From sinner to saint

Recently Twomorrows Publishing had a big sale from which I bought several old issues of Alter Ego and Back Issue magazines.  These were from several years ago and relate to the comic book industry.  Within there are several interviews with or about comic creators and editors who have since died.  Reading the old articles some of these people were mean, arrogant SOBs who never failed to try to take credit for others work or disparage others achievements. 

But following their deaths an amazing thing happened: they have been sainted!  They are now looked back on with deep love and affection, even admiration.

Without getting into the names of the individuals (which serves no purpose other than create controversy), how does one go from scoundrel to hero just through the act of dying?  I don't buy it and I feel it is the height of hypocrisy.

When I was a program director in radio I worked with a sportscaster who was a backstabbing, arrogant jerk who left many damaged careers in his wake.  He died unexpectedly.  Many of those who most despised him rushed to praise him.   I couldn’t do it and I volunteered to remain at the station on the air during the funeral so everyone else could attend. The sales manager, who I rarely agreed with on company issues, also felt the way I did and stayed behind to man the front desk.  We just couldn't see pretending to respect a man who deserved no respect.

Am I wrong in feeling that these post-death transformations are hypocritical?  I am not saying people should attack the deceased, but at least don't ignore the truth.

Name game

I was named after my grandfather and my father. I am proud of that. I have a distinctive middle name, and a fairly common first name, William. But it is a name that has caused confusion for some people.

Though my name is William, the only people who called me that when I was young were teachers on the first day of school. They would then ask me if I went by William or Bill. And I told them I went by Bill. That is what my family and friends always called me. It is on my earliest writings and on old books that I received as gifts. It was the name I went by until my final year of high school.

So why did I no longer want to be called Bill? Well, to be blunt I always thought it was a very bland, boring name. Bill just creates no sparks for me. Yes, I know that people like Bill Cosby and Bill Clinton were very successful by using the name Bill. But to me, even as a young kid I thought it was not an exciting or memorable name.

So in high school I started to think about my future. I had decided I wanted to be a radio disc jockey and a writer. And I felt that the name Bill just didn't make it as a good name in either field. Plus William was way too formal. But I really liked the name Will. It was not very common as a nickname then. It was considered more of an “old west” or rural name. But it reminded me of several people who were highly respected in the fields that I wanted to pursue. Will Rogers was still famous as a beloved writer and performer from the first half of the century. He was thought to be one of the wittiest comics around (and he was good with a rope). And for my immediate plans two of the top disc jockeys in Salt Lake City at the time used the name Will on the air: Will Lucas and Will Wright. So I decided to start using the named Will rather than Bill.

I first used it when I was writing and editing for my high school newspaper. All my bylines were credited to Will Hansen. All my classmates still called me Bill, but I felt that I was beginning the switch. The real change began when I got my first radio job and called myself Will on the air and introduced myself to my co-workers as Will. In my professional life I was now Will. As I moved away from my hometown to work at radio stations, everyone at work and outside work knew me as Will. The only time I heard the name Bill was when a relative contacted me or I met someone I knew from my schooldays (very rarely). Over the years as I continued to work in radio and and all my written communication with my family was signed Will most of my family started to call me Will.

Through my years since radio until now I have always been known as Will. No one who has met me in the last 38 years calls me anything else. Which is how I like it.

There were (are) a few holdouts. My father until he passed away would go back and forth between Bill and Will. Fathers get that right. A few others seem to have difficulty with change, even change that took place almost four decades ago.

It is now a sure sign to me when someone calls me Bill on the phone it is someone who doesn't know me or is trying to sell me something. It is nice to have an early warning sign. I often get asked whether I prefer William or Bill. I have to tell them I prefer a third option, Will. It's a good strong name that has given me humorous material for years (“Fire at Will”, “Willpower”, “Where there's a Will, there's a way”etc.).

And it is what powers the Green Lantern's power ring. Let's see Bill do that.

The end of romance

I was always a romantic, even as a kid.  All my favorite songs on the radio had to do with love.  Sure it was bubble-gum, teenage, unrealistic love.  But that's what I liked.  I wasn't a fan of protest songs, deep-meaning songs, psychedelic songs, etc. I just liked love songs.  Even now I would say almost all of my favorite CDs and mp3s are about love.

So I grew up with the idea of love as being a wonderful goal: meet someone special, fall in love, get married, live happily ever after.  I know that for many people that isn't the way things turn out.  Sometimes ”the special one” turns out not to be “the special one”.  Sometimes feelings change over time.  Sometimes you have just made a bad choice.

But despite all that I was a romantic at heart.  I enjoyed buying little gifts for no reason.  I enjoyed spending a long time picking out the perfect Birthday, Christmas, Valentine's Day, or Anniversary gift.  I would write long poems expressing my love.  I have done this for years. 

I knew their favorite meal, their favorite flower, their favorite perfume.  I tried to help as much as I could to keep our home as nice as possible for them. 

When illness struck I was right there every minute.  During dark times I would try to sleep as little as possible so that nothing would happen while I slept.  Because you do that when you love someone. The numbers of hours I have spent in waiting rooms, emergency rooms, and visiting wards would be in the thousands.  And I don't regret one minute.  I would write little notes to try to cheer them up.  For over 40 years I have been in love with a “special” someone, and I still am.  I always will be.

But I am not a romantic anymore.

I was so busy being a foolish romantic for so long that I missed a lot of obvious things.  While I was buying romantic gifts for Valentines Day, if I received anything back it was usually of a “practical” nature.  A piece of furniture we needed, a tool they could use.  While I tried to find more things to do together as a couple, their interest was a nice bath followed by watching some TV, usually old reruns.

Though she has always been beautiful to me, when I would try to be romantic I was told I was overweight and that was a turn-off.  When I lost the weight I was told that they felt overweight and that was turn-off to them also.

But the romanticism remained.   I still wanted each day to be a little special for them.  A special treat from the kitchen, maybe some flowers from the yard.  But the reciprocal effort never happened. It didn't bother me, but I was surprised.

We had three wonderful children and they became the excuse to hold back the displays of affection.  I would walk up and give a big hug, only to get a gentle push away, because the kids were there.   Gift giving became about the kids, not each other.  I would still try to find the perfect gift for her while the gifts to me became an afterthought.  I could tell it was often a matter of they forgot and grabbed the first (or last) thing that they came to in the store.

I took her for special nights out, just the two of us.  We would go to dinner and then get a nice hotel room while the kids were babysat.  I quit doing that when each time she would say how she really appreciated the chance to get some sleep without the kids making any noise.  And promptly go to sleep.

She began to have serious mental issues following the birth of our children.  But that didn't change my love for her.  If anything it intensified it.  She was hurting and I wanted to do anything to make it better. She would say very hurtful things to me and the kids , but I blamed the illness. 

But then several years ago she started to say things that weren't due to her illness.  In an idle conversation with just my kids she said that the reason she married me was that her home-life was terrible and she would have done anything to get out of it.  Her father had left the family years before and her mother and siblings lived together.  At that time there wasn't any abuse going on or any other things that aren't typical of teen angst.  But telling my kids (not me) that the reason she married me was just to escape her mother's home hurt. They told me what she said. She never did.

But I hung in there; I guess believing that over the years she had developed the same deep feelings for me that I have for her. 

But then I also noticed that any time I had a health issue or got sick it became a competition to show that she was really sicker than I was.  Or even the kids.  Even when I had my pacemaker put in my daughter spent more time at the hospital than she did.

And the gifts for special occasions or holidays?  While I still looked for something that truly said how special she was to me, her gifts to me became even less so.  Finally for the last few years she told me to pick out my own gift because I was too hard to shop for.  I did that a couple of times, but then decided that that defeated the whole purpose of gift giving.

Then this year on our anniversary I got nothing from her.  She said that she looked on eBay but didn't see anything I would like.  Since she spends hours everyday on eBay buying stuff for herself I found that odd.  She also said that I should find something I want and get it.  Which I won't do anymore.  I would have even been happy with a gift card from a favorite store.  But no.  It is now two weeks later and no gift, no further mention of any gift.

But even then my romanticism still hung in there.  I still love her.  She still says she loves me, though it mostly sounds like an automatic response; the kind of thing you say as you hang up on a sibling or other relative.  No real thought behind it.

But I was hanging on to the last of that romanticism when today she excitedly told me that she sold something on eBay!  I asked what it was and she said it was her wedding ring.  I thought she was joking, but she said no.  She had put it on eBay and sold it.  And she was very happy to have sold it.

When she could tell I was upset that she would sell her wedding ring, she said that since she gained weight it didn’t fit anyway and she had other rings she could wear on her ring finger.

That is how much her wedding ring meant to her.  Just another thing to sell on eBay so she could buy more stuff.

I still love her.  I assume she still has some feelings for me.  She isn't mean or abusive to me.  But the romantic me is gone.  No more overly sweet love songs for me.

When I say not right now I might mean no

I believe in prayer. I have faith in its power. And I know that God works many miracles in my life. Some I have seen; many more I am unaware of. He has blessed me and answered my prayers in more ways then I could ever count.

But what if you pray and pray about something and it appears that you don't get an answer? I don't mean praying for something like money or a car (no matter how badly needed) but a prayer for guidance or direction. A prayer that asks if what you are doing is the right thing or asking that, if not, God letting you know that you need to change course.

How do you know if God is saying “no” or if He is saying “not right now”? In my own case I am praying to God to lead me to where I should look for work in my chosen profession. I am not asking Him to find me a job. I just need direction or encouragement to keep looking. But nothing is happening. I keep applying for the same few jobs with the same results. I don't make it past the application review. I understand that the economy couldn't be worse for someone entering a field that they have very limited experience in, but I still need to find that first job in the field.

But what if God is answering my prayers and is just saying “no”? Maybe in his great plan for me I am not meant to work in this field. I always end my prayers with the phrase ”above all else, Thy will be done”. It could be that I am trying to get a job that is not what God wants for me. So then He is answering my prayers, just not in the way I hoped He would. If so, I need to immediately rethink my career possibilities, taking into consideration my education and experience.

Or what if God's answer is “not right now”? I have a lot of responsibilities in my life right now. I am the sole transportation for several people to get to doctor's appointments and to and from school. I also am the back-up plan for some people to get to work. In addition, I also need to run the kind of errands that require me to go to offices or businesses during the daytime hours. In many cases only I can do this. And I also am still dealing with the occasional health issues of my own, such as my recent 3 day hospital stay. What if God is answering me by saying “not right now; you are needed more elsewhere”? I don't want to finally get a job in my chosen profession only to lose it because my outside responsibilities keep interfering with the job. That would make it even harder to get the next job. If this is God's answer then I should just stress less and keep job hunting but not feel like every rejection is another brick in the wall to a job.

So how do I know what God's answer is? I trust God; it is my own failure to understand His answer that is making me uncertain and worried. We are “okay” for now on money, but that is not going to last forever.

“God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform” William Cowper (1731-1800).

I just need a hint.

Bed restless

So I had to spend a few days in the hospital again. I had been having a recurring pain in my chest for several days. Nothing major, just a sharp pain that would then disappear. It was strong enough to make me gasp, but just as quickly it was gone. And there were no other symptoms. But finally I decided I better get it checked out, since I have a pacemaker that is not yet two years old.

So it was off to the emergency room. One thing about possible heart problems, you get jumped to the front of the line. Come on back! So they did blood work...inconclusive. So they took an EKG...inconclusive. So a little later they did a CT Scan. Again...inconclusive. Then the attending physician in the ER decided it would be best to admit me for further tests.

That is how I came to be admitted to the hospital while feeling fine other than an occasional sharp pain in my chest. I was there for about 3 days (2 nights). And I was bored. My family came to visit as much as I wanted, but they would end up appearing bored. I wanted to be about my life, but here I was stuck in the hospital. The nurses and doctors were almost all fine. The lab techs were all great. Orderlies, interns, support staff, everybody did their jobs well.

However, my first roommate was terrible. Any small thing set him off on a loud, profane rant. Day or night. But they finally discharged him (he wanted to stay) and I got a new roommate. He was fine. He was having breathing problems and spent most of the time asleep with an oxygen mask on.

They did several stress tests on me. Since everybody getting stress tests were heart patients there was no jumping the line. And I even had a PT Scan. Nothing to see, so might as well go home. I was glad to be discharged, though I still get that pain occasionally. But at least I know its not my heart.

When I was in the hospital a couple of years ago I was kept in the ICU the whole time. I never went to a private room. The day after my pacemaker was put in I was discharged. So this was my first experience with being a patient in a regular hospital bed. I didn't mind my first stay in the ICU. It was so busy there that I didn’t seem to get too bored. But feeling restless and being stuck with wires all over you in a bed for three days is not my cup of coffee (I hate tea).

Peace of their mind

Like most parents, I would love for my children to believe everything I believe, like everything I like, and validate and endorse all my infallible opinions and views.

Of course that doesn't happen. In matters of faith, one of my children is close to my beliefs. Close, but not identical. She is investigating many other faith systems; the old “compare and contrast”. My sons are both at the stage where they are deciding if any religion is correct if there is a God, and if there is what is our place in the universe and so on.

Politically, again my daughter is closest to my views. But on some social issues we are miles apart. My geopolitical views are, in some respects, anathema to her. One of my sons is interested in politics but seems to feel that both major parties are corrupt and too partisan to affect any real change in our governmental system. His views rang from moderate to liberal leaning to libertarian to socialistic (he has the Philosophy degree: no easy answers but many questions). My other son seems less interested in politics in general but what views he does hold seem to be more Libertarian that anything else.

Music tastes are all over the place. For the one that likes country another hates it. For the one that likes pop another thinks its boring. For the one that likes classic rock another finds anything recorded before 1999 to be too old-fashioned. And they like many things I find very little interest in; world music, alt rock, classical, metal, and so on.

But, my point is, (and I do have one), is that I am extremely proud of their opinions. I would be very disappointed if they had not come to these decisions on their own. They are all three brilliant, and refuse to accept anything just because they are told to. They challenge orthodoxy. They seek out answers to questions, refusing easy answers and looking behind facile points. Their opinions are their own. As they should be. A strong conviction is based on personal seeking and thought, in some cases deep soul searching. It is not something you can outsource.

We don't argue: we debate. “Because I say so!” is not allowed. You must justify your view. I am usually at a distinct disadvantage at this, as most of my beliefs were formed over decades, but that doesn't make them more valid than anyone else's. And even I, on occasion, change a long held opinion. Even old dogs...

So bless you kids. You make me proud to be your Dad.

However, Neil Diamond is one of the all-time greats! I'm not bending on this.

Worst substitute ever

When I was a teenager I envied my friends' jobs. This was before my illustrious career working at Dick's Bakery. The only jobs I could find were basically summer agricultural work: picking peas, picking cherries, bunching radishes, hauling hay. Nothing that was even cool to talk about. It paid a little but really was only for a few months in the summer.

My friend Joel had several cool jobs. While I was working at the bakery Joel had a job at a gas station. How cool was that? He also had a convertible (I had an old Fairlane 500). Before that though he had a job that I and my friends admired....he had a paper route.

Not only was it a paper route, it was for the afternoon paper, The Deseret News. So he didn't have to get up real early in the morning. He could do it after school. And he was good at it.

I used to ride my bike with him on his bike occasionally as he did his route. He knew which houses to deliver to, where they wanted their paper, and all the other stuff a good paperboy knows. He could make the throw just right. He almost never had a complaint from a subscriber. That was to change, unfortunately.

There came a time when Joel needed someone to substitute for him. For just a few days, as he wouldn't be able to do his route. I am assuming that our mutual friend Neil and everyone else Joel knew were unavailable. You know, people who were dependable and at least semi-skilled. So Joel asked me to fill in for him. I jumped at the chance. It was winter and I had no other options for ways to make money. And without money I couldn’t buy records or comics.

So I again accompanied Joel on his route several times, trying to pay attention to all the houses and the proper places to put the paper. Finally it was time for Joel to go and me to take over.

The first day I went it was snowing so I got my sister to drive me on the route. And I couldn't remember which houses got the paper and which didn't and I couldn’t see their street addresses in the snow. So I gave the newspaper to some houses that shouldn't have it and only some that should have it. I also couldn't remember where they were supposed to go, and my aim was way off when I tried to throw them on the porch, out of the snow. In a bush or into a snowbank was where many landed. And we ran out of papers before we ran out of route. Not good.

Fortunately for me, because of the snowstorm many people just assumed that their paper had been delivered like usual, but was under the snow in the driveway or on the sidewalk. So there very few complaints about non-delivery called in. The newspaper staff had my number to call if someone didn't get their paper, and only a couple of people called. I don't remember where I came up with the papers for them, but I did.

The next day was much nicer, as the snow had stopped and I was able to ride my bike on the route. The bad part is I remembered even fewer of the houses that were supposed to get a paper and where to deliver them. I again ran out of papers early, before completing the route, and went home. That's when the phone calls started pouring in. Since I had no more papers I had to go get the papers that I had delivered to the wrong addresses and take them to the correct houses. I again asked my sister to drive me on the route. I dug out the address list Joel had given me (and which I had carelessly ignored, preferring my great memory) and we went around hoping people had not taken in the papers that were wrongly given to them. Each time I saw a paper on the driveway of someone who wasn't on the list I had to jump out, grab the paper and run back to the car. It must have looked like a criminal endeavor. Then we would drive to one of the homes that had called in and give it to them. We finally finished about 7:30 that night, with many people still dissatisfied with their service.

The worst part is that I know Joel got the blame for my horrendous job. He was their paperboy and he had to go collect each month.

I was never asked to fill in for him again. Wise choice on his part. I eventually got a job washing pans at a grocery store bakery. That was much better suited to my talents.

To the subscribers of the Deseret News, I apologize. To my sister who had to drive me around for hours straightening out my mess, I apologize.

And Joel, I am very, very sorry to this day. Neil would have done a much better job.

Library 451

The library has always played an important part in my life. As far back as I can remember I loved going to the library. In elementary school some of the earliest books I read were Tintin books, followed by boys adventure novels.

When I was older I would occasionally go to the Bountiful Public Library, but it was on the other side of town and hard to get a ride to. So I frequented the Bookmobile. Every week I would wait for it and then go through every book looking for the gems that were hidden there. I remember reading every book by Fred Allen. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but it was in the humor section so that was fine.

After I got married one of the first things I always did after moving to a new town was go and get a library card. Though I couldn't afford to buy books, I could still indulge my large appetite for them at the library.

After our kids were born, when they turned five we would take them to the library to get their own card. It was a thrill for me to see them discover the joys of the library for themselves.

For over 20 years I and my family have visited the library on a regular, almost weekly schedule. I loved to browse the new books, check out the new music and films, and dig through the stacks for an older title that I had somehow overlooked.

Well, about six months ago our library closed for a short time for a remodel. They had closed before to rearrange the sections, so no big deal. But this time was different. When they reopened it wasn't the library that I had always loved. Instead the book sections had been vastly downsized and moved out of the way. Instead, a third of the library had been turned into the Teen Corner, where computers were available to browse the internet, large tables were in place to hang out and chat and drink a latte, and very few books were arranged.

The rest of the library wasn't much better. The new book section had been consolidated down to half the size it was before. Another bank of computers were set up for patrons to use to browse the internet. A vending machine had been installed to dispense DVDs. No more browsing to look for an older movie to enjoy, or to find a documentary that you weren’t aware existed. And speaking of vending machines, two were now in place as you enter to sell coffee and canned pop. The magazines had been expanded to twice the size as before, though most of the titles on the racks won't still be published in the next two years.

Our library had a history of being one of the most used libraries in the state of Washington. By used I mean people checking out books and other media. Not being used as a internet cafe or a substitute for the mall.

So this is what a library is now: no longer a place to find a book to help you write a paper for school (had to shrink the number of books down to make room), no longer a place of quietude where you could sit and spend an afternoon with a novel. It has lost its identity; its uniqueness.

I miss the library. Anyone know where a Bookmobile can be found?

Back

Six months is long enough.  I'm back.