GOOD NEWS: SALT IN YOUR DIET IS NOT GOING TO KILL YOU!

Once you're diagnosed with high blood pressure like me, you practically have to keep the salt shaker hidden under your mattress. You'd actually think the Morton's Salt girl was carrying a coffin instead of an umbrella!

But now a new Canadian study might just be the final end for the Great Salt Myth. Researchers have proven that if you have high blood pressure, cutting back on salt isn't just dangerous, it might in fact even kill you.

It doesn't seem to matter how many studies come out on the health benefits of salt -- or that our bodies can't survive without it. The mainstream -- and our government -- aren't about to admit they've been giving terrible advice to people with high blood pressure for decades.

Just ask Dr. Andrew Mente, a top researcher from McMaster University. Mente has been under constant attack since he released his new study proving that a low-salt diet can be a death sentence for people with hypertension. Of course, if the people who are attacking Mente would bother to read his study, they'd see he's right on the money.

I find it interesting that Mente actually pooled together the results of four different studies involving 133,000 people from 49 different countries. And he found that cutting back on salt is a lot more dangerous for you than eating too much of it.

In fact, people with high blood pressure who consumed less than 3,000 mg. of salt a day were a whopping 34 percent more likely to have a heart attack or stroke.

Even if you don't have high blood pressure, a low-salt diet can increase your heart attack or stroke risk by a frightening 26 percent. You'd think that would be enough to get the mainstream thinking twice about its war on salt. But it doesn't look like that's going to happen any time soon.

The minute the ink dried on Mente's study, a former president of the American Heart Association claimed he wasn't buying it -- and that it "should not be used to guide public policy." Are you kidding? If a study with 133,000 people won't convince the AHA, it looks like nothing will.

The AHA has spent years recommending a dangerous 1,500 mg. salt limit for high blood pressure -- and it's not about to admit it's been putting all of us in harm's way. These guys probably still believe that the Earth is flat and the moon is made of green cheese (and low-salt cheese at that)!

But the fact is, Mente's study wasn't the first to prove that the science behind low-salt diets is paper thin. A study out of Germany 12 years ago also found that ditching salt is unhealthy for seniors. Most North Americans consume about 3,400 mg. of salt a day -- and that's right where we should be, according to this latest research.

If you have high blood pressure and have been purposely depriving yourself of salt, print this article and show it to your doctor. See what he/she has to say about salt used with moderation in your diet.

Your taste buds may be glad that you did!

...And I'm glad to know that it is not going to kill me. I've never been a heavy salt user anyway but I always like it on my French fries.

TRUST THE UNIVERSE: THANKS GOOD FRIEND...I NEEDED THAT!

I take the liberty of publishing an email I received from a friend today.  I am sure she would not mind. There just might be one or two other friends who will appreciate it as much as I did.

Dear Richard,

Shit happens. It just does.

We have good days, bad days, and mediocre days. One day we feel great...top of the world.  The next day we feel like crap, get in a car accident, or worse.

Life is great. Life sucks.  This is just how it is......one step forward, two steps back.

So...here's the BIG question: Why do so many of us live as if feeling bad is so WRONG?

I think there are two answers to this question:

#1 is that we were raised on the old Alka Seltzer jingle "plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is." We're programmed to believe that there is a pill to pop to alleviate every pain or discomfort. (Even though we all know that physical pain is a necessary signal that something is calling for our attention.)

#2 we don't believe that the Universe always has our back. Quite simply, we don't trust God. We assume that whatever is happening...whether it's loss of a job, heartbreak, illness, betrayal, unexpected money issues, or roadblocks to our heart's desires... we take it as a sign that we are doomed and more bad is on the way.

While just like everyone else I would rather avoid pain, in six decades on this planet, I've discovered that my greatest, most extraordinary "wins" in life have all come as a result of my most painful and difficult experiences. Over time I've learned to cultivate trust in the Universe.

As I began to witness in my own life that from the darkest times came the brightest results. I found the ability to trust both God and myself. I consciously sought out proof that the bad times were the soil in which my dreams came to fruition. (And yes, I admit, that I often wished for a genie in a bottle to make it all easier for me.)

If you are having a great day today, take a few moments to close your eyes, drop into your heart and really feel how grateful you are. Deeply breathe in this gratitude and savor it.

And, if today is a bad day, close your eyes, drop into your heart, and take a few moments to feel what you are truly feeling....and then see if you can conjure up true gratitude for the possibility of the most wonderful thing that will soon come to you as a result of this difficulty.

Wishing you love, laughter and magical kisses,

RUNS TO MARK "TOM LONGBOAT DAY" IN CANADA, JUNE 4

It is not likely that many of my readers will know that Saturday, June 4, is "Tom Longboat Day" in Canada.  Who was Tom Longboat, you might well ask?

Tom Longboad and his trophies

Longboat was a world-champion, long-distance runner who, in 1907, won the Boston Marathon in a record time of 2:24:24 and went on to win many other races and claimed the title of Professional Champion of the World in 1909. He was the first person of First Nation descent and only one of two to ever win the Boston Marathon.

His feats were on a par with those of the legendary American Indian Olympic champion Jim Thorpe.

Born on Six Nations Reserve, east of Brantford, in 1887 with his First Nation's name Kakwe.ik (Everything) and a Residential School survivor, Tom Longboat would go on to become a Canadian Army dispatch runner in France during World War I.

He was inducted into both Canada's Sports Hall of Fame in 1955 the Ontario Sports Hall of Fame in 1966 and the Indian Hall of Fame.  Each year, the Toronto Island 10K race commemorates his memory and First Nations' athletes from each province, both male and female are selected for the Longboat Award.

By no coincidence, the 28th Annual Huron Shores Run is also scheduled for June 4 this year and to commemorate "Tom Longboat Day", the event will begin with the dancers and drummers from nearby Saugeen First Nation in prayer at the Coliseum in Southampton.  They will then lead the runners and walkers down High Street to the starting line, both at 7:30 and and 8:30 a.m.  (I'm going to try to get up early enough that morning to take some photos, but I won't be wearing running shoes -- been there and done that!)

The run is for every age and ability -- Kids' Fun Run, 3k, 5k, 10k Runs, Half Marathon Walk and Run. For those who can't run, no problem...They can get their 10,000 steps in by entering the 5k Walk and collecting pledges or by sponsoring someone they know.

Again, this year, the Rotary Run is partnering with the Town of Saugeen Shores that will hold a Health and Wellness Fair at the Coliseum where the awards ceremony and a lunch for participants will also take place following the Run. Commendably, proceeds from the event are shared by the local Saugeen Memorial Hospital Foundation, Rotary projects in the community and the Saugeen Track & Field Club.

NOTE:  In 1998, as one century was about to end and another begin, Maclean's magazine ran a list of the 100 most important Canadians in history, dividing them into 10 categories, with 10 names in each category. In the Stars category, reserved for the best in celebrity the country has had to offer, the number one spot went to Tom Longboat. And in the list of the top 10 Canadians in history overall, Longboat came in ninth spot, sharing the list with the likes of William Lyon Mackenzie King, Glenn Gould, Nellie McClung and K.C. Irving.  Tom is recognized in numerous books, articles, and web pages. As well, various races, scholarships, clubs and a school have been named in his honor -- even a Canadian commemorative postage stamp.

Cardboard Retreat - Jim Armstrong

Jim Armstrong's Cardboard Retreat is a powerfully poignant anthem about the plight of homeless Armed Services Veterans. An alarming number of service people are returning to their homeland with no real place to call home. Collaborating with America's non-profit, http://www.VoicesUnitedForVeterans.org and their sister organization in Canada http://www.Mats4Pats.ca, Jim and other like-minded artists performed their music to raise awareness and dollars to support the day-to-day work of helping returning heroes reclaim their dignity.....SEE JIM'S STORY IN THE POST BELOW and keep this video playing as you read it. 

JIM ARMSTRONG: WAS A RESPECTED MUSICIAN, SONGWRITER, DEFENDER OF THE UNDERDOG AND ALL-'ROUND GOOD GUY FROM SOUTHAMPTON

On Monday (May 2nd.) at 1:31 p.m. hikers walking along the Lake Huron shoreline at MacGregor Point Provincial Park, came across a body floating just off shore.  The body was transported to London where an autopsy was performed and later identified as that of missing person Peter James Armstrong. No foul play was suspected and the cause of death will not be determined until the results of toxicology are completed and reviewed by the coroner's office.

Armstrong was last seen at 9 00 p.m., March 9, at a relative's home along the Saugeen River in Southampton. An extensive search was conducted by the OPP Emergency Response Team, the Saugeen Shores Police Service and the Saugeen Shores Fire Service over the weeks that followed.

You may, or may not, have picked up on such sparse information from a press release circulated in recent days.  Fifty-three-year-old "Jim" Armstrong was a quiet, unassuming guy who flew under the radar most of his life but trust me there was much, much more to him than that.  To his friends and associates in the music world in and around Toronto he was well-thought-of and deeply respected.  Only in Canada, you say!

The body those hikers found along the shoreline earlier this week belonged to a songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer with decades of performing and recording to his credit.

Jim Armstrong, in concert

Jim's Armstrong's story deserves to be told.  His work was recently compared to the master singer-songwriters of Americana roots-rock — Bruce Springsteen, Steve Earle, Tom Petty and Canada’s own Fred Eaglesmith — in that their music shares a working-class sensibility and honesty.

He was a self-taught multi-instrumentalist with drums being his first instrument. His mother Marie's short-lived attempt at sending him off to a piano teacher as a young boy did not last too long. The teacher soon twigged to the fact that he was just playing back the songs he picked up by ear and not bothering to learn to read the actual sheet music. He was always creating music and was a touring drummer from the age of 10. He was a lifeguard; he played sports and earned two college degrees.

Jim never let epilepsy and encephalitis stop him from accomplishing things even when he was first diagnosed with his condition and spent many weeks and months in and out of hospitals as a youngster growing up in Southampton. However, by his late 20s, his seizure activity began to increase and the medications were not working as well anymore. He sometimes considered it a blessing in disguise that he was forced to stay home and concentrate solely on music. In his early 20s he was also playing guitar, bass, keys, harmonica, sax, and writing and recording solo pursuits. 

Jim underwent surgery in 1992 to minimize the effects his seizures.  It was an unnerving prospect because the risks were great -- death obviously, but also paralysis and a possible loss of musical abilities, brain damage, you name it. Faced with these risks Jim began writing a lot of new material as the surgery date approached. He felt he needed to stockpile as many songs as he could in case he could never create music again.

Fortunately, the surgery was fairly successful. He still needed medication and he continued to have some seizures "but I can cope," he said at the time. It wasn’t the easiest recovery though; he was temporarily paralyzed and had to force his body to pick up the guitar and drum sticks again. Three months after surgery he recovered sufficiently to begin recording and producing his first Sonic Deli Records release, a compilation CD entitled "Brown Bag Lunch" and forming his own band.

Four of the songs on Jim's "Mudtown" album were first included on Brown Bag Lunch; "Angel In Our Corner", "Hole In His Heart", "Tomorrow's Gonna Be Grand" and "Oxygen Kiss". They were from the pre-surgery time when he was madly stockpiling material. "Imagine my surprise though, when people kept telling me that they loved these songs and why wasn’t I out there performing them? Well, my performing days had always been spent behind a drum kit, not singing and playing a guitar or as a front man," he wrote on his web site a few years ago.

"Mostly, I’m just happy to still be alive; able to do the music I love to do and hope that people will get to hear that music, like my songs and even come out to hear my band perform them on occasion," he added.

In the early 1990's, Jim was fortunate enough to meet songwriting and business manager, Andrea Poulis, and began to collaborate with other artists.   Today Andrea is Director of Music and Canadian Programming, Radio 11.3X in Toronto and President, Artist Management, Sonic Deli Records. Together, Andrea and Jim worked with various singers and musicians in many different genres, developing their craft. It was also during the early nineties that they hooked up with bass player, Wes Miller. who had played just about everywhere in North America over the years and became an integral part of the writing process, co-engineering and co-producing Mudtown in conjunction with Sonic Deli Records.

Almost unbelievably, with the exception of the bass guitar and some of the lead guitar tracks, Jim played all the instruments on the Mudtown album.  The official bio for the album declared:

"Mudtown is a straight ahead alt-roots-rock album that shoots from the hip and aims at the heart. With his first solo CD, Mudtown, Toronto-based musician Jim Armstrong has crafted a collection of 13 songs with musical and emotional hooks that stick unshakably with the listener. He has also scored films such as Canton Film Studios' The Adulterer's Guide to Toronto (2007). Now, he’s stepping authoritatively in front of the curtain to unveil "Mudtown", his solo debut.  The title and driving spirit of Mudtown were born during Armstrong's wanderings through downtown Toronto, where he lives, works and walks his dogs. Armstrong explains, "Life can be dirty, rough and mean, but there's a breed of people who struggle against the grind and somehow keep their humanity. They don't get hard, like the city, and that's what makes Mudtown livable."

"They made me sound like a pro," the laid-back and almost embarrassed Jim was known to say about the glowing words on the album cover..

Jim Armstrong was a genuine hero and an inspiration to all who are faithful to their art. True enough, he defended the underdog through his music by dispelling the modern myth of perfection. He wrote songs about real characters from everyday life, singing their stories with the passion of the human justice activist that he was.  

Often labelled a "troubadour", Jim and his The Sonic Deli Band were annual regulars at the International Buskerfest run by the charity Epilepsy Toronto for which he was an official spokesman.

Not long ago, Jim had this to say about where he found himself in life: "If, four years ago, someone had told me that I would be back on a stage performing songs from my own album, I would never have dared to believe them. Oh, I knew that I wrote some great music and I loved creating new songs all the time, but I had reached the point where I was beginning to despair of living any sort of normal life – let alone be out singing my songs somewhere."  One has to wonder what was on his mind when he disappeared, lightly clad and supposedly without his medications, into the sub-zero dark of that Southampton night two months ago...Maybe it is better that we will never know.

He was reported to have been experiencing some mental health and emotional issues in recent months.

The 2 Kens (comedy team Ken Main & Ken Devoe) recorded a wonderful and revealing radio show tribute to Jim and his music today (Friday). Please scroll down and click on the mp3 link to have a listen...I leave it to those two good friends to have the last words on this post.  It is an extremely moving tribute.

"This week we lost our dear friend, Jimmy Armstrong, an extraordinary man who touched so many lives with his music and countless more with his great big heart. We put together a short tribute to our friend. You can immediately listen to the mp3 here. http://traffic.libsyn.com/…/2Kens_Remember_Peter_James_Jim_… Please share this freely with everyone who appreciates knowing that there are still good people out there who champion the underdog -- and never make a peep about it. Jim Armstrong certainly was that.

"While there seems no bottom to our sorrow, it is uplifting to learn from Andrea Poulis, Jim’s music partner, co-songwriter and BFF these past 25 years, of the massive outpouring of love, compassion, kindness and appreciation for Jim’s life, his loving way and, of course, his wonderful music. Jim believed in paying it forward. It goes on and will go on.

"We love you, Jimmy! Thank you for sharing your special gifts. Rest in peace, great friend. We’ll be okay, don’t you worry. We know because you promised, “Tomorrow’s Gonna Be Grand.”  -- Ken Main & Ken Devoe, 2Kens Comedy

Now you know the story that was not included in that earlier matter-of-fact "missing person found" news release.  Jim is no longer missing but he will be missed!

IS TRANSFERRING A BRAIN ONTO COMPUTER ANSWER TO IMMORTALITY?

Followers of Wrights Lane may think that I am a bit preoccupied with the brain-as-a-computer concept (or vice versa) but I find the subject a fascinating one worthy of consideration.

How long has the human race sought immortality? The fountain of youth is a famous legend for a reason, and we’ve all heard numerous stories involving potions of everlasting life. There is even an entire industry devoted to freezing your body in the hopes that future technology will be able to revive you. As humans, we’ve always sought to become immortal through the preservation of our physical forms. Aging, however, is a natural process – while we can certainly slow it down with modern medicine, we cannot stop it completely. But what if we’ve been looking at immortality from the wrong angle all along?

Cyber Immortality

Scientists are now suggesting that the answer to achieving immortality lies not in preserving our bodies, but in preserving our minds. If you think about it, the human brain is akin to a high-powered computer. So, what if we could copy all those files stored in our brain and simply transfer them to another computer? Many important thinkers agree that it may be possible.

“I think the brain is like a program in the mind, which is like a computer, so it’s theoretically possible to copy the brain onto a computer and so provide a form of life after death” – Stephen Hawking

This idea is reinforced by the fact that computer power has grown exponentially over the past few decades, and continues to do so. Google’s director of engineering, Ray Kurzweil, has suggested that we may be able to transfer the entire human brain to a computer within forty years.

The technology itself is also progressing quickly – scientists have already been able to replicate some functions of the brain. For example, a team led by neurology professor Henry Markram was able to successfully simulate part of a rat’s brain. Although replicating the entire human brain is still a long ways off, it’s likely to happen within some of our lifetimes. As with any revolutionary technology, it will undoubtedly come with a hefty price tag. However, think about the payoff. Can you really put a price on immortality?

Coding Consciousness

The biggest remaining question surrounding this issue involves consciousness. It’s one thing to replicate the computer-processing elements of the human brain, but what about the more complex aspects, such as feelings and emotions? Is it even possible to ‘code’ consciousness? On this important aspect, the experts disagree.

Some scientists are convinced that if given enough time and research, this technology will eventually succeed in simulating consciousness.  And in fact, this work is already underway. Leaders in the field of artificial intelligence are currently developing robots that can reason, think, and even learn by imitating the human brain. Recreating human emotions will be difficult, but the technology is progressing quickly.

However, other scientists remain highly doubtful about the possibility of ‘manufacturing’ consciousness. According to well-known neuroscientist Miguel Nicolelis, “there are a lot of people selling the idea that you can mimic the brain with a computer”. While this sounds good on paper, he says, “you could have all the computer chips in the world and you won’t create a consciousness.”  Until more progress is made, the jury may be out on this question.

Are We ‘Playing God’?

Either way, this is groundbreaking technology we’re talking about. Once it becomes affordable, we will be faced with an existential question: do we consider our mortal lives sufficient, or should our brains be allowed to live on in cyber form? There also exists a moral quandary here – some may argue that this technology is equivalent to ‘playing God’. 

Do we have the right to interfere with the universe’s plan for us? If it becomes an option, would you sign up to download your brain to a computer?  Personally, knowing me and my muddled mind as I do, I'd be afraid to!

Think I'll take my thoughts to the grave with me...That is, those that I have not already committed to Wrights Lane.

ON SEARCHING OUR MINDS LIKE GOOGLE

As we get older our memory comes apart. One memory sticks to another, but the glue is old and fragile and sometimes breaks. It's just gone. Something is there, but it's not together as it should be. It's a jumble.

Mike Sterling of Southampton has one of those kinds of brilliant minds that thinks electronically, almost like a computer. I have written before about the new mind-boggling musical instrument that he is inventing.

On the subject of memory, he has this to say: "As we think, as we recall, memories come out like incomplete strands that are pulled from a box of Kleenex. One should pull on the next. They should cascade out without a pause. We should not have to dig deeper in our memory."

We like to think that as we pack in new memories, we've just made room by getting rid of useless bits and pieces, but that's not true. Those bits are, after all, who we are. We need them.

Here's how it goes with Mike, at least ....He thinks of things from the past. These are not words, but images. Row upon row upon row of images.

Recently a vision of a former mayor of Detroit, who participated in the decline of the city, came into focus for him. "Why think of him? Who knows? He's hanging there like an incomplete strand. The glue must be dried up," he adds.

"I see him clearly. His face and his voice come back quickly. I think of his energetic predecessor. I see him too. But, what are their names? I should know them. I must know them!

"No need to panic, I'll remember and I do in a few minutes. Meanwhile I remember the Mayor's WWII record as a flyer. I remember the other mayor with his children going to church on Sunday. These all come from moving around inside my own server space. Without my private Google, I'm lost," Mike emphasizes.

"All of a sudden the name Coleman is pulled out from someplace and then Young. Yes, 'Coleman Young'. That's the guy. A man with much promise but no friend of goodness. He controlled and participated in the cities decline by controlling the church goers not the bad guys. Bad guys don't vote after all."

Eventually Mike was able to "pull out" the other name but expresses some annoyance that he did not do it faster.

I never thought of it this way before but that is more or less the unconscious process that I go through when I click on my mental recall for information tucked away in the recesses of my mind.

So how can old guys like Mike and I use our memory to better advantage and do it consistently? Ah, our mutual friend Google helps. Even without the real Google though, we can and should do a bit of digging ourselves. "Search like Google does" should be our routine rule of thumb.

Sometimes we don't need Google at all. The pesky past just needs a strong tug. A mind that thinks like Mike Sterling's helps too.

MB: Just an after-thought to the above...It's remembering what we did yesterday and what we have to do today that we really have to work on. Certainly for me anyway...And Google can't help with that.

THE REALITY OF DEALING WITH SADNESS BY TAKING CONTROL

I get the impression that I may have laid an egg with my latest review of the TV program "Heart of a Dog" which emphasized the need to effectively deal with sadness. Not to worry though...I am used to being taken with a grain of salt.

Writers and commentators measure reception of their work through feedback from readers. My audience (on average 150-200 readers per Wrights Lane and Facebook post) is relatively limited and I have chosen to keep it that way. I find it curious and slightly humorous, however, that I can garner several dozen likes and comments on posts about my granddaughter's artwork, self-confessed senior citizen moments, photos and videos of flowers, animals and kids, and sundry trivial subjects, but carefully crafted dissertations on some of my more serious topics appear to be totally ignored or dismissed as if not striking a chord or a nerve.

As a case in point, "Heart of a Dog" was by no means entertaining viewing but it demanded my attention because I could relate at many levels...My description of the production for the benefit of those who did not view it, may have been every bit as complicated as Laurie Anderson's unusual, yet creative, thought process in presenting 75-minutes of television antidotes, film flashbacks and voice-over commentary.

Two things about "Heart of a Dog" that struck me were: 1) It was about a blind dog like mine and 2) the suggestion that "we can be sad without really being sad".  I know something about dogs and possibly ever more about sadness and mood-swings, but I will not dwell on that personal frailty in this post.  I am motivated, however, to take a deeper look at sadness in general -- at the risk of losing more readers with this one -- simply because I feel the need.

Ever since he burst onto the world scene some 20-25 years ago, I have followed the work of Deepak Chopra, an Indian American author, public speaker, alternative medicine advocate, and a prominent figure in the New Age movement. Deepak says that we live in a society where a high value is placed on being positive. Yet sometimes this simply isn't possible, and people find themselves facing temporary or long-term sadness. "Just telling yourself to 'be positive' isn't much help, because moods can have a life of their own. One of the pitfalls of positivity is that people tend to fantasize about a perfect life instead of realistically facing the fact that no life is perfect," he adds.

Everyone's existence contains challenges, disappointments, frustration and failed expectations. Further, what usually happens is that most of us become passive. We distract ourselves by watching more television or spending more hours on the computer. We wait for sadness to pass and we behave as if nothing bad is going on. Keeping up a good front is important in most people's lives, yet behind the facade can lurk a good deal of fear. 

Deepak Chopra:"Well-being is a journey."

Instead of positivity, Deepak suggests that what's needed is reality. Being realistic means that you drop the main defense that all of us are tempted to employ: denial. The only reason to deny your sadness is if you feel that you can't do anything about it. But there are concrete ways to cope with sadness and gain control over it.  Here are three ways to attain the control as put forward by the brilliant New Age thinker.

Step 1: Identifying Your Kind of Sadness 

It's perfectly normal to have sadness in your life. Some kinds, however, can be a cause for concern. If you are feeling sad at this moment—or have been experiencing a down mood for a while—look honestly at your situation. There are three types of sadness most of us fall into: Short-term sadness: This is a passing mood, lasting a few days or, at most, a week. It sometimes has a cause and sometimes not. The best remedy—as we all know but, sadly, often fail to remember—is to lower your stress, go to bed early and get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, make sure you exercise and break up your normal routine a bit. Boredom, lack of sleep, being too sedentary and excess stress are all associated with a sad mood.

Triggered sadness: This includes a downturn in mood because something undeniably bad has happened to you, such as losing your job or the death of someone close to you. In such a situation, you will generally know what the trigger is. The problem is that most people feel helpless when they enter extended sadness, even when they know there is a good reason for it. In this case, you need to process your sadness, let nature take its course and share your feelings with someone who can counsel and console you. Bottling up your feelings and feeling victimized are never helpful. Triggered sadness lasts an unpredictable length of time, yet in an emotionally healthy adult, within six months there is a return to the level of emotions that existed before the trigger was set off.

Depression: If you feel sad, exhausted, helpless, hopeless and unable to sleep, eat or enjoy sex for a period of time lasting more than a few weeks, you should suspect that you are depressed. There is often a trigger for this condition, but it is usually something that you could normally cope with. When coping breaks down, depression takes over. So if you feel that you can't cope, even with minor stress and ordinary setbacks, mild to moderate depression may be indicated. This is a complicated mood disorder that varies from person to person. If you suspect that you or someone close to you is depressed, a doctor's care is needed.

Step 2: Banishing the Enemies of Happiness

Let's say that you fall into the first two categories of short-term and triggered sadness (we won't discuss depression here; that must be handled by a health professional). If so, there are things you can do to change the situation.

It surprises people, but, in fact, the best cure for sadness is happiness. Anything that diminishes your ability to build your own happiness must be avoided or eliminated. For example, don't hitch your happiness to external rewards or postpone being happy until sometime in the future. Don't expect someone else to make you happy. Don't allow your emotions to become habitual and stuck or close yourself off from new experiences. Don't ignore the signals of inner tension and conflict, dwell on the past or live in fear of the future. Most of all: don't equate happiness with momentary pleasure.

In a consumer-driven society, it's all too easy to fall into all the don'ts on this list, because they share the same element: linking happiness with temporary pleasure and external rewards. Of course, we all live for the pleasure that life brings. No one is saying that you must deny yourself. But the most satisfying project you will ever undertake -- and a mark of a complete human being -- is to discover how to build a sense of happiness that no one can take away from you, because you have taken total responsibility for it. The journey to such happiness takes a long time, yet every step is one of fulfillment.

Step 3: Building Well-Being

Passively accepting your sadness is the same as forgetting to build your own happiness. Happiness is more than a mood. It's a long-lasting state that is more accurately called well-being. Well-being is a balanced state of mind and body that you feel subjectively as contentment, peace of mind and emotional freedom. Well-being opens the door to joy and deep satisfaction with your life. There are practical things you can do to help cultivate it such as: give of yourself (in other words, take care of others, and care for them); work at something you love; set worthy long-range goals that will take years to achieve; be open-minded; learn from the past and then put it behind you; plan for the future without anxiety, fear or dread; nurture close, warm social bonds; and develop emotional resilience.

Developing emotional resilience is perhaps the most important, because that's the ability to bounce back from bad things in your life. How do you encourage it? By being present with your feelings instead of fearing them, by getting past victimization or "poor me" thinking, by making a plan of action when things go wrong and sticking with it, by associating with people who are emotionally mature and seeking counsel from someone who has managed the same kind of crisis that you now face, by focusing on the times you have survived and thrived in the face of tough circumstances, and by appreciating and rewarding yourself for dealing with your difficulties.

Deepak concludes his wonderful summary with the observation that "Working on long-term, emotionally mature happiness is the best way to insulate yourself from downswings in your mood. Sadness comes and goes. Well-being can be made to last a lifetime. It doesn't matter how close you feel to this highly desirable state or how far. For everyone, well-being is a journey. All it requires is the right vision and devotion to personal growth. You have the inner guidance to support you. The secret is committing to that journey and taking those first steps with hope and belief in yourself." 

I don't know about you, dear reader, but I needed to take all of that under advisement.  Granted, this was a lot to absorb in one reading, but if you are as needy and as stubborn as me, maybe together we have gained something of benefit by staying the course.

I absolutely refuse to be sad, however, for those who left me after the first half-dozen paragraphs.  That only means that dealing with sadness is not an issue for them ... and that in itself makes me happy!

IT IS POSSIBLE TO FEEL SAD WITHOUT ACTUALLY BEING SAD

I watched "Heart of a Dog" on TV last night, mainly because it was about a Rat Terrier like my girl Lucy. This unusual film was not what I expected and I got more than I bargained for.

"You should learn how to feel sad without actually being sad," Laurie Anderson's Buddhist teacher told the performance artist after the loss of her beloved Rat Terrier, Lolabelle. That statement really got my attention!

Laurie Anderson and Lolabelle

Anderson's new film, Heart of a Dog, is in part a personal essay that tries to figure out what that injunction means, and how to live up to it in the wake of multiple losses. You don't have to be a Tibetan Buddhist or a pet lover, though, to spend 75 enthralling minutes with the endlessly associative contents of Anderson's head and heart.

And she's wise to the potential for sentimental self-indulgence in making a feature-length film about either her departed pooch or her guru, though the former has a starring role and the latter an advisory one. An odd, animated prologue in which Anderson dreams she has sewn Lolabelle into her abdomen so that she can be born like a human child clued me in to how far she will go toward whimsy before backing up into something at once more rigorous and soulful in the artful stream of consciousness that is Heart of a Dog.

We learn that Anderson loved Lolabelle to distraction, as she did her husband, rocker Lou Reed, who died of liver disease in 2013 and to whom she dedicates the film. She loved her late mother no less intensely, though with a haunting ambivalence that's just one of the painful threads she follows, in this case to a new appreciation of her mother's backhanded way of loving her back. 

Perhaps, too, mortality is on Anderson's mind because she's 68 years old, an age when even the healthy must confront the urgency of living life forward and cameo understanding it backward.

If that makes Heart of a Dog sound abstract, it's anything but. Along with the common hurts and losses that accrue to all of us with time, a couple of vivid childhood traumas pop up in Anderson's film that make you skip a breath, though not because she's out to ratchet up the drama. These formative events receive equal weight with Lolabelle's painting and piano lessons (yes, Lolabelle actually painted and played with keys on the piano) and Anderson's thoughts on how and when life really ends, all guided by a matter-of-fact voice over in her Midwestern, musical alto.

Heart of a Dog is the kind of film that attracts labels like "experimental," and I suppose it is, in its mixed-media collage of home movies, newsreel and CCTV footage, re-enactments and inter titles, backed by a lyrical score Anderson composed herself. Her sense of time, space, theme and reality is non-linear and digressive. But she also knows how to connect the dots into stories that don't feel in the least inaccessible or choppy, except perhaps in repeated segues to reveries about the post-Sept. 11 surveillance society that feel jarringly inorganic and nowhere as fresh or lively as her musings on Lolabelle's death or on how to properly mourn someone you've lost. (Crying is not allowed; giving stuff away is encouraged.)

Radical or not, Heart of a Dog is the ultimate realist narrative. It flows along, mimicking the continuous, fleeting, fragmentary flow of consciousness, the haze that lies between sleeping and waking, even between death and whatever lies behind it. And you don't have to follow Anderson into Buddhism to admire the common touch of the questions she poses. "What are the last things you say in your life, before you turn into dirt?" she asks, and lets that bracing question hang in the air for a bit before taking it in a direction you don't expect. There's more than one answer, by way of her dog and her mother, and she's as funny as she is bereft by the loss of both.

I was completely undone by a moment in which an otherwise withholding mother chose exactly the right moment to tell her small daughter what an excellent swimmer she was. In a movie that's often heartbreaking but never long-faced, you too might find yourself feeling sad without being sad.

Trying to practice how to feel sad without being sad, is of course very hard to do. But the point is: not to push away painful things, but also not to have them drag you down. You don't have to be a suffering, fearful, sad person. "I don't want to suffer! I want to be happy. But I know that pushing suffering away from me, and not feeling it as much as I can, makes me feel rotten," explained Anderson in a recent interview.

If you started out watching Heart of a Dog but gave up on it half way through because you had trouble following the author's unusual script presentation, I hope that this helps fill you in on what you missed. Rosanne taped it so that I could later go over the parts that I initially did not fully understand. 

As I now think about it, I feel sad about my Lucy's blindness without actually feeling sad...She still has the unconditional Heart of a Dog that I love so much. And I know that she "sees" me when she "hears" my voice or footsteps. She has made a remarkable adjustment and is still my full-of-life dog.

I too have made an adjustment...I feel sad on one hand but happy on the other, if you know what I mean.

Oh, I almost forget -- Laurie's Lolabelle was blind too.

A FLASHBACK: WHEN WRIGHTS LANE WAS CALLED "THE WRIGHT SLANT"

I began publishing this blog site some nine years ago under the "The Wright Slant" heading. Little did I know then that I would still be plugging away almost 800 entries and two dozen individual blog sites later. Just for the fun of it, I revisit here one of the very first posts after I had decided to keep on keeping on back in 2008.

From the other side of the keyboard

...Overcoming small obstacles to bring you my Slant

I absolutely have no idea where I am headed with this post, nor where it will end. But after 21 entries to The Wright Slant in roughly 30 days, can we talk?

To date, reaction to my ramblings has been minimal although the number of hits on this site have increased in the past couple of weeks. My experience was similar when writing six editorials a week in the newspaper business. It was like taking a handful of puff balls and throwing them to the wind each day...The only time that I knew one of them had landed was when I heard from a reader who did not agree with something I had written. So I go into this project with humble expectations and a special appreciation for those few who have provided welcomed encouragement.

The upside to all of this is the fact that I am doing something I enjoy. I honestly feel that The Wright Slant has given back at least 10 years of my life. Regardless of frequent warts and wrinkles, I derive great satisfaction from each piece that I produce and I am now able to approach my daily routine with renewed mental and physical energy. My general outlook on life has improved immensely. I am seeing and thinking with refreshing clarity. There is definite truth to the saying: If you do not use it, you loose it!

One great regret coming from my newspaper career was the fact that I never broke publisher ranks. Well, I am technically a publisher now, even if it is in twilight years and only a web site. My astute granddaughter, Alyssa, hit the nail on the head when she said that this site is a perfect release for me.

It is absolutely true that I now have an outlet for my thoughts and experiences and there is great satisfaction in sharing them. As I have said before, this is a labor of love. While I have communication limitations, it is somewhat comforting to know that I am at least able to express myself more effectively, freely and creatively though the written word. I did not always have this feeling after delivering one of my lay sermons. When speaking I am halting and slow, even deliberate, almost as though I am editing in my mind what I am going to say before I say it. At times of spontaneity, I am quite proud of myself and wish I could be that way more often.

When writing these days, however, I have to be very careful and go over each sentence after I have written it. I have never officially been diagnosed as dyslectic but I am sure that I am and for this reason my work has to be checked and double-checked. Still, I can review something a dozen times and overlook an obvious transposition of letters or word repetition each time. I am also notorious for letting my mind get ahead of my typing fingers. This is where my wife, Rosanne, can be of great assistance in the role of proof reader. She has a sharp eye for errors and I find myself calling on her services more frequently as time passes. With experience, I just do not trust myself all that much any more. So when errors appear in my text you can depend that it is because I have slipped something past Rosanne and I apologize.

Today I am facing a new problem that has me really scratching my head in wonder. My computer is not accepting question marks, exclamation marks, quotation marks, apostrophes or brackets and I have to admit to a degree of frustration. I am getting weird typographical characters instead that make no sense at all.

There is always something to overcome in my world.

TRY INCULDING YOURSELF IN SPRING IMPROVEMENT PROJECTS

Pick up any newspaper or magazine during the month of April and you will see a story about "spring cleanup."  A heading in today's Toronto Star particularly got my attention: "Spring is nature's way of telling us to tidy up."

The long-awaited return of warm, sunny weather has enticed eager gardeners and amateur landscapers out of hibernation. A winter's worth of accumulated sand and road dust is being swept from garage floors and driveways. That long list of home improvement projects---outdoor painting, cleaning out the shed, fixing a saggy fence, preparing flower beds --- can be tackled at last.

But know what?...Spring is also a good time for a self-improvement project, if we are so motivated by the annual urge for renewal. A question one can be encouraged to ask occasionally is: “How can I improve?” Better still, why not direct this question to someone close to us? A good relationship is defined by honesty. Are there people in our lives who care enough about us to not always say what we want to hear, but what we need to know?

Most of us can learn more from our mistakes than from our successes. With every success, we are tempted to continue doing the same thing because it seems to work and is comfortably familiar. But, after making a mistake, we can be motivated to try a different approach, one which may result in better success.

Admittedly, it does require some courage to ask: "How can I improve?" What would happen if we asked our spouse or children: "How can I be a better partner or parent?" You might risk being taken advantage of: "Dad, you could let me drive the car to school every day." You might risk sarcasm: "Dear, how could someone as perfect a husband as you are possibly need to improve?" Most importantly, it helps if you can muster up a thick skin…You do risk hearing a painful truth, but that honesty, if well-intended, could make a good relationship even better. 

The same openness to helpful criticism can apply to work situations, either as boss or employee. Too many trainees, those on internships, apprenticeships or practicums focus on demonstrating their mastery of a task rather than on their eagerness to learn do it better.

As a newspaper editor, I once had the bright idea of conducting occasional meetings with reportorial staff to review and discuss the handling of specific stories in a selected day’s edition, i.e. was an item balanced in structure and content, was it positioned to best advantage, could it be improved in any way? 

I have never forgotten one local news story in particular that had been written by a reporter who had a tendency toward awkward phraseology at times and in editing his copy I condensed several paragraphs so as to improve the flow of the story.

One eagle-eyed reporter at a meeting questioned the explanation of a fact in the portion of the story that I had rewritten, prompting the author to quickly reply “I didn’t write it that way…It was edited!”

“Oh,” the other chimed in…”I didn’t think that you would ever express it that poorly.”

I cannot recall ever again holding one of those types of meetings with my staff. But I did indeed learn something.

Years ago, when he taught college students, a friend recalls developing a simple end-of-semester evaluation questionnaire. He elicited their thoughts on the course and also on himself as a teacher.

These days many professors use more sophisticated tools to measure these same factors. A problem they sometimes encounter is that a successful course might be defined by the popularity of the instructor, rather than the effectiveness of his or her teaching methodology. The professor who is flexible with due dates, tells great jokes and marks essays gently can be evaluated higher than a more brilliant counterpart who is hard nosed with assignments and strict with grades. Asking for honest criticism works best when the one providing feedback does so objectively, without some axe to grind or favours to seek.

How do we receive honest feedback?  Ideally, it can be accepted without being defensive, threatened or angry. An ancient Biblical proverb sums it up nicely:

“Faithful are the wounds of a friend;

But the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.”

Just some food for thought in the weeks ahead as we tackle annual Spring “tidying up” projects around our homes – and maybe even on ourselves if we are broadminded enough to listen to an honest assessment delivered with love(?).

ADAM LAROCHE IS TRULY ONE IN A MILLION: More to his life than earning millions$$$ playing baseball...

Hollywood could not write a more compelling story than that of a Major League ballplayer becoming an undercover agent. Heck, with all the sequels, and reboots being made today it’s safe to say movie-makers lack the creativity to come up with a story like this.

For those of you who don’t follow baseball, allow me to fill you in on the excellent career of southeast Kansas’ own Adam LaRoche.

Adam LaRoche: About to connect.

Born to former big-leaguer Dave LaRoche, Adam (along with his brother, Andy) was destined to play in ‘The Show.’ After being an All-American in high school, the Fort Scott native was drafted in 1998 (and again in 1999) by the Florida Marlins, but refused to sign. Adam decided to go to college, and went on to win MVP of the Junior College World Series in 2000.

Adam was drafted in 2000 by the Atlanta Braves, where he would spend the next six years playing. After a few years in the minors, Adam was called up by the Braves in 2004. Over the course of the next 12 years Adam would go on to play for the Pittsburgh Pirates, Boston Red Sox, Atlanta Braves (again), Arizona Diamondbacks, Washington Nationals, and Chicago White Sox.

Over the course of his career the first-baseman hit 255 home runs, won a gold glove, a Silver Slugger Award, and a National League Wilson Defensive Player of the Year Award.

Aside from being a great ballplayer, LaRoche is also a devout Christian. While playing for the Washington Nationals, Adam helped to promote “Faith Day” at Nationals Park along with several of his teammates. He would continue to promote “Faith Day” on other teams later in his career, as well. In fact, his faith may have played a huge part as to why he walked away from the game he loves.

Before the White Sox 2015 “Faith Day” game, LaRoche spoke briefly on the day’s importance:

“As a believer, it is and should be the most important thing in our lives, so to be able to get up briefly and share that is an honor. And the fact that the White Sox allow it is great because some teams try to shy away from things like that and any type of (potential) controversy.



Before the 2016 season started, Laroche was making headlines for causing some controversy that would lead to his departure from the White Sox organization, and Major League Baseball itself. For years Laroche had brought his son into the clubhouse every day, and had never had any problems.

“I never took it for granted. You could have a manager who just flat doesn’t like it. You can have players complain — ‘Hey, we’re tired of having a kid around.’ There’s a chance we could have other guys see Drake and think, ‘I’ll bring my kid too.’ Obviously we can’t turn this into a day care. I get it.”

After 12 years, someone on LaRoche’s team told management they no longer wanted the slugger to bring his son to work. Prior to the 2016 season, the White Sox informed Adam that his son would no longer be welcome in the clubhouse on a day-to-day basis.

Here is what White Sox president Ken Williams told baseball expert Ken Rosenthal:



The argument could be made (for good reason) that a locker room is no place to bring a child. Adam even says as much, but explains why he wants his son around:

“There’s no other workplace where you walk in and guys are slapping each other in the nuts and saying the stuff they do. You can say, ‘That’s no place for a kid to be. The way I see it, he’s going to be around that regardless, unless you homeschool and raise them in a bubble. I can’t think of a better place for him to be when he gets a taste of that than with me.”



Adam, who has a very close relationship with his 14-year-old son, Drake, saw only one option: walk away from his $13 million deal with the White Sox, and retire from Major League Baseball. That was the story the White Sox were told, and for the most part, everyone believed it.

LaRoche made the following announcement to his team after being informed of the club’s new policy in regards to children being around the locker room:

“I am choosing my son over you guys. I cannot tell you how much I hate that I’m even having to make this decision, and how much it crushes me to feel like I could be leaving you guys hanging.”

That seems pretty straightforward, until you take a deeper look at Adam LaRoche’s life. He has never been one to conform to societal norms. For better, or worse (probably worse) Adam says he isn’t as concerned with his kids’ grades, choosing to focus on “How are they treating their classmates, and how are they treating [the teacher]?” That’s just a glimpse into what Adam values as important. Over the years, many things have come in and taken priority over baseball, including family, and faith.

Many aren’t aware, but Laroche has a lot going on outside of baseball. He’s one of the co-owners of Outdoor Network’s Buck Commander, along with former teammate Chipper Jones (and Willie Robertson of Duck Dynasty), and a host of other ballplayers/celebrities, but that’s not even close to the most interesting thing Laroche does in his free time (he also runs a cattle ranch).

This was recently reported by ESPN’s Tim Keown, and it might give some insight into the real reason for Laroche’s retirement:

LaRoche, along with Brewers pitcher Blaine Boyer, spent 10 days in November in Southeast Asian brothels, wearing a hidden camera and doing undercover work to help rescue underage sex slaves. All of which raises a question: After 12 years in the big leagues, the endless days and nights in dugouts and clubhouses, how did LaRoche’s nearly cinematic level of nonconformity escape detection?

… Working through a nonprofit called the Exodus Road, LaRoche and Boyer conducted surveillance in brothels and tried to determine the age of the girls — known only by numbers pinned to bikinis — and identify their bosses.

“Something huge happened there for us,” Boyer says. “You can’t explain it. Can’t put your finger on it. If you make a wrong move, you’re getting tossed off a building. We were in deep, man, but that’s the way it needed to be done. Adam and I truly believe God brought us there and said, ‘This is what I have for you boys.’”

That’s right, last fall LaRoche, along with fellow big-leaguer Blaine Boyer, went undercover in Southeast Asia to rescue underage sex slaves from local brothels. Let that sink in for a minute. A pair of white professional athletes went undercover in an effort to rescue children from sex slavery.

How many of you would step away from $13 million dollars? Most people would have a difficult time doing that, but Adam Laroche isn’t like most people. While it was assumed that he retired because of reasons stemming from his son not being allowed in the clubhouse, this new information throws a wrinkle into that theory.

When asked if he would attempt to recoup the $13 million he was set to make in 2016, Adam stated plainly, “No. I did it. I made the final decision.” Clearly, money isn’t the motivating factor for LaRoche.

“I can understand how people look at the $13 million. One, how stupid does somebody have to be? Or, how selfish? Suck it up for six months, right?”

Stupid might not be the right word, but that is an awful lot of money to walk away from, over something as small as not being able to bring your kid to work.

Did the trip to the brothels have that much of an impact on LaRoche? Perhaps the former big-leaguer has his sights set on new horizons. Maybe he feels as though God is calling him to something different. Maybe we are overanalyzing, and he simply wants to hang out with his kid more, and spend his free time hunting, and fishing with his buddies.



Maybe all of those factors played a part in LaRoche’s decision to hang it up. I simply refuse to believe the “Rich Man Quits Over Son” narrative because that’s not the type of guy LaRoche seems to be.

In regards to bringing his kid to work, Adam says he was always upfront with his employers:

“I would go to those managers every year. I would tell them, ‘Listen, if there’s ever an issue, specifically if a player comes up to you, you’ve got to let me know.'”

LaRoche isn’t an unreasonable man. Perhaps, for the first time, he saw the difference he could make in the world WITHOUT having to hit a ball. Maybe God has enormous plans for this small-town slugger, turned sex-slave recovery operative.

Whatever his plans for the future, we wish Adam LaRoche good luck! With all the athletes that attract negative headlines, it’s refreshing to be reminded that excellent role-models still exist in American sports. God bless you, Adam LaRoche!

THE KEY IS KNOWING WHEN YOU ARE ENOUGH

It seems like almost everyone I know is in the midst of a physical and emotional transformation of some kind, myself included. Symptoms range from serious challenges (cancer, Lyme disease, etc.) to very annoying (but not life-threatening) things like chronic headaches, arthritis, vertigo, reflux, food sensitivities, parasites, blood flow, sleeplessness -- you add to the list.

An acquaintance has spent thousands of dollars during the past five years on western, eastern medical treatments, woo-woo energetic healings, medical intuitives, EFT release techniques, herbs, aromatherapy, homeopathic remedies, flower remedies, cleanses, acupuncture, vitamins, consultants and just about anything else you can think of, but her chronic conditions are still there. Every treatment helps a little, but is not a cure.

A little closer to home, my wife and I spend hundreds of dollars a month on vitamins and remedies which in retrospect I am not convinced are helping much.

Looking into my own psyche and observing my friends in the same boat, I see a pattern: We are all very driven creatures who enjoy producing results, making a difference in the world. That is the "outer" part of it.

Going deeper, it's clear that we are also trying, sometimes desperately, to fill up parts of our soul. Seeking respect and attention in the form of our success. The way we fill these holes is different with each of us. Certainly ego plays a big role. Identity is commonly tied to outer abilities.

Busyness is also a big piece of this. Writer friend Arielle Ford recently diagnosed herself with what she calls "chronic shpilkes." Shpilkes is a Yiddish word that means having "ants in your pants." It also means impatience and agitation. You might also call it an "adrenalin addiction."

While the soul is clearly screaming for a kinder, gentler, more peaceful day-to-day existence, and while the mind knows, believes, and understands that we can "do less and accomplish more," the reality is that we are often still in an overdoing mode.

Here's what I know for sure about this:

It's not about having "more."

It's not about having more organic juices, more yoga classes, more money, more results, more success, more books, more sex, more this or more that.

It's about really, truly getting to enough.

I am enough.

You are enough.

I'm resolved to the fact that I do not need "more".  I can't get any better and some days I think that I can't get any worse.

I now see that nobody out there has the "cure" to my particular issue(s) because nothing is wrong -- really. Nature is taking its course.  This is my journey to figure out and I'd better catch up with myself while I still have a few more miles left in the old engine -- and to enjoy being just as I am and as imperfect as I may be.

The nice part of it is...I do not have to be in a hurry anymore.  It has always been against my nature.

"YOU CAN'T EXPECT A MIRACLE IF YOU DON'T ASK FOR ONE"

I rarely post on Wrights Lane unless I have something of interest to share with readers, preferably a subject that is relateable and has a positive message of some kind.  I believe strongly in reinforcement through the experience of others.  What follows here is a first-person account of how miracles are possible if you only believe strongly enough.

Back in October of last year it was discovered that my wife Rosanne had developed Mantel Cell Lymphoma, possibly as a result of drugs she had been taking to counteract Inflammatory Colitis.  "What else can go wrong for this poor girl?" I remember thinking at the time.  We were devastated but I was bolstered by the degree of acceptance and determination in Rosanne's demeanor.  Cancer in the form of non-Hodgkins lymphoma, it seemed, was just one more health setback for someone already so sick yet characteristically optimistic and full of life.

ROSANNE

Her case was referred to Oncologist Dr. Selay Lam, at the London Region Cancer Centre.  Dr. Lam, who has a reputation for thinking "outside the box," pinpointed a 25-centimeter tumor on the left side of Rosanne's bowel and was quick to prescribe chemotherapy treatment consisting of seven-hour drips of Bendamustine once a month, followed by two hours of the drug riTUimab within 24 hours the next day.  We were told that while Mantel Cell Lymphoma was treatable, it could not be cured.

A second full-body cat scan was ordered recently for Rosanne following her fourth two-day chemo treatment and a smiling Dr. Lam broke the news to us two weeks ago that the tumor in her bowel had completely disappeared and her latest blood test was clear of any signs of lymphoma.  Stopping short of the word "miracle", Dr. Lam said: "The tumor is gone and Bendamustine obviously did its job.  I am so pleased with how well you have responded."

"I prayed every day for a miracle!" Rosanne exclaimed, adding "You can't expect a miracle if you don't ask for one!  Thank you doctor for the role you have played in all of this!"

As ordered by Dr.Lam, Rosanne had her fifth series of chemo treatments on Tuesday and Wednesday of last week and she has a sixth scheduled for the month of May... After that she will have a different type of chemo administered once every three months for the next two years as maintenance to make sure the lymphoma stays away.  In recent days she has been extremely tired and relies totally on oxygen for her COPD affliction.  When the lymphoma reared its ugly head Rosanne was summarily dismissed by her Gastroenterologist and Colitis has flared up again but she is buoyed by the knowledge that her cancer is gone and that she has one less thing to worry about.

I have delayed in writing about Rosanne's remarkable story, almost like I could not believe it myself -- had I not lived it with her.  Many of our friends and family have prayed along with Rosanne and there is no doubt in my mind that that too has helped.

Curious, I asked Rosanne what she had been repeatedly saying to God in her prayers.  She explained that she always begins her prayers by expressing love of God and being thankful for the blessings in her life, especially the members of her family. She mentions, in particular, those who are in poor health or in need comforting in any way...It is then customary for her to end her prayer by saying:  "Dear God, the last prayer is for me.  I am asking for a miracle in curing the tumor in my bowel.  Please help me God...I need you.  I need a miracle.  I love you. Thank you Lord.  --Amen."  

Just a simple prayer by a woman who heretofore has asked for very little in life outside of love -- for herself and others.  On this occasion she got a miracle and it was deserved. For that, I too thank God.

As Rosanne has said more than once, "You can't expect a miracle if you don't ask for one!"

OH COME ON DICK, WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE!

The coffee that went for a ride...On the roof of my car.

If it was not for having fun at my own expense, I would have very little fun at all.  In fact some of my fun experiences are actually amazingly unbelievable.

Today, for instance, I made my routine early evening trip to Tim Horton's to pick up a small coffee, large ice cap and 12-grain bagel for Rosanne (what the heck, I have to pamper her), a medium coffee for me -- and an old-fashioned plain Timbit for my dog Lucy (I pamper her too).

As is my practise, I placed the beverage carrying tray on the roof of my car in order to open the door.
The bagged bagel and Timbit was habitually tossed on the passenger's seat.

On the six-block drive home a guy, walking a dog at the side of the road, gave me what I considered a dirty look.  "What's his problem?" I wondered.

Pulling into my driveway and slowly coming to a halt (didn't want to spill my coffee, been there and done that) I came to a startling revelation.  Something was missing -- the coffee.  "Where's the coffee?...Oh no, don't tell me..." was my instant reaction.  "Surely not!"

I could not remember bringing the tray of coffee into the car.  I was afraid to get out and look...Another $6.35 down the drain, I thought.  As I opened the door expecting the worst, I sheepishly glanced up at the roof.

...And what to my wondering eyes should appear -- the coffee, fully intact in the tray, exactly where I had absent mindedly left it.  Miraculously, after six blocks, two stop signs and three corners turned, it hadn't moved an inch.  No wonder the guy walking his dog gave me that strange look.

Boy, did I ever have a story to tell Rosanne!

The coffee tasted particularly good that evening.