“One Perfect Thanksgiving…”

Thanksgiving, 1998
d'Philip with daughter Valerie and sons Cassidy & Julian

      It was Wednesday night, the 25th of November in 1998, I will remember that date, that night for the rest of my life. During those early days of Life in The Natural State, since relocating from Chicago in June, things began to get better quickly. In November, over the Thanksgiving weekend, we planned a visit from my brother and his wife, they were escorting Cassidy to Arkansas. On the night before they arrived, while Kelly, Julian and I were sitting around enjoying the television, the front door knocked and something very extraordinary happened; my daughter, Valerie Anne, the little girl I had not seen and could not find for so many long years, was standing there on our front porch with my mother! November 25, 1998 it was one week after Valerie’s 15th birthday and 13 years since we had last seen each other!  I cannot express the shock of joy, the vast rush of emotion that came over me when she stepped into our doorway, my knees nearly buckled as we slowly stepped towards one another while my mother, Kelly, Julian and God watched over us with all smiles. Tears, filling her deep blue eyes, her little chin quivering slightly, she whispered, “Dad?”

“Yes…” my own cheeks soaked with both Love and Fear, “I am your father, Valerie…I am d’Philip Chalmers and I have been looking for you since the day you were born, child…God, you’re here, I can’t believe it…”

“I, I, I…” she began to gush and rushed towards me, hugging me tightly and sobbing, “I can’t believe it’s really you!”

“Valerie, I never stopped looking…” I began to explain but my mother, being the mastermind behind this brilliant surprise, cut me off, “…for you.”

“I told Valerie you were living here in Arkansas…” mom shut the door, took off her coat and handed it to Kelly. Holding both Valerie and I tenderly by the arm, she smiled with her own tears of joy, “We talked her mother into letting Valerie come visit Nana for Thanksgiving, Valerie told her mother she didn't want me to spend the holiday alone, isn't she sweet?” my mom smiled slyly, Valerie blinked innocently and just kept looking at me, mom continued the story, “Valerie and I decided to keep a secret, we didn't want her mother to know you were here, otherwise she would never, ever let Valerie come spend Thanksgiving, or any time at all with Nana!” mom pulled Valerie and I close, the three of us softly sobbing, “Now you are together, at last, I have my first born and his first born…Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Wow, I can’t believe it!” I asked Valerie, “Did you know you were coming here to meet me, I mean, yeah…you did, but since when?”

“Nana told me for my birthday,” Valerie wiped the tears from her big beautiful eyes, her mother’s eyes, soulfully blue and clear, pure, so innocent, “It was our little secret! My mother told me you were in a cult in Nevada, but I already knew you were living here with your family…” Valerie’s smile beamed as she turned from us, knelt down in front of little Julian, “My name is Valerie, what’s your name?”

“Julian!” he gleefully cheered with his arms open wide, “Valerie!”

“Yes, I’m Valerie…” they tightly embraced, “I’m your sister!”

“Julian knows you, Valerie…” Kelly smiled, her glasses too fogged with misty joy, “We all do, your father never stops talking about you, he’s told both the boys about their big sister…the first night we met, he told me about you.”

“Really?” Valerie looked up at Kelly and then at me and then again at Kelly as she scooped Jules up in her arms, “I never knew, I mean, my mother was always telling me different things, not good things.”

“Huh, how is your mom?” I asked as we all took a seat, “Be sure to tell her I said hello!”

“Oh my!” Valerie blushed and we all laughed. Over the next couple hours, as we all shared stories about our lives, about our plans for this weekend and even about the future. Valerie declared, with a true neo modern Southern Belle determination, like Scarlet O'Hara from “Gone With The Wind”, Valerie, in a firm voice bellowed, “Now that I know the truth, I know where and who you are, you're not the monster she said you were either, I declare!” she said that and chuckled, “There's nothing that can stop me, I mean it,” her Carolina voice strong, “She can go to hell because now I know the truth!”

Thanksgiving 1998 was a most perfect holiday, one of the best I’ve ever had in my life.  No longer feeling ill of mind, I had a steady job with ambition and plans to build upon, I liked that me very much, I was happy, solid. For the first time in any of our lives, all three of my children together at the same time, in the same place, it was my vision of Bliss. I have a woman who loves me, who still loves me even though we’d been through hell in the short 3½ years we had been together. Kelly loves all of me, inside and out, the good, the bad and the ugly of me, this is my vision of Love. I have my mother’s never ending devotion and support all my crazy life. My mother who brought about that wonderful gift of bringing all of us together, of making all this happen in such a magical, wonderful way. I have my brother, I was feeling closer to him than I had in many years, I could sense that he too somehow still believed in me. I remember, I sat at one end of the table, my brother along with his wife at the other end of this Cornucopia table of Goodness and between us along either side of the table, my mother and my wife, all three of my children, I felt a true sense of patriarchal responsibility. I held up my glass of wine, “If I may?” I tilted my head, glanced at mom and then continued, “Dear God in The Cosmos, we thank you for this bountiful feast, we are a fortunate family because we have so much of everything, especially Love, to share. Please bless us all with continued good health, with fair and worthy welfare and with as much time on this planet as you can possibly afford each of us; however, dear Heavens, I am most Grateful for right now...Here's to The Best Thanksgiving Ever!”

“Amen!” everybody toasted and giggled, so much Love was passed around the table that night. The food was filling our bellies, but the Love spilled from our hearts. The rest of weekend was a flash, yet so many memories were made, doing a few simple things all together. We all went bowling, this was a sporting game my mother grew up on and shared with me, and now mine, I have so many images of Valerie helping either Cassidy or Julian. Images of their smiles, the sound of their laughter echo inside my head like old recordings. We went horseback riding because Valerie had never been on a horse before and I loved riding but hadn't done it in years. Flashes in the forest along the wooded trail. I watched Valerie upon her horse, she held Julian tightly as the horse's tail swatted flies. Come Sunday everyone flew back home, there were many tears, dozens of big tight hugs, but such happiness and Love we were probably glowing. Valerie and I promised, this was just the beginning of the rest of our lives together, we will never let it get away from either of us ever again, no matter what, no matter who; Valerie knew, I was her father and I Loved her with All that Love is, for the rest of time, the rest of Life, I was her daddy.       

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Available at dphilipchalmers.net
First Edition Authographed Plus!

               This excerpt from the new book, “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…”, is something worth sharing with everyone this week, it again being that time of year, this holiday now upon us, the season about to boil into another frenzy of consumer obsessions and the endless jingle of a thousand of lonely commercials. This Thanksgiving of 2014 is our first one in California, two thousand miles away from almost everyone we know, it’s going to be a very low-key and small affair with simply the four of us and perhaps my elderly uncle from San Francisco (I hope). We’re planning a small bird, perhaps a pot of carrot rice soup, some potatoes, cranberries and stuffing…and I think I might try to bake a blueberry pie too! It’s not going to be easy to be so far away, but in some ways, it’s kind of nice too. Please understand, we love our family and friends dearly. We love them so much that every year around this time of year we stress out because we’re hosting or attending gatherings, trying to buy everyone something special or at very least, unique and thoughtful. We work harder, longer hours to cover all the extra expenses and the time passes so quickly that come the first week of January, we’re wondering if it even happened at all! This year we’re sending a photo postcard to everyone, we’re committed to making each other presents only (no buying things) and the only gatherings we’ll be attending are at home, just the family. I like it like that too!

               This last couple of months of each year always finds me feeling reflective, aside from the dawning of a New Year, I also have the Sagittarian honor of celebrating my own unique personal holiday (12/07) so it’s natural for me to “take stock” of my life during the final 60 days of each year. I like to assess my progress towards my goals and dreams, I like to get an inventory of how the family is doing both as a whole and individually. I take time to speculate on the things that worked, the things that didn’t work out and how I might do it differently given another spin around the sun. I make an effort to plan a strategy for the next year or five, I work on my continuing recovery/management of my health issues and I’ll even add an item or two to “reward” myself to my list of wants and desires…I’m not the only one, I’m sure, it’s common to evaluate one’s life every year or so, right? In my own cycle, November is a sad month, a time to let go of all my sadness and pain, I let myself sink into these feelings for a while too. It’s important for me to acknowledge and feel these hurtful feelings because if I don’t, the ill feelings build up and then seep out through my life in so many worse ways. I wait until Thanksgiving until I turn my attention back to the present and future. A week or so after this very American holiday, it’s my own personal holiday, then the whole X-mas thing ending with a New Year’s bang! This how my cycle works, yours might be different, but for me I let the grief sweep over me, then offer my gratitude for the blessings I have, enjoy the celebration of family during the X-Mas daze until, finally, we step into the future with a New Year!

               So this week I am feeling those shifting emotions, those currents in the ocean of Life that ebb and tide me through this experience like a kite on the breeze. I go to my knees on the shores of salvation, offering my Grateful appreciation for being grounded, for being here in this space/time continuum, well rounded another year gone by and another just upon the horizon, like the promise of a new dawn, I feel strong, I feel alive, I feel…and the ability to truly feel, for me, is indeed a unique and valuable asset. Please, dear readers, if there is only thing I ask from you during this entire post this week, it is this simple thing; Offer your most sincere gratitude to your loved ones, your friends and neighbors, those in your community, the people who people your life, be sure to be Grateful for them this week and if you’re so lucky as to be with these people, tell them how much you appreciate their presence in your Life. It’s more important than giving thanks to anything else, anyone else…give your prayers of thankful appreciation to those who make up the fabric of your Life, for without them, not even God has meaning.

Have a Happy, Grateful Thanksgiving…Take care & be well!

Peace,

d’Philip

“My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” used by permission of The Intrepid Editor Press Ltd. and is available (LIMITED autographed first edition) at dphilipchalmers.net OR at your favorite purveyor of books, magazines and gifts everywhere.

“It’s All About A Girl…”

Valerie Anne & Father d'Philip, 18 November 1983

North Carolina, in the area where Rachel’s family lived and worked, was called “The Research Triangle Park” and her father was a chemist who helped develop the synthetic fabric of Rayon as well as something to do with lithium ion batteries. Her brother too, also a scientist, was working on some top secret government project and still living at home with his folks. Her mother, who had never worked a day in her life, was the classic Southern Belle, very prim and proper but with a mean, inflexible streak that often showed itself towards me when we arrived on their doorstep in mid August of 1983. Rachel was six months pregnant and clearly showing, she was sick all the time and when we got to Raleigh, it was so hot outside that Rachel couldn’t leave the house very often so I explored the region on my own in between job hunting interviews. I had my classic rock and roll look when we first got there, my long naturally curly hair past my shoulders, my ever present beard thick and bushy. I dressed casually, for comfort and based on my mood. That soon changed at the constant and unrelenting coercion of this conspiracy between Rachel, her hell bent mother and her close friend, the lesbian maternity nurse Dawn. Every day, anytime, I was being harassed about my looks. I was reminded that I needed to fit in to find a good job, I was ridiculed for my hippy rags and patchouli smelling hairy ass too. Within weeks of being there I cut my long curly hair very short, I completely shaved off my beard and went shopping at a hoity-toity department store for some dress shirts, ties and a couple of business suits. I paid for a professional resume, signed up with an employment agency and started talking to a business coach.

By Labor Day, I certainly looked and felt like a completely different person. The day after Labor Day I was hired by The Combined Insurance Company, a Chicago company started by Positive Mental Attitude guru W. Clement Stone, as an insurance customer service agent. That was a fancy title for a job as a traveling insurance salesman. The company sent me to Richmond, Virginia for a three week training course and after I passed my insurance adjusters exam, in the first week of October, I started in the field. The field was a very big territory to work, I was traveling by car so I traded in the old ’72 Ford LTD Station Wagon for a new 1982 Chevy Cavalier. During those first couple of weeks Rachel and her mother found and rented a small, cute two bedroom townhouse in a little berg called Apex, just southwest of Raleigh. Together they started to fill the townhouse with pieces of furniture, making a little home, building a little nest just started playing house with my money and good credit. I always left my checkbook at home for Rachel to take care of bills and whatnot, I had a company credit card for my road expenses so for several weeks that autumn and we used system which seemed to work. I did fairly well with The Combined Insurance Company in the beginning, I was really into the whole “PMA” (Positive Mental Attitude) model of motivation and management. I sold a lot of new policies, upgraded even more existing policies and won something every single week I was out on the road. All the bosses liked me and started talking about this becoming a career for me. I wasn't so sure of that, but for the time being, I played along.

The third week of November I was leading a small team of salespeople in a little border town called Lumberton, North Carolina. It was a particularly intense week, we wrote a lot of new policies and every night we’d celebrate at the motel bar with many drinks, some dancing and flirting.  On Thursday night, the 17th of November, I was in the bar with the four other salespeople and one of the women, who very drunk, was making very explicit passes at me by rubbing me between the legs, nibbling on my neck and whispering dirty thoughts into my ear. I was thinking about going back to her room with her but decided to instead call Rachel. It was still early evening and next week, on the 25th of November, was the due date for our baby. I went to my room, dialed our number but there was no answer. We had no answering machine so I changed from my work clothes into some sweat pants and t-shirt, flipped on some old movie and tried calling again a little later. An hour or two went by and I tried several more times, but there was no answer. It was sometime just past midnight when the guy I was sharing the room with stumbled in with some girl.  I was still on the phone, still trying to get a hold of Rachel.  “Dammit!” I slammed the phone down and then, while calling her parent’s phone number, I explained to the drunk guy and his friend, “I think there’s something up at home, with the baby…”

“Who’s your baby?” the guy cracked himself up and flopped on the bed, “Shit!”

“Is the baby born yet?” asked the girl, “What do you mean?”

“I think I need to leave…” I started to explain when Rachel’s brother, Mark answered, “Mark? It's me...”

“Hello?” he said and repeated, “Hello, hello?”

“Mark? It’s d’Philip, what’s up?” I could feel it, I knew it, “Did she have the baby yet?”

“No, they just got to the hospital…” Mark explained, “Mom and dad just left to meet them there...where are you?”

“Lumberton.” I answered and asked, “Who is Rachel with?”

“Dawn.” Mark was talking about Rachel’s best friend, the lesbian nurse, “She’s been with Rachel all week.”

“Shit…” I hissed, “Thanks Mark, gotta fly!”

I hung up, grabbed my bags and loaded the car quickly. The hospital in Raleigh was about 100 miles from where I was in Lumberton but at some time past midnight, I was racing along the empty highways at nearly 90 miles an hour. I made the 2 hour drive in a little over an hour, but I was too late.  Rachel gave birth to a baby girl at 2:07am on Friday the 18th of November in 1983! “She’s beautiful!” I walked into the after birth room and saw Rachel holding the baby close. I leaned forward and planted a soft gentle kiss on the child’s head and then smiled up at Rachel, “She is perfect!”

“I know.” Rachel was glowing and even looked beautiful as she lifted the baby into my waiting arms, “What should we name her?”

“I want to name her Valerie…” I couldn’t take my eyes off this little miracle in my trembling arms, “Valerie Anne Chalmers.”

 “Anne, after me?” Rachel was referring to her middle name, “I like that.”

“Yeah…” I was lying, for me the name Anne was for my father’s late mother, my Nana. Our baby’s first name, Valerie was because I believed she was conceived on Valentine’s Day as well as because the name demonstrated valor. I felt since I picked the girl over the rock and roll dream, it showed my valor as a human being.  Her name would simply be, “Valerie.”

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Available Now Everywhere!

The above excerpt from “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” is a significant turning point in my life, as it is for anyone who has experienced the birth of their first child. There are so many different and complex feelings for anyone that experienced this joy of becoming a parent for the first time. There is a lot of happiness, especially if all is well for baby and mama, but there are unique and distinctively “male oriented” feelings the father experiences. At least, this father experienced a range of emotions, from that euphoric joyfulness to self-inflicted forms of terror and fear. There is a suddenly new set of responsibilities and expectations. It’s difficult to manage, for even the most level headed fellow, when you become a father for the first time, when you hold that little baby in your arms, there is a rushing flush of emotional tides which washes across you and truly changes who you are a man. You are not just a man now, you are a father…you become somebody’s dad! It’s different, although equally as joyful and complex, with subsequent children, but there’s something special when it’s your very first time. The feeling that this tiny little baby is now going to depend on you to provide everything this child needs, from the material matters and shelter and financial obligations but more importantly, this child is also going to depend on you, the dad, for guidance and help and support and encouragement and sympathy and most importantly, a lot of Love, for the rest of your life. That changes you and if you are fortunate, it’s a change for the better. I know it was for me, from that moment forward until this very moment now, it’s still and always been about the girl…Then about my other children too, but over the years my driving force is completely fueled by this Love for my children, by my challenge to provide them with everything they need, everything I can as best as I can for the rest of my surreal Life!

Valerie Anne Chalmers 2000
13 November 1983- 16 April 2001

My first born child, Valerie Anne should be here to celebrate her 31^st Birthday on this 18^th of November in 2014 but she was murdered when she was 17 years old. That, however, is a story for another time (or better yet, get a copy of my book and read for yourself). On this day, all this week, we as a family celebrate Valerie’s birth and short, tragic life. This girl ignited something inside of me which forever changed me and I am beyond obligation to keep her memory, her Love, her smile and that delicate, precious soul I helped start alive for my other three children, for my family, for myself…but for her, Valerie Anne, I want the world to know how very special you are to me. I am so Grateful for having you in my Life and I most certainly would not be the person I am today if it were not for both your Life and Death…Bless you my precious angel, shine brightly so daddy sees your star every morning, just before dawn, a little left of Jupiter, there you are…part of the universe. I Love You.

"My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On..." published 2014 by The Intrepid Editor Press Ltd. is available at www.dphilipchalmers.net (LIMITED first edition, authographed copy) OR at your favorite purveyor of books, magazines and gifts...Just ask for it!

Crippled Inside

         “Alex, you have to tell somebody at work, you need to get some support because we’re not going to be able to do this alone…” Angie held her husband’s trembling hands. They have been talking about his recent diagnosis with BiPolar Disorder and a recent PTSD episode that landed Alex Gilbert in the hospital for almost a week. He has been home for two weeks, still recovering but it was time to get back to work. Angie was trying to build his confidence, she was doing her best, “Alex, just talk to Jerry, you know he will understand, he will help you, I know he will! Remember how he helped Walter, when he had cancer?”

         “That was cancer, that’s different.” Alex let his tears drip slowly and hung his head, “Angie, this is a mental illness, this is crazy man, the lunatic who goes nuts with an Ooze at lunch on Thursday!”

         “No, you’re not like that, you have a legitimate condition, you has a post traumatic episode baby…that was hard, harder than most people can fathom! Alex, you lost your child, your 17 year old girl…that’s the worst kind of pain, baby.”

         “I get six weeks, that’s all the law allows…” Alex was talking about The Family Medical Leave Act, but his real fear was for the future, “I’m not ready, I’ll fall apart I’ll flip out…no, I don’t know…” Alex buried his face into a rushing pool of tears, “I’m just useless, I’m worthless!”

“No, baby, no…” the loving wife comforts her crippled husband until the medications he’s taking lull him to sleep again. This is the story of Alex Gilbert, he is at very least the one of every two adult Americans who will suffer a serious struggle with an episode of mental illness according to a recent report by The Center for Disease Control. If Alex is lucky his episode will pass, he will have a full recovery and his life will resume a reasonable and normal reality. However, for Alex and too many other Americans, it’s not so fortune because in that same CDC report (July, 2013), it’s stated that one in every four adult Americans suffer from a chronic mental illness, the type of disease that will not go away, cannot be cured and only very carefully managed. That’s basically 25% of our population and yet, oddly enough, the stigma and discrimination against persons with mental disabilities has become worse over the past quarter century. This is a staggering thought when you ponder it a moment, it’s much like the AIDS/HIV stigma, the Gay stigma…or even, perhaps, the “negro-black-anything ethnic other than white” stigma. It’s that bad. Alex Gilbert will be a lucky one, he will talk to his boss and the very progressive high tech company he works for will indeed help Alex manage his illness. However, Alex also becomes the 1 in 4 persons afflicted with a chronic mental illness and as much as his wife Angie loves him, she cannot hold to their relationship. Life goes on, Angie’s last words the day she moved out, “Life goes on, you’ll see and you will get better too…but I need to look out for me now.”

That’s the way it goes, except sometimes, it goes the other way too. Like my fictional friend Alex Gilberts, I really do suffer from several serious mental illnesses as well as had a very similar PTSD episode over the loss of a child. I discuss my trials and tribulations in my new book “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” and this is not what today’s article is about, it’s not about me or some other poor individual dealing with these complex and challenging issues. This article is about YOU, the other 3 of the 4 that is NOT suffering with an invisible disease like mental illness. The intention and point I’d like to make to for you to please consider and then perhaps re-consider several more times, what it might be like to be crippled inside like people like me are, when you have no control over what your thoughts or emotions are doing, it’s being incontinent of the mind, except instead of wetting your pants, you’re pissing people off (but you can’t somehow seem to help it)! But that’s not your problem, it’s ours to manage and deal with, what you should pay attention to is how you perceive and interact with those of us who are struggling with this affliction. Some of us, many of us, are sensitive people with sometime fragile feelings. Words can hurt certainly, but so can those looks you might glance our way. I hate when people steer clear of me, as if they might catch my moment of madness. If I had no use of my legs and I hobbled along, would you look at me the same way? How about if I had diabetes and experiencing a moment of low blood sugar, you’d probably have a more empathetic reaction. If we were blind, we get help crossing the street but when we’re crippled inside, when our disease, our disorder, our wounds are on the inside, they are all but invisible. I’ve even had a relative simply tell me, “It’s all in your head!” and he could not have been exactly more right!

While you’re pondering that notion, here’s something else you might also consider and it’s something that relates directly to YOUR well-being. We all place a lot of trust and guidance in the medical arts and science and with good reason (most of the time), could we agree on this as being a base element? If so, then it’s perfectly logical that an individual will visit their primary doctor once a year for a check-up and most people don’t mind doing that too much if they’re in good health. Sometimes, when our doctors finds something not normal in our blood tests, perhaps something related to our digestive system or cardiovascular system, we’ll see other doctors who will, hopefully, help us avoid the grim reaper. If, heaven forbid you are like our daughter, she was diagnosed as a Type-1 diabetic when she was 4 years old, you learn to manage and survive on an insulin dependent management plan. People understand that too, they accept it. All seriousness aside, if you randomly ask somebody, what’s the worst doctor to see, more often they say it’s the dentist. Yet, when your teeth hurt, when it’s got to be dealt with, we all deal with it and everybody seems to pretty much accept it for whatever it is, right? People understand that too, they empathize (and sometimes ask for your pain pills too)!

Why then is it, when it comes to perhaps the most important organ of all, our brain, we’re so deathly afraid of it that we blame the poor dentist and not the psychiatric/neurological systems? It’s said, it might even be fact, but the brain control almost everything at some level doesn’t it? It processes all this information, it creates electrical impulses which keep the heart beating and we can transplant the heart; have we done that with a brain yet? It’s still too complex to understand how and why the brain is able to function in the multitude of ways it does, but miracle of life and all that, it does what it does and sometimes, like any other organ in the human body, there can be some sort of dysfunction. There are so many active systems in the brain too, it’s a virtual matrix of all the human bodies every function. There is a series of chemical components, they have effects like very specific types of drugs which create a response in another part of the brain. A very complex network of synapses of electrical impulses, triggering and transmitting information faster than light with data immeasurable to our abilities. The organization of the brain is not one lump mass of matter, there are several different zones which control specific activities of the body which is all tied together by a glandular system supported with a cardio vascular and oxygen based energy source and probably more elements we’re not even aware of yet. We’re still only talking about the brain too, one has to go even further to explore what exactly the mind is and how that might possibly work. I think, however, you get the gist of this paragraph; the brain is indeed a complex and still relatively unknown area of medicine and the probability that something, somewhere or somehow, was damaged or is not properly working inside this massive matrix mounted on top of our necks, is most certainly plausible.

I don’t mean to diverge so much into the basic science of things, I’m hardly a scientist, in fact, if anything, I have been the guinea pig in the story. I could cite many famous and highly successful people with mental illness if that would make you feel better, but I’d rather you look around you, in your circle at work, your group of friends, your family…think about that fact…the CDC reports 1 in 4 adults suffer from a chronic mental illness…and ask yourself, truthfully…who is it or could it possibly be you? Then please, let the next thought be, do they need help? In a perfect world we’d all be able to deal with people in the middle of a psychotic episode, in that same perfect world we could be one another’s therapists always helping each other work out those complex feelings we each feel throughout life, but this is not a perfect world like that…sometimes we need to leave some things to the professionals. Sometimes the best thing we can do, as hard as it is, is leave too. Ultimately what it is, this Life is a crazy, mixed-up and confusing place, it’s easy to lose your way, so when you know somebody who has trouble dealing with Life, cut them slack (cause that could easily be you)!

In conclusion, although I hope I’ve perhaps made you think or smile a bit, I’m most interested in hearing about the struggles of others too. I know my path has not been easy, it’s been a hard row to hoe, I wrote a bloody book about it and yet, still, now…I’m still there, like maybe you or one of your friends…Life Goes On and if there’s anything we can do for each other, is try to act like it’s that perfect world where we’re there for each other, somehow, someway, we’re all here for each other because that is the true nature of Life on Planet Earth.

Take care & be well,

d’Philip Chalmers

11 November 2014

The San Joaquin Valley

The California Republic