Declan And I Go See "Fury"

  There was something in the trailer about "Fury", other than a Tanker movie set during WW2 that really grabbed my attention from the get go. There was an element of humanity and how things get so fucked around in a war. Of course that's going to happen, by definition war is controlled chaos. It's MEANT to cause question, over step bounds of normal society, become it's own self feeding machine. That's all part of what makes it war. It's often romanticized, hero's given bigger than life stature, and honestly, that's how it should be, to me. Without someone to look at and say "He stood all that. All the pain, suffering, death, for an ideal greater than himself? That's a hero."

 Let me say now, you've seen I've gone to the movie without being very objective about it. It's gonna show here, I'm certain. So let's cut the meat and serve them taters.

  Dec, my new movie buddy, is a wonderful young man to have around me. 16 years old and far more patient than I am. Ever HAVE been for that matter. He's sharp as a tack. Funny, but only a scoash sarcastic. That's a nice switch from being me. He catches onto ideas and ideology quickly. During this movie, I don't think either one of us has set so quietly or paid so close attention to what was going on up on the screen. Both of us waited until they called in a rescue boat, both of us about to float off. I waited so long my legs gave up the ghost for a minute or two, simply because I was in pain. Foolish man. We were drawn to the screen. The action is great, (violence if you're the Washington Post) simply because it's a war movie. Critics, take note, people get blown apart, shot and bleed a lot, and in a battle, all that happens at once. Grow the fuck up. So, we watch the "Gas Cans", as Sherman tanks were called, go off to take towns in Germany toward the end of the war.  Always under gunned, terribly under armored, too flat where it counted and no where really curved enough, it's a wonder any survived at all. The Tank Commanders and men like Gen. George Patton and Omar Bradley understood this, and made the best use of it they could. The crews had less time alive than day light bombers at the beginning of the ETA. Remember, all this plays in here in some roundabout way I hope I get right.


   War Daddy, Brad Pitts character. Promises his crew he'll keep them alive. He does, from North Africa, Italy, France, Belgium and into Germany. He's the father of these men, not in the literal sense of course, but as their leader. I'm watching away and think "Damn, I've said nearly these same things to people and the family."  We both made that mistake "I'll protect you", because we can't. When that fails, our tempers go. And they go exactly where they shouldn't. Mine to My Gift, Liz, his to his men. We both know it's wrong, but we can't help ourselves. We are wired to protect our flock, and there's never going to be enough time to teach them all we've learned. Forty years it's taken me to figure out how this should work. I can't teach that in one or two. My Frustration Level peaks because I can see myself losing this part of the battle. War Daddy sees that as well. Dec would be my replacement assistant driver in the movie. He's close to that now. The new guy has a conscience that's not been bugged up after three years surviving war in a Gas Can. I believe is startles Daddy, and damn sure does the crew. Dec does that to me, daily. It's damn cool folks, to see your son mature right before your eyes. I don't have the words to explain the feeling, or how very proud I am of him.
  This is just a bit of what I find in the movie I can relate to myself. Is it odd that I can find this so easily to take on and use for my own good? I hope not, since finding some way to gather your own inspiration to be better shouldn't be limited by anything, should it? Find it, make it yours, use all the best parts of it, and certainly it can't be bad to do that. Now, what I've done is cherry pick for me. Let me know what you all think. Dec and I are still pretty much "GREAT FUCKING MOVIE!!!"  Protect the tank, the tank is our home.

  Well, I can't protect the tank. The tank is me, and kids, my time is running out. It's on the fast track to Critical Mass. I can feel it. The cancer gets heavier every day. He's sucking my wind away, my prostate feels like a fucking coconut, and my all over is all but over. This is not the way of going out I saw. I saw myself going several ways, but wasting away to a fucking team of cells that don't understand their own mitosis is gonna kill me. Cells, you think they'd know better. So, knowing this, watching the clock run, having weakness gain the upper hand, the "good time" slip from time to moment, all these crank my frustration level up to and beyond good sense. I get abusive. No, not physically, mentally via note and bull shit remarks that hurt the people I love. I don't know why I do it, some new age psyco-babble might put it down as "Making everyone as miserable as you". Fuck me, that's probably true right there. I do have options. I am going to implement Option One. When I see myself doing that, I'm going to call "Time Out" so I can sort out what I need to do in order to stop my own bull shit.  I can see the pain in Liz eyes not only when I'm being a freakishly large Prick to her, but all the time. It's growing on her almost as Baxter is growing in me. She's being quiet, internalized, and some what stand offish. Those are her protection rings she's had since I've known her. I hate to see them come out.

  This is what the cancer is doing to me and my family. It's chewing us down a little at a time. Dec's patience is strong, stronger than he knows. Addison's tender heart, I feel so badly for her. Of the four, she has her heart measured in miles, not kilo's. The sweet kids carry the hardest burden, I believe. Sarah and Chance? Oh, they are strong, and starting their own lives. I know from reading between the lines of our talks, both of them are hurting, and they are like the old man in this regard. Too proud to admit it. This is making my job damn hard. I've promised to see my new grand children. 90-180 days out. Some how, I've got to keep that promise. I'm on a quest to personalize the Dodge for Liz and Declan. My Highland Athlete and Patient, loving son, need transport so slick there is no idea left to the imagination that these two people are the greatest I know that compete in the Games. Sorry TCAA, every one of you are great people and gifted athletes, Liz and Dec are gifts to me from the Big Guy, I just share them.

  With any thing resembling good luck, I'll make it to February 15, 2015. Arbitrary date I picked because I can. I should have been dead seven or eight months ago anyway, why not string this out? It also puts me on a phase two quest. Finding one of those silly electric carts to carry my ass around on for a while. The walker helps, but it's gonna be outta style and usefulness pretty quickly. February 15 is two days after they cut me loose in 2013. Home and barfing on the day before Valentine's Day. Full of hope we could fix all this that fell apart on the operating table. Seeing it back and getting a "Dead Man Walking" prognosis only 4.5 months later. Some shit there, huh? This is where reality hits. Well, it hit me a while before that, but the metal is on the meat now, and it's grinding away. This is how it is and has been for me. I feel it. It's not imaginary, it's real. I can feel the damn cancer grow, chew, spit out the parts of me he doesn't like, and moves on. All of my lack of wind isn't from lack of exercise, it's damn cancer floating around. Yes, it's hard to breath. I have to stagger my walking with my rate of breathing so I can get from A to B without falling fucking down. No, that's exaggerating. Without having to stop every fifty feet or so to catch my wind. I don't let Liz see that if I can help it. Silly me, though, she knows and can point it out. I think, honestly, I'm much much worse at hiding my infirmities than I was. There was a time when I could snap a finger in two, set the bone, tape her up and be on my merry way. That ain't happening any more. It kinda makes me laugh looking back.

  As I've said more than once or twice, there are things that I've managed to get into and out of that no one but me and one or two others will ever know about. It's a good thing, too.

 Things I've gotten into and never want to get out of:
My Love and Liz's Love for me. I don't understand a bit of what she sees in me, but it must be good or she'd drop me like a bad habit
All Four of My Children: At the end of the "Cowboys" John Wayne tells the kids "Every man wants his children to grow up to be a better man than he was, all of you are". Years later that's more true to me than it ever was. My kids are more independent by choice, not by simply being left alone. I don't mind that, it's what provided me with the tools to do as I please and be secure in doing that. I'm just glad my kids didn't need that part of being raised that way.
That feeling of Pride when a man looks at things he's had a stake in begins to show that his ideas, work, and prognosis of that project were correct. Man, that's hard to beat, I tell ya.
Making my Run last this long. I'd never thought in 1980 that I'd ever live this long. I fuckin A do NOT want to go now
If I have to die now, I'm hoping I've gotten enough life left to get the dignity part right. I don't want to lie here pissing and moaning about my lot in life
My Lot In Life: Simple. I LOVE IT!!!!! My God, what's not to love about drawing a good, deep breath? Seeing any, ANY sunrise or sunset? Being with friends and family. No, no no. Life is to be relished. Guarded to the max, taken out and played with. Planned and not planned. Go Live, please.

  This is not fun, not one Iota fun. It is, though, part of Life. If it's true what I say, and what people tell me, if I truly do carry Amour De La Vie with in me, I need to embrace this part as well. I'm trying to do just that. It's difficult to find out what to do with this embracing of death to go along with my life.
I get many thanks for helping people find a way. To be more than what I think I am for others. Man, that's a burden for certain. I've taken that burden on as Part Three Quest. I will need help, folks, when I'm a box of ashes hangin out in the liquor cabinet. Many of you are going to have to step up, there's no other way it can work. Officially I am exempting my family. They live this, they've done their part plus. They don't complain, they work at it. They get a pass. If this is important to as many as tell me it is, there won't be any problem fulfilling this portion of the Terminal Velocity Challenge. Family gets a pass, all the rest of you are on the hook. No "Pay it Forward" bull shit, this is something you'll do because it's right, not just to feel good about yourself. They aren't mutually exclusive, but they are a harder nut to crack than "Pay it Forward".

  So there it is.  A bit of blog for your early Saturday Morn. Let's make it a good one, shall we?