Posted in Serious Stuff on July 4, 2015 by bpyounger

A friend of mine recently posted on Facebook that  she was now single after 30 years of marriage. That they were separating amicably and they both deserved to be happy. Another one of my friends commented ( not an exact quote) that it sounded like it was what she wanted so Congratulations. Really. How , after that much time together, does separating deserve congratulations? How after all the years of love , does losing that love deserve congratulations? How does one congratulate someone for the loss of a  family unit that has grown the children to adulthood? All the years of birthday parties and holidays that now will be missing someone. I understand that divorce happens, but I guess that I’m a romantic that believes that after that much time there would be forgiveness and a desire to fight for the marriage. I actually hope that they do find happiness in their future lives. It’s just a shame they decided to do it separately.

When divorce happens near me it tends to make me reflect on my own marriage. So I’m now going to reflect. I think I’ll do that by renewing my vows. They were traditional so they may seem old-fashioned.

I Bryan take Pearl to have and to hold from this day forward :

Ever since I worked up enough courage to tell my best friends girlfriend that I had fallen in love with her, there has been only one woman who I could ever be with. Have all the days been filled with flowers and rainbows? No, people who expect that aren’t realistic. But she is the one person on this Earth that truly knows me, that understands that I’m not that exciting of  a person and still stays and still loves me. I know she always will, just as I will her.

For better,  for worse :

There have been times of both. times of extreme happiness and joy, times of anger and sorrow. Times when we can’t imagine being apart for more than a few hours , I text her and talk to her from work every day just because I love to hear her voice. Times we couldn’t speak to each other because we were angry. Communication isn’t our strong suit, but through all those times one thing is unshakable, our love for each other. We may have our problems, but we will work them out eventually, and while doing so, we still love each other.

For richer ,  for poorer :

There’s been a lot of for poorer. I’m never going to be a wealthy man, I’ll just have to make do with what God provides me with, he knows what I need to survive. I’ll be blessed to receive whatever he gives me. Things like my wife, kids , granddaughter , my home. HMMMM , maybe I’m rich after all. Being rich is a state of mind . I’m rich with love. I’ll take that everyday over Earthly wealth. I would rather have nothing than to go without the love of  my family. All the stuff that money buys is just that, stuff. It’s unimportant.

In sickness and in health :

We’ve been blessed in this area. Nobody has anything major , Thank you God. Most of the time it’s Pearl taking care of me and one of my many, many cuts and contusions I give myself on a regular basis. But if the day ever comes and I would have to give up everything to take care of her I would.

To love and to cherish :

I love my wife with every fiber of my being.  Sometimes probably too much. I cherish every second I am blessed to share with her , whether we are happy or angry, sad or joyous. The two have become one flesh. She brought all the best parts of that glorious mess. I couldn’t be who I am without her.

Till death do us part :

When my mom passed, I was able to witness this part of life . I watched my normally stoic father weep at the side of my mother’s bed telling her, as much as it crushed him, that it was O.K if she left. Even though in his mind it really wasn’t. He was beside her all through her deterioration holding her hand telling her he loved her, comforting her even when she would get out of control because of her strokes. I saw the pain in his eyes when he had to call his son to help pick her up off the floor because he was no longer able to do it. I think for the first time in my life I saw just how much he loved her. I want that kind of love. The kind of love that only comes from 60 years together. The kind of love that comes from being one flesh.

My friend says she’s happy because she gets to continue having her adventures in travel. She has it wrong, the adventure is a life spent well with the person you love. All else is unimportant. Congratulations….. no , I’m sorry for your loss.




Keep Me Accountable

Posted in Uncategorized, Working Out Stuff on January 18, 2015 by bpyounger

Well now that you’re all here, this is the reason I’m doing this again. I’m trying to lose some weight and I want your help. I’m planning on using this as an online weight loss diary. So here goes.

My starting weight is 232lbs. Geez I’m fat slow and tired. Us Younger men are generally pretty much barrel bodied, you know kind of round around the middle. I’m going to keep my goals small, that way I hopefully have some sense of accomplishment when I achieve them. My first goal is 220. My whole adult life I’ve bounced between 220 and 230. To me my weight is really just a number, I actually try to keep some muscle on me, nobody looks at a skinny, gaunt runner and says ” Wow he looks great without any shoulders, and those skinny arms, WOW!”. Those online weight calculators say I should be around 190. I’ve never been below 200 since high school. The lightest I’ve been is 203 and I was pretty thin then but it wasn’t maintainable for me.

My job does a pretty good job of keeping my arms muscular but they need definition. So back to the weight bench I go. In  an attempt to slim down I’m also going to be using my treadmill, also known as the hamster wheel. I’ve posted this before but it bears reposting. It’s pretty much what I look like on it.

What I need out of you is to keep me going make sure that I am doing what I say I’m going to do. Please leave comments of encouragement, inspiration, or motivation ( even if it’s tough love). I tend to lose interest and I start making excuses why I can’t work out. I’m tired, I’m sore , I’m too busy, I don’t want to mess up my hair. The same excuses that I’m sure some of you have used. I’ll keep you posted.

P.S I did my first workout yesterday and it went pretty well except for the making my self a little sick. Guess I over did it a bit. I’m really sore this morning. Ouch! Today is leg day , I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Here We Go Again

Posted in Blog Stuff on January 17, 2015 by bpyounger

OK, I know I’ve been absent from the blog world for a while, but I am going to try my best to get back into this. When I started this thing, it was the cool trendy thing to do( Well I thought I was). I used to write frequently but to be honest I’m a little, the correct term would be writer’s blocked. I would use the term, word constipated ( because it’s in there, under pressure, but it just won’t come out). I’ve been gone so long that my links on the side are wrong or just dead( It still has my Myspace page on it that no longer exists). I’ll have to catch those up. So bear with me and revisit this blog . I’ll be writing more often and feel free to comment here, you’ll have to give me an email address, but it won’t be published and I promise I won’t spam you. ( I’ll post to Facebook, even though I’m kind of bored with that) and I promise you’ll be one of the people who says,” What is wrong with Him”.

29 Years… When did that happen?

Posted in Family stuff on September 7, 2014 by bpyounger

29 Years ago today I woke up after a short night of restless sleep ,  went through the morning ritual of getting ready with the exception of one thing. I was getting married. I was scared to death. In a day and age when half of the people who said ” I do” only to say ” I don’t” a few years later , how do you make it last? The experts all said marriage is hard work, that was never was one of my strongest suits. Almost all of my siblings had been through a divorce. Plus I was always a screw up, so there is that.

But, I was already blessed. I was, according to my brother, marrying the last good woman on Earth. I had changed my life just to have a chance to be with her. She had helped me find God, who , after all my screwing up was actually right beside me, guiding me to this day. To this woman. The love of my life. My life would be meaningless without her in it.

We went through , after the review of the video tape, possibly the worst wedding ever. Not the one she wanted at all. Our photographer was horrible. The pastor demanded to be paid, I thought he was going to bill me. We had trouble getting into the church. The piano player sounded like she was just learning the ” Wedding March” song. My nephew , the ring bearer, was rolling around on the ground. At the reception I was pretty much French kissed by her Uncle. But we were married.


The experts were wrong. Our marriage hasn’t been hard work , oh sure there have been rough times, mostly my screw ups. But all in all it hasn’t been work. It’s been joy. Without her I wouldn’t have all this.

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or this

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Happy anniversary Pearl. I love you!



Kid # 1

Posted in Family stuff on December 22, 2011 by bpyounger

I’ve been trying to write for several days now and I just couldn’t. This is probably the most painful thing I’ve written about so I’m going to treat it like a band-aid and just rip it off.

I’m the baby of the family or kid # 6. My parents numbered us for fun and it kind of stuck.There’s Janel and Gwen, kids #5 and #4. Greg and Gary kids #3 and #2 and Roger kid #1. Roger passed away last week.

When we were living in Italy Roger and I were roommates. He was in highschool I was in kindergarten. Quite an age gap. I would have to go to bed before him so I would fill his bed whatever toys I had handy. He would come in every night, pull down his covers and clear off his bed before going to sleep. He tolerated an obnoxious 5 year old.

All that time together we bonded,  a bond that seemed closer to him than with my other siblings. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of them with all my heart but Rog and I just fit together. I’ve always looked up to my older brothers. I can remember when I was in fifth grade Gary was a machinist , I thought that was cool so when the class started learning how to do taxes The profession I chose to list was a machinist. When I got into highschool Greg was an electronics technician, I thought that was cool so I took electronics. When I was fifteen one summer I worked for Rog. He was a car painter. I found out that I really liked working with my hands . I also found out that Roger was really an automotive artist. I could sit and watch him pinstripe a car for hours. He ignited a love of old cars that I still have today.

That’s my Uncle’s PT Cruiser that he painted for him. There are many, many modifications on it. Roger did most of them. The car was published in a magazine. I learned from Rog that I could handle tools and make stuff that I could be proud of. I pretty much bombed out of Junior High shop class. But he was patient with me and I learned. If I had chosen a different path in life I would probably have ended up a body man also. I love doing the work, I find it fun. I used to go to his shops all the time to try to do what really turned out to be a hobby for me. Probably too much time.

Over the years I always wanted one of his custom cars but it just never really worked out. He was always trying to teach me and there was just not enough time in my schedule. I can do some of the work, but  I wasn’t able to emulate all of his abilities. I’m just not as talented at it as he was.

Roger was also a very talented artist. The car is the car he was working on at the time of his death. It’s not how the customer wanted it, it’s just what he would have liked to do with it. That’s a scan of a photocopy so there is a lot of detail that was lost in the process. I’m going to borrow some of his other art and scan the originals, I’ll post them later. They are simply amazing.

Well, that was the easy part where I talked about his talents. Now I have to talk about his death. That day I got a call from Gwen telling me he was in intensive care. I knew he had an infection that he wasn’t taking care so I’ve kind of been expecting that. I get to the hospital and and find Rog. I walked in and he thanked me for coming and asked me if I had done anything to my truck. We chatted along those lines for a few minutes and I could see he was tired so I told him to get some rest and I would talk to him in a little while. I found my parents and proceeded to get the real story about his health. From the stuff they were telling me I knew that the outcome was at best going to be maybe an amputation and maybe dialysis. I waited for another chance to go back in to talk to him but he had to go down for an MRI. While he was down there we heard it “CODE BLUE TO MRI”. I knew it was him. The social workers began to show up and they walked my parents, sisters and I down to where they were working on him. I could hear them working , sounds which I never want to hear again. The Doctor came out and calmly told us that he was gone. Just like that, he was gone. Next thing I knew I was standing over his body watching my shell shocked parents try to digest what just happened. I never got to talk to him again. I should have told him I loved him. I tried to be strong for my parents, trying to comfort them. I eventually left the hospital and   I managed to keep it together until I got home . I crumbled in my wife’s arms. The first time she had seen me cry. Through all this she has been my steadying force. I thank God he put her in my life. I needed her.

Roger was kind and generous and almost everyone he met liked him. I miss him and will continue to use the talents he taught me.

La Mosca Del Diablo

Posted in Fun Stuff on October 9, 2011 by bpyounger

Prologue :

This incident happened about ten years ago. In an attempt to overcome my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I’m going to try to put my horror into words.

It all began on a quiet summer afternoon. The kind when all you want to do is sit back and relax with a cool drink that has condensation rolling down the glass. But this was not to be. This was the day that he got in. I don’t know how … but HE got in.

La Mosca Del Diablo!!!

Or The Devil’s House fly. He came into my house and began wreaking havoc almost immediately. Flying around landing on stuff, knocking stuff over and bouncing off the window and my bald head. All the time making that incessant BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!  He was larger than the normal fly and had with  lot more attitude.He was almost daring me to get a rolled up paper. Which I did.

I stood up with my weapon and began to chase him around the house. Which is exactly what he wanted . I swear I heard him giggle. I would get close to him and swing with all my might only to miss and hit a fragile object, shattering it. this continued for a while and he began to get braver. He was coming closer and closer. That’s all I needed. I was always a good hitter in baseball and he was like swinging at a hanging curveball. I swing with all my might and connect. WHACK! He sails across the room and hits a wall. It’s over . Peace has been restored.

I walked over to pick up the splattered remnants of the fly but I can’t find him. He is gone! I know I killed him, but he is gone!  I look behind the couch and while I’m looking I hear it… BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! He is still alive. I quickly spin around to find him and he bounces off my head again. Just to taunt me. I swing again and once again I connect. he sails across the room again and hits the floor. But he’s STILL alive. I ran across the room hoping to catch him while he’s dazed, but he recovers before I can get there . He quickly flies down the hallway and into the bathroom. I give chase. I caught up to him in the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

It is now the Thunderdome. “Two men enter, One man leaves”. I still have the rolled up paper in my hand and now begin flailing it around in an attempt to get lucky and hit him. But all I do is manage to cool him down with a nice breeze. He giggles once again and flies into my ear. He begins buzzing as loud as possible as if to say ” I dare you to swing now!!!” So I did! I connect… with my ear. He gets away, but my ear is ringing and I am dazed. While I was disoriented I dropped my paper and now I am completely unarmed. I’m just where he wants me, vulnerable. The fly lands on the handle of the plunger and much to my surprise he picks it up!! Not only did he pick it up, he hits me with it. I fell to the floor. While I’m down there being bludgeoned I noticed the toilet brush. I reach for it out of desperation.  I just barely can get it and turn around in time to block one of his many powerful blows. This gives me time to regain my footing and begins a duel that can only be rivaled by Obi-Wan and Anakin.

The only difference is that we are fighting with a plunger and a toilet brush. Just when I think I’ve got him cornered, out of desperation he throws his plunger at me. It stuck to my forehead like a giant suction cup dart. I’ve dropped my weapon again and I am staggering around trying to get the plunger off my head. It came off with a loud POP! Leaving behind a large hickey on my forehead. He quickly flies into my chest knocking me backwards and into the switch for the bathroom fan. Completly on accident, the fan is turned on. The vortex of air current is too much for him and he gets sucked out of the room and I assume out of the house. It is finished. I have survived.

I exit the bathroom and go into the living room. Pearl asks me what was going on. I told her that I was killing a fly, the whole time keeping my back to her so she couldn’t see my tears. She thinks I was laughing. They say that laughter and crying appear the same from behind, apparently they are correct.

I finally am able to look back on that day and reflect on it. I have a question or two. What happened to him? Did he survive the blades of the fan? I think I have my answer.

My dog had some of these in his skin this past summer( Pearl wrote about it here ) She thinks it was just a random fly. But I know it was him and he’s building an army of his children. Some day they are coming for me… Los Hijos de Mosca Del Diablo!!! The children of the Devil’s House Fly…. They are coming for me!!!!!

Baby’s Firsts

Posted in Fun Stuff on September 3, 2011 by bpyounger

I turned 49 a couple of weeks ago and my Mom got me a card . In it she reminded me that I was the baby of the family.  That made me think of all the firsts a baby has, but everyone stops counting firsts after a while.  I recently had another first in my life and that made me think of other firsts that people don’t keep track of. So here are some of my firsts.

Baby’s First…

… Birthday cake. I was four, my mom made me a cake shaped like a  bunny and one shaped like a giraffe. It wasn’t my first cake, but it is my earliest memory.

 …Pinched finger. I remember about the same time I got my finger slammed in a car door. My Dad took me to the doctor and the doctor burned a whole in the nail with a hot paper clip. It must have been sterile because I saw him heat it up with my Dad’s lighter. I’m sure that did the trick. Gotta love military doctors.

 …Round of shots for Italy. I was about five when my Dad got stationed in Italy. I remember having to get caught up on my shots in a hurry. I was the youngest so I needed the most. I felt like a pin cushion.

 …Friend. I don’t know if he was actually a friend, but I remember an Italian kid name Stefano coming to our apartment in Italy. I’m sure there were other friends but he is the one I remember for some reason.

 …Time being hit with a pitch. Baseball was a family thing. My brothers all played and my Dad coached. I was playing Pee-Wee at five. Ironically the first time I can remember being hit with a pitch I wasn’t batting. My brother Gary was warming up for a game and I don’t know if I wandered into the path of the ball or if my brother threw a wild pitch but I got hit in the thigh. It was probably a wild pitch because I wouldn’t walk into the warm area. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

 Bee sting. I was walking through the rec fields where we played ball and got stung on the thigh. It was probably no big thing but I was around five and I cried like a baby. I still have a fear of bees. I wrote about it before ( )

… Time being thrown out at first. I have always been able to hit the ball well. In my parents slide reels one of the first pictures is one of me hitting a ball, I was around four. My first official game I hit the ball and ran with all my might and was put out at first. I cried the coach comforted me. My next time at bat same thing. I cried some more, more comforting. What I didn’t realize was that in those two outs I made I had driven in four runs. All I could see was that I was out. You know why I was out? Because even though I could catch ( I played catcher), throw and hit, I couldn’t run . I have NEVER been a runner. Still can’t. I hurt my knee as a teenager ( I’ll get to that later)and now they could time me with a calendar.

  …Time being hit with a bat on top of the head. I played catcher in Pee wee baseball and a batter threw the bat. It landed square on top of my head. The kids these days have it too easy. They have helmets behind the catcher’s mask. I didn’t. I think that hit may have broken something in my brain that is yet to be healed. It would explain a lot!

 …Grade teacher. Joy Smith. I don’t know why I remember her name but I do. I also remember thinking that 2+2=22.

 …Plane ride. I know, I’ve been talking about living in Italy. I’m pretty sure that we drove the Country Squire wagon there. I don’t remember flying there. but I do remember flying back to the USA. I slept in the rear of the plane on some open seats laid out as a bed. I also got some pilots wings so if you ever want to let me pilot a plane for you, I’m qualified.

 …Night in a hotel in New York. When we got back to the states we landed in New York and spent the night in a hotel. I remember waking up to a noise that  I had never heard before… traffic. I also remember seeing the statue of liberty from a distance.

… Fall up the steps. Thats right, I said up. I was running up the incomplete stairs from the basement that was being constructed. There was no roof over the stairs and it was raining. I slipped and landed on my nose. Which brings me to…

…X-ray. I had broken my nose on the steps. It was the first X-ray in a file that eventually resembled ” War and Peace”.

… Motorcycle. I loved to ride my minibike I would crack the throttle all the way open and go as fast as I could, not surprisingly the motor seized. My parents replaced it with a 80cc Yamaha dirt bike. It was a lot faster and I could ride wheelies on it. A dangerous combination.

…Stay in the hospital. I actually hurt myself on my sisters 125cc Yamaha. Ironically it was probably one of the most minor crashes I ever had. I was turning around and bumped the front tire on a log. That pinned my knee between the gas tank and the handle bars, then I fell on that side. My brother had to pick me up and put me back on the bike and I rode it back to camp. We went to the hospital the next day, my knee was as big around as my thigh, it was broken. I spent a week in the hospital.

…Sparks of sarcasm. While I was in the emergency room the doctor made some passive aggressive comment to me like” I thought parents didn’t let their kids ride motorcycles anymore.” I replied,” That’s what you get for thinking.” He made some other comment I can’t remember, but I remember my response,” There you go thinking again.” My brother later bought me a book published by MAD magazine called ” Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions” , the world has never been the same since.

… Time being tortured by a sadistic doctor. My knee was broken and the doctor knew this and yet he checked my ligaments in the knee by tying them together and spreading my legs out to the sides, you know, the direction your knees aren’t supposed to bend. It was simply the most pain I have ever been in.  A shot of  Novacain would have been nice. The nurse even told my mother that ” That was rough.” I still think he was getting even for me being a smartass.

…gray hair he gave to his mother. After I got my cast off I was out riding wheelies in the back yard on the 80 Yamaha. I couldn’t walk, but I could ride. She looked like a ghost when she saw me.

 Well this is getting quite long so I think I will cut this short. The traumatic event that caused me to write this blog was this .

Baby’s first….( Drum roll please)

BIFOCALS!!!! Bi friggin focals! When did I get old? How is it possible that I need them? I am after all the baby of the family. I guess now that I’m a grandfather I needed the grandpa glasses to go with it. I just couldn’t read anymore. Through my glasses my arms were too short. Without my glasses I would practically have to put my nose on the page to see it. So I guess it was time.