Life’s curveballs come at you from the oddest directions; almost never are they head-on.
For instance: I met my wife through a fantastic series of happenstance moments. It, in truth, started 2 years before I met her, when a buddy of mine who had the internet let me have a screen name on his AOL account. When I had a falling out with him, Kurtis (our perennially lazy newsboard guy) let me establish a replacement name on HIS AOL account. When I finally got my own computer with internet, I skipped AOL entirely, but I got an AIM account to keep in touch with my AOL/AIM friends. So, flash forward two years later, and a lonely guy on a weeknight is just chillin’ at home, up later then he should be, and up pops one of those mystery-user-is-sending-you-a-message-will-you-accept? boxes. Initially, I thought about saying no, because I was in something of a bad mood and didn’t feel much like conversing. Saying yes sent my life in a total curve: I met a wonderful girl, moved to Michigan, got married, and on Saturday morning, became the father of twin boys. All thanks to a seemingly unrelated chain of events.
Likewise, my best friend, Kurtis, came into my life in much the same loopy manner: at my first job, I befriended this girl, Melissa. Through Melissa, I met her boyfriend, who worked at the same mall I did, but in the food court instead of retail. A rift formed between Melissa and her boyfriend over their own issues, and I ended up siding with the boyfriend, and through him, I met Kurtis. The mutual friend ended up falling by the wayside, and Kurtis and I became the best of friends.
No curveball, however, could compare to the trifecta of them that have occurred in the course of my wife’s pregnancy and impending birth of my twin sons. The first was the pregnancy itself, which occurred after only two months of trying. The second was the fact of them being twins (and twin boys, no less). Now, if you’ve not visited IP’s lovely, iridescent forums, then you don’t know about my wife gave birth on April 8th, 2006, at 12.32 and 12.40am respectively, to Roland Layne and Leith Rylan.
But it is with Roland Layne that the final curveball of the pregnancy was thrown: a cleft lip & palate on Roland.
Originally, I had planned to juggle my duties as a columnist (both my gig with Neeley in our Cheap Seats column, and struggling through writer’s block to relaunch Re-Writing The Book) with the duties of a father. But the surprise of Roland’s affliction has thrown all plans for all facets of life into upheaval; vacations? On hold or cancelled. Frivolous or gratuitous spending? Can’t even consider it.
Writing, when it amounts to little more then a hobby? Too far down the list to register.
My time with IP has been nothing short of tremendous; starting on 411 with the throwaway idea for Re-Writing The Book, an idea I assumed would be condemned and ignored as mere fantasy booking, it instead took on a life of its own, and won respect from fans and colleagues alike (even as the writer’s block mounted and the ideas stalled, and for the constant delays, I do apologize). When I branched out to reviews of books and DVDs, I felt like I was doing the readers a service, especially with books, as book reviews of wrestling books BY WRESTLING FANS are not exactly found in Time or Reader’s Digest or People. And when Neeley came to me with the Cheap Seats idea, the chance to do an op-ed piece while putting my own spin on it was too strong a lure to resist. Any writer who doesn’t write for themselves is in the wrong business, because the urge to write is an urge to purge mentally, a call that cannot and will not be ignored … but, equally, any writer who says they can do without the praise is a f*cking liar; we all like a pat on the back and a “I COULDN’T STOP READING!” email now and again. So, to all you fans, and to the colleagues who gave pimps or direct words of praise and encouragement … well, words can’t express my gratitude. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
But, sadly, because of this curveball, I have to weigh the importance of many factors in life, and right now, Roland and his medical issues take center stage. To push the analogy past the breaking point, I have to turn his curveball into a home run, and I need total concentration to do it. So, for the indefinite future, I’ll be taking a leave of absence from Inside Pulse. No RTB (like I’ve gotten within sniffing distance of that in a year anyway), no Re-Viewings, no Cheap Seats. If time permits at some point, maybe I’ll drop in for a Roundtable at some big event, like Survivor Series or Bound For Glory, or as long as schedules with Roland’s surgery doesn’t conflict, maybe a review of the next Ring Of Honor Detroit show … maybe. Roland comes first, though, and with the likelihood of two operations before he crosses the 1-year mark, I don’t see the calendar opening up too much.
I do have a LiveJournal that you can pop in on and maybe make comments, if you’re interested in following the progress of the Shaffer Clan and our Adventures In Medicine: ye can find it here. We can use all the support we can find as we face this battle.
Once again, let me say it has been both a pleasure and an honor to entertain (or irritate, for my detractors) you over the past few years, and I thank you all for allowing me to do so, and letting me know I was hitting the mark. I look forward to a triumphant and invigorated return to Inside Pulse somewhere down the line.
