Have you ever been told that your word was not worthy of belief? Have you ever been hated or despised? I probably shouldn’t be thinking of anything except for my blood count. But I am.
Category: Aging
How About Life
Good For Me
So, my Father, Lenny, died at 54. I am 70, almost 71. We both had tough lives. He died of leukemia and so will I. Had a nephew who died of it, also. No one knows if lymphoma is hereditary. It doesn’t go away and it cannot be cured. Sharon is never going to give up on me. I won’t die unloved or alone.
Len Duckman Died 55 Years Ago
My Father died on Father’s day June 16, 1963. I was 7 when we learned he was sick and 15 when he died. Hard to celebrate and difficult to discuss.
He died before he was supposed to, only 54. He wouldn’t talk to me about it, except to say he was dying from Leukemia. That’s the way it was in 1963.
I lit a yahrzeit candle for him. I know no one else did. The family had long since stopped being a family. So it goes. So it goes.
To The Mattresses
One Last Kiss
Never know, do ya?
Street Woodstock
No sure where he parks his ship. Met him on the street, by chance. Keeping my eyes open. Never saw him again. Have just discovered the photo. Remember taking it, like it was the only photo I ever shot.
Should I Ask
More To See
David Duncan Douglas died at 102. War photogs don’t usually live that long. I won’t either. But I hope, in the few years I have left, to make more humanistic photos and become acquainted with more artists who will let me see them work. At least I have something to take my mind off of dying.
This is an old friend, Geebbo Church, noted artist and educator.
I Chose Life
So, Oliver killed Komar and I lost my career and almost everything else. Sharon turned to me as we hugged under the covers, reporters gathered under our windows keeping me locked in my home, “…, you aren’t going to hurt yourself, are you?” No one else cared enough to ask.
Many probably wanted me to. People even wanted to kill me. Now, I don’t have anything I can do about not dying, except to live to experience it. But, I still choose life and will as long as Sharon keeps loving me.
Poor Spade and Bourdain. How lost and alone, even though they seemed to have anything they could have wanted – fame, fortune, funds. Goblins got them. No one wanted to be with them where they were, depressed and despondent. Their families and friends deserve comfort, for sure, but where were they? Had their own lives to worry about, I guess.