I was surprised by
the knock on the door.
I wasn’t expecting anyone.
Everything was perfect in my life.
My children were living good lives,
and my grandchildren were guarantees
of tomorrow….
Every day was an experiment in love.
Then I opened the door
for Death,
And I had no choice
but to welcome him in,
But I was ready and
stepped into forever
Hand in hand with
You.
DrDan
01-31-2015
Today I am sixty-four years old. This sixty-fourth year has been one of great contrast to the previous one, and itself has had some ups and downs, but mostly it has been a wonderful twelve months.
Last year at this time I was almost a year into some of the deepest despair I have ever known. I was anticipating several years of trying to salvage some kind of meaning for my life, but I was struggling. After forty years of a good marriage, its tragic ending left me despondent and lonely. I had retired from a forty-one year career in education and didn’t even have the desire to go back to the classroom. Both of my parents, my best advisors always, also passed away in 2013. I’m not one to seek help—I’d rather give it—even though I have some wonderfully wise friends. Despite good people in my life, things were bleak.
Just before Christmas, and my 63rd birthday, I returned to the mountains and went skiing again after a twenty-two year hiatus. It was exhilarating. I’d started writing again, too, that fall and, with the urging of a good friend and some serendipitous meetings with others, published my first book.
I was writing and skiing and doing other traveling. I decided to purchase a second home at my favorite ski resort and started making plans to spend much more time in the mountains throughout the year. About the same time, I met a woman who immediately brought me great joy and love. By the middle of the year, I felt as if I’d been reborn. What incredible gifts life has given me!
In September I hit a minor bump. My annual physical showed that I was quite healthy (Up) except for some disturbing blood work (Down). A few more tests revealed that I have very early onset (Up) prostate cancer (Down). Up. Down. Up again. I don’t have to face anything alone.
My younger son took advantage of Dad’s condo to propose to his girlfriend. I’m about to have two marvelous daughters-in-law and another precocious granddaughter to go with two fine grandsons and their little sister. My lady’s family adds three beautiful daughters I gladly claim as my own along with their fine husbands and six more wonderful grandkids.
After several visits to my/our mountain home throughout the summer and fall, we were there for opening day of the ski season and reveled in beautiful snowfall. Several members of both our families have had the opportunity to also enjoy “our mountain” already. I’m headed back right after New Year’s Day.
The annual celebration of my birth began yesterday afternoon with a gathering of children and grandchildren, and a grand time was had by all. This blending of families is an amazing thing to watch. What incredible love we share even as we get to know one another.
I woke this morning with the love of a beautiful woman and the promise of many happy years together. I am fortunate that I am able to look forward to her companionship. Our pasts are the foundations on which we are building our future together. Nothing is forgotten. All is accepted and cherished or understood. Tomorrow is only less important than today.
I’ve been to the gym today and had a good workout, spent some time reading birthday wishes from friends and family from Maine to Alaska, including unexpected cards of well-wishes from friends with whom I’d lost touch, and anticipate a warm and wonderful evening. In the coming days I’ll enjoy more time with my family and friends and make plans for more time together. Soon I’ll be back in the mountains. Every day is a new adventure. It’s all good. The coming year should be amazing.
This time next year I’ll be even younger than I am now and still be sixty-five!
I wish everyone the most joyous holiday season and more Ups than Downs in the coming year!
DrDan
12-22-2014
When I hold you in my arms,
I want us to become one.
Sometimes I fear I’ll break you,
And I’ll be undone.
But it’s never enough
Just to hold you
No matter how I might enfold you
It’s never enough for you.
I tell you that I need you
More than food and air and water,
And I try to give it all to you,
To be all the things that matter.
But it’s never enough
Just to need you
No matter how my giving has freed you
It’s never enough for you.
I tell you that I love you
More than life and more than living,
But the only way you’ll really know
Is through all that I am giving.
But it’s never enough
Just to love you
’Though no one else could be above you
It’s never enough for you.
’Cause I can never hold you strong enough,
Or give enough from what I need,
Or love enough with my heart and soul
Or love enough
Or love enough
Because you deserve so much more.
DrDan, 11-04-2014
“Gratitude”
If you have,
Give,
and be thankful for your abundance.
If you need,
Receive
with a thankful heart until you may
Give
in your turn.
All we need is
Love.
Daniel J. Cox
11-19-2014
On December 30, 1972, I married my best friend, Nancy Fender. She put a gold ring on my finger as we pledged to love and honor one another as long as we both lived.
January 17, 2013—forty years, eighteen days, two hours, and thirty-five minutes later, I again held her hand and told her that I loved her as she slipped away from me. It was five months and three days after we learned that she had brain cancer.
Our life together was not a storybook, but we lived happily as “ever after” as anyone. We have two fine sons who have become men anyone would be proud to know. Three grandchildren were her greatest joy. I was only a few months to retirement and the beginning of a more relaxed time in our lives. We had looked forward to it for years. Neither of us had any regrets about our time together.
My life has changed a great deal since becoming a “single man” again. Retirement for me is exploration. My days are full. I have been blessed again to meet a woman who loves life and children and music and the joy of living. We share so many commonalities that much of our laughter is the constant discoveries of those things we share, including memories of Nancy. This is not the life I thought I would be living, but Eleanor Shirley and I plan to make the very most of many years together. Our pasts are part of the foundation of our relationship.
I am still wearing the ring Nancy placed on my finger, just on the other hand. I rarely take it off. I plan to wear it until I, too, pass on. The fact that it’s on the “wrong” finger means that I notice it often. I like that. You see, I wear it as a reminder of many things.
First of all, of course, my wedding band reminds me of the life I had with that wonderful woman. Each time it makes me notice it, I recall some event or person or emotion of those forty years. They made me the person I am today. Sometimes I smile through bittersweet tears.
This circle of gold also reminds me that life itself is a circle. It turns on itself through all the stages and ages. I stop now and then, when my ring prompts me, and think about watching my sons and grandchildren grow and become the people they are or will be. I am also reminded that I am changing, too.
And thinking of those stages, I am reminded that we cannot know how long they might be. The golden moments may shine for years and years, or for only a very short time, but they all come to an end. I try to be aware of every one, each shining aspect of my life. I look more closely, listen more carefully, breathe more deeply of life. I acknowledge people. I try to be kind to everyone. I make the effort to appreciate what each person brings to the world and understand everyone’s struggles and applaud the successes. Most of all, I tell those I love just how much they mean to me. Often. Daily if I can.
I have learned that I may lose these joys at any moment, so I want to enjoy every moment and everyone who is part of them.
Thank you, all of you, who are part of my life. A shining circle of gold reminds me each day to embrace you and our life together. I hope to hold you within the circle of my arms any time that I can—BIG HUG! Know that you will always be part of the circle of my life.
DrDan 10-22-2014
I only know one way to love—unconditionally. I just don’t understand any other way. What is love if there are conditions? “Like”? “Fair weather friendship”? Can’t do it. I can’t help myself from admitting it, either, if I love someone. Why would I hide it? Is it something I should be ashamed of stating? Are people afraid of it?
Unfortunately, I think many are afraid of the emotion, the public revelation. I’ve always been a big fan of PDA—Public Displays of Affection. I wish there was more of it! Instead I see indifference on display. Worse is outright hostility out there for everyone to witness. Why do I want to see that?! Show me your love for someone else. Hell, show me that you love yourself!!
Oh, sure. I see handshakes and fist bumps and “bro hugs” and air kisses all over the place. Please. You get a hug from me, prepare to bandage your ribs. I want you to know that I want you close to me, in my protective embrace, either physically or emotionally or mentally. Don’t be afraid to let me see or feel your bruises or blemishes or weirdness. Let’s laugh at mine and have a good time! Need something? If I can help, call me. That’s not what friends are for. That’s what love is! You’re not taking from me; I’m giving to you!! Believe me. One way or another, I’m going to come out ahead in the deal.
In almost sixty-four years I’ve seen all sorts of people suffer for the love they couldn’t express, and I’ve seen the awful toll it’s taken on those who just could not accept the truth of love. Good people have been tortured by their inability to believe in love that is given without strings, with full disclosure, outspokenly admitted, demonstrably delivered.
I think I easily had over 5,000 students in my career in education. I consider every one of them one of “my kids,” and I love them all. Some of them have given me “grandchildren.” Most of them know they can still ask me for just about anything, even if it’s been 40+ years since I’ve set eyes on them. Sure. Back when I was too close to their age to tell them, I sometimes got in “trouble” for expressing my care for them. Some people thought even a few years ago that my obvious affection for both students and colleagues was inappropriate. Sorry. I just can’t help myself.
I’ve been lucky in my life to know people who love unconditionally (even if they haven’t been as demonstrative). My immediate family members have always been pretty open in our affection for one another. I learned the ultimate “bro hug” from my father. My brothers and I have shared genuine tears of affection in our many times of need. I am sure my sons, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren know they can count on me. I had forty years with my wife and knew unconditional love expressed daily. “Part II” of my crazy life has given me a partnership I could never have imagined was possible. My past has become my present as well as my future, and love continues to blossom. What an incredible gift!! Every day is a new adventure. I can only hope for more days to show everyone just how much you all mean to me.
My former students, friends, family…I love you. Come here. Let me give you a hug!
He was surprised to see me sitting in his recliner in the living room when he got home from work, especially since his wife, my daughter, wasn’t there. She is supposed to be here to greet him and have supper waiting. Before his expression changed to curiosity at my presence, I could see his annoyance at her absence.
“Hi, Bob,” I said calmly. “How was work?”
“Uh, hello, Roy. What are you doing here? Where’s Kate?”
“She had to go out for a while. He mother called her to come over and catch up. She’ll be back later.”
He started briefly, I could tell, at the idea that Kate was with her mom.
“I thought you and I should have a talk.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
He set his briefcase down in the hallway and hung his coat on the rack, eyeing me warily as he sat down on the sofa across the room from me. It was unusual for me just to drop in on him. Usually we only talked on the rare occasions my wife and I were invited for dinner. Even then our conversations were typically about the game we were watching while the women fixed dinner. He never so much as raised a finger to help as far as I had ever seen.
“Remember our talk in the church before you and Kate got married?”
“Well, sort of. Lots going on that day. Why?”
“Yeah. You made several promises that day. Let me remind you of what you promised me, and what I promised you.”
“Now, Roy. Let me explain….”
“Oh, I don’t need an explanation, Bob. Kate told me about the bruises on her arms and back. It was hard for her, though. She was crying so hard it was difficult to understand her at first.”
“She fell on the stairs with the laundry basket.”
“No, Bob. She didn’t fall, did she?”
“Sure she did. I’ve told her she needs to be more careful on the stairs.”
He started to get up.
“Sit down, Bob.”
“Roy, I….”
“Sit down!” I insisted. “Listen to me.”
“Roy….”
“Shut up, Bob.” I was speaking just above a whisper and he had to strain to hear me.
“At the church I told you to take care of my little girl. You promised me you’d be good to her, didn’t you?”
“Sure. I take good care of her!”
“Is that what you did last night, Bob? ‘Take care’ of her? With a ball bat?”
“I didn’t touch her!”
“Bullshit, Bob. We both know what you did to her.”
“No! I didn’t…!”
“You broke your promise to me, and you broke your promise to her when you pledged to ‘love and honor and protect’ her.”
“And I promised you that if you ever broke your promises to me and to her that you’d regret it. I promised you that you’d only get one chance, too. Remember? That I was giving you the only warning you’d get?” I was having trouble staying calm, and my voice was a low growl.
“Now, Roy. Don’t do anything foolish!” His voice had risen in pitch and volume, and he started to get up again. I could see fear in his eyes.
In one movement I stood and drew my grandfather’s old Colt from the holster at the small of my back. He stumbled back away from me and collapsed back onto the couch. Sobbing, he pleaded with me, “Roy, please! It was a mistake! I’ll never touch her again!”
“No, Bob, you won’t.”
That old .45 is more than a hundred years old. Gun registration wasn’t even being discussed when it had been passed down to me. The ammunition in it then was carefully stored and protected, and I’d had it at least forty years. I’d been in that house dozens of times. They’d bought the acreage on the edge of town to have some privacy, and their nearest neighbors were a quarter mile away. It had been dark when I drove down the lane without my lights.
I left the same way as I drove home to take care of my little girl.
Daniel J. Cox, 09-09-2014
 | shirleyeleanorj on “Citius, Altius, Fortius—Commu… |
 | Mark Sebring on “Friends Old and Young” |
 | drdancox on “Connections” |
 | Marie Davy on “Connections” |
 | Melissa Ratner on “Foul” |
| shirleyeleanorj on “Citius, Altius, Fortius—Commu… |
| Mark Sebring on “Friends Old and Young” |
| drdancox on “Connections” |
| Marie Davy on “Connections” |
| Melissa Ratner on “Foul” |
Howling at the Moon 
“Happy New Year”
The uniformed officer had made his first round of the building. The back door was locked. The front entrance doors were closed, but he could still faintly hear the sacred music of the festivities within.
Seemed funny to be having a New Year celebration at night—in church, no less. He was getting paid well for his service, but it was odd to him, nevertheless. Not only was he missing an important baseball game on TV but the mosquitos had become bothersome after the sun set. It had rained most of the week. At least tonight was dry.
With a look to both corners of the block and down the tree-lined street passing out front, he started another patrol. He had left the Marine Corps fifteen years ago, but he had walked perimeter guard so many times that old habits were still automatic. He didn’t expect any trouble, but he hadn’t been hired just to stand around.
As he neared the northeast corner, a car pulled up across the street. A middle aged man got out of the driver’s seat, closed the door, and walked up the steps of the neighboring church. No service was occurring there. In fact, the lights were off, but just a few seconds after the man walked in, a single light came on and lit up the stained glass window on the right hand side of the door.
“Hmm,” the officer thought. “Not locked. No one there. Guess the Presbyterians aren’t too worried about things.”
“This building is full of people; all the lights are on, and they say they’re celebrating something like Year 5,775. The rabbi said this temple has been here for 90 years, 140 for the people’s presence in town. Hard to imagine trouble for a church of any kind here in the Midwest.”
With that thought in mind, his eyes scanning the growing darkness and his ears attuned to anything out of the ordinary in the small city’s traffic noises, he rounded the next corner and came again to the front of the building. The odd, eerie blaring of the shofar startled him, and he looked up the steps toward the sound and gasped.
Splashed awkwardly across the ornately carved front doors in still wet paint was a symbol right out of his history books—a swastika.
The long note from the ram’s horn faded and gave way to the off-key whistling of the blissfully unaware parishioner returning to his car across the street.
“Shanah Tovah”