What did you do this summer?

Summer 2009. Where did it go? Seems like it was just yesterday I was enjoying BBQ on a hot summer day or strolling the Oceanside pier looking at the scenery. And I mean real scenery. We got out of our bunker quite a bit this summer. Took in San Diego Gay Pride for the first time in, oh, a decade or more. I still consider the festival to be a big, gay garage sale. But, whatever.

Your Fierce scout had a lot of non-porn business to deal with this summer. We also took a job outside of the biz so that the brain could be re-engaged. Face it: porn is pretty brainless. Have you ever talked to a model?

We learned a lot this summer. Principally: don't make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option.

We will learn to incorporate the word "no" into our vocabulary.

We also learned that: Twitter was invented by the devil; and that models who think they are smarter than the people they work for are destined to fall quickly. And who will be there to catch them? It's amazing that one can think they can get away with so much, yet the truth was broadcast via the Internets. It's why I deleted my Fierce twitter account. I don't miss it at all.

Who needs it?

With the help of our fancy coffee drinks that gives us energy, and supportive friends, we have regained our fierceness. Next week we welcome Chris from the east coast to San Diego for work. There are some great potentials in the pipeline we are working on cultivating right now. If all goes well, it's going to be a most fierce end of year.

We've reclaimed our personal space, moved on, and are considering many options. Business and personal.

Finally, we are learning to breathe again. It's one of the most important things one can do.

Lastly, I want to take a moment to write about my father. Five or six years ago, it was apparent that my dad was going through a change. It was called Alzheimer's Disease. I can specifically remember the day when I realized my father was old. It's a moment that for decades I wondered when it would come. It came quickly. Too quick.

The disease progressed. My mother was determined to take care of him. He began to worsen this spring. More and more he was not remembering who my mother was. More and more he was becoming abusive. We didn't blame him. Alzheimer's is a cruel disease.

But aren't they all?

After hospital visits, dealing with social service agencies, nurses, and doctors, we put him into a board and care facility early summer. Financially, it was devastating to the family (namely me), but it was the right thing to do for his sake, and for my mother's.

Then, the autumn of summer came, and his health worsened.

Yet, he "remembered" who I was throughout the summer. Even when he was really sick, he recalled that I was his son. I remember the very last lucid moment I had with him. We had just taken him to a doctor appointment and brought him back to his board and care facility. I sat him in his comfortable chair and kissed him goodbye. He then took my hand and kissed the back of it. He had never done that before. It tore me up inside.

In August, he started developing respiratory problems. We had to take him to the ER. His skin was pale white. I had never seen him so bad. I thought he was going to die.

As it turns out, that would be the last day I would see my father alive.

He suddenly passed away on October 19, 2009 at 9:40 pm. My mother and I had only a moment's warning. When the first call to me came, at about 9:30 pm, I was driving to San Diego. Maybe seven minutes later, the second call came.

And he was gone.

Just like that.

I regret not seeing him between the time of his going to the ER until his death. I had planned to. I missed my opportunity. It's the biggest regret of my life to date.

But I am at least grateful for the last real day I had with him. When he kissed the back of my hand. I'll never forget that moment.

Not ever.