Farewell to a Friend

It's 11:30pm, and I'm at the tail end of one of the happiest days of my life.  Marc's service was held today.  Normally one wouldn't call a memorial for your best friend a 'happy" day, but hear me out.  It was so amazing how the day went, from start to finish.  Everything went right.  There was a threat of rain, but it failed to appear, and we ate outside.  One of the videos had no audio on the first test run, but was easily rectified by, uh, plugging in the audio RCA cables.  The catering guys did a spectacular job, although how dare they have an overabundance of cookies after I returned to low-carbing.  There was a smashing turnout, at both the church and the bowling celebration.

We performed a loving tribute to a man many of us adored.  The organizers were all friends and family, and you would never know it wasn't handled by professionals.  Everybody who had a part to play, played it perfectly.  There were a multitude of tasks to accomplish this past week to get us ready, and everyone completed them as requested.

All that is great, but what really made me beam was the fact that all of Marc's loved ones were present, and the energy created by that was infused in me.  I had only joyous memories of Marc with me today, and nothing of the past 6 weeks.  If you had to say goodbye to your best friend, wouldn't you want that day to be perfect?  Well ours was.

Below I'm posting my contribution to the "reflections" portion of the service.  Each and every one of us did an outstanding job, and I am honored and overjoyed to be among them.

If Marc were here, I'm sure he would say today we're celebrating Marco de Mayo.

When I first learned of the existence of Marc Brubaker, it was due to the fact that we both applied for the same job.  Even though we were both avid scratch bowlers from the same area, we had never crossed paths on the lanes.  We both desired to work at the area's top bowling pro shop, and Marc was hired due to the fact he could work the schedule that was needed.  As luck would have it, another position at the shop became available, and I was hired too.

It wasn't long until we started getting along famously at work.  We didn't bowl together at first, due to the fact that I had joined the adult ranks a few years earlier, and he stayed a junior bowler longer.  Often he would come in on Monday mornings and tell me what tremendous scores he had shot during his weekend tournament, and I knew I had to go see him in action, because what he told me seemed almost unreal.

One weekend, he was participating in a tournament at the lanes where I had spent most of my youth - Clayton Valley Bowl in Concord.  It was just a few miles from my home, and I decided to go watch him and see him tear it up.  I arrived after about 2 games had passed, and Marc was bowling poorly.  He wasn't shooting incredible numbers like I thought I'd see.  He languished in the middle of the pack for the better part of the 1st four games.  Marc was a bit disappointed in his performance, but was still giving it his all.  I started to look at some of the scores the other bowlers were shooting, and calculated that Marc still had a chance to advance to the next round, but only if his last 2 games were fairly high.

 It was at this point when I was about to learn that Marc had a huge reservoir of determination.  I gave him a little encouragement, let him know that he could pull this off, and he certainly did.  Those last 2 games of qualifying were of the caliber I'd heard about on those Monday mornings.  At the end of the day, he'd made his way up the ladder and claimed another championship trophy.  It was almost like he wasn't trying hard until I started rooting for him, and he was rewarding me for doing so.

It wasn't long until we started bowling together more often.  Once we partnered up for a junior/adult tournament in Stockton.  It wasn't Marc's best day, but it was one of mine.  And for the record, my best days weren't nearly as phenomenal as Marc's best days.  We didn't win that tournament, but we did finish near the top.  Even though we weren't champions that day, I consider it one of my fondest  bowling moments.  Looking back on it, I think that's because I found myself useful to him. I got to hold him up when he wasn't at his best.  Before the tournament began, I'd assumed he would be holding me up, and I was uncharacteriscally nervous, because I didn't want to let him down.  We definitely formed a bond that day, one that has lasted for over 25 years.  And because of that bond, I cherish that 5th place finish more than I do any championships I may have earned.

Now I could go on for hours recalling Marc's numerous bowling accomplishments, or the fun we had bowling scores of tournaments over the years, but I'd rather talk about simpler things, like his chewing gum.  Marc was rarely without gum on his person, or in his vehicle.  If we ever climbed into his SUV to head off somewhere, he'd invariably pull out a pack and offer me a stick.  That doesn't sound odd or exciting, I know, but the funny thing is, I almost never accepted it.  But every time he would be courteous and offer me the 1st piece, and I would decline.   I think most people, after being rejected repeatedly - say 10 times in a row - would probably stop offering it.  He didn't stop though, it was just his kind and hospitable nature showing.  And that didn't just apply to gum, he was like that in almost all facets of his life, at least that's how I saw him.

Marc and I were opposites in many ways.  He was a terribly picky eater, while I eat anything put in front of me.  Our tastes in music and movies rarely crossed paths.  We had few arguments, and the thing I found most special, is that none of them ever ended with any lasting hurt feelings.  Once in a while we would go toe-to-toe over a topical social issue, but more than likely our most heated discussions would revolve around how important a particular piece of stereo equipment is.

I know Marc liked being involved in group activities, such as parties, camping trips, poker tournaments, and the like.  For most of his adult life, he's been self-employed, so he didn't get the same type of daytime social interaction that most working people do.  He didn't really have coworkers, mainly clients.  I tend to be more of an introvert, and I really cherished the fact that Marc always kept things small when I came out to visit.  I appreciated that he was conscientious of the fact I don't do well with large groups of people, and never pressed me into a situation I wished to avoid.

With so many admirable qualities, it was hard not to like him.  He balanced being easy going, yet disciplined, and exhibited a drive to succeed more than anyone I know.  I've always considered him a motivator - someone who came up with the plan, and wanted you involved with him to enact it.  He most definitely was a leader, and was exemplary in his work ethic, as well as quality of work. 

My entire adult life, I've considered Marc my best friend.  He was the best man at the weddings of at least 2 men who are present today, and I find it truly saddening that he will not be available for me, should that day arrive.

Even though the last 6 weeks are some of the worst that many of us have ever been through, I'm filled with a muted happiness about all the great memories I have of him, and appreciative for all the support shown by his friends and loved ones. Today is a day of celebration in Marc's honor.  And it most definitely was an honor to be his friend.

Here's a link to a short video that was shown at the end of the service.

In Our Hearts Forever

Where the Road Narrows

My best friend Marc died last Wednesday.  I wrote and submitted his obituary to the LA Times today.  I'm still trying to process how this all came to pass in 2013.  This happened about 25-30 years before it was supposed to.

I'm 45 years old and I can now say I've seen a person die, in person, up close, as it happened.  I just wish that it wasn't my favorite person in the entire world.  And I hope I never have to do that again.

He was surrounded by about a dozen others at the same time, as well.  Friends, family, a woman he recently started dating.  Some wept, some sobbed loudly, some stared silently, some looked away.  I kept my eyes fixed on his face, hoping to see any glimmer of life, something that could indicate he would snap out of it, like a child faking sleep.  If only he could have pulled off an elaborate stunt like that, to piss us off so greatly, but yet also give us relief that he was still with us.

Marc died from complications brought on by his weakened state while fighting leukemia.  The chemo was working; it was producing non-leukemia blood, but also compromising his immune system.  He developed a respiratory infection first, and later more that spread to his vital organs.  His oncologist said that he'd had just about every complication possible.  Without the major complications, beating this form of leukemia has a very high success rate, on paper.  Not this time though.

Marc was a fighter, one of those guys that doesn't give up when he fails.  If anyone could weather something like he went through, surely it would be him, right?  It was a forgone conclusion in my mind that very soon, there would be clear skies, and I would be coming out to visit him in his new house, and reintroduce him back into the world outside a hospital.  I probably would have had to fight for his time though.  He has many friends that would also have the same idea.

This writing is not flowing the way I hope it would.  I have a hundred mini-topics in my head related to Marc, and they're all fighting to get out and into this post.  I'm not going to fight it, I'm just going to go with the flow and whatever sticks, sticks.

Back to the obituary.  In trying to figure out how to place one, I've learned that obits have morphed into a money-making venture by the newspapers, whereas in the past they were treated almost like public service.  The 26-line (extremely truncated compared the original copy) was quite a bit more than I expected it to cost.  I have no doubt that if Marc new the cost ahead of time, would not have wanted us to submit one.  This Friday's Times should be running this:

(There are no red lines in the final print product; those are just from the rudimentary tools at my disposal)

The best thing about submitting the obituary is that the LA Times' website is automated and I was more focused on how easy the wizard flowed; it took my mind off the task at hand.  I am grateful that I didn't have to talk to a live person about this, as I most surely would have broken down.  And submitting by mail or through another method that doesn't give me an instant approval of the content would have been murder to wait for.  So thanks for that, Times.

I have to go now, but will write more about Marc soon.

That One Time My Best Friend Got Cancer

Well damn, first the bad news: Marc had to back out of going to our annual bowling tournament in Reno (on really short notice, I might add). Reason? Oh, just a minor case of leukemia. Inconsiderate, I know.

Marc Brubaker is my absolute all-time best friend (by a wide margin) and we've known each other for over 25 years. He's like a brother to me (except that I like him). He was diagnosed with Acute Promyelocytic (M3) Leukemia last Tuesday. Unfortunately, the night before, he suffered a hemmorhagic stroke that caused some bleeding in the brain, and has affected the left side of his body in an unfortunate manner. He can't move his left leg, his left arm is very weak, and worst of all, the vision in his left eye is impaired. It's like a third of his field of vision is missing, but his brain doesn't know it. It's a tremendously helpless feeling for both parties when he's looking right at you, but can't see you.

Marc is a home appraiser, and one thing he needs to do is drive to the homes to measure, take photos, etc. It's not yet known how his livelihood will be impacted. Hopefully there are some parallel types of positions that can utilize his expertise in lieu of mobility. Obviously the thoughts of the outcome of his recovery leaves a lot of questions and uncertainty. While visibly saddened at times, he's been very brave too, and is trying to stay positive. He's surrounded by good people; friends, family, and hospital staff.

I used to tease Marc about being a renter.  He's lived in California for over 10 years, the same length of time he's been an appraiser.  He does research on dozens of homes a day.  Why is he still renting?  Surely in all this time he could have found a home he would want and afford, right?  I'd tease him about being afraid to pull the trigger.  Of course, as things like this tend to go, he closed on a house just 2 weeks before his stroke.  He was actually moving into the house when he passed out and was rushed to the hospital (thanks to alert movers!).  The initial diagnosis was anemia.

After a few blood tests, the diagnosis changed to leukemia - pending a few final tests.  Well, that compounded when the stroke occurred (originally the doctors said aneurysm.  okay, raise your hand if you have a 3rd opinion, please).  Of all the side effects of leukemia, that's the worst one to get, outside of death.  He's been in ICU for a week, and tomorrow will be moved into the cancer ward.

I was in Reno when I heard the news about the stroke.  I was bowling team event and looked at my phone in between games, and there was a text from his brother.  I almost started crying, but held it together.  I wanted to blurt out to our teammates what was going on, but it wasn't the right time, and I didn't have all the info yet.  I think he inspired me because I ended up bowling much better than I normally do.  But really all I wanted to do was leave and get on a plane to Burbank.

He was in good care, and I was told they'd let me know if there were any turns for the worse.  Thankfully there were none.  I returned home Thursday, then drove out Friday around noon.  I headed straight to the hospital and have never been so simultaneously glad and upset to be in one.  One one hand, I was glad he was alive, breathing (through a tube, ICK!), and able to take me as a visitor.  On the down side, I was beside myself that such an athletic, fit person such as Marc could be afflicted by something like this.  HEY GOD, HE'S MY FRIEND AND DOESN'T DESERVE THIS!

Throughout the weekend, Marc saw many visitors.  Unfortunately, that's not the best for him because his brain is trying too much to be "normal" when what he really needed was rest and quiet.  I felt guilty because I saw him late Friday, and then twice on Saturday.  Sunday I held off until 5:45 pm or so, and was so glad to spend over an hour with him alone.  I couldn't help but feel good though, because he had made marked improvements since my Friday visit.  I knew he was healing, and that is what's important.  We talked about sports, women, Rocco (his dog), his house; the normal stuff we would if none of this had happened.  He even wanted to turn on the TV to watch a bit of the opening night of baseball season.  He hadn't wanted the TV on at all before that, his family said.

Marc and I are opposites in many ways. Physically for sure; he's always been on the skinny side.
Only in the last few years has he been able to gain weight, and with me losing, joked that we would pass each other soon.  He always asked about my diet, and if low carbing would help him gain.  It could, but he's such a picky eater, he would probably not come close to eating enough each day.

Our career paths have always been different.  He's probably the most motivated person I've ever known. He's owned a few businesses, and even though they didn't all pan out, he gave them good runs and he learned a lot about what's needed to succeed, and about himself.  Me, I don't switch employers often, and prefer the comfort of a big company, with limited chance for great wealth, but ample security.  For God's sake, he didn't even like LOTR and only watched half of the first movie.

I guess what I'm saying above is that I love this man probably more than I love myself, and would be crushed if he was gone from the world.  Driving across the border into the Golden State always meant a visit was imminent.  I sure hope that continues.

Now the good news:  I am confident he will beat this, and all will return to almost-normal, and eventually almost-normal becomes normal and we go on living our lives like nothing happened.  We have plenty of good times to come.

So how did you spend your Spring Break?

Resolution or Revolution?

(The daily blog will now be guaranteed to be updated at least monthly, or at worst, bi-monthly, unless things get in the way)

So tonight I was logging a bunch of recent purchases from TFAW.  I am finally getting around to unboxing stuff I got during their Black Friday sale (it was only 6 weeks ago, give me a break!), and I come across a few things out of the ordinary.

I was shorted like 5 books.  Just cheapo nick & dent TPBs, but about $15 worth if you consider s/h.  I wonder what response I'll get about getting a credit, 30 days after receivng the order.  The other 80% of my order showed up fine.

More curious to me however, was a Conan TPB/floppy military special I received.  I had no idea they made special package deals like this.  It reminds me of the 3 for $1 comics that would come polybagged at TG&Y when I was a kid.  Always a good idea to market comics via different avenues.

Then it occurred to me how violent Conan is, and if the book was in the hands of someone in a hotzone.  Would they want to be reading about the exploits of a guy who gets in a fight to the death every 3-4 pages?  Where beheadings are extremelty common?

Now maybe this wasn't offered directly to our brave troops overseas, perhaps it was available only at a local PX or some direct mail outlet, I don't know how that works.  My natural reaction about this is that our troops have to go through some of the worse shit imaginable to protect us; would they want to read violent stuff like this?  I love Conan and the gore never bothers me, but I am far removed from real-world atrocities some of these guys face every day, too.  I don't think I'd want to read something like that during times of duress.

Anyway, it's just a random thought that came to me.  And now it makes me want to hug a soldier, and send him some comics.  What do you think they'd like?

The one in which I go full nerd

I've been buying comics at LCS for about 35 years now.  It seems like in Las Vegas, comics shops are thriving, and that makes me happy.  When I was a kid and lived in Northern California, I think there was only one in the entire (densely populated) county.  

The only shop I could get to without driving 25 miles was run by an Italian man who never seemed to really like comics.  He only saw it as a business I believe.  He never talked about books, characters, artists, etc.  There was never anybody in his stores most times, and I wondered how he stayed in business.  He even had 2 locations at one time.  To my 8-years-young eyes, it just seemed like he had the greatest job in the world, and it brought him no joy.

Later on when I could travel, I found shops in Berkeley, Oakland, SF and the peninsula.  Most of them were either combo bookstore/comic shop, or college-type with a more mature slant.  I only found two they I really enjoyed: a touristy-shop at Pier 39, which seemed to have an awesome back issue selection, and high prices; and a hole in the wall in Burlingame that was run by a guy who always seemed to be on the brink of financial ruin.  

When I graduated unto adulthood (about 20 minutes ago), I found Flying Colors in Concord, CA. It is run by a true legend in the LCS world: Joe Field.  Even though his shop was on the small side, it packed something for everyone.  It didn't cater just to college kids, juveniles, or children; it had something for all.  And you know what?  The store was always busy.  I think he was the first LCS owner I ever met who knew that you should treat every customer like a friend, always be helpful, and sell comics at a fair price.

Now in Vegas I see a many stores following the same path, and with much success.  The 3-store Maximum Comics chain is truly amazing.  The owner Jay does some crazy things in the name of promotion, and does it tirelessly.  (Seriously, I think he's a robot or something; how does he do it?)  Last week he made a Facebook post telling the world that all "long wall" comics were $1 that day.  That means all recent issues that would normally still sell at cover price, except comics released this week.  ONE DOLLAR EACH!   Between the 2 stores I bought about 90 issues. I filled in gaps.  I bought whole runs.  I picked up a lot of new things I'd never heard of.  It was crazy.  Indeed, Freaky Friday as he called it.

Jay's shops do a lot of everything.  Big gaming, big comics, big toys.  One of his stores has a life-sized Silver Surfer (with board) right on top of the back issue bins.  It's majestic.  One of his stores currently has the full run of Walking Dead for sale (or did as of last week).  His staff is extremely knowledgeable and friendly.  This guy is building a comics empire, in one of the most economically depressed cities in the U.S., and he's making it look easy.

Anyway, I want to say thanks to all comics shop operators out there.  Now I may not buy all my comics from you, but don't worry about that; you'll still get plenty of my money.

p.s. and thanx for not mentioning that it's been 17 years since the last update ;)

Is it September Already?

So tomorrow, an event will take place that only happens once every 15 years or so.  You probably read about it in the local newspaper, as it has a pretty big impact on the community, both financially and spiritually.

I'm canceling my TV service.

I've done this once before, when I lived in a small condo in Walnut Creek.  I had one of those illegal converter boxes that the cable company had figured out how to disable.  I couldn't live with just the "basic" channels, and couldn't afford the premiums.  I think I ended up giving it to a coworker as it seemed to work with his cable system still.

I guesstimate I went without TV for about 9-12 months that time.  For the life of me I can't remember what I did during that extended blackout.  I know I read a bit more back then than I do now.  I probably did a bit more bowling.  And eating out.

This time, I'm not sure how long I can go.  Yesterday was the 1st full day of NFL games, and for a good 7 hours I was stuck to the couch.  And for almost 2 months there will be overlap with MLB, which has my beloved Giants going deep into the playoffs.  So why am I doing this?

Prevention.  I'm getting to know myself pretty well these days, and I already know my weaknesses. Sitting in front of a TV all weekend is not conducive to living the lifestyle I want to lead.  It will tempt me back into sloth mode, something I was trapped in for so long.

I'll probably still watch a fair amount of games - mostly 49ers - at a local bar or sports book.  It's too hard to go cold turkey like that.  I can listen to games on the radio too, when the mood hits. But I am eliminating the boob tube from the equation so I can focus more on my current hobbies: exercise, books, golf, and hopefully cooking.  I need to learn my way around a kitchen.  I've been resting on my culinary laurels since my 7th grade Home Ec class.  These days, if I can cook 3 eggs in a row without breaking a yolk, I treat myself to an omelet as a reward (get it?).

Another area of improvement I need to address is my house.  It's in need of tens, if not dozens, of fixes/upgrades.  I've been lucky that nothing major has broken lately (bless the A/C gods!).  Most of the things on my list I'll be able to handle myself, I just need to eliminate distractions from my life.  I really need to be ready for when the RE market booms again and I can sell this baby. (HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA did you get THAT?)

Diet update:  July didn't go so hot for me; I had a couple of cheat days that really stalled me.  But August was pretty decent, lost about 10 lbs or so, which put me at 99lbs down in exactly 10 months. I even spent a week in Maui and came back 3 lbs lighter.  Take that, King Kamehameha!
That leaves me with 21 more to go in 60 days to hit my next goal.  As long as I get close, I'll be happy.

The 2nd Most Interesting Man in the World
Volcanoes think HE's hot!

I still don't have any low carb converts yet though, which is a bit perplexing to me.  I've sent about a half dozen folks to reddit.com/r/keto, but I don't think anyone as of yet has taken the plunge. Yeah, I know, low carb is not the only way to lose, but for me it's been a godsend.  Without a doubt the easiest path for me.  I now weigh what I was in 7th grade.  A year ago there is no way in purgatory I thought that would be possible.  If you think you can't, you're wrong.  Well I mean if you think you can't, you're right.  You know what I mean.

Well today was a bit of a letdown (subtitled: I started Shark Week)

Nothing serious, I think.   I have just been in a pissy mood all day.  I've been a dick pretty much since noon or so.  Little things that rarely bother me more than a few seconds have been lingering in my noggin, feeding off each other like a bunch of drunk rowdy fans at a soccer match.  It's just a matter of time until someone gets bold and does something ill-advised.

Well, those of you who know me know I won't do anything too brash; I'm still very easy-going and rational at my core.  I behaved very poorly tonight at bowling, something that irks me greatly, looking back at it.  Now I didn't throw chairs or anything, just let my bad mood ruin what is normally a fun experience.

I think one thing that ticked me off was seeing my doctor this morning.  It seems my blood pressure is now a little elevated, into the mild stage 1 range.  I know I'm not the healthiest individual on my block, and I should expect something like this.  However what ticked me off is that I thought I was making great strides in trying to improve my health, through diet & exercise.  In less than 10 months, I've lost 94lbs and my blood work panels have all improved significantly.  And my 3 trips to the doctor since December '11 have shown my BP to be in the high-but-normal range.  So the question that nags me is: With all my improvements, why is my BP spiking?

My doctor is a typical HPN slug; barely acknowledges me with any sort of connection, rarely recites info correctly from my chart, and keeps his eyes glued to his laptop for 80% of our visit.  I only really need him to order my blood work from the lab - or so I thought up until now.  Now I guess I'm stuck with him for at least one more checkup to see how the Lisinopril plays out.

I think what's been responsible for today's foulness is the fact that my godsend low-carb diet did not shield me from the BP inflation.  Aside from helping me lose fat I never thought I could, it's cured about a dozen other things in my body to bring me into "normal" range.  I won't go into details (message me if you are interested), but one of the weirdest things is it made me stop producing dark brown ear wax.  Yes, you heard that correctly (and now I can too).  Fucking amazing, eh?

Anyway, back to me.  Oh, we never left me.  Whatever.  So what can I do to shake things up, something that'll really make me feel good?  Like any 13-year old girl, I purged my FB friends list.  I whacked away about 70 total, bringing me down under 100 again.  If you're reading this and we're still friends on FB, it's probably because 1 or more of the following (check all that apply):  I admire you or find you interesting, you admire me or find me interesting, I've hung out with you often, I want to see when you next perform, you're a co-worker who actually seems to want to be friends, I fear you and the ramifications of dropping you, you can do something for me, I dated you, I want to date you, you know someone I want to date,  you bought something from me in the past, and lastly, you can tell me if most or all of the commas in this sentence should have been semicolons.

Now if any of you are worried about my well-being, don't be too alarmed.  I usually am so laid back and worry-free that just sometimes (like today), little bumps in the road give me reason to pause and reflect.  I'm not suicidal; more likely just mulling over whether I should drop DirecTV when my 2 years is up next month.  (I hesitated to use the word suicidal, it just triggers alarm to even mention it.  Like Gred Focker saying "I don't have a bomb" and all anyone hears is "bomb.")  Really, nothing to see here, just a few paragraphs to reset myself and give me a framework on looking at tomorrow.