LFS: The Storyteller

©2008 by LeeZard June 10, 2008: ten years – 3,653 days. Who’da thunk it? Ten years ago on this date I walked – very drunk – into my first for real meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. I took my last drink on that date. Oh, I’d stuck my toe into AA in late 1984 but I wasn’t ready then. I signed up for an outpatient recovery program mainly to get the wife off my back. It didn’t work, neither the recovery nor getting she-who-shall-not-be-mentioned off my back. I knew I had a “problem” with pot but I really loved it. I drank just because; well, maybe just to boost the pot high. I knew deep down I wasn’t really ready to give up either one. When you enter a recovery program, they do an assessment. It is a list of questions and you can either be honest with (yourself and) them or you can just bullshit (yourself and) them. For some reason, I decided to be honest. “Well,” the counselor said as she looked over my questionnaire, “it appears that you are an early-to-mid-stage alcoholic.” One of the sy...

©2008 by LeeZard LeeZard has a new hero. No, make that SHEro but I cannot reveal her name. I don’t want the troubles I am about to relate to revisit her. Let’s just call her Sarge. Sarge is a cop. In fact, she is a Sergeant and that is the nub of the story. Unfortunately (in her agency), the fact that Sarge is both female and African-American led to the tale I am about to share. Sarge came to her rank the hard way, through a forest of sexism and racism that would’ve thwarted a lesser man or woman. She achieved the rank despite the odds and she took the very high road to get there. As I was having lunch with Sarge the other day and listening to her story, I said, “You know, what you are telling me reminds me of what Jackie Robinson went through when he first came up to the Brooklyn Dodgers. Except, THAT was in 1947.” “I know,” she sighed, “some things never change.” -------------- When Sarge and I last hung out, she was a basic patrol officer. LeeZard was posing as a reporter at the ti...

©2008 by LeeZard The Seattle Times ran an article last week (http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2004402316_uwsong09m.html), reporting that the University of Washington is looking for a new Alma mater. It seems nobody likes the existing one - written about 100 years ago - in fact, hardly anybody knows the lyrics. The school will choose three finalists and turn them over to Bill Conti who, amongst other accomplishments, wrote the music for the original "Rocky." LeeZard figures what the hell; might as well take a stab at it. Please let me know what you think. There's a place in our hearts, And a time we’ll always hold, A time and place forever, Under the Purple and Gold. On her campus green, Through seasons warm and cold, ‘Neath that flag of glory, Under the Purple and Gold. (CHORUS) In the shadow of the Cascade Mountains, With nature’s beauty so bold, Nestles our alma mater, Where our futures will unfold. We arrive so young, so eager, Seeking knowledge to beho...

©2008 by LeeZard Hillary Dillary Dock, Her campaign is now a crock. Obama leads, While Hillary bleeds, And time runs off the clock. There was an old senator, Who lived in a shoe, With such a big ego, And a dysfunctional crew. They told her this, They told her that, Until her campaign, Was just running flat. Old Bruthah Bubba, Used his mouth as a clubbah, And came across as a whiner. They turned him loose, Like a runaway caboose, And blew it in South Carolina. Four and twenty million, Thrown down the drain, While Hillary fights Obama, To the delight of Mccain. Jack Sprat could eat no fat, Nor could he stomach Obama. Hillary left him cold, The GOP he couldn’t hold, So he sat out the election, Momma. Hey diddle diddle, Here is the riddle. What are the Democrats doin’? Hillary and Obama, Will fight to the end, And leave the electorate stewin’. Hillary and Bill sat on a wall, Bill and Hillary took a great fall. All the consultants, Consultants times ten, Couldn’t put Billary together again....

©2008 by LeeZard Seattle welcomed the Dalai Lama to town this past week, for something called the “Seeds of Compassion” conference. While I recognize the almost rock-star quality of the world’s most famous Buddhist monk, the conference was a bit too esoteric for LeeZard. Apparently LeeZard missed the compassion canoe; more than 150,000 people attended the series of events, workshops and concerts spread over several days at a variety of venues. Oh well. OOPS! WRONG DOLLY Hey, we can all agree that more compassion would make for a better world but I’m not convinced a five-day conference in Seattle – even with the peaceful aura of the Dalai Lama – is going to make it happen. Hallloooo Beijing? Are y’all listening? Which gets me to the real point of this particular rant. While I sympathize with the fight for religious freedom and tolerance in Tibet, I am troubled by the debate – here we go again - raging over the upcoming Olympic Games in China. Boycott or not? Who do we think would be hur...

©2008 by LeeZard Last Saturday I attended my legislative district caucus as a delegate for Hillary Clinton. My heart wasn’t in it and, you know, it had nothing to do with my alleged advanced age. I can still be passionate about issues and people. I can still light the fire in my belly and join a crusade. Today I just feel let down. When this presidential marathon began, I was excited. I remembered being mesmerized by Barack Obama’s keynote speech at the 2004 Democratic national convention and, while I didn’t know much about him, I was thrilled at the prospect of a truly viable African American presidential candidate. No disrespect to Shirley Chisholm, Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson but, not one of them was ever a front-runner for the nomination. As for Hillary, I always thought she was the real brains of the outfit, even in Bill’s White House (That’s not to say the former president isn’t brilliant in his own right; I just think Hillary’s brilliance outshines his. Debate on that is for a...

©2007 By LeeZard “No, it won’t kill you.” I was sitting in the office of a surgeon I’d only met 30 minutes ago, listening to him recommend – what else – SURGERY. “It won’t kill you,” he continued, “unless it twists around and cuts off the blood flow. Then it’ll kill ya.” I had a double hernia. My regular physician referred me to this particular surgeon because this was his specialty. “He’s the best in the city,” my doc assured me. “It’s not a major procedure anymore,” the surgeon went on. Now, it’s day surgery, just a small cut below your navel, a scope and a micro-tool, that’s it. Three day recovery, max.” So, one week later, lying on a gurney in the hallway outside of Operating Theater A, I was inhaling the ever-present eau de antiseptic and staring blankly at the green painted walls. I found myself reflecting on how I got there. It was like the newsreel of my life rolling in my brain. ----------- Most people travel life’s highway with tools to deal with its hazards a...