This is Genes son Kris. I am sorry to tell you That my Dad passed away yesterday in his sleep. He loved all of you on this site. I lost my best friend yesterday. R.I.P. Gene plankey your stories will always be dear to my heart.

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 A soft, fluffy snow is falling in Yooperland and here at Island Lake with deer in the yard waiting patiently for breakfast (kernel corn). It's warm and comfy inside the penthouse cabin and I really don't want to get dressed but the mom, whom I call Big Mama, is staring at me just outside the window. She likes me that much. Ha. The other day, I laid some corn on the railing of my porch for the bluejays and while I was trying to write I heard knocking at the door. It was big mama's hoves on the porch and she turned, looked at me through the window with a hungry face almost saying, 'feed me'...I love it. She lets me stand two feet away fro and it's almost scary. She must remember me from a few years back when she was a bambi. How cool. She could rear back on her hind legs and knock me out with a one, two front leg combo in a venision heartbeat. I've seen her battle many a big doe in the last few weeks and she is still the champ. But, she is my sweetie. Her twin yearlings aren't quite so trusting of me but they will learn I am their friend who will help keep them alive this winter. I promise....

 I'm proud to say I am a cancer survivor times two. I can hang my mad bomber cap on that. Now, I need a good news story. I need to feel good about myself again. It would be easy to blame my recent short temper and lousy attitude on the hormones but I'm better than that. I overcome adversity at every turn. I need to be that Easy guy again like it was back when I joined boomer in 06. I need to start blogging again. I need to find some positives in a time I feel so lost. Thomas Wolfe said you can never go home again but I think I can go home as long as I realize I am a different person. Life changes as we sleep. I can do it. I will do it...

I've forgotten how small my cabin is. I can knock over the bed lamp reaching for the dish soap. I can stand by the front door and do the dishes in the kitchen. Nothing easy about the walk to the outhouse or the unpleasent experince when there. No mosquito's though. With all the drifting it is like climbing over the Himalaya's. With no Cherpa. And, for my friends downstate, I do carry the toilet seat in at night. To say it is fun would be a lie. Talking about it is a riot. I still chuckle over winning the VFW halloween party contest. Like Bobby would say, "Like taking candy from a baby"......

My new book, "Easy Street", will hopefully be in the bookstores this summer. I will include blogs that I have done here on boomer (any favorites?) to mix in with new material. On boomer, I've blogged on most of the things I want to say in this book which asks the question, "Don't we all want to be on Easy Street?" At our age, we thrive to end up there. We all need to find our own separate peace. I pray the right words will come together in what I hope is my breakthrough book in the literary world. As a tribute to dad that will bring solace for mom and help me grieve his loss....

I'll be back online in a couple weeks....

Easy.....    

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I feel like a kid in a candy store on Friday's when my work is done for the week. Like when the bell rings and school is out for the summer. Like after I've punched out after a long week of driving a UPS truck. Alas, I have grossly neglected the splender of the week end. Yes. The simple week end. I'm not a big fan of calling Wednesday's, 'hump day'. That's gross too. Wednesday is as aynonomous as a ghost writer. It the top of the hill. Tuesday is a tease. Monday's gone and there is some hope for Friday. But, when the day is done it's still a ways til Friday. Tuesday is false help. Thursday is like one of those dudes who is, way cool, a guy you hope asks you to party on Saturday night. A ladies man..... And, then there is Monday. Monday is the bully. Monday is stepping on a surprise in the back yard. Monday gets a bad rap and is deservedly so. It's like being in a very uncomfortable position and you just can't wait to get out of it. It's like a booster shot you need but don't enjoy bending over....

The weekend is katy bar the doors. All the things you wanted to do on the other days but couldn't; now you can. Sidebar: I rarely do the things on Saturday I want to do on Wednesday's. It's a myth but helps us pass Tuesday's. The weekend is just....smells fresher. Matters are more relevant. Friends are friendlier. The dog doesn't bark as much. The alarm clock is turned off. The coffee tases better. The door is opened with fervor knowing good things are out there....

At least that is how I see it...16 more to go. Excuse me...It's Friday and I have things to do. Enjoy your weekend, eh? Thanks for the nice comments and being good friends....Sunday is the day of rest, The day God has given us...

Easy....  

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I like write about my hometown. I miss Republic, Michigan. I missed it six years ago when I was going through chemo for Non Hodgkins Lymphoma. A week after finishing chemo I had a major stroke. After a long stay in the hospital, I came home to my one room trailer and found a computor on the table. My brother Jim had bought it for me. He thought it would be good therapy. He was right. I started writing stories about Republic in a fictional way and I called it, "Trout Falls Chronicles". Trout Falls is in fact my favorite trout fishing stream where I have caught many brookies and hope to fill the creel next summer. My stories became a book which I published myself and I had two printings and gave away as many as I sold. It's a rookie book but I am very proud of it. It's on Amazon.com. I also have three video's on you tube named "Easy Does It". It's me talking about me and my adventures. There are three ofthem you might want to check out. My book is my baby and my fifteen minutes of fame. It was masterfully edited by my good friend Janet Ma'ly. Some may know her as SavedByGrace. She's the smartest person I know...err...next to me...lol... I'm presently working on my second book about the last year living in South Lyon. I think you  will like it...

This is a bit of life in Trout Falls......Enjoy and thanks to all the comments on yesterdays blog. I cried happy tears knowing I am never alone.

                                  "Leonard and the Goat"

One spring Leonard Messenger bought a goat to mow his lawn and figured on having it for dinner after the goat's summer job had ended. He named it Scape which is funny but when it ate his best winter boots he failed to find the humor or both socks. He figured out early on he would need a fence which was some what obvious but Leanord didn't get the message. Then, he had to build a corral to put him in because he once got over through the fence at night and had it out with a Bobcat who didn't know what a goat was but quickly found out it had a hard head which stunned the Bobcat and put him into the twilight zone and then the goat ate him. When Leonard finally retrieved his goat he surely did get his goat.....

When Leonard's friends got bored they would come to visit and try to ride the goat. This doesn't do much for the goats disposition nor does it say much about the smart's of Leonard's friends. The boys would sit in chairs drinking vast quantities of beer staring at the goat and bragging how they would ride scape off into the sunset. Leonard would learn to say goats are of the devil after the night they tried to ride Scape the goat and ended up silencing the goat faster than you can say Jody Foster....

Elbert was the first to give it a go and the three hundred pounds he was packing couldn't even catch Scape. Everytime he would lunge he would miss and fall on his face in goat doo doo. This is a noo noo. He gave up and went back to sitting in a lawn chair licking his..err....wounds. Billy was up next. Billy was still angry big time about his new nickname he'd picked up after Leonard picked up the goat and brought it home. "Seen any hot Sheep, Billy". "Hey Billy. Wanna come over and mow my lawn too". So, as you see Billy took this personal. He wanted to make Pate out of him. He wanted to gut it, eat it and hang its horns over his Sauna door. As you can tell Billy had issues long before his new nickname and he was wanted in four states for old parking tickets so he was, in essance, on the lamb in Upper Michigan...

Billy was a large man with a dime size brain who loved that Mel Brooks movie where Alex Karras punched that horse and got his fifteen minutes of fame. Billy circled that Goat and the goat started making that cry goats make. No one could interpret goat but they had a good idea the goat was not happy. Nor do I think he saw the movie either. Billy wound up and took a powerful swing and...missed. "Strike one", said Elbert who fell off his lawn chair into the grass the goat should have been eating if these ying yangs would leave the goat alone to do his job. Billy dang near crewed himself into the ground spinning around with a tight fist that punched no one but the stinky afternoon air. The crowd let out a sigh....

Billy got up and bee lined for his pick up truck and pulled out his 12 guage and  popped a shell into the chamber. At this point it stopped being funny. You know what that is like, right? Even a bunch of half drunk good ol' boys know when the gig (goat) is up. Billy smiled and said the shell was a blank and this brought blank stares from his buds. Huh? "Naw, Leonard Messenger! I'm not going to shoot you or the goat with blanks.....I just want to scare that grass eaten snarley bearded wimp". Billy was no orator. "It'll scare him so bad I"llride him to Trout Falls and back. He will get the message". Never shoot the Messenger for the message, eh?...

He got up next to the goat and he blasted it by his ear and the round echoed across Island lake. The goat promptly fell to the ground in a thud. The goat wasn't sleeping. The goat wasn't sick. The goat was dead. Long live the gutless Billy "goat' who scared scape who never ate grass again but was dinner a week later after the funeral in which Billy sent another message to Scape saying how sorry he really was and didn't mean to kill Scapegoat. In fact, Billy became the scapgoat much to hilarity from all in town met not sure wether to get mad at him or laugh til they cried......

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I spend most of my time in my room because I am afraid to go too far from the bathroom. Everything I take in comes out almost on the hour, every hour. I thought prostate cancer would be that walk in the park compared to my Leukemia but cancer, in any form, takes no prisoners and is only happy ravaging our body. It has also affected my mind in a way I thought not possible. Radiation is far worse than I imagined. 20 done and 25 more to go... I love to walk. And, when I am down, walk some more. Walking is when I can figure things out and rationalize what I don't understand. My support group is small and I think some of my friends don't know what to say so they say nothing. I'm getting a wide berth even with some of my family. It's disappointing but I think I understand. But, it hurts. When I do get outside, I stay close to the gas stations or the restroom in the nearby park. There are times when I feel good, even just for a fleeting moment, and I relish it like I do sliced bread or the laptop I'm using now....

In the waiting room at the VA, I've met the guy who goes in before me and the one who comes after. It's an assembly line of hope for better days and fears they will never come back. We pass on our stories, our way of coping and I see the desperation in their eyes as they must in me. For the few minutes we're together it is fun to let it out and together we laugh and share our fears. I'm a joker (ham) at heart and I mask my fears making others laugh. I've been doing it forever. The three of us are bonding and by the time this is over I think we will keep in touch. This was the case during my Chemo six years ago and I still talk to 'chemo' Barb who sat next to me with her breast cancer. Runny thing is, I haven't called her since I told her I would need radiation. It's like I don't want  to bring up those bittersweet memories we shared together. She is still cancer free and I should call her. I probably will...

It's hard on mom. I was diagnosed five days after dad died and she is taking this hard. She tries to anticipate my every need but at night I hear her cry. She is so melancoly and I just don't have the right words to make her feel better. I'll try harder.... It's hard on me. I love to write. But, like any writer of any salt, I need to be in the zone to write the best words the right way. Like walking, putting words on paper is good therapy but it's not so good when I sit here looking at a blank page waiting for the moment thse words will come. I wonder if they will ever come back. I want to share my experiences because it may help someone else. I want the wife to know what her husband is feeling. I want the girlfriend to be aware of what signs to look for to offer that badly needed support....

I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch. I will make it right when I am right. I'm a Marine and I will toughen up. Thanks Jeff. Semper Fi. I will find my way through this and be back to what I once was. Until then, bear with me and pray for my mom and my brother Jim who are hurting bad. I went to church last Sunday and if I will just let go and let God take over I will be fine and come out the other side a better man...

Not so...

 Easy....

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Ok. I promised I would spin more tales from Trout Falls but sometimes life gets in the way. I lay on the hard table five days a week getting my dose of radiation  and as the days drag by it takes its toll on my body and mind. Only 39 more to go. A formidable foe it be. I'm up for it. Lining up rides keeps me on edge and there isn't much time to get into the mood to write. Dang. I'm having a hard time cracking a smile....

I figure I can kill two birds with one blog but honestly I love birds and would never think of killing one. Oops. Is a turkey a bird? Sure is. I miss home so much it hurts more than a ton of radiation ever will. I long for my critters. I yearn for my cabin on the lake. I need the peace and solace I find there. I beg God that it will be His will to send me home again. I want it now but I don't see the big picture that leads me to live three lives in these uncertain days. I've had Leukemia, chemo, a stroke, prostate cancer and lost half my eyesight and I think I have nine lives. I keep plugging on for the expectations of what we all want. To be happy...

I think I figured it out in Chicago last weeknd. Ha. I never will but I believe I'm going in the right direction now. I've been more wayward than a race car on wet pavement. Janet and I were watching a movie, Seven Pounds, and a nice lady needed a new heart. All she wanted to do was 'run' again. All I want to do is go home again. God spared me six years ago when I wrote my own obituary but didn't die. The Doc's said it was remarkable and I believe this is true. Sitting on Janet's deck talking through a screen while I smoked I told her I think God kept me here to help with my dad's passing last February and I am still here, a year later, helping mom with her grieving that dissapates each day like smoke rings in the sky....

I now believe my job here will be over soon. I have no doubt I will go home. But, it is not up to me and I cannot force it. God will decide where I will be and I best enjoy life wherever I am no matter the circustance. I've been trying too hard to go on my own and make it happen. The night before my catharsis I cried my eyes out to Janet unleashing my fears and tribulations. What a differnce a day makes. My life in Chicago with Janet is as important as my time with mom as is my 'Walden's Pond' in Upper Michigan....

I realize that I will be happy not where I want to be but where I am. It's not that hard to figure out if I will just trust in God and trust myself in a way I thought impossible. Nothing is impossible with God. That's enough for me....

Take care my friends. Your journey is no different than mine. We all in this together and none of us get out alive. God bless....

Easy....

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 The news from Trout Falls:

Teacher Bob spent most of the afternoon in the emergency room at Bellringer hospital yesterday after getting sliced and diced by a 32" Pike hat caught him on Island Lake. When he pulled it into the canoe the heavy duty dare devil lure  had enough hooks dangling to catch the pike, his loose pants and his hairy leg. Uh oh. Have you ever been in a boat when a huge pike lands at the bottom of the boat? It might as well be an eight foot great white. There is nowhere to hide. You can never have a big enough boat, i.e Jaws. It will slap around that boat like a fresh brookie in a fry pan. the fish tore into Bobs left leg and it wasn't a pretty sight but fter five long minutes it finally popped free of the lure. Teacher Bob was one happy but bloody dude......I always carry a hammer in the Leaky Teaky Two for obvious reasons and this is why all the pictures of the pike I've caught have no head. Ha. When I was new to Trout Falls, I carried a small pistol but after shooting a hole in the floor of the Leaky Teaky One I gave up that idea after it sank and I swa, to shore. I now offer deep sea scuba diving tours on the spot where my ex boat lays in six feet of water. When GQ was here he could sit in it and his head would be above water. As for Teacher Mark....Plastic surgery will fix his leg but he will walk with a limp in long pants. He's taken up badminton.....

The Big Fart River runs through Trout Falls and even though we have a swimming beach some of us like to take a dip at the dam south of town. The dam helps control the water level in the Big Fart but doesn't do much for the smell. No one has ever been able to figure out why the Big Fart smeels like rotten eggs. Tourists love to say, "What's that smell?" We say, "What smell?" Some prudists don't like saying Big Fart because it is considered a swear word so they started calling it the BF but that didn't last long after they figured out what BF might mean. Anyway, the key to swimming at the dam is to not get sucked through and get spit out the other side. Kind of like swimming uphill against the current in a dryer. Locals call it getting sucked through the dam or as we called it, getting flushed, and it has happened only once about thirty years ago and it stands as a bellringer in Trout Falls lore....Toivo popped out the other side ovciuosly in distress. Us kids jumped in to help him but he kept swimming in circles. Like he'd been spun around twenty times and asked to walk. We called him Wobbly after that he eventually left town to join a traveling circus where he worked the tilt a whirl....

Smart Mike is kind of an air head but one heck of a good guy. He'd lived in San Francisco during the sixties and after alll these years he is just an old, happy hippie. Smart Mike knows more about anything then anybody but could never quite figure what what do do with his life. He blew into Trout Falls in the eighties carrying his guitar when all hippies were trying to find a place to hide and still do their thing. He charmed the ladies and made a career of selling exotic flowers at his purple painted stand on the side of M-95. He did a blossoming business and offset the smell of the Big Fart immensely. Some came just to smell the good stuff. If you're a pretty lady he'll place one in your hair and sing of San Francisco, Scott Mckenzie...Mike lives in a shack he built himself with help from us locals. Left to his own doing the log cabin would have had thirty miles an hour winds, inside. I've been to his place many times and sometimes I envy Smart Mike. We've spent many nights feeding the woodstove over a few beers. We solved all the problems in the free world. The old hippie was happy. It amazes me because he has so little and wants even less. He's not a Teacher Bob with all his degrees but he majored in easy living graduating first in his class. Who is to say who has the best life? Or the best health. We are all the same but totally different inside. At 61, I am the same as I was when I was 18. I've gone through more changes then a rolling stone, Bob Dylan. The point is we all have to be ourself and travel our own road. Smart Mike is happy picking blackberries while Teacher Bob is a happy, family man living off a Blackberry. Wobbly came back home in his elder years and late at night a bunch of guys would build a fire by the damand Wobbly would tell his story again and again. We all need something to hang our hat on; Don't we.

Seeya next week...in Trout Falls....

Easy...

P.S......When I feel down I head to Trout Falls. It's a fictional place where I get away to relax and find myself like Smart Mike. Teacher Bob lives in my other world; the one where I start my nine week radiation treatments on the 31st. I'm also working on a new book but I find it hard to get into the place I need to be to write. It's an up close open book of my life with Cancer, losing my dad last winter, the veterans and hopefully some laughs along the way. God bless......

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I want to write a funny blog but it could end up sad. The difference between happy and sad is a smile. I want to play with words. I've always been funny. Sometimes, the words are harder to find. It's not easy but I am Easy. In grade school, the Heymaker sisters (honest) thought I looked funny and wouldn't dance with me. I wasn't quite yet... Gene Gene the dancing machine... Those twins still hurt me today. They bailed on me. Hey? Funny is relative and my Uncle Jim was my best. When we enjoyed a cool one in the local saloon someone would start the joke telling time to pass said time. Uncle Jim could tell a funny joke. Even lousy jokes were laughed at because it was a one act play and he was the star. He would lay in waiting like a cat for a mouse. After a lousy joke was told badly and when a half joke was half told by a guy who forgot the punch line thusly turning as red as Skelton. Yes, the long, run on sentences are funny. I think. I can still hear the Jaws music as Uncle Jim prepaired to pounce on the non laughing who were floundering for a laugh to not think of the lousy stuff in their own lives. I've watched my Uncle prepare for his first joke too many times but not enough because when he opens his mouth I smile. He would take a long pull on his beer to wet his lips while he lit a cig with a shiny, zippo lighter that has a funny metal sound I like. It was the Uncle Jim show as he told his first joke and one guy sprayed beer on his buddy who spilled his beer on the counter that rolled downhill and dripped slowly to he floor. "Towel"..... and again the funny train was leaving the station. If Uncle Jim was in front of a firing squad he would refuse a smoke and say, "Did you hear the one about the Penguin who woke up in a tanning booth with a Walrus?.....

I supress my fears with comedy. A cloak of humor. Or, is it simply a mechanism to change my mood from sad to happy? I sure don't like fear. I sure do like to laugh and make others smile. The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Franklin Roosevelt said that during the great depression. I don't want to be depressed even though some think I might be. I'm rock solid. I feared the Marine Corps when I joined up. Afraid that this pimply, insecure but determined kid could actually grow up to be a man. A Marine! I love lousy odds. Fires me up. Ha. I didn't laugh much in boot camp for obvious reasons but there is one picture of me sitting on my iron bucket cleaning my M-14 and I am smiling. It's bugged me for 40 some years but I've finally figured it out what the heck there was to smile about? I could clean that rifle all day and night and I still had trouble hitting the target. When I shot they stopped manuvers ten miles away. I was so nervous I was called 'Shaky'. Now, it is a lot easy..ier being nervous.... I've decided that in that picture I was very afraid but I was trying to laugh my so far miserable attempt learning to be a Marine away. Get it?

Oh yaw. About that firing squad; If ten of me were taking aim a man could smoke a pack or tell a pack of jokes.....

Happy Saturday my friends. I feel good. What's up this weekend? If you have a choice, tell a joke, laugh, and put the bad stuff aside until at least Monday, eh? God Bless!!!

Easy......

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