I must apologize to regular readers of my Blog.  I am profoundly sorry.  I owe you this apology for not posting anything since September 5, 2016.  These last 3 months, I confess, I was overly obsessed with the US Presidential election and overly despondent of the outcome. Today’s post won’t all be about politics. No, this is my yearly review.  I owe you one.

I started 2016 off strong with a post about my continued membership of the Rhythm Nation. Janet Jackson and the San Francisco 49ers inspired me to greatness as the 1980’s ended. Love trumped hate in 1989 and I wrote I still believed that.

My February rant was an admission I love to dance. I wrote about an incredible road trip with work colleagues who joined me in an after work night out on the town and loved and laughed at my funky gyrations like I was putting on a show just for them. It’s good to let off a little steam now and then and dancing is a tremendous stress relief.  Just ask my co-workers who saw my show.

In March, I was appalled with a suicide bomber’s killing of 60 innocent Christian men, women and mostly children celebrating Easter in a park in Lahore, Pakistan. I argued that the strategy of suicide bombers is flawed because their senseless murders don’t result in real change for their cause and only inflames their enemies. At some point, wouldn’t it make sense to change tactics? I guess to these people rational thought doesn’t cross their minds and perhaps never will.

At the end of April, I responded to a Daily Prompt e-mail by WordPress because I was flat-out of ideas to write about.  My words were all about how I didn’t feel “Stairway” was a good enough prompt and I begged my audience for innovative ideas to write about.  Only a few responded and I chose one idea.  A good one.

In May, I wrote about what it feels like to still be playing baseball at my age.  Not softball, baseball.  I dedicated my post to my friend Ronda who generously and genuinely wanted to know.  So, I told my baseball story.

On Father’s Day, I dedicated my writing to Oscar Boy, my then 14-month old Black Labrador Retriever.  I laid down some rules for him that, if only that damn canine of mine could read, would result in a better behaved domesticated animal.  I wrote about his predecessors, Mabel and Hazel, and shared how much better behaved they were and to model their behavior or risk getting cooked alive by me, Mommy Dog, and/or Grandma Dog.

I started leaning a little more to the left with my post in July about how I questioned when was it ever OK to be an asshole?  I wrote then that we had one running for President of the USA and his supporters were absolutely OK with that.  The criticism I had read about President Obama, our military, Hillary Clinton, and others was at such an unprecedented, disrespectful level, it seemed Trump-supporting Americans were becoming immune to disrespect.  Along with John Lennon, I imagined what living in peace would be like.

After my Fantasy (American) Football League draft and my grade of “A” I wrote in August about how great work would be if all I had to do was put a team together of the greatest players on the planet.  I wrote about how addicted I was to the fantasy game and how many teams I was participating in.  I thought then and still do now admire the so-called “experts” whose profession it is to recommend to Gamers like me the professional football players to add to their teams.  Talk about a dream job!

Which brings to my last entry.  For the first time in my life, on Labor Day of all days, I started to think about retirement.  It’s still probably ten years away but I spent the day writing and dreaming about what the next phase of my life would be like, where I would live, and what I would do.  It’s not a bad thing to get to this stage of life.  I’ve been super lucky and will put a game plan together.

In October, November, and December, I’ve gone through nearly all 7 stages of grief.  I stayed up until well past midnight on November 8th until CNN projected Donald Trump the winner of the US presidency.  Paralyzed at this news, I hardly slept that night.  I was in a fog for probably the next week.  I’m still not at the acceptance stage and probably never will be.  Not even after January 20, 2017.  Trump’s election had killed all my hopes, my dreams, and my creativity.  I couldn’t write.  I couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t believe my country had elected this buffoon.

So, there you have my year in review.  What did you think?   I feel like this year my writing improved and maybe there is something in that.  Fewer better.   Over the last 3 years, I’ve gone from writing weekly to bi-weekly to monthly blogs.  To me, one post a month feels about right.  What we both don’t know is what stories 2017 will bring.  It’s time to move on to the new year.  Trump’s no longer going to get me down.  It’s time to get writing.

Thank you for reading.