Bruce Goddard

December 30, 2012

s the old year fades in the rear view mirror, its time to look backward and forward, simultaneously. For me, 2012 was a milestone. Back in the dark ages -- in 1947 post-World War II America -- a new-born white male had an average life expectancy of 65 years. With surprisingly little effort, I reached that golden age in May. The Medicare card that arrived in lieu of birthday greetings was a reminder that Im no longer positioned to expect anything. I guess Im cool with that but, oh my, there sure is a lot I still want to do! When 2012 dawned, I set a simple goal for myself: To be healthy, active and in the game. To this I added a more complex objective: The reelection of President Barack Obama. And lo, both came to pass.

Think Globally
The presidential election season was unusually long and loud. As a body politic, we seem unable to hold a rational conversation, opting instead to shout old slogans from new, electronic barricades. This may (or may not) make for good theater, but it makes for lousy government. The corporate media and the bloggers, alike, tend to focus on small, often hostile arguments that serve mainly to reinforce existing views. This presents a threat to our future, which is going to require new thinking and dialogue. For me, the inanity of our electoral process was captured in 2012 by the great American political scientist and philosopher, Homer Simpson. After carefully considering his options among presidential candidates, Homer decided to cast his vote for Mitt Romney, because after all, he did invent Obamacare. One may laugh at Homer, but his is a more rational thought process than that offered by Faux News and others. When the dust settled, after billions of dollars were spent by the presidential campaigns and the Super Pacs, nothing changed. Despite the noise, the margin between the candidates, with Obama holding a narrow lead, never varied. Except for Indiana and North Carolina, every state in 2012 voted precisely as it had in 2008. On one hand, national polls portray a close election. But a glimpse behind the top-line numbers reveals an electoral landslide and demographic shift of epic proportion. The margins of the Presidents victory among women, Latinos, Asians, African Americans and young people were wide and across the board.

Obama handily carried every demographic group in the nation, with two exceptions old people and white people. Since Im both, I guess I ought to take that personally, but under the circumstances, Im pleased to stand with the next generation. The future belongs to the young, who turned out to vote in even higher numbers in 2012 than they did in 2008. As we used to sing back in the 60s, The Times They Are A-Changin. And now that were in our 60s, theyre changing, again. In that same song, we sang please get out of the new world if you cant lend a hand. Its still true today. The white, male establishment which has been less than exemplary in stewardship of our country and our planet for the past 50 years -- is dying off. With certain exceptions (see below, for example) thats a good thing!

Grieve Locally
Abruptly switching from the global to the personal, though, I was deeply affected by the deaths of two white men in 2012. The first was my younger brother, Bob, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in January and passed away in March, at age 62. His death was poignant, made more so by his estrangement from his family for well over a decade. At the end, he was consumed by the rapid decline in his health and other influences in his life; he left abruptly with no room for reconciliation or healing with his siblings. There was no story book ending here, alas. Ironically, over the years, Bobs estrangement had already brought our family closer together and taught us valuable lessons of humility and grace. We learned to set aside self-righteousness and focus on big things. We learned how to support each other; the relationship among the surviving siblings -- myself, brother Brian and sister Brenda -- has never been stronger or more meaningful. R.I.P., brother Bob. We share our grief for Bob in the words of Vince Gill, who wrote in memory of his own brother: I know your life on earth was troubled And only you could know the pain You weren't afraid to face the devil You were no stranger to the rain

he other death that had a big impact on me this year was the passing of my life-long friend, Mead Miller, 65, in November. We met in 1971, when we were cab drivers in Washington, DC, and though we only lived in the same town for four years, we were kindred spirits who remained friends for the next 41 years. Mead spent most of his life in Mobile, AL where he was a well-known man-about-town, a bar owner, city planning commissioner and writer mostly essays on the passing scene. His malady was esophageal cancer, which slowly claimed his body over a four-year period. He faced his inevitable downhill slide with remarkable courage, intellect and never-failing humor. The one upside to his long decline was that it left time for reflection and communication with his wide circle of friends. Our correspondence during his illness, right up to the last days of his life, is something I will always cherish. In what would prove to be his last communique, in October, for example, he noted that he had four doctors asking him what to do, and that he was far more concerned about hospital food than his own condition.

Mead had previously left assurances for his friends that he would get them past the Pearly Gates when their own time came, by telling St. Peter (whom he said he would know personally by then) that they were with the band! Ive never met a smarter, kinder, funnier fellow than Mead Pickens Miller; he was truly one of a kind. His passing leaves a hole in my heart and spirit.

Life Does Go On
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, or more precisely, at Woodland Estates, life continues. The two beautiful homes on former orchard land in San Leandro, purchased in 2011, are a Godsend. And a pretty darn nice place to live, too. This year was also a good year for travel. In June, I headed east to visit dear friends Pat and Vera at their historic country estate near Harpers Ferry, WV -- almost heaven, indeed. Then, I continued on to Annapolis MD where, to the amusement of the guests, I danced with my brother Brian at his wedding on a beautiful spring day on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. I made it to another beautiful spot this year, Lake Tahoe, for the annual tribal gathering sponsored by Brendas Garage and the K-999 Institute. Over a long Labor Day weekend, 21 friends, family, kids and dogs gathered at a magnificent Lake front home and had about as much fun as the law allows (and, in some cases, a little more!). Mia, the Amazing Wonder Dog, continued her wanderlust, too, accompanying me on a road trip through Las Vegas and Zion National Park two very different phenomena that exist just miles from one another. Our final destination was Orem, UT, where we celebrated Thanksgiving with our friends, the Long Beach State womens basketball team. In December, my alter ego, Sanity Claus, headed down to So Cal, to see the team for Christmas.

And the Beat Goes On, Too

With each passing day, the 4th Quarter Band becomes more important to me. After playing guitar for 50 years, Ive come to realize, if I keep practicing, that one day I might actually be good at it. Im starting to get there! This year, I performed at several clubs and discovered two fabulous song writers. The first, Tim Flannery, is a part-time (outstanding) musician who holds down a day job for 162 days a year as the 3rd base coach for the World Series champion San Francisco Giants. The other, Guy Clark, has been around since shortly after music was invented. Although I knew a few of his songs, I was not aware of his body of work until recently. He is a magnificent writer whose song, The Cape, fits me like a glove.

I continue to be blessed with good health and manageable girth, which allows me to do things other kids my age dont. For example, I played a lot of softball this year. In addition to the Saturday Softball game which has been a mainstay for decades, I joined an over-60 league, and also played as a fill-in player for an over-65 travelling team. Amazingly -- and theres no other word for it -- I also made it onto the football field and the basketball court this year! In addition to being the public address announcer for Laney College football, I served as the ball boy and chief punt-shagger for a kid who ended up getting a scholarship to the University of Oklahoma. And I continue my exploits with Long Beach State basketball, as a relentless rebounder in practice. Its all great fun, though my body does often remind me of my age! My thoughts on this are summed up in these words by my dear friend Mark Pearson: I am thankful to still know the feeling of flying Thankful for chances to dance at this age Speaking of age, this summer I welcomed a new tenant to Woodland Estates, the distinguished genealogist, Electra Kimble-Price, 86. To assuage any concerns I might have had about renting to an older person, she showed me a picture of her aunt, 107, who lives in Cincinnati. Shes my new role model!

Protges of John (Steinbeck) and Charley

As 2013 dawns, the road beckons once again. On New Years Day, Mia, the Amazing Wonder Dog, and I will embark on a round-trip expedition to Alabama, covering 10 states and some 5,000 miles. Mia, whose own age ranges from 64 to 88 years, depending on which theory of dog-aging you subscribe to, is one of the great, all-time travelers. Shes very adaptable, makes friends wherever she goes and is known at Motel 6s across the land. So, why not? Itll keep us out of trouble, if not off the streets. I do LUV to drive, and even though Mia no longer drives at night, when she does take the wheel, even just for a couple of hours, it feels like a 14 hour break for me! The southern route across the USA, roughly following the path of historic Route 66, calls . . . . .

Thankful
At years end, Im thankful for all I have, all Ive done and all I still want. Im grateful for the love of family and the friendships Ive made along the way. When my friend Mead was ill, he reflected on a poem by Hilliare Belloc that his own father, Dale, had loved. Its a timely reminder: From quiet homes and first beginning Out to the undiscovered ends There's nothing worth the wear of winning But laughter and the love of friends Happy New Year, 2013

Bruce