The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

LIFE ITSELF

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https://youtu.be/VsjkWMBWpEo

It’s the last scene from the movie and it’s packed with wisdom, emotion and lots of life lessons
. . .ALL WHICH MEAN NOTHING
unless they are not so much
SEEN
HEARD
or even EXPERIENCED
so much as intimately and intentionally
A P P L I E D
(c o n t i n u o u s l y)
The quick synopsis
will tell you the
movie is about
College sweethearts Will and Abby who fall in love, get married and prepare to bring their first child into the world. As their story unfolds in New York, fate links them to a group of people in Seville, Spain, including a troubled young woman, a man and his granddaughter, a wealthy landowner and a plantation manager.
and yes,
EVEN US. . .
It’s more than about
Love and Loss
Grief
Relationships
Winning and Losing
Coming’s and Going’s
so much as how
we are more
i n t e r c o n n e c t e d
than we
realize
recognize
acknowledge
but ever proving
IT’S NOT SO MUCH AS SMALL WORLD
AS A BIG LIVING ROOM
and my thread
or your thread
are a part of the of the a
T A P E S T R Y
we each belong. . .
WE ARE CHAPTERS
in the Book
that just doesn’t merely tell our Story
but allows it to be experienced
by those
not yet here
sharing that
LIFE ITSELF
is the only
ALL
there is and ever
will be. . .

G I F T E D

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WHO DOESN’T LIKE BEING GIFTED. . .
especially when it’s unexpected
. . .it’s like getting a two sunrises in the same morning
a gift within the gift. . .

There are some gifts that are just too big to ever be wrapped; there are some gifts that when received, never have to be opened or unwrapped because they’re that much a part of you already. 

Do you have such a gift?  

Have you given such a gift?

Kelly, a good friend of mine recently suffered the death of her mom a few months ago and because it was quite suddenly, it’s a different kind of grief that she’s had to be bearing and wearing on herself. Living in Arizona and dealing with the fallout of her mother’s death back here in Ohio has put an added burden upon her, and yet, in many ways has helped her deal with grief in a much different and a much deeper way than she could’ve never had in any other way. 

Is grief that gift that’s too big it can’t find wrapping?  

If grief is a gift at all, it’s one we usually don’t want to accept or certainly give, and never have to be on the receiving end of. But then again, grief is a great reminder of what it is, that’s on a cellular level, very much a part of us; even more real than the words you’re reading, or the actual breath you just took without noticing (again). 

Kelly has come back and packed up her moms house and gave away most of her mothers possessions to friends and other family that she thought might appreciate those gifts the most. She’s donated the rest to the Salvation Army so that those that never knew her mother still may be beneficiaries of the gifts that have been left behind and now forwarded. 

I am the recipient of one of those gifts.
It was a picture that hung in her mothers ‘s dining room. 

I never met Kelly’s mom, but I sure have known Kelly for long enough to know that some of the things that have made Kelly, well Kelly, are literally impossible without her mother. DNA and genetics for sure guarantee that, but then there’s that gift that can’t be wrapped only given and received that truly makes us who we are and more, ever becoming MORE OF.  . .

Grief is a terrible thing to ever have to experience. We often don’t recognize it and we don’t volunteer for it, but at its best and deepest, it is the truest reflection of the love that we have and only really deepens and expands and never vanishes. THAT’S GRIEF. Not the tears. Not the ‘how comes’. Not the ‘why’s’ or the ‘what for’s’. The grief that often brings the saltiest tears, those tears never exist nor does the sense of loss, that deep sadness ever, unless there’s a love much deeper than all those things put together that even make those tears even possible. 

So what’s your gift?  

What is it, that someone will pass on to another, perhaps you’ve never even met before, that might benefit from the fact that you even existed?  What is the I T in you that’s so big, you can never wrap, but once given, never has to be. . . ?

SEE THAT
BE THAT
FREE THAT
So that Others
can be beneficiaries of your
N O W
 and not so much your
T H E N

FRIEND

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OUR FRIEND tells the inspiring and extraordinary true story of the Teague family—journalist Matt (Casey Affleck), his vibrant wife Nicole (Dakota Johnson) and their two young daughters—and how their lives are upended by Nicole’s heartbreaking diagnosis of terminal cancer. As Matt’s responsibilities as caretaker and parent become increasingly overwhelming, the couple’s best friend Dane Faucheux (Jason Segel) offers to come and help out. As Dane puts his life on hold to stay with his friends, the impact of this life altering decision proves greater and more profound than anyone could have imagined. . .

S H O C K E R!!!!
 I love the
gots-to-have-a-box-of-tissues-to-watch-this-movie
Kind of movies
but the ones that require the most tissues

are the ones who remind me
not who I could be,
b u t
WHO I COULD BE MORE OF
(KIND OF LIKE)


Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:
The best kind of a movie based on a true story is the
THE ONE YOU’RE STILL MAKING. . .

QUIET ON THE SET.
READY.
ACTION.  
CUT.
THAT’S A (ongoing) WRAP

It’s time to be WHO YOU ARE for another,
not who you were
or who you’re going to be
but just simply,
beautifully who you are:
A FRIEND

A Caring Catalyst

Better than JUST A Cookie

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When is a chocolate chip cookie more than a cookie or better yet when is a chocolate chip cookie not one?

Like a lot of funerals that I have done, I never had a chance to meet Margaret; I didn’t know her. I never shook her hand, heard the sound of her voice or listened to stories she could’ve shared about her family and friends. But one of the things that her family shared about her was the love that she had for all of them and she showed it most of the time in her cooking and especially in her baking. A lot of times, her baking was literally for JUST BECAUSE reasons without a birthday or an anniversary or some special occasion. Margaret would just make cookies and and then made sure they were delivered. She could never do them anonymously because her’s tasted better than any other cookie than any other family member could make or share. It was one of the things that family member after family member talked about doing her celebration of life services.

A chocolate chip cookie is at its best when it ISN’T. A few weeks after the celebration of her life I was asked if I could conduct her graveside services after she had been cremated and out-of-town family could  attend. Even though it was early April it felt like mid summer at 82° on a Saturday afternoon. 

I’ve conducted a lot of graveside services where people will pull out the Jack Daniels or the Jagermeister do to a final shot and they’ll toast or light up to celebrate the person and their memory. Uhhhhh, not Margaret’s family, No, they broke open up case of her chocolate chip cookies that had been frozen and now baked by family. After we talked about how her life continues to be celebrated and goes on in each and everyone of them, they took to heart most awesomely what I told him the few weeks prior: “Take Margaret’s best and make it a part of yourself because just by doing that one thing, Margaret not only remains with them, but they instantly become a much better person.

So, in good Margaret fashion, they passed out cookies and made sure that I actually got a carton of them to take on my way. 

When does a chocolate chip cookie not become a chocolate chip cookie?  When love takes a memory and bakes it; and then even more powerfully and intentionally when love takes that very memory and not only bakes it, but shares it. It simultaneously  brought an Ohhhhhhhhh to a Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

There are just some things mouths can’t taste but only experience. This batch of chocolate chip cookies did both. 

The best chocolate chip cookie isn’t made or baked or even eaten; it’s the one that’s shared; and with that one act of love~~it’s the one that’s experienced and not merely digested.

HARD BALL

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Hardball is a 2001 American dramedy film
directed by Brian Robbins.
It stars Keanu Reeves, Diane Lane and D. B. Sweeney.
The screenplay by John Gatins is based on the book
Hardball: A Season in the Projects by Daniel Coyle
I was reminded of it
PAINFULLY
again
this past week with the shootings in Colorado
and even at one of my favorite eateries,
MY FRIENDS on W 117th and Detroit. . .
The movie literally is 20 years old
and most people probably wouldn’t even of thought Keanu Reeves
ever staring in this movie. . .
But those who saw
said it might’ve been his best role.  . .

Why?  Mostly because of the funeral clip that you just witnessed
after his young unsuspected star
was gunned down in crossfire. . .

And just what was so powerful about that clip. . . ?

Simply the power of a life,
a small wave
that became a tsunami
and literally caused a tidal wave
in all the other lives that small
powerful Ripple
havoced on the shores
it touched
and forever changed geographical landscapes.  . .

Do you have that power in you?
 Has the wave long lost its umph and its impact?  

Check your pulse. . .
If you still have one
no matter how powerfully strong
or so seemingly significantly weak
it’s still tsunami causing.  . .

You still have the power
to change the geographical landscapes
of every shore your wave hits. . .
Don’t waste a drop
. . .or a second

Make sure you live your Eulogy
before you become it.  . .

SEASONS OF LOVE

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525600 minutes, 525600 moments so dear, 525600 minutes, how do you measure, measure a year? in daylights, in sunsets? In midnights or cups of coffee? In inches? In miles? In laughter or strife? In 525600 minutes? How do you measure a year in the life? How about love How about love How about love Measure in love Seasons of love Seasons of love 525600 minutes, 525600 journeys to plan. 525600 minutes. How do you measure the life of a woman or man? In truths that she learned or in times that he cried. In bridges he burned, or the way that she died. It’s time now to sing out tho’ the story never ends. Let’s celebrate. Remember a year in the life of friends. Remember the love. Remember the love. Measure, Measure the love. Seasons of love, seasons of love

It’s a rear view mirror no one wants to look
or even give a quick glance
as we recall this past year
365 days
525600 minutes
315360000 s e c o n d s
I’ve loved the play
R E N T
ever since it’s come out
and have seen it already a half a dozen times
and won’t tell you
how many times
I’ve watched the movie
or just listened endlessly to the
Soundtrack
but this is the song
especially this past year
that’s kept boomeranging back to me
at different times
when I’ve searched for my
p l a c e (s)
in an ever unfurling
NEW NORMAL

Where we’ve searched
tried to find
how we can be all things to all people
while trying to figure out who we are
T O D A Y

YOUR TAKEAWAY
over these past
525600 minutes. . .
Seriously
in these shake-up-the-snow-globe-world
we’re living in
have you measured these
525600 moments
in daylights, in sunsets,
in midnights or cups of coffee,
in inches, in miles,
in laughter or strife
or LOVE. . .
Here’s hoping they continue to be measured
in Love
(The Only Season that Matters)

(NEVER) Just A Dog

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MY DOG SKIP
is a great movie about a boy and his dog. . .
It’s mostly a story about award winning writer, Willie Morris and his dog
GROWING UP. . .

Our dog, Mollie died this past Thursday without much warning or notice and it’s like watching and re-watching a gut wrenching movie or at least their worst tear-jerking scenes on an endless loop. . .

She’s been ever present for nearly the last 14 years of our lives bringing all of the things we say our dogs, our pets bring so abundantly and even more, so unconditionally.

I’ve heard it said that grief is love that doesn’t have a place to go. None of us likes grieving; none of us likes what it makes us feel or do because it usually means that we’ve lost the greatest loss of all: Somebody or Something that we’ve loved deeply, intimately and if we’re lucky, unconditionally, too.

I often wax poetically at a funeral when I say there is no grief, there is no hurt, no sense of loss, no pain; never any tears unless there’s a love much deeper than all those things put together that even made the grief possible. . . That’s a gift, and to be sure, it can’t be ordered from Amazon; you don’t wanna wrap that up and put it under Christmas tree or make sure you save it for a special anniversary or birthday or give merely as a JUST BECAUSE… and yet it is a gift, the best kind of all, isn’t it?

Molly of nearly 14 years is the pet among the so many cats, gecko’s, rat, and another dog we ever had the longest. We talked about the day when she would no longer be with us because of some here and there health issues but you can never fully prepare for IT; being a hospice chaplain since 1994 has taught me that along with some of the close family members and friends who have died. Still, it’s ripped our hearts out without a scalpel or at least a very dull one. 

No, she just wasn’t a dog so much more than that; fully accepting, unconditionally loving and always couldn’t wait to greet you and anybody else that came in to her presence. She was a rescue dog; our son found her at a party one night. She was in a milk crate and and maybe not so much abused as neglected. He complained to the owner, “You can’t keep a dog like that and if you won’t let her out, I’ll take her.” The owner said he didn’t really want her, to go ahead and take her. When he brought her home he never told us at first; she was down in the basement and of course we heard her and went down to check out the situation. He convicted me. Used my words. “Dad, you always told me when you were in a bad situation you can’t leave until you make it better not worse. I couldn’t leave her that way.” She was emaciated, cowering, afraid and always wanted to be in your presence; never wanted to be left alone. And for that reason she never needed a leash, no matter where we’d be in the yard or walking down the street she would always be right there with us, never running away, never leaving.

She would be the first to greet you when your car pulled into the driveway or when you walked into the back door and we would often think after a long day or a tiring week the Peace was her laying in between us as I would sit on a chair and Erin on the couch. Part of that peace was that Love; it was as if she couldn’t rest each night at the side of her our bed unless she was sure you knew it, experienced it. 

FALLING IN LOVE IS LIKE OWNING A DOG
First of all, it’s a big responsibility,
especially in a city like New York.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you’re walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain’t no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.

Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.

Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.

Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Sometimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose,
not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know Don’t you ever do that again!

Sometimes love just wants to go out for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise. It will run you around the block
and leave you panting, breathless. Pull you in different directions
at once, or wind itself around and around you
until you’re all wound up and you cannot move.

But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.

Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.

Taylor Mali

Mali. Taylor. “How Falling in Love is like Owning a Dog.” What Learning Leaves. Write Bloody Books.

I don’t know what your idea of Heaven is; I’ve come to believe from so many people’s experiences or expectations that whatever they think it is, IT IS. Maybe we all be instantly in the presence of loved ones or those that have gone before us. Me? I believe instantaneously I’ll be in the presence of the One who created me, those I’ve loved and have been loved by and. . .I kind of think I’ll know I’m in heaven when I see her running down the street (THAT STREET) like she did so many times when she’d meet us coming backing from an errand or a walk; so excited to see me, tail wagging, yelping in joy, barking as I hug others because she wants hugged and attention, too; welcoming me home, HOME, and not so much expecting, well, what might’ve brought her so much as what she can’t wait to give me. . but what they can’t wait to give me. . .Hmmmmmmmmmm, yeah, HEAVEN!

In the meantime, we are comforted by the kindnesses of our family, friends and the neighbood kids who adopted her as their own and companion us in carrying our grief and love. . .

No, there won’t be any be a memorial service; no celebration of life ceremony–they’ll be ongoing countless ones; each being more special than the last one but all of them being ongoing for our ever’s. . .

Last Summer, Erin found this rock down at the Lake and immediately brought it home and with little effort made it look like Molly. We didn’t know then what we feel now; but we assuredly know the only thing that’s stronger more enduring than Rock, is LOVE. . .May rich Peace she brought to us and so many now be that profound Peace she’ll enjoy for an ever more as she crosses the Rainbow Bridge but never out of our hearts. . .Our greatest takeaway: if Molly, never Just A Dog, can show Compassion, Empathy, Kindness, Care, Acceptance, Unconditional Love, what about Mutts like us?

SPEAK I would tell her and she would with tail wagging like an airplane propellor making you soar higher than you expected. I never told her to HEAL I never had to; it’s what she just did (repeatedly)

SEEING with your Ears

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I love words. . .
I love reading them
I love writing them
I love listening to them
I love transcending them. . .
These words
This poem from
Phyllis Cole-Dai
seems to illu8strate each of these things. . .

A good Monday morning blog. . . ?
Wait. . What. . . ?
Were you expecting the usual Monday Morning Video Blog post. . . ?
I have never offered you a chance
JUST TO LISTEN
to words
. . .to maybe close your eyes
and just listen to
some nicely arranged words
that paint only colors you can see
on the blank canvas of your mind
. . . close your eyes
make your own video
as you hear Phyllis Cole-Dai’s poem
that came to her in a dream right before the pandemic hit. . .
As you hear words
v i s i o n
Somebody
that this might include
that has is dying
has died
but never been lost from you. . .
May her very words
Become Flesh
that massages the forehead
of your grieving
troubled mind
as it intertwines its fingers in between yours
as they never let go
but now feels so very empty just the same. . .
May it put a beat in your heart
that’s not only everlasting
but ever present
ever easing
(assuring)

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. . .
q u i e t
see with your ears

(Phyllis’s original thought was to release the book on Memorial Day last year, but the pandemic accelerated her plans. She made the book available solely through her website, so that she could sign every copy that was ordered, and give people the opportunity to request a personalized inscription if they so wished. 

When she lost her own father recently to COVID-19, Phyllis would receive, among the many messages and gestures of condolence, solidarity and care, a copy of her own poem — coming to her once again, she notes, “from the outside– as it did in my dream.”

In her words, “You may choose to share it during a memorial service or other farewell gathering. Save it as a keepsake, attaching photographs, jotting down memories and reflections. Offer it as a gift of compassion. However you choose to use it, may it bring you consolation.”)

BOO-HOO

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T I S S U E. . . ?

boo-hoo

verb

  bü-ˈhü  , ˈbü-ˌhü \variants:  or boohooor less commonly boo hooboo-hooed or boohooed; boo-hooing or boohooing

Definition of boo-hoo

intransitive verb: to weep loudly and with sobs … even the impeccable Lord Jeffrey, editor of the Edinburgh Review, confessed to having cried—blubbered, boohooed, snuffled, and sighed—over the death of Little Nell in The Old Curiosity Shop.— Tom WolfeJoey kept boo-hooing like a real idiot.— Christopher Paul Curtis—often used as an interjection especially in mocking imitation of another’s tears, complaints, unhappiness, etc.Before she finished her question, one twin and then the other began to cry. “Boohoo, boohoo,” Ernie mocked. “I’m not staying with crybabies.”— Nancy Smiler LevinsonHe said as long as I was being so pure, why not give her the real scoop on her old man? I said because it would crush her. Boo hoo, he said.— George Saunders

Other Words from boo-hoo

boo-hooor boohoonoun, plural boo-hoos or boohoos … the tough Garden crowd reacted with boos instead of boo-hoos. — Richard Johnsonboo-hooingor boohooingnoun “Woman: cease this detestable boohooing instantly; or else seek the shelter of some other place of worship.” — George Bernard Shaw No one feels good after being dumped. The loudest boo-hooing seems to be coming from young people … — Jane Bryant Quinn

Uhhhhhh. . .Maybe this is a better graphic definition of
BOO-HOO-ING. . .
what Ben Rothlisberger and all of Steeler Nation

did this past Sunday night when the Cleveland Browns,
decimated with COVID19 breakouts and injuries
severely upset the Steelers. . .
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the Pain
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the Shame
until very early Monday Morning
right after I got to the inpatient hospice unit
where a patient had just died
moments before I encountered his son
in the hallway. . .

My tears were still wet and and now cold and still too salty for any kind of good flavoring from the hours earlier beat down of my favorite team
natural because I was born in bred less than 30 minutes
from Heinz Field
I know, I know, BOO-HOO
The Browns not only beat but embarrassed and eliminated the Steelers on this God-forsaken Sunday night. . .
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh the pain of the grief;
the shame. . .
No matter which way you spin it, it doesn’t make a difference. . .
until the difference
makes all the difference
in a world that values even a smidgen of CARE;
A little after 7:30 on this Monday morning I met a son who’s dad just died just moments before I arrived. And as I was expressing my condolences and letting him know a little bit about how we’re still going to be there for him, because his dad was our patient, but he, his mom and his sister were our concern right now.
He said, “You know what was special for me?” He swallowed hard and tears set on the edge of the BROWNS Face mask he had pulled high up on his nose. “What was special for me is that my dad and I got to watch one of the greatest Browns football games ever; that we had a moment that nobody can ever take away from us.” He wiped his eyes as he paused and then continued, “And they not only one the first playoff game in decades, but they beat the Freaking Pittsburgh Steelers in Pittsburgh. Man, what a great night.”
And as we talked about all the dark clouds that have forever seemed to overshadow the city of Cleveland; The Curse and The Fumble, The Drive, he said that this made up for everything.
Erin always tells me (usually when the Steelers get beat) “IT’S JUST A GAME!” and I always tell her
until it isn’t. . .
as I go sulking away into the dark night of my soul. . .
B U T
 In that encounter
At that Moment
I had with that man
(who’s name I never knew)
who was now crying in front of me
not because his dad had just died
or because he was grieving his father
and not because he had just had a moment
and not just a special moment
but the defining moment
of his and his dad‘s life
not the end of his life
but really
the continuing of both of their lives
interwoven together with the golden thread
of that one single moment
and that he was a part of that
and he didn’t miss it
and how sacredly hallowed it was. . .
I guess some tears are more salty than others

Some tears are just to warm and wet
to be soaked up in the best of towels
In fact
there are some tears
that literally inspire other tears
that are way less salty, too. . .
The only thing that makes a moment better
than the moment
is sharing it with somebody
so they can have
a some kind of a moment, too 
and for this humble Caring Catalyst
I’m more of a grateful
recipient
than a
deflated fan

BOO-HOO
. . .I think not

FINAL JEOPARDY

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He’s one of the few people in the World
where his picture says his name
and his name brings his
L I K E N E S S
to mind
WHO IS
ALEX TREBEK
When he died this past Sunday
the accolades began pouring in
from all of the major news sources
and so many
fans
friends
former contestants. . .
Alex Trebek, whose 36-year run as the host of Jeopardy!cemented him as a legend among television hosts, died on Nov. 8, 2020 at the age of 80—more than a year after he was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer.

“Jeopardy! is saddened to share that Alex Trebek passed away peacefully at home early this morning, surrounded by family and friends,” per a statement from the show. “Thank you, Alex.”

Alex, who hosted the famed quiz show since its revival in 1984, announced in March 2019 that he’d received the diagnosis in a video to fans, and acknowledged the low survival rates of the disease. The five-year survival rate for pancreatic cancer is 10%, according to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network.

One year after revealing his diagnosis, Trebek shared an update on his health in another video to fans posted in March 2020.

“The one-year survival rate for Stage 4 pancreatic cancer is 18%,” he said. “I’m very happy to report I’ve just reached that marker.” 

Trebek’s update came after he said in September 2019 that he was undergoing chemotherapy again after a setback in his recovery. Fighting cancer for a full year took a toll, Trebek said, and put on him a physical and mental burden.

“There were some good days, but a lot of not-so-good days. I joked with friends that the cancer won’t kill me, the chemo treatments will,” he said. Giving up, however, would have been a “betrayal” of his wife, other cancer patients and Trebek’s faith in God, he said.

A staple of American TV, the husband and father of two children was known to legions of fans who tuned in each day to watch him stoically give clues to Jeopardy! contestants vying for their shot.

Born in Sudbury, Ontario, in 1940, Trebek attended the University of Ottawa and graduated with a degree in philosophy in 1961. He had an early interest in television, and worked at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) while still in college. His hosting career took off in the early 1960s with the CBC, where Trebek served as both newscaster and sportscaster. By 1973, having exhausted most of the opportunities available in Canada, Trebek arrived in the U.S. to host the game show The Wizard of Odds—an opportunity he long credited to the actor Alan Thicke, who tapped Trebek for the spot.Double Dare host Alex Trebek, in 1976. 

About 10 years after that, Trebek’s chance to be a true TV personality came up: Jeopardy!. The show, which had its own tricky history, came back in 1984 with Trebek as its host after previous iterations of the game show had been cancelled twice before. 

These days, Jeopardy! is appointment viewing. But Trebek, in his early days on the show, had to convince viewers to watch. Jeopardy!faced “absurd” time slots, CNN reported on the show’s 50th anniversary, and some local stations pulled the show altogether. Producers at one point pressured Trebek to dumb down the questions to make the game easier on contestants. It took significant fine-tuning for Trebek to make the show into his own. Jeopardy host Alex Trebek in 1984. 

As Jeopardy! host, Trebek became more than a man who read out questions and offered, in his patient tone, the correct answers when none of the contestants could get to them on time. Jeopardy! became a cultural phenomenon, and Trebek with it—showing up on hit shows from The Simpsons to Seinfeld. And Will Ferrell playing a mustachioed Trebek battling with Darrell Hammond’s Sean Connery has been etched in the memory of Saturday Night Live fans. Jeopardy!itself made its own news: In 2019, the contestant James Holzhauer won $2.4 million, and falling just short of the previous record holder, Ken Jennings, who shot to fame when he won 74 games in a row and earned more than $2.5 million, in 2004.

Of being the host of Jeopardy!, Trebek told New York magazine in 2018 that he approached the role by stepping out of the spotlight. 

“You have to set your ego aside,” he said. “The stars of the show are the contestants and the game itself. That’s why I’ve always insisted that I be introduced as the host and not the star.” 

Trebek exemplified the qualities that make for a solid Jeopardy! host with a wry sense of humor and a tone of voice that shifted ever-so-slightly to signal to contestants his disappointment or when they bungled an answer or joy, when they got something right. This was on purpose, he said. 

 In the year before his death, Trebek appeared to be at peace with his fate. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he told CTV News in October 2019. “I’ve lived a good life, a full life, and I’m nearing the end of that life…if it happens, why should I be afraid of that?”Alex went on to say, “I realize that there is an end in sight for me, just as there is for everyone else…when I do pass on, one thing they will not say at my funeral is, ‘Oh, he was taken from us too soon.’” 

QUITE A FINAL JEOPARDY,
h u h. . . ?

T H I S
I was on my walk
THAT SUNDAY AFTERNOON
when I got this news. . .
I literally stopped in mid step
in the middle of
T H I S
and when I looked up
I saw Nature’s Confetti
the sky was full of
swirling
gently
FALLING
l e a v e s

which brought me to
T H I S
The Blue backdrop sky
Drops Back
confettied leaves
that float ever so delicately
as they whisper
without rushed wind
I AM STILL HERE
I AM STILL
I AM
I
until they collect painlessly
with a colorful desegregated congregation
on the gracious
ever accepting
comforting padded
earth

to be held
not so much
for an ever
as but for a mere Season
that’ll have them all
r e s u r r e c t e d
into a Spring
back onto a naked limb
that sprouts them
to begin anew
all over
for an endless
again. . .

FINAL JEOPARDY
We’ve been born
with a sexually transmitted disease
that’s terminal
L I F E
which has the overly simple Math of
1 out of 1 of us
dying
(to live)
. . .so that those who love us
can be grateful they invested
THAT LOVE
for the tears
for the grief
for the sadness
for the sense of loss
which the
THAT LOVE
made possible
and has us ultimately uttering
THANK YOU
and not
good-bye

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man