A letter to younger Jim,

Ahh yes…writing to myself as a youngster.  So many good times, but yet, the main thing I want to do is grab you and shake you and say “cmon man! get in the game!” lol. More on that in a bit. But moving on. I remember you being pretty shy in your high school days. Not always. But painfully shy in some instances. On the basketball court or on the baseball field, you were as much in your element as you could have been. Outside of that, not so much. You weren’t crazy about getting called in in class, and I wish you didn’t worry so much about giving speeches that you almost made yourself sick thinking about. And if a girl liked you, that was a GOOD thing. Not something to avoid, young Jim. I remember you purposely avoiding girls that liked you in junior high, or even friends of this person. Because you didn’t want to deal with them asking “did you talk to Michelle?”. I remember you hoping that the teacher wouldn’t call on you in some classes. But in others, you were vocal. Why not all the classes young Jim? Well, now young Jim, at my  job, I actively seek to give my opinion on things during meetings. I have the confidence to state my case on things, even to people higher up on the chain than you. And guess what? I’m usually right. And guess what again? YOU probably were right and informed back then, younger Jim.  I often say “if i could relive my high school days knowing then what I know now, it could have been more fun”. Thats true too. Don’t get me wrong- I enjoyed what we did in high school. We had fun. But young Jim, coulda been so much more fun  Not just talking with girls, but classes would have gone better, been more fun.  I guess we just weren’t quite ready to take on the world quite yet back than, huh?

Things have improved through the years. Your confidence has picked up. You’ve taken a “what the hell” approach to things at times. The unknown has become less of a fear for you. Same w change. You have adapted to change more lately. You’ve tried new things. New experiences. You have come to the belief that you are as good as anyone. That you don’t need to defer to anyone. At times, you are realizing the silliness of being so shy back in the day. But also, because you are so much older and wiser now (wink,wink), you also realize that maybe if you were brimming with confidence, that maybe cautious and unassuming young Jim might have been replaced by cocky and confident Jim..and maybe some bad decisions may have been made, and maybe some trouble would have been gotten into. So all in all, no regrets. No point in wishing away things about days that have already transpired, right? I think we have come a long way and made a lot of improvements. We are still working on that eye contact thing. But hey- step by step right? I promise you young Jim, older Jim is gonna keep growing. We’ve done good

CLICK HERE TO WRITE ME BACK

This letter is to a very special someone who came into my life not long ago. I wish much longer ago, but hey, better late than never, right?
This person has had an unbelievable effect on me. It’s not just something that I recognize- my friends who I have known for 20,30, 40 some years recognized it too. Immediately.
I may have been someone who was in a rut..or a routine, to be more positive 🙂
I liked what I liked, I did what I liked, I was single. I could come and go as I pleased. The routine was very established, but it wasn’t something too bad, in my opinion.
But then I met this very special person. And everything changed. For the better. And I have always been someone who is generally resistant to change. But this change I welcomed with open arms.
She made me realize the silliness of saying “I don’t like that particular food”, even though the next sentence would be “I’ve never tried it”. She pushed me to get out of the comfort zone of my peaceful suburban existence, and to not just tolerate , then get accustomed to, but ultimately enjoying her more urban neighborhood. Even with all its challenges. Well, things I thought were challenges, but now are things I love. Like finding parking- anywhere- 😊, like being good at parallel parking instead of being afraid of it, sadly lol, like getting familiar with a whole other neighborhood besides my own. Like getting me to know that there are many, many things to do in life- that the status quo doesn’t have to be enough.
She made me realize that traveling is a GOOD thing, that experiencing new things is a GOOD thing. She taught me to believe in myself, to be more confident, to just kind of say “screw it!” and be more spontaneous, instead of always wanting to have a plan or overthink everything. She made me a better person. She gave me things to look forward to in life, not just do the things that are part of a rut/routine. She made me realize that it’s ok to talk to others- even a therapist- about things that are on my mind. That doing that is not a sign of weakness. But actually a sign of strength. She made me realize to not take things or especially people for granted. She pushed me. She supported me. She just made me a much better Jim Corrao. I could see it, anyone that knew me could see it. I never thought the old me was anything bad. Neither did my friends. But they saw the changes in me, and were very supportive and very excited for me. From easily visible things like new white Nike tennis shoes, new clothes, new style, and just a generally happier attitude. She truly and easily did all that. And changing me is not something truly or easily done. I will be forever grateful to this amazing dynamo of a woman. I look forward to seeing how else she can impact me. Can’t wait 🙂

To the world,

This is my story about perseverance, a perseverance I didn’t know I had in me. But as with many things in life, sometimes you find things out the hard way.

As I got older, and my parents got older, I knew that there would be a day when the roles would be reversed, and I’d be the one taking care of them. When my mom passed in 2004, I made a pact to myself that I’d never let my dad feel alone. 48 years with mom, I never wanted him feeling like he was by himself.

As dad got into his 80’s, things got tougher. For him of course. And for me. He developed Parkinson’s and dementia in his mid 80s. Simple things-things that we take for granted like speaking clearly, remembering what he had for lunch, sitting down from the toilet all became a challenge. Again, for him. And for me. My brother and sister had moved to California, so it was just us. We always said, “We’re a team.”

James with his dad.

The last few months of him living in his condo were very challenging for us. For me, it was gut wrenching to walk in every day and not be sure what kind of state he was in. Things we always enjoyed became less fun-like dinner, watching TV, talking sports. It became more of just trying to get to the end of the day-more survival than living. The idea that I could see my dad have Parkinson’s-induced hallucinations, and come to his condo or the nursing home and meet the paramedics after another fall and still be OK after is something I wasn’t sure of.  But all that happened. Several times. I know he was the one going through it all. But because I was with him every possible step of the way, I went through it too.  I’m proud of how much I cared for my dad. It is one thing I will never regret.

There is no manual for what to say to a parent when they see a cowboy on a blank TV screen, what to say when you say your dad “playing” some sort of card game or rolling dice while he’s in his wheelchair, to try not to be sad when his golf buddies would come visit and be sad because their friend wasn’t his 100% self. I persevered the years before that because if going to Kohl’s five times just to get a pair of pants that dad liked was necessary, then so be it. I persevered by learning how to have the same conversations every day, because it’s what Dad knew and was familiar with.  But mainly I persevered because I had to. For Dad. And because he taught me how to for all of his 89 years, up until the very end. I learned from the best how to persevere through the worst. The worst meaning seeing my strong dad be maybe not so strong.  And to try to keep a positive face as much as possible, even when watching my dad struggle was tearing me up inside. Years ago, I wouldn’t have thought I could see all these things and still be OK. He was my hero. My Little League coach. My buddy to yell at the TV during Browns and Cavs games with.  But again, I did it. Because he did it. And we were the best team ever. Right Dad?  “Right”.

Thanks Dad,