Life is Better Than We Believe (sometimes)

There is no way to be prepared to literally fight for your own life.

 

 We do not often contemplate our own mortality until our mortality is threatened, then there is the numbing feeling that washes over the skin leaving one without words, and only mantra of “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit oh shit" running rampant through the mind. 

 

 Stunned, we make our journey into the fight to live not at all realizing how tough the struggle will be, and kicking ourselves for taking for granted the precious time we have already been given. 

 

 Remembering the times we cursed life and fell into “woe is me” moments over loss of jobs or being short on money to pay a bill, taking for granted the important aspects of life which are health and people who love us more than we have realized, and maybe we did not take the time to love them back, or care for their feelings or needs. 

 

 And then the fight for our lives begin, and we look back knowing how wrong we were. 

 

  Life is better than we believe, even through the treatments and pain and anxiety we feel while battling cancer, one more day, hour, minute, second is worth more than any million dollar winning ticket. 

 

   Living in the now is they key. Breathing in the air is joy. Seeing the beauty all around is sacred. People that love us should be our purpose.

 

   Live and fight!

 

     Good Luck.

Fighting Bladder Cancer

I have not posted here in quite some time. Life has taken enough twists and turns, so I thought a quick update is viable. Most recently I had been battling bladder cancer for about 6 years. Fortunately there had been no migration into my lymph nodes or anywhere else and the cancer stayed stationary in my bladder. Every so many months I would go in for surgery to have the recurrent tumor scraped away, only for the tumor to grow back again (hence the name "recurrent"). I went for immuno-therapy called BCG to see if this would cause a cure, but I was in the low percentile for whom the BCG would not work. When BCG fails, the only life saving and viable option is to have the bladder removed which is called a "cystectomy". This is a major surgery where the bladder is removed and them a stoma is created from a section of intestine and the ureters from the kidneys are connected placing the urine in the stoma, which drains constantly into a plastic bag called a urostomy that covers the stoma and this urostomy pouch becomes the new bladder. I had this surgery, which damn near killed me when the sutures used to reconnect my intestines became loose, leaking waste into my abdomen. I was rushed into emergency surgery which saved my life. I am doing fine now 2 and a half months or so later, but recovery was a bitch! As I mentioned, I do feel incredible now. The urostomy pouch, just like a real bladder, needs to be drained every 2 hours or thereabout. The pouch itself gets changed every 2-3 days, which now takes me all of 10 minutes to do. The Dr. gives me a 97% chance of being cancer free going forward, and this makes me happy because I can hopefully now plan on vacations instead of surgeries and maybe go see some things I have been wanting to see, like a trip back to the mitten and a stint in D.C. to visit The House of the Temple. I am glad to be alive and fortunate to have a happy life, and I am hopeful for 30 or more years of happiness and adventures.

This Light Was On….

Greetings all!!

Thanks, Dad for making sure that this sconce that shone just inside the front door of the home I grew up in was delivered to me before you passed to the other side.  Neither one of us knew it at the time, but this sconce was going to be the only “thing” as close to “personal effects” that I would have to remember you after you passed away.

I cherish it greatly.

It took us both some begging and pleading to get the sconce to me. Once it arrived from Detroit to Salt Lake City, I was sad to see it was delivered broken. A clean crack down it’s side. Without hesitation, I pulled out the phone book and called a glass restoration business that was not too far away from where I live. I had an hour before the business closed to deliver the sconce there and to plead with them and hold out hope it could be fixed. “No problem!” the owner said. “We can use a UV activated glue to mend this, though you might still see where the break existed.” I was ecstatic and gave the go ahead to have the repair completed. A couple of days later, it was ready. The picture was taken as I laid it on my bed. I’ll be hanging it up this next week on the wall.

This sconce means a lot to me, Dad, as I told you. I appreciated you and Mom leaving it on for me when I’d be out late at night. Though sometimes I’d be a bit drunk, I never took any drugs. I know you’d be proud to hear that. And that light helped my drunk ass find the stairs that led to my room upstairs. That sconce that shone in the living room meant that somebody cared enough to remember me. Someone remembered I was out being an honorable young man. I never got into trouble with the law. I really never did anything WRONG, save for let a girl drive Mom’s car without a license. But, hey Dad…she was pretty! How could I say no?  We got pulled over as a brake light was burned out. I had to go to court. This sconce was on when I got home late that night and feeling scared about the punishment I was going to get. Not from court, but from YOU!!

Me and Mom kept that a secret. The judge gave me a small fine and an admonishment. It worked. I never let anyone drive my car, or Mom’s car again. License or not. I don’t think you ever knew that happened. But that sconce saw me walk into the house with my head down.

I am so glad to have it here, Dad. I will pass it on to your grandkids when I am gone. Right now it is a solemn touchstone to the house you bought and where I had so many memories. Most good, Some bad, but they are my memories that you helped to form.

I’ll keep that sconce and your name shining brightly in my home.

A Winter View

 

One of my favorite photos I took from the roof of Rose Wagner Theatre during a winter day looking across the roof to the Grand America Hotel in Salt Lake City.

Hey Dad, I Need To Tell You This.......

Hey Dad...I'd always say "Hey Dad" when you'd call, or when I would call you.

It's been a little over 2 months since you passed to the other side, and just a couple weeks since

I was back in Michigan with your Grand-daughter to attend your memorial service. I have been

thinking a lot about you since then.

I had not seen you in many years before you passed away, but I felt close to you as you did make

every effort to keep in touch with me and your 3 Grandchildren. When Saturdays and

Sundays come now, the phone does not ring with that familiar "313-898-01.." phone number

on the caller ID anymore. I knew that number my whole life. We didn't move around growing

up. My assistant principal at Hanneman Elementary referred to our family as a "staple family"

you made sure to keep things as normal as possible for me as a kid....well, other than the

horrible fights with Mom, or your iron fist "Drill Sargent" as you called it, way you chose to

discipline me. You apologized for all of that a few months before you passed over. I told you

"It's OK. You DO better when you KNOW better". It's a line I stole from Oprah. But I find

it to be true. I have been thinking a lot about what you tried to do for the family as I was growing up.

There were always summer trips. Irish Hills, Cedar Pointe, Kentucky, North Carolina. But

Irish Hills and Cedar Pointe were always the most frequent destinations. Camping and swimming at Irish Hills. Cedar Pointe and it's roller-coasters off of Lake Erie.

I'd get so excited to go to either. You really didn't show a lot of emotions. I mostly remember you being angry at one thing or another.

You'd laugh in slight spurts, and I think other people laughing made you uncomfortable.

You hated it when I'd turn on comedy shows. "Why don't you watch something that makes

a little fucking SENSE?!" You'd say. And Oh Jayyyysuus, I would sit through so many

PBS shows. Nova...you loved Nova. Sundays brought "Wild Kingdom" and you bought the

encyclopedia set that I would sit and read for hours. Volume after volume. I used to curse you

making me sit through all of those shows. But you know what, Dad? I know A LOT of things

from watching those shows and reading those encyclopedias. I bet you didn't know why I

spent so much time reading the encyclopedias. Well, as much as you hated comedy shows,

you loved violent, action packed movies. One night I was sitting with you and Mom watching "Three Days of the Condor" starring Robert Redford.

Now, "The Condor" was an espionage expert, as you know. He was killing and tricking the bad guys and knew how to tap phones and escape..."The Condor" was a sight to behold.

There was a line in that movie where one of the bad guys asks his partner (speaking about "The Condor") "How does he know how to DO all of this shit?" The bad guys partner replied "Because he reads EVERYTHING!!"

"WOW!!" I thought. Just by READING i could DO all of this shit? So, I started to read EVERYTHING, Dad.

From ingredients on shampoo bottles and shave cream cans while in the bathroom. To the

encyclopedias, to text books...you name it. Dad, even by allowing me to watch the movies, you inspired me to keep learning.

People REFUSE to play trivia games with me. You'd be proud, Dad. I am pretty fucking smart!

This has served me well in college. Yeah, you discouraged me from going to college when I got outta high school.

"Go to Trade School" you said. I went to work for K-Mart instead. Warehouse shit. Then I went

to school to be a sound engineer...with MY hearing, that worked out great.

As you know, Dad, things were not working out well in Detroit for me. I didn't really have a good job. The factories were closing due to the greedy corporate assholes that didn't give a damn

about Detroit's future. So I moved to Utah. Your daughter lived here for years, and you warned me about her. I should have listened.

I got married, drove trucks, had 3 kids, then I took your advice and went to Trade School.

Union sponsored Trade School!! Heating and Air Conditioning and Pipefitting. 4 and a half

years of school, 6 months shy of graduating and I starting going through the divorce.

I worked hard to learn my trade. I worked excessive hours trying to feed the family.

Got re-married and became stable. Got a great job with the local government now, Dad.

Does not pay as well as the private sector, but it gives me a benefit of having time off.

I use the time off to pursue a college degree now, Dad. I thought your advice was terrible for years.

"Don't go to college". A parent never says that. But, you know what, Dad? I have always had a job. Pays the bills, my skills are in demand.

And now that I am settled and in the government, I can use a college degree to ride a desk as

my body falters and is not as adept to climbing on roof tops in summer and winter. I also

qualify now for Pell Grants, so the government helps me to achieve my educational goals

so long as I keep good grades. And as I said...I am pretty fucking smart, Dad. Except math...but you remember THAT struggle.

As much as you tried to yell and scream math aptitude into me...my mind just has a hard time grasping numbers.


I have been thinking about all of the things you did and said, Dad. I am glad you created a mind

in me that would be open to new ideas. You didn't believe in being a zealot to anything.

About 7 months ago, when I mentioned my interest in becoming a Free Mason, you encouraged

me to pursue it. You told me of you own interest in it, but you told me you never had time to commit to it fully.

When I told you how I was enjoying Gnostic gospels, you expressed a great interest in it and encouraged me to read more of it.

Dad, I need to tell you this:

I miss you. I have missed you for many years. I wish we could have fished a little more, camped a little more and maybe could have watched a few more movies.

I will bet you did not know how much you influenced me to learn and learn some more.

I wonder if you did that on purpose.

I have become a lot like you,Dad. Well, except for my kids are not afraid of me, and I laugh a lot. Maybe talk too much and bullshit frequently.

I break balls just like you did in the garage. But, just like you, I treasure the opportunities to help people.

I am unselfish just like you, Dad. Me and your Grand-Daughter were sitting waiting for the U2 show to start and we were lamenting the fact of how we did not like selfish people.

I told her that the unselfishness comes from you and your Dad. I am glad I have passed the unselfish nature on to your Grand-daughters and your Grand-son.

When we see each other again, Dad, it will be one grand sight. I won't be limping around on my shot ankles and you won't be dizzy and your hands will not be asleep.

Our hearing might be good enough to hear one another!!

I know you come around here often, Dad. I was certain you attended the U2 show with me and your Grand-Daughter. You always wondered what the appeal was with my following that band for 20 plus years. Did you like the show? I think you see the appeal now.

You are welcome to visit as much as you like, Dad. Move in if you want to.

But, I think you are enjoying your time on the other side. Blitz and Blizzard, your son, your Mother and Father. Has to be a great homecoming.

I am enjoying my time on earth, Dad. I have a lot of fun. I have fucked up some, and I have done good for people.

I can wait a lot longer to see you, but I do feel you. I wasn't there when you were dying.

You told me not to be there. You knew I was in school. You asked me to do well, to learn and pass the class.

So, I stayed home. Never missed a class, but my mind could not escape the thoughts of your death.

When you died, it was during spring break. I was in a difficult math class. Yeah, MATH.

Sorry, Dad. I failed that class. Well, I got a D..needed a C. I just could not let my mind let go of your passing. And numbers are so hard for me anyway.

But, I will pass the class in the fall. I will dedicate the semester to your memory, and I will pass the class.

I am sure this letter has been on the cusp of a rambling session for more than a few paragraphs, so I will close now.

Thanks, Dad for everything. I am sure you are very proud of me and your grandchildren.

We are you!! And we will see you later. No offense, but I hope much much later.

Thanks to what you made us, our lives are pretty good!!

Take Care,Dad (I always said "Take Care" when we'd say our good-byes, remember?)

Johnny

That's My Dad

Greetings.

Late last night I got the word that my Dad passed away after battling many illnesses of late.

Weeks prior to this news, my Dad confided in me his misery battling these physical ailments and he instructed me "don't be sad when it's my time to go". It's not easy honoring that wish.

It feels too much like something is missing. Mostly there's a feeling of emptiness, but it's mixed with a feeling of relief for him as he no longer has to endure the discomfort and pain he has been through recently, and in actuality most of his life as he battled heart disease since he was in his 30's.

He told me stories of going to work on the assembly line at Fisher Body in Detroit (where I grew up) having to hold on to something as the line passed and it gave him vertigo. He told me about having to pull his car over on the way home from work when he couldn't control his heart rate and felt too dis-oriented to drive.

He would tell me of his desire to start his own auto mechanic shop(he went to trade school to learn the auto mechanic trade), but he didn't want to lose the medical benefits the United Auto Workers union had procured for the blue-collar workers in the auto industry. I remember him correcting me when I said "What a great company you work for that gives you these benefits." He quickly corrected that statement "NO! It's the UNION who got us these benefits. That factory doesn't give a FUCK if we have them or not!" He was a proud Union member. As a studied the history of the labor movement, I found out how right my Dad was about the importance of the labor movement and how Unions have protected the civil rights of the working class. He would come home and repair car problems for his friends. Doing brake jobs and anything else car related. As a young boy, I would venture out to the garage and hear the ball busting amongst my Dad and his friends, and the cursing related to doing mechanical work. If you have ever seen the movie "Gran Torino" and if you recall the barber shop scene, then you can understand life in my Dad's garage. The other aspect of my Dad's garage was excessive generosity. He never charged a lot of money to help people and rarely turned people away when they needed help.

My Dad loved westerns. He loved action movies. I was weened on John Wayne, Charles Bronson, Lee Van Cleef and the likes of them all. We'd sit on Sunday afternoons and watch movies like "The Missouri Breaks", "True Grit". We went to the theater to see "Unforgiven" and "Pale Rider" .

Me and my dad would talk often about out favorite lines in some of those movies. From "The Missouri Breaks" we liked the scene where Jack Nicholson was rudely awakened only to be told "Sorry to wake you, but your throats just been cut."

We also liked the line from "Unforgiven" where Clint Eastwood informs the rookie gunslinger "We've all got it coming, kid."

So I woke up this morning feeling the loss. But I have slowly been realizing that my Dad is still here, and will always be here.

I looked in the mirror this morning to brush my teeth, and noted the nose passed from him to me. "That's my dad", I thought.

I lost a slipper coming up the stairs to my bedroom this morning and muttered an "awwww FUCK!" That's my Dad.

I got a call this morning from a co-worker who needed help (it's my day off and he's on call) and I went to give him a hand. That's my Dad.

I love to watch "Pulp Fiction" and all kinds of movies no matter the content. That's my Dad.

When I eat corned beef hash. That's my Dad.

I have continuously questioned the words of the preachers and the content of the Bible and have sought to carve my own path of spirituality. That's my Dad.

I am a skilled tradesman and proud Union member. That's my Dad.

These same sort of virtues I have passed to my own children. I look at them and see me and my Dad in them as well. The generosity, the inquisitiveness, the love of movies, the love of music (forgot to mention the constant strumming of the 6 string my Dad would do, it was a background music to the home I grew up in.)

One day I went to my son's school and I heard my son tell one of his friends (referring to me)

"That's my Dad." Made me feel like my son was proud of me.

I am proud of you, Dad. You left behind a lot of goodness within me.

And when the world hears me curse a bit, question authority, generously give of my time, be a friend to others, break the balls of my friends, get lost in music, work hard, be chronically early to my appointments, be dependable, be quietly by myself, and above all else, when you see me loving the life I have, I am quietly telling you

"That's my Dad"


Rest Peacefully Tusco "Bill" Asher March 19, 2011

A Note From A Skilled Tradesman Employed By Local Government

Greetings all!

My last post was at Christmas, so it has been awhile.

Please indulge me as I write about my experience as a skilled tradesman i n the pipe fitting and heating and air conditioning field. Everything I write in this post regarding my wages are a matter of public record as a government employee, so I am not breaching any "privacy" rules one usually finds in the private sector where employees are warned to keep their wages private or face repercussions by management.

I have been a skilled tradesman for about 15 years. Only about 3 of these years have been with the government. In order for one to become a skilled tradesman, you must attend about 5 years of schooling. My initial education in the skilled trades came from Local Union 19 Plumbers and Pipe fitters, in conjunction Salt Lake Community College, where I was attending school 3 nights a week while under the employ of a Union shop where I was an apprentice worker learning from journeyman workers (workers who have been through the schooling and work hours needed to have obtained the skills required to be self-sufficient in the trade. This is 5 plus years, usually) so I learned my trade from books, and by experience at the same time.

My starting wage as an apprentice Union member working for a Union shop was $8.25 an hour. Out of this wage I had to pay my union dues ($65 a month) and pay partial education costs (the Union paid a fair percentage) and also help to support my family. I took a pay cut from driving a truck making $15 an hour to join the apprenticeship program so that I could insure my future with a skilled trade.

By the time my apprenticeship was finished (I left the apprenticeship about a year early due to life circumstances which have been discussed previously, I will not repeat it here in this post) I was making about $16 an hour. Full health benefits, dental, etc.
The Union contract between the employees and the Union shops helped the employee exponentially by stating such things as what tools the employer must provide (heating and air tools are expensive. Vacuum pumps and recovery machines cost 200-500 dollars) the employee usually supplied hand tools, but when they broke, the employer was obligated to replace them. Most of the employees bought Craftsman tools, which have lifetime warranties, so we would only ask the employer to indulge us with the time it took to go to Sears to replace the tool. This time was granted with no qualms.

After I left the Union (under no duress, my employer at the time convinced the crew to vote to leave...long story) things changed. I worked for employers who did such things as make the begining of the work week a Saturday, so they would EXPECT us to work the weekends with no overtime pay. The expensive tools were now our responsibility to buy. "Oh just put it on our tool account at the supply house" they would say. The employers would then take amounts out of our checks PLUS 5-10 per cent as a "convenience fee" for using the account. So, now you owe money to the employer while trying to make a living for yourself.

Now, this was not true in every non-Union shop I worked for. A couple were decent. Most were not worker friendly. The last company I worked for paid a decent wage on paper ($21.75 an hour) but did the crooked things with work hours, only gave out 30 hour work weeks to the employees. Expected the employee to be available at all sorts of strange hours (sent us home during the day, then called at 6-7 at night expecting the employee to work for straight time)

Now remember. Heating and air conditioning is a SKILLED TRADE. The tradesmen spend a lot of time in educational ventures learning to be a skilled tradesman. As skilled tradesmen, we expect a bit better treatment than that. Or at least I did.

Having tired from the mis-treatment, I started looking at other ways to use my skills. I did not have the money to start my own shop, so I checked the internet and found my local government entity was looking for a skilled HVAC tradesman like myself. I applied and subsequently got the job. The position came with all the tools needed for the job. Full health coverage (though we do pay a large share in premiums). Ample time off (I will discuss this in a moment) 8 hour work days, yet still one has to be available for "pager duty" where you are "on-call" 24 hours a day for a week, about every 3 months. In the private sector, the same pager duty is expected. Many times it was a week every month, the employer did make it lucrative most of the time by offering things like $50 every time you went on call, PLUS time and a half. Many times you got $100 pager duty pay, then time and a half for every call. Pager duty is an annoyance, but in the HVAC trade, it comes with the territory.

When you come to work for the government, you do give up some things. First, the pager duty pay was sub-par to the private sector. We got 4 hours pager pay, then 3 hours minimum per call. AFSCME recently negotiated 10.67 hours compensation for pager duty pay. So now we have a day off without using our own vacation time to make up the difference for the annoyance of carrying the pager. We get 2.67 ours pay as well. So, this is in par with private sector workers, and this is something the employees in the trades asked for and got.

Employees with the local government here earn time off. 4 hours a pay period vacation, and 4 hours in sick pay. Also, there are paid holidays. When not on call, we usually only have to work 8 hours instead of the 10-12 a day in private sector jobs in HVAC trade. These set hours have enabled me to go back to college to further my education. This came with the job, was not negotiated by AFSCME. AFSCME has only been representing the trades here for about 6 mos.

Sounds great, right? And the time off is, especially as a 43 year old working the physical skilled trades job. HVAC trades are full of climbing, lifting, kneeling, being on extremely hot and cold rooftops and noisy conditions. after in the trade for many years, the body screams.

Now let's discuss the pay. I was making $21.75 after 12 years in the trade in the private sector. When I came through the door of government, I lost about$3.50 dollars an hour. My starting wage with the government was $18.28.

I got a couple of raises where I then made almost $19 an hour, BUT THEN the economy tanked and every employee of the local government took a 3% across the board pay cut. Put me back to $18.48, while at the same time my portion of the health insurance raised 10%.

Recently, thanks to the upswing of the economy, we all got 1% back, so now I am at $18.68...BUT my portion of the health care raised another 10%.

Last year, I grossed 38k, after taxes and child support, health care, i brought home about 25k.

My pension will reflect this when I retire.


The point of this post?


Your local government employee is NOT getting rich. We get days off with pay, which is priceless, no argument there. But we are NOT the blame for the so-called "budget crisis" which you hear of. Contrarily, your government employees are usually the first ones to take cuts to insure services for the public are afforded. The libraries, the recreation centers, the garbage pick-up, the snow removal, are all done more inexpensively by your local government as these services are done by a non-profit entity.

The government employees make less to insure the public pays less for the services.

Please think twice and do your research before you blame the people on the front line for the problems some governors say they have.

I am proud to be a government employee. I consider my employ to be a service to the community I live in. I am also a proud Union member. My Union stands to protect the rights of the middle-class that so many literally fought and died for in the generations before me. The Union is not in existence to demand anything but fairness, and fairness is the only "thing" Union members expect. We are not lazy, or spoiled.

Thanks for reading this. I felt compelled to share my story so that the myths can be dispelled about how "the blame" rests with your government employee. Very contrarily, your government employee is very often the solution to keeping the services in your community affordable.