Those words were first written in Tio Victor’s piece. I’ve shed many a tear for those who passed on due to illness’ that showed no mercy, was brutal and bent on destruction. It’s one thing when it happens to your parents, tíos, tías and even primos …
(c) IMOB-Walsh/McCalla
But when it makes an appearance on a sibling That’s a whole new realm and you can’t help to wonder When you’ll be next
I don’t cry for the Walsh’s Except when my father died The day before his 90th birthday His spirit visited me and he was angry
Angry for being taken from living Angry for the last drink not had Angry for eating his last meal Angry.
(c) IMOB-Walsh/McCalla
The McCalla I cry for today is my sister Evie Although technically she is a Walsh She arrived through a McCalla And that makes her both
Nicknamed Judy for her JudyGarland eyes Big brown with the longest lashes Those eyes required glasses of the strongest kind To view the world but not life ahead
Judy was whimsical An artist with the capacity to draw Images of fantasy and fiction Prompted by her obsession with romance novels
(c) IMOB-Walsh/McCalla
Artists run in the McCalla family From photographers to those who draw and painted So does mental illness. From those who isolate and those who drink
LGBT slides Beneath the surface The ones who never got married, never had a partner Who live on the West coast away from the East
But Back to my sister Judy A life lived To the fullest? I will never know
(c) IMOB-Walsh/McCalla
A life lived Within her means and understanding Of the world she lived in Comfortably existing in
I once told my sister I love you and she said she loved me too.
“You can’t always get what you want But if you try sometimes you might find You get what you need”-Rolling Stones
To have
teeth, white as fresh snow that bedazzles the eye, I wantthat expensive Sonic toothbrush
To have
the cleanest floor, one a Queen can eat off without plates, I want that Roomba
To have
the fittest body, tight in the right places and loose where it ought to be, I want that Equinox membership with a personal trainer
To have
the best frying pan, that distributes heat evenly across its radius, frying food to perfection, I want a Le Creuset Toughened Non-Stick Shallow Frying pan
To have
the best running shoes, that will propel my body forward, moving faster than any others running with mediocre shoes, I want the Nike Zoomx Vaporfly.
To have
the best piano, whose strings would bring out the highs and lows of classical music, the best of my banging, I want a Bösendorfer
Well…
I can have all I want in my mind
Because the money to buy the things I want
is not sitting on fluffy golden cushion in my bank account
I work with them and so do you…there’s no getting around it, no putting it on the side…you know who they are.
They smile in your face, play the extrovert full of empathy that’s really apathy meanwhile you see the fakeness, the fake emotions while they shove you under the bus.
“Play the game” close confidents whisper in your ear. Nod your head, say yes and pamper their whimsical hysterical demands. Hey, they make more than you so suck it up.
When the time comes when enough is enough, do you go postal, cursing with eloquent profanity, blazing high pitched and on target as you sashay out the door?
Or do you smile, weakly, tuck the tail up where the sun can’t shine, walk backwards out the door, bowing and saying, “Oh so sorry. Me quit”.
Who has the answers to dealing with those ‘smiling faces’ 35 plus hours a week?
I don’t.
Actually, I do.
From those packs of smiling hyenas there are those who shine through.
sadness is pretty much clear, singled out with pity parties thrown but not in your honour
Sometimes feeling blue is ok
feeling blue its totally acceptable-look how many songs about being blue are out there
feeling sad is not
people run away as if you’ve contracted the plague -sadness, we all know is highly contagious
Sometimes feeling blue is ok
blue is an acceptable colour, blue skies, blue eyes, blueberries even playing the blues has colour
feeling sad is not
sad is gloomy and dark, no colour hues like blue just tears, frowns and being down
Sometimes feeling blue is ok
like when long standing relationships end because the glitter that kept them going has been thrown and scattered so many times there’s just nothing left
feeling sad is not
especially when you go around trying to pick up those specks of glitter and end up with dust bunnies attached
Sometimes feeling blue is ok
when it rains on your parade and then, behold, the sun comes through bringing fairies and yellow rays of sun
feeling sad is not
when you try to open an umbrella to starve off the rain on your parade and the wind turns the umbrella inside out and you’re too busy cursing and fighting with the wind and you accidentally knock a fairy upside the head along with the single yellow ray of sun that was guiding it
Sometimes feeling blue is ok
When you buy a hot dog to make you feel better cause the stress at work is bringing you down
Feeling sad is not
you forgot to order sauerkraut with that hotdog and once you take a bite, the bun is stale and you already walked too far from the vendor to run back and curse him out
Running, seriously keeps me in the moment, in the present, with thoughts dabbing tearfully at the past and plans my hand enjoys squashing like a giant bug swatter dealing with the future.
The act of running,
Is not running…
It’s training to run.
Training is…
Humiliating, teaching one to be humble during a race as gastrointestinal issues make an unexpected appearance before hitting a porta potty. Once there, one recuperates, cursing the lack of tp and continues afterwards with the…
Training that becomes…
Humbling, when a cocky self assured self decides to run a ½ marathon without the training and ends up puking on the side of the running path. Once there, one recuperates cursing at not having the time to train and continues afterwards with the…
Training that inspires…
Aspirations which turn into goals and thus become accomplishments. Once there, one recuperates, cursing at not recognizing what the hard work was for and duh, reveling in the feely, good thingys not only felt but held close to the heart.
Well, those are my thoughts on running or random acts of self-gloating.
The job I do which comes with money, insurance, sick and vacation days-
Will Never Define Me.
If I left tomorrow, another would take my place and yesterday’s trash would hold my memory. I work for an organization that bears no ownership from me but seeks to own me 9-5 five days a week, 52 weeks of the year.
Not my circus, not my monkeys and,
still I work.
For the pitiful salary that allows me to live paycheck to paycheck.
I work.
Twenty-three dollars of green and cream coloured paper can pay for a NYRR race so yes, I
work.
Some money is better than no money.
Before 9am I am the person who owns myself, running 4-6 miles through Ppark alleviating all the knots and kinks required for the introvert in me to go forth into the wonderful office space world where, annoying can’t be alone extroverts, rule.
After 5pm, I revert to being me, in my apartment, wearing the jammies, with the furbabies, two glasses of wine and a good book or SVU on the tube. The introvert in me welcomes my non-inclusive space.
Non-inclusive means space for me and surely not you.
Lord have mercy…
for the extroverts and their lonely selves cannot exist without the attention sucked from introverts who long for the private office the extroverts occupy.
Still I work.
Money is earned not given in my case.
I work…
not for the accolades which are reserved for those who make the most and work the least.
Work,
because it pays the endless bills left always in arrears.
Some money is better than no money so
I work and will keep working until the bills ride off into the sunset or I win mega millions and with my middle finger held high, I ride off into the sunset.
Tobias, Toba, Tub of lard, Mr. Tobes, Mr. T, Tobester, Tobadia, Mr Tobadia.
Toby, for me
YOU will always be…just Toby.
I want to write down the words that tell my feelings about
YOU.
But…
When I think of
USTED, I get all mamba jamba boogied up tight lip and my chest hurts, missing your bunny hopping days through Ppark.
The pain is so real and so there…as
TÚ is no longer here, and neither is Pi and I long to touch and smell
USTED as I do him.
Although, stink, Pi did, as did
YOU, and it did not matter because being all mine, all the time, unconditionally, lovingly far surpassed the dirty dog, musty stink after swimming at the doggy beach in Ppark brought into the house.
USTED passed into shadow on Monday evening, October 9, 2017, licking peanut butter from my finger as Propofol made its way through the vein that would eventually connect with other veins on a path to your heart-unstoppable as your personality and love was.
TÚ paused in the peanut butter licking, confused somewhat and before I could acknowledge what was taking place, the ER vet plunged Euthasol into that same vein, which stopped, and ended the pumping of your sweet heart that held mi alma intact and made me realize that yes,
YOU and your love were stoppable.
Pi took my heart…
TÚ my dear first fur baby, the oldest of the pack, took my soul (mi alma).
Beat on…run on…free at last from the arthritis, the crippling of the joints, the senioritis which left you at times confused looking for our house on return walks the sometimes incontinence, the sometimes-foggy vision, free at last, thank HIM almighty you are free.
Gracias me perrito que vivir en mi vida por catorce años.
Gracias for choosing me.
I want to say to
YOU all that wasn’t said while this earth was lucky to have your soul in its presence, it’s concrete jungle, pseudo Ppark in the woods landscape with me by your side. Gracias a
TÚ for finding and choosing me to spend time in your life. Pi was not part of
the package, pero
USTED accepted him or better yet, tolerated him on your own terms.
The residents at the now defunct Bishop Hulces nursing home would also join in this thanks to
YOU, the certified therapy dog who strutted through the dementia ward bringing the gift of words to those who would not normally speak.
USTED, my sweet baby boy would allow the locked words to flow in their gibberish, unstoppable, accepted and not challenged or corrected way.
I remember the young teenage girl who was placed in the nursing home due to her disability of severed legs sacrificed from her attempted suicide gone wrong pact with an MTA train. Mother and father were at her bedside during our visits and the tension and awkwardness were too real to ignore. They spoke no English and who knows what if they knew what to make of you grizzly Adams appearance.
YOU jumped on me, and unto her bed, snuggled up to a hip that no longer had an extension. She in turn was happy to pet your fur which brought forth a smile easing the tensions from the parents who now mirar a
USTED at what I perceived to be respect and admiration. The visits to her room always brought out the best in the soul that resided en
LOVE
TÚ and el alma that took my own away.
Bereavement is not so acceptable when it comes to fur babies because for many they are insignificant, easily discarded as the wrapper on a wad of gum. Going into shadow is as irrelevant as swatting a mosquito of an arm.
But guess what…
For me not having
YOU, the job of life can be done but trust me, it will be half assed done, for your unconditional no judgement love does not await me when I return home and I’m left with no defense to put the day’s sucking vampires behind me.
I go to work, forced to converse in conversations when I’d rather be home licking my wounds and thinking of you. Grieving for your lil bro was much easier-I was unemployed.
To pick up your ashes, I must return to the place your last breath was drawn and I will bring
YOU home.
Which is where you are now, my sweet Toby boy.
** TÚ, USTED = You. Mirar=look. Gracias a tú=thanks to you. en= in. pero=but. Gracias me perrito que vivir en mi vida por catorce años=Thank you my doggy who lived in my life for 14 years.
To be social and branch out of solely running Ppark (Prospect Park)
Graduate from the 5k’s with the tee shirt award to the 10k’s with the tee shirts AND medal awards
Guess what?
Achieved, done, concluded, fulfilled, ended, over and done with!!
Goals are the wish lists we formulate and attempt to complete… OR…fail while doing so.
Failure…
At times, staying in ‘Kansas’ may be the road block which caused the goal failure to begin with. Comfort-ability does have its snags… BUT… so does taking that initial step to ‘make it happen’ and tripping, falling flat on your face and ending up in a hospital bed, thinking , ‘How the hell did that happen?’
Well, as John Lennon said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.
And so it does…life happens.
The running goals for 2017 were not going to happen if I continued to run alone in Ppark doing the same thing, the same way, everyday.
Change.
It had to come so I joined a running group, paid the joiner’s fee with money borrowed and not paid back. This major shift gave the best results as my running goals were met as well as having social running buddies. Aspirations and new goals are up a notch for 2018 (God willing because we know he can be tricksy sometimes).
Anélemc's Writing 
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