The Best Of Times, The Worst Of Times

 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

 (Cape Cod Times)

  I have a pretty good life. I live in a beach house on Cape Cod. I've made out well in teaching, counseling, and real estate. You're looking at what I do for "work." I have a healthy family, a happy dog, a bunch of fun friends and a whole sorta-dysfunctional-yet-fun online entourage that both astounds and amazes. I love being me.

   Sure, bad stuff happens to me. I stopped growing at 5 feet high. I've been rat-soup broke, with no parents and a kid brother/sister to feed. I wrecked a Jeep once. I've lost jobs when I couldn't afford to lose them. I had a dog get hit by a car, and I've been hit by a car myself (not that hard, and it didn't hurt that much).

   I'm also very accident prone, to the point where I have a medical history (broke the same leg twice, broke an arm,  a finger and a thumb, sprained both ankles, had a concussion, went through a complicated pregnancy, went through a window, and fell off a seawall) that would shame a lot of pro wrestlers and Navy SEALs.

   Thing usually work themselves out. The baby was fine, the bones healed, I got a new car, and falling off the seawall is when I met my husband for the first time. I'm fairly resilient, and I try to keep a positive attitude about most stuff.

  Still, some things don't work themselves out... and you end up taking a few lumps. I've had my fill of that, but I'm a small timer compared to this girl Kathy that I used to play soccer with in high school.

   Kathy didn't stop moving up at 5 feet.. she turned out just fine, as most of the male race was concerned. She was better at soccer than me, had richer parents, drove a BMW, never needed glasses or braces, and rarely threw up on guys at carnivals. While she had no fault in my concussion, she did assist on the goal that happened after everybody else was staring at me laying pole-axed on the grass.

   Even though she was better at tennis than me, the coach played her at second singles- leaving me to get slaughtered by the better first singles from Massachusetts tennis factories like Scituate, Hingham, Milton, Sharon, etc... this is sort of like eating dessert before finishing your vegetables, if you were playing Duxbury High during my time there.

   She ended up playing college tennis in Florida, while I went and had some Yeti-girl break my leg while playing hoop at the state college that I was lucky to be able to afford to go to. I actually like Kathy, and we still trade cards and emails to this day... she just seemed to catch every break, except when legs and arms were concerned.

   As you might imagine, she married well, and was living in the same neighborhood as Alonzo Mourning when the story takes that left turn onto Sudden Change Boulevard that you probably should have seen coming if you've read this far.

   Most of us- Kathy and I included- take things like walking to the store for granted. This is easily forgiven, as people really aren't kidnapped by the Southern Florida Liberation Front while doing so that often... although it does happen from time to time, and- for once- the dice had come up snake eyes for Kathy the Tennis Pro.

   To make a long story short, they brainwashed her (after months of starving, electro-shock therapy, exposure to cold, amateur dental surgery, mock executions, etc...) into serving the dark purposes of the SFLF. While the deeper aims of the group escape me, their gig involved a Cuban War and the relocation of Disney World to the Pearl Of The Antilles.

   During a botched Mafia-funded attempt to kill Castro with an exploding CIA cigar, Kathy was forced to leap into the unforgiving ocean off of Cuba's north shore. She lost both of her arms to sharks, and her left leg was essentially amputated by machine gun fire as she made her way to the getaway boat.

   Surgery saved her life, but she was left with only one limb. She now lives at a small retreat for crippled freedom fighters that is partially funded by former Rage Against The Machine  frontman Zack De La Rocha.

   To earn her keep there, she puts on a flipper, dives into a muddy Alabama river, and catches catfish with her mouth. To say that she swims like a fish is both an apt and cruel metaphor.

   I try to fly down every Christmas, to see that her needs are being met. We even trade emails, although Kathy has to hold a stick in her mouth to peck words out on her keyboard... this takes awhile, and I just today got her 2004 Christmas Card. I leave a little money for her, and the nurses tell me that my visits are the only time she ever smiles.

   There's not much you can do for Kathy- she's pretty much effed. If you want to do some good this holiday season, check out my peeps at Toys For Tots. Even if you're just some broke kid, you shouldn't watch Christmas go by without getting some sort of treat. I won't nag anyone for donations... but if you decide to spread some holiday cheer, give T4T a look.