Goodbye Dolly

Live your life in a way that, when you pass, hundreds of millions of people feel like they have lost a loved one. That is the sentiment I felt while scrolling social media after the death of music icon and humanitarian icon Dolly Parton at age 80 this week.

Her music touched generations, but her contributions to society touched so many more. She made life better for countless people whom she never met. I have been reading dozens of stories from celebrities and ordinary people about their interactions and connections to Dolly.

Anything I could write about her life and career could easily be found by doing a quick Google search. I won’t waste time telling you things you could easily find yourselves. I never met her. I don’t have any stories of interacting with her. However, one thing I can do is explain why she had meaning to me in my life.

At the root, it’s actually quite simple. Dolly Parton reminded me of my Nina, and vice versa. They both were tiny, smart, beautiful, full of fire, and owners of a lot of blonde hair that may or may not have been theirs.

When I was a kid in the 1980s, my Nina felt to me like she was a mix of a whole lot of Dolly and a large dash of Tina Turner. No, she wasn’t a celebrity. She did run the first all-women’s fitness center on Cape Cod, and she was a great jazz singer, along with my Grampa, but not famous. Above all else, she was a genuinely loving and caring person who made you feel like you mattered when you were around her. That, I believe, is how Dolly made people feel.

There were times throughout my life when I felt like in some alternate timeline Dolly Parton was my Nina and my Nina was a world-famous entertainer. My Nina definitely could command a room, and Dolly had said that because she couldn't have children, she was 'everybody's mother.' So maybe I wasn't too far off.

It’s interesting. I have never shared that story or those thoughts ever. I’m not sure why. Maybe it sounded weird to compare my grandmother, who I knew, to celebrities I likely would never meet. Maybe I was afraid of being mocked or ridiculed. Not by my family, mind you; I am sure my Nina would have found it flattering. I mean, after all, I was comparing her to two titans of the entertainment world. Still, I kept that little anecdote locked away until now.

To sum it up, in a small way, losing Dolly Parton felt like losing my Nina again.

My Nina and Dolly Parton at roughly the same age, around 40.

My introduction to Dolly was through her seminal film 9 to 5. It was released in 1980, when I was three years old. I didn’t see it then, but it was on rotation on cable during the mid 1980s. Having a young mother and three sisters meant that I was dealt a heavy dose of female-led movies. 9 to 5 was one among many, including Dirty Dancing and Mannequin.

I can remember seeing Dolly in 9 to 5 and being amazed at how much she reminded me of my Nina. Granted, I was probably seven or eight, but that young perception became reality.

As I grew up, I learned of how important and accomplished she was almost by accident. When I heard Whitney Houston sing ‘I Will Always Love You,’ I learned that Dolly Parton wrote it. When I heard this really great Hawaiian jam called ‘Islands In the Stream’ by a group called Ten Feet, I learned that Dolly Parton sang the original with Kenny Rogers.

Later on in adulthood, I learned of her enormous impact outside of music. I was battling depression and questions of self-esteem and self-worth throughout my twenties. This is where I began to seek out inspirational quotes and just general quotes about life and healing.

When you feel lost, confused, maybe a bit worthless, you look for something, anything, to provide a little clarity. I didn’t look to just anybody. I looked for words of wisdom from people who not only succeeded, but did it as genuinely good people.

This is where Dolly Parton played her second important role in my life. She provided comfort and familiarity since I saw her in some ways as a stand-in for my Nina as a child. Then, as an adult, her words provided light in dark times.

Sure, there were other people whose quotes helped to part the dark clouds around my mind, but Dolly was as important as any of them. I am certain that there are so many others like me who were shown care without her even realizing it.

Dolly left such a wide range of gifts to the world that I think it would be hard not to be moved or inspired by something she did. Her skill as a musician, a lyricist, a singer, and an overall presence likely was enough. Her philanthropy, at the very least, equaled her musical prowess.

For me, there are a few of Dolly’s quotes that remain important in my life. I mentioned earlier battling depression off and on throughout my adulthood. I also have been on a creative journey for decades.

I wanted to be a writer from the time I was eight. I wanted to be a filmmaker starting in high school, even purchasing a big, bulky Sears camcorder in 1994. I always felt my path didn’t involve a (no pun intended) nine-to-five job. I always wanted, no needed, to be something more than that.

Maybe that goes back to the self-worth and confidence issues stemming from childhood. Maybe I felt that if I wasn’t greater than expected, I would be seen as far less than. But how do you chase your dreams and still stay true to who you are inside? Ask Dolly Parton.

The quotes that feed my soul have to do with each of those things I mentioned.





Those both speak to me. One, in terms of dealing with the hard times, for me, the bouts of depression and self-doubt. Secondly, the feeling that walking the same path as most others just didn’t fit who I wanted to be.

Many of you reading this likely have other Dolly quotes that speak to you. That’s the idea. We might all enter this orbit of grief and admiration from different roads, but they all end up connecting in the end.

That might be Dolly’s greatest gift. She unified so many people. Her death felt like losing a loved one to likely hundreds of millions of people. There are very few celebrities who are as universally loved and admired as Dolly Parton.

I have seen many people I admired in the entertainment industry pass away; very few have I felt the urge to write my own thoughts about. Even as I write this, I periodically stop and scroll social media to read stories of Dolly from fans and other celebrities.

She might have left this world, but there are still gifts from her to come in the years ahead. I have read things about a musical of her life, dolls, dog treats, coffee, and best of all, an unreleased song. That last one we have to wait until her 100th birthday in 2046, though.

Dolly Parton might be gone, but the stories told of her will keep her alive. Just as my Nina might be gone, but I do my best to keep her memory alive. This includes sharing a very private, if not a little embarrassing, story of how she reminded me of Dolly and vice versa. 

Goodbye Dolly. You left an impact on this world far greater than most people could ever dream. Thank you for reminding me of my Nina. Thank you for your words to remind me that “if you tell yourself enough nice things, eventually, you’ll believe them too.”

If you happen to bump into my Nina, maybe you could sing a duet, lead a fitness class, or exchange hair tips? We will always love you, Dolly. And I will always love you, Nina.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #121: Aging Gracefully, Mall Dreams, Fox Family Fun, etc.

1. I am now at the point where I feel weird if I am not actively involved in watching a show on Netflix. I finished the Stranger Things animated spin-off and rolled right into the thriller series His & Hers. That was also really good. It was only 6 episodes, though, so I ran through it in less than a week. Now I have moved on to another suspense/thriller series, The Beast In Me, starring Claire Danes. I already like this one as well. I must admit it’s different seeing the same Claire Danes from My So Called Life as a middle-aged actor, but it can’t be that strange since she and I are basically the same age. It must be something about aging. Like when I was 15, seeing someone near 50, they looked old. Now at 48, I look at Claire Danes, who is 47, and she looks great. She looks her age but has aged well. Not sure how to describe it. Is it something in our minds that makes us look at age differently when we reach those same numbers? 48 doesn’t look old anymore because I am it. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if I still think Claire Danes looks great when we’re both in our 80s.

2. I have gotten a lot of positive feedback on my driving videos on social media. I extend my selfie stick up through my moon roof and lock it into place while I take a drive to somewhere on Cape Cod. I typically drive to a beach. Luckily, there are a lot of beaches for me to showcase on social media. The question remains though, what happens when I run out of beaches? I suppose I could just drive every random road. It would be the law of diminishing returns, though. I got from driving to a beautiful beach, and then it goes to me driving to the nearest Cumberland Farms or Dunkin’ Donuts. The more I think about it, the more I believe that there would be an audience. It would likely be old-time Cape Codders who would want to comment by mentioning what used to be located where I was driving. We’ll see if it comes to that. I still have a long way to go until then.



3. I have vivid dreams quite often. I also am pretty good at lucid dreaming, which is when you become aware you are dreaming and basically can start to control and manipulate things. That being said, I can’t tell myself before I sleep that I will dream of X, and then it happens. So when I have had a pair of vivid dreams over the last few weeks that include me hanging out with family and friends at some sort of 1990s mall, it must mean something. Either I miss hanging with certain people, or I miss standing around in the mall with nothing to worry about except whether I can afford something from the food court and a new CD. The first dream had family, including my three sisters, but also my Nina, who passed in 2021. We were out in front of where Filene’s used to be in the old Cape Cod Mall. The second one was weirder, including one sister and another good friend. The weird part was that the mall was a circle with five long hallways extending out from the circle. This is where the stores were, including Kmart and a Hallmark store. To top it off though, there was a kiosk that was selling pretzels stuffed with buffalo peanut butter. I am assuming buffalo like the spice, not like the animal, but I didn’t try one, so who knows?


4. Over the last 30 years, I have tried pretty much everything when it comes to supplements and energy drinks. There have been some that I have really liked and thought that they were well worth the price, and possible risks. I have tried some things that have been banned, like Ephedra Tea. I have tried things that have had their formulas changed, like Jack3d and NO Explode. I have tried things that have been discontinued, like Speed Stack. That being said, I have never tried an energy drink because its name made me laugh. That changed this week. I am sure some of you have heard of BUM Energy. I had never had a desire to try it until I saw one of their flavors. Dr. BUM. Just its name makes me laugh. It sounds like a name that should be reserved for a superhero proctologist. If you have it, you will quickly notice that it’s a take on Dr. Pepper. I like it, but the name bumped a 6/10 drink to an 8/10. Ha ha, Dr. BUM.


5. It was a comedy of errors this week, one day at work. The rest of the staff was done early, but I had more than an hour to wait for my last client to show up to train. I wasn’t sure if she was going to make it, so a text was sent to try to confirm. I didn’t want to sit around and wait for nothing. Unfortunately, mere minutes after that text was sent, an auto text went out to remind her of the appointment, so she never saw the previous one. So I waited. Another patient had forgotten their coat, and they were coming in to get it. I had to wait by the front door since there was nobody at the desk. While I was chatting and handing off the coat, my computer decided to install updates and restart. It took way too long to come back on, and then when it did, I had trouble remembering the password since we recently changed it. I was figuring the client would have responded to the text by then. By the time I was back online, my last client was late. I needed to take the trash out, but didn’t want to have her show up to an empty office while I was outside. In the end, she did show up, 25 minutes late, as I was reaching for the front door to lock it. We still did the full training session, plus I was getting paid, so it was no big deal.


6. After seeing a pallet of sod rolls while out on a walk this week, I am suggesting that we change their name to ‘grass Yodels.’ You can’t look at a roll of sod and not tell me it looks like a green, far less tasty, version of the snack cake. If you want to call them Swiss grass Rolls, I will accept it as well. Not sure how much more expanding on this random, foolish idea I can do. It made me laugh, and of course, I have photos so that you can now not unsee the similarity. I will say, don’t try to eat a grass Yodel. Hey, I can’t stop you if you’re really determined to eat grass, but I can say I tried.

7. It was seven years ago this week that my hero, my Grampa, passed away. He was the epitome of strength right up until the last several months when dementia finally got its claws into him. Despite being gone for so long, I do my best to keep him as a part of my life. Upon his death, my mother gave us kids each a green Irish Beanie Baby, sort of representing Grampa. I have that on hand at all of my author events. I also have his old compass. It is about a hundred years old and makes for a great photo prop. This week, to remember him, I went past my grandparents' old house on my walk. They lived there back in the 1990s, but outside it still looks the same, so it’s a nice flashback. In the afternoon, I took the compass and my new large crystal ball and went for a photo trip to the local beaches. I know one particular beach where there is a cherry blossom tree. My Grampa was a jazz singer, and we kids all remembered him singing ‘It looks like rain in Cherry Blossom Lane.’ I like combining the cherry blossoms with the compass. The photo session mostly consisted of me trying to balance the giant crystal ball and the compass on branches in the tree. The last thing I wanted was having the compass fall and the ball drop on it, and both smash. It ended up going well, as you can see in the photo.



8. I always admire and get a bit jealous of nature photographers. I can’t afford a $10K zoom lens, so typically I have to settle for long-distance shots. Then again, sometimes I get lucky. While at the same beach where I was shooting the crystal ball and compass, I noticed something, actually several somethings. I was trying to set up a photo when I saw a fox sitting on the other side of the parking lot. Even better was that behind the fox I spotted three little kits, or pups. My crystal ball photos immediately took a back seat to filming little foxes jumping and playing. It was the type of video I’d always hoped for but never expected. During the half hour or so that the foxes were around, the babies played, and the mother left and then returned with dinner for the little ones. I think it was a rabbit. At one point, the mother circled me, but not menacingly. She had spotted what looked like a chicken leg that some dumbass had just left in the grass. So I had the mama fox behind me and the babies in front. The only thing I didn’t get that I wanted was the babies coming and inspecting my camera. I kept leaving my camera on the tripod in different areas where the babies were hanging out. I had my remote shutter and was hoping they would be curious. Nah, once the mother brought back dinner, they all retreated. I plan on going back to that spot next week to see if I get lucky again.



9. I returned to the new Parker’s River Landing in Yarmouth this week to visit my Uncle Eric’s memorial plank on the boardwalk. This time, though, it was a family affair as his son, my cousin Patrick, and a few longtime family friends, went to toast to him. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we shared a few stories and laughs, but it was bittersweet. My uncle’s death three years ago wrecked me. Most don’t know how badly. This is mainly because I don’t talk about it since I believe nobody would listen or care. I have learned as I get older that few people will actually listen to you. For the most part, people wait for you to stop talking so they can then try to one-up you with whatever issue is going on. ‘You think that’s bad, well I have X going on.’ So I just keep it to myself, or blogs like this. I look to my cousin and aunt and see how they hold it together, so I owe it to them to do the same. I mean, if they can pull through after losing their father and husband, what right do I have to feel so bad about losing my uncle, right?

10. After visiting my uncle’s plank it was time to venture over to his favorite restaurant, Capt. Parker’s. Luckily, it is literally right across the street from the park. We walked over, having to wait for kind drivers to let us cross the busy Rt. 28. Hopefully, they will put a crosswalk in there because we aren’t the first, and sure won’t be the last, to try to walk across to Capt. Parker’s. The food was great. The prices were fine, depending on what you got. Fried chicken sandwich, $17, I guess that’s to be expected in this day and age. Fisherman’s Platter? $45. Nah, I’ll pass. I could get myself food to make 6-7 meals for that price. The best is the several items that were listed as ‘market price.’ This basically means they can charge as much as they want and say it’s because of how much the product costs, typically lobster. Thankfully, I can’t stand lobster, so I’d never have to play the guessing game of ‘market price’ before having to make a car payment on a child’s handful of lobster in a roll. We enjoyed our food and then, to make sure we got our money’s worth, stayed an extra hour chatting and laughing, all while the waiter kept walking by. Hey, we paid, and you got a good tip, so relax.

11. It is mid-May, so to no surprise this was the week to get my first sunburn. It wasn’t bad. The day was sunny and low 60’s and breezy by the water, so I had a thin long-sleeve shirt on. Plus, now that I have hair and don’t shave my head weekly, I don’t have to worry about sunburns on my scalp. Those sucked, I probably could have fried eggs on my head. This time it was just my forehead and the back of my neck. Well, and one other area. The long sleeves covered just below my wrists for the most part. At the end of the day, I ended up with half of my hands red. It literally looked like I had stuck my fingers in boiling water. I guess that’s not as bad as getting the driving tan where one arm is red, and the other is not, from resting your arm on the open window while driving.

I Appreciate You, Grampa

I appreciate you, Grampa.

When you’re young, you look around you for people to emulate. You don’t start life looking to be like someone you see on television or hear on the radio. It is typically those closest to you who form the first impressions of life and what you want to do and be when it comes to your own. If you are lucky, you have one or more good role models to choose from.

As a young boy in the early 1980s, I was looking for someone like that to show me the way. I needed someone to be the guiding light, to teach me how to live not just as a boy but all the way up through life as a man.

I looked to my father. My first memories of him are not those of a parent, nor those of a male role model. My first memories of my father are of a man who acted more like an older friend. He had funny jokes to share. In fact, he taught me a lot of what would later become my own wacky and sarcastic sense of humor.

He taught me about the Three Stooges. He introduced me to Foreigner, Steely Dan, Kate Bush, and, for some reason, called every cat he ever saw ‘Goot,’ which was the name of his cat when he was a teenager. I loved my cat Tigger when I was a teen, but don’t call every cat by that name, so it’s a bit odd.

We had cookouts on Sundays. Sometimes we’d go on trips to local playgrounds. Christmas and Easter dinners aplenty. It all sounds great, right? When compartmentalized, it does, but it was window dressing. The one thing my father never taught me was anything about how to be a man. The one thing he never showed me was love outside of awkward handshakes and pats on the back.

I saw him once or twice a week for most of my childhood. He and my mother had gotten divorced when I was very young. He was not interested in being a parent. Oh, sure, he enjoyed what creates a child, but couldn’t wrap his head around being there for said child.

The final straw came when he passed out on the couch and allowed me, as a toddler, to wander out our front door after dark wearing only a diaper. My mother, coming home from work, spotted me with my blanket walking under a streetlight. Sure, mistakes can happen, but the lack of responsibility from a parent was staggering.

That’s not to mention the times he would leave my sister and me, as toddlers, home alone so he could go out. Neighbors would tell my mother they’d hear my infant sister crying from her room.

There was the time my mother gave him a professional portrait of my sister and me, and he proceeded to tack it up to a corkboard at a bar. My aunt found it and called my mother. I found out when I was in my 40s that my father offered to waive all parental rights to get out of paying child support.

You read that right. He wanted to disown his children so he wouldn’t have to pay his fair share to help support the people he helped to create. What stopped it from happening? My mother told him my Nana would then not be able to see her grandchildren. This stopped him from disowning us, but didn’t make him care enough to pay full child support.

He would quit jobs abruptly when child support came calling. He would make plans with us kids and stand us up to go to a bar. Of course, none of this was wrong in his mind, and my mother was evil for daring to hold him accountable again for the children he helped to create. I was too young to see what a rotten excuse for a father he was.

As I got older and started working, my father was right there to be the first to ask for money. It is an odd feeling to have someone who is a parent in name only constantly wanting to use you as their own personal ATM. It was nearly every time I was in the car with him, he’d say his typical 'Do you got any dough?’ line. Still wanting his approval, I loaned him, sorry, gave him, money that likely ended up being somewhere north of $2,000 in total while in high school. He would tell me he’d pay me back, but I likely recouped little more than half of what he got.

Giving money to help out a parent who supports, feeds, clothes, and houses you is not a big deal. Doing the same for someone you saw a handful of hours a week at best was a damning indictment of what I thought a man was. He neglected me unless he needed money.

The older I got, the more I learned that my father had shown me a blueprint of how not to be a man. He was lazy, selfish, immature, a drunk, and a professional victim who, to this day, cannot accept that the fact that his children and grandchildren want nothing to do with him is his fault alone.

So I could not count on my father to show me the way as far as being a man. Hell, I had openly wished either of his two brothers had been my father. I then looked to his replacement, my first stepfather.



The first memories I have of my stepfather were confusion. I wondered aloud where my father was when confronted with this new man. I am not sure if my resistance to him caused immediate resentment toward me. He was around more and more. It became obvious that he was going to be in my life whether I wanted it or not.

When he was first around, my new stepfather was in the throes of alcoholism. He did give it up, and that is to be commended, as I know all too well how hard it is to slay that demon. However, that is where the commendation toward him ends.

If you look at it from a wide view, my life improved with my stepfather. He provided a roof over my head, helped with clothing, food, and medical care for my sister and me, despite us not being his kids. But the saying goes, ‘you don’t know what goes on behind closed doors.’ I know it because I lived it.

My stepfather was physically and verbally abusive to me, full stop. I don’t remember the first time I was hit or told I was nothing, but they became a part of my life in childhood up to midway through high school. Maybe it was when he had his own kids with my mother that he really began to look at me as an annoyance that needed to be kept in line. I don’t know what was in his mind and really don’t care.

I was an honor student. I never got in trouble. I did my best to be a positive example for my four younger siblings. Yet still I was routinely hit with belts, wire hangers, or just plain old hands when he was too lazy to grab something. I can only imagine my fate if I were a problem child. I guess in his mind, I was.

Things escalated when my brother and twin sisters were born. Now I was truly an outsider in his family. There was always favoritism shown toward my brother. If I told on him I got hit. If he did something and I didn’t tell on him, I got hit for letting it happen. There were times my brother got in trouble, and I got it too, maybe just to make sure I didn’t think I was special. There are times when I feel bad. My brother has caught strays in life from me because I hate his father so much, but that falls on his father and not me.

I was a witness to him abusing my mother when he thought the coast was clear. That night, she called the police. I, barely 10 years old, was hiding under the kitchen table. I listened to him deny things I saw. My mother was the one who always had my back, so I owed it to her to have hers. I stepped out from under the table and told the police what I saw, in full view of my stepfather.

I don’t know if anything came of it as far as the police went. I do know that I became his target after that. It came to a head in the basement, likely a few days later. The door was closed, and I was handed a miniature basketball. My stepfather said all I had to do was score one basket in my basketball hoop stuck to the wall. It was not so easy.

I was kicked, hit, tripped, and shoved by a grown man twice my size. Why? Because I dared to call out his spousal abuse to the police. Once I finally scored, he smugly said to me ‘nice shot.’ Then he left me in a puddle of shame and embarrassment on the basement floor. In his evil, warped mind, he likely thought he was teaching me to be a man. In reality, he taught me anger and hatred like nothing I have ever felt before or since.

For years, I was beaten down physically and emotionally. I was told my feelings and my problems didn’t matter. Things that meant the world to me were meaningless according to him. I learned the only way I could safely navigate life in that house was to make myself as small as possible. There are too many other incidents to speak of. Just know that most of my childhood was a constant fight or flight loop that made a day where I only got yelled at feel like I was getting an award on stage in front of adoring fans.

These things from childhood remain issues for me to this day. My confidence and self worth, they are tied to two men who are poor examples of that word. A father who didn’t care, and a stepfather who abused me.

Eventually, my mother had had enough, and my stepfather was kicked out of the house. It was one of the best days of my life. Where I kept giving my father the benefit of the doubt for decades too long, I was all too happy to begin erasing the memory of my stepfather. However, my simmering rage wanted revenge.

I began working out at sixteen. I had weights, a bench, and a heavy bag. I vividly remember scuffing up my knuckles, hitting that bag with all my might until it came crashing down from the beam. All I could see was my former stepfather’s face.

Sure, I could say I was working out to possibly play sports, but that was not the main reason. I didn’t want to feel helpless anymore. I wanted to gain strength to feel confident. I wanted to gain strength so I could get my revenge on him.

The bottom line is, I wanted to do as much physical harm to my former stepfather as possible. If I ended his life, so be it. He deserved whatever came to him because of what he did to my mother and me. He is still alive today. I did not follow through with any bad thoughts. It was my second stepfather, my current stepfather, who was able to get through to me. It was he whom I first confided my anger toward that former stepfather.

By this time, I was eighteen and could have been arrested and tried as an adult. It was that fact that stopped me. It was my new stepfather who showed me through words and actions that it wasn’t all men who were evil. I was just dealt a bad hand with the first two ‘most important’ men in my life being neglectful and/or abusive.



We come all the way full circle. I appreciate my Grampa because I was able to find the role model I needed. Where my father and first stepfather didn’t have the capacity as men to be decent husbands and fathers, my Grampa excelled. He worked hard. He stayed true to my Nina for over 70 years. He was firm but loving to his children. He was, and always had been, the example I was looking for.

It’s not that I didn’t appreciate my Grampa when I was growing up. When you’re treated well by someone for a few hours of cumulative time in a year, but the rest of your time is spent being ignored or fearing a heavy hand, the good times don’t make a dent. It wasn’t until I got out of my teenage years and my father and former stepfather became less relevant to my life that the light that as my Grampa started shining through.

Some could say that grandparents are naturally seen as angels compared to parents because parents are the ones who have to dole out the discipline. Grandparents are more apt to let the grandkids do whatever they want. That is usually true, but I’ll use my father as Exhibit A. He has three grandkids, and I guarantee he doesn’t know their birthdays or middle names. I am thinking he hasn’t seen them in many years, despite living relatively close to them all. So no, not all grandparents are made the same.

I felt seen and appreciated by my Grampa. He had genuine advice. He had genuine, kind words that made me feel worthy. In my 20s and 30s, it was my Grampa and my current stepfather, Serpa, who began to paint over my image of what I thought a ‘man’ was.

It was my Grampa who was at many of my author events, not my father. It was my Grampa whom I confided in about my struggles with self-worth and chasing my dreams, not my father. It was my Grampa who became my role model and the one I emulated.

I wanted to be at least half of what my Grampa was because I knew I could never be him, but if I was half, I knew I would have been a success as a human. I don’t want to be like my father. I don’t want to be like that first stepfather. They taught me what not to do.

I was devastated when my Grampa died 7 years ago this month. I reflected and decided that he had given me all of the lessons he could and that it was up to me to put them into action. Some days I feel like I get close. Other days, I feel like I am failing him in every way possible. But I woke up the next day knowing that anything is possible because he told me so.

I still have a handwritten note he gave me way back in 2015. It says, ‘it’s never too late to be what you might have been.’ Yes, the quote is from novelist George Eliot (real name Mary Ann Evans), but my Grampa wrote it for me when I was unsure of who I was supposed to be and where I was supposed to be going. So I will always associate it with him.

When I say that I appreciate my Grampa is goes much deeper than words or how he lived his life. He was there, setting the example for me throughout my life. I just was not ready to see it until I got older. Perhaps if I hadn’t had such terrible male role models in my father and first stepfather, I wouldn’t have found my Grampa to be the guiding light. I am glad I don’t have to wonder about that.

His teachings were never overt. He never said ‘here is how you act as a man.’ No, he simply lived by example. I saw his work ethic. He worked until he was 90. I saw his stability and love as a partner because I was witness to his marriage to my Nina lasting over 70 years. I saw his teachings as a parent through my mother, aunts, and uncles. I saw his importance to his friends and community. I heard the kind words people said to him, about him, when he was there, and when he wasn’t.

I don’t know who I would be without my Grampa. Would Serpa have been enough to break me out of that cage I was put in by those other two ‘men’? I don’t know. Maybe I would have been fine. Maybe I would have been so beaten down that I succumbed to alcohol, depression, or any other issue I have dealt with. You know, the issues that I’m sure that first stepfather would have said were ‘petty?’

I am still here, though. Closing in on 50 and trying to figure out my place in this world, but still here. When I feel like the answers are getting away from me, I look at that note my Grampa wrote me. I also just sit back and think of him, his life, his actions, and know that his DNA is in me.

Seven years have passed since my Grampa taught his final lesson to me. I will always keep his memory alive as often as I can. He deserves to be remembered, unlike other ‘men’ whom I will not shed a single tear for when they go. I put all of my energy into thanking my Grampa and Serpa, and while I’m at it, Uncle Eric, Uncle Bob, Uncle Steve, Uncle John, and Maui. Any successes I have in life as a man are reflections on you and your teachings.

I appreciate you, Grampa, and I appreciate all of those second fathers I just mentioned. You all filled the hole left by those other ‘men’ who let me down in every possible way. Thank you.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #119: Exploding Brace, Temu Google Maps, Boardwalk Memorial, etc.

1. Sometimes I can anticipate something happening before it does. Despite knowing the possibilities, I still do it. No, this isn’t very serious. I bought a gel knee wrap from Job Lot that can be heated or frozen to help with knee pain. I thought it was a great idea, and it was only $5. I used it the same night. I only microwaved it for 45 seconds. It came out warm but not hot. I wrapped it around my left knee and sat to watch some TV. The gel didn’t really stay warm, so I decided to give it a refresh. In my mind, I was laughing, thinking that the gel might explode. Obviously, I didn’t think it would really happen. So I put the wrap back in the microwave. This time I set it for a minute to try to get the gel properly hot. I walked away and heard a pop. Yup, the gel exploded in the microwave with 2 seconds left on the timer. There were hundreds of little blue gel beads strewn all over the microwave. I had to grab the turntable and scoop the beads into a Ziploc bag. They were hot and kind of slimy, so I had to go scrub the turntable and wash my hands. It was a few minutes of me finding rogue beads on the floor. Needless to say, that gel wrap was returned with the receipt. I also bought a knee compression sleeve, but I don’t think that it will explode if I wear it.


2. Being someone who once prided himself on being a borderline elite runner for a little while less than a decade ago, the fact that someone just finished a full marathon (26.2 miles) in under two hours is mind-boggling. Kenyan Sabastian Sawe finished the London Marathon in a staggering 1 hour 59 minutes and 30 seconds. It broke the men’s world record by 65 seconds. To put it into perspective, here are some stats. Sawe ran the equivalent of a half-marathon (13.1 miles) in an hour. At my absolute physical peak as a runner, I could finish a half-marathon in 94 minutes. That’s a 7-minute 10-second pace. Sawe’s pace for a full 26.2 miles was an other-worldly 4 minutes 34 seconds per mile. Again, at my peak, I could pull off a 5-minute 30-second mile. One mile. Then I’d either start wearing down or just be totally gassed and fall over. He was nearly a minute per mile faster than my best for a full marathon. Incredible. Lost in that accomplishment is the fact that the second-place finisher, Yomif Kejelcha of Ethiopia, also finished in under two hours. He clocked in at 1 hour, 59 minutes, and 41 seconds. Oh, and it was his first-ever marathon.


3. I was eagerly anticipating Stranger Things: Tales From ‘85 when it dropped on Netflix last week. It’s an animated spin-off that takes place between seasons 2 and 3 of the show in canon. I am already enjoying it because the voice actors all sound almost identical to the original characters. It is 10 episodes, each clocking in around 30 minutes. That means most of you could probably binge the season in an afternoon. Me, I am taking my time. I have a tendency to only watch one episode of any show I am watching per night. I don’t want to give away any spoilers, but I think this is a great little side quest for anyone who enjoys Stranger Things. Also, based on the timeline of these 10 episodes, I could easily see there being a second season if the Duffer Brothers chose to do so. I will always be longing for a spin-off in the future where Mike travels and finds Eleven by the waterfalls, but this is also good. Plus, it is low-risk since I know none of the characters are going to die, since they all obviously make it to season 3. All in all, a fun, easy, engaging watch. UPDATE: Season 2 of Tales From ‘85 has been announced for this fall.

4. It’s confusing the way that things are monetized online. My blog, the same one this post is a part of, routinely gets 100,000 or more views per month. In full transparency, I believe that the vast majority are bots that have infiltrated my blog since I don’t do any of the CAPTCHA junk. Still, it’s a lot of views regardless. I researched that if you use Google Adsense, as I do, a blog that has 100,000 views in a month should earn at least $500 or more in that same month. As of this writing, my blog has 140,000 views in April. How much have I earned? 40 cents. I have no clue what the deal is. If bots aren’t counted toward monetization, then why are they counted toward my overall view count? Fix it one way or the other. I’m fine with 40 cents if that accurately reflects the number of views on my blog. I see the total, though, and unless there’s some glitch on Google’s end, I feel like I should be earning way way more than I am. I sent them feedback about it. We’ll see if anything changes.


5. I have mentioned before that I have a 12, now 13, year old client I train. I have to basically do the same workout in order to get him to stay engaged. In the end, I’ll typically burn anywhere from 250-350 calories in 30 minutes as I kill myself to make sure he exercises. We chat as we throw medicine balls, and one thing I have learned is that he is very big on computer repairs. He finds and repurposes computers from the dump or ones that are given to him by others. I believe he has something like 6-8 working computers and nearly a dozen that don’t currently work. I made the mistake of mentioning that I had a pair of old laptops at home. He asked for both, and I compromised with one. I didn’t mind giving it to him since it’s been collecting dust in the closet for probably 5 years. My only mistake was giving it to him before the training session started. It was impossible to get him focused as he tried starting the laptop and checking to see what its specs were. He was happy with it and said thank you, but our workout was not great since he was pretty distracted the entire time. Oh, and he did ask again about the other old laptop, but I said I was holding onto it.


6. The brace and wrap for my knee that I mentioned earlier were bought because I’ve had an issue with my left knee that’s gotten a little worse lately. The area where the patellar tendon attaches to the lower leg has been inflamed and is pretty annoying when my knee is fully flexed. The issue is stability in the lower leg. Another product I bought to try to help with that is a strap that is attached right below the knee at the top of the calf. When the strap is on, it almost immediately stabilizes my left ankle. I went for a long walk after putting it on and was amazed by how stable it felt and how confident I felt in it. Maybe it was just a mental thing, and the effects weren’t that great, but who knows? I even tried to do a little running. It was a positive first try. Only time will tell if this strap can put an end to the knee issue, or at least lessen it. It’s just another thing I need to take, or wear, to keep my body running as best it can. Soon, it’ll be a 12-step process just to step out of bed in the morning.


7. I have mentioned before that my new favorite thing is to shoot videos while driving. I extend my selfie stick up through my moon roof and hold it while I steer with the other hand. I only do it on less crowded roads and also only drive slowly. I know it sounds like I’m defending something dangerous. Typically, I film while driving to beaches since people like those videos. One thing I’ve started noticing is the stares I get from people, especially those walking, as I drive by. In fact, a little girl was walking with her dad on one day, and since I was driving slowly, I could see her point and ask What is that?’ It made me wonder what people think is going on with my car when I go by. Do people think I am a Temu version of the Google Maps car? Like, they didn’t want to send the official vehicle to Cape Cod, so they stuck a camera on an old Toyota and asked me to just drive around? As stupid as that sounds, I could see someone thinking that’s what it was. I should get a Google Maps wrap for my car. Then maybe I’d be allowed to drive into private places like Great Island and Oyster Harbors. This is an example of my driving videos.




8. After what seems like a few years of planning, the new Parker’s River Landing recreation area opened this week in West Yarmouth. It is where there was a drive-in when I was growing up in the 1980s. Amazing that I am of that age where I can tell younger people, ‘back in my day this used to be (whatever)…’ The opening day was cloudy and cool, but even with less-than-stellar weather, the place looks great. There is a huge green field for play and probably for festivals, concerts, and things like that in the summer. There is a playground, a kayak launch ramp, and the biggest attraction, which is an elevated boardwalk that extends over the marsh. There are beautiful views of Seagull Beach to the north and Parker’s River to the east. I have a feeling that I will be visiting there a lot in the future.



9. The real main reason I went to Parker’s River Landing had to do with that boardwalk I mentioned. Located out on the boardwalk, there are probably at least a few dozen engraved planks that people bought. One of those planks is in honor of my Uncle Eric. He passed away a little over 3 years ago from pancreatic cancer. My aunt and cousin got the plank with his name on it. I waited until there wasn’t anyone else out on the boardwalk so that I could take my time and search for it. I was torn. On one hand, it is a beautiful spot, and it will be nice to use that area as a place to reconnect with him every now and then in a roundabout way. On the other hand, I’d much rather be chatting and laughing with him at a cookout than sitting next to a plank with his name on it. I made the best of it. I sat and played a song that always reminds me of him for a bit. Other people eventually came out, so I had to cut it a little short. There will be another time.



10. I have been going to my local Planet Fitness gym for many years. In fact, when I first started there, it was called World Gym. Last year, they did a major upgrade on all of the equipment. Before that, you’d have a handful of machines out of order at any time. They added common equipment that any reputable gym has, like kettlebells, bands, BOSU balls, medicine balls, and foam rollers. Yes, for years, they had none of that stuff. I still wish they had more specialized equipment to make my workout more complete. That being said, I was shaking to my core with excitement over the latest addition to Planet Fitness. No, it wasn’t battle ropes, or barbells for deadlifts, or red light therapy. No, it was even better. Little digital advertisements over the faucet at every sink in the bathroom. They are called ‘sinkside billboards.’ Are you kidding me? No money for equipment upgrades, but they waste it on little TV screens that make it so I can’t see where the faucet is at the sink. I guarantee you if one of those stupid things shorted out, they’d have maintenance in there in five seconds. If a machine breaks down, it’s down for weeks. Absolutely one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen.


11. In honor of the opening of the Parker’s River Landing on the former grounds of the Yarmouth Drive-In, I took it upon myself to go for another trip down memory lane. This involved another former drive-in site. The Dennis Drive-In was open from 1949 to roughly 1986 on Hokum Rock Road. Since closing, it has been allowed to become overgrown. Despite forty years, you can still see the asphalt of the parking lot. You can also see the roads where the cars would drive and park with their front end elevated slightly on a hill for the best view of the screen. The peak of treasure hunting comes from looking for the old speaker poles that have been left strewn about the grounds. When I was there, I counted four that I found, but I am sure that in an area that used to be able to fit 600 cars, there are probably more. It’s only when you see one of these poles that you realize what used to be there. Otherwise, it just looks like an abandoned lot where some jerks dump trash. Who knows, maybe someday they will turn that property into something useful. Right now it’s just a scavenger hunt.




12. The first week of May meant it was finally time to get rid of my Halloween pumpkin. You heard right. I still had the mini pumpkin I bought in early October. It was honestly still in good condition, which is why I think I forgot to get rid of it. I can’t just throw it in the trash. Where’s the fun in that? I made a whole short film about me seeking revenge on the pumpkin because it wouldn’t help me shovel snow in the winter. This all culminated in my driving to Scargo Tower in Dennis, climbing to the top of the 30+-foot tower, and heaving the pumpkin over the side. Amazingly, it didn’t explode when it hit the parking lot. I had to come back down and slam dunk it onto the pavement for the full effect. Then it was tossed into the nearby woods to be food for animals. All of this was filmed for some laughs.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #103: Snow Picnic, Exciting Laundromat, Job Applicant, etc.

1. We’ve had a snowier winter this year than in the last few so far. Granted, we haven’t had any huge storms, just a bunch of smaller ones. Going back to work after the holiday break, I had thought that the parking lot would have been plowed, boy was I wrong. According to the owners of our building, they had plow guys scheduled, but they never showed. Nice. So the employee and customer lots were a mess. It was fine for us in the back, but not for the customer lot. We have lots of people who come in who are in their 70s and 80s. Many of them are also getting their backs and hips adjusted, so the last thing they need is to be walking to or from their cars across a skating rink. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. The irony is that once the plow people finally showed the temperatures had risen and everything was melting, so they weren’t even needed.


2. Even though the warmer temperatures helped with the treacherous conditions in the customer parking lot, it didn’t make the employee one much better. Because it wasn’t plowed, the snow turned to a slushy mess. I was lucky enough to have to take out our trash. Not only was there a few inches of slush around the dumpster, which instantly soaked my shoes, but it was only the beginning. Apparently, the snow had been heavy and wet enough that it knocked a tree down onto the back of the dumpster. This meant that I could actually get the top opened, but only so far, since a damn tree was lying on the back. I had to slosh my way to the dumpster, put the gross trash can on my shoulder, pray nothing spilled out onto me, and then, with my other arm, lift the top about two feet and pour the garbage in. There were a few F bombs on my way back inside for sure.


3. It’s not every day that you get a copy of the film that was your first acting role. I ordered a Blu-Ray DVD copy of Cape Cod Cthulhu, my first acting role, this week. In high school back in the 90s, I spent all of my savings on a camcorder in the hopes of becoming an actor or director. Maybe I’ll never be a breakout Hollywood star, but I got to act in a film that got distributed & will soon be available to stream. Later this year, I will try my hand at producing a feature-length film. It shows you can’t ever stop chasing dreams; they don’t have expiration dates. You can order a copy of the film here: Cape Cod Cthulhu


4. In 2018, I had to take a detour from personal training and head back into cooking. It was necessary due to the financial situation. I worked at a retirement home called Mayflower Place. There, I met many people who made my return to cooking not only bearable but fun. One such person was named Alan. He was around my age, so we chatted about sports, music, and trash-talked about a few people we didn’t enjoy working with. He battled his demons in the form of alcohol. At one point, he was so bad that his skin was yellowing from advanced liver damage. He got clean and made a full recovery. It was an inspiring journey. Alan passed away suddenly and way too young this week. I have no idea what the cause was, and it really doesn’t matter at this point. He left behind a son still in high school. It definitely reminds you that your number can be called at any time. There is a GoFundMe set up to help his family with expenses. I am linking to it here if you wish to donate or share. RIP Alan. 




5. The washing machine is out of commission where I live currently, so I had to take a trip out to the laundromat. Major first-world problems that I had to driving to wash my clothes. It gave me the opportunity for one of my favorite spectator sports, people watching. It was a slow time at the laundromat, so there were slim pickings for people. There was nobody weird, which was sad. The highlight for me was a little girl who had to be 4 years old. She was so happy to be there that she was singing and squeaking in these high tones. It wasn’t an isolated incident either. I was in there probably a total of 20 minutes, and she squeaked and squealed and sang the entire time. It was pretty funny and very cute. Considering she was in a laundromat, I wonder how excited she gets going to McDonald’s or a toy store, or something like that?


6. I finished the first season of The Paper, the spin-off of The Office, and I enjoyed it. I say ‘first season’ because the show was renewed before even debuting in September 2025, and there should be new episodes probably by the end of this year. If you watch the show, try not to compare it to The Office. It’s not that, and it’s such tough expectations to live up to. I found it to be a fun watch, with some likable characters. It’s about the documentary crew from The Office working on their next project, which is a struggling Ohio newspaper. There are some connections to The Office, but it mostly stands on its own. I’m trying not to give spoilers if you want to binge all 10 episodes on your own. It’s weird how in this streaming world, a ‘season’ of television is usually 10 episodes or fewer. My hope is that The Paper gets several seasons to really flesh out characters and stories. I mean, The Office had 201 episodes, hopefully The Paper can get close to half of that.

7. At my job, we are passively looking for a new person to come aboard. They would be a part-time trainer and chiropractic assistant. This would allow us to open up some more time in the schedule for patients and clients. I say passively because there’s no push for it currently, but if someone comes along, we definitely give them a look. Several months ago, a stereotypical trainer applied. He was incredibly rude and condescending not only to our office manager but to my boss as well, referring to him by his name and not ‘doctor.’ I mean, if you’re applying for a job and you call the boss Joe and not Dr. Joe when he’s a doctor, it’s a sign that you’re a jackass and we don’t want you working with us. Flash forward to this week, and we get an application. This guy is looking for some part-time PT work and even name-drops me, saying I went to his gym. I had no idea who he was. Our office manager started feeling like it was deja vu, so she searched his email address in our archives. Sure enough, it was the same guy from before. He basically acted as though he had never applied before. Sorry pal, we’re way smarter than you think. I had to laugh at his nerve and also his complete stupidity. Hard pass.


8. Like many people, I have begun the new year with an eye on getting in better physical shape. It is a lot of eating better, tracking calories, and obviously hitting the gym. It is a struggle between a slow and steady pace and trying to reach the goal as fast as possible. I am straddling that line. I figure the more I do at the gym, the more it loosens the reins as far as the amount of calories I can have. I use a Fitbit to track my activity. I’m actually wearing it as I type this, not burning many calories now, though. Anyway, it will adjust my settings according to how hard I am training. I realized this week that I must be working hard. That is because my Fitbit said that I had exercised 6 out of the last 5 days. Yes, that’s not a typo. I guess I have been going so hard since 2026 began that my workload was the equivalent of working out an extra day’s worth. Needless to say, to avoid falling off hard, I’ve had to scale down my training. I’d rather need an extra month to hit my goal weight than fall off totally and have to start over, or worse, start from a worse position somewhere later this year.


9. This year has begun with me working on the first draft of the script I am writing for my hopeful first feature-length film project set to happen later this summer. As of this writing, I am on Page 32 of what I think will be 70. It’s a step out of my comfort zone, but I feel like I am improving with each day I work on it. This script work is having an unintended benefit. If I can get good at drafting scripts, who's to say I can’t start creating them for other projects? One such idea is a potential television show based on my experiences working in the restaurant business. It would be set in the 1990s and would be a wacky comedy with heart. Sort of like The Office, where you’d have crazy things happen, but it’s also character and relationship-driven. In maybe half an hour, I came up with more than 60 potential story beats for the show. Some of them could be expanded upon, some are crazy enough as is. I feel like these stories, the characters and relationships, along with the nostalgic setting of the 90s, would make it a fun show to watch. I am messing around with the idea now, but I am a little more serious about seeing if I could do this. Of course, the first question is: How do you pitch a television show pilot? One step at a time.

The setting of a future TV show?

10. I have worked as a personal trainer in my daily life for 10 years. I have several other certifications to my credit and have trained hundreds of people toward living better lives. Despite thinking I might have some knowledge in the area of fitness, I have to laugh at the fact that those closest to me either never ask me for health and fitness advice, or they do, but don’t actually do anything I recommend. I don’t make these huge sweeping life-changing suggestions. I advise on small, incremental changes that are sustainable. Still, no follow-through from family and friends. I wonder if it is like this for people in other fields. Do doctors, lawyers, teachers, and others have their closest friends and family ask them advice and then just not follow it? I feel that with me, it’s like if I can’t guarantee the maximum impact for the least amount of effort, nobody is interested. Taking creatine is great. Oh wait, what? I have to actually exercise with it to get the most benefits? It’s like taking a diet pill and gorging on fast food. You only get out what you put in.

Stranger Things Have Happened: A GenX Fairytale

The final episode of Stranger Things only aired a few days ago when I am writing this. I can say I have never had a television show, and more specifically, one episode of a television show, affect me so deeply.

I have realized that, as much as it is my connection to the show, I mean, we watched most of the main cast go from children to adults, it’s also how the show put a mirror up to me and to my generation.

I am a proud GenXer. Born in 1977. Stranger Things was set in the mid-1980s. I lived it, so seeing so many products, hearing so many songs, and feeling the vibe of my childhood was comfort food for the soul I didn’t realize I needed so.

The problem with any television show is that it inevitably comes to an end. With the final episode came emotions that I don’t think I had felt in forever. I am not alone. On social media, I have come across literally hundreds of posts from people my age feeling the same way.

The youngest of GenX will be turning 45 this year. We were the last truly wild and free generation. The way the kids are portrayed on Stranger Things is reality. My friends and I would be all over the place on our bikes. We’d get into adventures and maybe a little trouble, but never anything too overly dangerous. Many younger people wonder how we dealt with the lack of convenience and technology. I feel bad for them as they will never know that type of freedom.

We were the generation that rolled with the punches. We became adults early and have felt like we’ve been so removed from our childhood innocence for so long. I began working at age 12. That means, as of writing this, I have held a job for 36 years. Still, I always had time for my friends and our growing up together.

GenX were the people who said ‘whatever.’ Like it was a badge of honor to never feel or care. Hell, they even created OK Soda in the early 1990s to try to appeal to our sense of nonconformity. There was one problem, though. We only kept our love and emotions below the surface. It feels to me like Stranger Things opened a door we had thought was long-since closed.

I will say now that I am going to share some spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the final episode, just beware.

My high school

2026 marks the 30th anniversary of my high school graduation. I think my emotions were ready to explode; they just needed something to light the fuse.

Stranger Things fittingly ends with the main cast graduating high school in 1989. The way that Mike, Lucas, Will, Dustin, and Max all act and feel as their time draws near, I felt it because I had been there.

It’s a weird mix of peaceful emptiness and quiet desperation. When the final weeks were ticking down to graduation, it didn’t feel like anything was changing. We still had class, we still had homework. The difference was that many of my peers had college acceptance letters rolling in.

The peaceful emptiness comes from the sad reality that you cannot change what was coming. I couldn’t stop us from graduating. I couldn’t stop my friends from slowly being pulled from my orbit and into a new one. It was resignation.

The quiet desperation came after graduation. We didn’t all just vanish the day after we threw our caps into the air. There was a final summer. This is where I scratched and clawed, trying to get those last memories stuck under my fingernails. I still remember the days when my two best friends left. Barry left first, John left second. I can see those final moments of that chapter of our lives. I enjoyed them, yes, but I also desperately tried to memorize the last jokes, the last places we went. I knew it would never be the same again, and it wasn’t.

When the Stranger Things kids skip a party they are invited to so they can play Dungeons & Dragons, I felt that. I didn’t want new adventures with different people. I wanted final adventures with my ride or die brothers. Those tears they shed as they returned their D&D binders to the shelf were real, as that scene was the last ever shot for the show.

It was a symbolic leaving childhood behind and entering the unknown door of adulthood.

A confession. I didn’t apply to colleges in my senior year. I planned on skipping a semester and then going to the local community college. For someone who took his SATs when he was 13, it was a major step back. Why did I do it?

First, I had been going so hard trying to be the best student I could since I could remember. School got harder in my junior and senior years as I wanted less to do with difficult subjects like trigonometry, calculus, and chemistry. I wanted to craft funny (in my opinion) videos with my camcorder and my friends. That was my ultimate dream.

Second, I had a girlfriend who was still going to be in school. In my mind, I needed to stay behind since our relationship was obviously going to last forever. It didn’t. It lasted 2 ½ years. At the time, though, as I was losing my closest friends, I still had her. I hung on in quiet desperation to what was familiar.

Nobody told me that if you’re going hard for years and you take your foot off the gas, it can be tough, damn near impossible to get that momentum back. Once I went to college in the spring of 1997, it was like pulling teeth to get a 2-year degree. I resented my choice, I missed my friends, I felt like a child still, despite being told I was entering the real world.

As the years go by, you get bogged down with daily life. Job, bills, responsibilities, maybe a family, they all become your focus. As I draw closer to 50, there are days when 18 feels like yesterday. There are days when I think I turned 40 a thousand years ago. Time gets warped. I am sure that I am not the only one of my generation who feels like we packed away our childhoods like a bunch of torn garbage bags thrown into a garage. We never really went through everything to celebrate or grieve like we should have. But how could we have known that was necessary?




The finale of Stranger Things flung the garage door open and launched our bags of emotions out onto the lawn for us to go through, whether ready or not. I was definitely not.

That moment when the first chord of Prince’s legendary Purple Rain hit, as Mike and Eleven stood together, I shattered. I knew what was coming. There was no happy ending for them. Yes, I know, it’s a fictional show, but it hit me because I related to Mike the most.

In the final scene, he is regaling his friends with the stories of their futures, but in the guise of their D&D characters. Mike was the storyteller. I was the storyteller of my group of friends. I spent my savings on a camcorder so I could create stories with my friends.

As he shared their stories, I saw bits of my high school friends in them. Then it hit me, hard, I am Mike. The other characters all get happy endings. Maybe Mike does, but it’s not in the obvious way. He loses his love and falls into the hole of grief. Later, he uses that grief and the love he lost to formulate stories of his friends' adventures.

Mike is the character I related to most.

I am writing this blog as we speak because of my own lost love. Back in June 2025, I wrote a very detailed post about this lost love named Wendy. I called it peaceful emptiness, much like I described my feelings after Stranger Things ended, and after graduating high school. I’ll link to that post at the bottom, but of course will give you the Cliffs Notes.

I met a girl at my lowest. I was battling severe depression, and she dragged me out of it by being who she was. She rebuilt me and made me feel like a full human years after my graduation. Then, almost as suddenly as she arrived, she was gone. The time, and our lives, just didn’t match up. She was a supernova of love that made me feel a way nobody else has before or since. I went hard into my writing career as a way to cope with losing her. In a way, I continue on that path because it makes me feel connected to her still.

In Stranger Things, we see that very likely Eleven did survive but had to fake her death and travel far away without anybody knowing. For close to 20 years, I was where Mike ended the show. I had no idea where Wendy was. She was basically off the grid. All I had were memories. Then the timing lined up, and I found her last June.

It was that peaceful emptiness because I found her and got that closure, but in doing so, I saw that she was where she needed to be. She was living an important and fulfilling life. There was no chance of my swooping in as a white knight. There was also no point in reaching out, as there was no good that could come of it. So I got my closure and just had to be happy with that.

Wondering how high school ended 30 years ago.

Stranger Things ending held a mirror up to me, and probably to many other GenXers. It’s forced us to reconcile with the fact that our childhoods were so long ago and that maybe adulthood hasn’t been anything close to what we felt we were going to get. Ironically, the finale threw me harder into a midlife crisis than anything in my own life has.

I look in the mirror at my gray hair winning the war on my head, and I think to myself, Is it too late? I never found a love to replace Wendy. I never found a job that gave me the satisfaction that creating my skits in high school did. I see so many friends who are married, with kids, and houses, and living lives they deserve. What do I deserve?

Do I deserve to be the de facto storyteller of my friends? Do I deserve to be Mike, sitting and writing said stories and dreaming of the love he had but knowing he likely will never see her again?

Even close to 50, I feel like I’m walking the halls at Dennis-Yarmouth High School, looking at the different students and wishing I were them, or wishing I were with them. I am deep in that pit of emotion. It's both a good and a bad thing.

I wanted so badly for all of the characters on Stranger Things to get their happy endings. The fact that it was Mike, the one I connected with most, who didn’t, hit me hard. The show might be officially over, but that doesn’t mean the story is. Remember that years after Rick was presumed dead on The Walking Dead, he was reunited with Michonne, Judith, and RJ. Maybe years down the road, it happens for Mike and Eleven.

It comes back to my life. Certain chapters have ended, but books can be reopened. I firmly believe that I am where I am in my life for a reason. Unmarried, no children, the freedom that if I wanted to, I could go virtually anywhere. There has to be a reason for that, right? I go into each day thinking that it could be the day that the next amazing adventure in my life begins.



Circling back to where we started. Stranger Things made me, and a lot of my generation, feel things we hadn’t in a long time. It perfectly encapsulated our 1980s childhoods so much so that when the show ended, it felt like our childhoods did again. It shows the power of a well-crafted television show. It also shows that the peaceful emptiness and quiet desperation we have felt is the telltale sign that what we had was something unique and beautiful.

To my fellow GenXers, we had a good thing. I’m glad we got to experience it. Maybe we can never go back to our childhoods, but there are always photos, videos, and, of course, a Stranger Things rewatch.

Peaceful Emptiness: Finding Closure After 20 Years

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #101: Unexpected Guest, Christmas Fun, 30 Year Search, etc.

1. This was a short work week with the Christmas holiday happening Thursday. I ended up working two days and then getting to enjoy 12 straight days off. That doesn’t mean that there was a lack of interesting stories. The main one came in the form of an unexpected guest in the gym. In the early afternoon, my boss happened to lay eyes on something in the corner of the gym near the exit to the hallway. It was a dead mouse. No idea where it came from or how it got into our gym, but there it was. I was tasked with removing it, so I grabbed a pair of gloves and picked it up by the tail. I apologized to it as I tossed it out the back door into some nearby woods. The interesting part of this story is that where the mouse was found was next to an area I had planned to use with a client that morning. She ended up having to cancel her appointment. If she had been there, she’d have been doing planks on a mat right there, and no doubt would have seen the mouse and rightfully flipped out. So I guess it was a good thing that her schedule changed. Fun fact: In the last year or so, we have had a mouse, a frog, and a squirrel in our gym.

An average day at the zoo, I mean, the gym.

2. A sad realization, or an aha moment? I was at the supermarket one evening this week and was craving pizza. I was trying to get through Christmas before trying (again) to get my health on track. Anyway, I saw an ex of mine there. I didn’t speak to her, just saw her. She didn’t see me. The moment I am talking about comes from the fact that when I knew her as a friend and girlfriend, she was my fitness muse. She made me want to be the best version of myself physically, and I was. I felt that old mindset bubbling up inside of me, but the current version of me stamped it down. Maybe that’s why I didn’t go talk to her? I didn’t want to have that healthy voice speaking to me again. It’s a sad realization that what used to be second nature for me, my health and fitness, seem like foreign concepts. I am planning on using my extended break from work to try to get this under control, but it failed on this night. I still went and got pizza.


3. The town where I live doesn’t allow the sale of individual plastic water bottles in grocery stores. They’re allowed in most towns on Cape Cod, though. One of the items on my list to bring for Christmas was a case of water. Because I waited until the last minute, and because it was snowing more than expected on Christmas Eve, I chose to stick close to home to get the water. Even though I couldn’t get a case of water in plastic bottles, I did find several options for canned water. I don’t know why this amused me so much. Cracking open a nice can of water just made me laugh, so of course I got that. It beats water in boxes. I mean, what is that foolishness anyway? You might as well sell water in bags.


4. Every year since 2009, I have paid a visit to a local beach that my Nana spent lots of time at on Christmas Eve. I did it that first year because she was near the end of her life and couldn’t go and enjoy it. She passed a few days after Christmas in 2009. I make it a point to be there around sunset. Whether it’s sunny, cloudy, rainy, snowy, cold, or less cold, I am there. It allows me to purposefully spend a few moments with my Nana front and center in my thoughts. I truly do feel her spirit there. As the years have passed, I have lost several more loved ones. I now use this Christmas Eve tradition to remember them as well. It is somber and bittersweet but also invigorating. I feel all of them in my heart at that time, and it makes me feel lucky I had people that important who still bring those emotions long after they’re gone. But also, it makes me appreciate those who are still here who give me those same emotions. It was cold, windy, and snowy this year, but I was still there and still walked out into the elements to get a photo.

The view at my Nana's beach on Christmas Eve.

5. Christmas was filled with family, food, and fun. The times of family gatherings can be fewer, and further between the older I get, so I always look forward to them. It’s funny how time goes. I can remember my nieces and nephews from the day they were born. Yet here some of them are as teens and young adults, and I can talk and laugh with them in different ways. Sitting and eating my mom’s amazing chicken stir fry while talking about 90s music was a blast. We all were in a food coma by 4:30, but that didn’t stop us from grabbing copious amounts of to-go containers' worth of leftovers. It was a great day overall.


6. One funny thing this Christmas was my surprise that nobody knew this classic Honeycomb cereal commercial from the mid-1980s. We were watching The Princess Bride, and I was mentioning how, at this point, Andre the Giant was probably at his most famous. He was Fezzik in the movie, and around the same time, he was in a Honeycomb commercial. I was shocked, especially that my sister Kate, who has a better memory than me, didn’t remember the commercial from when we were kids. I sang the jingle first, which was embarrassing enough. Honeycomb’s big! Yeah, yeah, yeah! It’s not small! No, no, no! Then I showed everyone the commercial, which they liked but still didn’t remember. I’ll share it here for any fellow GenXers, but maybe my memory is better than I thought.




7. It’s interesting how the week between Christmas and New Year’s is such a dead zone. It’s like I know there are seven days in there, but all I want to do is hurry through them, get past New Year’s, and then speed run my way to spring. I have said numerous times that the period from Labor Day through the end of the year is my favorite time. That being said, my least favorite time is from January 2nd through the first of spring. It’s one long Seasonal Affective Disorder session. It’s made all the more glaring because at my day job, we have the week between Christmas and New Year’s off. This year, we also have an extra week off in January, oh, and there will likely be another week-plus break in March because my boss can afford to shut down for long stretches. He can, the other employees can’t, but that’s why I keep working hard on my content, so I hopefully don’t have to worry about it too much longer.


8. I finished up the continuing education credits to renew my personal trainer certification. I took a course called Business Progressions Level 1. The thing about this course is that the vast majority of it was stuff I already knew. It was a lot about sales and marketing, including social media stuff. That’s literally what I do in my spare time: market and sell my work. So, rather than spend something like 12 hours watching webinars about stuff I already knew, I skipped around, sought out the answers I needed for each quiz, and got my 10 CECs in less than half the time. But shh, don’t tell anyone, I’m sure they’d have preferred that I played by the rules and watched it all.


9. When I was in high school, my sister Kate became friends with a foreign exchange student from Ukraine named Anna. She was this super cute blonde who enjoyed wearing denim overalls. I had such a big crush on her, but I was terrified to say anything. I was even more scared to tell my sister to see if maybe she could put in a good word. Don’t get me wrong, anytime I interacted with Anna, it was good. She was sweet and seemed to find me funny, which was a plus. The universe works in mysterious ways. The time seemed right to grow some guts and make a move. There was going to be a party coming up. She would be there, and I would go. Everything seemed to be falling into place. Then, out of nowhere, Anna was gone. It was like she vanished, but in reality, she had gone back to Ukraine. Now the stories I have heard can’t be verified. I had heard that something had happened to her father, or some member of her family back home, and she was forced to go back and essentially go into hiding. For me, what’s worse is that I learned after the fact that she did indeed like me. She thought I looked like one of the members of the group All-For-One. They did ‘I Swear.’ So not only did I not get the chance to say anything to Anna before she left, but she has been MIA since then. That was 1995. Every now and then, I try to search for her, but I get stuck. I am trying again now since it’s been 30 years. I found a mention of her in a newsletter about exchange students in the state of Massachusetts. The company, MATSOL, still exists. So I went to their website and emailed them to see if there might be any avenues I could go down to try to find Anna. It is highly likely to be a dead end, but you never know. I mean, I failed at finding my great-grandfather’s biological family for years, and then suddenly, new information was available, and it was a success. We’ll see.


10. Being the end of the year, it’s time for New Year’s Resolutions. In the past, I’ve had grandiose declarations of achievements I wanted to accomplish. There’s nothing wrong with setting the bar high. For 2026, I have a big goal, yet also one that is hard to define. I want to rediscover the best version of myself. What does that mean? I’m not totally sure. In all honesty, I haven’t felt like the best version of myself since probably 2019. Even then, I was battling alcohol problems and mourning the death of my hero, my Grampa. Giving such a broad and undefinable resolution might be seen as a cop out, and you might be right. How will I even know if I am the best version of my current self? Maybe it comes down to a feeling? For the most part, in my life currently, I feel unfulfilled and incomplete. I work nonstop on projects like books and podcasts because, in many ways, I am trying to prove my worth to the world. In reality, I think it will come down to the feeling of being happy and satisfied with where I am and, most of all, who I am. Will I achieve it? Who knows, but I’ll spend 2026 trying to find it.