Tag Archives: Mississippi

Eat Good, Die Happy

I was chatting recently with a buddy of mine that I’ve known for more than 20 years.  During that time, we worked together at three different places over the years in various capacities in different types of jobs. And we have kept in touch for much of that 20 plus years. Mostly we would talk about our kids, our relationships, and what mutual friends and former coworkers were doing. Lately, most of our keeping in touch is about doctor visits at the VA and cooking.  Since we’re both veterans and like to eat, we have a lot to talk about on both subject. 

In our recent conversation, he brought up having to change his diet for his health.  I told him that’s the worst part about getting the lab results at a doctor’s appointment.  I went on to tell him that I don’t mind dying one day, but I’d like to die happy.  Seriously, if I knew I was going to live this long I certainly would have taken better care of myself.  Coincidentally, I had just had an appointment with my primary care doctor at the VA the same day we were chatting and, among other things, the doctor went over my lab results from the previous week.  I, too, need to make a couple small changes.

This conversation with my long-time friend sparked a memory from my very early teenage years.  I was probably 12 or 13 years old, at my grandparent’s house on one of the many trips we used to take to visit them.  One evening, Grandpa pulled something out of the refrigerator for a snack.  Grandma scolded him, saying that the doctor told him not to eat that because it would kill him.  Grandpa put the lid back on the container, put it back in the fridge, and went about his business. No complaining, no arguing. That was the end of that.  Or was it? 

The next morning Grandpa and I were up early, probably getting ready to go out on his boat or some other adventure on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.  At one point while getting ready for our day, Grandpa got in the fridge and had that snack that he had been warned about the previous night.  Did he forget about being chastised by Grandma?  How could he forget something as important as not eating a specific food that would kill him?  I couldn’t believe it so I chimed in and reminded him.  “Grandpa, you can’t eat that!  Grandma said it would kill you!”  Grandpa smiled and what he said still resonates with me today.

Grandpa said, “Well, I’ll die happy then.”  And that was it.  That’s all he said about it.  He didn’t ask me to keep it a secret.  He didn’t try to explain or rationalize it.  He just wanted to eat whatever was in that old butter tub that was used for leftovers.  I can’t for the life of me remember what the food in question was.  And I have no idea what his lab results were that would make him have to change his diet, but he didn’t seem to care.  He was going to keep being himself no matter what the doctors suggested.  He was doing what made him happy. 

I’ve always been that way with food.  I don’t remember ever turning down a cheeseburger or pizza or biscuits and gravy.  And I love to cook.  If you are on my Facebook page, you’ve likely seen hundreds of food pictures.  Some pictures of the food I cook at home, some pictures of food at restaurants we like to go to.  I have a drawer full of printed recipes and a ton of screenshots on my phone of even more recipes.  I love to cook and I love to eat.  My Facebook page and my belly are proof.

For much of my adult life I was able to counter the effects of eating all kinds of good food by staying in shape.  I should probably point out that when I say “good food,” that doesn’t mean healthy “good,” it means tastebuds “good.”  But anyway, I would run a few miles a few times a week, occasionally do a little workout, and, of course, being in the Army Reserves we did a lot of activities that encouraged staying in shape.  Well, at least in “good enough” shape for me.  At any single point in my adult life, I could have benefited from losing 5 or 10 pounds to trim up my gut.  But that never bothered me because I was healthy, in decent shape, and could run for miles.  Not fast, but slow and steady miles.  I felt good,  I looked good, I was going to eat what I wanted. 

Let’s fast-forward to me now being in my mid-50s.  Add the aches, pains, injuries, surgeries, and other issues from working hard all my life. I now find it considerably harder to counter those effects from eating what I want, when I want.  I can’t do some of the things I used to.  And I miss doing those things, like running, working a “real” job, and just being more active in general.  I have a long list of problems that have developed over the last 5-10 years from my previous military service.  I’m planning on doing a blog entry of all those things in the near future.  Especially now that we seem to be figuring out some of the issues.  Well, maybe not figuring it all out as much as managing things.  That’s a mess of a story for another time. 

My lab results at my recent appointment weren’t horrible.  There are just a couple areas I need to address, nothing dire.  But I want to address those areas without adding to what seems like a myriad of medications that I’m already on.  I guess I should point out that some of those medications are why my labs aren’t worse.  But I don’t want more pills, I want fewer.  And when I asked my doctor about downsizing my pill collection, he said there was only one medicine that he might consider discontinuing.  So, I have to decide to either eat better (as in healthy), instead of just eating “good” the way I like to, or get back to where I can do some kind of exercise regularly.  The exercise part has become difficult since getting a joint replaced in my foot a few years ago.  After two surgeries, my foot still will never be good enough to run like I used to. Or walk long distances or even stand in one place for more than a little while.

So here’s the plan.  I’m going to keep eating what I like to eat because being happy is important to me.  But I’m also going to mix in a few salads and some healthy choices.  I will get back on my step-elliptical.  I was doing that regularly before my last foot surgery. I think I can still do it because of the minimal bend it requires with toes.  I won’t do anything crazy or drastic to change my lifestyle all at once. That rarely works for anyone. But there a handful of little things I plan to do for starters.  And then eventually build on that.  We’ll see how it goes.

I think Grandpa had the right idea, to some extent, about dying happy.  He went on to live for about 10 more years after that early morning conversation we had sometime around 1983.  Apparently, whatever it was he ate that morning wasn’t going to make him drop dead on the spot.  And whatever it was, I’m certain he ate it whenever he could get away with it.  But he was probably smart enough to only eat it once in a while, and only while Grandma wasn’t looking. Especially while Grandma wasn’t looking.

I think this is the lesson I want to take from my memory of that morning with Grandpa: Being happy is important, but sometimes we have to weigh what that happiness brings against what the side effects or dangers will be.  Going to the beach for 5 hours can make you happy, but that sunburn is going to be horrible unless you take precautions.  Rock climbing can make you happy, but that fall will kill you, so you better make sure your equipment is right.  And of course, eating “good” like I always have makes me happy, but I have to fix a few things with my eating habits. 

Thanks for stopping by Story of My Life today.  I hope you enjoyed it and maybe got a little motivation from it.  Good day, God Bless.

Dave

A small sample of pictures from the last few weeks of my eating and cooking adventures.

The Brick

I bought a house.  Way ahead of schedule for what my original plans were.  I thought it would be at least a couple more years before I was in a position to buy, but sometimes things work out.  It’s a great house, built in 1972, and had only one owner until I bought it last month.  The gentleman that bought the house almost 50 years ago passed away in January.  It does need a few minor things taken care of, but it got a brand-new roof and a complete electrical re-wire before closing.  The seller was extremely accommodating in selling the house she grew up in.

The move was a huge pain, not fun.  The closing had to be moved back a week, so I was worried about getting out of the condo I was renting by the time I said I would.  On top of that, Hurricane Sally was approaching the Gulf Coast.  And to make matters more stressful for me, I was the on-call guy at work for the week that my closing got pushed to.  We got our stuff moved in just before the weather deteriorated, all while working in between moving loads of stuff from one place to another.  And then the storm hit.  I worked a total of 17 days in a row.  I haven’t even come close to getting settled in yet at my new home.  But, I’m here, and I’m happy.  Things will fall into place as they will.  No hurry.

During my move I found many memories while packing.  It’s amazing to find stuff you haven’t seen in years and relive old times while going through closets and boxes.  One thing I found was a brick.  Just a simple, red brick.  It has no monetary value.  It’s not pretty or decorative.  But it might be the last one left of the bricks that were part of my grandparents’ house which was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina in 2005.  They had already sold that house at the end of Beach Bayou Rd in Biloxi, Mississippi years before, but my childhood memories of it still remained.

Grandma had all the Tupperware you would expect in a house during that era.  She had a tan sugar dish with a lid that opened on both sides.  Open one side and it pours out from a small hole; the other side was big enough to put a spoon in.  Of course, she had the orange pitcher with the push down lid.  Is Tupperware even a thing anymore?  Grandpa had a music room where he composed.  I don’t know if he did his paintings in there as well, or just his music.  I have all his music somewhere in a box that hasn’t been unpacked yet.  I always loved his music.  I have a number of his paintings as well, at least one of which is already hanging here at my new house. 

From when I was a child visiting my grandparents’ house, I can remember looking at the stars with my uncle out in the yard and him taking me on the water in his blue fiberglass boat; only time I’ve caught a shark.  I remember my aunt and cousins living in the next house up the road.  We had way too much fun as kids jumping ditches up and down the street.  Grandma would always fuss at us for that because of the snakes in the ditches.  We never got bit.  I remember the times my sister and I would spend the night at the red brick house on the bayou.  So many wonderful memories.  And all that’s left from that house is a brick. 

In 1969, Hurricane Camille devastated the Mississippi Coastal area.  At that time, it was one of the most intense hurricanes to make U.S. landfall.  It was a Category 5 storm. Camille brought 7 ½ feet of water into my grandparents’ home.  When the water receded and the sun came out, they cleaned and rebuilt.  As far as fixing the damage to their home, they left only the watermark in the detached laundry room as a reminder of how high the water had come.  Basically, their house was underwater except for the roof.  In 2005, when I finally got through on the phone to my grandparents after Katrina, I asked how it compared to Camille.  My grandfather told me Katrina made Camille look like an afternoon thunder storm. 

My first opportunity to go to Biloxi after Katrina was in early in 2007, for my grandfather’s funeral.  While there, I took my oldest boy and explored the area, giving him a glimpse into an early childhood chapter of my life.  We went by the old house on Beach Bayou Rd.  As we drove down to where the road disappears into the bayou, I couldn’t see the house.  It was gone.  Only the foundation and a few bricks that still made a small corner of the house remained.  I wanted to cry.  It was all gone.  Only the memories remain. 

I took a brick that day.  I still have it.  It just sits on a window sill in my bedroom at my new home.  It’s place at the condo I moved from was on the window sill in my bedroom there.  Before that, it was on the very top of a small wall unit in my now ex-wife’s house.  There’s no elaborate display for it.  No fancy case.  No markings as to where it came from or how it got here.  It’s just a brick.  But it’s all that’s left from some of my most cherished childhood memories.  It mostly stays out of sight, I barely notice it’s there.  Most days I don’t even think about it. 

Maybe our memories are like that brick.  Out of sight, out of mind.  Then once in a while we notice.  Something prompts us to take a walk down memory lane.  Hopefully good memories, but it can go both ways.  I hope your memories are like my brick, mostly good.  Thanks for enjoying my memories with me today.  Good day, God bless.

Dave