Used to Be

I used to like posting all sorts of things on social media, and often that would include what I thought about things that were moving the needle politically in one way or another. I liked and favored what I liked and favored and that was pretty much it most of the time. Like anyone else I suppose I wanted validation my opinions were “correct” and that I wasn’t dumb for believing this or that or the other. It may be like that for other people as well. I don’t know.

At the beginning of August I had a health scare with some cardiac issues that culminated with some new medication and a stent being put in my heart. They did a cardio cath through my wrist of all places, even though they prepared my groin for a frontal assault by giving me the Ken doll treatment. Fortunately, that area was not assaulted and has returned to normal.

I, however, have not.

My priorities–both personal and social–are not the same.

Consequently, I seldom post as many things along political lines as I used to. Coming from California after the first four decades of my life has taught me quite a few things through my life experiences. Probably most evident for me has been that tolerance, like many of the streets in downtown San Diego, is a one way street. Undoubtedly, I’ll take some heat for saying that, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And that’s Ok.

I’d love it if people liked me and thought I was intelligent and erudite and clever and all that. However, life ain’t like that for the most part–not for me, anyway. But for the most part that isn’t what’s important to me anymore. I’ve been thinking about my legacy. What it is going to be and what I’d like it to be. Because here’s what’s true for me: none of the things I’ve accumulated are coming with me. I’m not going to be remembered for my book or DVD collection, or my stack of bibles.

No.

I’ll be remembered for what I left behind.

What is that? If I left today (which I do not plan to do), what would my legacy be?

As of this moment: 1121am Arizona time, a smallish and somewhat roughly treated house in the El Pueblocito neighborhood of Yuma. Quite a few hardbound and paperback books,and a few ancillary and relatively unimportant things. A Chevy Equinox. Swords and a few knives. Stuff like that.

What matters, though?

A sweet and stinky old dog. A beautiful wife I don’t even come close to deserving. Two actual legal children and a very kind and helpful sort of foster son.

What else?

I hope a lot of good memories and love for the people in my life who count, both in San Diego and Yuma. Lots of family and friends.

These people aren’t going to be thinking about my hilarious Instagram or Facebook or X posts, or at least I hope not.

What did I leave in their lives that mattered? I know what I’d like that to be. Not a turn of phrase, or a Stephen King or Tom Clancy book.

I’d want people to remember a man who loves his God, his wife and his kids in that order. A disciple and a worker last of all.

I don’t want there to be any doubt that love is important to me.

My family and friends.

God foremost.

I want to be known for that.