I just flew into Chicago. I had a window seat, and as I am want to do I studied the country side as we progressed north from Memphis. After years of doing this, I can pretty much find enough land marks to identify where we are. So it was not at all difficult to identify the Kankakee river as we flew in our manuevering for approach into Chicago. So? What is special about that area? Well............., nothing.................., and everything. It is where I spent most of my youth, and it is where some family resides today.
Watching the farm country roll by, I was a little surprised at the pull on my heart. Why? What about Kankakee, Bradley, and Bourbonnais would call to me after 3 decades away? What is it about a place that makes it home? Like I said, 3 decades. Yet the pull was absolute.
It is not just Illinois. Eddyville Kentucky calls to my soul. So does Brownsville, Tennessee (and I have not been there but once or twice in the last 30 years). I never fly into Honolulu that I do not look for the place we lived for three years. There is a double lot in downtown Milton Florida that I still drive by. The old house is gone, but some of the plants we planted are still there. What is it that draws me?
Memories........... it has to be memories. I think we invest so much of ourselves in an area that we leave a little bit of ourselves there. And maybe we need to touch that bit of ourselves occasionally. As I sit here contemplating, the words to a song come to mind..... it was done by Wynona... it goes:
Old tin roof, leaves in the gutter
A hole in the screen door big as your fist, and flies on the butter
Mamaw baking sugar cookies, we were watching cartoons
Heard her holler from the kitchen which one of you youngin's wants to lick the spoon?
Yellow jackets on the watermelon, honeysuckle in the air
Daddy turning on the sprinkler, us kids running through it in our underwear
Old dog napping on the front porch, his ear just a-twitching
Fell asleep on Granddaddy's lap to the sound of his pocket watch ticking
Chorus
Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh
It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago
Oh, oh, oh - Oh, oh, oh
You can dream about it every now and then
But you can't go home again
Me and my best friend Jenny set up a back yard camp
Stole one of Mama's Mason jars, poked holes in the lid and made a fire fly lamp
Me and Billy Monroe sneaking down by the river
And I'm still haunted by the taste kiss I was too scared to give him
Repeat Chorus
There's a black-top road, a faded yellow centerline
It can take you back to the place, but it can't take you back in time
Dad always warned me about trying to live in the past.................. but it is so integral to where we are today. Maybe just an occasional visit?
Monday, November 14, 2011
Everything I do.....................
I was recently watching Kevin Costner's take on the Robin Hood saga while wasting time waiting for my next commercial to another assignment. Yep, back to work at last. I had not heard the song "Everything I Do" by Bryan Adams in quite awhile. In the movie there is a scene where the noble Muslim played by Morgan Freeman helps Little John's wife through a breech birth. The music is hinted at throughout the scene. Eventually an infant newborn is placed into Maid Marians arms...... and I am immediately whisked away to my own moment when a newborn changed my world. It is amazing to me how the words to what I have always thought of as a traditional love song fits into the theme of a parent and a child.
Almost three decades ago about this time of year my Jeni was as swollen as a watermellon, and we still had almost three months remaining in her pregnancy. I more than once suggested we put advertising on her belly and use her as a mini Goodyear blimp (yep, even then I knew how to say the wrong thing). Jeni let me live because the truth was that our baby (and we did not know it's sex until the moment of birth) had been created in love. She was still intimately involved with the almighty in the manufacture of a new life..... I guess that you can put up with alot when suffering the consequences of love.
Amazing how something so incredibly poignant can eventually fade from the foremost parts of your existance. It seems like years since the events of Heathers birth have been something I might take a moment and reflect upon. I guess such moments lie there dormant..... kinda like emotional land mines. The music and the sight of a newborn launched me to a time and place that changed everything in what was up to then "My World". Back when everything revolved around me.
I remember everything. Every blessed moment. The moment at the Navy hospital that the Corpsman told me that Jeni's pregnancy test was positive (which I guess means I knew before she did..... nahhhh). She had sent me there to get some test results....... she knew. I, on the other hand was as thunder struck as if the Red Sea had just opened before me. I have no idea how I made it out of the parking lot, much less back to our home. How about a little "heads up"?
I remember the eventual middle of the night trips to the hospital (the first trip was premature. We must have logged a mini marathon walking the halls of the hospital in an attempt to somehow advance the appointed time. No luck. Jeni was more anxious to get that thing out of her than the unfortunate victims in the movie Alien). On our next trip I remember the concern at being surrounded by all the medical monitors (It is never completely comfortable to be in an environment that is so totally foriegn, with clicks, whirring, and beeps coming from all directions). I remember holding on to Jeni's hand. She squeezed so hard that I remember being amazed at her grip. I remember studying Jeni's face between contractions. It was the second time I thought I could see anothers soul. For Jeni, the baby in her womb was already a part of her life. For me, a totally ignorant man, Heather was not a reality till I held her. God, everything changed in that moment.
Up until that very moment I had always been the center of creation. I "knew" I was the center of my parents world. Dad had spoken in respectful reverence as to what it meant to him when he first laid eyes on me. For the first time I understood. I had no idea as to the extent of just how deeply my parents loved me. Nor, I suspect of how deeply they were loved in turn. Never again would the world be so simple. I understood for the first time why we use terms like "Father" when trying to define something beyond words.... Yep, even my faith was suddenly undergoing change. Love. I was awed by it's awesome magnitude. I have remained bowed in humble admiration ever since.
I remember them holding up a bloody little girl, Heathers first breath, and her first cry. They took her over to a table and as they cleaned I counted fingers and toes. A daughter. I was a Dad.......
They laid her on Jeni's chest, and Jeni looked at me and I swear I thought my life was now complete. Life could just not get any better. Jeni relinquished Heather to the nurse, and she handed me the bundle. I looked down, and was lost to the World while studying the face of my daughter. I have gone to that place any number of times since.
Heather is an adult today. Life progresses, and we are in the process of planning her wedding. In that entire period of time there has never been a minute that she has not been somewhere in the center of everything I have done. The center of my world. The impetus that started me to become aware of my soul. The catalyst which caused me to begin to understand love. Heavy stuff..........
I suspect that the reason I now enjoy much the same relationship with my eldest granddaughter is because of what Heather's birth made possible. Maybe it was that relationship that finally made it possible for me to understand how much my parents loved me...... making it possible for me to love them all the more in return. Maybe..............
I suspect that any and all that I have loved since her birth know that much of whatever I am capable of in the way of love comes from that experience.
To the grown bride to be, and to the little one I still see when I look at you, "Everything I do, I do it for you............."
Almost three decades ago about this time of year my Jeni was as swollen as a watermellon, and we still had almost three months remaining in her pregnancy. I more than once suggested we put advertising on her belly and use her as a mini Goodyear blimp (yep, even then I knew how to say the wrong thing). Jeni let me live because the truth was that our baby (and we did not know it's sex until the moment of birth) had been created in love. She was still intimately involved with the almighty in the manufacture of a new life..... I guess that you can put up with alot when suffering the consequences of love.
Amazing how something so incredibly poignant can eventually fade from the foremost parts of your existance. It seems like years since the events of Heathers birth have been something I might take a moment and reflect upon. I guess such moments lie there dormant..... kinda like emotional land mines. The music and the sight of a newborn launched me to a time and place that changed everything in what was up to then "My World". Back when everything revolved around me.
I remember everything. Every blessed moment. The moment at the Navy hospital that the Corpsman told me that Jeni's pregnancy test was positive (which I guess means I knew before she did..... nahhhh). She had sent me there to get some test results....... she knew. I, on the other hand was as thunder struck as if the Red Sea had just opened before me. I have no idea how I made it out of the parking lot, much less back to our home. How about a little "heads up"?
I remember the eventual middle of the night trips to the hospital (the first trip was premature. We must have logged a mini marathon walking the halls of the hospital in an attempt to somehow advance the appointed time. No luck. Jeni was more anxious to get that thing out of her than the unfortunate victims in the movie Alien). On our next trip I remember the concern at being surrounded by all the medical monitors (It is never completely comfortable to be in an environment that is so totally foriegn, with clicks, whirring, and beeps coming from all directions). I remember holding on to Jeni's hand. She squeezed so hard that I remember being amazed at her grip. I remember studying Jeni's face between contractions. It was the second time I thought I could see anothers soul. For Jeni, the baby in her womb was already a part of her life. For me, a totally ignorant man, Heather was not a reality till I held her. God, everything changed in that moment.
Up until that very moment I had always been the center of creation. I "knew" I was the center of my parents world. Dad had spoken in respectful reverence as to what it meant to him when he first laid eyes on me. For the first time I understood. I had no idea as to the extent of just how deeply my parents loved me. Nor, I suspect of how deeply they were loved in turn. Never again would the world be so simple. I understood for the first time why we use terms like "Father" when trying to define something beyond words.... Yep, even my faith was suddenly undergoing change. Love. I was awed by it's awesome magnitude. I have remained bowed in humble admiration ever since.
I remember them holding up a bloody little girl, Heathers first breath, and her first cry. They took her over to a table and as they cleaned I counted fingers and toes. A daughter. I was a Dad.......
They laid her on Jeni's chest, and Jeni looked at me and I swear I thought my life was now complete. Life could just not get any better. Jeni relinquished Heather to the nurse, and she handed me the bundle. I looked down, and was lost to the World while studying the face of my daughter. I have gone to that place any number of times since.
Heather is an adult today. Life progresses, and we are in the process of planning her wedding. In that entire period of time there has never been a minute that she has not been somewhere in the center of everything I have done. The center of my world. The impetus that started me to become aware of my soul. The catalyst which caused me to begin to understand love. Heavy stuff..........
I suspect that the reason I now enjoy much the same relationship with my eldest granddaughter is because of what Heather's birth made possible. Maybe it was that relationship that finally made it possible for me to understand how much my parents loved me...... making it possible for me to love them all the more in return. Maybe..............
I suspect that any and all that I have loved since her birth know that much of whatever I am capable of in the way of love comes from that experience.
To the grown bride to be, and to the little one I still see when I look at you, "Everything I do, I do it for you............."
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Something Heroic
Last weekend was the local Breast Cancer walk for awareness. Damnation, was there ever a lot of pink present. How exactly did pink become the color for breast cancer awareness? Then again, how did yellow ribbons become the symbol for soldiers away from home (excepting for Tony Orlando's song?) The variety of messages on the tshirts was certainly demonstration of the vast reach of the issue, and the scope of its impact. The messages ran from touching to down right funny. I am particularly fond of the "Save the Ta Ta's...." version. I was a supporter all the way back in college when I suggested our fraternity should offer free breast exams as a philanthropy project. The fact that I had no idea how the disease would impact my life should be obvious.
So, last weekend, along with a guesstimate of 8 thousand others, my Daughter-in-law, my Granddaughter, and my wife walked through the Pensacola downtown area to garner awareness and raise money for the various breast cancer society's. Why not, October was set aside as Breast cancer awareness month. Hard to miss when even watching NFL games it becomes obvious that the players are all wearing pink shoes, pink armbands, and even some pink mouth guards. Not exactly bad exposure for what is prominently thought of as a woman's issue
We had a "Decorate your bra..." event at the house. My granddaughter was so excited, it meant she got her first bra. She was not born when her Grandmother faced the darker more ominous side of the issue of the month.
After having cancer invade your life you are always aware. 20 years ago I do not ever remember the subject coming up...... well, there was one neighbor woman, but she survived. Looking back it is amazing how her ordeal made such little impact on my life. They lived right across the street, and they socialized with my parents often. I know she lost both breasts, (and just recently I discovered eventually the cancer took her life). There had to be radiation and chemo treatments. I do not remember anything but the eventual swelling of her arms (back then the removal of the lymphatic nodes was much more extensive than today...). Another example of how non aware a young man can be.
As I said, the medallion in the picture, and the pink ribbon both say survivor. They are Jeni's. Normally, one gets a ribbon for some demonstration of excellence. Placing in a relay race, or jumping higher than everyone else....... anything demonstrating "winning". At one time I suppose a survivor was to be seen that way. At one time "cancer" was almost the equivalent of a death sentence. We have come a long way, and the survival rates are much improved. Still, sometimes............ another mother, daughter, sister, wife or grandmother is taken. For some family there is no ribbons nor medals. Only loss. Unbelievable loss.
So, thankfully, the number of medalists is increasing. I mean that with all my heart. But they gave Jeni a medal for something that really failed to recognize why I think she deserves a medal. It is not surviving the cancer that made her special (surviving just means we were genetically lucky).
No, what makes her heroic in my book is how she faced her cancer. Facing ones mortality is always revealing. In our greatest challenges lies the seed for our greatest victory. Even if cancer had taken Jeni, she deserved a medal.
Not once did I see her indulge in self pity. No, not once did she ask "Why me?". Matter of fact, when others offered it for her I heard her respond "Why not me?". True courage in the face of death. She demonstrated real humor (and patiently suffered through my own attempts) while enduring endless bouts of nausea and the required medical torture. Facing the unknown with shoulders squared, and eyes bright and engaged. I imagine even the vaunted Light Brigade charging forward into the field of fire of enemy cannon faced it with no greater courage than Jeni. There is a country song that says it best..... Craig Morgan sang ".... and I thought I was tough..." I had no idea what that meant.
So, to the many women who wear medals saying "survivor", I offer a heartfelt "God bless and congratulations". Still, I suspect that to the family and loved ones who went through the experience with you, and for your sisters that somehow rolled craps when genes were divied out, the only medals we (your extended support group) think you need are the scars the disease left in our collective hearts. God, you are awesome. I/we salute you............................
Saturday, October 29, 2011
A note if I do not see tomorrow
I guess the need to return to this forum has finally asserted itself. After two years of getting ready for the final goodbye, and then another four months of trying to get others lives in order I find myself essentially caught up. Ready to return to work. Maybe even feeling a little................ "normal" (I suspect there may be many acquaintances who are saying "You, normal? That is an oxymoron of the greatest magnitude...."). But it is true. I have done more work around the house than I have done in years. I spent a goodly time this afternoon cutting brush. I just finished my yearly required at home study for ground school. I am not facing a "to do" list that requires more minutes than there are in a day. I am not feeling stressed. I am feeling................ Damn, I am not sure what I feel.
I was thinking of Dad again. I do that often. Sometimes he feels close, sometimes he feels beyond my perception. I imagine it must be much worse for my Mom. But, in the midst of the aforementioned deep reflection, I wondered if I have done as good a job communicating with those I love as Dad always did with me. There is little Dad and I left uncovered when it came to our life long dialog. I remember discussing many of the deeper revelations that he shared in discovering and defining his deeper truths. You know, the understandings as to why there is life. Or, what is the nature of God. The bedrock beliefs that the rest of our existence depends upon. Yes, I knew my Father's heart and soul that well. Wonder if that makes his not being at the other end of the phone easier or more difficult to live with?
Anyway, the initial reason for starting a blog was to try and find a deeper connection with those I love. Initially the focus was on Dad (whose diagnosis made it all the more critical to intensify the existing connections) and with Heather (the one into whom I have invested most all my belief in a future). I am thankful to say the hearts I have touched have exceeded those initial ones I targeted. Some I hoped to touch I missed completely....... is that not life?
So, after a lifetime of discussing most everything, I knew Dad more intimately than I have ever known anyone. Ever. I guess that is why I know he was ready to go. I am not saying he would not have liked to hang around a while longer. What I mean is that there was no big items on his bucket list. Life was great. He just felt accomplished.
I know Dad had no questions as to what he believed came next. I know where his faith was based. I am betting that some of his closest friends, men and women that he worshiped with regularly, might have been uncomfortable with a more in depth understanding of the full extent of Dad's understandings. His understandings were his own. Dad never would accept "It is written..." as reason enough to base something as life defining as a personal truth. Nope, he questioned. It was not till later in life that he found answers that fit his understandings. It is a testament to his persistence that after 6 decades he was still actively looking for answers. It is a further testament that he did not feel driven to push his truth on others.
Why do you think I suspect his fellow church goers might not have known what was in Dads heart? Well, cause I think several of them would have had difficulty accepting something other than the stock doctrine that they received all their church going lives. I sat in enough of their Sunday school lessons to know that Dad asked questions and offered insights that others often found "difficult". Those that loved him most did not care. It was obvious that Dad was at peace. That was enough. Dad was not one for really doing more than living his truth. It was not important to him to tell others his "truth". He believed in simply living it.
I know that several of the people who loved him shared their understandings of what life meant to them. I am almost positive that Dad did not fully reveal the same. Matter of fact, I do not know if Dad shared the full extent of his deeper understandings with anyone but me......... I suspect not even with Mom. He believed that the people in your life should be able to see your truth in how you live. In that I think he succeeded magnificently.
So, it occurs to me that now there is no one who knows the extent of what I hold as my truth. I think that is as it should be. I know my daughter thinks she knows much of what her Dad believes. In that assumption she may be more or less accurate. I suspect that her truths are still viewed through the prism of her deep relationship with Christian doctrine.
It is wonderful experience to witness how her belief system grows. She is actively involved in defining her belief system. I love and Cherish the fact that she shares many of the revelations with me. I have shared much with her, but the full extent of who and what I perceive? Nope. Why not? Good question.....
Perhaps because I know there is much distance between us. I know there was as much distance between Dad and I once. Life just carried Dad and I to the same place................ eventually. Maybe Heather and I will some day discover we are in the same place. Maybe not. It really doesn't matter. What does matter is we are wanting to get to the same place. A place of being at peace with our own personal understandings.
So, if you know me, if we have shared life and perhaps even love, then know that if we never exchange another word that I was at peace (and was deeply thankful) with whatever life brought my way.
That understanding comes straight from Dad..........
I was thinking of Dad again. I do that often. Sometimes he feels close, sometimes he feels beyond my perception. I imagine it must be much worse for my Mom. But, in the midst of the aforementioned deep reflection, I wondered if I have done as good a job communicating with those I love as Dad always did with me. There is little Dad and I left uncovered when it came to our life long dialog. I remember discussing many of the deeper revelations that he shared in discovering and defining his deeper truths. You know, the understandings as to why there is life. Or, what is the nature of God. The bedrock beliefs that the rest of our existence depends upon. Yes, I knew my Father's heart and soul that well. Wonder if that makes his not being at the other end of the phone easier or more difficult to live with?
Anyway, the initial reason for starting a blog was to try and find a deeper connection with those I love. Initially the focus was on Dad (whose diagnosis made it all the more critical to intensify the existing connections) and with Heather (the one into whom I have invested most all my belief in a future). I am thankful to say the hearts I have touched have exceeded those initial ones I targeted. Some I hoped to touch I missed completely....... is that not life?
So, after a lifetime of discussing most everything, I knew Dad more intimately than I have ever known anyone. Ever. I guess that is why I know he was ready to go. I am not saying he would not have liked to hang around a while longer. What I mean is that there was no big items on his bucket list. Life was great. He just felt accomplished.
I know Dad had no questions as to what he believed came next. I know where his faith was based. I am betting that some of his closest friends, men and women that he worshiped with regularly, might have been uncomfortable with a more in depth understanding of the full extent of Dad's understandings. His understandings were his own. Dad never would accept "It is written..." as reason enough to base something as life defining as a personal truth. Nope, he questioned. It was not till later in life that he found answers that fit his understandings. It is a testament to his persistence that after 6 decades he was still actively looking for answers. It is a further testament that he did not feel driven to push his truth on others.
Why do you think I suspect his fellow church goers might not have known what was in Dads heart? Well, cause I think several of them would have had difficulty accepting something other than the stock doctrine that they received all their church going lives. I sat in enough of their Sunday school lessons to know that Dad asked questions and offered insights that others often found "difficult". Those that loved him most did not care. It was obvious that Dad was at peace. That was enough. Dad was not one for really doing more than living his truth. It was not important to him to tell others his "truth". He believed in simply living it.
I know that several of the people who loved him shared their understandings of what life meant to them. I am almost positive that Dad did not fully reveal the same. Matter of fact, I do not know if Dad shared the full extent of his deeper understandings with anyone but me......... I suspect not even with Mom. He believed that the people in your life should be able to see your truth in how you live. In that I think he succeeded magnificently.
So, it occurs to me that now there is no one who knows the extent of what I hold as my truth. I think that is as it should be. I know my daughter thinks she knows much of what her Dad believes. In that assumption she may be more or less accurate. I suspect that her truths are still viewed through the prism of her deep relationship with Christian doctrine.
It is wonderful experience to witness how her belief system grows. She is actively involved in defining her belief system. I love and Cherish the fact that she shares many of the revelations with me. I have shared much with her, but the full extent of who and what I perceive? Nope. Why not? Good question.....
Perhaps because I know there is much distance between us. I know there was as much distance between Dad and I once. Life just carried Dad and I to the same place................ eventually. Maybe Heather and I will some day discover we are in the same place. Maybe not. It really doesn't matter. What does matter is we are wanting to get to the same place. A place of being at peace with our own personal understandings.
So, if you know me, if we have shared life and perhaps even love, then know that if we never exchange another word that I was at peace (and was deeply thankful) with whatever life brought my way.
That understanding comes straight from Dad..........
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Endings
Oh, the death of a loved one. Is there anything harder to deal with? I am of the opinion that there very well might be. See, as one who recently experienced (and am still actively involved in the aftermath) of the loss of a loved one, I am aware of a loss that is similar, that offers no real closure. A situation that seems to be little more than just a continuous ongoing open wound.
See, I know my loved one is gone. All who shared in the loss have gathered to honor his life. We shared memories and hugs. We shared mutual loss, and even grief. There is a finality to it (even if the surreal nature of our loved one no longer being there for regular interaction is still uncomfortable).
What about someone who has a loved one in whom they have invested themselves heart and soul and subsequently, through the actions and decisions of their loved one, the relationship has essentially died. What is a relationship other than a mutual decision to spend and invest time and caring in one another? What if the one you have shared so much suddenly makes decisions that you can not in good conscience support? Who we are is little more than the summation of our choices. It is entirely possible for any of us to become someone else. Whatever the "makeover" we desire, we are each individually the sole arbiter of "who we are." So, what about the individuals who have discovered that someone they love has decided to be someone they can no longer support?
It happens to everyone on some level. Whether an old friend, a son, a daughter, a sibling or spouse, we have all had someone we thought we "knew" suddenly exhibit traits that are foreign to the person we thought they were. If the faults are deep enough in their character it can result in the end of the relationship. When that happens we experience a "death". That person is not physically dead, but they are lost to those who loved them as surely as if we had dug a six foot hole and laid a slab of granite at one end. There is no ceremony, no gathering of friends to honor what was lost, and no closure. Since there is still life, there is some underlying assumption that things can somehow be "fixed"? Can such a thing be fixed?
Now, I know that love never dies. It doesn't. The love for the young man that grew up into a monster does not diminish. The love of the child is eternal...... as is the disgust with the adult. What can you offer to the individual that you know is suffering such a situation? The same platitudes as we might offer in the case of a death? Nahhhhhh, that would be silly and display a lack of sympathy that might cause even me to shudder. The strength of ones love in such circumstances is truly amazing to me. Almost universally there is still a desire that the one who has become estranged find happiness........ just somewhere else.
Is there any loss greater than the slow diminishing of confidence and affection in someone you truly counted on. My Grandmother used the phrase "I just gradually lost confidence in him." when discussing her relationship with my Grandfather. Is there a stronger condemnation? To hear that from a loved one might be the closest thing to hell I can imagine.
God bless those who have "lost" loved ones, especially those without closure.
See, I know my loved one is gone. All who shared in the loss have gathered to honor his life. We shared memories and hugs. We shared mutual loss, and even grief. There is a finality to it (even if the surreal nature of our loved one no longer being there for regular interaction is still uncomfortable).
What about someone who has a loved one in whom they have invested themselves heart and soul and subsequently, through the actions and decisions of their loved one, the relationship has essentially died. What is a relationship other than a mutual decision to spend and invest time and caring in one another? What if the one you have shared so much suddenly makes decisions that you can not in good conscience support? Who we are is little more than the summation of our choices. It is entirely possible for any of us to become someone else. Whatever the "makeover" we desire, we are each individually the sole arbiter of "who we are." So, what about the individuals who have discovered that someone they love has decided to be someone they can no longer support?
It happens to everyone on some level. Whether an old friend, a son, a daughter, a sibling or spouse, we have all had someone we thought we "knew" suddenly exhibit traits that are foreign to the person we thought they were. If the faults are deep enough in their character it can result in the end of the relationship. When that happens we experience a "death". That person is not physically dead, but they are lost to those who loved them as surely as if we had dug a six foot hole and laid a slab of granite at one end. There is no ceremony, no gathering of friends to honor what was lost, and no closure. Since there is still life, there is some underlying assumption that things can somehow be "fixed"? Can such a thing be fixed?
Now, I know that love never dies. It doesn't. The love for the young man that grew up into a monster does not diminish. The love of the child is eternal...... as is the disgust with the adult. What can you offer to the individual that you know is suffering such a situation? The same platitudes as we might offer in the case of a death? Nahhhhhh, that would be silly and display a lack of sympathy that might cause even me to shudder. The strength of ones love in such circumstances is truly amazing to me. Almost universally there is still a desire that the one who has become estranged find happiness........ just somewhere else.
Is there any loss greater than the slow diminishing of confidence and affection in someone you truly counted on. My Grandmother used the phrase "I just gradually lost confidence in him." when discussing her relationship with my Grandfather. Is there a stronger condemnation? To hear that from a loved one might be the closest thing to hell I can imagine.
God bless those who have "lost" loved ones, especially those without closure.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Hand prints on my heart
It is amazing to me just how temporary and fragile everything we (as in our species) seems to be. How long have people been on the earth? In a relatively short period of time after we are no more there will be little evidence of our ever having existed. Nature (life) will go on and hide or recycle any and all evidence that we have ever existed. There is a History channel program that deals with just such a scenario, and it predicts within a simple hundred years (a single human lifetime... albeit an exceptionally long one) there will be nothing but rubble to suggest that our civilization ever existed. In a scant 50 or so years the air will have recovered its pristine quality, and green will cover what were cities and highways. Seems amazing to me. That life could go on without humans, and that the whole of the world might actually be better off without us. That I find profoundly sad.
When you take the entire time period that we as a species have been identifiable as humans and compare it with the total time frame of what is, or even just the age of the earth itself, we somehow do not seem so important. Still, my heart tells me there is tremendous significance in each and every life. That there is something miraculous and even holy in each moment in every life. What we have collectively created may somehow fall far short of what we (at least in my humble opinion) are capable of is secondary to what each life has to offer. I know, deep stuff. Strange what might have led me to this series of observations.
This whole awareness of the fragility of our creations has come about because someone decided to paint a wall. I know, an explanation is in order.
For decades the front wall in the room set aside for the youth group in our church has been entrusted with a record of our little Church's legacy as treasured and important as anything the Smithsonian has within its halls. I know, a grand and over the top assessment, but true for those of us whose hearts were somehow encapsulated on that wall.
It has been a tradition that graduating seniors would dip their hands in paint and leave a hand print on that wall. They would sign next to their hand print, and maybe even leave a favorite bible verse or some other inscription. I have to admit from time to time (when no one might see me) to having walked into that room and solemnly to having placed my hand over the paint reflecting my daughters hand print. I know, silly, but it left me feeling close to her. I could again touch the memorys of that time, and the treasuring of who she was (and the knowledge as to whom she would become) all would wash over me. It was something tangible to touch and let carry me to a different time and place.
It was not just Heathers hand print, there were so many young faces that I/we watched grow up. When you saw their hand print and signature you remembered who they were, and marveled at who they have become. Yes, something tangible to bring you back to when they were perhaps a more intimate part of your life. I know, I am romanticizing. At the time there were certainly things that were troubling, or difficult. What I remember is just the good times. It never failed to reinforce the feeling that I was blessed by these young people.
So, someone totally unaware (blissfully ignorant) decided to paint over that wall. I have to admit an initial desire to inflict some form of terrible medieval retribution. Someone said the person did offer "Well, we took a picture of it...". Sure, that mediates everything. There is a part of me that dearly wants to offer "And we will take a picture of your more intimate body parts so you can remember them..". But, as satisfying as that might be, it will not return the solace I took in standing before that wall. I can still spend time with my daughter. I might still occasionally see some of the young adults who passed through my life and left hand prints on both the wall in the basement, and deep impressions on my soul. It's just a feeling that somehow something that offered something physical that tied me to a different time and place (a time that contained great significance, at least to me) is gone. Strange that a coat of paint can invoke such emotional baggage.
As with a simple loaf of bread, there is an expiration date for everything. It does not take away or diminish the value of what was. Guess I was blessed to have had it while it lasted.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Katelynn and the Airmuseum
Thank God for those wondrous special moments. The ones you eventually define your life by. They come unbidden, and all too often they slip by without our even knowing that something of import just happened. Occasionally a moment catches us when we are aware....
I am soon to travel to Turkey for an extended stay lasting a little over two weeks. I have been saving certain thoughts for future potential blogs (it seems writing about these issues might help the time go by during the days of excruciating boredom...... a man can play only so many games of free cell). However, todays observations are significant and can not wait. Today held one of those aforementioned moments, one I will lay down before my maker in reverence as my having known a moment that was holy. A moment that absolute and pure love was evident. As is almost always the case when in the presence of love, it left me both humbled and empowered. Let me share the experience.......
My granddaughters class was to travel to the air museum today. She had announced this to any and all in recent weeks. I was not sure I would be available, so I did not volunteer to be one of the adult escorts for the field trip. As her parents were both working, Katelynn would be going alone. As I later discovered I would in fact be free, I quite off handedly promised Katelynn I would be there for the time in the museum, if not the ride on the bus. I promised. As I have always wanted her to think of a promise from Pop as having come from a burning bush, I should have been more aware.
As I said I am leaving for Turkey soon, and in fact there is less than four days left before I leave home for what should be a trip of minimally 4 weeks duration. As I would think you could guess the list of things that must be addressed before leaving seems to be getting longer by the day. Add to that the self induced stress of trying to get a head start on any and all of the spring gardening chores that will be late if I wait till mid April to address them..... in short, I was living moment to moment, and was distracted (which is a kind way of saying I had my head so far up my own rectum as to have been oblivious to most anything not right in front of my nose...... a classic case of cranial/rectal inversion).
So, late last night I asked my wife what she had planned for today. She ran down her list, and somewhere in her listing of events, she mentioned Katelynn's trip. I had forgotten, and would have absentmindedly missed it. Realizing a realignment of priorities was in order, I got up early to be at the museum when it opened.
Katelynn and her classmates were not the first school group to arrive. Nor were they the second. I waited in the lobby for most of two hours. I was starting to doubt my information when I saw the buses from her school district arriving. When she walked through the door holding the student teachers hand she saw me....... there it was, written across her face. "Pop was here, he did not let me down." There was love in that face, and blind faith that had just been justified. A lifetime (at least the duration of hers) of being adamant about keeping promises was rewarded in an instant. Oh, I am thankful for the hug and love that she gives me, but I am even more thankful that I did not destroy a young hearts ability to have faith.
I know I came close to doing the unpardonable, and the awareness at just how easy it is to deeply hurt an innocent is not lost on this old mans consciousness. I dodged a bullet and was rewarded. I suspect my own version of hell could well be defined in what I perceive would have been on her face had I not been there. She told me she had been looking for me outside, and was almost in tears because she thought I was not going to be there. I know it meant something important to her............ and that means the world to me.
It makes me wonder; Katelynn's Aunt Heather has a most profound faith. Did I ever in ignorance or inattention manage to damage Heather's ability to have faith in someone she loves? Of course I can not put my finger on any such event, but if I was ignorant of it then, would I not be still enveloped in the comfort of my own ignorance? It is obvious that whatever failings I manifested, she certainly managed to overcome them. Still, it all makes me a little intimidated...... there are younger grandbabies that I hope to encourage to trust in love.
Thankfully I have no illusions that I am the only one offering lessons of love.......
I am soon to travel to Turkey for an extended stay lasting a little over two weeks. I have been saving certain thoughts for future potential blogs (it seems writing about these issues might help the time go by during the days of excruciating boredom...... a man can play only so many games of free cell). However, todays observations are significant and can not wait. Today held one of those aforementioned moments, one I will lay down before my maker in reverence as my having known a moment that was holy. A moment that absolute and pure love was evident. As is almost always the case when in the presence of love, it left me both humbled and empowered. Let me share the experience.......
My granddaughters class was to travel to the air museum today. She had announced this to any and all in recent weeks. I was not sure I would be available, so I did not volunteer to be one of the adult escorts for the field trip. As her parents were both working, Katelynn would be going alone. As I later discovered I would in fact be free, I quite off handedly promised Katelynn I would be there for the time in the museum, if not the ride on the bus. I promised. As I have always wanted her to think of a promise from Pop as having come from a burning bush, I should have been more aware.
As I said I am leaving for Turkey soon, and in fact there is less than four days left before I leave home for what should be a trip of minimally 4 weeks duration. As I would think you could guess the list of things that must be addressed before leaving seems to be getting longer by the day. Add to that the self induced stress of trying to get a head start on any and all of the spring gardening chores that will be late if I wait till mid April to address them..... in short, I was living moment to moment, and was distracted (which is a kind way of saying I had my head so far up my own rectum as to have been oblivious to most anything not right in front of my nose...... a classic case of cranial/rectal inversion).
So, late last night I asked my wife what she had planned for today. She ran down her list, and somewhere in her listing of events, she mentioned Katelynn's trip. I had forgotten, and would have absentmindedly missed it. Realizing a realignment of priorities was in order, I got up early to be at the museum when it opened.
Katelynn and her classmates were not the first school group to arrive. Nor were they the second. I waited in the lobby for most of two hours. I was starting to doubt my information when I saw the buses from her school district arriving. When she walked through the door holding the student teachers hand she saw me....... there it was, written across her face. "Pop was here, he did not let me down." There was love in that face, and blind faith that had just been justified. A lifetime (at least the duration of hers) of being adamant about keeping promises was rewarded in an instant. Oh, I am thankful for the hug and love that she gives me, but I am even more thankful that I did not destroy a young hearts ability to have faith.
I know I came close to doing the unpardonable, and the awareness at just how easy it is to deeply hurt an innocent is not lost on this old mans consciousness. I dodged a bullet and was rewarded. I suspect my own version of hell could well be defined in what I perceive would have been on her face had I not been there. She told me she had been looking for me outside, and was almost in tears because she thought I was not going to be there. I know it meant something important to her............ and that means the world to me.
It makes me wonder; Katelynn's Aunt Heather has a most profound faith. Did I ever in ignorance or inattention manage to damage Heather's ability to have faith in someone she loves? Of course I can not put my finger on any such event, but if I was ignorant of it then, would I not be still enveloped in the comfort of my own ignorance? It is obvious that whatever failings I manifested, she certainly managed to overcome them. Still, it all makes me a little intimidated...... there are younger grandbabies that I hope to encourage to trust in love.
Thankfully I have no illusions that I am the only one offering lessons of love.......
Saturday, January 29, 2011
LILLIE
Yesterday we had lunch with the mother of our youngest grandbaby. The circumstances of her conception were less than ideal, and my son is no longer a part of either the mother or daughters life (Amazingly, this is the third woman to have had a child with my son, and he is not really active in any of the children's day to day existence. I will refrain from commenting on just what a blessing I might think that is...) Still, no matter how difficult his road through life, and the total lack of responsibility he demonstrates, he must have great genetic material as his offspring are all beautiful. Shannon (Lillie's mother) had reached a decision that "too much love..." is an impossibility. So she asked if Gopper and Pop might like to meet and get to know their youngest grandbaby. We pondered deeply on this subject for all of maybe 5 seconds before anxiously let it be known we would love to love on another baby.
So we went to lunch, and visited, met Shannon and shared a little of who we think we are, and in general got to know one another. I got to give the baby a bottle, and she fell asleep on my chest. I am obviously hooked. I have never held a child that did not deeply touch my soul. Never. They are all precious to me. The experience never fails to illicit the deepest gratitude, and a quiet reverence. I do not remember feeling that way till my daughter was born. Becoming a Dad changed everything. I have never again heard a child cry that the experience was not deeply personal.
Lillie is a most friendly little one. Oh, she may have been smiling cause I have a funny face, or just because she is practicing moving facial muscles (come on, she is just a couple months old), but with each smile Gopper and I fawned. I did the inevitable. I put my little finger in her hand. As her little fingers gripped my little finger, she, as have her older siblings, grasped and took ownership of a part of my soul. She is welcome to it, and I give it freely. Please join me in giving thanks for another healthy and beautiful little girl. I promise to love her as much as my heart will allow. We were told she lacked for nothing, and we will do our best (as Grandparents are known to do) to ensure that she is perhaps just a little spoiled (my Grandmother insisted that none of us were spoiled, just "loved".)
Is she not precious................
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Mom and Dad
I think it is safe to say that everyone on earth has had two people involved in their conception (Duh), but I wonder at how many had good parents. You know, two people dedicated to the love, nurturing, and development of that child? Two people that not only love one another, but who are involved in who and what their children become. People who stay involved throughout the endless ups and downs of their children's lives.
I am reminded of a scene from a movie where an elderly man shares with his son that being a parent is not like the usual story where your child wins the big game and marries their sweetheart and lives happily ever after...... no. Life is harder than that. If you invest your heart into the life of another you voluntarily get on a roller coaster that lasts as long as you live. There is no great happy ending, it just goes on and on.... That is a big damned commitment.
So, I am the product of two very loving and involved parents. They both brought their own special skills to the upbringing of my self and my siblings. Mom was the more loving and nurturing, and certainly the more playful. Dad was the more disciplined, but in his role as the main distributor of corporal punishment, he also managed to instill a belief in justice and order. Dad was the more intellectually curious, the one challenging most any statement of absolutes. He often discussed issues from points of view I know he did not hold, perhaps just to ensure I knew there is always two sides to most any story. At one time I would swear he loved to argue just for the sake of arguing. Ever had the experience of looking back at something and seeing it in an entirely different light? Looking back at an evening discussing the days events as reported in the local paper, with the backdrop of a setting sun (which seemed to almost always be the time of day we had for such discussions) was more advantageous to the man I have become than any high school or college lecture. At the risk of offending any church going folks, I should include all but a handful of church sermons in that list of failed attempts to effectively alter my view of the world.
So, now, after 5 and a half decades of life it has suddenly become apparent (I know, I am a slow learner) that my parents are not permanent fixtures. I can not begin to relate the depths of consternation this has caused. Oh, rationally I have known they (and all of us) are finite. But knowing it, and experiencing it are two different things. I look in the mirror and see an old man. The stories I have heard about others who have grown older and do not recognize themselves are no longer quite so humorous.... matter of fact, as a great man once said "That's not a damned bit funny".
Guess it is always a matter of ones perspective. The difference between funny and a disaster is whether you are watching America's funniest home videos, or you are on Americas funniest home videos. I wonder if any of the thousands of folks who have had their genitals crushed on that show ever find watching the video near as funny as the rest of us?
So, if I am getting older, that must make my parents........ OLD? They don't look all that much older, or at least they don't sound any older, but how often do we look and really see? Truth is, the cancer that my father is so bravely enduring and fighting is having an effect. Age and it's effects are showing on Mom's short term memory. Oh, the long term memory is good, and we still enjoy Mom, and we can still manage to find humor, even as our frailties are starting to show. But under that is the realization that somewhere out there is the eventual inevitability of saying goodbye. And that is the big unsettling reality with which I am having trouble finding peace.
So, since I promised to be truthful, and this is after all an attempt to share what is in my heart, let me share (at least as best as I am able) what it is that I think I feel.
First, if I think of either Mom or Dad (since they are essentially a single entity in my life), the first thing I feel is love. Both from being loved, and returning the same. Mom has gotten into the habit when we offer our conversation ending "I love you" of jokingly offering "I love you more...". I suspect she does. I would have argued the point to my last breath until I had a child, or more recently grandchildren. I remember Dad saying "This hurts me more than it hurts you..." At the time I thought it was not only the dumbest thing ever uttered, but it was also an insult to my intelligence. Again, perspective changes everything. My Daughter has at one time or another been distressed, and I know it hurts me worse than it does her. When my granddaughter cries, my soul aches. I would eagerly and happily face a deliberate Americas funniest home video moment in exchange for them no longer suffering whatever it is that has caused them grief. There is no comparison. I will accept, as the one who entered in to a partnership with God in my creation, that my parents love me more than I could ever love them. That is, if you could actually compare such things.
After loved and loving, the next thing I feel is blessed. They are not just my parents, they are my friends. As good as I will ever know. Harry Chapin had a song that went "old friends, mean much more to me than new friends, they know where you are, and they know where you've been....." Who knows better the story of my life?
Any time spent in their company has been a blessing. The conversation flows over most any subject, and the exchange of ideas and values shared always has constituted one of life's special blessings. And always there is humor. Of all Gods blessings, there has always been an ability to find something to laugh about. Still, in the most difficult of times, they share humor. I hope they know one of the things I will miss most is our times being silly.
A feeling of being grounded. Whatever life offered, a call to Mom and Dad offered immediate grounding. Thankfully, as of late the need has not been so great to call and garner reassurances that all is OK. The only insurance policy I really ever thought I needed was the knowledge that Mom and Dad were there..... available. How ever will I face a world without them there? I know, selfish, but this is my attempt to ensure nothing has ever been left unsaid.
Surprisingly, I have no regrets. None. I think that should be a matter of comfort, but as I think of a world without them, it offers little solace. Just the knowledge that there will be an enormous void that only they filled.
I think what I am searching for, and as of yet have found elusive, is that feeling of peace. That all is well with the world. Most of my life (with few exceptions) I have felt that underlying peace. I have assumed it was based on faith. I am not exactly feeling that underlying peace at present, matter of fact, since I sat under an oak tree out in front of a hotel in Houston (on a warm summer evening) and heard Dad share that he had a cancer have I experienced that deep soul calming peace. Not even at Christmas, nor in the presence of our extended family. I have not known that deep sense that all is going according to plan in a long time. I wonder if this is a matter of my having a weak faith, or just borrowing trouble, or of having lost my way. Is there something left unsaid? As a world class motor mouth that is hard to believe.
On a cerebral level I believe that all life is good, and love wins. Therefore, on some level I know we can never really be parted, and that we are, and will always be, part of one another's existence.
I also know that there is a tendency to see our children as the little ones we nurtured. I know when I see my daughter, I not only see the woman she has become, but I also see the little girl I cherished. I suspect that even tho I am older, and a man past his prime, when my parents look at me they still see the little boy into which they invested so much of themselves. I think they might be right. I think the little boy still lives in there. As of late he is constantly tugging at my heart, looking up with tear filled bright blue eyes wondering if the world can ever be OK without Mommy and Daddy. He can not accept that the biggest man, and softest most loving woman, the cornerstones of his life, could ever leave him. As of yet, I don't know what to tell him.
I am reminded of a scene from a movie where an elderly man shares with his son that being a parent is not like the usual story where your child wins the big game and marries their sweetheart and lives happily ever after...... no. Life is harder than that. If you invest your heart into the life of another you voluntarily get on a roller coaster that lasts as long as you live. There is no great happy ending, it just goes on and on.... That is a big damned commitment.
So, I am the product of two very loving and involved parents. They both brought their own special skills to the upbringing of my self and my siblings. Mom was the more loving and nurturing, and certainly the more playful. Dad was the more disciplined, but in his role as the main distributor of corporal punishment, he also managed to instill a belief in justice and order. Dad was the more intellectually curious, the one challenging most any statement of absolutes. He often discussed issues from points of view I know he did not hold, perhaps just to ensure I knew there is always two sides to most any story. At one time I would swear he loved to argue just for the sake of arguing. Ever had the experience of looking back at something and seeing it in an entirely different light? Looking back at an evening discussing the days events as reported in the local paper, with the backdrop of a setting sun (which seemed to almost always be the time of day we had for such discussions) was more advantageous to the man I have become than any high school or college lecture. At the risk of offending any church going folks, I should include all but a handful of church sermons in that list of failed attempts to effectively alter my view of the world.
So, now, after 5 and a half decades of life it has suddenly become apparent (I know, I am a slow learner) that my parents are not permanent fixtures. I can not begin to relate the depths of consternation this has caused. Oh, rationally I have known they (and all of us) are finite. But knowing it, and experiencing it are two different things. I look in the mirror and see an old man. The stories I have heard about others who have grown older and do not recognize themselves are no longer quite so humorous.... matter of fact, as a great man once said "That's not a damned bit funny".
Guess it is always a matter of ones perspective. The difference between funny and a disaster is whether you are watching America's funniest home videos, or you are on Americas funniest home videos. I wonder if any of the thousands of folks who have had their genitals crushed on that show ever find watching the video near as funny as the rest of us?
So, if I am getting older, that must make my parents........ OLD? They don't look all that much older, or at least they don't sound any older, but how often do we look and really see? Truth is, the cancer that my father is so bravely enduring and fighting is having an effect. Age and it's effects are showing on Mom's short term memory. Oh, the long term memory is good, and we still enjoy Mom, and we can still manage to find humor, even as our frailties are starting to show. But under that is the realization that somewhere out there is the eventual inevitability of saying goodbye. And that is the big unsettling reality with which I am having trouble finding peace.
So, since I promised to be truthful, and this is after all an attempt to share what is in my heart, let me share (at least as best as I am able) what it is that I think I feel.
First, if I think of either Mom or Dad (since they are essentially a single entity in my life), the first thing I feel is love. Both from being loved, and returning the same. Mom has gotten into the habit when we offer our conversation ending "I love you" of jokingly offering "I love you more...". I suspect she does. I would have argued the point to my last breath until I had a child, or more recently grandchildren. I remember Dad saying "This hurts me more than it hurts you..." At the time I thought it was not only the dumbest thing ever uttered, but it was also an insult to my intelligence. Again, perspective changes everything. My Daughter has at one time or another been distressed, and I know it hurts me worse than it does her. When my granddaughter cries, my soul aches. I would eagerly and happily face a deliberate Americas funniest home video moment in exchange for them no longer suffering whatever it is that has caused them grief. There is no comparison. I will accept, as the one who entered in to a partnership with God in my creation, that my parents love me more than I could ever love them. That is, if you could actually compare such things.
After loved and loving, the next thing I feel is blessed. They are not just my parents, they are my friends. As good as I will ever know. Harry Chapin had a song that went "old friends, mean much more to me than new friends, they know where you are, and they know where you've been....." Who knows better the story of my life?
Any time spent in their company has been a blessing. The conversation flows over most any subject, and the exchange of ideas and values shared always has constituted one of life's special blessings. And always there is humor. Of all Gods blessings, there has always been an ability to find something to laugh about. Still, in the most difficult of times, they share humor. I hope they know one of the things I will miss most is our times being silly.
A feeling of being grounded. Whatever life offered, a call to Mom and Dad offered immediate grounding. Thankfully, as of late the need has not been so great to call and garner reassurances that all is OK. The only insurance policy I really ever thought I needed was the knowledge that Mom and Dad were there..... available. How ever will I face a world without them there? I know, selfish, but this is my attempt to ensure nothing has ever been left unsaid.
Surprisingly, I have no regrets. None. I think that should be a matter of comfort, but as I think of a world without them, it offers little solace. Just the knowledge that there will be an enormous void that only they filled.
I think what I am searching for, and as of yet have found elusive, is that feeling of peace. That all is well with the world. Most of my life (with few exceptions) I have felt that underlying peace. I have assumed it was based on faith. I am not exactly feeling that underlying peace at present, matter of fact, since I sat under an oak tree out in front of a hotel in Houston (on a warm summer evening) and heard Dad share that he had a cancer have I experienced that deep soul calming peace. Not even at Christmas, nor in the presence of our extended family. I have not known that deep sense that all is going according to plan in a long time. I wonder if this is a matter of my having a weak faith, or just borrowing trouble, or of having lost my way. Is there something left unsaid? As a world class motor mouth that is hard to believe.
On a cerebral level I believe that all life is good, and love wins. Therefore, on some level I know we can never really be parted, and that we are, and will always be, part of one another's existence.
I also know that there is a tendency to see our children as the little ones we nurtured. I know when I see my daughter, I not only see the woman she has become, but I also see the little girl I cherished. I suspect that even tho I am older, and a man past his prime, when my parents look at me they still see the little boy into which they invested so much of themselves. I think they might be right. I think the little boy still lives in there. As of late he is constantly tugging at my heart, looking up with tear filled bright blue eyes wondering if the world can ever be OK without Mommy and Daddy. He can not accept that the biggest man, and softest most loving woman, the cornerstones of his life, could ever leave him. As of yet, I don't know what to tell him.
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