The Two Gospel Writers Who Were Not Apostles

Questioning What We Assume

The search for knowledge must never cease, but more critically, we must question the assumptions we once held as true without ever examining them, until new information challenges a viewpoint we never thought was in dispute.

Last night, I found myself at the end of an interesting discovery. Although I know a great deal about the Bible, in theory, by osmosis, through tradition, and sometimes through an application that makes the reality of God and the salvation of Jesus Christ the most heartwarming experience of my faith, I remain just as ignorant of some fundamentals.

The Twelve Apostles

¹³ At daybreak he called together all of his disciples and chose twelve of them to be apostles. Here are their names:

¹⁴ Simon (whom he named Peter),
Andrew (Peter’s brother),
James,
John,
Philip,
Bartholomew,

¹⁵ Matthew,
Thomas,
James (son of Alphaeus),
Simon (who was called the zealot),

¹⁶ Judas (son of James),
Judas Iscariot (who later betrayed him).
[Luke 6:13-16, reference Matthew 10:1-4]

There are four gospels of the Lord Jesus Christ, attributed to the named authors in the Bible and traditionally accepted to have been written in the order of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John, between AD 66 and 110. Luke also wrote the Acts of the Apostles. [Wikipedia: Life of Jesus]

An Overlooked Detail

What I never bothered to check, and what you, the reader, might already know, is that Mark and Luke are not in the list of apostles. They were not apostles at all. Luke was known as the physician who travelled with Paul the Apostle, and Mark is mentioned too. [Colossians 4:14, Philemon 23-24]

This is not an exposition of the facts, which have been dealt with extensively and with a scholarly and academic expertise I cannot expect to match. The theological debates belong elsewhere.

A Discovery Worth Sharing

This is, however, a note in my journal and an introduction to a YouTube channel I discovered a few months ago, Deep Made Simple. Its short videos, which deal with topical elements in the scriptures, have brought me insight and enlightenment I cannot keep to myself. The video "The Gospel of Luke: Why a Doctor Wrote the Bible’s Longest Book " had me scrambling for information.

The shock, the realisation, the quest for more knowledge: the small hours of the morning crept upon me as I listened to the video again before playing back the dramatised New Living Translation of the gospel. [Google Play: NLT Bible with Audio]

Luke could have been a gentile, and he was indeed a journalist, a correspondent, and a meticulous historian.

One last thing, I was on YouTube that I learnt to recall the Ten Commandments by counting fingers and hand signals, in 5 minutes.

Note: All Biblical references are taken from the Bible Gateway.

Luke's Place in Scripture

The Gospel according to Luke is not the longest book in the Bible; by English word count, that distinction belongs to the book of the prophet Jeremiah.

However, the gospel is the longest book in the New Testament, and taken together with the Acts of the Apostles, Luke would have contributed more to the standard Bible, in English word count, than any writer except Moses.

Patterns of Truth: Why Are Mark and Luke Not Named as Disciples?

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

The Three Musketeers running errands blind

The Three Shopping Musketeers

The amusing appearance of the three musketeers, or so it seemed, as these three men were sent on errands by their spouses to shop at an ethnic grocery and foodstuffs store. They wheeled the trolley with the dexterity of a Formula 1 driver, but the filling of it resembled the discombobulation of three blind mice on the run after their tails were cut.

For one, they appeared entirely out of their depth, clearly in alien territory and unsure of what they needed to get. They were constantly on the phone with someone, trying to describe items to ascertain the right thing to put in the basket.

If that task were not hard enough, the banter between them at the butcher's counter, where they attempted to display their knowledge of meats, revealed more about their dilettantism than any genuine expertise.

Lost in the Aisles

I engaged them, asking why their wives were not doing the shopping and whether they were aware of the measures, weights, packaging or containers for whatever they were getting. They were lost in aisle after aisle, perambulating without the focus of a shopper with intent. If the trolley had an odometer, the mileage counter would have had someone asking if they had been to Timbuktu and back.

There they were, in full recognition of their helplessness, yet the most important thing they could have done is what deserts men when they need it most: ask a question, get clarification, seek understanding, all of which does not suggest stupidity but curiosity.

In this, The Three Musketeers had brought to light the loyalty of their friendship, the bravery of doing something outside their abilities, the camaraderie of men lost in a store, and the swashbuckling adventure with a trolley now delirious from whirling around the aisles.

All for One

Maybe I should have offered to help if they had betrayed the slightest vulnerability, but bravado was on display without any sign of winning, and I found much mirth at their expense. It would have been impolite to insert myself because they were perfectly representing the “All for one, and one for all” motto of The Three Musketeers.

As I was leaving the store, I intimated that it would be closing in 30 minutes and they had better hurry up, or they would be pulling down the shutters with nothing to show for their, what's the word now? Excursion!

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Thought Picnic: Getting inspiration from within

Look inside, not up

Writing is an art of spontaneity, one for which I have not planned much before I begin to type. As Laurence Sterne wrote in The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, “I begin with writing the first sentence, and trusting to Almighty God for the second.”

Somewhere between the ceiling and heaven, I might look for inspiration, then I realise God lives in me. As with prayers, a Christian need not look to the hills from whence cometh the help of the Psalmist in the Old Testament (Psalm 121:1) when Jesus said, “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me” (John 15:4).

We so easily forget the nearness of the divine already dwelling in us. Rather than using our inner ears and spirituality to listen and hear from the inexhaustible well of inspiration of the Holy Spirit, we look outward for a sign somewhere apart from us.

Just so connected

This is a blessing of connection that we miss because we do not tune in to the frequency of the spiritual radio that God has placed in us. Instead, we look to seemingly unintelligible and indecipherable data from extraterrestrial life forms of which we have barely any concept.

I can attest to the many times when the best ideas, insight, and inspiration have come from the quiet of meditation rather than from someone else. Sometimes, I step into the shower befuddled and step out enlightened.

Elsewhere in the Bible, we read, “For ‘who has known the mind of the LORD that he may instruct Him?’ But we have the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16). We have the mind of Christ, the Anointed One and His Anointing. That is just mind-blowing, a truth that has long escaped us, abandoned to the traditional hymn that suggests, “God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.” [Hymnal.net E675]

Use God’s library

Indeed, God is omnipotent and omniscient, and every wonder the hymn avers is an attribute of the divine. However, God is not hiding Himself from us, no, not at all.

Rather, He has made the library of His knowledge and wisdom available to us, indwelling our beings and giving us the Holy Spirit to teach us the truth, provide us with understanding, and guide us in all the vicissitudes of life. We are the most equipped for success in life, and we are totally oblivious to that gift.

From the basic things, such as beginning to write the first sentence, to the life-changing decisions of extreme consequence, we have the best resource that the universe has to offer. We can develop the ability to tap this resource by knowing we have it and affirming it from the Word of God, The Bible; His how-to manual.

Nobel Laureates and Limitations: The Perils of Unearned Omniscience

All accounts balanced

James Watson, who died at the age of 97 on November 6, 2025, was a DNA pioneer who won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 1962 jointly with Francis Crick and Maurice Wilkins at the age of 34.

When I received news of his death, I remembered that I might have written something about him. That was back in 2007, when, during a book launch, he veered from the science of genetics to the pseudoscience of eugenics by suggesting that intelligence could be genetically differentiated by race.

There was swift retribution for that aired opinion: a suspension followed by a resignation. The controversy became the benchmark by which Dr Watson was judged, rather than on his more significant work with DNA.

Intelligent monkey talk

I had also forgotten that in writing my first blog in October 2007, I recounted a story of someone suggesting I was a monkey and how I was blessed with the wit to respond, not out of offence, but with a willingness to engage. If I were a monkey, I would have become so intelligent that I could communicate with human beings; alternatively, my interlocutor would have acquired the ability to cavort with simians.

An apology followed, of course, but the damage had been done. Way back in innocent 2007, Dr Watson was cancelled, ostracised, and consigned to a scrapheap of ignominy. His groundbreaking work in discovering the double helix structure of DNA at the age of 25 and subsequently winning the Nobel Prize was overshadowed by controversy. His eugenics remarks created a dual legacy of brilliant scientist versus reprehensible public intellectual.

Dr Craig Venter, known for leading one of the first draft sequences of the human genome, had this to say at that time: "Skin colour as a surrogate for race is a social concept, not a scientific one. There is no basis in scientific fact or in the human genetic code for the notion that skin colour will be predictive of intelligence."

The folly of universal expertise

The Nobel Prize is a high accolade, but it does not confer polymath status on the recipient. Upon being named, laureates do not suddenly become omniscient or experts in every imaginable field outside the sphere of their expertise. They should also possess the self-awareness and presence of mind to dismiss questions that seek their opinions on issues beyond where they have been accorded due recognition.

Contrasting Dr Watson with Dr Arthur Kornberg, who won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 1959, for his work on RNA & DNA, and died around the same time as the 2007 controversy, one sees that Dr Watson could have learnt how to carry oneself and manage one's opinions when conferred with the Nobel Prize. There should be a resounding memento mori in the ears of a Nobel laureate, for in the mortality of man lies the enduring power of memory.

Though he paid a heavy price for his indiscretion, the work he accomplished was worthy of celebration and commendation. May his soul rest in peace.

References

Blog - Doctor Neutralises Africans [October 2007]

Blog - Happy Retirement, Dr Watson [October 2007]

Blog - Arthur Kornberg - DNA Pioneer, dies [October 2007]

Men's things - XX

Insist and be insistent

Some encounters with the medical establishment can be unbelievably sublime and others exhibit inertia and obduracy, you might find pulling teeth a greater pleasure to enjoy. Here I was trying to get a sick note that I was told was easily obtainable and assured would be ready on Monday only to meet with a bureaucratic reluctance to fulfil what clearly everyone concerned knows is needed.

As with these things, I insisted against their prevarication, eventually someone cottoned on the idea that I was here for new excuses or postponements, something had to be done and so they sought out a late shift doctor and somehow found a stache of ‘Statement of Fitness for Work’ forms to be annotated and initialled by the doctor.

Their first attempt was clumsy, signing me totally off activities and the hospital stamp was upside-down. My reaction brought a reconsideration, and they did it properly with the caveats I wanted. It was an easy enough job with the will and opportunity to do it, hardly an encumbrance, this is a hospital, for crying out loud.

Just that spike is all you need

As I was chatting to a doctor, I also felt I could ask about the last two blood tests conducted a fortnight before my first radiotherapy session, my glimpse of the blood form indicated both the Prostate-antigen specific (PSA) and testosterone levels. I could not find the results anywhere as they were not communicated to my GP.

My PSA had fallen to within normal levels and testosterone was reading levels on the low side of the normal range. There must have been some other indicators in earlier blood tests to suggest I did not need hormone therapy before radiotherapy as testosterone has never been in the cachet of tests I have done before.

If I had not unilaterally pursued the need to recalibrate readings from my blood tests in February towards remediation by intervention, we would never have been on this track to discover prostate cancer and it might have been seething and growing undercover, but for that spike in my PSA in March that forced an investigation.

Do the graft on your bloodwork

It is no doubt incumbent that anyone with a modicum of literacy must take immediate interest and seek to understand what the results of blood tests are whether they fall in the normal ranges for your demographic and where they do not, ask questions and be unrelenting until this is explained in the simplest of terms. Err towards interventionism than otherwise, cancer is not something you wait and see grow like a wild weed in your body.

Demand answers and seek a second or even third opinion, speak with experts and learn all you can to be sure you are getting the best treatment towards the most beneficial outcomes. If you must go private and have the means to do so, do not count the cost and end up paying a costlier price.

The goal is the best outcomes

It took 7 months to get from my first request for a blood test to where the prostate cancer is being effectively treated with radiotherapy. I will cover in more detail sometime in the future, why I opted for radical radiotherapy over a radical prostatectomy. It was about the post-treatment quality of life more than anything else.

If anything, and for about 15 years, I have learnt and understood that your biggest advocate for the best outcomes when engaging the medical community is you, your voice, your initiative, your instigation, and your relentlessness. You are the centre of your diagnostic, prognostic, and therapeutic options. Remember, it is always your body first before it is their Guinea pig, that premise is non-negotiable.

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Men's things - XVII

Satisfying a curiosity

Today, I began a new journey that started just over six months ago with my desire to find out why a blood reading presented suspicions of anaemia that I was determined to track down and resolve. As I was at the doctor’s surgery to get blood drawn, at my insistence, they added another vial to check my Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) reading, it came back borderline normal.

The next visit 7 weeks later to check if the anaemic condition had been addressed included a second PSA test and this time, it was above the normal range and this has set us on the course of the discovery and consequently, the treatment of prostate cancer.

A computer tomography experience

I attended the hospital for a radiotherapy planning Computer Tomography (CT) scan the night before encumbered with insomnia even though I never felt anxiety nor concern and then to a morning that presented no bowel movement, much as I tried and a bladder that barely yielded to the urge for emptying.

I am even more fascinated by all the non-intrusive methods of looking inside the human body before doing anything. I have had the full complement over years and decades of, X-rays of teeth and chest, ultrasound of liver and kidneys, Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) of the spine and the prostate, and now, a CT scan of the pelvis targeting the prostate.

The CT machine presented a hard flatbed to lie on and its activity was just beeps and whirls, with me being passed in and out of the doughnut ring several times before I was tattooed with ink on two sides and in the middle just a few inches below my navel.

Zap the cancer to oblivion

After this, I had some blood taken for testosterone levels and another PSA test, just over 5 months after the last one along with a scheduling form for the radiotherapy sessions to begin in two weeks for 20 days. The times for the first 5 days had been scheduled.

To put it all in a nutshell and deal with that nut of cancer in the shell of the prostate, we are at the point where it is simply:

• Where is the prostate?
• We are coming to zap the cancer to oblivion and there’s no playing games with you.

Apart from the usually comforting conversation with Brian on my way to the hospital and after my appointment, I had already surmised I could not rely on my friend who had offered to accompany me. I guess he has more issues than the Vogue magazine. It is well.

I have had enough lone encounters with the medical establishment receiving interesting news; I do not consider any of them bad even if for some, such news has not only been life-threatening but also led to their deaths. I am blessed and fortunate to still be here to have new experiences, new testimonies, and the continued joy of living. This will pass.

Helping with research

After I got home, a researcher from the hospital called, they had missed me when I attended my consultation to ask if I would participate in some cancer research which could go on for more than two years. I had no issue with that, I informed the researcher, that the course of treatment I chose was informed by others participating in earlier cancer research, showing outcomes and other resulting benefits. I would not have that compendium of knowledge to access if they all had refused to engage.

When it comes to cancer today, we all benefit from the body of knowledge acquired over centuries of progress and advancement, those who died and those who survived, are contributors to the human experience of cancer and the medical expertise that treats it, I am grateful for everything that has brought us this far and will eventually lead to better ways of treating or even totally avoiding cancer altogether.

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Driving confidence

Driving ahead

They say a horse can sense the fear and nervousness of a rider in the saddle, as I am not a horse rider, I hope the first time I do mount a horse, it will feel that beyond my being a learner, I intend to have a really good time exuding confidence that I am being borne with dignity to the extent that the horse would contribute to the experience.

I found myself observing an interesting stance on the control of the automobile. Interestingly, I do not drive, and I cannot drive because of issues with my eyesight reduced by no conception of stereo vision, I have a lazy eye making judging distance and speed of approach quite difficult.

Bosom driving

A lady literally had her chest on the steering wheel, and that was not because of her ‘Dolly Parton’ assets, she had leaned so far forward, her forearms had no clearance as her hands gripped the top of the steering wheel, every so intently, I could sense the apparent lack of confidence in her driving.

It was like her exercise of caution had become a dangerous safety issue if at any time she needed to execute an emergency manoeuvre. Even a non-driver could see it. I would hate to be a passenger in her car.

Then think of those holding the steering wheel at arm’s length, leant back with both hands on the wheel, probably not monarchs of the road but not shy either.

Driving with Mrs

A husband and wife in the car and relaxed driving, both arms dropped down and the steering wheel lightly held at the bottom. They are probably on a leisurely day out.

Then thinking of the man with an arm on the side window and a finger hooking the side of the steering wheel, the other hand on his lap, maybe his head is bopping to the sound of the loud music in his car. That's self-confidence bordering on the supercilious.

My mother started driving in the 60s, though she cannot drive anymore due to sight degeneration. She was always confident and assertive, even on one instance in the mid-1970s, after she was overtaken by a bus driver, he popped his head out of his window to look as if in disbelief that it was a woman driving and driving so well too.

The driving kings

Yet, the kings of the road are not the fast car aficionados who have taken their middle-life crisis to the Ferrari or Lamborghini without having kept trim that they are forklifted into the car, and they have to crawl out on hands and knees, the indignity, it was a widely shared video on social media.

They are in fact, the truck and coach drivers who through use and practice with their fully aware responsibility of human or goods cargo have with practice and experience mastered both vehicle and route, their steering wheels quite like plates angled slightly over their laps and the manoeuvrability that would leave you amazed.

They are confident and effortlessly so.

Driving from the back seat

But I must end with the backseat drivers of which my father is a prime example and from whom I have acquired so much driving theory, I could well be a professor of theoretical driving. In his professional years in senior management, he had company cars that came with his role, and to the company cars were assigned drivers.

One such driver had before been a truck driver and had the penchant for slightly overshooting a turning before turning in as one would when driving a truck or heavy goods vehicle with the length that defines them, this is far different from the shorter length of a 4-door sedan car, and even from being absorbed in the morning newspaper, the Chief Accountant would thunder from behind, the alert for a driving admonition to the driver began with what essentially was his mannerism, “Look!”

Yes, “Look!”, was the equivalent of Jesus’ statements that began with ‘Verily, verily,’ in the King James Version of the Bible, it was the notification to prick your ears for an incoming pearl of driving wisdom. Whilst sitting in the front passenger’s seat, it was there that I learnt, you do not need to put your foot on the brakes to slow down on a motorway, if you have a lot of stopping distance, just shift your gears downward and enjoy the science of automobile engineering.

I have resisted every urge to be a backseat driver where partners like Steven in the 1990s and Brian presently are concerned, they are very good drivers though and I thank them for having such driving confidence, if I had the eyes for it, their example would have stood me well.

Calipers in thought before communion

In the view of my cane

It’s a funny world of knowledge gained in the past that you probably never thought might come in useful. At other times, rather than use that knowledge lost in the deep recesses of your memory, you find someone who is an expert of sorts to help for a fee or a price, whichever way you look at it.

As I sat in church yesterday, I thought about my walking canes and I have quite a few, they have been subjected to lots of wear and tear, some in need of repair that I have had thoughts of fixing myself, but never got to it.

When it comes to the ferrules, the rubber thing that you fix to the end of the cane, over time, that does wear away. You would think you just walk into a cobbler’s shop and find an array of ferrules to attach to your cane. Wrong!

No standard to the rule

Beyond the unsightliness of some ferrules as big as doorstops, some just would not fit, suggesting there is no particular world standard for the diameter of walking canes. At least, that is my experience. I like snug and slim ferrules that do not bulge out at the end of my walking cane and those I would hardly find at the local cobbler’s which probably caters to a clientele that needs functional walking canes without any aesthetic beauty to their appearance.

I guess I am of the persuasion that appearances always matter, regardless of the handicap you retain for whatever circumstances you might be in.

So, whilst I was supposed to be meditating on the Eucharist I was about to receive, I began to think of how best to measure the diameter of my canes in order with that knowledge to get the specifically useful kind of cane ferrule I needed. Obviously, I could have measured the circumference of a cross-section of a cane and divided by Pi, easy arithmetic, but I wanted a bit more precision.

Calipers of a different sort

Out of the recesses of my knowledge acquired from secondary school came, what’s the instrument for measuring diameters amongst other things? Calipers, in fact, vernier calipers and so, my mind was set on acquiring vernier calipers and once I had a view of the diameters of my many canes, I would order the cane ferrules.

One other reason for cane ferrules beyond the response shock of them hitting the ground is you avoid the wear of the core material of the walking cane, the ones I use are of wooden material, however, one has an inner metal core that was exposed once the cane ferrule was completely worn. The cane needs additional work beyond the replacement of the cane ferrule though.

Shopping for a vernier caliper is an ordeal in itself, the cheap ones with digital readouts looked like a bargain until you read the one-star reviews, inaccurate, flimsy, poor quality, and useless, were the verdicts. Basically, give them a miss.

Exactness and precision, old-school

Heck, I have an engineering background, so I should be able to read scales and the precision elements to them why not get a more durable one than the plastic ones that require a battery with all the other issues the poor reviews highlighted?

So, I am getting a traditional hand-operated, stainless steel vernier caliper. I quick review of how to get your readings to two decimal points and you are assured that no knowledge is entirely lost if you let your imagination explore the possibilities around you.

After a moment of seeming daydreaming in church, it was my turn to stand in line for communion.

Thought Picnic: On the art of asking questions

Asking without relenting

Sometimes, inquisitiveness is the trait people least admire about us, then it might not be the fact that one is inquisitive but that the way we put our questions puts the backs of others up.

Through life we begin to understand that not all questions have answers or have the convincing answers necessary for us to move on to something else. In resignation, one might just leave a question looming in the quest for a better form of words to phrase intent to obtain the desired outcome.

Asking with some talent

The ability to ask questions that produce results is more an art than a science, there is something to do with phrasing and framing, contextualizing and limiting the scope to digress, though in obtaining answers one might be regaled with much more than was asked for, to make the point clearer and better, even if unexpected.

We find that in computing, the ability to get good search results depends on the search phrase, even so with the Artificial Intelligence craze that has occupied us in the last 6 months, that art of questioning is called prompting, we begin to descend into jargon territory just trying to get the best answers to our strangest questions.

Asking without regret

Obviously, there are questions we would rather not hear or have to address, too many of which can be negatively impactful on the participants involved in that inquiry. These are a range of thoughts that crept into my mind, of which the exploration should be one of considered introspection than of public expression.

The question then becomes whether the right question has been asked or the question has been phrased to confirm a bias rather elicit an objective response. On those questions we ponder on the existential and the ephemeral, the eternal and the ethereal, along with every other thing that brings some satisfaction to the quest for knowledge or assurance. The art would never go out of fashion.

In Telling: Not knowing there is help for you

Not knowing your dues

Understanding how to get help can be a handicap for people who have generally been self-reliant and independent. Having been schooled on self-sufficiency through grit, determination, and hard work, one can so easily be lost when the tried and tested modes of living and existing fail.

When some thirteen years ago I fell so seriously ill with cancer and the treatment meant it was impossible for me to consider returning to work as I underwent chemotherapy. Living in the Netherlands with all the accoutrements of an EU citizen and fully paying my taxes, I was unaware of what support I might get from the state. In fact, I did not think I qualified.

There was one month when I literally had nothing, but for the generosity of friends, I might just have one day expired on the floor of my living room and then would have been the end of all my troubles. However, it was one of the unique elements of the Dutch health system that they were not just concerned about my physical health but also my mental health and how I was getting on with life.

Support beyond the medicine

On one of my hospital visits, the nurse asked if I was getting any income support and when I responded in the negative, she was quite taken aback. She insisted that having worked in the Netherlands for almost a decade, I should have contributed enough to the system for such situations as my inability to work because of ill health.

She did not leave it at that, she marched me to the social security support office in the hospital and asked that they take on my case. Immediately, I was given forms to fill and I typed out a cover letter explaining my circumstances. The office fast-tracked the application to the responsible department and within the week, much-needed financial support arrived at the highest accessible support payout, backdated 6 months, which was the maximum that could be allowed.

Getting the help needed

If I had known any better, that application should have gone in at least 8 months before. Yet, with that lesson learnt, it is not that practised. The default inclination is always to be actively and fruitfully engaged in employment than depending on welfare payments.

It delays the necessary work of seeking support because you have the mind that things are on the turn and the reality is as days turn to weeks and weeks to months, that passage of time means what could have been done, is not done.

By the time you realise or understand that there is more than adequate support available, your situation is almost hopelessly dire. It is strange, yet troubling, the many who need help sometimes just do not know what help is available and how to access it.

Learning from the letters

Letters from the past

In the process of writing one’s story, much research still needs to be done, the many things you think you remember from things said and related, over time that should be reviewed and confirmed. The confusion of dates and events along with those involved.

I thought I was going type out the sketches of memory percolating in my mind over the last couple of weeks, but at the same time, I had been thinking of reading letters going back 30 years just to fill in some gaps.

Reaching for the trusty shoebox, I read the first lover’s letter from April 1992 and many subsequent letters afterwards with some dates confirmed and what feelings we had for each other then. My parents each with their entreaties about what should be doing in the UK, full of advice on how to approach things and the obligatory badgering about making introductions and getting married.

Letters with a blast

On the event side, it occurred to me that there were things I might not have noticed, marriages, births, and deaths placed in their perspectives of relationships, celebrations and there were quite a few, who was doing what and where, especially how they were getting on, I had not read these letters since when I received and read them the first time.

Other things that could wear you down from all quarters, as questions, requests, demands, and pleadings extending beyond relations to friends and passing acquaintances, many with the view that you are living large abroad with no responsibilities apart from that which regards them. If one were to put a cost to the tranche of requirements, you would be totally wiped out. For those of us with regular engagements, you had to ignore and withhold a response totally.

Yet, there were many more letters to read all of which read out in my head in the hearing of the voices of the authors, that itself brought a kind of mental strain even though none had the contemporaneous urgency that portended the time of writing, I had to give it a break and find another time to read a few more.

Letters written to last

Though, in one of the letters from my mother with some useful historical content that I jotted down from my notes, she also revealed that she once worked at Vono Tipton. Vono was also known in Nigeria for beds, bed frames, bedsteads, bedding, and furniture. What I did not know was that VONO is in fact an acronym for Vaughan Only, No Others. The company was founded in 1896 by Ernest Vaughan and at one time, the largest employer in Tipton. [The annals of Tipton industries]

As for the other pertinent pieces of information I gain, I would suppose those would be woven into the stories to be found in my book.

Coronavirus streets in Manchester - LXVII

Unlearning to learn anew

The streets present the spectacle of the interesting and the surprising, even the astonishing is offered as one wonders if the past two years have given us any lessons to either learn or ‘unstudy’. I say ‘unstudy’ because there is much, we have learnt from the past that needs a current unlearning to make allowances for new and different aspects of knowledge, but there must be a willingness to adapt, or nothing changes.

I wondered too when yesterday I was out and about, at one indoor place where I had brunch, it occurred to me that I was not as concerned to put on my mask, the thought was scary, especially after realising that people I know had so recently contracted COVID-19. At one beer garden, you could be forgiven for thinking Octoberfest had an early opening day in Manchester.

Nature against lashes

On another note, passing by three ladies and that is as qualified as you would get it, They were sat on benches chatting away, one of them daintily holding a lit spliff and puffing at it, that was not what piqued my interest, but that the eyelashes on two of them were was sweeping and prominent as to have the means of setting off a hurricane if nature were to acquiesce to the batting of them and syncopate with their demonstration of flair.

Then I was wondering again about fashion that does not seem to have reason, meaning, or sense, then, what do I know? Before I begin to study the physics, biology, chemistry, and adequacy of such ocular embellishments that are grandiose in the extreme as to be comical for clownery. But hey! Each to their own.

Knowing not to be confident in your incompetence

So, you think you are good?

When you think about it and discretion prevents you from speaking the truth just to spare their blushes or a feeling of despondency, many people are not as good at what they think they are good at. Aspects of expression or demonstration that they deploy can be so bad that if you do not have the form of words of a gentle let down, you endure the spectacle and move on.

Talk about dancing and everyone has a way they believe they can move to the music and too many of us do think we are good dancers with dare I say, a sense of rhythm, but when observed by someone else that has an idea of what dancing is about, they probably would not shove you off the dancefloor, even if what they are observing might haunt them thereafter.

In confidence, we perform

This kind of thinking comes with a sense of bravado or even confidence, but confidence is not expertise even as expertise might well exude confidence. Like when a colleague demonstrated a scenario to Microsoft to refocus our minds on what we were trying to resolve, I was more than impressed by the clarity of expression, the detail of the process, and the explanation of the issue that no one could be in any doubt about what we wanted doing. This man is good, I thought, he knows what he is doing, and he is doing it well.

Then I think of certain other situations like when someone was approached in a sauna by a quite self-assured masseuse, or so they thought, then whatever informed the person to take the offer I cannot tell, but from the first touch, as was narrated to me, there was nothing in the realm of all possible massage techniques in what they did, the hands were rough and might well have been attuned to masonry or at a smithery, but not on any human body, a polite and abrupt stop was called for.

If I were in that situation and that person could read my mind, and I am glad my mind is not such an open book when it should be, the person would have sought therapy at the ready excoriation that could have proceeded from my lips, and that would have been tempered with structure and consideration because my sobriety to a large extent bridles my tongue.

The conceit of stupid

It leads me to another aspect of confidence which is in fact, folly, and this is of people who use their phones whilst in control of a vehicle or when walking in a crowded area. Too many think they can concentrate on one thing while doing another.

Whether it is writing or reading messages on a phone, or listening to and participating in a conversation, these are serious distractions from driving and walking through a crowd that requires high levels of concentration and spatial awareness these other activities divide your concentration and might consequentially make you bad at all the activities, even if excellence could be demonstrated in your doing one activity at any one time.

I prefer to concentrate

Maybe people are good at multitasking, or they believe they are, I would rather time slice, apportioning time to one activity and then the next, frequently reviewing what I am doing and gauging the progress, keeping tabs on how much is accomplished for each of the things being done. I prefer to concentrate and that is why when I am out and about, I would only take calls on my phone if I have found a place to sit down.

On my walks too, I see a lot of people with their headphones or earbuds on, music going into their ears at volumes that exclude externalities they will encounter whilst jogging. As I have seen too many inconsiderate road users, drivers, cyclists, those on e-scooters and even plain pedestrians totally unaware of who is around them or what is happening around them, accidents happen.

I stopped wearing headphones and listening to music whilst out walking a long time ago, because I needed to know, see, and hear what was going on around me for my own safety and in consideration of others.

In a world of the world

Even when riding bicycles in The Netherlands, I only had an earpiece in one ear, for the same reason that I wanted to know what was happening around me. You cannot just feel you are in a world of your own when you are out in the world.

We all have mutual public space responsibilities to prevent walking into each other along with preventing other mishaps. I commend those who have amazing abilities, but I would err on the side of caution, when I see overconfidence, that person is probably prone to error and invariably puts us all at risk. 

We should get better at what we claim to be able to do, but also understand the limits of our abilities, however, more pertinently, seeking to impress when what you do is hardly impressive, neither helps you nor the others you are trying to impress. In jocular or informal and private settings, maybe, but otherwise, in public, formal, professional, or serious situations where lives and much else could be impacted, curtail and curb your enthusiasm.

Thought Picnic: Letting vulnerability lead to love

No path is straight

I have shied away from reading manuals about issues that require a lot more tailoring to situations and circumstances than prescription as a panacea to an issue. Now, for instance, I take my medical prescriptions religiously, the only tailoring involved is the time of day when I take my medicine, it has to suit my life, my lifestyle, and my work, not impeding function, purpose, or energy to perform.

Then I look at things like my career, life-changing decisions, and love, none of which have followed a trajectory or even example, every path has been uniquely individual and maybe different, or where similarities can be seen, there are many other factors that challenge the premise of imitation. In many cases, other people’s lives do not follow a template of lists or processes, individuality is an often frowned upon characteristic in some cultures, deviating from a norm can lead to ostracism and hence it modulates the tendency to conform.

Mistakes as lesson notes

On the matter of love, sadly, I find no immediate example of close or distant relations of the generation before mine who have laid out a promise of anything near perfect, however, a study of their situations has informed the need and desire not to fall into the same mistakes they made.

If it is not the power dynamics of dominance and submission, controlling the means of provision, conformity to traditions, expectations and requirements of culture, transitional states of contrived convenience, imposition by reason of responsibilities especially after procreation, or infidelities condoned even in the face of humiliation and embarrassment of the other, love has had a stranger than believable meaning to the participants. In the longer term, they have separated, regretted, fought, alienated, castigated, abused, or neglected each other.

It is case of uneasy détente as their offspring negotiate the minefields of animosity if they can deftly avoid becoming the grass on which the elephants get to fight to complete exhaustion and rise again to continue where they left off.

Learning what we can do

This is where much learning has to begin, in understanding what love really is and how it is manifest to us. To many, love is a strange esoteric thing, made aspirational in fairy tales that suggest living happily ever after, the fiction of an ideal rarely close to real life. We are imperfect beings seeking a more perfect relationship with those we are attracted to whilst making allowances for the fact that nothing is ever completely done, there is a process of growth and nurturing that needs committing to, for enduring fulfilment.

We probably know how to show and give love, from a place of understanding or out of making amends for bad experiences that appeared to suggest love when it never was that. The past can have damaged people irreparably that they seek succour in anything, accepting everything believing there is some sort of security even as they endure the totally untenable when they should walk, if not flee from their abuser who either knows no better or sees that flawed dynamic as the best expression of themselves.

Love is a process

In another song we are told, ‘Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.’ That is easier said than done, for knowing love, loving oneself and then getting the love you truly deserve could take a lifetime of failures and processes of elimination, the unlearning of things, the relearning of other things, along with a schooling of life with all its vicissitudes of good and bad fortune.

With our built-in survivor’s instinct, we look for ways to thrive in all areas of endeavour, a sense of independence, responsibility, self-awareness, and self-control sometimes denies you some elements of your humanity as vulnerability, weakness, infirmity, weakness, or incapacity, which are all part of the human experience. The superhuman may have many admirers but no friends or confidantes as we put ourselves outside the reach of those who can genuinely appreciate us fully and help us when our strength is not full.

Letting your vulnerability help you love

That is the more difficult part of the expression of love, knowing how to use it, knowing when to let go, appreciating when to give way or let be, and most of all being able to let yourself be loved like you should, purely, wholly, fully, unconditionally, and magnificently. You have to accept your vulnerability to be there and resist the temptation to instruct or construct barriers masquerading as understanding the depth from which love is shown to you and how it is expressed in word and in deed.

Like with nature, we need to become good fertile and watered ground in which the seeds of love can be sown to reap a bountiful harvest of the heart in full glow of a fairy tale that can only exist in the imagination of others. I can only wonder if we have the ability to rewrite our love stories when given the opportunity to work at it.

Men talking helping other men talk

Sharing a private matter

I am just listening to a programme on BBC Radio 4 – Room 5 where I think people talk about life-changing diagnoses of personal consequence. Today, it was about Jon, tall, successful, nice young family and ticking all the boxes. [BBC Radio 4 – Room 5 – Jon]

He was at Peppa Pig World with his family a couple of years ago when he discovered something wrong with his body, secretions from his penis that his GP first treated as a rash or basic infection, then he was referred to a Genitourinary Medicine (GUM) clinic where they determined he did not have a sexually transmitted infection. Now, I already suspected what it might be.

Anyway, after researching online, he found a consultant that diagnosed that he had penile cancer and it had spread to one of the lymph nodes, it was advanced, but also treatable and so they arranged the programme of treatment that has now put the cancer in remission apart from making Jon a totally changed man.

Time to be expressive

I share this story because it has resonance with me in many ways that I have written about before. As men we find it difficult to take about health issues, an irritation in a private place with the accompanying discomfort that we dismiss as trivial even as we are caught up in the embarrassment and tongue-tied when it matters.

Men are dying of conditions that are treatable if caught on time, prostate cancer especially, but also penile cancer and breast cancer, yes, men get it too. We need to cross that barrier that stops us getting help. Only you can properly explain how you feel for a doctor to begin a proper diagnosis or set you on a course of the treatment that would give you that best outcomes, you need to have your voice speaking loud, clear, without fear, shame, or embarrassment.

On sex and sexual organs, the words describing them should not be taboo and move out of the category of profanity. Penis, arse hole, scrotum, balls, buttocks, breast or whatever colloquialism or vernacular gives meaning to what you are referring to need to be words you can use freely in a describing how and what you are feeling as your life might depend on it, it is no time to be coy or shy.

You are going to be touched and prodded in places you have never been touched before or where you have not intended was touchable. Heck! Your life depends on touching the right places to feel and see what is wrong. You can’t play offensive when a situation has made you defensive.

Where my manliness was foolish

In early 2009, I allowed what appeared to be athlete’s foot to develop into a stinking sore half-aware that it might be related to a much earlier HIV diagnosis. That sore turned out to be Kaposi’s sarcoma, a kind of skin cancer and a manifestation in my own case of full-blown AIDS. My condition was that serious that at diagnosis in September of that year, I was given the prognosis that it was treatable if I could tolerate the treatment, else, I had only 5 weeks to live.

The treatment worked because there was a body of knowledge and experience garnered from people and many of whom had not survived that became the canon on which specialists could claim and assert confidence to tackle my condition. I was put on antiretroviral (ARV) drugs that I am still on and seven sessions of chemotherapy over 5 months to put the cancer in remission and reverse AIDS to the point where I have had an undetectable viral load of HIV for over 12 years.

Responsibility and acceptance

I know I contracted HIV through reckless and unsafe sex practices, I have come to terms with the responsibility and consequence of my own actions, however, I do not live in guilt or regret of that, I have a life to live and I intend for whatever time I have left to live it well. In the process, I have learnt to speak freely and liberally especially with medical personnel about how I am feeling, promptly, directly and without mincing words.

However, many diagnoses are not of commission or omission, they are accidents of nature bringing adversity, infirmity and challenges with them. We are left with ourselves and the help we can get to face these situations with the hope that we might surmount them and get to tell a better story.

My voice for my choice

To a team, I once had so say, “It’s my body first, before it is your guinea-pig.”, when I was challenging the determination for intrusive treatment not long after my ordeal with chemotherapy. To another, when I was seeking treatment for another condition, I was blunt about being aware of my mortality as a result of co-morbidities for which immediate action was taken. When I was asked to change to medication that gave me no quality of life, I presented the daily dairy of recorded side effects and contra-indications, and at my request, I was put back on my original drug regime.

I am in my knowledge and understanding as good as my medical notes, if not better. It comes from genuine self-interest and awareness along with the freedom and willingness to talk to address any medical situation I am facing. Then, I encourage the invitation and sitting in of medical students on my consultations, I believe that not only can they learn from my condition, that experience can also go into helping others. I would normally engagement them to appreciate what areas of study and research they want to specialise in.

All the help available

Obviously, for the outcomes I have had, I have to thank the open-minded, professional, considerate doctors in their humanity who have listened, understood, helped, and encouraged me on my path to wellness, their expertise applied with respect and consideration has been lifesaving in so many ways.

To us men, when you feel something, have it checked out and follow the full course with all the advice and help you can get, speak up, speak loudly and if you are not getting the best outcomes possible, challenge the orthodoxy. It is always your body first, before it is anyone’s guinea pig, no matter how good they are at what they do.