by Larry Brody

And now it’s time for a little self-aggrandizement.

I mean, if a 65 year old man who’s just had a heart attack and bypass surgery can’t show off a little of what’s helped him feel better and stronger every day, who can?

Here, then, is a brief sampling of the astounding number of emails, letters, and even postcards I’ve gotten since first revealing what happened:

From Aebeth, here in Paradise: “I for one hope you’re around to report on Paradise for a long time to come. I am truly sorry for what you have gone through; but I feel quite confident you will only allow the slow down to help you ponder life and share your thoughts with the wind, and the rest of your loyal listeners. Get strong Larry!! And get well SOON!!”

R.D., in Arkansas: “My prayers and best wishes for a quick, strong, high energy level to come to [Larry B]…very quickly. He still has some things to do that call for passion. So recover quickly, kind man.”

D.Q., in Australia: “I just wanted to say I am sorry to hear about your health and wish you a speedy and full recovery. I am sure all out there wish you the same and all understand that you need to heal. Having given so much of yourself to us, it is now time to give to yourself and grow stronger again. All the very best, mate, and positive vibes coming at you from down here.

J.T., in Wisconsin: “Take good care and glad you are still with us…Thank you for being you, giving back, and sharing your journey with the rest of us. Best to you…in the next stage of your many-faceted wanderings….”

C.C., somewhere on the web: “I was very saddened to hear of your recent heart attack. But I’m glad you’ll be surrounded by friends and family during your recovery. I’ll send a wish out to the universe for your continued and rapid recovery. (That’s as close as an on-the-fence agnostic like me can get to saying a prayer.)”

Loyal Reader D.C. Rowlett: “Dad was 59 years old when his heart attack came…It was late October 1966 and bypass surgery had not been thought of…so recovery was a very slow process. Dad spent the greater part of the upcoming winter in the house, pacing the floor and looking out the screen door across the Ashley farm just to the north of us.

“As soon as the grass began to turn green in the early spring his demeanor changed. ‘Gotta get my boat out and see if it still floats.’ ‘Gotta get my shotgun and rifle cleaned up. I ain’t sitting in this house anymore.’ He didn’t either. He stayed active till he was almost 80 years old. Hang in there Larry B. this is just a bump in the road.”

Of course, not all has been sweetness and light. A lawyer-reader had this interesting take: “Do you know whose dog went through your trash? A case could be made that its owner is responsible for your heart attack…and liable for considerable damages….”

I do know whose dog it was. But to me this hardly seems the time for mean-spiritedness. I doubt that the Universe has hit me with what another reader called “this wake-up call” for reasons other than to urge me to be more generous than I’ve been. More open. More giving.

After all, what does the planet need me around for if I can’t help make it a better place?

Here’s hoping that my heart’s misadventures will open new doors for me and mine and all of you who have taken the time to read about Gwen’s and my days and weeks, months and years, here in Paradise.

Did I start this column talking about my own self-aggrandizement? How ridiculous. What I really want to do here and now is express my gratitude for all the good wishes I’ve received, not only now but during all the time Gwen and our menagerie have lived here. I’m truly overwhelmed.

Thank you. Thank you all.

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