I got over eight hours sleep last night! It is good to be well rested. I started my San Francisco morning! at the Senior Center on 333 Turk having a cup of coffee (for the third day in a row). This Senior Center is really nice, and people are well treated here. I got my “Senior Center Card” today, so I am finally “an official member”. Being over 60 has its advantages, it seems. I use this Senior Center as a hangout before I go to the library, which opens at noon today.
Every single day I have been in San Francisco I grow to love this friendly city more.
I belong here for many reasons—> and I know this 4 a fact.
It is now 12:18 pm. I am set up in the San Francisco Public Library (SFPL) downstairs in order to begin my WordPress Blogging Day. I intend on developing this blog to the point that it is appropriate to Spread Around via Facebook, Google+, Twitter, and LinkedIn. (I try to get out at least one blog to America and the World a Day.)
Incidentally, I love my WordPress Website Development Job, despite the fact “it does not pay”.
There was a time in the early 90′s that I “majority owned” and ran my own manufacturing company, and I was making about $100,000 a year.
I make zero dollars a year from what I do now, and I am far happier and more content than I ever was in the early 90′s.
Job satisfaction is the difference.
My job has so much more meaning now than it did when I ran my own manufacturing company.
My father Arthur told me more than once—>
“Allen, I don’t care how much money you make running Darman Mfg., or how many towel cabinets (Cloth Roll Towel cabinets was Darman Mfg. Company’s primary product) that you sell. Son, I am disappointed in you. You had greater gifts to give the world. Darman Mfg. Company is essentially meaningless. Money is only paper. A pile of money is a pile of paper. You have the ability to do more, Allen. Someday you will find this out.”
Art, if there is a heaven, I know you are there and that you can hear me—>
“Father, you were right about Darman Manufacturing Company, and you were right about me. Thank You for telling me that I had more to give the world than Succeeding at Managing Darman Mfg. Company. Your telling me this made my decision in the summer of 1994 very easy to make.” (My decision in July 1994 was to give up the reins of Darman Mfg., and Go On a Quest to Find the Cure for Manic Depression, if such could be found.)
I had a Very Special Mother and Father.
Few are as blessed as I was in this regard.
A Related Blog, especially its Conclusion, which Cut and Paste has brought in here—>
The health of the human race, its survival, and the survival of the planet, is all that I ever really cared about. (The most notable exceptions here are my two beloved sons Willy and Max, of course.)
Fame don’t mean beans to me. Neither does money. (What good are fame and money going to do for me when I am dead?)
I define myself as “a humble little worker bee” for God—> the little piece of God in “all of us”. God Nature, as my father used to say.
Don’t thank me for any of this.
Thank God. Thank my son Willy. Thank my son Maxwell too.
Thank all of the authors of accurate Alternative Medical Books, one of which is Special.
Thank Helen, my best friend after Jimmy died. (He was my best friend before her.)
Thank all of the people that helped me in one way or another over the years, both family and friends.
And give A Very Special Thank You to my father and mother Arthur and Marion Darman.
Incidentally, Pinochle between the three of us was “an almost weekly event”. Over the years (and there were many of them), we played Pinochle for hundreds of hours against each other, my mother, my father, and I. All three of us were geniuses in multiple, albeit different, ways. By their admission–> I was the best single deck pinochle player of the bunch, even regularly besting my mother, who was a Life Master at bridge, and one of the best bridge players in the country.
Marion, your deep love for me saved me countless times in my life from age eleven (my bipolar onset) onward. I think of you every single day.
Said tongue in cheek to my father while my mother listens in between Pinochle hands (she is the dealer)—>
Art, I BLAME YOU! for this jam I have got myself in. It is all your fault! (laughing my ass off)
My father was A Very Special Man. Just ask anyone that really knew him. We will all say the same kind of things about him.
Art, I blame you because you drilled three things into me time, and time, and time again—> both when I was a child and a young man.
One was “Doctors spoon feed out knowledge a little at a time, and withhold the rest. They are NOT to be trusted at all.”
“Think. You have a Good Brain. Your Good Brain Will Pull You Out Of Any Jam You May Get Yourself Into—> If You Use It Wisely.”
And the last was…
“Money is nothing! It is only paper! A pile of money is only a pile of paper! Money is only a means to an end. It is worthless in and of itself.”
Art, on all counts you were right “in spades”.
How ironic! These three seeds of Truth my father taught me beginning in the sixties, during conversations around a round maple dining room table that my father himself had designed, toppled the Hoax of Pharmaceutical Medicine decades later.
The World owes a Very Special Thank you to my father Arthur Patrick Darman for sure.
I look forward to seeing Art and Marion in heaven when the time comes. We are going to play some Pinochle again! Hoorah!
I can’t wait to to tell them the story titled “They Messed With The Wrong Guy”—> laughing my ass off while I tell it.
It’s a story about the Stupidity of Big Pharma!
We are going to Die Laughing! my mother,my father, and I. Some of us might wet our pants-> or need to go the the bathroom in a real hurry! This story is So Funny! It’s an Absolute Scream!
My dearly beloved father Arthur died in 1996. He will forever reside in my heart.
My dearly beloved mother Marion passed away in 2005. She will forever reside in my heart too.
Two Somewhat Related Blogs to this one—>
This material was written by Allen D and prepared with critical help from—>
a WordPress Expert in Florida Named Mark J and
Heroic Help from our