It's crazy how much a person relies on and loves their Mom, isn't it?  You call her when your spaghetti sauce sucks to find out why.  You call her if the kid has a fever because she always knew what to do.  You call her just to hear her voice, even if it makes you cry because it's only gonna be available for a short time.
I guess my real problem is that my Mom was this free spirit that took us to Hindu churches, that studied Wicca, that was an amazing painter and artist and that lived in a Westfalia Vdub for a year and a half, surfing up and down the California coast.  She was all these things that I always admired and respected.  She had her lows, but it's because she threw herself heartily into life.
Now, she has decided to die.  Dialysis isn't a viable option for her because of her various other health conditions, and so she is slowly getting more toxins in her blood day by day.  They say two to six months, which started a couple of months ago.
Sometimes, she's up for a chat.  Sometimes she's exhausted with the nausea, headaches, and diarrhea that come with this condition.  But she really enjoyed the idea that I would visit her one last time.  It seemed stupid to wait until she was gone.  Why?  I couldn't help but to see her and to talk about her plans now.  She always has plans you see.  She intends to be cremated so that she can forever surf the waves.  I intend to take her ashes to New Jersey because that's where she was born and it's where I've always felt the most alive, on the boardwalk.  We donned our suits and turned heads together, her and I, back in the day.  We played games and we ate ginormous pieces of pizza that only real Italians from New Jersey can produce.  She taught me the love of mobster movies, "wait, here's the horse head scene!", she would shriek in excitement.  The one thing that I think my Mom has taught me most was how to really, truly live.  Each breath, each weekend was an adventure.  She could make shopping fun.  She's just that kind of chic.  I have no doubt that she will ride the waves.  It's what she was always born to do.

    Thank you Tom.

I was working on my book, and as most of you know, it's about a little girl with AIDS and the urban family that comes to help her.  It reminded me of a moment that I had in my life that I really wanted to share with everyone because it's just uplifting.
I'm not a fan of politicians, I never have been.  So when we found out that Tom Daschle was going to be making an appearance at the AIDS house I worked at, I thought it was probably a photo opportunity or something.  We become so callous, don't we?  I guess it's because we don't often see humanity and government working together.
Anyway, my very best friend was a die hard Democrat from birth to death and he had been so excited that Tom Daschle was coming to visit.  It's unfortunate that AIDS seems to guess when your body needs health the most, and then it finds a new illness to confine you.  My poor friend was confined to his bed, and as the motorcade of special security pulled up with Tom in tow, I shook my head in sadness.
There were no photographers, there were only special security people like the ones you see in the movies.  But the man who came out was a lively man, Tom had a big smile and a handshake for everyone.  He listened to the residents that were well enough to talk to him.  He asked important questions about funding and what could be done to help the house with its goals.
At one point, I just had a gut instinct, so I said "Mr. Daschle, can I ask you for a favor?"
"Sure."  he said.
"My good friend is just a complete die hard fan of yours and of Democrats in general, but he's very ill.  Can you just poke your head in his room and say 'hi'?."
Tom Daschle wordlessly went to his room, and not only shook his hand, but sat on his bed and had a conversation.  My friend had tears of joy in his eyes.  So did the rest of us.
Perhaps Tom got run out by a bunch of conservative voters in our ridiculous state, but Tom Daschle amazed me with his humanity that day.
I don't know where you are to thank you, Tom, but I hope that you see this.  My friend has since died, but I know that in that moment, he truly lived.

So, today I walked nervously through the sunshine in my dress to meet my boss for coffee.  I had no idea what was up.  In all fairness, my boss is a basically decent guy.  But the coffee house is one in which an old flame works at.  To add to this, I quit my job and am in my last week of a month long notice.  So I walked quickly trying to figure out what it would be that he would want to say.  Was it an exit interview?  Was it so bad that we couldn't talk about it at the office?  Was I in some kind of trouble?  This was important because I still want to stay with the company to do freelance interpreting as well as the freelance writing that I do.  So it was a tense walk.
I arrived to find a welcoming atmosphere, it always is there, and a hug from the old flame.  After that I realized that my boss was behind him, awkward, but okay.  Anyway, he bought me coffee and a macaroon, like I said-he's a nice boss.  I settled in, nibbling nervously, and waiting for whatever lay ahead.
To my surprise, it was freedom.  I had worked most of my month and he would only need me one more full eight hour day.  I have been spending the last few weeks working 40-45 hours and then coming home and writing to submit my book to my agent for publication AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.  So this 48 hour stretch of time to write is like a gift. The hug from my dear friend was like sunshine.  The macaroon was one of the most divine morsels I've had the pleasure to eat.  And my boss's respect for me and my deadline was overwhelming.  It's not common that businessmen understand the need for freedom, and the need to get something done that is just for your own personal satisfaction.  I don't know if my book will sell a copy or a million.  I do know that it is a personal goal to get it done to raise awareness for people with AIDS in a way that incorporates a fun loving group of characters.  I hope that it works.
But today, as I walked back to try to finish things up at the office, I felt a sense of satisfaction and understanding from another human being that I have not felt in a long time.  Some of us need to demand our freedom, stretch our wings and see if we can fly.  Here I go!

Sometimes it's easy to get mired down by every day life.  But it's more difficult to see the good things that have happened to you and appreciate them.  Family, friends, work - all can let you down sometimes.  But only you can let life let you down.  I've always thought of life as one of those plastic clowns with the curved bottoms that you can punch and they spring back up.  There's no doubt about it, life can get challenging at times, but those times are just begging you to spring up and handle them.
It's also unimportant to be the most liked person in the world, because many of those people that are so popular rarely hold onto their own beliefs.  They are so busy pleasing others that they lose themselves.  Perhaps it's best to see life as a continual process of being the best YOU that you can be.  If you let others down, sure that can make you sad.  If you let yourself down, that can cripple you for life.  It's an ongoing mental decay that you see in many older people that never truly learned how to live.  The older people that I like are the opinionated ones, because they have the courage to be themselves.  We don't always agree, but we each try to state our opinions in a respectful way, because we will differ.  Understanding those differences and moving on with your life in your own way is the key.  Not trying to understand differences and being dogmatic is what usually leads to wars.  Verbal wars, physical wars and world wars; all cause damages that cannot be repaired.
Be the main character in your own novel, take possession and never let go.  It truly is your life.  No dress rehearsals allowed, you are center stage.  Get over the stage fright, over an mishaps and enjoy the occasional applause.