MontereyCounty Herald articles

----------He has become the self-appointed captain of this, some would say sinking ship.
----------There are experts who claim he should have drowned six months ago, and others who didn't even give him those odds. Now there is talk of buying time and promises of graceful exits.
----------But there is something about the way Ric Masten is navigating that will lead him safely, calmly to shore. He's not particular about the landing spot, and he's not necessarily in any hurry. He merely wants the peace that comes with having righted this poetic vessel.
----------"So many people living with death refuse to take responsibility for their life or death." he says.
Ric Masten is dying. Not today, probably not tomorrow, but someday not too far away. He has advanced, incurable metastatic prostate cancer. He's known since February 1999, after doctors discovered "a disturbing stiffness in the gland." His disease is considered terminal. He's just not sure how that makes him much different from anyone else.
----------"We are all terminal," he said.
----------"… think about it boys,' he writes to fellow prostate cancer patients in "Like Raccoons," one of his recent poems, "we're born — we live — we die. So what's different now? Nothing, except for being blessed with a sharp reminder to never let another unexplored moment slip by.
"My condolences to those who fall prey to the unexpected cardiac arrest, the sudden traffic casualty, forced to depart short of a conclusion, short of the all important 'good byes.'"
----------Ah, but this is much too soon for "so long" Life and death — sinking and swimming — always have been about perspective, and from Masten's Palo Colorado Canyon porthole, this 72-year-old sailor is cresting the waves.
----------When he peers out, it's upon glorious Big Sur sunsets. He sees his wife, Billie Barbara, his co-captain of 49 years, her smile as beaming, her laughter as spontaneous and infectious as the day nearly five decades ago when he relinquished his heart to an aspiring actress named Billie Barbara Bolton. He watches his grown children and never once takes for granted they know how he feels.
----------"I see more, I think more," Ric says. "I try to tell my kids I love them more. I try to catch every sunset, all those things you know are there but you get too busy to notice. I tell Billie I love her a lot, and never fail to say 'Come, look at the moon.'
----------"And we have a dog — Zee Zee — who likes to have the ball thrown. But if you throw it, she'll want you to keep throwing it. So, I usually throw it and then try to run inside the house before she comes back with those soulful eyes. Now, I give her one or two more throws."
----------In the looming embrace of death, Ric Masten has truly come to know life. He has found eternity, and it is today.
----------"We all know we are going to die, but very few of us believe it," he says. "Death is the blessing we're given to enjoy our life. If only we could realize this when we're 20. Then, maybe we'd remember to bring home flowers every night."
----------It has been a benediction then, this daunting diagnosis — a time for freedom and philosophy, poetry and passion. Ric — who explores them all on his Web site, www.ricmasten.com — was never sure he would celebrate his 49th birthday, the same age at which his father passed away. "That was one hell of a year," Ric says.
----------Then on a summer day 30 years ago, he stood on Bixby Bridge, inches away from suicide before deciding it would be more interesting to write about his sorrowful plan than to actually carry it out.
----------"… I paused and listened to the night for motor sound and looked for lights, but the world was empty," he writes in "The Bixby Bridge Incident."
----------"No one was coming to witness my final scene — the grand finale — and it was such a fantastic, dramatic moment I decided to come back and tell you all about it."
----------Now he talks of celebrating his and Billie's 50th anniversary next Sept. 3 and maybe even passing his mother, who lived to be 78. "The length of time doesn't matter now, though," he says. What matters is being aware of the time you have."
----------Billie is becoming more aware, too. Admittedly, Ric's diagnosis "changed everything," she says of the man she calls her one, true love. "All my life, I thought we were different — immortal. When we found out about the cancer, I said, 'I'll just bargain with God or the devil or somebody,' but Ric didn't get any better.
"Now we know he is going to die, but he doesn't have to die today. And that's what we have, today."
----------All any captain can hope for really.




			Ric Masten and his wife, Billie Barbara Masten, share a laugh in their dining room. The flowers on the table are from their 49th wedding anniversary, which they celebrated on Sept. 3. HE FINDS THE ETERNAL PRESENT IN EACH AND EVERY DAY By MARY BARKER Special To The Herald ----------He has become the self-appointed captain of this, some would say sinking ship. ----------There are experts who claim he should have drowned six months ago, and others who didn't even give him those odds. Now there is talk of buying time and promises of graceful exits. ----------But there is something about the way Ric Masten is navigating that will lead him safely, calmly to shore. He's not particular about the landing spot, and he's not necessarily in any hurry. He merely wants the peace that comes with having righted this poetic vessel. ----------"So many people living with death refuse to take responsibility for their life or death." he says. Ric Masten is dying. Not today, probably not tomorrow, but someday not too far away. He has advanced, incurable metastatic prostate cancer. He's known since February 1999, after doctors discovered "a disturbing stiffness in the gland." His disease is considered terminal. He's just not sure how that makes him much different from anyone else. ----------"We are all terminal," he said. ----------"… think about it boys,' he writes to fellow prostate cancer patients in "Like Raccoons," one of his recent poems, "we're born — we live — we die. So what's different now? Nothing, except for being blessed with a sharp reminder to never let another unexplored moment slip by. "My condolences to those who fall prey to the unexpected cardiac arrest, the sudden traffic casualty, forced to depart short of a conclusion, short of the all important 'good byes.'" ----------Ah, but this is much too soon for "so long" Life and death — sinking and swimming — always have been about perspective, and from Masten's Palo Colorado Canyon porthole, this 72-year-old sailor is cresting the waves. ----------When he peers out, it's upon glorious Big Sur sunsets. He sees his wife, Billie Barbara, his co-captain of 49 years, her smile as beaming, her laughter as spontaneous and infectious as the day nearly five decades ago when he relinquished his heart to an aspiring actress named Billie Barbara Bolton. He watches his grown children and never once takes for granted they know how he feels. ----------"I see more, I think more," Ric says. "I try to tell my kids I love them more. I try to catch every sunset, all those things you know are there but you get too busy to notice. I tell Billie I love her a lot, and never fail to say 'Come, look at the moon.' ----------"And we have a dog — Zee Zee — who likes to have the ball thrown. But if you throw it, she'll want you to keep throwing it. So, I usually throw it and then try to run inside the house before she comes back with those soulful eyes. Now, I give her one or two more throws." ----------In the looming embrace of death, Ric Masten has truly come to know life. He has found eternity, and it is today. ----------"We all know we are going to die, but very few of us believe it," he says. "Death is the blessing we're given to enjoy our life. If only we could realize this when we're 20. Then, maybe we'd remember to bring home flowers every night." ----------It has been a benediction then, this daunting diagnosis — a time for freedom and philosophy, poetry and passion. Ric — who explores them all on his Web site, www.ricmasten.com — was never sure he would celebrate his 49th birthday, the same age at which his father passed away. "That was one hell of a year," Ric says. ----------Then on a summer day 30 years ago, he stood on Bixby Bridge, inches away from suicide before deciding it would be more interesting to write about his sorrowful plan than to actually carry it out. ----------"… I paused and listened to the night for motor sound and looked for lights, but the world was empty," he writes in "The Bixby Bridge Incident." ----------"No one was coming to witness my final scene — the grand finale — and it was such a fantastic, dramatic moment I decided to come back and tell you all about it." ----------Now he talks of celebrating his and Billie's 50th anniversary next Sept. 3 and maybe even passing his mother, who lived to be 78. "The length of time doesn't matter now, though," he says. What matters is being aware of the time you have." ----------Billie is becoming more aware, too. Admittedly, Ric's diagnosis "changed everything," she says of the man she calls her one, true love. "All my life, I thought we were different — immortal. When we found out about the cancer, I said, 'I'll just bargain with God or the devil or somebody,' but Ric didn't get any better. "Now we know he is going to die, but he doesn't have to die today. And that's what we have, today." ----------All any captain can hope for really.