Getting Goosed

My dad could always make me laugh. No matter when, no matter where, he always had the ability to turn my frown upside down. Corny, but that is how it was. My pop is so amazing that he has the ability to shake me out of myself from the other side……..  

It's been tough going emotionally, kids growing up, relationships changing, dealing with an ever expanding file of bills, obligations and debts. One particular Sunday, the aforementioned emotions became all consuming and almost unbearable.  

Before I go any further, there is something I need to convey…..Anyone who knows me even slightly understands that my appearance is not always of big concern to me. I often get distracted and wander out of the house in clothes that don’t quite match. Often I am in an ensemble that looks like I’m making a statement for the LGBTQ+ community by wearing a rainbow flag. And hair and makeup, on a weekend???

This particular Sunday, I was expecting warm weather (due to having read it was supposed to be in the 70s) but not expecting the funk and black mood. I felt as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders and I no longer had my buddy, my pal, my entertainer to take me out of myself.  I drank some coffee, made breakfast and started to do some chores in the hopes of an attitude readjustment. My attempts were futile - no matter what I did I couldn’t refocus or stop myself from feeling pitiful. It was time to take dramatic action.  I’d not yet seen my dad’s grave and have been putting it off.  I’ve dreaded seeing his name on a cold stone in the ground as that might drive home the point too sharply that he is gone. On this day though I decided to bite the bullet and drive to the cemetery. In usual Joyann Boggio fashion, I put on a pair of very light cotton beach pants, a thin t-shirt without a bra and a pair of flip flops. It looked a bit dreary outside, so as I grabbed my keys I threw on my bright yellow rain slicker, suffering from age and overuse.  I hopped in the car and in my distracted state of being, did not notice that the weather report was far from accurate. If I did notice a chill in the back of my head I attributed this to my mood and the sun being behind a cloud. My mind was more on my problems and the loss of my father. 

I pulled into the cemetery parking lot with tears running down my face. It was at this point I realized I didn’t know exactly where my dad was buried. Just a general idea.  My mom said  “He is buried by a tree”…hmmmm…….a tree in a cemetary…how novel….. As I parked the car in the area that I assumed my dad was buried, it began to rain.  Nonetheless I persisted. I got out of the car (noting for the first time that the chill was a little more pronounced than I anticipated) , opened up the trunk and found, amazingly, an umbrella. This was a good sign. I opened up the umbrella to discover that while, yes, it was an umbrella, it was also a broken umbrella. It did not catch, so it did not stay open.  The rain was now pelting down (this should have been a sign to give it up and try another day, but nooooo) I decided to let the umbrella hug my head as I thought I could look at the ground as that is where graves generally are - no need to look straight ahead. I continued forth in the general direction of where I thought pops was buried, vision obscured with the exception of from my knees down. 

So picture this…rainbow flag outfit, flip flops, tears streaming down my face, umbrella collapsed upon my head, muttering between lines of gravestones (where is my dad, I can’t find my daddy, where in the hell are you dad (probably not there!)).  I bumped into a person who politely asked if I was okay (what a brave stranger you were, you should have ran screaming away!).  I just muttered “I can’t find my dad!!!” and continued on……

Now, in the springtime a funny thing happens with geese. They become horned up and mate.  And because of this they lay eggs. They are mean and spiteful beasties - especially when protecting their young. What I did not see and totally failed to notice, probably due to the umbrella collapsed upon my head was that there was a goose sitting atop some eggs in a nest that was right in front of a headstone. Unfortunately, the goose DID notice me. So I’m walking, crying, snot running down my face, looking pathetic when something charges at me out of seemingly nowhere honking“mwaack! mwacck! mwacck!” chasing me from the graveyard back to my car, wings flapping, and pecking at  my flip flopped feet. I ran like a bat out of hell, dodging tombstones, jumping over grave markers, screaming like a little school girl with the umbrella still about my head. The rain is still pouring down, the other grievers are stifling a laugh but some do have the kindness to look a bit horrified, but I make it to the car. Soaking wet, pecked, but laughing.

As I drove away this all made so much sense to me. I had a thought of my dear dad, sitting up in heaven and my brother sitting next to him. They are on a couch and my dad sees me in this funk pulling into the cemetery. He probably leaned over to Glenn and said “Hey, watch what I’m going to do to Joyann”. Very funny dad, very funny……

Follow your Joy

I've been seeing a consistent sentiment in a number of places lately. All takes on "follow your Joy". It always makes me laugh, as, truth be told my real name is Joy. It has come in handy for many a witty retort - "Its a JOY to meet you" and also a few salacious moments (Here's looking at you high school boys who wore "spread the joy" christmas buttons).  

I got to thinking though... what does "follow your joy" really mean.  It's a bit creepy thinking people are going to literally stalk me, but let's look at it the more wholesome way. If you truly want to follow your joy, why don't you try following my best self?  Here are some tips:

1. Stop thinking everything is a conspiracy against you. Most things just are. Embrace Occam's razor - the simplest explanation is usually the best one. 

2. Hone your critical thinking skills. Hopefully you wouldn't eat a pile of shit if a celebrity or influencer told you it was good for you, why would you listen to them when it comes to your health, your wealth and your views?

3.  Stop assigning traits and values to other people, especially through social media.  How about you have conversations with people and really listen.  I know it's hard, especially with someone you believe is ill-informed, or has a radical, very negative view. But go with me on this one, sometimes by not trying to prove your point, you can find some common ground, or at the very least be a reminder of what resonableness looks like. Remember Proverbs 26:4 (Yea I had to look it up too) "Do not answer a fool according to his folly or you yourself will be just like him"

4. Before you attack someone getting something you won't or someone who doesn't look like you wanting to be embraced by society, ask yourself this question. "WHAT IN THE HELL DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH ME?"  Usually nothing.  Trust me, you'll be fine.

5. Love.  Thats it, just love people. Extend love to everyone everywhere.

6. Gratitude. Be thankful. Most of you who will read this have warm beds, fully tummys and people who love you.  That makes you richer than many.

There is more, but I don't expect follow your joy means eat meals of 1 salami, 2 olives and a pickle or care not for fashion.  Maybe all of this can come down to one basic rule... Just don't be a dick.

Thank you and good day to you!

Absence apparently does make the heart grow fonder or How I remembered that I actually had a blog....

It has been a few years, okay 6, since I've put keyboard to paper.  My partner in rhymes is doing some big things with his writing but I'm sure some day he'll find his way back. 

I'm called today not for a catchup, or to share a point of view, but more of necessity.  It helps, when you don't know who to go to, and you don't really want the kindness of strangers, to share in a fairly anonymous and off the beaten path way.  So I've gathered you all - me, myself and I - to talk about grief.

What a piece of crap thing that is? Amirite? You loose someone dear, you have the rememberances, you celebrate all the firsts, first bday without them, first holiday and so on.  You get to the 2 year mark and you somehow move on with life.  You go 3 years, and while you miss someone so much, you still live your life and revel happily in all the stories that they've left you with.I have a theory that the hole or space that they leave behind is filled with memories, the love they had for you, and a constant filling of "wish they were here" and "they would have loved this".  

So, or Sos as my remaining sibling would say, you move on, you grow, you sometimes remember to cherish where you are, and how you got there.  Moving along just fine...until one day, one week, you are brought to your knees with a heart ache so deep and painful that it makes you feel as if you cannot cope and maybe even cannot breath.  The tears come, the rage, the hopelessness, the utter and debilitating sadness.  Closing your eyes, wishing it all to be a horrible nightmare, and not wanting to open them again because you know, it is real.  

It takes time to shift it, tell yourself this means you were well loved and loved well.  Hearing the voice of your loved one, most likely telling you to get over yourself and get back to life.

I so desparately want to reach out to someone who would understand, who would listen, but who also would only let me lay in my shit for so long before they told me to "knock it off".  The hardest part is the one who would do that....is the one I am grieving for.

So thank you little blog - reading through you today brought back so many good memories, and reminded me of the wonderful friend I have that wrote this with me, and gave me the opportunity to focus my grief and help me, at least in some small part, make it less painful.

Oh and most of the people I know also thank you - they won't have to do deal with this!

The miracle of human contact

It has been several months since the last blog post and in that time there has been a big change for yours truly.  I have switched jobs.  The new opportunity is a terrific one with unbelievable growth potential.  This new path finds me in a different city, with a completely different mode of  transportation, by car.  This greatly cuts down the people I encounter in my commute. 

In my former job I took the train, walked into the city and had many opportunities for social interaction before I even got to my desk.  The train buddies, the homeless people, my walking buddy, the clerks at the store and the building guards all served to give me a little human contact to make the day a bit brighter. 

I knew when I switched jobs that I'd miss all the friendships and contacts I've developed over the years but was fully sure that I would keep in contact with those who became "real" friendships.  While this is certainly true,I had not realized how much I would miss the inconsequential touch points I had through my day.  The engineer that I walked past each morning and shared a wave and a good morning, the train guys who I had 2 minutes of friendly conversation and then we all retreated to our own books, newspapers and videos, the homeless man on the bridge with the toothless grin full of optimism, the homeless guy yelling out "have a blessed day".  All of these people I interacted with, many without even knowing their names, but all giving me a little piece of happiness to get me through the day and be in awe of how great life is.

I've found that I've been a little depressed over the past weeks, a lot of that is due to a severe cold I'm fighting along with my psyche not liking change.  I cannot discount the fact that the lack of social pleasantries, with almost certain strangers, has also played a big part.  I only have one solution for this.  I must walk my new work neighborhood, start to lay down some patterns and habits and come to know the people.  I'm going to start every Wednesday by going to the same coffee shop....then I'll go once a week to the local store and chat people up there, hopefully if I take a walk around lunchtime most days I'll see people that are in the neighborhood.  It's going to be a process but I have found I am one who needs those small social relationships even if others aren't aware we are in them together!

Booooo!

I am most fortunate to live in a neighborhood with large trees (even after the ash borer has done his damage) mature bushes and well maintained yards.  A neighborhood that sees some houses fully decorate for Halloween. How wonderful to take in the sights and enjoy the effort that my neighbors have put into creating a wonderland, some scary some tame, for all to see.  My yard is a muted celebration of Halloween, more Sesame Street than Michael Myers, more Barney than Freddy Krueger.

Most of my neighbors have the same displays every year.  Some build upon it to create fantastic light shows and creepy soundtracks.  There are some neighbors who express their displeasure in some of the displays be it for religious reasons or perhaps crabappleness - yes this is a word look it up (on second thought, unless you have a Zep Dictionary you may not find it). I respect all views but also respect the idea of creating something fun and playful.  My evening walk is made more enjoyable when I walk past my closest neighbor to find the lights jump on, a groan come out of the bushes and a witch fly through the air cackling.  The first time I walked by I almost burst an aorta, but now I am amused and gladdened that someone has taken the time and energy to entertain.  My neighbor a few doors down is a typical curmudgeon crabapple.  He is distraught every time a young child uses his driveway to turn around on their bike, never answers the door when a child comes to sell cookies (or popcorn, or wreaths, or you name it), throws a hissy if you step on his lawn and never responds to a hello, a how you doing, or even a how about them bears.  Imagine my surprise when in one of my walks he approached me and started a conversation about my direct neighbor.  "How can you stand living next to that guy? The lights go off at all time of day and night, that soundtrack of the groaning and the cackling, the people driving by in their cars and stopping! What an insane use of ones yard!" I replied "Yes! I know! Isn't it fantastic????".  "FANTASTIC! We have kids from all over riding their bikes to see it" "YES! I know!! Wonderful!!!". He looked at me, shook his head, turned on his heels and started to walk away. I yelled to him "Happy Halloween season!".  He looked back, sneered and said "stay off of my lawn!".  Sigh. I can't wait to see what happens at Christmas!

Holding myself accountable

Yesterday I was asking a colleague if they were going to add new blogs to their company's website...which got me thinking....when was the last time the Whine Press had new content?  It's time for the Dr (in a time lordy sense) to take her own advice and put pen to paper, or at least type to screen.

So here we go.  My skills are a year rusty but hopefully still entertaining (at least to Jim my partner in blog).  

This is the burning question of my day.  When did pumpkin become a thing? I know that pumpkins have been in our sights since 1584 but when did they become a thing?  For at least the first 400 years most of us looked to them for pies, cakes and breads with only your "Gourmet" readers incorporating it as a savory ingredient in entrees.  So wha' happen?  How did this gourd become a rockstar in the latte world? Insinuated itself into cheesecake, ice cream and both? (I'm looking at you Ben & Jerry's Smashing Pumpkins Cheesecake Ice cream) Been a Pop Tart? Been an M&M? So many categories that the humble pumpkin has infiltrated.  Who knew that all these years the pumpkin was sitting in its patch stealthily waiting for the right time to strike.  A time when vanilla, citrus, fruit flavors and chocolate are not enough variety! A time when people will spend over $5 for a cup of coffee with milk in it! A time when mothers scream 'MORE FLAVORS OF POP TARTS! MY CHILDREN NEED MORE FLAVORS!".  Pumpkin THIS IS YOUR TIME!!

I am however, drawing a line at this......

 

Send me a card!

This weekend I was going through cards to find one for my daughter to give to a friend.  I sorted through cards not yet sent, pretty stationary, witty stationary, postcards with clever sayings on front, all waiting to be penned with thoughts and comments.  Sadly I rarely send cards just for the heck of it anymore.

Getting letters used to be quite common 20 years ago.  With the advent of email/social media this has become a thing of the past.  I do enjoy that we can now instantly send a message near and far to update our family and friends. It is wonderful to watch my niece's and nephew's children grow up before my eyes, coordinate schedules easier and quicker, and give cheer and boosts for the day in the blink of any eye. However, there is something a bit missing from this form of communication.

In the pile of blank cards and stationary are some I've kept that were sent to my family. I found the cherished letters from my late mother-in-law to my daughter.  The love and affection leaps off the pages and makes my smile bigger than the media storage capacity on my iphone.  The cards from my parents for various occasions, signed with my mother's perfect Palmer Method handwriting and always including the word "lovingly".  Then there are the postcards my husband sent me when he was away for training in New York. We were a fairly new relationship and I came to adore the pictures of  his hotel on Central park with the "you can smell the horse sh*t from my room" scrawled in his almost illegible handwriting on the back.

While I keep many emails and can scroll through social media to re-read conversations and messages, there is something about sitting on my bed, a lazy Saturday afternoon, cup of tea at my side, looking at the glorious cards and letters.  It feels more intimate, more personal.  To know someone took the time to pick out a card or stationary, put pen to paper, post it through the mail....it makes one feel a bit special, a bit loved.  These tangible items bring a feeling of connection...I know the sender physically touched these things. They were only thinking of me when they wrote these messages and not multi-tasking, not checking off a task on a to do list.

I think I'll find some pretty stationary and cards.  I'll begin sending out letters to my friends and relatives.  Hopefully they'll open the envelope and my love and affection will pour out like a mountain stream after a spring thaw.

If I had a way back machine...

I truly envy the mindful person who has always lived each day to the fullest. I've evolved and grown to be that person now but wish I could spare the younger version of me the bumpy thorny path it took to get here. If I could hop in my TARDIS and go back a few years, I'd whisper...

1.   If you have to work that hard to get noticed by a guy, do you really think he will pay attention/notice you in a relationship?
2.   Date the nerds, date the nerds, date the nerds!
3.   You are not fat, embrace your healthy strong body!
4.   Wax.  That's all.
5.   Spend more time with your siblings.
6.   Spend more time with your parents.
7.   Make sure to go on a honeymoon.
8.   You will not break/screw up/totally ruin your child.  You have to work very hard to mess them up and as long as you have good intentions they should be okay.
9.   You will not physically break them either (when bathing, dressing, collapsing their plank tight little bodies that don't want to sit in a car seat)
10. Those high priced items you had to have didn't hold your interest for very long...usually before they were paid for.
11.  Don't use credit!
12.  Moisturize!!!
13.  For God's sake, remember that the hot sauce at the strawberry fest is SAUCE not SALSA!! Only a drop on the chip! Only a drop!!

What would YOU whisper to your younger self given the chance?

And she's off!

I feel as if the baton has been passed! Picking up from the blog below, I'm here to talk elevators with you.  Fascinating things, eh? In our building, we have creaky, noisy, shaky, scary elevators.  At least once a week the maintenance crew has disabled one and can be seen poking around the innards of these wondrous machines.  Just yesterday they were in the elevator shaft standing on top of the mechanism yelling at it.  I said "Glad you're here in case mine gets stuck!" The mechanic replied "Yea, we can help you yell for help!". Mmmmm, not very confidence building.

I digress.  Elevator etiquette.  I'll tell you what is NOT good etiquette by this story.  I was traveling from the ground floor to the 12th floor with an older male passenger.  The doors opened on 6.  He hesitated, moved his hind end, let out an enormous fart and departed the elevator leaving me in the mist of an odoriferous cloud.  So let's make that #1 on Elevator Etiquette.

1.Hold on to your bowels until AFTER you depart.

2.Move to the back of the bus, if your floor is one of the last stops. 

3.Ladies, ladies with babies, old people, people carrying things - let those people get off first. You can make this happen with the sweeping gesture of your hand, or a nod of the head.  DO NOT LET PEOPLE TALKING ON THEIR CELL PHONE OFF FIRST! PENALIZE THIS GROUP!

4.When getting on to the elevator, it is polite to let the ladies, ladies with babies, old people, people carrying things to get on first while you, the younger or maler passenger risks their limbs by putting their arm across the doorway. And again...DO NOT LET PEOPLE TALKING ON THEIR CELL PHONE IN FIRST. As a matter of fact, put your damn phone down! 

5.When in the elevator, it is good luck to touch the button of the floor you are going to, just as it is good luck to touch the elevator call button. (This is not actually a fact, just seeing if Jim or anyone who has read the previous blog is paying attention...but then again, perhaps it'll become lore!)

6.Making eye contact, saying inappropriate things, joking around and other tomfoolery with people you have never met is not good etiquette but I just cannot help myself as it is tremendous fun.

7. If you are carrying food, drinks, messy things and spill something, the etiquette says you clean it up or at least contact building maintenance.  The elevator is not your garbage disposal. (I could spend more time on this based on the amount of tortilla chips left in the elevator from the folks going from 12 to 11, but it is too early and my blood pressure is at a good rate currently)

8. Please use common sense when the doors open and you find yourself faced with this decision - shove myself in and risk hitting the weight limit of an old, unstable, gets stuck frequently car cause I just want to get the heck out of dodge, OR hey, elevators are like el trains, always another one in a few moments.

9. Did I say don't fart in the elevator?  This goes for belching as well.

10. And finally....be mindful of the size of the elevator, the size of you and the size of the people behind you.  I can't count the amount of times that I've had to go into some circus contortions due to someone having a large backpack which claimed much of the space that I was previously standing in.  Don't even get me started on the umbrellas...that is for another blog.

Revolving Door Etiquette...

Everyone knows that it's polite and good-mannered to hold open a door for somebody, particularly if you are a male, walking through the same doorway as a female at about the same time. It must be a dying practice, because whenever I demonstrate the courtesy, I always get a very thankful reaction, more so than if it were a regularly exercised tradition. It's almost as though it is not quite expected, or at least a rare occurrence.

Whenever I hold a door to let a lady pass through before I do, I generally receive something like "Well, thank you so much!".  I guess if the gesture wasn't acknowledged at all, I'd feel a bit put off too. But to me it is more ingrained as part of my upbringing. I even extend this courtesy to men, depending on the circumstances. It would be strange, I suppose, to hold a door open for a man, allowing him to pass through before I do.  However, I will not let the door slam in another guy's face if he is approaching and within spitting distance of me. Also, if there is a family, say entering a restaurant or theater, I will hold the door, if my family is not completely assembled yet. It's interesting - with a man, if you enter a space that has an outer door leading into a foyer space with an adjacent door, the first man to open the door will almost always find that the gesture will invariably be reciprocated when passing through the second set of inside doors. You held for me, so I will hold for you. Actually, I find the whole dance a bit awkward.

Elevators can be awkward too. Do you allow all the women to enter/exit first?  Is this determined by age/gender?  Often, I think this can also be dictated by whether or not a passenger's arms are full of parcels, if they have a baby stroller, if their party outnumbers yours, and obviously if you find yourself in the back or front of the elevator. And why do so many people who enter an elevator on a floor after you've gotten on and pressed the button for the lobby, feel the need to over-press the button? It's almost as if saying, you possibly couldn't have pressed that lobby button anywhere near as well as I just did. There is really enough material here for another whole blog post.  Maybe I will let that simmer for a bit, or pass it off to my good friend, Zep, the other Whine Press contributor.

Now I have to talk about revolving doors. I have no idea if there is a prescribed or proper etiquette for revolving doors. I guess when I approach simultaneously with somebody else, regardless of gender, I feel it most gentlemanly to allow that person to enter the building first. What makes revolvers tricky is that they require a little work. The courtesy here relies on who is doing the brunt of that work. Now you can seem courteous by allowing a person to go in front of you into the first open section.  But this can be extremely discourteous, if you then allowed that person to push the door around, while you just kept your hands in your pockets, wishing they'd only push faster. But you can also be the first to enter and at the same time, allow the people following you to do the pushing, while you are wishing they'd put a little more back into it.

Still, I usually opt for letting the other person enter first. I think you have the most control then.  And then, we have a revolving door down the street at a Marriott Hotel that has a huge tri-partitioned separation. This door is really weird because not only is each sector cavernous enough to accommodate 2 or 3 people, but it is driven by a powerful motor, activated automatically by a sensor.  Again... could be another post for this baby.

Now what about public buses?  Do you agree with my thinking in that if you are forced to stand for the duration of the ride, if all the seats are taken, that all standing, should be allowed to exit the bus first, before anybody whose had the luxury of being seated, texting and reading for the whole ride?  Apparently, there are very different feelings about this disembarkation protocol too. It seems when it comes to buses, there is very little sense of any real protocol, courtesy or etiquette.  Dog-eat-dog is the order.  I've never written a post, where out of it sprang forth so much potential and new ideas for subsequent posts...
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Can I Vent About Lent?

Last Wednesday, March 5th, marked the first day of Lent. Now this period in the Christian calendar begins with Ash Wednesday, it runs the 40 days that lead up to Easter Sunday and is a time that is traditionally set aside as a preparation of the believer through prayer, penance, repentance of sins, atonement and self-denial. Its institutional purpose is heightened in the annual commemoration of Holy Week, marking the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus, which recalls the tradition and events of the New Testament, climaxing on Jesus' crucifixion on Good Friday, and ultimately culminates in the joyful celebration on Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Now those who know me, also know that I'm a Christian. I believe in practicing the faith and putting it into action. I believe in the prescribed traditions and adherence to the practices outlined above, though not a means to salvation, are an important spiritual discipline that can serve to enhance one's Christian walk.

Now I was raised Catholic and I'm quite familiar with the doctrines, traditions and expectations of the Catholic church. I never fully embraced the Catholic faith, but had, more or less, tolerated the dogmatic and rigid doctrines that were imposed on me by my parents. In fact, it caused me to lapse, for a period, into agnosticism or worse. I just can't follow a course of tradition that, to me are not logical and seemingly prods many devotees to the faith out of a sense of guilt and knee-jerk conditioning.

I'm trying desperately to communicate this in way that does not offend Catholics, but I fear that I'm not doing a very good job. I know many Catholics who are very devoted Christians. On the other hand, there are too many self proclaimed "Christians" who do not have the slightest inkling who Christ is, and what He stands for.

Proclaiming myself now to be a Christian might seem at first blush, a contradiction in terms, or even hypocritical, in light of my views on the Catholic church. A Christian is one who is follower of Christ. This is pretty plain and simple.  I believe that Jesus Christ is everything He says that He is... Son of God, creator of all that exists, He did physically defeat death and is our only means to eternal life. Am I sinner?  Absolutely. But I am covered by grace, and only through faith. Will I continue to sin? Absolutely - it is the unfortunate condition of a fallen world and a by-product of our human condition in these bodies we occupy.

My problem with Lent is all the chatter that I hear beginning on Ash Wednesday about what will be given up for the six week period. I've heard a lot of talk in the office and on the street about not eating meat, giving up sugar, television, coffee. I saw people proudly strutting around with ashes on their foreheads as a reminder that their present physical bodies are failing, that they came from dust and will hence return. I wonder...are they really considering this? I saw ashes being dispensed at the train station where I commute to Chicago every morning. Ashes on the go? Really?  I'm not saying that this can't be deeply meaningful and significant acts for some, but to many, it is simply the thing that you do if you're a "Good Catholic".  But what would Jesus say about all this?  I have a pretty good idea about that:

True fasting according to Isaiah 58:

The Lord says to them, “The truth is that at the same time you fast, you pursue your own interests and oppress your workers. ⁴ Your fasting makes you violent, and you quarrel and fight. Do you think this kind of fasting will make me listen to your prayers? ⁵ When you fast, you make yourselves suffer; you bow your heads low like a blade of grass and spread out sackcloth and ashes to lie on. Is that what you call fasting? Do you think I will be pleased with that?
⁶ “The kind of fasting I want is this: Remove the chains of oppression and the yoke of injustice, and let the oppressed go free. ⁷ Share your food with the hungry and open your homes to the homeless poor. Give clothes to those who have nothing to wear, and do not refuse to help your own relatives.
⁸ “Then my favor will shine on you like the morning sun, and your wounds will be quickly healed. I will always be with you to save you; my presence will protect you on every side. ⁹ When you pray, I will answer you. When you call to me, I will respond.
“If you put an end to oppression, to every gesture of contempt, and to every evil word; ¹⁰ if you give food to the hungry and satisfy those who are in need, then the darkness around you will turn to the brightness of noon. ¹¹ And I will always guide you and satisfy you with good things. I will keep you strong and well. You will be like a garden that has plenty of water, like a spring of water that never goes dry.


Or, if you want to give something up for Lent, here is a list of 20 things you might consider:

1. Guilt – I am loved by Jesus and he has forgiven my sins. Today is a new day and the past is behind.
2. Fear – God is on my side. In him I am more than a conqueror. (see Romans 8) 
3. The need to please everyone – I can’t please everyone anyways. There is only one I need to strive to please.
4. Envy – I am blessed. My value is not found in my possessions, but in my relationship with my Heavenly Father.
5. Impatience – God’s timing is the perfect timing.
6. Sense of entitlement – The world does not owe me anything. God does not owe me anything. I live in humility and grace.
7. Bitterness and Resentment – The only person I am hurting by holding on to these is myself.
8. Blame – I am not going to pass the buck. I will take responsibility for my actions.
9. Gossip and Negativity – I will put the best construction on everything when it comes to other people. I will also minimize my contact with people who are negative and toxic bringing other people down.
10. Comparison – I have my own unique contribution to make and there is no one else like me.
11. Fear of failure – You don’t succeed without experiencing failure. Just make sure you fail forward.
12. A spirit of poverty – Believe with God that there is always more than enough and never a lack
13. Feelings of unworthiness – You are fearfully and wonderfully made by your creator. (see Psalm 139)
14. Doubt – Believe God has a plan for you that is beyond anything you could imagine. The future is brighter than you could ever realize.
15. Self-pity – God comforts us in our sorrow so that we can comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.
16. Retirement – As long as you are still breathing, you are here for a reason. You have a purpose to influence others for Christ. That does not come to an end until the day we die.
17. Excuses – A wise man once said, if you need an excuse, any excuse will do.
18. Lack of counsel – Wise decisions are rarely made in a vacuum.
19. Pride – Blessed are the humble.
20. Worry – God is in control and worrying will not help.

Finding warmth when old man winter's come to stay

It has been a very brutal winter here in the land of Lincoln. At this point in most years we've seen a few glimpses of the spring to come that makes it easier to endure the last gasps of old man winter as he goes down fighting. This year he is determined to keep his dukes up and pummel us into within an inch of our sanity.  It's no use looking to mother nature to save us, we must rely on other things.

The most reliable source of warmth, as always, is the warmth of family and friends.  Spending time laughing and sharing stories with a friend is a source of heat that not only warms you during the contact but also when you think about the moment and memories.  Reflecting on this past week I am remembering all the warmth that will sustain me through the coming weeks when papa winter reprimands me with a biting wind and frosty temperature. These moments seem insignificant if you look at them one by one, but when aggregated create a blanket that comforts and takes away the chill of any day.

Just off the top of my head:

The morning "paid my dues" bus ride connecting, laughing and understanding
The executive ladies night out networking that included a drive filled with laughter and meeting up with old friends and old stories
The staff member who lost a friend and needed a hug (and got one)
The glass of wine at the end of the day with a friend who has been dealing with a very sick spouse that turned into a giggle fest
The breakfast with an adult child and her unbridled hysteria laugh
The phone call with a sibling that has nothing of substance but induces huge smiles

All of these moments are small and easily missed.  I wonder when people say what a rotten week they had if they took time to remember all the small good moments. Uncomfortable times sometimes set in and stay longer than we like, such as this winter, but even in the worst times there are beautiful moments.

I hope you find yours and that you hold on to the hope of spring!

Where is Martin Eden?

Where is Jim Farina for that matter?  I'm still here and winter is kicking our butts here in Chicago, just like it is for almost everybody else in the country.  I did get a short break in January when I joined a small team of 9 to serve our sister church in Haiti for a week. The average temperature during the day was about 82 degrees. What a way to reset your thinking and priorities in life.  I think everybody who lives in the U.S. should visit a third world country, even for a short time. I guarantee that you will return with a different perspective. You will appreciate our country's  benefits and opportunities in a very different way.

This was my third visit to Haiti and I have hopelessly lost my heart to the people of that country - they are so gracious and generous in spirit. I was tasked with writing a blog of my experience and have include the link, should you be interested in what my church, The Orchard, has been doing in Haiti for more than 30 years.  I'm really proud to be a small part of that.

 http://theorchardhaiti.wordpress.com/

Now I understand that I've lapsed in my commitment to blogging here at Whine Press, which I share with a very good friend, and my other blog Arkenstone has also felt some neglect. I need to think about writing more, if not daily.  Every successful writer has that in common, they keep writing and never give up.  I think it is a good exercise to write every single day.  I believe Jack London committed to about a thousand words a day. this brings me back to Martin Eden, the 1909 novel by London.  A wonderful story and semi-autobiographical account of London's own life and times. In 2009, I completed a screenplay based on this work.  I know it is good and it has garnered some nice recognition from some of the more prominent screenplay competitions where this script has been entered and has placed well in at least half a dozen.

Well spring is coming - the thaw is upon us.  It is time for me to wake from my metaphoric hibernation and begin marketing, blogging, writing another script or perhaps a short story. It is time to arise and seize the day!

Lazy is as lazy does...

Time really does fly by without one noticing.  It's been 6 months since the last blog on this site and if a blog could atrophy, this one would have.  I believe it's time to renew the commitment to the creative!  I'll start us off with a blog called......"Things you can only get away with saying when someone loves you..really loves you".

My husband is from Utah.  His background is Mormon, but his practice is not.  If you can find a non practicing Mormon....marry them....marry them quick! Do not leave this one on the table!  He is loyal, hardworking, family centered (almost to a fault) and mostly doesn't complain....which leads me to a very important fact; he has never ever called me a bad name to my face nor taken to swearing at me. (okay there was that one time about 20 years ago...). I'm not saying he hasn't thought those nasty things about me, but as a steadfast upright guy, he never would say them to me.  Which brings me to.....

This past December.  My family and I alternate hosting the Christmas holiday gathering.  The requirements of the host is to provide all the food, drink and festivities.  Given that I want my guests to feel comfortable, fed and happy, I put a bit of pressure on myself. Usually I don't freak out over how the house looks, if the food presentation is Martha Stewart standard nor care if I have matching servingware. I do get a little tense as people are arriving and also while coordinating the meal to be hot/cold/whipped/unplated/plated/etc. at the same time. Earlier in the day my husband was making a lot of testy crappy comments under his breath as he tends to do the "before the event" freakout. A mixture of both climates caused the temperature between us to be icy at best.  Luckily, my husband changed his attitude and mood through the help of a bottle or two of wine.  He came to me in the kitchen, ready to make amends and see if he could make me feel less tense.  His intention was to tell me that he was sorry that he contributed to the tension.  Well, that is what he SAID his intention was.  Here is the exact scene:

Comes into the kitchen...I'm at the stove with a spoon stirring a cream sauce.  He puts his arms around me, looks me in the eyes and says "Hey, I'm so sorry you are such a bitch".

Oh, my. He has a look of horror on his face, not only because of what came out of his mouth but what will shortly come out of mine (I have NO qualms of swearing and calling him names). In that instant however, I drop the spoon and double over in laughter. I laugh harder than maybe I ever have in my entire life. I figured it all out in a nano second.....what he meant to say, how horrified he is at what he did say, and how delighted I will be to tell the story, which I promptly did to the entire cast of family in the front room.  I'm still laughing about it a month later and he still feels bad about it. It did seem to me to be a tale with a insightful moral. Sometimes it's just words and frustration and means less than the burnt cream sauce I was stirring on the stove at the time..

Sometimes fantasy IS reality

Commuting to the city for work has many unexpected treats.  The physical benefit of walking over a mile along the river before the workday, the feast for the eyes in watching a gorgeous city wake, the chance to share stories with my fellow commuter, these all are blessings that the average short term commuter is not afforded.  The sweetest bonus, that may seem odd, is the connection you can have to some of the city's homeless.

The streets that take one from the train to the various office buildings gives a glimpse into the lives of the homeless residents that live in our city. Some of them appear to be in the throes of drug and drink addiction, some mentally ill (such as the man who pretends to conduct business complete with an old Wall Street Journal and some sort of earpiece), some merely down on their luck; it isn't necessary to know the hows and whys. Chicago can be a generous town. If you pay attention you'll notice that many people walking to and from their job seem to have relationships of a sort with the people who beg on our corners and bridges. Take for instance the people who stop and chat with the man on the bridge who greats everyone with a smile, sometimes a salute and shares pictures of his new grand baby. Or the woman who most mornings brings food to a man further down this same bridge. There are the guys I blogged of earlier who stand by the train and wait for the toddler to give them a smile and share a bit of affection, and the man that stands at the corner, cleanly but shabbily dressed, wishing everyone a blessed day.  I have my own personal buddies. On my walk home I have the guy on the other bridge that will occasionally grasp my hand when I give him money and tells me he loves me.  This interaction, along with the old guy who sells streetwise and says "have a good evening" and winks at me every night puts a spring to my step. No matter what my day is like, it is instantly better.  I truly believe that these connections help you stay human.

My fellow blogger and I normally walk to work from the train together.  We have formed bonds with our own special set of "on the way to work" buddies.  One of them Mike, sits outside the Starbucks, calls us J and J. If we are not walking together Mike will yell "HEY J, WHERE'S THE OTHER J?". Mike is missing part a leg and seems to be a mascot for many who pass him by.  Besides money, he's the recipient of coffee and food from work a day folks who stop and discuss small pleasantries which sometimes lead to insights of his life.  Just like with Mike, after time, you create a bond and start to hear their story. This leads me to one of our favorites, Jeff.  For years Jeff sat every morning on a bench near the Wrigley building.  He had a paper, coffee and maybe food. Many people stopped to talk to Jeff as he had a story he loved to tell.  He had been homeless due to drugs and drink combined with a sad childhood and lack of opportunities. Jeff worked on getting himself clean and became someone that was a strong voice representing the homeless.  He talked to people passing by and even got a chance to talk with city officials. He chatted about the book he was writing and let us read it.  The book is a rambling, hard to follow, bit shocking autobiography of where he'd been and where he is. My fellow blogger made copies for Jeff in hopes that he would find someone to champion his efforts. He would talk about his shoulder that needed an operation, his kids and how he was trying to mend that relationship as well as get to know his grand kids.  He was a fixture of our morning and added a bit of sunshine to the day.  From time to time Jeff wouldn't be on the bench, he would later explain that he couldn't get a ride from the homeless shelter, he was in the hospital with his shoulder and once or twice that he was with his kids. We rarely worried when we didn't see him day to day, however, that changed when we realized we had not seen him for a month or two. That month or two became a year, followed by another one.  Often when you no longer see a homeless person in their spot it means that time has taken its toll and they've succumbed to illness or violence that is common among this group.

With a heavy heart we realized this may have happened to Jeff. One day as we walked by Jeff's bench, we came up with an alternate thought. Jeff often talked about his kids in Champaign Illinois. A few times he had visited with them and it seemed to go well.  This is not always a truth you can count on when many of our homeless friends share a positive experience.  Often times the positive experience, much like the claims of getting clean and sober are more of a fantasy than a reality. Perhaps a fondest wish of how they hope it can be.  Many are forever waiting for the family to come save them, the job opportunity just around the corner, the invitation to a better life that is simply not going to arrive.  However with Jeff, my fellow blogger and I started to depend on our fantasy that Jeff was living with his family and all was well. That he was happy, in the lap of love and thriving.  The fantasy was one we had no way of proving or disproving until one day last week.  A normal day, walking along the beautiful river, the sun on our faces.  We look forward to walking through the plaza of the newly renovated Wrigley building, restored to its original grace and elegance.  Chatting away we didn't notice the well fed older gentlemen sitting on the bench.  "HEY!! HEY"! We turned to see....JEFF!  He looked wonderful and healthy.  Well taken care of and loved.  When we asked where he had been he said "I was living with my kids in Champaign.  I just re-connected with my older son, its a struggle but we're working on it".  We chatted a bit, he told us he was up for a week to see all his friends he made, like us, who stop to connect with him all those years he sat on that bench. He was still working on his book and would be back when he had copies for everyone.  We delighted in learning that the fantasy we constructed was very near the truth.   Much like the Grinch, our hearts grew three sizes that day.

The moral of this story? Turns out, that sometimes your fantasy isn't a fantasy at all. It's hopeful reality.

Fireworks - No Avoiding Them This Year...

Last year the 4th of July fell, inconveniently on a Wednesday, with a work day following.  I recall it was very hot, over 100 degrees and we couldn't travel as we normally do to visit my parents in Wisconsin. So I chose to stay in, skip the the local fireworks displays (not a big fan of them anyway), and just rented a movie.  I am re-posting the blog that I wrote last year on the 4th of July.  Somehow it mysteriously vanished from the Whine Press archives and the reason still remains a mystery.

Anyway, this year is shaping up to be much more of what a holiday should feel like:  long (4 day) weekend, comfortable temperatures (today is in the 60's!), the ability to travel to Wisconsin and back with extra days to spare!  And the potential to take in multiple fireworks displays on the 4th and 5th. Doesn't that almost make up for my complete lack of spirit last year?  I'm still not a big fan of fireworks, but hey, given all the time off with my family, a string of days to eat and drink indulgently, and hopefully, more tolerable temperatures... I think I can endure the popular ritual...

Last Year's Post:

I’m not a big fan of fireworks.  There, I finally proclaimed it.  A statement like that, I fear, makes me feel almost anti-American. It could be as blasphemous as saying I don’t see what the big deal is about the Star Wars franchise (incidentally, another true statement), or that I will be perfectly content to never have been to Disney World or Vegas and have absolutely no intention of doing so.  I missed the fireworks this year and feel no sense of regret for it.  It’s not like I have anything against the annual tradition, and I have had my share of viewing several shows during my lifetime, but at this point I feel as though I can take it or leave it (gasp!).  But really, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all, right? (GASP!!).

I’m writing this post late afternoon on the 4^th of July, 2012 -  so I actually have more opportunity to seek out a nearby fireworks display, if I so choose.  I think I will pass this year.  For starters, it is a record 100 degrees outside and add the dew point of 70 percent makes the actual feel-like temp somewhere between 110 and 115.  Why would anybody want to subject themselves to that?  I’d rather sit in the cool confines of my home with a glass of wine, while attempting to justify my non-patriotism to my family.  This can easily be accomplished with the lure of the recent DVD release of 21 Jump Street, which I just happened to pick up earlier today from the Blockbuster Express kiosk down the street.  Oh I suppose if I could view a fireworks display from my front porch, backyard, or even a short walk away I might take 20 minutes and a cool drink and take it in.  But the idea of driving to a destination, vie for a space, wait for the pyro-technicians, until they are good-and-ready, fight off mosquitoes and endure mass exodus traffic is more than I want to bear on work night.  This is yet another reason for my apathy—tomorrow is a work day, with this year’s 4^th being on a Wednesday.

Or perhaps I’m just making excuses and I really do harbor some anti-American sentiments that I have a difficulty admitting to myself.  After all, I’m also not a big fan of baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, marching bands or parades for that matter…

I really shouldn't own a house...

I started my married life and had my children on the west coast.  I am from the Midwest but have always felt connected to Southern California.  The beaches, the way of life, the kaleidoscope of people who are attracted to her.  It all blended into the perfect existence for me. I loved the beach rentals that I had and the life we led.  Having children changed that blissful reality.  I missed having older adult mentors to help guide me as a parent (okay, I missed free babysitting).  I desired the more staid yet structured life that to me was the heartland.  I yearned to own a house which Southern California made an almost impossible dream.

Shortly after I had my second child an opportunity arose for my little family to move back to the Midwest. Eager for some normalcy (and free babysitting) we jumped at the chance and moved back to within 5 miles of where I grew up.  Since the opportunity was a business one for my husband, this meant that he go house hunting without me.  My sister kindly accompanied him in the house hunt.  My first glance at the house they chose was the day I moved into it.  Believe me when I say the look of awe on my face was not one of delight.  It was a big house....a big house filled with wallpaper......but not for long.  I set about removing all wallpaper (and finding several large holes which explained the wallpaper) and painted.  I didn't paint well, but I painted.

Then I started to notice that this house had a personality that mirrored mine.  Not quite right.  It started in the kitchen.  The refrigerator had an ice maker.  Hallelujah! Crushed ice!!  However, to get the ice maker to deposit ice in your glass you needed to lean against the door while you pushed the lever to get ice.  We have changed refrigerators but many who come to my house still lean against the door when getting ice.

Next was the stove.  For a brief period of time everything seemed wonderful. Wonderful until the oven door refused to stay shut.  Problem solved though by placing a chair against the oven door!  We quickly learned not to use a metal chair and then quickly learned not to leave the kitchen while we baked as the wooden chair got so hot I swear I used to see sparks begin to flare up.

There are windows that that don't stay in an up position, carpeting that moves when you move, and bathroom floor tile that sticks to your feet after you have showered.  What is the point of all this?  We never ever ever tested any of these things before we bought this house.  It was as if we glanced at the house, saw there were some rooms and said "yep, it'll do pig" and signed the papers.

All of these things are minor (only because the chair against the oven never did catch fire) and were stupid not to catch but I have saved the two biggest "why do you even own a house" moments for last.

The downstairs of the house has been eternally cold.  We have had furnace people come out to fix our furnace and never really pursued how cold it is.  We have replaced a furnace and never mentioned it.  Shortly after replacing the furnace I noticed the fan stayed on all the time and that there was a buzzing sound.  I did what anyone would do... I took a video so that I could capture the sound.  Oh yea, and then I called the furnace repair guy.  A very nice man came over and started pointing at boxes and asking me "whats this?" And I said, "I don't now".  He said "Hey do you know that your humidifier has the water intake shut off?" Me "We have a humidifier?"  Him "Yes, that is what is making the loud noise.  When was the last time you had the water on to this?" Me "Um" Him "I think you've had this humidifier running since you bought the house but to no avail as there is no water connected.  Its also dying. Can I remove it?" Me "Yea,Um, Er".  Him "The other noise is your carbon monoxide detector.  It doesn't work anymore" Me "I have a carbon monoxide detector " Him "Not one that works.  Oh, hey, have you noticed that it is really cold downstairs?" Me "um" Him "How long has the main valve from the furnace been shut to the downstairs vents?" Me "um". That is when it first occurred to me "I probably shouldn't own a house".

The kicker to this tale happened this past week.  We decided to replace the sliding glass door. A very nice man came to do the install. The first words out of his mouth where "Did you know that your sliding glass door was put on backwards?  Anyone could have simply lifted off the door from the outside and strolled right in.  Didn't you ever notice that other doors have the screens on the outside, not the inside?"

Yep.  Probably should have just rented.

Aspie? Well that Explains Everything!

 
It seems that I display an adequate amount of traits to place neatly on the spectrum for being classified as an “Aspie”.  An Aspie is the affectionate term for a person having Asperger's  syndrome.  Asperger's syndrome (AS), also known as Asperger's disorder (AD), is an autism spectrum disorder (ASD) that is characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction, alongside restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests. It differs from other autism spectrum disorders by its relative preservation of linguistic and cognitive development. Although not required for diagnosis, physical clumsiness and atypical (peculiar, odd) use of language are frequently reported.  In short, Aspergers is a high-functioning form of autism. Most Aspies exhibit profound intelligence in selective areas, as well as the capacity to be highly creative and imaginative.  

This explains a lot! And the more I explore those traits and behaviors that define and characterize an Aspie, the more that I'm convinced that I can classify myself as such.  My wife and children have no doubts whatsoever in accepting my recent self-diagnosis. It was like an "Ahaa!" moment for the entire family, once I began to share my findings.

What initially prompted my exploration into Asperger’s syndrome was hearing speaker and author, David Finch at our local community college. Finch was diagnosed with Asperger’s later in life (age 35). The undiagnosed condition nearly ended his marriage.  Finch wrote the New York Times bestseller, Journal of Best Practices, a memoir.  My wife and I have been lately attending literary, celebrity and book signing events at the college.  We’ve find it makes for an enlightening, often entertaining and relatively cheap night out and a good break from routine.

Mr. Finch’s talk was scheduled to run an hour and a half.  I believe this event was free, so we decided that we would stay for some of it and bolt once it started getting boring.  He ended up speaking for 2 hours and we stayed for the duration.  David Finch recalled his experiences with Asperger’s from grade school through adolescence, his college years and professional career.  We found him to be entertaining, while at the same time he painted a painfully close-to-home account of an Aspie who’s learned to adapt in a neurotypical world.  All I could think as Finch spoke was, WOW!  That is me!  I could completely relate to his journey through life.  My arm was bruised as my wife kept nudging me in that way as to express her thought…”sound familiar, Jim?”.

There are a couple online tests available that further reinforced my suspicion that I might be an Aspie.  In the first quiz that asked 50 questions, I scored 3 points from what is considered being full-blown Asperger’s.  Apparently, most who received a similar score were 86 percent likely to be diagnosed with the condition.  The second test I took, the Aspie Quiz, asked 150 questions.  In this test I placed more between Aspie and Neurotypical, but weighing slightly heavier on the Aspie side.

I always suspected that there was more to my peculiarities – my social awkwardness and avoidance of social interaction and frequent need to be alone with my books.  This also explains much of why I found it almost impossible to focus and learn in a classroom setting, unless it was a topic that I was really interested in.  This could also account for the fact that my formal education ended in 10^th grade.  Most people, until they know better, naturally assume that I’ve had a college education.  It’s very awkward for me when asked what university I’d attended.  There was no diagnosis back when I was in school for conditions such as ADHD, ADD, ODD, OCD or Asperger’s syndrome.  Everybody just thought me shy, awkward and odd, well actually, I’m still all of those things, but much like Finch, I’ve forced myself to adapt as best I could to a neurotypical  world.  It’s not easy, but through the years I have found coping mechanisms to help with my social anxiety. 

I often find myself scripting out dialogue in my head before going to social functions, almost as if assuming a character role.  Hmmm…I wonder if this is why I seem pretty clever at writing screenplay dialogue?  Sometimes the use of props is helpful to me.  Holding onto a pen in my pocket or fiddling with a rubber band has always been a great aide for some bizarre reason.  I must always have an escape plan.  A few weeks ago I attended a wedding shower for a co-worker.  I care and respect this person very much and sense that she herself has had some difficulty conforming to what’s been deemed as the neurotypical model. My friends must also be intelligent, or I find little use for their company.  I will force myself to engage in social situations if the person who’s the focus is someone important to me.  Generally, I do well once I adjust to the surroundings, have a couple drinks and seek out a comfortable and familiar group to converse with.  This particular event also had a definitive time frame, which helps.  I do very poorly with ambiguity.

The party was at a house and an unfamiliar setting for me, but I’m good as long as I have an escape plan in place.  When I walked into the house, the party was in full swing.  I was greeted at the front door by a familiar face, the daughter of a dear friend, who offered to take my jacket.  I immediately asked where she was meaning to store it.  She offered to take it upstairs with all the other coats.  Oh no!! Panic…  I said that doesn’t work for me – so I neatly tucked it near the front entryway, in an alcove that nicely accommodated an antique chest of sorts.  I never felt the need to make an escape, but I always like to know that I have the option.  And as usual, I did have a good time.  I always leave these situations wondering why I obsess so much at the prospect of social engagement, creating so much unnecessary anxiety.  

I have a new found freedom in knowing I’m an Aspie. This is actually a positive breakthrough in understanding some of my oddities – it would fill a book in itself if I actually took the time to chronicle all of my strange do’s and don’ts, my aversion to certain noises, forcing myself to look people in the eyes, my abhorrence for small talk, my ritual practices and strict adherence to routines.  I’ve learned to keep much of this stuff at home, so it is really my poor, patient and loving family that must endure the brunt of it. But at least we now have an explanation after all these years.

Next week we are going to a Q&A session at HarperCommunity College. The guest speaker is Lauren Cohan, who plays Maggie Greene on AMC’s television zombie drama, The Walking Dead.  Now what revelations could that possibly bring?