Public Service Announcement
Graduation Day, June 1981. L to R: Mom, 22-year-old knucklehead, Dad
The flurry of correspondence among my former art school classmates is heating up. I just had nice convo with my ex-sorta boyfriend, who reminded me of stories and people I haven't thought of in 25 years. The brain is a funny thing; how can something so profoundly forgotten suddenly be accessed? Now, I'm starting to dream about art school.
A call went out for old photos, and I found the above. If I remember correctly, I had terrible problems in 1981: A "C" in Design II (or was it III?), a guy had dumped me, and I had a pimple on my chin. Not to trivialize the angst of youth, but I can't help but make a comparison to my current situation. I've just survived eight months of cancer treatment. And, I'd give anything to hug my Dad again.
This is where the public service announcement comes in. My father died of metastasized prostate cancer. We just recently lost a friend to the same, at the young age of 57. Gentlemen, please go and get a checkup and a PSA test. I know a lot of men put off getting an examination because it's unpleasant, but prostate cancer is very insidious. If it isn't detected early, it can easily spread to other organs. Remind yourself that you're doing it for everyone who loves you.
2 comments:
Wow, pops really had a finely tuned sense of fashion, didn't he. Like to think I inherited that from him.
Good advice for us fellas. Can never tell what else I might have inherited from dad--so I get tested.
bro
Try to be a color-blind man in the 70's, bro, and then you can criticize. It was difficult enough for people who *could* tell the difference between green and red to dress tastefully.
Glad you're taking good care of yourself. That was not one of dad's strongpoints.
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