LFS: The Storyteller

©2017 by Lee Frederick Somerstein Am I crazy? I’m actually looking forward to April 25th, my prostate cancer surgery. Bring it! I’m in the best place I can be in a shitty situation. As far as we know the cancer is contained within the prostate and an earlier MRI shows nothing in the surrounding lymph nodes. They’ll check that under a microscope after they get that sucker out. But they have to get it out fast before it spreads and 4/25 is the soonest they can do it. I’ve reserved an extra room at the hospital for a prostate going away party. As you can tell, my energy and my attitude remain high and I am astounded by the wave of good vibes flowing in from all of you. My humblest thanks; you have no idea how powerful you are. Now, let’s move to the business at hand. ----- You’ve read in my earlier posts that I am eliminating whatever negativity remains in my life. Except for my closest friends/family, I've never written or spoken about the only major remaining source of ...

©2008 by LeeZard Have you been to a shopping mall lately? I try to avoid it but sometimes it’s unavoidable. I have to tell you; I am absolutely amazed at what I see. I’m talking about pre-pubescent feminine come-hither. I know I'm starting to sound like a curmudgeon but this rant goes back to when I was parenting my kids as teens. It bothered me then and it bothers me now. There are limits, ya know. Now, I’m no prude - far from it - but I am often appalled by the way these young girls – and I mean YOUNG – are dressing. Barely to their teens, they are in tight, belly exposing tank tops. They squeeze into micro-mini skirts or very tight low-riding jeans – riding so low that their thong underwear is exposed when they lean forward to take a bite out of their Big Mac Happy Meals. I have sweatbands that cover more than those thongs do. Then there are all those thumbtacks in their noses, their ears and their bellybuttons. We are talking about our very young daughters dressing li...

I wrote this rant several years ago, when the kids were still living at home. I think it still holds true today. What do you think? ©2007 By LeeZard Okay, I know I am about to come off as a grumpy old man but, here we go. I was driving in the car with Number One Son and shaking my head at what was on the radio. “I just don’t get your music,” I said. “It all sounds the same to me and the lyrics don’t make any sense.” Omigod; I’ve become my father! Believe me; I’ve tried to understand it. I like a lot of new music and I try to stay current. I have an iPod and at least a third of my songs are post-2000. I just don’t get Rap and Hip Hop. Sometimes it downright offends me -- and I am not easily offended. With a few exceptions, most of today’s Rap songs cover the same material. They have the same beat and the lyrics – if you can call them that – talk of mutha bleepin’ this or that, my “ho” left me 'cause I hit her, gangstas, I got my piece and I’m gonna kill someone or let’s go somewher...

©2007 by LeeZard I am a walking, talking miracle. By the end of 1997, I was clinically depressed, stuffing more than 220 pounds onto a frame built for 175, struggling to breathe when I walked up a short flight of stairs and suffering intermittent internal bleeding. At 51, I was virtually unemployable and emotionally alienated from my family and friends. I was a late stage alcoholic. Had I continued down that path I certainly would have died a lonely and ugly death if I didn’t kill myself (and/or someone else) first while driving drunk. I would’ve been in and out of jails, hospitals and perhaps a mental institution or two. Instead, I decided I couldn’t live that way anymore. I also knew I couldn’t stop drinking on my own so I turned to the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. That was the beginning of my miracle. I’ve been sober since June 10, 1998. I weigh 190 pounds, power walk 3-5 miles nearly every day, have a challenging and well-paying job and an overall sense of peace and gratitude....