In this approximately 5 minute episode of the Candle Shore Podcast, I recite the original lyrics to “O Holy Night”, written by Adolphe Adam, as a literal English translation from the French poem.

Please accept this gift from me to you and in all things, remember to make a joyful noise.

Merry Christmas,

Mark
Episode:  Mark Recites The Original Lyrics To O Holy Night

In this approximately 5 minute episode of the Candle Shore Podcast, I recite the original lyrics to “O Holy Night”, written by Adolphe Adam, as a literal English translation from the French poem.

Please accept this gift from me to you and in all things, remember to make a joyful noise. 

Merry Christmas,

Mark
Episode:  Mark Recites The Original Lyrics To O Holy Night

The following is a true story:

On Monday, July 6, 2009 after having used my iPhone 3GS (complete with the VoiceOver screen reader for the visually impaired) since purchasing it on the day of its debut, Friday, June 19, 2009 at approximately 7:12am, I decided to return my one and only AT&T Wireless SIM card to its original host, my beloved Samsung Epix SGH-i907 Windows Mobile Professional 6.1 touch-screen Smartphone. 

Just so you know, all AT&T Wireless services including  phone calls, email, text messages, etc reside on the SIM card.  Therefore, only the device with the card may use these services.

After reactivating my Epix, while offering up the expected apoligies for ever having left it for even an instant, I decided to send a friend a text message.

As I launched the Windows Mobile Messaging application, I glanced down towards my iPhone as it lay on my desk, clearly shocked at my sudden disinterest.  I could almost hear it saying to me, in a severely wounded tone, “Mark?  What are you doing?  What about me?  Don’t you love me anymore?  I was so good to you, was I not?”

Feeling a twinge of guilt, I quickly looked away as I reached out and  pressed its shiny new Sleep Button as if to say, “That was another time; in another place; in another life.  We had our moments but now it’s time that I returned to my real life; return to the one I truly love.  Yes, you are a sweet (and may I say, totally accessible) young thing but even before your birth, my heart belonged to another and it is to that one that I must surely return.” 

Swiveling around in my chair so as not to endure the sight of that wonderful, refreshing, naïve, remarkably beautiful (size 32GB) midnight black thing (with the body of a goddess), I returned to my never-really-forgotten Epix with its safe, secure, tried and trusted, satisfyingly comfortable and familiar countenance.

In the “To” field of the SMS message, I selected the Contact to whom it was being sent.  I caught myself touching the touch-screen in order to do this yet nothing happened.  Smiling I realized that I must first tap the [Enter] key located at the center of the Navigation Control in order to bring up a list of Contacts.  Even after only two weeks or so, it seemed strange to have to think of such a thing as a Navigation Control”. 

As my list of over 200 active Contacts quickly scrolled off the display screen, I thought to myself, “Wow!  I wish I had a Favorites list on this phone as I do on the iPhone 3GS.”

Choosing not to use first letter navigation, I began scrolling through the seemingly unending list of Contacts, one at a time as the Epix does not have a readily available Scroll feature.

I selected my Contact and prepared to typing the text of the message.  As my fingers slid across the (once considered elegant) QWERTY keyboard, in comparison to the iPhone’s forever shimmering silky glass virtual landscape, it felt cramped, bumpy, slow, and unbelievably sluggish. 

As I entered the message, one laborious tiny keystroke at a time, I kept having to resist the urge to turn the Epix on its side as doing so, unlike on iPhone, would not increase its size.

During one such impulsive instance, I could almost hear my Epix say to me, “Are you crazy?  You know I can’t do that.  What’s happened to you?  Are flashy bells and whistles and a fake set of 32GBs all that matter to you anymore?  Don’t touch me!  In fact, don’t come back to me unless you really mean it.  I’m not just some toy you can play with in order to make your new thing jealous.” 

Sweating profusely, I decided not to send the text message.  Some how, and I swear to you I don’t know why, the magic was gone. 

I returned to my office about three hours after having aborted my failed attempt of using Epix to send a text message.  During my three hour hiatus, I had given much thought as to what must be done in order to restore perpetual mobile bliss to the tectonic tide pools of my wireless world.  It would not be easy; and it would most definitely not be fun.  Nevertheless, regardless of the immortal cost to my ethereal soul, it (for better or worse) must be.

As I sat in my office chair between them, Epix on the desk to my left, iPhone on the desk to my right, they both stared at me expectantly.

After a brief pause, followed by an uncomfortable silence, I said, addressing them both, “I know this is not fair to either of you but you are going to have to get used to being in the same house together.” 

Receiving no reply from either of them I continued, cautiously, “I refuse to choose between you.  So, what I’m going to do is let each of you do what you do best.  One of you will handle all of my day-to-day wireless needs complete with all the bells and whistles I can find.  The other will be delegated the more mission-crucial responsibility of getting me from place-to-place using Code Factory’s Mobile Geo, the most comprehensive wireless GPS software navigation solution for the blind and low vision. Well, what do you both think?”

“I see.  Mark, I guess this arrangement will do.  I never liked carrying that SIM card anyway—it always made me itch.  As you know, I don’t need any kind of wireless network provider in order to be able to navigate.  Add to this the fact that I have seniority coupled with my ability to handle more than one active Bluetooth device at a time including an external GPS receiver (unlike some recently hatched flash-in-the-pan hotshots with a lot of silicon-injected gigabytes), I’ll take responsibility for your navigational safety out there on the streets but only if I have a title befitting my unique qualities.” 

I quickly replied, “Yes, of course.  That was always my intention, to be sure.”

“Well, Sweetie, frankly, making music for you is really what I want to do; besides, reading maps gives me headaches.  And by the way, some in this office would be wise to learn that one can get farther by being a smooth and delicious pat of Apple butter than by being an old hard-to-swallow piece of Samsung croquette.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I said to the newest member of Team Taylor.  “I’m quite sure that some in this office will keep that in mind as we do our best to make you feel welcomed.” 

Although positive I was mistaken, as I stood and opened the door to leave my office, I could swear I heard the following dialog: 

“Yeah!  Right!  That’ll be the day.  He’s even dumber than he looks.”

“I know it’s not my place to say as I have only been here for a short time but, well, now that I think about it, he does look kind of simple, doesn’t he?”

(Sound of softly mingled giggles)

The End

It is virtually impossible to live in the Los Angeles area without being inundated and, to some degree, affected by the death of Michael Jackson. 

I will not comment on his legacy or attempt to add a prophetic track to the melody that was his life for only history is qualified to do so.

What I will do is share perhaps my fondest memory of his showmanship, for in this one way, Michael Joseph Jackson (August 29, 1958 to June 25, 2009) for just a little while, made me believe in magic, one last time. 

To what am I referring?

I am, of course, referring to the first time I saw him Moon Walk!

While there are so many things in that era of my life that have long since been forgotten, what I will always remember is the amazingly wonderful, forever unforgettable,  crystal gleaming chill that seemed to envelop the very essence of my soul as I watched him effortlessly, graciously, and oh-so-smoothly turn that two-dimensional stage into a five-dimensional glass glacier as he slid, weightlessly, across my wide-eyed field of vision and into the farthest regions of my hopes, dreams, and imagination. 

Yes, for just a split-second, a once-in-a-lifetime moment, the universe consisted of only the moon, Michael, and me.

As I stated, he made me believe in magic, one last time.

If nothing else, that priceless, timeless gift demands comment.

Click Here to learn how to perform Michael’s legendary Moon Walk.

Brother Michael, “Rest in Peace.”

Most Sincerely,

Mark Marcus
Monday, June 29, 2009

The following is my comment in the growing debate, among some persons with disabilities, as to which wireless platform is superior: 

Family:  The proverbial game is still so very young.  It is far too soon to not question everything and to not challenge anything. 

Therefore, let us be gracious in our assessments and honorable in our acceptance of all knowledge and the fruits there of.

We are the trailblazers of those who are to follow so let us set a higher standard.  Let us not tear, destroy, impede, or in anyway diminish the achievements of others or other entities who seek what we seek; to further the eternal quest of equal accessibility for all.

So Say I on this date in the year of our Lord, Saturday, May 02, 2009.

Most Sincerely,

Mark Taylor

Before I discuss a very handy useful feature of Code Factory’s Mobile Geo, a software GPS navigation solution for the blind and low vision, embrace the following piece and always remember.

The following was recently discovered in an old abandoned cavern over two kilometers beneath the earth’s surface.  It has been translated into English by a team of linguistic experts who readily admit that they had to improvise some of the words due to a lack of understanding of the author’s now extinct dialect. 

[BEGIN SCROLL]
CHAPTER ONE
In a land not far away, a tall dark brown man dressed in formal attire, with a white stick with a red tip pointed downward from his left hand, slowly makes his way into a rural village bustling with noonday activities.  As the villagers spy his approach, they cease their endeavors and stare at the strangely clothed stranger.

In a matter of mere moments, all are silent; nothing can be heard but the sound of the man’s stick tapping the dry tightly packed dirt as he makes his way forward. 

For no discernable reason, the man stops walking and listens to the silence.  Calmly he says, “Is there no one among you who will welcome a stranger?”

CHAPTER TWO
“And that is why I use this stick to forge my path.”  The speaker’s audience collectively replies, “Ah.”

A middle-aged woman dressed in simple summer clothes stands and walks toward the man who is seated in the center of a large circle of villagers.  She cautiously touches the man’s shoulder.  He turns towards her and waits. 

“How doeth Thou know to which corner of the land Thou walk if Thou possess only inner vision?”  With this, she returns to her place in the circle and awaits the man’s response.

“In the land from which I roam, we have many devices created by those who are greater than great and wiser than wise; and with this wisdom, they have forged a tool that describeth to me, and those like me, that with which you spy with your glimpses.”

His astonished audience exclaims, in unison, “Magic!” 

The man quickly retorts, “No!  This is not magic.  It is merely the application of navigational constructs and universal sensory-rotational constants.”

Clearly impressed by his words, though understanding not what they mean, the gathered gazers lower their heads in humble respect.

CHAPTER THREE
The sun has risen 33 times since the mysterious stranger first entered the village.  Since then, he has imparted much knowledge to the villagers.  He has taught them how to better care for the sick and how better to store their seeds for the next planting season.  For these things and much, much more, they are grateful.

CHAPTER FOUR
One day, the stranger, whose name the villagers do not know, is asked to join a hunting party as a symbol of good fortune.  The man complies. 

Two sunrises into the hunt, the youngest of them, the son of she who had posed the first question to the stranger, is wounded.

“Leaveth me,” the brave young soul demands of his comrades.  “You must continue the hunt and provideth that, which we seek, for our mothers, sisters, and elders who await our return.” 

The man, whose name is unknown, says to the wounded warrior for all to hear, “We will leaveth you for only a short time in order to provideth that which we seek for your mothers, sisters, and elders.  We will return to you carrying medicines to heal your wounds. 

A member of the hunting party replies to the stranger’s words saying, “Return to him?  This cannot be done.  Do not speaketh a falsehood to our brother.  Once left, we will never findeth his likeness hence.  We have no way to retrace the path we forge with our glimpses.” 

CHAPTER FIVE
Upon arriving at the village carrying that which was hunted, stories of the stranger’s promise to the wounded son of she who had posed the first question, was whispered from ear to ear.  No one believed the stranger’s words.  No one believed in he who walked with a white stick with a red tip; no one except she who had posed the first question.

CHAPTER SIX
“Who among you will footfall beside me to the place where he who is wounded lies?”  None step forward.  “No matter,” the stranger continues, “provideth Thou medicine with which to heal and I will footfall alone and bring he who is the son of she who posed the first question, back to you.”

With medicine and his white stick with a red tip in hand, the mysterious stranger prepares to exit the village.

The brother of she who posed the first question steps in front of the unnamed man and says, “If Thy footfall beside Thee, will Thou share Thy knowledge?”

With almost no hesitation, the stranger replies, “Thou hast already been given the knowledge.” 

The two men depart from the village. 

CHAPTER SEVEN
Seven sunrises after the unnamed man and the brother of she who had posed the first question left the village, both the son and brother of she who had posed the first question return to the village appearing to be well fed and well rested. 

CHAPTER EIGHT
Sitting in the center of the village circle, the brother of she who had posed the first question says, in response to an inquiry, “He shared his knowledge with me.  He taught me to think beyond thought and to glimpse the unknown.  He demonstrated that those who glimpse with their minds and spirits can glimpse greater glory than we with our bilateral orbs.”

Excited, those seated in the circle demand that he, the brother of she who had posed the first question, share the stranger’s knowledge with them. 

“I cannot.  The knowledge  given to me, forever more, can only be distilled by the passage of time and effort.  He said this is to protect us from Thine own selves.”

Stepping forward towards her brother, she who had posed the first question asks, “Diddeth Thou glean his name?” 

“No. I know not his name, for he has none as he gave his to me before departing.” 

“Brother, what are Yee now called?” 

Speaking slowly and deliberately, the brother of she who had posed the first question says, “From this moment hence, I am called Technology.”

I set this down in my own hand:  Mark Marcus
[END SCROLL]

Well, there you have it.  I tell you, every time I use Mobile Geo, I wonder, I really do.

Question:  How often do you, as mobile Geo users, find yourselves standing or walking beside someone who is desperately trying to remember where he/she parked the car?  Don’t you find it funny when they say something like, “Did we park over there?” as if you can see where they’re pointing. 

The next time you find yourself traveling with a driver who is automobile-parking-location challenged, do the following:

1.
Make sure Mobile Geo is active on your wireless device.

2.
Just as the driver parks the car, in Mobile Geo, tap the Left-Soft key to display the Functions Menu. 

3.
Select Set Position.

4.
Select Use GPS Position.  (Meaning your current GPS location.)

5.
Finally, select, “As Destination”.  Mobile Geo will triangulate your current GPS position and play the “You Have Arrived at Your Destination” indicator.

NOTE 1:
At this point, you may close Mobile Geo secure in the knowledge that when Geo is once again launched, your most recently set destination location will be retained. 

NOTE 2:
To clear the currently set destination:
A.
From the Functions Menu, select Route Functions.
B.
Select Clear Current Destination.  Upon making this selection, you will be returned to the Mobile Geo Main Screen with a message indicating that the Destination was successfully cleared.

Now you may exit the vehicle, eat, drink and be merry for in a little while you will, as did the hunting parties of old:
“Return to that which Thou seek bearing that which Thine tribe requires.”
[Translation:  You will have to find your car in a parking lot nearly the size of Los Angeles while carrying a bunch of expensive junk intended to be gifts for those idiot boobs you call friends.]

Not to worry, should you be faced with this challenge, remove Mobile Geo from your tunic and do one of the following: 

A.
Tap the number 2 on the integrated QWERTY keyboard.  The distance and direction to the currently set Destination will be spoken.

B.
Tap quadrant 2 on the Pocket PC Touch-Screen.  The distance and direction to the currently set Destination will be spoken.

C.
1.
From the Functions Menu, select Route Functions.

2.
Select Create Automatic Route.

3.
Select “Calculate Route Based on Known Origin and Destination”.

4.
Select “Create Pedestrian Route to …”.  A pedestrian route will be created for you.

As was spoken by the First Ones, many, many moons ago, “May the ice-cream of your life be melted only by the sunshine of your joy.” 

Mark

An interesting salutation?  I hope you think so.  By the end of this post, you will certainly understand why I chose to use it.

This past Saturday night, at approximately 11pm , I received a call from an old buddy of mine who asked me if I would like to go grab a cup of coffee at The International House of Pancakes (iHOP).  Since my wife had already retired for the evening and my two feline owners of 15 years, Amy and Rosalie were clearly finding me annoying, I accepted his invitation. 

Don’t worry ladies, I asked my wife if I could go and she sleepily approved.  Believe me, I know the pecking order in this house; my wife, then Rosalie (who adopted me first), then Amy, and finally at the very bottom of the totem pole, me.  (Smile).

But I digress …

Anyway, after he picked me up, he received a call from some friends inviting us over to a popular Los Angeles pub.  Being an old man of 42 and rarely venturing out into the Los Angeles nightlife in favor of staying in and enjoying my comfortable home, I reluctantly agreed.  Remembering how irked my wife had been when I woke her to ask if I could go out, in the first place, I decided to make an actual unilateral decision all on my own, a risk to be sure.  Further, I wanted to spare myself the embarrassment of having to ask her in front of my buddy, a confirmed bachelor who, rightly or wrongly, believes that all married men are spineless jellyfish.  Hmm, I’m starting to believe that, myself. 

I’ll tell you the truth, the real reason I was so very reluctant to go to the pub was because I was all set to enjoy a big warm plate of hot blueberry pancakes drowned in sweet soothing syrup with a side of crispy bacon and a tall cold glass of orange juice, nah, probably cranberry juice, yes, definitely cranberry juice.

I will not bore you with the details of my two hours of torture in a dark, loud, smelly, drunkard infested tavern of hell in which I swore I would never frequent again.

Instead I will fast forward to when my friend and I found ourselves driving up and down mostly dark and deserted Long Beach boulevards desperately searching for some place, no, any place to eat.  Did I mention that neither he nor I live in Long Beach? 

Fighting the urge to reach over and thump my friend on his big bulbous shaven head for having ever called me in the first place (after all, it’s always someone else’s fault), I remembered that I had my beloved Samsung Epix SGH-i907 Smartphone complete with Mobile Geo in my Bat Belt. 

Oh yeah!  I also had to fight the urge to call my wife and say, “HELP!!!!!  Come and get me!!!”  (Smile)

By this time, it must have been around 1:30am, we were totally lost in some big condo development. 

I told my friend to stop the car and just wait.  “Wait for what?” he asked, impatiently.

“Just wait,” I replied as I launched Mobile Geo.

Because I did not have my external Bluetooth GPS receiver, I set Mobile Geo to use the phone’s internal GPS receiver, instead. 

I was absolutely astonished when, in less than 40 seconds, Geo informed me that it was tracking 9 satellites with an accuracy rating within 15 feet.  God!  I love my Epix!  It is an amazing device, worthy of Mobile Geo, to be sure.

With my hands shaking, (for this was a real situation, not a trial test) I decided to search for a Del Taco 24-hour restaurant near my house.

Sensing that my apple-headed friend was about to ask me a banana-brained question, I quickly said, “Just a minute, man; I can do this; this is going to work.”

In the edit field of the Advanced Search Dialog Box, I entered “Del Taco” and chose to search by name.

Within seconds, Geo informed me of the distance and direction to the Del Taco restaurant near my house, two cities away. 

With a feeling of complete triumph I looked over at my friend and said excitedly, “Got it.  We’re n business, brother!” 

“Great,“ he replied.   “Which way do we go?”

“One more minute, all I have to do is create a route and …” 

Tapping the [Enter] key to open the details screen, I tapped the Options button and selected to create a Motorized route to the restaurant. 

Geo instructed us to drive east and turn left. 

After I relayed these instructions to my friend, he asked, “Which way is east?”

To which I replied, somewhat sharply, “I don’t know.  Just drive.”   

He hit the gas and we took off.  Frankly, it felt good to just be moving again; believe me, you don’t want to sit still in the city they call Long Beach.

Within 40 feet or so, Geo informed me that we were off-route and asked if I would like to recalculate.  Feeling as though a guardian angel was watching over us, I tapped the “OK” button.

Almost instantly, Geo recalculated the route and gave new driving instructions. 

From then on, it was smooth sailing all the way to that tantalizing tabernacle of tasty taco tummy temptations.

My buddy, having never used a GPS navigation solution was quite literally beside himself with amazement. 

As my friend dropped me off, safe and sound, in front of my house in the cool crisp southern California Sunday morning sea breeze, all he wanted to know is from where he could purchase Mobile Geo.  Too tired to explain, I said, “I’ll tell you all about it, tomorrow, OK?” 

Revving the engine, he said, “You know, it was like magic, wasn’t it?” 

Tapping a button in my shirt pocket, causing my garage door to open and hoping that my beloved wife would not be awakened by its familiar rattle, I said with a grin spreading across my face and joy flowing through my soul, “Hey!  When you hang out with Mark Marcus, you’re hanging out with magic.”

We both chuckled and with that, I shut his car door and walked into my house, closing my garage door afterwards.
And that’s what I mean when I say, “Mobile Geo is making mobile magic.”

Most Sincerely,

Mark

The name Braille!  Ah, there’s something about your name.  Perhaps it’s special because I know that without you, I would not be what I am and I could not become what I one day hope to be.

Most sincerely,

Mark Taylor
Please Click Here to read more about Monsieur Braille and to learn how you can help further Braille literacy in your community.

The following announcement does not apply to any Candle Shore email subscribers but only to those who use RSS or podcast aggregators to receive updates from Candle Shore.

If you subscribe to the Candle Shore BLOG or the Candle Shore Podcasts via RSS feed or via iTunes or any podcast aggregator, such as the Juice Podcast Receiver, you must update Candle Shore’s feed address, in your applications, to reflect Feedburner’s migration into Google. 

The new feed addresses are listed below:

For the Candle Shore general BLOG, including both articles and podcasts:
http://feeds2.feedburner.com/candleshore

For the Candle Shore Podcasts, only:
http://feeds2.feedburner.com/candleshorepodcasts

Thank you,

Mark

I know we have all had our differences over the years, but I am confident that we have moved passed that now.

There comes a time in one’s life when one has to realize what’s actually important, and our relationship is just that to me. 

I wish there was more that I could give you, but hope that my love and reassurance will quiet the doubts that either of you may have.

Merry Christmas and may we all share a Happy New Year.

Love Always.

Well, just a few more hours and the world’s best known holiday will be upon us.

Christmas!  You know, there is something about that word that moves me.  I know that there are many today who do not celebrate or even acknowledge Christmas but, no matter, like the wind itself, Christmas touches us all whether we see it or not.

As I write this, I am overwhelmed by a heart wrenching sense of homesickness for…  Well, that is the question for all of us, respectively, is it not? 

Perhaps I’m homesick for the beautiful clean white first fall of sweet Kentucky snow.  Perhaps I’m missing that dazzling silver Christmas tree with it shining tinsel, red and blue balls and that magical four-color wheel that seemed to transform it into four sparkling enchanted and seemingly timeless lattices.  Am I missing my grandmother’s homemade boiled custard?  I can still remember how, when I was two years old, she would pour the freshly made warm soothing mixture into my baby bottle and gently hand it to me making sure my tiny hands had a good hold on it before letting go. 

Maybe I’m homesick for the days when, after school, my brother and I would sit in front of the big color television set and watch the Munsters while snacking on our favorite potato chips.   Yeah, I definitely miss my brother.  We did not talk much but it didn’t matter for somehow we always understood each other.  What a wonderful thing, to understand someone, anyone, so completely. 

Even though my soul longs for Christmases of old, my spirit eagerly awaits Christmases to come. 

As I sit here, thousands of miles from the land in which I was born and far from those who love me no more, I know there will be Christmases to come.

As I sit here, at 2:00am on Christmas Eve, my mind turning and churning out of control as I face the seemingly fathomless abyss of tomorrow and the unknown, I still look forward to Christmas for with Christmas, all things are possible. 

To those of you, like me, who somehow always find themselves feeling hopelessly alone on December 25th, to you I say, believe in the possibilities of all those Christmases to come and hang in, hold on, stand up, buckle down, take just one step, and above all else, dream. 

Remember, no matter how lonely you may be, no matter how silly or childish those who are spiritually empty say you are, no matter how low those who are truly blind make you feel, no matter that those who are forever ignorant doubt your abilities, you are someone’s child and you are marvelously special to the universe, your world, and, when it’s all said and done, you are special to me.

Click Here to go to a delightfully fun website where you can test your knowledge of Christmas trivia.  I promise, it will make you smile.

Yes, finally, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Love,

Mark Marcus
December 24, 2008

My Love,
 
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would find you.

But some how, some way, I did for you are here, in my life.

In those moments when you and I lie together, stars crossed in the midnight sky, bodies crossed in the midnight hour, I know that I have, at long last, found perfect love. 

While I know that neither you nor I are perfect, what joins us, the chemistry, the magic, the respect, the admiration, the awe, the life-force itself, transcends perfection and cradles our combined glory in ethereal splendor.

Thoughts of being parted from you make me miss you even when such thoughts are inspired by mere imagination.

I know you feel the same because when you touch me, your touch is softer than soft, sweeter than sweet, deeper than deep, hotter than hot, and more blessed than blessed could ever be,

Words are not clear enough, dreams are not long enough, desires are not powerful enough, consciousness is not wise enough  to explain what we have.

For what we have is that which has never been before nor shall ever be again, perfect love.

With All That I Am,

Mark Marcus
(Sunday, December 07, 2008)

I hope you enjoy this approximately 42 minute show entitled “Make Them Thankful” in which I offer what I hope you will consider wise words of wisdom to those of us who sometimes forget that our proverbial glass of life is half full, not half empty.

Enjoy,

Mark
Episode 32:  Make Them Thankful

It is 3:37am and I am oh so very tired; that is why I am going to enumerate this reply to your voicemail message, OK?

1.
I received your text messages, in addition to your voicemail, earlier today but I was in the middle of posting a new article to my BLOG.  Take a look at it, you may find it useful.

2.
Let me say that my plans have not changed.  In fact, despite the way I feel about your atrocious behavior, it never occurred to me to not accompany you to your appointment, as I promised.  When I give my word, I keep it.  You should know me better than that by now.

3.
I am no longer angry just disgusted and very disappointed in you and your judgment, or lack there of. 

As a pedestrian who was hit by an automobile, landing over twenty-five feet from where the skid marks stopped, because some idiot thought he was good to drive after an evening of guzzling down beers, I cannot adequately express my revulsion at the thought of you, over thirty years passed your age of majority no less, deliberately getting behind the wheel of a car after a night of sophomoric and pointless drinking.

Frankly, the thought of it sickens me and makes me weep for all of those who have lost and will lose their precious lives because of others who will selfishly, senselessly, criminally, and, in the end, viciously engage in such reprehensible behavior.

4.
As you frequently observe, I have proven, time and time again, how much I love you.  What you should also know is that my love is not unconditional.

5.
In case you did not realize, my love is the world’s most precious gift; a treasure deserved only by those who, among other things, treasure the lives of those they do not know and will never meet. 

6.
Drunk driving is the action of one who is not worthy of my love, my compassion, my respect, nor my time.

7.
Unlike you and, sadly, so many of the world’s population, I choose to be my proverbial neighbor’s keeper even though my neighbor, most of the time, couldn’t care less about me.

This is who I am and this is what I do; that is, place my neighbor’s safety above my own convenience.

8.
As you read my words, ask yourself who you are and what do you want to do with the rest of your life.  Regardless the answer, you will never be worthy of anything or anyone so long as you continue to drink and drive, placing your convenience above the safety of your neighbors, one of whom happens to be me.

That’s right.  Did you think about that?  How would you feel if you were to plow into me as I cross the street because you were to inebriated to obey a traffic light?  Are you really willing to put me, your one true friend, so needlessly as risk?  Is my life and the lives of countless others worth less to you than a six-pack of beer, a fifth of whisky, or a bottle of wine?

9.
On behalf of all those whose lives you carelessly put at risk, I cannot forgive you for it is not my place to do so.

10.
I can, however, tell you that I have always valued your friendship and because of this, I will do whatever I can to help you face what will surely be your greatest challenge, yet.

11.
I will not abandon you so long as you acknowledge and accept responsibility for your reckless behavior, not by speaking silly little, pretty little words that will be carried away on the next puff of wind but by actions that will stand the test of time.

12.
This ordeal has definitely taxed the limits of our friendship.  Nevertheless, unless or until you demonstrate that you do not truly regret your decision to drink and drive my life away, by doing it again, my love is with you.

Let’s talk tomorrow, OK?

Most Sincerely,

Mark Marcus

1.
Cry for me. 

Will you not cry for me? 

Why do you not cry for me?

I have seen you cry for the brave, the bold, and the blundering who do nothing but blame you for their misdeeds.

I have seen you cry for the rancorous, the vicious, and the wicked who only seek to destroy you. 

Often have I seen you cry for the rich, the famous, the beautiful, and the well-to-do.

Though rarely, I have even seen you cry for the downtrodden, the peacemaker, and the innocent.

You readily cry for yourself at each opportunity, be it self made or self-fulfilling, of which I do not know. 

2.
Cry for me. 

Will you not cry for me? 

Why do you not cry for me?

For me, it seems, you shed not a tear. 

For me, you only shed vengeance, hatred, disgust, and despair.

For me, you ostentatiously exude darkness, repugnance, and detestation.

You are ghoulishly titillated, stimulated, and vindicated as my ever waning faith in you, in us, shatters into tiny shards of salty liquid glass as your contempt for me, your disdain of me erupts into viscerally-charged verbal mirrors of your soul.    

Gaming me, feigning me, and ultimately blaming me is all you seem to know. 

3.
Cry for me. 

Will you not cry for me? 

Why do you not cry for me?

Have I not been there for you in your darkest hour? 

Was I not there for you, ahead and beyond all others, when the tendrils of terror entwined your thoughts as you lay in the hospital bed?

When you called for me, in the midnight hour, did I not offer my weary arms as I stood up for you, stood up with you, and stood by you in the recovery lair? 

When you cried, did I not cry with you? 

4.
Cry for me. 

Will you not cry for me? 

Why do you not cry for me?

After all I have done and attempted to do for you, for us, you glimpse me as a headmaster does a troublesome pupil, as a canine does a flea, as a vampire does the Holy cross; but there is nothing Holy about your commitment to me.  

Emptiness, hopelessness, and powerlessness is all you wish me to see.

At best, you gaze upon me as though I were a nuisance, an annoyance, a dreary matinee.

5.
Are there no tears for wandering, wondering, Kentucky boys? 

You court hypocrisy, embrace deception, and caress chaos with the enthusiasm of a young lover.

Yet, from me, you turn away.  

6.
I will cry for you, I promise.

I will remember all of the moments you thanked me for crying with you and your true family, of which I was never permitted to join.

I will remember the times when we, you and I, cried together with joy, with hope, with love.

7.
On the last day, I will cry, just as I did on the first. 

During our final moments, what remains of my broken heart will weep just as it does, right now.

Someday, and oh so late, you will come to know that I and only I, cried for you, thus, you were never alone.

And when I close my eyes for the last time, you will yet again not cry, for you will not know.

8.
Cry for me. 

Will you not cry for me? 

Why did you not cry for me? my beloved wife.

You are more than welcome for this little token of my effection.

You know, so often during the course of a day, week, month, year, etc, one can forget her value in life.  As one deals with the day-to-day trials and tribulations of both work and family, it is so easy to forget that she is someone special and, as such, touches the lives of so many in very extraordinary and wonderful ways. 

Sweetie, to this very day, you are among the very, very few in my life who has always made me feel unique and appreciated; it is a very rare gift that I will always hold close to my heart.

So then, perhaps you will understand when I say to you that I have more to thank you for than you, me.

Honey, never forget that, on your worst day, you are more warm, kind, caring, genuine, and gracious than most people are, on their best.
You must never allow anyone or anything to rob you of this knowledge.

Sugar, believe in yourself and there will always be those who believe in you, just as I.

Even though I do not say it often enough, I value your friendship a great deal.

My late grandmother used to say to me when I was a little boy, “Mark, treat good people in your life like gold, treasure them always.”

My friend, you are a very good, good person.  (Smile)

If there is ever anything I can do to help you in anyway, please do not hesitate to let me know; after all, that’s what friends are for.

Most Sincerely,

Mark Marcus

by Mark Marcus
My Dreamer:

The gift I gave you and will give to you again and again was born from the warmth and sincerity of my love

Fancy it and, alas, fancy me; for you are my one true sweet, sly, silly, sultry and seasoned dreamer of old.  

Let my gift embrace your dreams and let its fire ignite the flight that will ferry your thoughts to where they wish to go.

Ease your mind into the mist of my gift, close your eyes, and think of me.

Rest your dark essence upon my immortal hopes and primordial desires; and dream.  Dream of who you are, who I am, and what we will become, together. 

Until we met, I dared not ponder the wonders of the universe nor peer too closely into the shadows of my soul; but then you came unto me and I, to you, and the candles of my own dreams began to glow.

Accept my gift, my beloved dreamer and trust that, as one, we shall never let the dream, the one and only beautiful dream, erode.

Most Sincerely,

Mark Marcus
(August, 2008)

by Mark Marcus
My Love:
 
Do you know where I am now?

I am in a daydream of you and me being together; being together as the tom-toms play.

We are tied together beyond any untying for I am inside you and you, inside me; inside me as the tom-toms play. 

We are swimming through the seas of life, occasionally glimpsing distant islands of uncertainty that keep us not from our destiny of living, laughing, lusting, loving; yes loving, as the tom-toms play. 

Here, time is only a whisper, sorrow but a speck of dust in the wake of the whisper and pain merely an ancient mirage.

Blackness, whiteness, red green yellow and blueness caress us, embrace us, slip slide and go through us as we glide into each other’s light.

We say nothing for words are not enough, feelings are not enough, thoughts are not enough; not even the glory of heaven is enough to capture the power of our love; a power that can only be expressed as the tom-toms play.

Oh My Sweet Baby, wish for me and I will wish for you; for upon that wish our journey will, one day, start.

And as I wake from my daydream I, at long last, discover that the deep, steady, and forever unending sound of the tom-toms is the music you bring to my waiting heart.

My Love:
 
Do you know where I am now?
Mark Marcus
June 15, 2008

by Mark Marcus
I am thinking of you, today, and I smile.  I smile as I remember you, my untouched, unwrapped, and forever unreachable one.

What do I remember?  The way you look, the way you sound, the ease with which you took my love to a higher ground.

I remember the waxing of your flame, the waning of your roar, and how the intensity of your gaze led my soul to a higher floor.

You made me yours at the beginning, even from the start, not with words or gestures but with the power of your convictions that inflated and enraptured my all but forgotten heart. 

Being yours was uncertain, being yours was Hell, until that moment when I realized that torment isn’t so  bad when suffered at a higher level.

Do you think of me?  For this I pray and for this I hope as even the memory of you makes me feel as though I am afloat, in a glorious chariot of fire. 

I thank you, my darling, I thank you,  my love, for sharing the sweet and secret songs of your dreams and emotions gifted by an angelic choir.

You are mine and mine alone, in the quiet still misty midnight hour, for you and you alone dared enough, cared enough to take me a little higher.

I was just thinking about my favorite television commercial of all time.  The title of the 1971 Coca-Cola advertisement is “I’d Like To Teach The World To Sing”. 

Click Here to watch it now.

To read a college level essay I wrote about this landmark production, Click Here.

Enjoy,

Mark