A Final Post

Sadly, Robert, the author of this blog, has passed away recently. He and his writings will be missed dearly.

Reunion

When Beans and Barley first opened, I had hired cooks from the local technical school. They were trained and had graduated, so I assumed they knew about food and how to cook. I reviewed the menu with them, gave them the recipes and went over the details of  how I wanted the food presented. Since I wasn’t a cook I figured they’d cook like my mom (she was a great cook) and we’d have good food. We had a great opening during the first few months with hundreds of customers visiting the restaurant, but unfortunately, just as many complaints. After so many burnt and undercooked items and just poor food quality, I initiated new controls.  It was too late, the damage had been done. Business dwindled to a snail’s pace.

At this point I figured I couldn’t do any worse than these “cooks”. I fired all of them and decided to step into the kitchen and cook. With no practical cooking knowledge behind me it became a new learning experience. I had to do numerous jobs. I was host, waiter, cook, and bottle washer. Business was so bad I couldn’t hire anyone else except another server. The first thing I learned was how to “cook clean” and the second was not to burn any pots. Since I was host and waiter, I’d greet the customer, take their jacket or coat, seat them and hand them the menu. Then I would take their order, place it in the kitchen and come back with their beverage. Next, I’d take my jacket off, tuck my tie into my shirt, put on an apron and begin to cook the meal. I had to cook without spilling anything, otherwise it would show up when I re-entered the restaurant with the customer’s meal. Also, there was less to clean up at the end of the night. The same went for the pots. I spent many an hour laboring over burnt food at the bottom of a pot. Time I could have spent sleeping. My hours were long. Usually 6:00 am till 1:00 or 2:00am.

My palate was sharp, so I knew good food when I tasted it. Some recipes were puzzling to me. They didn’t seem to have the right ingredients or amounts listed. I began more and more to rely on my feelings about the food, than what the recipe said. I came to the conclusion one day when I asked myself “who taught the first cook?” that relying on my feelings was a much better approach. I would be cooking and think “something’s missing?” I’d throw the thought out and wait for an answer to come back to me. It always did. My cooking skills continued to improve daily.

I was twenty-two when I started this venture, with more guts than brains. My parents had refused to visit the restaurant, because they had other plans for my career. I was just doing what I felt and I had a lot of opposition. But, things in the restaurant continued to improve, slowly but surely. Actually to the point that one of our customers went into my dad’s office and said “you must be so proud of your son to have such a great restaurant”. Dad had never been in Beans and Barley, but that comment opened the door. He came to visit me and told me the story. We hadn’t had communication in over five years. It was soon afterwards that both my parents came to visit and have a meal.

Aren’t We Just Our Own Worst Enemy?

 

We have our life. We live it. It’s ours. We claim it and we hold it dear. We think it’s ‘right’ or ‘just’ or ‘believable’, maybe even ‘memorable’. But we hold it hostage to ‘change’.

We hear things, see things, and even know things, but still we hold back from transforming into who we truly are. Why can’t we be like a flower that grows, a bee that makes honey, or a sea that ebbs and flows? Having the ‘knowing’ that lifts us to where we should be.

We live our life in an endless treadmill of mediocrity without purpose while our minds eat us up on all levels.

Our purpose here is to have some form of purpose. If you can’t think of any purpose you were here for, you must choose something that takes your mind away from ‘yourself’.

Don’t make it difficult. It can be as simple as saying “My purpose is to love as much as I can”.

Something this simple will change you and the world.

We are all here to carry out some purpose. Stop thinking about ‘yourself’ and ‘your life’, your problems’, etc… ‘Yourself’ will always be there.

Your ‘love’ is what is truly needed.

 

The Restaurant that Hubris Built (Part 2)

Part of ‘Hubris’ is idealism and arrogance. When mixed with ego and people it transforms itself into a snake that hides and slyly slithers through the thoughts in your mind waiting for an opportunity to reveal itself and its superiority. By using its forked tongue, and its body, it slowly seduces and strangles any resistance from outside interference to that ‘all knowingness’ you have. And it’s only when you look back on ‘life’s lessons’ that you can eventually acknowledge its presence and finally eliminate that arrogance and the hell it created for yourself and others.

Early interior of Beans and Barley with staff member Gary Prince. I didn’t want to sell beans in a restaurant with four plain walls. I felt the interior of the restaurant should complement the product. For its time in the early 70s, there was nothing like it in the city. The press back chairs, needing constant repairs, were eventually phased out for more comfortable seating.

The Alcove above.

Both Greg and I had reached a pinnacle with the restaurants. Greg was busy with construction plans and putting the new restaurant together as best he knew how and I was in a downward spiral of self-contempt, guilt and remorse on an inner level. This led to a separation of verbal and physical contact between the two of us. Not a good idea when putting a restaurant together.

Neither one of us recognized our limitations. Lots of arrogance here. I should have stepped up more with regards to the renovations of the new Beans and Barley. I was used to renovations of buildings and construction. I had drawn my own plans and helped build my original restaurant and designed and drawn the blueprints for the solar green house and helped build that project also. Although this project was larger and more detailed than anything I had done before, I wasn’t consulted on any of the layout, construction materials or details. We could have saved a lot of time and money.

Greg on the other hand seemed to relish his bullheadedness as he plowed through making his dream into fruition. It was hard to separate the idealism from the ego and reality. Since this was going to be a franchise there should have been some restrictions in place, but no agreement was ever put together. There were no caps on anything, including spending.

Cost overruns from changes, delays and misunderstandings led to more financing being required. I wasn’t consulted on any of these arrangements. Greg ended up getting family/relative investors and another bank loan, all wanting a piece of the pie, with instructions on how it was to be made.

But in the end, the new restaurant finally opened. There was no soft opening, so it went through ups and downs during its initial few days. I offered to help in the kitchen during one of these subsequential days. It was a trying experience to say the least. ‘Big egos’ were everywhere, and not one of them, even slightly considered me knowledgeable with the goings on. I was ignored, made to feel as an enemy combatant and off cast. What an unfitting reward I thought, for my idea, concept, and ten years of experience with the original restaurant. In the three and half years that it stayed open, I went back twice with my mother, and we signed the bill for our meals that we ate there. It was the only repayment either of us ever received during those years on our $175,000. investment.

‘Pride cometh before a fall’ is brought to mind when I think back on the construction of the second restaurant. Pride can be an expanding or contracting force, but when used as part of hubris (expanding) it has the ability to destroy, and when mixed with the timing of the Universe, man’s plans, usually play second fiddle. These elements coinciding together, turn into contraction and that’s what takes center stage.

When the new Beans and Barley opened with its expanded size and capacity, a lot of our clients and patrons for the original Beans and Barley, thought I had closed. Our sales plummeted. Everyone wanted to see and try out the ‘new’ Beans and Barley. And it was beautiful! That dream had come to fruition, but my conundrum and meltdown were well underway.

With sales a third or less than what we were taking in previously, it became difficult to service my overhead and other expenses. Also, happening at the same time, was a major downturn in the economy. Inflation was at 12.5% and interest rates were moving up constantly, eventually resting on over 20%. The economy in Alberta was majorly based on oil revenues, but when the oil economy tanked in the early 80’s, so did revenue for the province and its population. Less money to spend for everyone. This time period was when the new restaurant was getting ready to open. Greg had run out of money from construction costs at this time, but he managed to secure a loan from a new bank looking for customers. It saved the project, but the interest rate was floating and eventually climbed to 25%. He also secured a line of credit from a friend, for food and supplies, and the doors were opened.

We were both facing uncomfortable truths about the project and ourselves. In front of us was the fear of the unknown and the discomfort of confronting deep-seated beliefs and the pain we’d feel, from letting go of long-held illusions. It would be overwhelming. Who would we be without our project to define us? To be unplugged left us prisoners of the illusions of our mind and this would last years. Eventually we became ready to face the chaos of the real world, where our perceptions, beliefs, and identities would be reexamined. Perhaps, a new beginning without arrogance and hubris.

The Restaurant that Hubris Built (Part 1)

Hubris – Overbearing pride or presumption.

It begins with a dream.

The second Beans and Barley Restaurant. The main dining room with stairway leading to the mezzanine floor – ‘Heaven’.

Tables nestled beside an indoor pond and waterfall.

The dream takes you into an inner realm where you imagine a worldly pinnacle, of your own creation to prove your worth and show to the world a creation never seen before. It becomes your purpose, an insatiable desire driven by passion, all with the promise of success. Behind it all is emotions. Emotions are teachers, and when checked there is growth, but unchecked, there is contraction. Contraction that becomes the vices of our ego that lead us into hubris. And, so it was, when the dream of a second restaurant consumed me in the late 1970s and early 1980s, forty-five years ago.

Blueprints for the second Beans & Barley (Old Strathcona) 1980

I already had a successful restaurant in Edmonton and a thriving farm and solar green house with plans for a resort style retreat and sanctuary on the same 640 acres. It was just sixty miles away.

The farm and solar greenhouse.

It began on an earlier trip to Los Angeles. My sightseeing had taken me to the Bonaventure Hotel and the New Otani Hotel with it’s Japanese Garden, in Japan Town. The lobby of the Bonaventure with its calming water feature surrounding guest areas, and The Otani, with its waterfall and gardens were the two sparks that inspired and planted the seeds of a theme in my mind, for a second restaurant: a franchise. They took root deep inside me until time released their energy a few years later.

The waterfall from the Japanese garden at The New Otani Hotel.

The water feature in the Bonaventure Hotel in Los Angeles.

The catalyst that released this energy was one of the staff that worked with me in my original restaurant, Beans and Barley. His name was Greg. The restaurant was very successful at the time. Changes I experienced during a period of discovery and a spiritual awakening, seemed to transfer into the immediate restaurant and its surroundings. This small sized restaurant (45 seats on two floors) with its intimacy, originality, unique food and service, drew people who were searching for meaning and truth in their own lives. That’s what made it feel almost temple like. It was full of a ‘wellbeing feeling’. People entered in one state of mind, only to leave afterwards noticeably changed. After all, it was the 70s. Another part of the successfulness was because of the staff. We were all a tight knit family with the same energy, all pulling in the same direction. We were happy.

Greg had worked previously in the restaurant part-time, as a server but left after he made enough in savings to take him on a personal journey around the globe. He returned to work in the restaurant again, after his trip. He worked with me cooking, in the kitchen, and as a server, on the floor. At the time, I was looking for a way forward with my dream and a second restaurant. Also, someone to work with on the idea. Greg had lots of energy, some street smarts (from travelling) and an insatiable enthusiasm and curiosity about the business. He questioned me incessantly and we formed a bond of mutual cooperation and understanding. When I mentioned my desire to do a second restaurant, he latched onto the idea with an innate passion. It was his inner quest, dream and desire also, to create something that had quantifiable value.

I showed Greg all the physical workings of the restaurant. What I couldn’t show him was the first seven years of struggle it took to get to the success the restaurant was experiencing at the time, or the inner lessons about life that I had learned along the way. I wanted him to know that anything was possible as long as you had belief. And the belief was measured. A little belief equaled little results. A lot of belief equaled a lot of results. The restaurant and I were an example.

During the period of putting things together and as we worked in collaboration on the dream, the usual obstacles raised their unruly heads. There were the pessimists and opinions from family and friends, objections from relatives, haters and society itself, for not staying with the status quo. And there were the emotions: fear, doubt and guilt. The worst however was the ‘ego’. His and mine. Like riding out a ‘rogue wave’, forces beyond our control compelled us through drownings that even we couldn’t be saved from.

Another view of the ‘Stairway to Heaven’ in the restaurant.

Simplicity was the building block that made Beans and Barley successful. The menu was made up of nine entree items. The entree you chose – steaks, seafood, chicken, pork or vegetarian – was the price of your meal. It came with your choice of soup (we had three) or side salad. Then you chose from four categories to go with your entree. The selection of house made beans had five choices, as did the type of thick sliced house made breads, and then finally, the type of vegetable, which allowed you to choose from four different sauces. Desserts cost extra. The wide selection of choices is what made us unique and the patrons happy. This concept would be easy to duplicate in the new restaurant.

The ‘Old Barley Lounge and Bar’ with a River Rock Fireplace at one end.

Stylized Stained Glass by my x-wife depicting ‘The Waterfall’. This wall separated the dining from the lounge.

The variations that occurred later in the menu were ‘improvements’ placed by Greg. As a matter of fact, many variations occurred. Drawing upon his past life experiences on ‘what a restaurant should be’, Greg sought a ‘fine dining upscale experience’ with ‘better service’ for this new restaurant. But the whole idea behind Beans and Barley was ‘simplicity’, and casualness in a peaceful atmosphere, at a reasonable price. His ideas were in direct conflict with the name. However, as a franchise (which in the end never transpired), the name brought great recognition in the city and would more than likely guarantee continued success. It was the ‘veering away’ from the established successes that initiated the beginning of our separation in business and the building and operation of the new restaurant. Greg assumed the new restaurant would be his and his alone. One early lesson I learned was that it is never your restaurant, and you’re not the ‘owner’ until the last bill or investment money or loan is paid.

Through his parents taking a second mortgage on their home, and Greg making the payments, he secured his financing. I put in $75,000 and my mother (at my behest) put in $100,000. The project was large as were the premises: 10,000 sq. ft. Were the premises too large? Only if your belief was too small. It would take frugal accounting, a background in resourceful planning and a penchant for securing the needed materials at a reasonable price. Too many missteps would scuttle the project. And this is what happened. Mistakes, cost overruns and listening to the wrong people led to a project needing more financing.

During the process, other relatives/friends invested, and multiple bank loans were obtained. The restaurant would seat 120, the bar, 60 guests, and there was an upstairs banquet room with a separate entrance. It would cost approximately $1.2 million or $4.5 million in today’s dollars. We chose a reputable architect firm in the city, and one of the architects, travelled to L.A. with us to see the concept that was envisioned.

The premises chosen for the new restaurant: The deserted Canada Dry Bottling Plant above, with beginning construction.

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Inside main bottling plant.

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This was the service area for the Canada Dry delivery trucks. In the middle would be the front entrance with a bridge over a water feature that led into the restaurant, the bar and a customer waiting area.

Beginning of renovations to the bar area.

Greg’s energy at this time was in overdrive. I had suggested the contractor that had done the basement area in the original Beans and Barley. He knew fine wood carpentry and even made the tables and chairs in the basement dining area. After reviewing the blueprints, he came back with an estimate of $150,000. Even if his estimate had turned out low and it doubled or even tripled, we would have been way better off accepting his offer. Somehow, Greg was enthralled with a contractor from Ottawa and his portfolio “that had the look” he wanted, at a substantially higher estimate. Of special concern to Greg at the time were two heavy hewed wooden beam doors (that were in Ottawa, 3000 miles away) which he wanted for the front entrance. Ceiling beams from a barn in Ottawa and the staircase from Ottawa used in the bar, were also an example of spending losses. If I had been asked, I knew of another barn in Edmonton from the 1800s with the beams and doors just a few miles from the one I tore down for the original Beans and Barley. In the end, and not listening to me, Greg chose the Ottawa contractor, who ended up needing legal stimulation, in order to finish the project.

During this period, I, myself was going through a major transition in my life… part of the ‘rogue storm’, or should I say ‘our egos’ that would eventually sink both of our businesses. I decided to strip away the lie I had been living. I came out as gay. I was married at the time and that fact alone in those years where it wasn’t accepted, especially in a red-necked city, made the transition tumultuous. Friends I’d known for 15 years or more, wouldn’t talk to me, or if they saw me on the street would cross to the other side so as not to have to address me. My pristine reputation as the owner of Beans and Barley tanked along with any respect I had previously garnered. My self-esteem suffered immensely. All of a sudden, any suggestions or ideas I verbalized were discarded with distrust. I especially felt this when I would visit the construction site. Because I had lived a lie, and told that lie, now going forward, everything I uttered, should be considered as a lie.

This period which spanned a few years is best described in the following excerpt from a song in a musical I wrote: The name ‘Richard’ represented myself in the musical. ‘Dale’, also a pseudo name, was my first gay personal endeavor. “Shadow Spirit’ is Richard’s inner guide. ‘The Tribesmen’ represent outside forces and ‘control’. ‘Temptress’ represents temptations in life.

PAIN IN THE GLASS

RICHARD

EACH DAY

SEQUESTERED BEHIND THIS WINDOWPANE

LOOKING FOR A RE-PLAY

I WANT TO STEP BACK

AND RECOLLECT

BUT I CAN’T IGNORE

THIS GLASS

A REFLECTION OF MY PAST

AND THE LIES I AMASSED

  I FEEL SHAME AND REMORSE FOR THE PAIN

—FROM SELF LOATHING

AND BEING—

A SHEEP IN WOLF’S CLOTHING

I CONFRONT A SECOND BARRIER—

—FROM FRIENDS

LIKE I’M A VERIFIED PLAGUE CARRIER

—ITS DISTRUST, LOATHING AND RESENTMENT

ROBBING ME OF ANY CONTENTMENT

AND NOTHING I DO, MAKES ME SATISFIED

—I’M BEYOND MYSTIFIED

AND INSIDE I’VE DIED

dissolve to:

int. FLASHBACK overlay IN RICHARD’S MIND – LAST TWO YEARS – quick cuts

continued:

A downward spiral of signing divorce papers, an encroaching business recession from plummeting oil prices, losing the restaurant, the farm, twenty year friends, moving, constant arguing with Dale, that leads to physical fights wherever they are; home . . . smashing through a glass coffee table; slugging each other in the car; or out at a bar, being thrown out by the bouncer, concluding in Richard packing up and leaving Dale.

RICHARD (V.O.) (cont’d)

WHAT I THOUGHT I KNEW, I DIDN’T

AND A CRASH COURSE ON HOW TO BE GAY

ONLY LED ME MORE ASTRAY

AND MADE ME HATE WHAT I THOUGHT I WANTED,

A LIVING, BREATHING DOOMSDAY

NOW, ALL I REALLY NEED— IS TO LOSE THE STRUGGLE

FROM ALL MY TROUBLES

WE SEE RICHARD approach the glass windowpane.

RICHARD (cont’d)

AM I TOO CLOSE . . .

. . . TO SEE THE ANSWER?

CAN I BYPASS THE GLASS?

NOT HIDE?

ALL I ASK

IS TO BE RECONCILED

WITH MY PAST

MUSIC from Flight of the Bumble Bee plays, and RICHARD, like a fly on a window, does a frenetic dance in which he acts out manic expressions of hopelessness against the glass, wanting a replay of his past life.

SHADOW SPIRIT appears on the other side of the windowpane to help RICHARD. SHADOW SPIRIT joins RICHARD and SINGS.

SHADOW SPIRIT

RICHARD, LET ME SHOW YOU WHAT I KNOW

SHADOW SPIRIT, wanting to inspire RICHARD forward, shows a vision of a morning sunrise welling up between the glass windowpanes.

continued:

BEN from THE TRIBESMEN appears. He steps up to the glass and darkens it so as to obscure what SHADOW SPIRIT is showing Richard. SHADOW SPIRIT pushes BEN away, restoring her sunrise vision.

SHADOW SPIRIT (cont’d)

DO NOT BE DISTRACTED BY BEN’S DARK SIDE

LEARN TO TRUST YOUR INNER GUIDE

RELINQUISH YOUR PITY AND SELFISH PRIDE

TAKE A STEP BACK

CLOSE ON RICHARD as he steps back from the glass pane. Behind RICHARD there is a table filled with pill bottles that SHADOW SPIRIT can see.

SHADOW SPIRIT (cont’d)

DON’T MEDICATE—

ACCEPT YOUR FATE

YOU’RE NOT STRAIGHT!

ELIMINATE THE STRUGGLE

DON’T BE BOUND BY THIS PUZZLE

RICHARD stops and looks at the glass as if it’s a mirror, trying to see inside himself.

SHADOW SPIRIT points to an open door behind RICHARD, which he then turns to notice.

SHADOW SPIRIT (cont’d)

THAT OPEN DOOR IS YOUR SOLUTION

AND LOVE . . . YOUR ABSOLUTION

CAST OUT THE OLD, IT IS MOLD

EMBRACE THE NEW, LIKE MORNING DEW

Flight of the Bumble Bee plays again as RICHARD does another manic dance of hopelessness, in which he bounces back, off the glass.

SHADOW SPIRIT (cont’d)

GOING AGAINST THIS PANE IS FUTILE

MAKE YOUR LIFE WORTHWHILE

TRUST YOUR INTUITION

DON’T LET THE EMOTION

RE-STIR YOUR WAR INSIDE

continued:

SHADOW SPIRIT (cont’d)

OR CLOUD YOUR EYES

IT’S THE SOLUTION

TO YOUR IDENTITY THAT IS WISE

RICHARD (cont’d)

BUT I CAN SEE TO THE OTHER SIDE

DON’T YOU THINK THIS IS JUSTIFIED?

IT’S MY JOURNEY, FROM UNLOVEABLE

TO GENUINE, FROM BEING COUNTERFEIT

TO AUTHENTIC

WITH ALL MY HEART

AND IN MY HUMILITY,

I ACCEPT ALL RESPONSIBILITY

Music from Flight of the Bumble Bee plays again. Confused, RICHARD makes one more attempt to get through the glass pane, but collapses to the floor out of breath and motionless.

The TRIBESMEN and TEMPTRESS outside, dance mockingly.

SHADOW SPIRIT (cont’d)

IT’S THE JOURNEY

THAT GIVES THE ANSWERS

TRUST YOUR INTUITION

DURING THIS TRANSITION

YOUR DESTINATION, ISN’T SUPPOSITION

YOU SHOULD GIVE IN, TO KNOWING, ACCEPTANCE AND ADMISSION

SHADOW SPIRIT, SINGING, taps on the glass.

SHADOW SPIRIT (cont’d)

THIS GLASS IS A LENS

USE FOCUS,

SEE THE SOLUTION

AS YOUR RESOLUTION

RICHARD looks up from the floor.

RICHARD (cont’d)

THEN I ASK

PLEASE HELP ME WITH MY TASK

I WAS DEAD, AND I DIDN’T KNOW IT!

(Eberhard): ” You looked at me with your eyes wide open, steeped in ocean blue, and all I felt from them was “HELP ME! HELP ME!”. You were unconscious.

This happened early morning, Wednesday, June 5th, 2024, and although I have little or no memory of the event, I’ll relate it back to you as Eberhard told it to me.

Eberhard and I had finished our breakfasts, and he went to shower first, while I tidied up. With Eberhard finished in the shower, I started mine. It was only a short time into my shower, when Eberhard heard a ‘dull thud’ and went to see what happened. The shower door was open with the water running, and I lay on the floor in a contorted position. Eberhard turned off the shower, picked my head up the floor and tried to make me conscious. Without any luck, he rested my head on a towel and went for my nitroglycerine tablets and a phone. He gave me two, turned me onto my back and began CPR. He called 911. He kept blowing air into my lungs and compressing my chest until the medics arrived about 10 minutes later. I was still not responsive. The medics lifted the shower door assembly out and moved me to the floor in the bedroom. At this point the medics told Eberhard that I had no pulse. They asked him, “Do you want to resuscitate him?” With an affirmative, they placed a chest compression machine on my chest that reached around the sides of my body, intubated me and prepared my chest for ‘the paddles’. CLEAR! CLEAR! CLEAR!

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My heart restarted! It was weak!

They put me on a canvas stretcher and carried me downstairs to the ambulance and whisked me away to Desert Regional Hospital. Eberhard followed. When Eberhard arrived at Emergency, he was told that the Doctors were still working on me. An hour passed, maybe more. Finally, the nurse came out, “He’s stable, but he’s on a ventilator, completely sedated, intubated, but alive”. “We’re waiting on an ICU bed.” At the same time, a doctor approached Eberhard, “He’s alive, but we won’t be able to tell his prognosis on brain damage and if the CPR helped for at least the next 12 – 24 hours. Only time will tell. He was without oxygen for a long time. It’s a waiting game.” “Go home and notify your friends. Come back later and check in on him.”

(Eberhard at home): The reality hit hard, and I might lose him. There was no knowing what kind of brain damage there’d be or if it could or would happen. I cried. I didn’t want to lose him.

It wasn’t long though before my sensibilities took hold and I contacted as many people as I could, whomever Robert meant to most, and then I began to think of our happier times together.

We had made dinner arrangements for friends this very night and I phoned them to cancel. Turned out, they went to a Firebird’s game at Acrisure Arena the previous evening and contacted COVID. and wouldn’t be able to make it.

The next morning, I went back to the hospital and the doctor said that his state had improved somewhat as he slowly stabilized overnight. I joined Robert in his room and sat next to him, holding his hand. The doctor arrived again and said they were going to remove the propofol and the fentanyl drip and take out the intubation tube, to see if he could breathe on his own. Robert had started to respond to commands of ‘wiggle your toes’ and move your fingers’. They continued to dial down his medication to help him breathe on his own. They asked me to leave the room while this procedure was being done as it can be unpleasant.

When I returned, I took up my position next to Robert, holding his hand and telling him “I love you”. Each time I told him I loved him, there was an ever so lightly a squeeze from Robert’s fingers on my hand. The doctor said to Eberhard that I was breathing on my own, he was more optimistic, but still didn’t know how much brain damage there would be.

The next day, Thursday, the doctor said that there had been more movement with my body parts, I was still making progress and that I was not paralyzed. On Friday, I was still improving, and I could say small sentences, even though some sounded like gobblie gook. Overall, I was still a lifeless mess. The Doctor reviewing my previous admissions told Eberhard that there had been damage to the heart muscle (scaring) and this had disrupted the nerves in the heart. An aneurism had formed which threw off the electrical pulses in my heart. A defibrillator would-be required to stabilize the heart going forward. A speech therapist was called in to evaluate how my throat was recovering, and they decided to keep me on mushy foods and thickened liquids, because I was choking on basic water. That afternoon, they decided I could be moved out of ICU into the telemetry ward where all my vitals would constantly be monitored.

The previous two or three days were difficult for the staff and Eberhard. I wanted to get out of bed on my own, but I wasn’t strong enough and also, I was not lucid enough to reason with. Eberhard said, I would fight him, kick him, if possible, and the nurses had a hard time keeping me in the bed, until at one point they tied me to the bed.

The next morning Saturday, I was taken to a procedure room where Dr. Bhakta installed a cardio defibrillator. Everything went well, but I was a tyrant. I was more lucid, not that my lucidity made my actions correct. All I wanted was to have my tubes and electrodes, IVs, nose tubes and anything else that was pinned on me or pinned to me, or to my bed, removed. And if the nurses weren’t going to do it, I was. I was not cognizant to reason with. This went on for a few days, until Tuesday and they took me for an EEG an electroencephalogram, to read my brain function.

I’m sure it was a surprise to many, but by brain function came back normal, even though I couldn’t answer basic questions like, “What city are you in? What year is it? The neurologist also asked basic questions like “Raise your right hand”, Wiggle your left toes”, which I passed. It was on Wednesday however, when Eberhard entered the room and I said to him, “Hi Honey, come here and give me a hug!” I began to ask many questions even though afterwards I would ask some of the same questions, because I had forgotten that I asked them in the first place. After another evaluation, a therapist re-evaluated me and said I was continuing to improve, but rec-commended being taken to a skilled nursing re-habitation facility for my final jaunt.

I guess I had hit the revolving door on my exit this time. I missed the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’, ‘seeing old family and friends that had passed previously’, missed the second exit to damnation, and I was thrown back on this plane to finish what I haven’t done so far. I can handle that. There are a few things I’d still like to get done.

Just before I left, Bruce, John, Michaeal and Joe came to visit me as Eberhard had called them and said I was able to see visitors. By Friday, I was off to Indio and then by Saturday, I was back home again after a doctor released me.

Two Boxes = Forty Years

With only a few hundred dollars in my pocket, a friend put me up for my first two weeks after I arrived in L.A in 1984. I was 35.

Before this, I had made myself a millionaire by age 27, was married, owned major property, had a creatively inspired unique restaurant, a solar greenhouse, plus numerous other endeavors in the works. I was admired, popular and well liked. But I had been hiding my true personality. I was gay. When my real personality finally raised its fiery dragon head for freedom, in a red necked city in the early 80s, where friends I’d known for twenty years refused to acknowledge me, I dive crashed.

One scorched earth experience followed another as I burned out any love, I had made for myself. It wasn’t pretty. I reached rock bottom and couldn’t accept myself. I hid from public for over a year, and I resented everything about coming out. In the end, with nothing to lose and winter approaching, (it was September) I packed up the few clothes I had left and headed south. I told myself, I wasn’t going to stop until I felt warmth. The coldness of life had taken a toll on me.

I arrived just after the Olympics, and Los Angeles was warm. It was the first warmth of any kind I had felt in the last three years, and it was from the sun. It felt so, so good.

Reality set in quickly though, and the friend I was staying with, soon let me know, that my staying there, was coming to an end. I called another friend back home and he agreed to purchase the last of anything I owned and wired $2500. to me. With that money I was able to get a cheap one room studio at the newly renovated Dicksbourgh, on Beverly Boulevard for $450.00/month, with $900.00 down for security and last month’s rent. The room had a murphy bed, sink, bathroom and ceiling fan. I had to buy a small used bar fridge, hot plate, sheets, pillow and towels to finish it off. I was a block away from Vermont Boulevard and the evenings were filled with unending road noise, helicopter fly overs with search lights, police sirens and gunshots. But I was excited to begin a new chapter in my life.

It was a few months after my move-in, when I had a lucid dream that felt so real, I felt it programmed itself into my DNA.

I was riding a horse beside another unknown rider. The horses were thin and weak; one pale brown, and the second a darker brown. We were driving a small herd of cattle through a desert. Small tufts of grass were visible that the cattle tried to eat. Weak cattle showed skeleton outlines of their bones underneath their hides.

As we rode through the desert, the view became increasingly desolate. There was blowing sand, the grass disappeared and the color of everything became a bleak dull brown. The further we rode into the desert, the more the cattle and horses lost weight. So much so, that the bones of the cattle started to protrude through their hides. Some cattle collapsed and died.

Then, out of nowhere, we came to a fence with a glowing pristine white gate. I looked across to the other side, but the blowing sand and desolate view was the same. Then, from the silence came a strong definitive voice. “Come in, there is plenty here”. As soon as the voice stopped, the gate slowly opened.  I took another look into the desolation ahead, and then turned to the other non-descript rider and said, “Well, we may as well go ahead. It can’t be any worse than what we’ve been through”.

We began to move the cattle forward. Bits of grass became visible and began growing from the barren sand. The amount of grass increased as the cattle crossed the fence line. The horses and the remaining cattle began to eat and slowly regained their normal weights. While the grass continued to grow, the bleak brown color disappeared over time and slowly morphed from a sandy green, into a bright emerald green. The grass grew so much that the animals disappeared from sight, and from the rider’s view, all you could see was movement in the grass.

That dream was close to forty years ago, and at the time, I thought I’d just look for the ‘white gate’ and things would fall into place. After having lost everything at home, I was hell bent on reclaiming the life I had before. I got a job within a week that I could walk to, and I put an application in for a green card as my mother was American. The green card took over four years to acquire.

This brings me to the two boxes. As I began sifting through the contents of each modern-day time capsule, I realized a pattern akin to the dream. I felt and could see the dream sequence unfolding before my eyes. These were the desert years, and I didn’t even realize I was in a desert. I guess the thing that prevented me from seeing I was in a desert was that I loved the work I was doing. And the second thing that saved me during this period was my naivete.

Those two boxes were filled with memories. Each time I received a card, be it birthday, Holiday, bereavement, letters, get well or for any unusual circumstance, it went into the boxes. There were thousands. This was mostly before computers, emails, text messages and social media took away meaningful heartfelt communication, and the magic that matched the element it was written on. The letters were long and there were ‘feelings’ you could read between the lines. The cards depicted the message sent and heightened it’s meaning. There were also thousands of photographs, mementos, airline ticket receipts and even my stamp collection from the ’50s, which I had completely forgotten.

I took the time to re-read all of the letters and cards twice. And, as I finally threw them away, I felt different. Negative and painful memories, regrets and actions I wish I had done differently, were purged in a very rapid way. Beautiful memories were imbedded. But it was, overall, a freeing experience. The photographs of which there were numerous duplicates, I’m scanning and uploading into the cloud and placing on a memory stick with notes.

During this period, I discovered I lived in at least ten different locations, according to addresses I found on the envelopes. Most of these before the year 2010. I do remember working all the time and getting deathly ill a few times where I went down to 120 pounds in weight. I worked to survive. It was endless struggle. Many of the cards and letters were from friends who have passed. Some natural causes, some from AIDS (many regrets there) and some from suicide. That realization alone makes you look at life differently. Personal cards and letters from family brought tears to my eyes, as I realized hidden messages, concerns and caring I had missed.

Even through these desert times however, I was generous with my time, feelings and what money I did have with others, maybe too kind, too trusting and because of this I was taken advantage of many times. Especially in the relationships I encountered. Lessons. Serious life lessons. An introduction and journey into the seven vices of man on any and every level. Some of these memories I will talk about later.

Did I come to the ‘white’ gate? Not physically, but I do know I’m on the other side of that gate. The grass is green and it’s starting to grow.

When Did We Stop Caring?

With our Bodies?

We are given one body at birth. It is temporary. It will leave us one day. In-between these parameters are the choices we impose on it. With every choice, there is always a balance, a cause and effect. The thoughts we think, the food we eat, the emotions we accept or reject. Everything is inter-connected, and all of this inter-connectedness is some form of energy. This is not philosophy, it is physics. So, when we look in the mirror, the reflection of what we see is a combination of all of these factors, expressed as energy. What is your energy level? Does your energy expand and radiate, or does it constrict and contract?

Can you change your energy level?

Yes.

How?

By infusing everything you do with some form of love, the ultimate energy. It will raise your vibration level. You will be giving, instead of receiving. It’s not difficult. You only have to consciously think about giving everything you do the feeling of love.

With Our Fellow Humans?

This one is not easy. Even at birth, we already have the energy level given to us by our parents. We are thrown into the world with a frequency level that matches our surroundings. ‘Likes’, attract. We are placed on a trajectory level that matches our best possible soul growth. It’s our free will and choices that direct us to that goal. Fortunately, we are given obstacles to overcome. Those obstacles become our lessons in life. If we don’t learn the lesson, we usually have to repeat it until we succeed or we give up…a contraction of energy. And every human on the planet is bound by the same Universal Laws. So, when we encounter other human beings, they may be on a different frequency, or they match our own. Energies constantly change, and that is why people move in and out of our lives, or why we’re attracted to some people and not others.

When we run into energies that are contracted or limited, we can split the scene with a loving thought or, be non-reactive with our emotions. Some contractions are so negative it is not prudent to waste energy on the moment.

So, to answer the question, we get sidetracked and begin to give too much credence to our own identities, and our need for greed. The almighty cash cow has become our god. We put our energies into taking everything that is temporary and yet, will eventually be taken from us, in one way or another.

We can take a look in the mirror again and it will tell us truthfully where we stand. The finger we use to point to others is only pointing back at us.

With Our Planet?

You’ve heard it said that there is either order or chaos in our world of form. Man does not mix well with nature. He doesn’t know how to balance himself. Any imbalance he creates shows up as an imbalance in nature and all things in the universe are interdependent.

All energies are connected in one way or another and governed again by Universal Laws. So, are we naive enough to think that our actions on the way we treat Nature is not going to come back and haunt us in some form?

Look around. We did this! We are to blame.

Will it get better or worse?

Don’t kid yourself, things will get worse.

What Will It Take for Us to Change?

Do we have to be with our last breath on the precipice into the kingdom we champion before we realize that moment ‘to care’ is now?

Raise your energy!!

Care!

Rodeo of Heart Attacks

This was my fourth heart attack, August 21st, 2023. My first one, in 2002, was a Tripple Bypass (now referred to as CABAG (Pronounced cabbage) or Coronary Artery Bypass Grafting. They removed two veins from my leg and replaced two failed arteries. A third unfoiled artery was grafted to my heart. My second heart attack in 2019 was because, one of the veins used from my leg, had failed and they inserted a stent to open up the flow of blood. Then in 2021 I had my third heart attack, where there was only slight damage. The angiogram on this latest heart attack revealed both veins and the stent had failed, but the third unfoiled artery was intact and would last till my last day. There was light damage done, but the heart in its wisdom, actually, over time, grew ‘new’ capillary arteries to replace the failed leg vein arteries. Removing or cleaning out the failed arteries was deemed too dangerous for numerous reasons, including blood clots. Going forward, medication would be used to stabilize the heart.

At this point I’d like to thank Dr. Louie (2002), Dr. Kazmouz (2019 & 2021), Dr. Sherman (2023) and Desert Regional Medical Hospital, paramedics, nurses and staff for saving my life each and every time. Also, Eberhard, my husband, for his love and compassion, quick thinking, quick reactions and astute knowledge of my condition each and every time. I wouldn’t be here if not for all of them.

Which brings to me, the idea, that some thing or force out there wants to get rid of me, lol. On the other hand, I’m thinking, maybe there is more to do before I leave this realm.

It was just after lunch, and I had brought the last of the laundry upstairs. I noticed a ‘familiar burn’ in my chest. To be safe I thought I’d rest for a bit before continuing with chores. As I rested, I noticed ‘the burn’ was not subsiding. As a matter of fact, it was increasing in painfulness. I retrieved my prescription nitroglycerine and took one pill. I waited. I’m thinking to myself, “this can’t be happening now, we leave this Wednesday for Europe”. The burn subsided but did not entirely go away. I took it easy for the rest of the afternoon, with the lingering burn, and at 5pm we sat to watch the news and then made dinner.

As I got up from dinner, I felt major lightheadedness. I grabbed the chair to steady myself. The pain in my chest went from a 2 to plus 10 and there was that all too familiar tingling running up my left arm. On top of that I couldn’t breathe. The elephant in the room came and sat on my chest. Eberhard noticed the change right away. He helped me to the bedroom, made me lie down and promptly gave me a nitroglycerine pill. He called 911 and immediately I heard sirens in the distance. It only took them one and half minutes to get there.

I remember slipping out of consciousness. Don’t know for how long, maybe seconds, or where I went, but I could feel my identity being stripped from me. I felt I was nothing, and, totally empty. No possessions, no emotions, to attach feeling to. And then, there was a flow of consciousness of past life memories, but only memories of giving or receiving love. Attached was a realization that the only thing that matters in life is love in whatever form you can produce it. I likened my perspective of what was happening to a divine spiritual experience, except for the excruciating pain I felt surrounding the event.

There’s a light in my eyes. A paramedic is checking for signs of life with a pen flashlight. Many questions are being asked, needles going into my arms, blood samples taken.

Paramedic: “Here take this, now, this now, and another one (nitroglycerine). These are three chewable children’s aspirin. Take them and chew them. A heparin (blood thinner) bag is already attached to me intravenously. They take me downstairs and put me in the ambulance. It’s my first time in an ambulance. Eberhard drove me to the hospital with all my other heart attacks. When we reached the hospital, a doctor approached me immediately and asked; ” On a level of 1-10, what is your pain level”. I replied, “5”. They gave me more nitroglycerine and chewable aspirin. A whole set of monitors were enshrined around me with additional IVs. I was left to stabilize with the doctor checking on me regularly.

By midnight, my stats were stabilized. Dr. Sherman entered the emergency area, reviewed my chart and took an immense amount of time with me to go over what had happened and what would be planned to go forward. I’d have an angiogram in the morning which would reveal any damage and how to proceed from there. They took me to ICU, hooked up my monitors and dispensing machines, and three nurses slid me onto my new bed. They promptly gave me a sponge bath (BTW, I had showered earlier). That was fun. They turned off the lights and I was allowed to sleep, until the next blood test came along. My hands turned into human pin cushions, but the cause was good.

The next morning with shift change, I was given a new nurse, Nick. Super generous with his time and care, he asked if I need anything. I told him “I was cold” (they keep the whole hospital in deep freeze) and in a short while he returned with an extra blanket. As he spread it over me, I could feel it’s warmth. My mind flashed back to when I was kid and during bath time, my mom would take each of us seven kids and wrap us in a warm towel. Such a loving memory. DING, DING, 100 points Nick. Then to my surprise he unfolded a second warm blanket. DING, DING, DING, an extra 200 points!!!

That was the best experience ever!

Road Trip……..day 6, final day

Just north of Barstow on I-15 we pulled off the road to see Calico Ghost Town. It was an old silver mine from the 1800s. There is a few tours you can take that lead you underground (reminds me of Echo Bay Mines at Port Radium, Canada where I worked for five years), and through different mining operations from that time.

From here we headed through the Morongo and Yucca Valleys home. Our total mileage 1554 miles or about 300 miles a  day. We wanted to see as much as we could in the time allotted. Some areas I would definitely return to and spend the whole time in that place. It’s always nice to be home when you get there. Just recognizing another sign of appreciation when you open the door to home.