Back in 1981, I was in a Religious Studies class at UM, taught by my favorite professor, Steve Sapp. We became lifelong friends, and he was a favorite of all of us -- truly challenged us to think and write critically about the biggest issues of our lives. I think I was in class with my friend, now Dr. Barry.
Steve walked in looking solemn, and said "I have some news I must share. I'm dying. I'll tell more about this later, but now I want to finish the discussion about the Ethics essay we left off with..."
Several of the girls in class began to weep. The guys had our mouths agape. He went on for awhile, and finally dropped the other shoe: "I'm not at all sick, and like to think I'm as healthy as all of you, despite my 15 more years. The truth is, though, we are ALL dying -- you all as well as me. We begin to die when we are born. We can never forget that."
And I never did -- clearly he left out context in his shocking words. And so I figured I would repeat the stunt years later, on FaceBook, stating that my wife had left me and I was undergoing cancer surgery the same day. Of course, in answer to some of the shocked comments, I explained: my wife had indeed left, but not our marriage -- she was visiting her BFF Edna for 10 days. And I DID have cancer surgery -- but it was Mohs to removed a squamous cell ca on my nose -- the actual cutting took, no kidding, like 45 seconds -- one pass only was needed. But when the anesthetic wore off -- it WAS rather sore.
The good news is I was able to numb the pain with 3 vodkas last night -- D2 ordered in sushi for us while Jonathan was visiting his uncle and family -- D2 assumed her mother's usual spot on the recliner to watch the Boomers get tipsy -- along with Josh, a youngun.
But I got about 5 texts from FaceBook friends who didn't read past my "shocking" post -- some asking if I was kidding (no -- everything I said was true) or if I needed help during this "Dark period" (no more than the vodkas). I of course told everyone the leaving was temporary, and the cancer surgery the best you could ever hope for if you needed cancer surgery.
After the Zoom, Wifey called, and she and Edna gave me their Canarsie accented analysis: "Edna -- I think he just craves attttttennnntion." Edna agreed, and unsuccessfully tried to argue the semantics of my post -- it was indeed accurate.
They're both correct, of course. I'm a wildly unrequited comedy writer -- always looking for outlets. I have this blog, which one of Wifey's former friends Rosie pointed out was often NOT at all funny, and my beloved text chains with a group of witty, distinguished gentlemen. And then there's FaceBook.
The Ds want me off of it. But I enjoy the silliness of it, and learning, every once in awhile, how big my audience really is, even though many of the readers never comment, or "like" or "dislike" the posts.
That's ok -- it still provides me with enjoyment -- along with my fellow prodigious poster Norman, who, by the way, was kind enough to buy me a delicious post surgery lunch at Perry's. In retrospect, though, I should have started drinking then.
So, Steve Sapp told us he was dying 41 years ago. Thankfully he's still in wonderful health, retired and enjoying his life with his amazing wife Mary and one of their son and family, in Maryland.
And I'm dying, too, and have now SURVIVED cancer surgery, as well as the beginning of Wifey leaving.
It's all true.
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