Soap Bubbles

Suddenly, my Facebook feed is awash in commercial posts/advertisements offering (for a fee) advice and support for people with lung cancer. I suspect I recently must have opened a random post about lung cancer. That would have led Facebook‘s sophisticated algorithms to determine I am a candidate sucker, who’s willing to part with my money in return for a misguided hope that whatever the advertiser is selling will wipe away my cancer. I understand how people—even people who are not easily misled—can be manipulated by fear to grasp at straws. I loathe people whose lust for money is so consuming that it overcomes any shred of human decency they might once have had.

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Finally, after months and months of trying to justify my inexcusable delays, I gathered and organized the materials necessary to complete my 2023 Federal and State tax returns. The process took very little time, inasmuch as I maintain files for that purpose throughout the year. Yet it is easy to procrastinate, even when the only identifiable product of my procrastination is anxiety. The ease with which one can get an extension from the April 15 (plus or minus) deadline to mid-October is partly to blame; why NOT put it off, when getting an extension is so easy? My next step is to deliver my tax materials to an accountant for filing—I cheerfully pay someone else to argue with the IRS on my behalf in the event any part of my tax return is challenged. I cannot imagine, though, any legitimate reason for a challenge.

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When I look in the mirror these days, I see a bald man. Despite what some men without hair might tell you, bald-headed men do not automatically look sexy. In order to look sexy, I am pretty sure their facial features, their skin tones, and the rest of their bodies must pair well with their cranial shininess. The rest of us have an exaggerated appreciation for hats and caps, though at some point we just say “screw it” and ignore the fact that our naked heads do not seem to match our bodies. I have a growing appreciation for women who, having lost some or all of their hair, opt to avoid trying to hide the tops of their heads. My late wife, whose scalp never fully recovered from her chemo-induced alopecia, did not completely embrace the fact that her post-cancer hair was extremely thin—but after the initial shock, she did not try to hide it. Her attitude was, I think, “it is what it is.” Whether that is simple resignation or bravery or courage, I have enormous respect for that perspective. I think women have a much tougher time with alopecia than do men, thanks to societal attitudes. Because baldness is so much more common among men than women, the experience is much less traumatic for men. That’s the way I see it, at any rate.

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I remember blowing soap bubbles as a kid. Thinking of that this morning makes me want to do it again.