Hi. I’m Hal and this is Living in a Body. Please click the play button above to listen to the podcast version of this publication. It includes original music played on the RAV drum! Also, I’d love it if you’d share this post with one friend. Thanks!!
Alphabet of Gratitude, Part Two
During this season of Thanksgiving, I’ve been writing an extended alphabet of gratitude. Over the course of three weeks, from letter “A” to letter “Z,” these are the things for which I’m grateful. Today, we’ll cover the second third of the alphabet —from “J” to “Q.” Please feel free to share your J-Q gratitude list in the comments.
J for Julie and Johanna
When it comes to sisters, I'm truly a blessed man. Last week, I expressed my gratitude for the youngest, Caroline, and this week, I want to say how grateful I am for the two olders -- Julie and Johanna. Each a caring powerhouse in her own right, the combination of these three women in my life is a force to be reckoned with. I could never express enough my gratitude for the way that Julie, Johanna and Caroline have shown up for me through this illness.
When I'm struggling, Johanna encourages me to "go early." She asks me to delve into the places where little Hal didn't get his needs met. With Johanna, I have the freedom to say out loud the things that the younger version of myself never got to express. In the realm of healing and presence, Johanna takes a radical approach. I'm so grateful that she exists.
Julie, on the other hand, fills in on the more practical side of things. Having recently started a new career as an 8th grade English Language Arts teacher in the LA public schools, she's one of the most high functioning people that I know. If I need someone to help fill out a form, build a website or encourage me to live another day, Julie's the go-to sister.
When it's seems that there's no one in the world who could possibly understand and I just need a shoulder to cry on, I call Julie, Johanna or Caroline. These three sisters have helped me get through some rough times in this last year. I'm so grateful.
K for Kent
In my younger days, I yearned to live in a town that was a little bit cooler than Kent. Kent just wasn't quite hip enough for me. I wanted more music in the street and more hippies in the park. I wanted more harmonica playing, bike riding, frisbee throwing revolutionaries just like me. I wanted a natural foods bakery with the perfect muffin. I wanted Boulder or Asheville or Eugene, but what I had was Kent. I ventured away a couple times, but I never really left. I just yearned for more.
In 1994, after a brief stint in New York and then Boston, I wrote a song called Come Home. The lyrics went like this, "There's no more time for wandering from city to city looking for the perfectly cool community to make me perfectly happy." I was beginning to realize the truth that no matter where I go in the world, it's just a similar version of myself that I'll find there. In the song, I proclaim the banks of the Cuyahoga River to be my home and I make a vow to stay. It's taken time, but after all these years, I'm finally settling into my hometown. At this point, I can’t imagine myself going anywhere else.
Today, I'm about as much of a Kent man as anyone can be. When I walk out my door, I'm in Kent. This town is in every corner of my house and it's in my garage too. Kent is in the front yard and it's in the back yard. Kent carries me into town to pick up the groceries and it's stamped on the case of every musical instrument that I own. When I die, they’ll know that I was from Kent. I'm grateful for this town. I'm grateful for Kent, Ohio.
“Kent, Ohio I know that I'm home when I'm, oh, in Kent, Ohio.”
L for Living in a Body
In 2021, when my symptoms were at their worst, I didn't think I'd survive to see the Spring. My body was crashing on a weekly basis and it seemed that there was no end in sight to the worsening of the illness. The phrase, "the endless pit of suffering of ME/CFS" lodged itself in my brain. I experienced first hand why suicide is the number one cause of death of patients with severe versions of this wretched illness. I asked my sisters if they'd help me come up with alternatives to living if my situation continued to get worse.
This morning though, I woke up in a soft bed about 15 feet above the ground. I can breath, I can see, I can taste and I can feel. Lately, my symptoms have plateaued at a more manageable level and I'm grateful to be alive. I'm grateful for hands that grasp and feet that balance. I'm grateful for ears that hear and a jaw that bites. I'm grateful for the skin that keeps everything so nicely wrapped up inside. It's not easy waking up in this particular body every morning, but it sure beats the alternative. Today, I'm grateful to be living in a body.
M for Mango
For the last four and a half months, I've had a full-time live-in caregiver. Mango showed up in my life just when I needed him the most. He's been such a wonderful companion, a delightful housemate and a profoundly generous helper. He left for Kenya last Sunday, so I'm spending the week discovering just how independent I actually am. I'm feeding the cat, preparing the meals, watering the plants, doing the dishes and putting myself to bed all on my own — in hopes that it all doesn’t bring on a major crash. It's been a tough week and a big transition.
Mango's gone now, but he left a strong presence in the house. The place is cleaner than I've ever seen it before, there were nine pre-made salads waiting for me in the fridge when he left and the prayers that Mango spoke every night on my behalf are still lingering in the air:
Dear Lord, Dear Father, thank You for this evening. Thank You for everything. God, Father. You know the reason why you connected me with Hal. Father God, your name should be lifted up. You put me together with Hal. We've been as good family. Lord, Father, I humbly request you. Dear Lord. It's not that easy. But we want to believe in you. May you continue covering him, Oh Lord, Father God. May you be with him. Oh, Father, God. It's winter time, God, Father. But I believe. I do believe that You are here. That's my faith God, Father. I have the strong faith. You're going to protect him. You're going to be with him. You're going to take care of him God Father. Father, God my request from you God. May you give him power. May you add him knowledge. May you strengthen him. May you be with Him. May you bring all the angels God Father, I request you. I pray because I believe that you're going to honor my request. Father God. — Bonnie M. Mango
I grateful for my brother, Mango. He and I are family now.
N for Nieces and Nephews
Not only am I a dad, a son and a brother, but I'm also an uncle. I've got six awesome nieces and nephews. While I've been lying here in bed, they've been busy growing up into teenagers and young adults. In order of age, there's Alex, Charles, Lucas, Anna, Hunter and Leo. A couple of them live nearby but the rest live far away. I look forward to the rare occasions when I get to see them.
As I'm writing this, it occurs to me very sadly that as an uncle, I've been missing-in-action for a while now. I've been so wrapped up in this illness that I've lost contact with this wonderful youthful part of my family tree. Thanks to this realization, I've started a text exchange with each of my six nieces and nephews. Out of the blue, today, they each received a text from their Uncle Hal wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving.
They say that gratitude is an action and I believe it. I'm grateful for the inspiration to connect that this alphabet of gratitude is bringing me. I'm interested in the possibility of some sort of renewed connection with my nieces and nephews. I'll let you know what happens as I ease into these text messages.
O for Oatmeal
Even though I've got all kinds of bodily complaints, I'm glad to sat that my elimination system is working quite nicely. As my grandmother might have said, I'm so glad to be regular. I'm grateful for the role that oatmeal plays in the regulating process.
Just like my dad, on most mornings, I eat a medium sized bowl of oatmeal. I boil the rolled oats in water and I add a pinch of salt. I always have some fruit on top and I always add a tablespoon of olive oil for the fat. With six ounces of soy milk on the side, it gives me a good start to the day. I like the taste, I like the texture and I like the fact that I can always count on a good bowel movement after breakfast. There. I said it... and I'll say it one more time. I'm grateful for oatmeal and all it’s intestinal benefits.
P for Mr. Pollack
When I was in high school, I had a teacher that taught me how to write a paragraph. For three years out of the four, my English teacher was Mr. Pollack. I consider him to be the most influential teacher that I ever had. He instilled in me a love for writing and a passion for building sentences.
A couple months ago, I gave Mr. Pollack a phone call to say “thank you.” Here's the first part of our conversation.
Mr. Pollack: Hello.
Hal: Hello, may I speak with Bill pollack?
Mr. Pollack: This is he.
Hal: Mr. Pollack. This is an old student of yours, Hal Walker.
Mr. Pollack: Oh, sounds familiar.
Hal: I was a student of yours for three years back in the early 80s…. And you were one of my most influential teachers.
Mr. Pollack: I'm glad to hear that. Three years though…. That's unusual. I remember your name. I just retired after 56 years of teaching. I taught 32 in Ohio and 24 in Nevada.
Hal: Wow. Well, I had you freshman year, and then you moved up to sophomore. And then when I was a senior, you moved up to be the senior teacher.
Mr. Pollack: Now was it AP English or honors English?
Hal: Yeah. Honors English. 1982, 83 and 84.
Mr. Pollack: Okay,
Hal: Lately, I've been making my living as a writer. I'm just always so grateful for the way that you taught me how to write a paragraph.
Mr. Pollack: Well, you don't realize how great I feel with your phone call. I mean, that's, that's the kind of thing that really makes me love my life. ...to hear you say that. And I've had some other people contact me too, over the years... teaching gave my life meaning. And that's what I loved about it.
What a great guy. I hope to do a full interview with Mr. Pollack one of these days. Thank you, Mr. Pollack. My Substack community thanks you as well.
Q for Quiet
In my house, there's a set of three large bay windows that face the south. In 2020, I filled those windows with houseplants. I've got a money tree, an olive tree, a ficus tree and a few others that I don't know the names of offhand. Through the short days of the winter, the sun streams through that window all afternoon and makes the plants very happy.
Lately, I've been noticing how quiet the plants are. They just sit there and wait for the sun to shine and then when the sun goes away, they just keep sitting there being plants. They're so happy and so quiet. I've got a lot to learn from these houseplants.
Even though I've got constant ringing in my ears, my house is quiet. I'm grateful for that quiet. There's no TV blaring, no NRP pumping in the news and no stereo system filling the space with sound. It's just the plants, quietly soaking up the sun and providing a friendly jungle for me and my cat, Willie.
Thank you so much for reading. I hope you’ll leave your J-Q gratitude list in the comments… or just say hello. I love to hear from you. Have a great Saturday and as always, enjoy living in that body of yours. Look forward to next week when it will be “R” through “Z".” Have a good week. All the best, Hal.
Alphabet of Gratitude, Part Two