At Least They're Committed

Dear Grandchildren I’ll Never Meet,

It’s now 2012 and there’s no sign of you yet, so I’m thinking my prognostication is right on. Well, let’s hope so at this point since your Mom or Dads are only 22, 20 and 15. Another 10 years, methinks, at least, and yes I know that doesn’t make me very old (60), but I find it quite remarkable and somewhat troubling that I’ve lasted this long. Somewhere along the way I got it in my head that I wouldn’t make it past 45. Silly, silly me! I tried to get what I needed done in that time so that I could leave feeling that I’d contributed to this world as I passed violently into the next . . . but here I am, continuing to contribute in some small way and all that shit.

So, here’s what’s up:

• Barack Obama is president. I’ll be voting for him again and rallying to support him. Lots of Facebook friends and even some of my extended family despise him but I know it’s because they’re all racists.
• Your grandpa just walked down the stairs. His resolution this year is to lose 60 pounds — which is 10 pounds more than he resolved to lose last year. He’s at the same job he’s been working at for 20 years, but he’s content with that.
• I changed jobs the past year (see earlier postings) and it hasn’t been without its drawbacks, but I think quite highly of my bosses, I am a true warrior for our mission and I can trust at least a couple coworkers and so I’ll keep plugging along and hope the rest works out. (To whomever keeps reading and rereading ‘Thanks for Coming!’ as of late, stop! It took me 10 minutes to spit out and it’s one thought of, like, hundreds of thousands I have in a day.)
• We had a lovely holiday with both sets of your great grandparents. There’s a very good chance some will be around when you get here. Truly, your parents are blessed to have gotten to know all their grandparents so well. My grandfather (my mother’s dad) died when she was 13 or so. Your grandfather’s dad’s dad died when Tommy was 7.
• I got tired of drinking so I’m only doing it when I’m out with my friends . . . my REAL friends. Too many calories! I’m off my meds, doing well with my eating, but the poundage just isn’t falling off. Maybe eliminating wine will help. Stay tuned!
• The rapture was supposed to start in May of last year and by Oct. 21 only the worst of us were supposed to still be here. Ta-da! Well, a few sad, lost souls were taken — Janie Lane, Amy Winehouse and my former boss, Eliot O’Brien — but I’m not sure it’s related.
• People believe that the world will end Dec. 21 of this year because the Mayan calendar will run out. I think they would have put “The End” if that were the case, though. It would have only been one more line, ya know?

So, yes, I continue to write for you because I’ve seen others like me in my ancestry, but only in small glimpses. Should any of you, either born into this family or adopted, be the least bit tormented or questioning in the manner in which I am, if you feel others’ pain, end up with three rescue dogs, are unable to pass a street person without giving money or your shirt or whatever helps, I’m hoping this helps you. Yes, I know it’s all in our heads — the inability to find that comfort level or settle or absolve ourselves of the quest to find what at the eff we’re supposed to be doing here — but without the head, there’s not much left except for organ donation. Now, that would be a great last gift, wouldn’t it?