The End

If the Mayan calendar is to be believed, then the whole world will end on December 21, 2012. I call "Bullshit!" on yet another global hoax. What will end, however, is my Fall '12 semester's ENGL 215: Intro to Article Writing course at Penn State Abington. It's been a fun 15 weeks, but all good things must come to an end.

Time to rest, relax, and recharge the batteries in preparation for what will likely be a grueling Spring 2013 semester. But for now and the next few days, I plan to party like it's December 20, 2012! Woo-hoo!

~Andrew K.

Achieving Better Control, Part II

Saturday, December 15, 2012
Today was the second day of my diabetes educational class at Grand View Hospital. This session basically covered dietary aspects. Unfortunately, there was not enough comprehensive nutritional information discussed. The registered dietitian who conducted the class tried to keep things simple. If any of us who attended this session wanted more dietary data, we would have to register for another class that will offer such things "grocery shopping lists for diabetics" and what to look for when at the supermarket. This is the information I need, so looks like I will be attending those classes when they become available. Fortunately, my insurance pays for it.

As for today's class, here is a synopsis of what was covered:

• Sugar is not poison. In other words, sugar in food is not the reason for being diagnosed diabetic. However, one's diet should try to limit the amount of sugar.
• Need a better selection of food based on the need to fuel your body. Think of food as fuel, not just a substance for stuffing one's face.
• Amount of carbohydrates: less is best or eat with protein.
• When broken down to their basic components, carbohydrates turn to glucose in the blood; protein turns to amino acids; fat turns to cholesterol, LDL, triglycerides, etc.
• Portions are important
• Losing weight and burning fat will help control blood sugars (this means that exercise is an integral part of diabetes management, because diet alone is not enough).
• Exercise must be done in extended duration and change whenever a plateau is reached. Walking is better than running. Twenty or more minutes of physical activity is required to start burning body fat. And learning to "train" the body, not "strain" it with exercise is the best method.
• To avoid the complications of advanced Type 2 diabetes, it is vital to lower blood sugar levels to lessen or help prevent diabetic neuropathy (nerve damage).

Fiber is a key nutrient in foods. Getting 3 or more grams of fiber per serving will greatly benefit the body, not just in terms of diabetes, but also in helping lower fat levels. Foods that are rich in fiber include:

• Soluble fiber: oat bran, dried beans, dried peas, lentils, fruits
• Insoluble fiber: wheat bran, whole grains, fresh fruits, vegetables

Protein is an emergency fuel source for the body. The primary fuel source is actually carbohydrates, but it is managing these carbs that is essential for diabetics to lead a healthy life. Vitamins do not provide fuel, but they can be thought of as the "spark plugs" in the body's engine. Vitamins should be taken with food, but are not needed if eating a well-balanced meal. Eating moderately, but having a variety of foods is important to get different nutrients. In other words, don't eat the same food every day, even if it is healthy and good for you.

Basic principles of good nutrition:

• eat a variety of foods
• balance food with physical activity
• eat less fatty foods
• eat more foods with high fiber content
• eat/drink less sugar (water is best, unsweetened tea is also good)
• eat less salt and sodium
• only drink alcohol moderately (or no alcohol at all), because alcohol is pure calories with absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever

Food labels and Nutrition Facts

• 30% or less fat from calories per food item
• 2,000 mg or less per day of sodium in food for those on antihypertensive medication
• 5 g of dietary fiber (or more) needed to subtract number from total carbs

One of the more interesting things I learned is that between the three types of salad dressing, Hidden Valley Original Ranch, Hidden Valley Lite Ranch, and Hidden Valley Fat-Free Ranch, the better one to have with salad---if I must have ranch dressing with my salad---is the original ranch. The reason is simple: As fat content is reduced in salad dressings, the amount of sugar goes up. So by comparing two tablespoons per serving, the Original Ranch has 2 g carbs, the Lite Ranch has 3 g carbs, and the Fat-Free has 6 g carbs. Clearly, for a diabetic, the Fat-Free with higher carb and sugar levels is the worse choice. However, if I'm having the Original Ranch, I must keep my portions limited. In other words, don't drench my salad with too much ranch dressing. Honestly, I liked the Original Ranch better anyways.

The third and final session will cover exercise and stress management. Looking forward to that class as well.

~Andrew K.

Achieving Better Control

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Today was the first day of my diabetes educational class at Grand View Hospital. It was a very informative class, the first of three. Basically, it was an introduction to the different types of diabetes and how they affect the human body. A booklet with very useful advice and instructions was given to every member who attended. Since the course is paid for by health insurance, each member also received the new Accu-Chek Nano glucose monitoring kit, the portable version which is said to be the most accurate on the market.

The course began with everyone speaking about their background and why they were taking this class. I told them my brief story. I had been diagnosed as "pre-diabetic" for about two years by my doctor, but I never fully understood or took seriously my condition. I kept eating the same junk and not exercising, while my body and health steadily declined. I told the dietitian, who was the class instructor, that my paternal grandfather, Andreas, had died from advanced stage type 2 diabetes. He had lost his eyesight, had one leg amputated, then the other. My grandmother, Theodora, his wife, had to lift him into the tub to give him a bath. She once told me that she didn't mind his blindness, but when he lost his legs, it became more difficult to help him. I told everyone in the room, now that I'm married, I cannot become such a burden to my wife, so I want to learn as much as I can to prevent diabetes from negatively altering my life forever.

So, now I await the second class to be held next Saturday. In the second class, we will discuss diet and food choices as well as how, when, and how much to eat. Apparently, it's not always what you eat, but the size of the portions. As the dietitian mentioned in the first class today, we should be eating "more of the best, less of the rest." That is to say, if you want a burger and fries, go ahead and have them, but be mindful of portions and don't eat them every single day. Load up on fruits and veggies, but limit your consumption of carbs and fats, especially sugars---sucrose, fructose, and lactose. I am sure much more will be discussed at the next session and the main reason I'm taking this course is to learn about the dietary aspects.

I mean, let's face it, I'm a picky eater who eats like a fast-food slob. If I'm going to beat diabetes, I have to turn my life around and eat more healthy foods, exercise more often, and manage stress better. Thank God, at least I have my wife to support me and make sure I stick to the game plan.

Diabetes, you haven't conquered me yet!

~Andrew K.

Teary-Eyed Movie Moments

'Tis the season for emotional manipulation...fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la! Okay, I admit. There are moments in movies that make me teary-eyed. For example, when Yoda passes away in Return of the Jedi. There...is...ah-nuth-er...Skyyyyy-wah-ker... aww, little green dude, don't die! So yes, I'm admitting to non-verbal weeping sessions after viewing sensitive, tear-jerking scenes in films. I have in mind two movies that contain scenes which set off the waterworks for me.

Scrooge

The first movie can be considered a musical. It stars one of my favorite actors, Albert Finney, in the title role. It's simply called "Scrooge." Normally, I don't like musicals. In fact, I hate them. When people break out into singing, it doesn't seem natural to me. I'm sure there are classic musicals that have been considered masterpieces, but I find nothing entertaining about musicals---that is to say, until I viewed Scrooge the first few times.

The acting is really superb, especially from the little boy who plays Tiny Tim (actor Richard Beaumont). In a scene where the Ghost of Christmas Present (an absolutely inspiring and memorable performance by the actor who played the role, Kenneth More) takes pajama-clad Scrooge to spy on the financially-struggling Cratchit family, Tiny Tim is encouraged to sing by his mom and sisters. Standing on a chair, he begins to sing in an angelic, choir-like voice:

On a beautiful day that I dream about

In a world I would love to see

Is a beautiful place where the sun comes out

And it shines in the sky for me

On this beautiful winter's morning

If my wish could come true somehow

Then the beautiful day that I dream about

Would be here and now

What makes this song especially sad is during a later scene, when Scrooge is visited by the Ghost of Christmas Future, Bob Cratchit is seen kneeling at Tiny Tim's grave and you can hear the song being sung again lightly in the background. One phrase sums up the experience: purely heart-wrenching. If you're a man with a son or a man who has fatherly instincts and this song or scene does not make you crack a tear, then you're inhuman.

Iphigenia

The second movie is a foreign film (Greek) and simply called "Iphigenia." It was directed by Michael Cacoyannis and is basically his artistic vision of Euripides' play "Iphigenia at Aulis." I first viewed a portion of this film when it was shown in The Concepts of Tragedy course at Penn State University under the tutelage of Dr. Mistichelli. I was perhaps the only one in the class at the time who didn't need to read the subtitles, and believe me, the subtitles didn't do the movie justice as you really need to listen to the actress who played the title role (Tatiana Papamoschou). The last 30 minutes of the film are the most powerful, when Iphigenia must be sacrificed by her father Agamemnon so that her spirit is released in a gust of wind that will help the Greek warrior sail to Troy and return Helen. Irene Papas plays Iphigenia's mother, Clytaemnestra, who pleads they spare her daughter. But the deed must be done. At first, Iphigenia does not want to die and acts like a typically frightened child. Yet, when she thinks about her fate, she changes. She insists she must be sacrificed, to appease the bloodthirsty Greek warriors who want to wage war against Troy. In her one brave moment of accepting her fate, she showed more "manliness" than all the men around her and was more heroic than any of the so-called "heroes" of her father's army. Her speech---spoken in native Greek---was so moving and powerful, I wept like a baby.

I later discovered more info about the film from Dr. Mistichelli and eventually bought a copy on DVD. This is a must-own film. The last thirty minutes are too powerful to be missed. Iphigenia's courage is awe-inspiring.

So go out and rent these movies. Have a good cry. 'Tis the season for it...

~Andrew K.

To F-----

So, what am I suppose to do now? You're gone. It's been what---four, almost five years now? You left one week before my birthday. Remember? Of course you don't. You no longer have a memory. It is gone, along with you. But it's not the first time you left. Remember? It was a long time ago. We had our chat about it in the car ride up to your place in the mountains. I wept rivers that night while you squeezed the steering wheel and took long-drawn puffs from your Peter Stuyvesant brand cigarette. You weren't in front of a firing squad, just me. It was time to confess your sins, but you remained quiet. Stoic? Perhaps, but I don't give you that much credit. You just wanted to be a man about it. I spoke of you and her---how you both had your problems and how the two of you didn't mix well. I imagined it must have been like olive oil and water in a carafe. Remember? I certainly do. I can't forget, especially the sight of you---stretched out in your dining room/kitchen area with the hardwood-panel ceiling. Were you comfortable on that makeshift bed? You looked gnarled, like a branch of driftwood. I went to touch you, try and hug you, but people told me not to. I did not realize you had bleeding sores on your back. I knew our time together was limited, but did you have to go while I was taking the Pullman bus ride up north? I heard you left. You smoked your last five cigarettes, then departed. I could not accompany you on that skybound trip. Perhaps I will someday, but that day, you had to travel alone. I will miss you terribly. I do miss you. I regret all the days and moments over those six years we didn't speak and how we will never have that lost time back again to bond. I love you. I will carry on your legacy. But all that remains of you now are a few faded photographs. Fortunately, I still have the video that I took of you in better times. At least I can hear your voice---cursing and swearing like a drunken sailor and telling me to check out the asses of the girls passing by. Thanks for calling me a "flying cucumber" and especially a "lousy cocksucker," though I always had to correct you and assert that I was actually a very good "pussy-licker." Thanks for making me laugh and for the advice I will never use. I wish we had more time to talk. Just a few more words before you left. At least we had a chance to forgive each other. You are still alive to me, even if you are not.

~Andrew K.

To M-----

At what age do parents stop treating their children as children and start treating them as adults? I don't think the perception of the parent ever changes. The kid---no matter what age---will always be the parent's baby. At a young age, that actually benefits the child, but I think that a parent should change to be more like a friend when the child becomes an adult. No more "look both ways before you cross the street" type of daily advice. Just speak normally. Cut the "parent talk." Be a human being and let me know what is on your mind. Don't sit there and measure every word before you speak it---concerned because I might be negatively influenced by the language you use. Say it. It's okay. Say "fuck" or "shit" and let rip on "those damn bastards who cut me off when I was driving home"! Just be natural, but most of all, be yourself. I'm no longer a child. I am the adult you raised me to be. Remember? I never touched illicit drugs, never scarred my body with any of those nasty tattoos, never smoked or drank like an addict, never hung out with the wrong crowd---and if I did, they quickly became "ex-friends." So why do you still speak to me like I'm still a kid? Do you think I haven't learned all the lessons you taught me? I have. Now I just want you to talk to me on the same level. I don't know. Perhaps you don't want to admit to the passage of time. You're older now and I'm older. Our roles in life are quickly reversing and, someday, I will have to take care of you, when you become frail and helpless, like a newborn baby. But don't worry, I'll be there for you just like you were there for me all those years. We're family, after all. And I love you.

~Andrew K.

My Bucket List

Everyone has it. A list of things to do or accomplish before he or she kicks the proverbial bucket. This bucket list usually comprises things that we dream of doing, but for whatever reason, have not done in our lives. Perhaps knowing that our lives in this world as we know are is not eternal, we decide to tick off---one by one---each item from the list. Whether we complete the list or not isn't the point. It is acknowledging the things that make us feel alive or give our lives meaning. To do those things on our bucket list brings us closer to a life well-lived. So, the following bucket list contains (in no particular order) some of the I things that I wish to do before dying and leaving this mortal coil.

1. Skydive

Skydiving is perhaps one of the most common and often cited bucket list items, but as far as exhilarating hobbies go, this is one experience that cannot be topped or duplicated. Not even the scariest rollercoaster ride can compare to the feeling of jumping out of an airplane.

2. Run with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain

If you know you're going to die soon, might as well grab the bull by the horns and enjoy your last moments on earth by having the shit scared out of you in a race down a narrow Spanish street closely followed by raging bulls looking to impale foolish tourists.

3. Dine on sumptuous, but forbidden foods

It sucks that, because of my diabetes, I cannot enjoy a hand-tossed, NY-style pizza oozing with mozzarella cheese or chomp down on a fat, juicy Texas burger or even eat some warm, freshly-baked Italian bread straight from the oven. Gotta have one last taste of the forbidden foods before I go.

4. Write an acclaimed, best-selling fiction novel

I want to be acknowledged for my writing. Maybe I could even have my book turned into a top-grossing movie. I want to write a fantasy piece that is a cross between Tolkein's The Lord of the Rings and Homer's The Odyssey. Becoming rich off the merchandizing potential wouldn't be so bad either.

5. Star in a televised comedy show

Specifically, that would be a British comedy show. I could play any character. My wit could fit any role. I was thinking more of a classic sketch comedy show, like Monty Python or Benny Hill. And whatever role or character I played, I would want it to become a hit with comedy fans. That would be my legacy.

6. Make love to a busty, Japanese model

Some names come to mind, but I'm not picky. This Asian fetish has to be satiated somehow. Either that or I really must alter my online viewing habits. Hee-hee, of course I'm kidding, my beautiful Filipina wife! I love you and this bucket list item is just for shock value---there's absolutely no truth behind it. I swear!

7. Find a yeti, get abducted by a UFO, see a ghost, etc.

Honestly, I'm getting really tired of reading about all these paranormal or extraterrestrial events happening without me being witness to any of them. Granted, they're probably not true, but if they are---heck, I want to experience at least one of them! Beam me up, Scotty!

That's all. Hopefully, I don't kick the bucket for many years and have plenty of time to complete these items.

~Andrew K.

Forever Stamps and The Letter Exchange

How long have you been mailing letters or cards for special occasions? Years, right? You would walk or travel to your local post office and buy a booklet of current rate first-class postage stamps. Tear one off, lick the back, stick it on the top right corner of your envelope and---voila! Your letter or card was ready to be delivered. Sometimes you'd wonder if you had the correct postage amount. Was it 30 or 40 cents? You weren't quite sure so why not just stick another one on there. After all, the postage cost is so cheap, right? Mailing a letter or card for under $1 seems like a bargain. Well, I guess it is. If you need the physical item, sure---you need to mail it. But if the message within the letter is the key, then E-MAILing it seems more appropriate and cheaper.

Then came the FOREVER stamps. Stamps for people who were never sure just how much the current postal rate was for a first-class stamp. Just buy a Forever Stamp and you never have to worry again. Your letter or card will automatically be accepted at the current rate. And it seems the FOREVER stamp is here to stay. I recently went to deliver some Christmas cards and I was told if they had anything other than Forever stamps. "Nope, they're all Forever stamps now," I was told by the female postal worker behind the counter. I guess that's good. Not sure what to make of it. I do like that all the stamps now are self-adhesive. I hated licking those older stamps. Just think of the diseases other people's saliva spread via envelope. And, there was a study done, someone discovered that licking the back of one postage stamp with glue earned you 1 calorie. One calorie for licking a stamp? How many points is that on WeightWatcher's Point System? But I digress.

Before e-mail became the most popular form of formal communication (before Facebook or Twitter), I was a member of a letter-writing club called The Letter Exchange. Basically, you would sign on as an anonymous member with a 5-digit "LEX" number and pay a very small fee to have your little blurb published in a thrice-yearly periodical also called The Letter Exchange. Someone, usually another member, would see your little blurb and send you a pen-pal-style letter to The Letter Exchange headquarters and they would forward your letter to the LEX number (name and address) in the system. This way, privacy was protected. If the person liked the letter or message, then they could respond directly or send another message back through The Letter Exchange with that person's LEX number. It was a different and unique way to connect with pen pals. Unfortunately, with the Internet exploding in popularity and the majority of households now owning computers and using e-mail increasing, the reality of The Letter Exchange was that it became less popular. Only older, die-hard members still remain, keeping the business and art form alive---like a dinosaur on a respirator. Younger LEX members and those interested in quicker response times (e-mail trouncing snail mail) became online users as they discovered the ease, quickness, convenience, and cost-savings of searching for "pen pals" online.

With the availability of chat rooms, Craigslist, MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, blogs, and other various online resources for meeting people (especially dating websites like PlentyofFish.com), it seems the art of letter writing and the need for first-class postage stamps (that won't last "forever") has faded into a bygone era---a quaint, old-fashioned time before the mighty computer and Internet became the king of all media.

~Andrew K.

Reality TV Shows

Reality television shows have received a bad reputation over the years. The reason why is simple. There is little to no writing behind these shows. Most of the show concepts are either dumb or make the viewers feel stupid just by watching them. Studio executives are not willing to pay for expensive screenwriters or story planners to come up with new program ideas and to write new content on a weekly basis. For this reason, reality TV shows are cheap to make and produce. Advertisers are still charged the same amount based on the length or popularity of the program, but now, the profit margin is larger for the studio execs. But are all reality TV shows really that bad? I don't think so.

There are two benefits to watching reality TV shows:

1. You may actually learn something.
2. You have instant company in a conversational manner.

History Channel on satellite TV has some of the more interesting reality TV shows, such as Pawn Stars, American Pickers, American Restoration, et al. With a show like Pawn Stars, you can learn the tips and tricks of bartering--a skill essential to pawning or selling one's goods. If the exchange of money doesn't interest you, then the history behind each rare or unique item brought in to the Gold & Silver pawn shop should pique your curiosity. It is entertaining and informative mainly due to the researchers who provide the taglines of historical trivia or the experts who appear on the show--from antique gun collectors to forensic signature specialists, there is always someone who knows the story behind each item.

A reality TV show like Ink Master is slightly different. First of all, the show is a competition, much like American Idol or America's Got Talent with the exception that these are professional tattoo artists who seek national fame by winning this competition. For some people, tattoos are considered art; for others, tattoos are simply ink stains upon the human skin. I fall into the latter category.

I never liked tattoos, an attitude passed down to me by my father. One time when I was visiting him in Greece, I bought a small pack of gum that contained a water tattoo of a dolphin. I liked the design, so I wet my upper arm with some saliva and stuck the water tattoo on it. A few seconds of pressure and my dolphin tattoo appeared. No harm, because water tattoos can wash off. But when my father saw it on my arm, he was so outraged that he made me take it off right away. He told me that he would disown me as his son if he ever caught me with a real tattoo. That put the fear in me. I never liked tattoos ever since then.

I still wouldn't get one even though he has passed away and I no longer seek his advice or approval for anything. But seeing these tattoo artists struggle to ply their trade on a reality TV show competition makes me appreciate their art. If it was not put on human skin, I have to admit that these tattoo artists have some real talent--just wish they would put more of it on paper than on a person.

The second point in favor of reality TV shows are their conversation manner, which provides artificial companionship for lonely people stuck at home. You listen to the show's main star or expert--the host of the show's concept--and find yourself almost having a one-sided conversation. Of course, you learn something from the host in the process, but you also feel like someone is there in the room with you, keeping you company.

Take a show like Bar Rescue. A program dedicated to turning around unsuccessful bars and pubs. They even helped Downey's on South Street in Philadelpha--the first hint to me that this was a real show. Not only is it informative and entertaining, but it is also like being at the bar with old friends. Granted, you have to get past Jon Taffer's angry yelling at the bar owners, but you get the familiar feeling of being there when the bar is full after a relaunch. And if you don't get that feeling, then you certainly want to get up off the couch and visit your local bar for some friendly conversation and beers.

The show also has some eye candy for the male viewers. Recent episodes have showcased bars with waitresses clad only in tiny bikinis or other revealing outfits. (The pirate-themed bar episode with the buxom wenches immediately comes to mind.) The sexy, jiggling bodies of the waitresses provide the lonely male viewers with some titilation and another form of artificial companionship. Of course, these types of episodes are done mainly for television rating or to help a struggling reality TV show get approval from studio execs to avoid being axed from next season's program line-up. Not sure if we will see more new episodes of Bar Rescue on Spike TV, but there is no shortage of reality TV shows that provide their audience with informative and entertaining visual delights.

~Andrew K.

Remembering the Cypress Tree

There are places in one's life that are imprinted in the mind and cannot escape memory. These places could be a childhood home, a playground shared with friends, a school where one learned many lessons in life, a vacation spot where sordid adventures happened, or even a cemetery where one laid his father to rest eternally.

A view of the Greek village of Sesklo.

In a remote mountain village in Greece called "Sesklo," where there sits upon the serene hillsides of this agricultural paradise, a small church and cemetery dedicated to Saint Christopher. Only a handful of graves take up what little reserved space is left near the church. It is a forgotten place. Even the Sesklo villagers hardly ever visit their departed loved ones in the small cemetery. That is how Greeks deal with life. They live for the moment, mourn briefly the past, and always push toward the future. But in pushing toward the future, how many have forgotten the past?

It was in Saint Christopher's cemetery that my father was laid to rest back in May 2008, just over four years ago. I still think of him often. I remember the place. Is four years enough to mourn a deceased father? Does it ever end? Or do the melancholy memories reside in the mind until it comes my time to depart this mortal coil? Whatever the case, I cannot forget that day when my father's coffin was lowered into the ground.

A Greek Orthodox Priest

The Greek Orthodox priest was there, fulfilling his clerical duties by reciting last rites---though his yawning disconcerted me. I guess for him, it was just another burial of a local villager. But to me, this was my father. I only have (or had) one in this life of mine. I looked around at my family gathered. Those who were nearest to the grave picked up some lose dirt and threw a few fistfuls into the grave and on top of the coffin. Not sure what this symbolized, but I did the same while tears poured from my eyes like Stygian rivers flowing through Hades. I could not control the outpouring of my emotions.

I tried to show some decorum. I tried to be manly, like my father---who never wept, except for that one moment on his deathbed when he found out (back then) that I was not married (at the time) and he would not live to see a grandchild. I should say, not live to see a "grandson," because that is what he wanted in the end. A grandson named after him, as is the Greek tradition, naming the first son after the grandfather. But he did not live to be a grandfather. He did not live to be much of a father either. But I wept his loss as if it was me leaving this world.


A view of the bell tower of Saint Christopher's Greek Orthodox Church in Sesklo

I will always remember Saint Christopher's cemetery. I will always remember as everyone left my father's grave to return to their cars, how I staggered behind and could not leave. I waited there, underneath a cypress tree, watching the gravedigger shoveling more dry rocky dirt on top of my father's coffin.

It was underneath the lone cypress tree that I buckled. I was on my knees crying with a knotted pain in my gut. I could not leave him there. I cried out to my father who was no longer there---I could not leave him. I could not leave the man who I called "dad" all my life, though he found it easy to leave me and my mother many years ago. It was in his blood. He had to court women. Even then, with his body in repose and given back to the welcoming earth, I still imagined his womanizing soul was in a hurry to arrive in Heaven so that he could skirt-chase some sexy, slender seraphs. I guess that was his way. After all, he was a Kamateros.

~Andrew K.

Black Friday

Black Friday. Not just the day after Thanksgiving, but the day when a nationwide shopping frenzy begins. The one day of the year when retailers can move large quantities of their commercial goods to an unsuspecting consumer populace lulled into a buying trance by the previous night's dining--a large dosage of tryptophan. Yes, that's one of the behaviorial side effects of gluttonously stuffing our faces with turkey on that one Thursday night in late November. We become shopaholics. Lining up like lemmings outside big box stores waiting break through the doors and salivate over merchandise that--give or take a few items--would not benefit our lives if we happened to possess them. But our faculties are incapacitated by big signs promising large savings. We drink up what we see displayed in the storefronts. We become drunken dancers dancing to the delight of department stores. Commercialism at its finest.

We are fools. Fools for spending our hard-earned money on more needless crap in our lives. Do we really need that 90-inch LED TV with the latest 3D technology? Our smaller sets do just fine in entertaining us. Do we really need that expensive sportscar with the large red bow on top? Our smaller rust-bucket sedans do just fine in ferrying us from home to work and back again. Do we really need to buy our children the latest fad toys for Christmas when we know darn well that kids take care of them inversely proportionate to their cost. In other words, the more expensive the toy, then the more likely it will be savagely damaged and flippantly discarded by December 26.

Avoid it. For once in your life, just don't bother with Black Friday. It's a single day on the calendar as meaningless as Groundhog's Day. It's a time-consuming, energy-expending, money-wasting, emotionally-draining day much like Valentine's Day that leaves us bitter than when we first started. It's true, the notion of Black Friday as a national get-out-of-the-red holiday only pops up in the minds of retailers much like Halloween is seen as the mass-consumption candy manufacturers' one day out of the year for overcoming the disapproval of health-conscious parents to peddle their stale, sugary sweet concoctions and rot the teeth of millions of minor minions.

Don't shop. Don't go out Friday. Stay home. Keep your wallet fat and happy. The more money you save (and really "save"---not "save by spending" as retailers would have you believe), the better able you'll be to manage your personal finances. You don't need to buy any of the crap they're selling you. It's cheap quality, it's constructed of plastic, and it's probably made in China. Keep our precious, priceless, devalued dollars in the United States.

~Andrew K.

Skyfall

Having just returned from a late-night showing of the new James Bond film Skyfall, I felt the need to write a brief review and comment on the changing nature of the leading man.

Bond, James Bond---has always been a stalwart figure of male masculinity and the hero who refuses to die. Since the first movies starring Sean Connery in the title role to the new incarnation played by Daniel Craig, I have to wonder what has happened to Bond.

I understand that the times changes. Just look at the technology showcased throughout the Bond franchise. Each successive film pushes the limits of tech advances that when you view an older movie, you have a laugh at how antiquated the old tech now seems. A cassette recorder was state-of-the-art in the 1980's, then CDs took over the 1990's, now we have in Bond movies other microchip technology that makes the mind boggle. So as technology advances and changes for the better, does that mean that Bond must also change?

No. James Bond is one of those quintessential figures in modern-day mythology that is so rooted in the male psyche that changing the nature of Bond will cause a worldwide collapse in male self-esteem. Bond is an archetype. He is the smooth, suave hero who wins at all costs and gets the girl in the process. We admire him for his steadfast self-confidence, for his unwavering principles to crown and country, and for his sophisticated sense of style and manner. Men wish they could be him. Women wish they could have him. The hero out to protect us all even at his own peril. But a new picture of Bond is slowly emerging.

Daniel Craig has promised to breathe new life into the 007 character and reinvigorate the Bond franchise. He certainly accomplished that with his first outting as Bond in the film Casino Royale, but we see an even more different Bond in Skyfall. Perhaps it is the plot that makes this Bond seem tired and old. You almost got the sense that he needed to pause and pop a little blue pill before he bedded the latest lovely lady who crossed his path. Grumpy and aching seem to suit this Bond. What happened to all that superhuman stamina and drive, Mr. Bond? Craig made Bond look really old in Skyfall. It was sad to see this portrayal only because you sense that Bond has gone down a road from where he cannot return.

Make no mistake, there will be other Bond films. There will even be other actors--perhaps men far more capable than Daniel Craig--who will capture the essence behind the man known simply as 007. There will be better plots, I imagine, that will no longer focus on the U.S.S.R. or former KGB spies or anyone associated with Communism or rogue agents or megalomaniacal maniacs bent on world domination. The 1980's are long gone and the Red Scare is no more. We can thank President Ronald Reagan for that. But what of James Bond and Great Britain? It's entirely possible that Bond may himself become a comrade seeing as how politics in the U.S. and the U.K. have shifted decidedly towards Leftist ideology. Imagine a politically correct Bond who fights for the environment instead of country, who battles global warming instead of bad guys. Or imagine a Bond whose allegiance is to Mother Earth rather than to the Queen of England. So much for being a quintessential macho man! Please turn in your pistol and codpiece as your license to manhood has been revoked. By turning Leftist, Bond will become the same kind of male pussies who voted for Obama, an empty suit who fancies himself a sophisticated statesman.

Whatever the case, it is clear that real-world forces are changing Bond and for the worse. He seems almost like a cartoon version of himself. References throughout Skyfall to past James Bond greatness, such as the iconic Aston Martin four-wheeler, fell short. They just served to contrast the old Bonds who had class with the new Bond who seems devoid of real machismo, but Craig tries to convince us otherwise with very good acting. Whether 007 has to adapt to survive remains to be seen. The world has new villains now, Mr. Bond. Will you rise to the challenge? I'm sure you'll get a rise out of that sexy, shapely, red dress. You always had a weakness for the ladies. Thanks for the memories of former great men who portrayed James Bond. Sorry, Daniel Craig, but your latest characterization of our iconic 007 has left us shaken, not stirred.

Skyfall is a skyfail.

~Andrew K.

Thanksgiving and Diabetes

What would Thanksgiving be like without juicy, slow-roasted turkey? What would hungry people eat as their main meal? Would they still serve homemade mashed potatoes like mom makes? Would there still be stuffing without a big roasted bird? Would people open old rusty cans of processed cranberry jelly? Would there be any mouth-watering pumpkin pie? Would there be any freshly baked dinner rolls to dip in the overflowing rivers of gravy? Would there even be Thanksgiving without all this food to feast upon? Quite simply, yes.

Yes, there would be a Thanksgiving. No, I'm not alluding to the historical reason behind this gluttonous feast disguised as a holiday. I'm not even bringing faith and religion into this discussion, whether we should be thankful to God for providing us all these wondrous blessings. Of course, we should be thankful to God. But, I'm being picky here. A turkey. Why? I know. Some people don't like turkey, so they feast on chicken or ham. Vegetarians--and who really gives a flying fuck about them--would probably nosh on some dead dried leaves and sing hyms to Gaia to celebrate their pathetic existence. Nah, it's just the turkey I'm focused on.

So, let me think about it. A big turkey. Big enough to feed a good-sized family. Throw in some side dishes and you have a feast. It's not a chicken, because even the largest chicken doesn't contain enough meat for a big family. Ham--well, let's face it, no one really likes ham--is like the Thanksgiving fruitcake. You give a can of Danish ham to your Jewish or Muslim neighbors for Thanksgiving while not realizing your grave faux pas. Seriously, does anyone really eat ham for Thanksgiving? I guess there are a few folks out there. Pussies!

I can eat turkey. Turkey doesn't have carbohydrates. Carbohydrates are bad. No wait, they're REALLY BAD, especially for me! You see, I was recently diagnosed by my general practice physician as being--not "pre-diabetic"--but full blown diabetic. I'm fortunate in a sense that I don't need insulin shots just yet, but I'm going to need meds, probably starting soon, because diet has not helped me.

I love bread. I pasta. I love pizza. I love french fries. I love all starchy and fatty foods. I love everything that Dr. Atkins' corpse hates! Yeah, he's dead. Good riddance! How dare that deceased health expert bring "carbohydrates" to my attention and make it a dirty word in my nutritional dictionary! Figs! Fuck! Shit...

I'm diabetic.

My paternal grandfather died from advanced stage diabetes. He first lost his eyesight, then had one leg amputated, followed by the other. He took daily insulin shots with what could only be described as a hideously large "horse needle" every morning. He lived the final years of his life with a smile and a cheery personality that reflected how he lived life before succumbing to diabetes. I don't think I can be like my grandfather. I know I will be bitter if I have to change my diet and eat grass for the rest of my days. I hate it.

I hate being diabetic.

But, fuck it, I'm going to splurge BIG TIME this Thanksgiving! You better believe it. That's why I am thankful for the turkey--thankful that my favorite tasty meats don't have those shitty carbohydrates. At least I can eat meat. I will live off of delicious meat. I will hunt down meat like a starving zombie. I'm diabetic, but I'm not going to let it stop me from enjoying some of my favorite foods...

...even if it kills me.

~Andrew K.

Mary's Blog

This blog post is for Mary.

Saint Sophia Greek Orthodox Church

Mary, I met you at Saint Sophia's Greek Orthodox Church this past Sunday (Nov. 18, 2012). You sat in one of the back pews near me and my wife Ellaine. We didn't really speak or notice each other until after the church services had ended and we were walking out. You had stopped to speak to my grandma Victoria. Her English was as good as your Greek. I saw both of you trying to talk and, when I walked over, you engaged me in conversation.

I listened to you, Mary. Something so simple, yet so dear to you. You told me that you had 8 adult children and not one of them bothered to call or contact you. Your husband was a Greek doctor. He died at some point, but you didn't tell me from what. Your right arm was trembling terribly and it was hard for me to ignore. You told me that you are suffering from Lyme's Disease due to being bitten by either a white mouse or a tick from a mouse. I don't remember exactly what you said about contracting the disease other than it happened during one of your gardening sessions. From what you were saying to me, I could sense you are an educated and well-spoken woman. It was saddening to me to hear that not only did you lose your husband, but none of your children make any time for you. All you wanted was someone to listen.



Icon of Mary

You mentioned that you currently live in Shannondell. It seems like a well-to-do senior community from what I've researched online. I'm sorry that you feel isolated there. It is hard for me to imagine that you have no one to talk to—absolutely no one? Not even a friendly neighbor? You're a very amiable person and I don't understand why no one wants to (or seems not to want to) talk to you. You don't ask for much, just a sympathetic ear to listen to your story, your personal plight. I wish more people would be charitable with their time and lend you a few moment of conversation. I tried to talk to you, but grandma kept pulling me away. She thought you were crazy. She felt uncomfortable and wanted us to go. She didn't understand the Lyme's Disease and its effect on your nervous system. I apologized.

Mary, I promised I would try to help you in some way. I know you did not ask for money and I don't have any money to even treat my wife to a movie, but you were so gracious to offer money of your own just for having me listen to you. I kindly and respectfully turned down your offer, because that is not the Christian thing to do. I want to help you for no other reason than to bring some stability in your life and happiness. You seem like such a nice woman. I hope to see you in church again next Sunday, like we agreed.

I did some research online and found the following information that I hope and pray will help you:

Benjamin H. Wilson Senior Center
Address:	580 Delmont Ave. Warminster, PA 18974
Contact:	Jayne Taylor, Center Manager 215-672-8380
Web:	www.wilsonseniorcenter.com
Bensalem Senior Citizens Center
Address:	1850 Byberry Road Bensalem, PA 19020
Contact:	Bonnie Nase, Center Manager 215-638-7720
Bristol Township Senior Center
Address:	PO Box 1078 Levittown, PA 19058 2501 Bath Road, Bristol
Contact:	Bonnie Worth, Center Manager 215-785-6322
Web:	www.theyounginheart.com
Central Bucks Senior Center
Address:	700 Shady Retreat Rd. Doylestown, PA 18901
Contact:	Edward Shean, Center Manager 215-348-0565
Eastern Upper Bucks Seniors, Inc.
Address:	8040 Rt. 611, PO Box 545 Ottsville, PA 18942
Contact:	Kim Gaspar, Center Manager 610-847-8178
Falls Township Senior Center
Address:	282 Trenton Road P.O. Box 26 Fairless Hills, PA 19030
Contact:	Cecilia Murphy, Center Manager 215-547-6563
Web:	www.fallstwpseniorcenter.org
Lower Bucks Senior Activity Center
Address:	Wood and Mulberry Sts. Bristol, PA 19007
Contact:	Gail Aufschlag, Center Manager 215-788-9238
Middletown Senior Citizens Center
Address:	Former Municipal Bldg. - 2142 Trenton Rd. Levittown, PA 19056
Contact:	Lydia Konopka, Center Manager 215-945-2920
Morrisville Senior Servicenter
Address:	Borough Annex 31 E. Cleveland Ave. Morrisville, PA 19067
Contact:	Patt Schell, Center Manager 215-295-0567
Web:	www.morrisvilleseniors.org
Neshaminy Senior Citizens Center
Address:	1842 Brownsville Rd. Trevose, PA 19053
Contact:	Donna Kahhan, Center Manager 215-355-6967
Northampton Township Senior Center
Address:	165 Township Road Richboro, PA 18954
Contact:	Sheila Jobs, Center Manager 215-357-8199
Pennridge Senior Center
Address:	146 E. Main St. Silverdale, PA 18962 (Mailing Address: 146 East Main Street Perkasie, PA 18944-5421)
Contact:	Debbie Scollon, Center Manager 215-453-7027 215-453-7028

These are some of the Bucks County senior citizen centers and the contact information for each. I know you said that you don't have or use a computer, so maybe you can give them a telephone call and reach out. I look for more information and pass it along to you this coming Sunday. I only wish I could do more, but this is the best advice I can offer you:

• continue to take your medication for Lyme's Disease
• continue to go to church and stay for coffee hour
• continue to seek help and guidance from the Orthodox priests
• attend social events to meet more people (you'll find a sympathetic ear in the crowd)
• always look on the bright side of life and let not your heart be troubled

Even though your beloved husband passed away and none of your children bother to keep in touch, I hope you will not give up on this life and continue to live for yourself. Remember your gardening and the pleasure it brought you to raise and nurture flowers. Be the light and rain for those flowers. You have a purpose to your life and you should make the most of every day, even if you need to find quiet moment of happiness on your own. May God bless you and guide you to people who will listen. Don't lose faith.

Christ is with you always and you are not alone, Mary.

~Andrew K.