Well I suppose since I took such a significant hiatus from this blog that I should mention that our beloved Viper, pictured above, had to be put down the day before Thanksgiving 2015.  Of course we all were devastated, particularly me, as I did not know what an amazing role he played in my life.  Yes, he was technically Scotty’s primary dog when we were showing, and a spectacular show dog he was, but he was also my constant companion, particularly after Scotty went into the Marine Corps.

At the time of his death, we already had two other dogs.  The first dog, Maggie, is a miniature tri-colored Australian Shepherd, who was a very intentional pick.  You  may wonder why a family that had a long history of raising, breeding, and showing Golden Retrievers might not get Ben another Golden, but it was about me.  Viper followed me everywhere, and I knew another Golden would just hang with the pack, so since Ben got along so well with Scotty and Kenzie’s new dog Bentley (who is a full-sized Aussie) we looked into a smaller version of this breed.  It was a good choice because to this day they are inseparable.

Of course that left Amanda kind of alone.  Viper followed me, Maggie followed Ben, and although both dogs would patronize her, she was, for all practical purposes, dog-less. This led to the acquisition of C. S. Lewis, or Lou, or Sweet Lou, or Lou Bear, or one of the hundreds of names he goes by.  He is actually on of Maggie’s siblings from the following litter, and he is what in the breed is known as a Blue Merle.  He is a looker, and Scotty when home created Lou an Instagram account called Blue_Eyed_Louie or Lewis the Aussie  https://www.instagram.com/blue_eye_louie/  He is ridiculous as he has over 2500 followers.  Of course as he is my wife’s dog, he should probably have more.

But I digress.  After Viper’s passing, I became terribly depressed.  I just really struggled with the loss not just of my best friend and constant companion, but of a dog who really did provide me the lion’s share of my emotional support. I do not want anyone to believe that my wife or family does not support me, because in all honesty they do.  But after the second or third time of ruffing up my wife’s hair and telling her what a good boy she was, it was clear I was not doing as well as we had hoped.

Of course AngelCreek, our kennel and show name, had a history of only Goldens, so I think it was quite a shock to my wife and children that I would be considering another breed.  I am not an old guy, so I do not consider this my last dog decision, but in all my life I had not ever had a dog like Viper.  I considered Goldens, but decided in only a short time that staring at a new Golden and crying all the time may not be the best way to move forward, unless you consider institutionalization a way forward.

So we talked quite a bit about a lot of breeds, and for many reasons settled on German Shepherds.  When we used to show, German Shepherds were always close by and I enjoyed watching the breed and was impressed with the people who showed them.  I was not fond of the slanted back of the show dogs, but the loyalty and intelligence of the dogs themselves.

So in time I found a breeder and a dog, Abigail is her call name.  And like Viper, who was really “Charisma’s AngelCreek SnakenShake,” Abbey has her real name “EngelBach com Gizewski,” or in English, “AngelCreek com Gizewski,” Gizewski being the name of the kennel from where she came.

And I thank Abigail every day for not being Viper.  No dog could ever be him for me, and she was never intended as a replacement.  She is a mixed line of both show and obedience lines, and up until my trainer died recently, was receiving much of the training that a police dog was.  It is all intentional.  Viper would wait for me to come home and go sit out with me in the yard.  Abbey will have none of it, and needs training and activity.  It is a sweet deal for me, and my only complaint is that my wife can call my fierce-looking tough-guy dog right over for some “belly-rubs” and she leaves me.  We are working on that.

But I am enjoying the challenges.  Abbey keeps me moving as much as she can, challenges me, and knows when I am struggling.  She does not deal with me like Vipe did, but is every bit as effective.  Viper would be with me in the moment, Abbey gets me out of the moment.

I have had some incredible companions over the course of my life, and they have never disappointed me.  So I though I would bring you up to date on the ones with me now and allow those who knew Viper to hear about him from me.  They have not just been our dogs, they are our family.  And I am thankful for them all in my life.

Peace!

Tommy+

Well I had so many positive comments on the return of this blog, that in my amazing awesomeness, I forgot completely to post yeste
rday.  I cannot say that I am surprised, however I can say that we should all be happy I am not anyone’s neurosurgeon!  As many of you know, I have a few memory problems, and they show up from time to time.  If you are a new reader, then welcome aboard….I am this stupid much of the time.

Anyway, posting a picture of my grandson Issac was a great way to start this blog up again.  Today Issac is one week old, and to my joy and amazement, he has already pooped all over his dad.  I always thought that I would be the messenger of such payback, but it is obvious that the little guy works for me.  And to his credit, he had his dad laughing and talking about it like it was a monumental event, sort of similar to graduating from the Naval Academy.  I thought it was, but of course I am just a week into the grandparent business.

On a related note, I thought I would post tonight’s picture of Issac, along with his “Uncle Ben” (maker of some delicious rice), his smoking hot grandma Amanda, and me, his grandfather (the large black blob who looks uncomfortable and photoshopped into the picture).

It was not until I looked at this picture to include it in the post that I noticed “Uncle Ben,” who is here assigned to “holding” his nephew, making two “thumbs up” signs meaning he is likely to lose his pending football scholarship to the famous Earl Schieb St. Louis Paint and Body and Therapeutic Massage University.  Obviously if you exhibit such carelessness with a baby, you probably will only be a little better with a football, even if your mom is in the backfield.  But here, no harm, no foul.  Ben actually loves the little guy.

Of course now Ben thinks it is a good time for us to adopt a little sister “for him,” with the promises of interaction, good behavior, and a blessed experience for all.  Of course I weigh this up against his cat and dog which he promised to “take care of” many years ago, meaning they both would starve if I did not feed them.  We have all agreed that Ben does not have a future in babysitting.

But regardless, Amanda and I are grandparents, and for those who have not ever seen her, yes this is an actual picture of my wife just a week ago. Yes she is beautiful, and as both a priest and therapist, let me admit that looking at the both of us, she may have some what we in the business call :issues.”  But let’s stay out of my business if you will and let me worry about why she married a guy like me.  It may take a while to figure out.

The big news however is that I have remembered to post, and that here it is.  In baseball that would be batting .666.  In theology, that would be something I might want to change.  Regardless, I am working on remembering.  And I will be asking whats her face to remind me tomorrow, if she ever comes to bed.

 About a year ago I stopped writing my blog entitled Tales of a Faithful DragonSlayer. In the 5+ years I wrote it, it evolved from a therapeutic tool to recover from my stroke in 2008 to more of a way for people to keep up with the life and times of a not-so-regular Anglican priest attempting to survive in a rapidly changing landscape (the Church). It became something that I felt was not all that healthy for my spirit, so I set it aside.

Now a year or so later I find myself in a much different place. The primary reason for my writing the blog was for myself. It kept my mind sharp, and allowed me to express myself in ways that stretched and exercised my mind. It allowed me to release what is clearly my unorthodox sense of humor, but it evolved to the point that I avoided things I believed in, not wanting to get into political or theological debates with others, as it truly is my own personal conviction that if you want to disagree with me that is your God-given right…..even if you are dead wrong.

But my discomfort about such things led me to back off, and to some extent cower down, which is not only contrary to my style, but offensive to my own personal theology.

It brings to mind a trend that is happening in our country which disturbs me very deeply……..we have surrendered the right to be ourselves.

I am writing this entry on an airplane returning to Indiana from attending my Aunt Winnie’s funeral in Sarasota, Florida. Aunt Winnie was my grandma’s sister, and her voice and her presence in my life personally was an unbelievable comfort to me since my grandma died in the late 1970’s. It was a wonderful gathering of family that she herself probably would have enjoyed the most.

But what may surprise some who read this is that in my family I am a minority. Yep, this right-wing, racist, homophobe, hateer, and all the other crap I have been called over the years comes from a family of liberals, some who would make Barry Sanders look conservative. And some even still attend and are active members in good-standing of the Episcopal Church whose shameful and offensive treatment of me as I left at the end of 2006, not even Stephen King could concoct. Yet there I was Tommy, and there were my aunts and uncles and cousins, and quite frankly though we joked about religion, sexuality, and politics, none of us gave a damn about head locking another. In my family, of which one of the finest women I have ever known we were there to honor was a matriarch, We love each other first. Family is family, and if I just lived in Cleveland I could cancel out more of their votes.

But I had an Epiphany there, and I need to write. And I need to write about the truth as I know it and believe it. If you are offended by it, remember just like David Thorne does (yes, I am a fan), I write my blog for me.

In fact, I feel healthier already, so much so in fact that if I had a personal trainer and a therapist I would fire them both. But for now I will just take things one step at a time.

And so we are clear, I also moved this to FrTomTirman.com, not because of some repressed narcissistic tendencies that suddenly surfaced, but because of all the junk mail that came into my box through my Google (I am sorry Alphabet-cha) account right after I signed back into my blog about a month ago. Coincidence? Oh I am sure! But it was enough for me to move it, and will allow me to do a few other things as well.

The best part however is that I already know how to spell my name!

God Bless!

Tommy+

I do not want to be envious or jealous, but I want my dog’s life. I have had a busy day and really, I am exhausted, but for the last part of it I took our dog Viper. It was not that he didn’t want to go the rest of the day, I just didn’t take him. He however know what he wants,tries to get it, and knows how to enjoy it.

So this is obviously not him in the picture, as it was too dark to take one, but it captures the context, for as we were driving home I looked in my side-view mirror, and there he was with the window down, head out the window in the cool air, fast asleep.  I was in the front seat, as my license is to drive whereas his is just to be a dog, and my knee was aching, I was tired, cold, and feeling a great deal of admiration for the glorious example he was setting. And this just proves his versatility, as he is technically a retriever. (stay with me, I am here all week)

But the question is, how can a grown man feel this way? The dog isn’t supposed to be the master, it is the other way around.  Or is it something like marriage, where I only believe I am in charge?  I don’t know, as these are deep thoughts and I pretty sure I cannot think of them until I ask Amanda for permission.

I will confess however, that in my 53 years on God’s good earth, I have never considered such aspirations. I have always seemed driven to aspire to something more “socially acceptable,” and in all honesty I am not dissatisfied with my path. But perhaps my life could be edified in some way by adopting Viper’s philosophy.

In truth my life would be far better if I was happy to see everyone, and I just enjoyed every moment with a deep sense of comfort and satisfaction…..especially those moments I was awake.

Goodnight my friends and God Bless!

Tommy+

Yes, another “oldie,” but a “goodie” as they say. But it certainly expresses in a humorous way how I am feeling tonight…….like I have been bitten by a shark!  Not that I would know, mind you. You may find it surprising to discover that Indiana, although it does have a few miles of beach on the northern border of our country, is actually void of sharks…..unless of course they are there on vacation.

But I feel bitten as so much is going on at once that it has been a bit overwhelming. And although my experience is more among the common Indiana squirrel (crazious rodent indecicivous) the analogy is still good. A bite is wounding in some way, and it often draws more sharks. The need is to get to a safe place, but as I said, I am from Indiana, so my tendency is to dart off in 50 random directions, often all at once, like a squirrel. I think this is one reason why squirrels never can never keep jobs, as they appear over-worked and random. But in fact, as I have maybe 20 of them that live in my yard, I can say that they are pretty efficient.

A bite however hurts. And it definitely can slow you down, and a random non-intentional path does nothing to get you out of the water, yet it’s important to do so…….for staying in the water often leads to more sharks. I know that the back fill behind all this may be vague, after all I went from quite a few years of continuous daily blogging, to s stutter, then a stop, then an absence, to a pre-Thanksgiving dissertation on the correlation of shark and squirrel theory. But in all honesty it is just me attempting to process my life. And as a man (supremious delusinati) from Indiana (Deus nisi pro eo), I know the path to happiness is to have less of a shark life and more of a squirrel life. It’s okay to be busy, but do your work and be prepared.

So Ben’s shark suit no longer fits, in fact many of his costumes don’t, but the lesson of seeing it is not lost on me. The picture also makes me smile…..another good lesson. Life can bite in places (generally in my gluteous maximus), but we still have plenty for which we can smile. 

After all, the shark-handler (mommious sexious) is my wife. Yep, life can be hard, and sometimes even bite, but everyday I get to come home to that. (and a much older shark).  It’s all about perspective I suppose. So really, I guess I can say, I should really be happy I am not her. After all, she has real problems living with all the sharks and squirrels.

Goodnight my friends and God Bless!

Tommy+

I have to confess, I am doing an awful lot of paddling, but I do not believe my progress is really commensurate with the amount of work. It’s not that I need to produce a masterpiece, because I don’t, but I do like to feel I have accomplished something, and that I am not currently feeling.

I have truly shifted gears in my life, not giving up that which I love, but refining it in a finer way. I feel as if I have come a long way to get to this point, but often it looks as if I am no further from the shore than I was before. It is often frustrating, but when I pull back and look objectively, I can see the progress. Even returning to this blog is an indicator of progress, for as I have stretched myself I began to need to write it again for a bit of cognitive therapy. My mind works best when firing on all cylinders, and writing helps me to process my day.  I never did any such thing like it before my stroke, as it was something akin to keeping a diary to me, and far too identified in my generation with the realm of “girls’ things.”  But post-stroke, some sort of processing is absolutely necessary. And this blog is the medium I have chosen. For those of you who don’t know, I write this just for me, and I almost always have. Some people however are just twisted enough, or bored enough, to join me on the journey.

So anyway, I suppose all that means is this is a post that doesn’t say much of anything, yep, no progress, but that is just how I feel. 

It may be a rut, but it’s really only a temporary one. All of them are.  I need to brush my teeth, go to bed, and call it a day.  There will be time for more paddling tomorrow!

Goodnight my friends and God Bless!

Tommy+ 

Okay, granted, instead of trying to look through all my photos on my backup drive, I found the fist one that made me both laugh and smile and used it. I only hope when she sees it she will do the same. I believe she should, as she is the one who sent it to me.

But yes, this is my wife as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.  It was part of a video her team filmed as a fundraiser this year. (they won!) But as I am still buried in work, I thought this was the best solution. Plus, it is pretty clear to me that in two weeks, after I meet all the deadlines I am working toward, I will need to allow Apple to keep my month old Mac and fix it right. It is clearly not working, and I am not going to pull all my files back over from my back up only to have them erased when they have to reinstall everything again after fixing it. So this is also to say (“warn” is implied) that I will probably be using old pictures I find or new ones I take until this Mac-mess (as opposed to anything from McDonalds, which would be a McMess) is over.

So I apologize for the picture, but she is kind of cute. When I look at her, even not as Dorothy, I am reminded how others must view us, somewhat I’d imagine in a “Beauty and the Beast” sort of way. Yes, she is tall, young, smart, beautiful, and has a great heart.  And I am, of course, just me. And if I think about it, not even really me, but a constantly being rebuilt me.

Today I am walking, and my knee is stiff, but the ice helps. My knee is swollen, not due to my compliance, but to my lack of elevation and ice.  I do get to take a shower tomorrow, and that helps as I felt too much like a girl “washing off” next to the tub. But as of Monday at 10pm, I will be able to ice up and not be too worried about doing too much.  And tomorrow I can get back on the bike for some rehab. I am looking forward to it.

But in all honesty, it is kind of nice to have a swollen knee with a real excuse (surgery yesterday) rather than no excuse (just age and body abuse).  Getting older is not for the weak, and with my still pristine 12-year old mind, I think my body should still do everything.  And it will.

Because as of tomorrow, off come the bandages and into the shower I go. Then it is on with some gym shorts, a t-shirt, and some running shoes.

I intend to go after her………and her little dog too.

Goodnight my friends and God Bless!

Tommy+

This may be an old picture, but of course I asked. My Ortho asked me if I had any questions and I made sure that skating was on my list.  My meniscus wasn’t sewn up today, the part that I damaged was removed. It was a more realistic repair, and it was successful.  I am walking and swollen a bit, bit zero pain.

But his answer was of course!  So in a few weeks I intend to lace up and go rehab via what I love best, to skate. It has been way too long, as we no longer live near a rink, but it will be within weeks, as it was worrying about it that has made the urge so strong. And yes, that is Ben with me a few years back. He is scared to skate like his mom, Steph and Scotty skate like they were born on ice.

But with all my files on back up still, picture files are hard to find, plus there are so few of me as I am usually taking them.  In fact, I have no pictures of when I played other than posed team pictures. But I skate for the love of it, not for someone to see.

Today however has been a fine day. Some surgery and some good news going in and out! But for now it is bed for me, as it has been a long day too. I am thankful for Amanda and the help she has given me and to my doctor, Dr. Sexson, for always doing such a great job!

Goodnight and God Bless!

Tommy+

Well, tomorrow morning I will head into the surgery center and have my knee “repaired,” or as repaired as it can be. I had it majorly re-hauled in 1995, and now I have just a torn meniscus. My ortho said “At our age, we generally just cut the damage out.” I however will push for a sew over a cut in the morning.

But it is just another routine bump in the road of guy who used to be an athlete, and still thinks like he is, but denies the reality of a 53 year old body. For those of you who know guys, and I mean don’t speculate, but really know them, you understand just what I mean. How in the world can I ever wrap my mind around not being able to do a jumping jack when I have a guy’s mind? In a few weeks, hopefully I can not have this be an issue. But for now it is just ridiculous, as I think “come on body, don’t you know who we are??”

Anyway, it’s either stitch stitch or sew sew, and I bet it will depend upon when he is in there….it always is that way, I know.

But regardless of the method, I am reminded of the things that really matter, and I have included them in the picture. Sure, it is the same one as my Facebook profile, but I really can’t look at it enough. I’ve done well in my life, and this picture represents what it means to me to be rich.

Off to bed to get a good sleep! I hope you have had a blessed day, whether you are delusional about your body or not. Mine is pretty spectacular.

Goodnight my friends and God Bless!

Tommy+