For reasons.
Unless it was to gather evidence for their lawyers, I can’t imagine any of my haters making the effort to click on any of my banners shared on Facebook or NextDoor. But if you are not fond of my BS, and you followed this link out of morbid curiosity, You’re in for a treat!
I am currently extra challenged
As many of you know, and some of you like to announce publicly, I’ve been struggling to find a job since the casino laid me off from their marketing department. It’s not easy out there for a graphic artist anymore. My decades of experience and growth in my field have been replaced by AI. Now every $25 flyer I could sling is produced in 30 seconds with a prompt. Even freelancing is off the table. Since my final unemployment check is next week, I’m a little stressed about money, and no factories or fast food joints want a 49-year-old with a broken back.
Then there’s Amy…
My 1980 C20 Camper Special, which I named Air Force Amy has been struggling. After replacing the carb, intake, radiator, and distributor, the transmission decided it needed some attention. A first for me, I dropped the transmission in my driveway to replace the torque converter with lots of advice from YouTube and my big brain mechanic friend LaGrande up the road.
After a week of swimming in automatic transmission fluid, I had everything reconnected, and even found those two missing bolts that kept me up at night. I finally climbed into the cab and cranked it up. I was warming it up to finish filling the ATF. Suddenly, I realized the ATF was all over my driveway. A tranny line was apparently cut then spliced by the last owner, and the redneck engineering had failed, making Amy squirt all over the pavement.
I got some new flexible transmission lines that I will install shortly after I’m done with this blog post. Hopefully after this, I will be mobile again!
My dad is really stressing me out
Every other week, I’m getting a call from my dad saying his time is up. 80-years-old, living in Florida, he has end-stage kidney failure and on daily dialysis.
Since Dad had an episode in the dialysis clinic, where he blacked out and ripped out the tube, leading to what sounds like a bloody horror scene for all to experience that day, he’s been blackballed at the clinics. His only option was being locked down inside a nursing home. In response, he decided he would go off dialysis, which would kill him in a few days. I had to sit down with each of my kids and his ex wife [my mom] to hear them all cry at the news.
3 days later: NEVER MIND! I guess Dad cut a deal with the hospital to let him have some days at home, and now he can bring in his HAM radio stuff. Also, he met someone’s grandma down the hall he likes, and he’s gotta take his shot. So he got back on dialysis, and decided to live.
A few days after that: NEVER MIND! A series of heart attacks occurred, and now dad was headed for possible open-heart surgery. I got another phone call, where I hear my dad explain this was likely his departure time. Thankfully, it ended up being heart stents, and surgery went well – despite the hurricane that was landing on their heads at the time [true Wooley style]. Last time I talked to Dad, he sounded great.
The worst kind of tragedy
TRIGGER WARNING
Last week, while my wife and I were having our evening show and cocktail, her phone rang with my son’s friend on the caller ID. Confused, she answered.
Emilio and my son were best friends for most of their life, ever since Riverview Elementary School. When my boy moved out, they were each other’s first roomates, although that would change later as my son got married and got his own place.
I liked Emilio. Growing up, he was always quiet and respectful whenever he was here. Having lost both parents, he lived with his grandpa and sister. While I don’t know all the details of his background, I hear Emilio’s life was full of hard times early on.
I watched Lisa’s face express deep concern as she talked to Emilio that night on the phone. She was so sweet, asking him if he’s OK, and trying to comfort him as he was very drunk and upset. “I’ll never get the sound of his voice out of my mind,” she would tell me the next day.
Emilio killed himself shortly after that phone call. He did other things too, but I won’t get into that here. Alcohol was a major factor, and was apparently a growing issue leading up to that point.
Just like with my own kids, anyone I watch grow up, will always be that little kid to me. I’m still wiping tears from my eyes as I type this. Life shit on this kid hard, and the bottle made it worse. He deserved better than this.
Considering the events that took place right before Emilio took his life, I expected to see something on local news, but they never wrote anything. All I could find online, were a couple posts from Riverview Elementary from back in the day.
My heart breaks all over again, seeing my son suffer the stages of grief, which include all the “what if” questions. They had a falling out before Emilio spiraled, and I know that weighs heavily on him. Even when he’s smiling, I can see it in his soul.
The only silver lining to this absolute tragedy, is that Emilio was an organ donor. While we lost him, he ensured others would live. For this, I will forever honor him as a hero.
Talk about it
That certainly is a lot to go through. I’m so stressed for you just reading all of that. I am going to put good vibes out in universe for you, Phil for you and your family. You deserve some sunshine in your life and it has been a struggle. You’re a good person and you know that, doesn’t matter what those shitheads say.
Thank you!!