Lee Geiger

You can stand me up at the gates of Hell,

But I won’t back down

Tom Petty, “I Won’t Back Down.” (1989)

“I’ll have ketchup, mustard, cheese and onions,” says the rugged 60-year old, his deep tan synthesizing well with a silver-gray mane. “And throw on plenty of those jalapeno’s as well.”

Its Thursday, October 12, 2017 (a.k.a., yesterday), 12:17pm Pacific Daylight Time, and I am in Santa Rosa, CA, standing behind a table next to a hot dog cart. My boss, The Hot Dog Cart Lady, has assigned me the grueling duty of spooning condiments onto the dogs, with strict instructions to Taze anyone who tries to help themselves to the relish.

My curiosity gets the best of me. “How are you doing?” I ask the man. I feel a true bro-bond with this man, even though we’ve known each other for all of ten seconds.

“I’m still in a state of shock, actually. But I’m lucky to be alive…I’m lucky my family is alive.” He grabs his lunch and stares at it for a few seconds; for all I know he’s counting the jalapeños. “But we lost everything, “ he says, his deep blue eyes staring off into the distance. “Everything.”

Four days in, and the apololyptic wild fires blazing their way across Wine Country have registered an ominous tally, which is sure to go significantly higher in the days ahead: 29 dead, and over 3,000 homes lost, including the one belonging to the guy standing directly in front of me.

Hurricanes. Fires. Earthquakes. Floods. Is it me, or does the world seem a little off these days?

Last week, while getting ready for work, The Pretty Blonde asked me if I could adjust the hot water heater so she didn’t have to feel as though she was showering underneath Niagra Falls. As her designated Cabana Boy, I snapped to attention and told her I would merrily add it to my To-Do list. I’m only too happy to execute whatever chores she assigns, as it gives this retired Wall Street Executive No Longer Stuck in the Twilight of a Mediocre Career something productive to do. The week prior, I dutifully ordered a new water filter for our suddenly malfunctioning refrigerator. Imagine how difficult it would be to efficiently complete such tasks if I didn’t have an MBA from Dartmouth.

That being said, executing my daily To-Do list helps take my mind off the world’s current state of affairs, including but not limited to; impending nuclear annihilation ordered by the Weeble-in-Chief of a Jonestown cult masquerading as North Korea; the urban myth that is Congress; Biblical flooding in Houston; the virtual bikini waxing of the Caribbean; the latest in a horrifyingly ceaseless series of mass shootings that scream “Made in America;” and last but not least, the never ending onslaught of predictably unpredictable embarrassment du jours orchestrated by our illustrious Cheeto-in-Chief, who, despite being a billionaire and President of the United States, remains the most insecure moron walking the face of the earth. Or so I’ve heard.

But where there is darkness, we look for light. And you know what my key to happiness is in today’s world? Turning off.

Turning off my television. Turning off my computer. Turning off my phone.

Turning off me. I’ve discovered these past few months’ disparate ways to checkout.

I read a lot more books than I used to. I just finished “All The Light We Cannot See” by Anthony Doerr. The book won a Pulitzer Prize, which usually means its pretty good. It is. I spent at least an hour a day lost in the tormented worlds of Marie-Laure LeBlanc and Werner Pfennig. And we think we’re having some bad days.

I hike a lot more than I used to. Taxes are outrageous in California, but so is the scenery

I eat more ice cream than I used to. Ice cream always makes me smile.

I meet friends for lunch more than I used to. Two weeks ago, I met up with a former colleague from my days at Montgomery Securities at a quaint bistro in Benicia. She turned heads as we strolled thru the restaurant, just as she did when we worked together during the Internet Bubble. And she just turned 70. Sadly, her dream home in Sonoma just burned to the ground.

I hang out with my neighbors more than I used to. We’re in the process of formulating a monthly potluck parade called First Friday, which gives us an excuse to get sloppy on a regular basis. I love my neighbors, even the ones living next to me with the miniature white yapper who feels the need to bark at the wind. He’d bark for hours if I didn’t blast him off his furry white paws with the garden hose every so often. Man, does that feel good.

I make dinner more than I used to. Who knew that burning water while listening to enchanting instrumentals by George Winston could be so relaxing? Not only that, but stuffing The Pretty Blonde with the latest creation from Chef Boy R Lee is quickly becoming the best part of my day.

I relax with a drink at night more than I used to. I’ve downed enough Green Spot whiskey this summer to apply for Irish citizenship. My buddies say if I drink anymore I’ll have to change my name to O’Geiger.

I was there in 1968, considered by many historians to be the most turbulent year in American history, and I can still recall the cultural conflagration that nearly ripped America apart. Vietnam. Martin Luther King. Riots. Bobby Kennedy. More riots. Chicago. Nixon & Humphrey &Wallace, oh my. Those were rough old days, my friends, and many thought those days would never end. But they did, and so will these. But it won’t be easy. It will take copious amounts of courage mixed with a healthy dose of common sense, hopefully by men and women who are a whole lot smarter than me.

And lots and lots of kindness.

I thought about this while working out at the gym the other day. I passed a woman on some kind of torture device reading “Solving For Happy,” a book about creating and maintaining happiness, written by a top Google executive with an engineer’s training and fondness for thoroughly analyzing a problem. One of the book’s main themes is how volunteering to help others in need helps bring about happiness, how simple acts of kindness can make everyone feel better as they go thru their days. It’s called humanity, and it’s the way human beings are supposed to behave toward each other.

And that’s how I found myself standing behind a table of condiments handing out free hot dogs in Santa Rosa, California.

Courage. Common sense. Humanity. Life is too short not to live otherwise.

I’m just saying.