June 14, 2002 was a big day in my life. A huge one. 

It was the day I died and was reborn a new person.  

Not kidding. I didn't find Jesus, but I did find that I had four blocked arteries in my heart, and needed emergency surgery to save my life. 

It was also the last day I smoked. Before 6/14/02, I was a multi-pack-per-day smoker. Marlboro Lights was my brand. 

I survived, in a sense, but in another sense, I did not. 

When I got home from the hospital, I felt like I was in the house of a dead relative. The house was filled with stuff I didn't need or want. A few months later, the house was sold, the stuff was either given away or dumpstered, and I was off to Boston for an adventure in that's still going on. 

When I stress about not being included in something or other, a quick reminder that I died and of course they don't include dead people in their parties or conferences or roundups of heroes or whatever it is I am not being honored with.  

Let's see, 2011 - 2002 is 9. Nine years since I died. Is this heaven? Well, not really. But it's still pretty good! 

What happened again? I forgot the anniversary day. I see that as a sign that I am no longer a nicotine addict. There was a time when it took discipline not to smoke. That's not true anymore. Occasionally I get the urge to buy a pack. But it happens rarely. And so far I have let the urge pass without acting.  

"One day at a time." 

It's a milestone worth mentioning on my blog.  

Now back to my life as a ghost!