Fred Szabo, 1914-2008

My mother's father died on Monday night, Fred Szabo. He died of complications from a stroke after a very short stay in a hospice last night around 2030. He was 93 according to my mother, I'm not sure the math works out correctly, but the point is he lived a long life, and was active nearly to the end, we should all be that fortunate.

It was a rarity I didn't quite grasp in suburban Toledo, Ohio and rural Michigan when I was a small boy. My mother had two fathers. Divorces and divorced people were treated like your cousin who is in jail, not talked about in polite society. I knew my mother didn't care for him too much, but he seemed, to a small child, to be a generous man, who showed up on rare occasions and we could call grandpa, bonus attention. My mother's step-father served as my day-to-day grandfather, but this mysterious man would show up in his big car and whisk us away to places we didn't normally go. I don't want to be overly poetic about it, the occasions were very rare, and the last I saw of him I was an angry teenager.

Naturally, as you grow up, you get to learn all that stuff you didn't actually want to know in the first place, family gossip, who did who to what, and I had thirty years of that. My mother fairly well vilified him, and being the person I am, I took her at her word. It turns out, there are two sides to every story, and maybe even fifty years ago, it took two people to ruin most marriages. I got to learn these things as my mother went through the slow process of making peace with the man, which reached it's dramatic high point late last year.

I really only know him through the eyes of my mother, and the facts that I do know about him. He was a good businessman and for whatever it is worth, he stayed with the same woman the entire time that I have been alive. I've also so learned that some wounds run so deep that fifty or sixty years is not enough time to even acknowledge them, not just to have them heal.

Szabo is my Hungarian heritage, and I admit it, I don't know a lot about it past some of the wonderful meals my mother made. I do know much more about my Irish heritage, and so next time I have a drink, I'll raise my glass to a man I never knew, in hope that at the end of my life, I will. May God accept him with open arms.

Rendered Speechless

I don't usually go to McDonald's. I have my reasons, but generally you can attribute this to bad customer service and trans-fat. This week however, I had two occasions to override my normal aversion to going there, and try them out, and I was paid back with stupidity on an epic scale.

Here's a clue McDonald's. If I choose to go to your "restaurant", it isn't because you have exceptionally tasty food, it's because I want hot food now.

Monday night, I left the house on time for work, and decided on the way I would stop at the Papillion 84th & highway 370 location. I ordered a value meal, I get in line, in fact I am the only one in line, and I wait, and I wait, and I wait. In fact I waited nine minutes in between the time my money is taken and someone shows back up at the window to explain to me that their automatic drink machine is not working, and they couldn't get me my drink. There is no manual override on these things? Now I appreciate the clerks honesty, and it wasn't her fault, but seriously, you can't get me a drink in under nine minutes? Getting my meal took me twelve minutes. I was a couple minutes late for work. I could order from Village Inn and have my meal that fast.

But wait, here comes the epic part.

Wednesday night and I was running behind for work because I turned around when I noticed I forgot my phone. No problem, I got to work on time, and ate my frozen dinner there, figuring I'd just go someplace later. 0330 runs around I tell my coworker Chris I am going to step out and get some lunch. My plan is to either go to McDonald's, Taco Bell, or the Super Saver grocery store ... I am leaning heavily towards the grocery store, but Chris says "Where you going?"

It turns out he would like me to pick him up a burger, so I say McDonald's is fine. I get in my car, get over to the McDonald's at 144th & I80, I have Chris' $5 bill and my ATM visa. I pull up and the voice at the drive through says "welcome blah blah blah, I am sorry, but we can only accept cash at this time." Maybe I am a little spoiled, but I am pretty much used to the ATM card for everything now, so I say no thank you.

I pull off in my car, call Chris "dude, can I borrow your change and pay you tomorrow?"

"No problem" he says. I get back in line, I order, it comes to $7.13 (I don't know what a burger costs), so I look through the car change bucket, not enough. So I am to plan C now. I call Chris, and I tell him that I am driving down to the Millard 136th & Q street McDonald's and I'll be a little longer than expected.

I get down there, pull up to the speaker and hear a different voice say "welcome blah blah blah, I am sorry, but we can only accept cash at this time." Must be something wrong with every McDonald's. Hmmm.

What? "No thank you." I say, but I got a plan D. Those who know me well know that I like to have at least a plan B for just about everything, going to the bathroom? Can't? I got a plan B.

I head over to the Super Saver grocery store. It's not a big deal, I need a few things, and I can get some cash. They have a great sale on Pepsi products, sweet. Some frozen pizzas and breakfast and I check out. The poor checkout girl must be eight and a half months pregnant, she waddles from lane one to lane twelve (the only open one) to help me. I get my groceries and cash.

By this time it is after 0400, on the way back I pull back into the 144th and I80 McDonald's and hear "welcome blah blah blah, I am sorry, but we can only accept cash at this time." Ha! I got you outsmarted, I have cash now, so I ordered. "I'm sorry sir, we have moved to our breakfast menu."

I was literally speechless. I just stared at the speaker. "Sir, sir, sir?" I drove off again with no food.

Now I know I could have called Chris, gotten breakfast, and gone with plan E. At that point, I couldn't have gotten word one out of my mouth. I came back to the office, gave Chris his $5, offered him half of my pizza, sat down, faced forward, and stayed speechless.

---

About nine years ago I had a dispute with Baker's grocery stores that was my fault. I bounced a check at a Baker's due to a math error, I think I even called them and told them about the mistake, but their policy at the time was to only try to deposit checks once, not twice. I paid the $42 in fees, and maybe go into a Baker's once a year on my own now, even though it is the closest and most convenient store to my house. They didn't give my check a 2nd chance, I'm not going to give them a second chance.

The Taco Bell on 120th & Center (I didn't go here for seven years or to any Taco Bell for two, as a matter of fact I am still mad about this one), the Fantasy's gas station in Bellevue (the one that was on Galvin Road, it was over four years, and they sold it), K-Mart (can't even remember what they did, but it was a long time ago, I was married at the time), all have felt the wrath of my non-shopping.

This will be the third time McDonald's has gotten on my do not go there list. Good luck getting off of it this time. If I ever go back, you can be sure of one thing, I'll have a plan F, and G, and H...

I take back every nice thing I said about Ben

I see how my friends are, try to get in a little cat nap at a party ... you can bet no one bothered Mae.

Much Thanks and My Spiral

The last picture of Cherokee.

I want to give a big thanks to all my friends for both their presence and thoughts/prayers during this last week as I made the decision to put Cherokee down and carried through on it. Another big public thanks to Maegmariel for going with me, staying with me, and crying with me ... you made a difference. Spanky & Mae, my dancing friends, Venche, everyone at the Mardi Gras party, and everyone at the SuperBowl party for helping to keep me busy and somewhat distracted. Thank you also to all those people who commented on my notes and postings, and who sent me personal messages.

I read a quote lately (sorry, I don't remember where) that said "Whenever you are unsure about the character of a man, look at his friends." While it is true that I doubt my own sanity and character often, if I followed this quote, I would feel much better about myself, because you, my friends, are loving and full of concern. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Our appointment was for 0830, and we were there on time, despite me taking a wrong turn. Dr Bosilevac came in and we talked for a minute, he had opened his clinic about the time I came to Omaha (late 1993), he said many of first patients were all coming to the end, and it was sad for him too. Cherokee was none too happy with me, and tried to show his displeasure by making me jealous by going to Maegmariel, it didn't work, I love him. As for the procedure, it was fine, a little problem finding a vein, but I held him as he sat, Dr B gave him the shot, he laid down and was gone. I wept as much for my failure to be perfect to him as I did out of this departing.

Lately I have been dwelling more on my cowardice than my courage. This was the hardest thing I have ever done, and God willing will ever do ... I saw my love for Cherokee through to the end, I suppose that is courage.

---

"We" make a lot of light and fun of my primary love language being physical touch. I haven't wanted any. There are a few people I would just like to my head down on and cry, but for the most part, I haven't wanted anything but a few words of encouragement and some quality time.

I am afraid to open my mouth. Schmendrick calls it a filter, that little part of your brain that interrupts what you are about to say and sends it to the trash can before it can get out. I don't have a good one, I might not have one at all, I've just learned to review everything that comes out of my mouth before it comes out. "Better to be thought of as a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt..." My adult life has been full of this, just attempting to keep my mouth shut.

Unfortunately, when I get stressed, I have a need to be validated. One of the ways I choose to do this by talking and, since I am stressed, I tend to pay less attention to what gets out before it gets out, and I say stuff that in retrospect, I should have not said. Retrospect doesn't take long, I begin overthinking what I just said almost as soon as it comes out of my mouth. I say something possibly stupid, then try to make up for it with a stupider story, which leads to dumber explanation, and quickly I am doubting myself, babbling incoherently, getting (or thinking I am getting) into a hole, making my friends mad at me, and feeling bad about myself.

This is my spiral, my vicious circle, the hole I can't climb out of. I did it on the phone after the SuperBowl party tonight. Then immediately asked two other friends for validation. I'm not sure how to dig myself out of something when the answer doesn't involve an empty tummy. It gets worse and worse the more I do it, so I just end up withdrawing from the world.

I don't want to flake out, withdraw from everyone for a couple months, and then come back with nary an explanation. I've done this trick before, it is ineffective at best. I don't have a clue about not doing it, so I am just going to fight through it the best I can ... I suppose that is courage too.

In Memoriam

Cherokee, my best friend for 14 years. Faithful friend, great listener, patient, encouraging, and loving. He deserved so much better than me.
b: Dec 31, 1993ish, d: Feb 01, 2008.
Wait for me buddy.