A great mind in an uncooperative body

I opened my computer and saw where we’ve lost one of the great minds of all times. Stephen Hawking passed away at 76. Not only was he remarkable because of his intellect, but he was able to fight off ALS for 55 years after being diagnosed with the disease which usually proves fatal within 2 years of being diagnosed. Maybe he just outsmarted it.

My advice to other disabled people would be, concentrate on things your disability doesn’t prevent you doing well, and don’t regret the things it interferes with. Don’t be disabled in spirit, as well as physically. -Stephen Hawking

Memories, Bedlam, A Victory Lap, and Closure

Those hands…


Last week was exhausting mentally, physically, and spiritually, and I’ll bet I lost 5 lbs. through my tear ducts and another 55 lbs. from exercising my smile muscles. If you saw me, however, you wouldn’t be able to tell because of all the good food I ate which had been prepared by neighbors, good Southern Baptist women, and  The Lake (the restaurant at the local resort, Lake Tiak O’khata).
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Beloved Book Club

On most Sunday nights, my neighbor from across the street rides to church with me in Jackson where our small Episcopal mission meets in a space sectioned off from an old furniture warehouse a few blocks from the Old Capitol Museum. Most nights it’s just us, her son whom she drops off earlier in the afternoon for the youth meeting, and Father Chuck, our vicar. After finishing a six-month-long study of the book of Mark, we spent the last few weeks just talking about whatever was on our minds. The lack of direction tended to lead to rambling, but I really enjoyed listening to the other three debate whatever topic because their combined intelligence is through the roof. I feel like a complete dunderpate while listening to them.

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Due to miscommunication through no fault of my own, one of the prescriptions I take daily was not refilled last week, and today was day 5 of me not having it.



Withdrawal sucks very much bad.


In lieu of a prescription for the drug I’ve been deprived of, I’d be appreciative of a big bag of cocaine and some instructions on how to smoke it or a merciful euthanization shot. Help!

The old comfortable

Saturday, I turn 40 and get to spend the evening with some of the childhood friends that populate the memories floating through my daydreams. Right now, I’m smiling as I think of the conversations I’ve had recently while planning this get together. The voices on the other end of the phone are different and so are some of our waistlines, I’d imagine, but somewhere in our cores, there are still the same kids from school, church, birthday parties, and sleepovers. Here’s to being a kid again even if for just one night.


I just spent a long time writing my first blog post in a while where I ranted for about 1500 words, and the words were flying from my fingertips like flies from a hog farm. The prose was pure genius as I lambasted my target. Then, I got 3/5ths of the way through a brilliant closing paragraph when I stopped and re-read what I’d just written, and it hit me… Dammit, Robbie! You’re being an old jackass and you don’t need to let everybody else know that.

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The Day I Accidentally Covered Up A Tiny Bit of My White Privilege

The past few days, I’ve been mulling over what to write, and my thoughts always returned to the tragedy at Charlottesville. I couldn’t quite figure out what to say, and this evening, I was flicking down my Facebook feed when I saw my neighbor, Kim Tarver, posted something profound on the subject.  Now, with her permission, I am reposting her words here. 

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Those pesky kids…

In vino veritas…

I was having a progressively deeper conversation with a buddy the other night at $3 beer night at the local minor league ballpark. As we doled out solutions to most of the world’s problems, the subject came up of how kids view others who are different from themselves whether it be a physical, mental, or learning disability, socioeconomic status, or what have you.

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