Tag: Grandkids

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And Here We Are

So, I was cruising through the Jewels the other day, picking up a few things, one of which being body wash. I had many varieties? Blends? Styles? Types? Kinds? Yeah, maybe kinds, from which to choose. I mean of the brand I like. And Jesus, when did shopping for body wash become like shopping for wine? Have you ever really stopped and looked at the aisle full of cleaning products for your body? It’s staggering. So, when the maker of my brand apparently decided to drop my preferred kind (kind still doesn’t sound quite right) I was left with a quandary. I mean, of course, getting clean is the primary target. But I’d kinda like to smell nice too, right? I don’t think that’s a crazy request, either for myself, or for others that may end up in close proximity to me. Now, a complicating factor, for me anyway, is the inability to smell much of anything. The result of having polyps removed, twice, about twenty years ago, so I can’t tell how pleasant or unpleasant a blend might be. So, when I looked at the label of one and saw “Dark Pomegranate and Sandalwood scent” I thought two things…

A.) Do I want to smell like a candle? and…

B.) Oooooooh pomegranate!

Don’t judge me.

In case you missed it, I kinda buried the lede up there, I’m back in Illinois. It’s baseball/softball/dance recital/graduation season and I thought it might be fun to surprise the fam by getting in early. Mission accomplished, btw! Now if Mother Nature would only cooperate. Not likely, right? Although I suppose it’s only fair that Illinois weather should return to crap within days of my arrival.

#LillyNO was again a trooper on the road trip home, she slept on the back seat (in her new car harness) the whole trip with not one peep out of her. So that’s also a win. Speaking of troopers (see what I did there?) I thought for sure I’d gotten nailed by radar in Ohio, just west of Dayton. Traffic had been pretty great until I got to the Greater Dayton Area and then it started significantly sucking. Or maybe sucking significantly. Either way. So when I got up on I-70 westbound I tried to get around a particularly aggravating cluster of knuckleheads. And as I got up to cruising speed, I noticed an Ohio Highway Patrol squad sitting on the shoulder with the trooper shooting radar. As soon as I saw him, he dropped the speed gun and got into his car, lighting it up. I muttered something (fun fact: I don’t know how many words #LillyNO understands, but she has figured out eff bombs aren’t happy words…) and moved into the right lane, anticipating I’d need to pull over. Much to my relief, he pulled in behind a Jeep Cherokee a couple cars behind me, so, Yay Me! I waited a couple miles out of courtesy and then got back on it. The miserability factor of the traffic flow however, continued past Indianapolis. Pretty much until I got off the Interstate at Remington and hit two lane roads the remainder of the drive home. That adds time to the trip, no doubt, but traveling through northwestern Indiana and through the south/southwest/west suburbs is so hit-or-miss I try and avoid it. In perfect conditions it’s probably 60-90 minutes faster than the two lane route, but conditions there are rarely perfect, at least not at the time of day I typically go through there. So I choose to preserve what little sanity I have left.

It’s almost like Mother Nature is reading over my shoulder (which, I’m told, is rude af btw) because looking out the window I can see that Winter Storm WTF (not it’s real name. I don’t think.) has descended upon northern Illinois. And apparently #LillyNO is as done with winter as I am. She’s whining to go outside yet, both times I’ve tried to let her out, she refuses to set foot out into the snow/sleet/whatever the heck it’s doing at the moment. I hope she’s not holding out for sunshine, her bladder isn’t that strong. But then, who’s is? She’s now going back and forth, from front door to back door, only to find it’s doing the same thing at each stop.

This may get interesting…

Peace

PS- Because, well, you know, we’re now 0 for 3.

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Strange Bedfellows

Ahem.

*Takes careful aim, steps squarely on a sensitive anatomical part*

Sorry for the visual, but you were just taken back a few hours to my morning.  I was getting ready to get in the shower and a couple of streams of thought started coursing through my brain.  Now, the logical thing to do would have been for me to reach approximately 3.4 feet to my right, pick up my phone and write a note to myself, documenting my thoughts, so that when I sat down at the keyboard I could refresh my memory and take off on a really stellar production for you fine people.  I, however, chose not to do that.  So you’re left with whatever post-election detritus is bouncing between synapses.  My bad.

So, let’s start with this.  I was kinda watching the election results, both here, back home, and nationally.  I don’t know if “both” is being used correctly there, btw.  It feels to me like it should only be used for two items and not more than that.  But I’m sticking with it, so obvs I’m not that bothered by it.  Anyway, I was glad to see most of the results back home.  A little disappointed the State Rep that covers a large portion of DG lost.  True, he’s a Republican (pro-tip, I’m not) but he has proven himself in a very short time to be a huge supporter of ours (the fire service) and I know the guys from Local 3234 were out working on his behalf.  Yes, I’m a Democrat and I typically want Dems to win, but David had our backs and I’m sorry to see him go.  That is a regular post-election occurrence though, for the politically active.  New contacts must be made, newfound respect must be earned, and groundwork must be laid for the future of the working relationship.  I know the guys from 3234 are up to that task, they recognize the value in it.  Continuing the theme, many of the races from my old home county went south for my side.  I think the Dems picked up a couple of seats on the County Board, which is huge, but I was sorry to see a friend of mine, a guy I met through the party up there, and one I have mad respect for, was narrowly beaten out.  Keep fighting the good fight Carlos.  Also, another friend lost on her State Senate race.  Same thing for you Mary, I have crazy respect for what you do, please don’t stop fighting.

Meanwhile, here in central North Carolina, the Blue Wave crashed headlong into a Red brick wall.  I haven’t seen the results from the county races yet, but based on the state and national races, as well as some referenda, things don’t even look purple, you know?  Ok, I just GTS’d and confirmed my hunch, my county continues to be hard Red.  That’s ok, no regerts (not a typo, just a subtle attempt at humor) here.  Besides, I knew pretty much what I was getting into when I chose this area.  Following the old axiom “Be the change you want to see” may well be me moving forward.

In other news; the Heir To The Throne voted for the first time ever, and on his first eligible election no less!  So, yeah, I’m pretty proud of him for that.  He’s doing better than I did.  I missed voting for Jimmy Carter by less than a week.  Well, probably more like a month since Illinois didn’t have Election Day registration back then, but still.  I don’t remember my first ballot, but I vividly recall voting against St. Ronnie of Reagan in 1980, and everything he stood for.  I also remember sitting at the bar, in what is no longer a bar but actually a really nice restaurant, drowning my sorrows that night watching the results pour in.  (Ha!  No pun intended…)  My friend Jim and I were, of course, the only two “godless liberals” in the joint, don’t think that wasn’t annoying.  Not annoying enough, of course, to stir my inner activist to life.  That part didn’t come along for many years, more than it should have.

To avoid turning this into a totally political screed, here’s a completely random side note; do any of you out there know anything about opening up/running a bookstore?  I found myself in one in Chapel Hill a couple of weeks back, the first time I’d been in a real bookstore since I’d frequented the one back home in Woodstock.  It was such a cool vibe.  If it wasn’t an hour plus from here I’m pretty sure I’d be spending a regular amount of time there.  No such place exists here.  Tbh, I’m not sure this town could support it, what with the population (and, frankly, the populace) but that seems like it might be a pretty sweet retirement gig, you know?

Alright, one last thing.  I want to take a couple of minutes here to encourage you to subscribe to this fine piece of literariousity (not a real word) by clicking on the “SUBSCRIBE” button on either the mobile app or your desktop display.  I was chatting with the Great Vincenzo the other day, whining to him about how few readers I seem to be getting lately.  I don’t blame any of you, but rather the analytics that social media uses.  I’ve been finding my sanity to be much easier to maintain by not spending as much time on FB, IG, and the Twitterz.  On the flip side, my lack of random posting also drives down anything I do post, which pretty much consists of links to this place.

So, here’s a couple of photos, with really bad graphics inserted by yours truly, pointing out where to subscribe.  This first one shows the “SUBSCRIBE” button if you read me on your laptop/desktop.  It’s really pretty easy to find, as it’s directly to the right of the post as you read it.  Literally the second item down on the right hand side of the page.

This next one is if you read this on your mobile device.  It’s a little harder to find as you need to scroll down past the end of the post to find it, unless I can figure out how to get back in to the display settings for mobile readers, in which case I’ll relocate it so it’s easier to find.  At any rate, scroll down until you see the section I have highlighted and click on the button.  It’s pretty simple.  Just for clarity’s sake, if you subscribe you’ll get an email notification whenever I post something.  Currently I’ve got 15 subscribers, for whom I’m eternally grateful.  Btw, if any of you subscribers want to pop in to the comment section and sing the praises of your subscription, I’m totally cool with that too.  Not tryna put undue stress on anyone, but hey, help a brother out, ya know?

So, I lied about the one last thing part, there’s also this before I go…  If you voted yesterday (or if you early voted like I did) thank you!

If you didn’t vote, really?  wtf?

Peace

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Life with Lilly Episode 3 – Road Trip!

This is actually a two-fer, since I just snuck in a second trip this past weekend, but let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Lilly is now an experienced traveler and she was an absolute trooper during the trip back to Illinois.  We got off to a rocky start, she began whining after about 45 minutes in the car, we weren’t even out of North Carolina yet, so I dutifully pulled off onto an entrance ramp so she could go potty.  We walked around and she sniffed for every bit of 15-20 minutes before I determined it to be a false alarm.  We got back in the car and drove to Beckley, WV for a break.  We stayed for about an hour and she not only didn’t really eat anything, she never did her business.  She did however meet a charming young Jack Russell terrier from Reno, NV. named Tank.  His human drove a tanker truck so…  He was her first doggy bud, and once they each got over the initial shock of meeting another puppy, they were besties.

A couple of hours up the road, in  Middleofnowhere, OH (not its actual name) Lilly started to whine again and this time she meant it.  I found an exit and pulled off on the entrance side and within minutes she had emptied everything she had carried with her to that point.  We made it to our hotel, checked in and hauled our stuff up to the room when I realized I’d forgotten something down in the car.  We headed back down and as we turned the corner in the hallway I saw a woman with two large dogs, a Golden Retriever and another similar sized dog.  I hesitated since Lilly hasn’t got much experience with other dogs (Tank notwithstanding) but thought since the woman didn’t say anything, her dogs must be social.  I was watching Lilly to make sure she was acting appropriately when the Golden got off its collar and charged at Lilly growling.  She cowered back into an alcove and I stepped in between the two kneeing the Golden away and telling it “NO!”.  The lady grabbed her dogs and pulled him away and never once said anything about the incident.  Nothing.  Shame on me for assuming someone could control their dog, I guess.  Had she told me her dog might be a jerk I would’ve picked Lilly up or something until they’d passed.  Oh well.  Lilly forgot about it in seconds and was proudly prancing back down the hall to the elevator.

In addition to her first time experiencing a jerk of a dog, and riding the elevator, this was the first time #LillyNO saw her own image.  The hotel room had a closet with full-length mirrors for doors.  Let’s just say hilarity ensued…

Day two was pretty uneventful.  Another false alarm in Middleofnowhere, IL (also not its real name, but equally fitting) where we sniffed around a bean field for fifteen minutes, but that was it.   We met the Great Vincenzo for coffee in Yorkville and he and Lilly hit it off great.  She also attracted attention from almost every female patron that walked up.  I think he wanted to borrow her for the day after that… just kidding… kinda…

Now, traveling several hundred miles like I do on these trips there are many rivers to cross (shout out to Jimmy Cliff) including… YES! my favorite, the French Broad River!  Of course that didn’t come until my second trip (I’ll get to that in a little bit) but this thought occurred to me while driving through Indiana.  I can’t, it seems, drive through Indiana without thinking about French Lick, Indiana.  No, really, that’s the name of the town.  Who the heck thought that was a good name for a town?  French Lick is the home of NBA legend Larry Bird btw, and I think it’s also got a highly regarded resort there.  But I can’t get past the name, you know?  If you know me IRL, you know where my mind wanders when I think about  the name.  So, exhaustive research (I GTS’d it, natch) produced this.  It’s named after mineral springs in the area.  Kind of a let down, for me anyway.

But back to my travels.  And the reason behind them.  The Little Diamond and the Heir To The Throne each had a birthday, yay!  LD became a threenager (boy did she ever, lol) and HTTP is now *checks math, looks in mirror, sighs* 18. Eightfrickinteen!  How on earth did that happen?  That’s a rhetorical question, btw.  I know how it happened.  I just have a hard time believing I have an 18-year-old grandson.

All in all, I had a great visit home.  I didn’t see a lot of family, though I stayed with the Boy Child and PhojoMama™ and their family which was a delight.  It also produced, quite possibly, one of my favorite pictures.  As you can see here, #LillyNO struck up a quick but strong bond with the grandchild formerly known as Beatle Baby who at one point leaned over and looked the puppy in the eyes and said “Lilly, you’re the best dog EVER!”  Instant heart melt.  And I can assure you, she feels the same way about him.  He read to her, played with her, cuddled with her, and generally enjoyed her company.  If it hadn’t been for the high quotient of chewable things that she shouldn’t be chewing on, I think she would have slept with him while we stayed there.

I was able to meet with a couple different friends for coffee, always a plus and in both cases entirely pleasant.  Lilly also met some of the guys at the firehouse that Sunday when we went in for Sunday brunch.  Chef Bob once again delivered an excellent meal, biscuits and gravy that would pass muster at any of the fine Southern establishments I’ve discovered since I retired.  One of the guys that I used to work with always commented how we should raffle off a chance to dine with us since Sunday brunch at the firehouse is a pretty awesome experience.  I agree, it would be a great revenue stream for the village.  #LillyNo seemed to have an innate understanding of the ideal way to address a Sunday at the firehouse.  She settled into that spot and slept soundly, only picking her head up when the tones dropped and the fellas went out on a run.  She wasn’t quite sure what to make of all the commotion, but then that’s not at all an uncommon response to waking up to the tones.  We stopped back in a couple of days later to drop something off for one of the fellas and, after saying hello to the guys working that day, quickly resumed her favorite pose in her favorite position.  Aaahhh, life at the firehouse can be so taxing.  One must get one’s rest when one can, you know?

The return trip home was uneventful, thankfully.  #LillyNO was again a real trooper, spending most of the trip sleeping in her crate on the floor behind me. Most of her random whining was put to rest by me reaching back and putting my fingers into her crate.  I don’t know if that reassured her or what, but she would quickly settle down and go back to sleep whenever I did that.

I was home for about five days and then, leaving #LillyNO in the care of my neighbor, I headed out to Chattanooga, TN for a music festival.  I met a couple of guys from the firehouse there and we had an amazing time.  A little rain, but there was only one brief delay in the music.  Chattanooga is a pretty cool town I think.  Although when our Uber driver at one point advised us that “We took back downtown” was the root cause behind any resurgence there, it caused us all to wonder when Chattanooga had been occupied, by what invading nation, and why we hadn’t heard about the conflict on the news.

One other thing that made me chuckle was on Sunday morning, as we were walking back in to the festival.  There was a man and a woman standing on a street corner by the entrance, each holding a sign advising us we should repent our sins or some similar message.,, The man, using a bullhorn, was calling out festival goers, telling them to change the error of their ways.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I think organized religion is a fine thing and I know many people who have deep, spiritual roots and find great comfort in their faith.  And I’m absolutely fine with that.  But I had to laugh when, an hour or so later the skies opened up and poured rain, chasing the proselytizers down the street for cover, while the fest patrons stood enjoying the music.  I guess Jesus didn’t approve of their message…

I also saw what may well be a copyright infringement of me.  This shirt – worn by a fellow music lover made me do a double take and prompted the picture.  My only regret is not posing with the guy for the sake of comparison.  I guess I should point out here that, the Boy Child, the fruit of my loins for Chrissakes, refers to me as “Doc Brown”.  That, of course, is the Christopher Lloyd character from the “Back To The Future” movies.  I asked the guy where he got the shirt and he said some random t-shirt shop in Florida.  I found that part odd, since it says “Myrtle Beach, SC” on it, but whatevs, right?  It’s still a classic and if I can find one, I will purchase it.  Doc Brown, my ass…

I guess that just about covers my travels for the last few weeks.  Quick Hurricane Florence update while I’ve got you… We got a little over four inches of rain yesterday.  I think up to that point we were at about an inch and a half, so yesterday was pretty wet.  No flooding near me to report, as hurricanes go, this was a good one to get my, ummm, feet wet on…  #seewhatIdidthere #sorrynotsorry.  This one turned a little more wordy than usual, but I had a lot to say so, ya know, stuff happens.

And, as Rod Stewart says “Every picture tells a story, donut”

Peace

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Twelve and Three

I debated with myself whether to do this today or not.  And I won.  And, I guess since it was with myself, I lost too.  It remains to be seen if you think I made the right choice or not.  Here goes…

Twelve years ago was very likely the worst day of my life.  The day Diane died.  Now, astute readers may recall me mentioning that that happened back in June.  That’s because occasionally, I’m an idiot.  The date in June was actually our wedding anniversary, not the anniversary of her death.  That faux pas would have cost me big time (rightly so) had I screwed up an anniversary while she was alive.

Three years ago was among the best days of my life as we welcomed the youngest of my five grandkids, the Little Diamond, into the world.  I wrote about this a couple years ago, in the aftermath of LD’s first birthday, the emotional turmoil I felt, albeit briefly.  We just FaceTimed (a wonderful bit of technology) so I could see her on her actual birthday and I’m heading home for a week, leaving in a few days, but I wanted to see her on her special day.  I know Diane would be thrilled with our grandkids.  And she would spoil them unrelentingly, and support them unhesitatingly, as any grandma should.  But it wasn’t meant to be.

While I have things to say, I chose instead to leave it at this and finish it with an excerpt from what I’ve been working on, this time from Diane’s stay in the hospital.  I may close it with pictures, I haven’t decided yet.

I went into Diane’s room, for what felt like the hundredth time since I tried to get some sleep.  She had almost constant nursing care due to the fragility of her condition.  I don’t remember who was there on the overnight shift.  I remember Dani, Manny, Laura, and Missy, but I know there were so many more.  The perfusionists too, Paul is the name that sticks in my mind.  These people were with her around the clock, working their butts off for all of their patients.  I don’t think I could ever express my thanks to them enough.  

There wasn’t much I could do except hold her hand and talk softly to her.  I know there have been studies done that relate how comatose patients can hear even though they can’t respond.  I was banking on that.  Talking to Diane about everything I could think of.  Telling her how much fun we were going to have with Elliott and our new grandson, just born in April, Damian. 

As Saturday morning turned into afternoon, the CCU waiting area started to fill with friends and family.  And again, the staff there was incredible.  They brought us food, made sure the coffee machine was full, in short just went out of their way (it seemed to me) to make sure we were as comfortable as we could be given the circumstances.  And I went back into “shuttle” mode just as I had when Caitlin was in the hospital.  I knew I could go in and be with Diane pretty much whenever I wanted, day or night, so I thought I should defer to friends and family that came to visit.  And this way Cassi could spend as much time at her Mom’s bedside as she wanted.  I shuttled people back-and-forth from the waiting room to Diane’s room.  By this time I’d already gotten to be on a first name basis with the nurses caring for her and they did a great job of keeping us informed of her progress.  

Or lack of progress.  By Saturday evening one of the nurses told me they thought Diane’s kidneys had shut down.  She had stopped producing urine.  The cardiac surgeon stopped in late Saturday night and we talked, for a while.  I told him about our family, about what happened to Caitlin and tried to explain to him how important the relationship between Diane and her daughters was.  He told me, in no uncertain terms, the seriousness of Diane’s condition.  He said in addition to her kidneys shutting down, her brain didn’t appear to be functioning.  

I understood.  Whether I had been conscious of it or not, whether I was willing to admit it or not, I could see her deteriorating.  I’m sure I wasn’t completely prepared to accept that she wasn’t improving.  And yet, I distinctly remember telling her; when we were alone, after I spoke to the doctor, that I got it.  That I knew she loved all of us.  And that I knew, more than anything, that she missed Caitlin.

So, yeah, I understood.  But I needed the doctor to understand too.  And I told him, how important it was to me that Cassi knew we did everything possible for Diane.  She’d already lost her only sister.  I needed her to know that everything that could possibly be done for her Mother was going to be done.  And he agreed.  He scheduled a consultation with a neurologist for the morning.  

The kids were waiting for me in the family waiting room that we had commandeered.  They knew I was speaking with the surgeon.  So I told them what the plan was.  The neurologist was coming in at 9:00 in the morning to examine Diane.  

We all settled in for the night.  I went back out to the main waiting area, ironically enough for privacy.  Actually, since it was well after hours I had it all to myself.  I settled in to my lounge chair and started reading “Marley and Me” again.  I was getting close to the end, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight so I figured I could finish the book by morning.  I really enjoyed it to this point.  As I said, there were many similarities between Marley and our pup Sophie.  But the more I read, the closer to the end of the book I got, the more obvious it was to me how it was going to end.  I had to put the book down.  I just felt like I was certain Marley was getting to a point where I didn’t think he wasn’t going to be around at the end of the book.  And I had to stop reading.  I was getting too emotional to finish it.  Too many parallels between the book and what we were going through with Diane.  I put the book down and haven’t picked it up since.  It’s at home, somewhere.  Maybe on the shelf in her closet, I’m not sure.  I still haven’t seen the movie either.  And I won’t.  I mean, I heard it was well done; I just don’t have any desire to re-live that night.  I’m afraid that movie will do just that.

So I paced.  And I went in to sit with Diane.  I talked to her.  I talked to God.  I cried.  A lot.  It was my time for it.  The kids weren’t there; I didn’t have to put up a front of being strong, so I could let my emotions go where they would.  I knew there were huge differences in Diane’s condition.  In addition to what the doctor and I talked about, I could see the physical changes in her appearance. 

 And I noticed that instead of two nurses, like she’d had Friday overnight, there was only one.  

I was up before the sun again on Sunday morning; actually it was well before the sun.  I know I slept a little, but Saturday night into Sunday morning was a repeat of the previous night.  I finally got up for good, rolled up the blanket I had used, went into the back and got a cup of coffee.  Ryan joined me outside the entrance to the CCU a little after 6:00 AM.  As we sat there, making idle chit-chat, Dr. V, Diane’s cardiac surgeon, came in to do his rounds.  He was carrying a couple boxes of doughnuts for the staff.  I made a joke about him drumming up business.  He laughed and said he liked to do little things like this for the nursing staff since they all worked so hard to make the doctors look good.  I thought it was a pretty stand up move for someone that didn’t need to do it.  

Around 9:00 AM the neurologist came in for a consult.  We left Diane’s room so she could be examined.  A little while later the neurologist came out to talk to me.  She said she didn’t see any evidence of brain activity.  She said she couldn’t say Diane was “brain-dead” (a phrase I’ve grown to despise as you might imagine) because she had to do two distinct tests, separated by time.  

The rest of Sunday is kind of a blur.  There were many visitors; family members, and friends, trying their best to keep our spirits up.  I think we probably put up a good front, at least I’d like to think we did, but I’m not sure we pulled it off entirely.  I remember being in shuttle mode again several times over the course of the day.  I also remember thinking how noticeable the changes were now in Diane’s appearance.  Her face was starting to retain fluid, she looked puffy.  

When I had some time alone with her, I leaned in close and whispered to her, “It’s ok honey, I understand.  I love you and I’ll miss you forever, but I know you need to be with Caitlin again.  It’s ok.”  I had that “conversation” with her several times over the next 18 hours or so.  

It’s funny, as I’d looked at the weather forecast for the weekend; I thought Sunday afternoon would’ve been a good time to bring Sophie to visit Diane.  We could’ve sat in the outdoor courtyard right outside the Cardiac Care Unit and Diane could’ve showed off Sophie to everyone and anyone that showed an interest.  She was really pleased with what she accomplished with Sophie through their training.  She loved socializing Sophie around as many people as she could.  And Sophie ate up the attention.  But now, with the way things had turned, bringing the dog over was the last thing on my mind. 

As Sunday at the Cardiac Care Center progressed, we saw many people from across all of our various phases of life.  Family, both hers and mine, coworkers from jobs both current and past, and so many friends.  Once again, I was in shuttle mode between Diane’s bedside and one or the other of the waiting rooms.  And, once again, the staff was doing their best to make things as pleasant for us as they possibly could.  But as the day wore on, Diane’s condition spiraled down.  The kids did their best to take host pressures off of me, and it helped.  But we were all in the middle of the juggling act of keeping our best appearances up for the visitors while trying to get our heads wrapped around what was happening before our eyes.

This is an easy picture to post, from one of our best days after Caitlin was killed.  The Quiet Child’s wedding reception held in our back yard.

Obviously we had no clue what the future would bring, but this day, in particular, helped remind us that life still provided us with some good days.  And that, among those good days, you sometimes get visited by butterflies…

Peace

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For An Amazing Young Woman

Today, we should have celebrated Caitlin’s 33rd birthday.  I often wonder, as the Kenny Chesney (that’s right, I like both kinds of music, Country and Western) song says “Who You’d Be Today”.  As I wrote last year on the old site, our family looks to commit Random Acts of Kindness to honor her memory.  That helps with the day, it truly does.  And, of course, it’s always a good idea to be kind, but it just feels like the right way to honor such an amazing young woman, taken from us too soon.

The anger from that time, I think it is safe to say, has finally gone.  It took probably longer than it should have, and I don’t know, maybe not speaking about the events of that day (and the weeks, months, and years that followed it) regularly at Victim Impact Panels has finally allowed it to leave me once and for all.  I don’t know if that’s it, but that’s just the first thing that popped in my head as I realized I didn’t feel the rage (probably too strong a word but whatevs) rising in me.

The old saying goes; time heals all wounds.  But the truth, as Rose Kennedy said is more along these lines “It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”  As the matriarch of the Kennedy clan, she knew a thing or two about grieving, so I give her words a lot of weight.  She was right.  

Back to the opening paragraph; I wonder how our lives would be different had Caitlin lived.  I think I’ve mentioned here before, I keep in touch with some of her bff’s and now, fifteen years removed from the crash, they all have their own places in the world, many are married and some have children of their own.  

Would Caitlin?  

Even though Diane had an underlying and undiscovered cardiac issue, would she still be alive today?  I’ve always believed the stress from Caitlin’s death was a key contributing factor to her death.  And that without the loss of her youngest child, she would still be with us.  I think, from time-to-time, of how over the moon Diane would be with all of the grandkids.  How excited she would be (and how vocal, lol) at the Heir To The Throne’s baseball games, how fascinated she would be by the Boy Genius’ science and computer projects,  how she would be enthralled by the former Beatle Baby’s knowledge of all things Skylander, and how absolutely giddy she would be organizing a shopping trip for the Reigning Princess and the Little Diamond.  

I have a feeling I would have had to put off my retirement to bankroll those shopping trips, lol.  And there’s a really good chance I wouldn’t be in central North Carolina now.  My feeling is that she would have vetoed being that far away from the littles.  Although she did love summer and summer here is so much more, uhhh, summer-y.  

This week (this month, actually) tends to bring up thoughts such as these.  In addition to it being Caitlin’s birthday today, my Dad’s would have been the 6th, and the Oldest One’s is tomorrow.  And the 12th is the anniversary of Diane and I getting married.  So, yeah, my mind tends to wander in this direction this week more than any other.  And doing something along the lines of a RAoK helps me to keep my emotional shit together.

So, here’s my suggestion.  Actually I guess it’s more of a request.  Go out today and commit a Random Act of Kindness.  If you choose to do it anonymously, that’s cool.  If you choose to explain that you’re doing it in the memory of an amazing young woman, that’s cool too.  But if you do it, please come back here and leave a note, either on the social media that brought you here or in the comments section below, and let everyone know what you did and if you had any interaction with the recipient, what was their response.  i.e. last year, I pre-payed for a bunch of people at the coffeehouse I used to frequent.  One of the regulars, a man I’d often seen but never spoken to, got a free coffee.  The barista told him why and pointed me out, so he came over to thank me and to ask about Caitlin.  It was a pretty cool moment.

Also, if you’re so inclined, please feel free to share this however you like.  The world, imho, can always use a little more kindness, and maybe by spreading the word, more good things will happen.  It’s worth a shot.

Lastly, I leave you with this.  These two happy mugs.  Another example of pre-cellphone camera selfie to put a little smile on your face.  I’ll always remember the joy they shared, and that which they spread.  Like I said last time; love the ones you’re with and live each moment as if it were your last.  Now go be kind to someone, please.

Peace

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This one goes to 11

Welp, this has taken me entirely too long to get to.  I was actually a little embarrassed when I checked the site the other day to see when my last posts had been (quite a while back) and I’ve had a busy last month or so.  As a consequence, I have much to write about.  I promise not to get too wordy here though.

Kinda…

I’ve got Tom Petty blaring at me whilst I work on this, it’s a holiday weekend Saturday morning, and life, on the whole, is pretty good.  Let’s get started.

I drove back to Illinois for an extended visit last month.  And I’ve already got to back up a wee bit; my travel weekend started with a trip about three hours southwest of me to Greenville, SC for a concert.  Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit with Richard Thompson as the opener.  Great.  Concert.  My hotel was literally across the street from the venue, which was kinda sweet in and of itself, but the show was just stellar.  I’ve been a Thompson fan for over thirty years and he’s an amazing musician.  If you’re not familiar, I highly recommend checking out his music.

The morning after the concert I headed north, and, as I’d intimated earlier, I split the trip into two days.  Pretty unremarkable journey home.  That’s a good thing, btw.  Especially if you’ve read any of my previous travel foibles.  You have, right?

My time in Illinois was spent with family, splitting my time between the homes of the Oldest One and the Quiet Child, but I spent time with all the kids and littles and it was delightful.  A lot of baseball games and softball games were watched and, by and large, thoroughly enjoyed.  I even got the see the Heir To The Throne hit his first high school home run, which was cool AF.

In addition to hanging with friends and family around home, I went to Springfield with nine other members of Local 3234 (our largest contingent ever!) for the state Legislative Conference.  So I got to hang with firefighter friends/union activists from across Illinois.  Spent a little quality time with some of the elected officials there, including a couple of after-hours gatherings in local watering holes.

Sorry, no stories will come from those escapades…

I got to hang out with the guys in the high-rise district for breakfast one Sunday (one of the best experiences of firehouse life), saw several friends and relatives for coffee (not all at once), I also swung by the cemetery to “chat” with Diane and Caitlin.  To be sure, there were several people (you know who you are) I had intended to get together with, that, for one reason or another was unable to, but there will be other trips home and I’m hopeful scheduling will be a little smoother.

The visit wrapped up with the 11th birthday of the Reigning Princess, which is where this pic was taken.  I can’t believe how big these guys are getting.  Pretty handsome group, no?  Speaking of time flying, when did I turn into an old man?  That’s a rhetorical question, btw, no comments necessary.

Just sayin’

I hit the road before 5:00 AM last Monday to head back to central North Carolina.  I guess karma was in my corner after the whole Memphis excursion, as this was also a really smooth trip.  The only time I used my favorite twelve letter word was to thank a fellow motorist, one with Wyoming plates on his car, for moving out of my way, allowing me to pass him easily.  I threw out the Bruce Willis line from Die Hard, you know the one.  I felt like it was appropriate given where he was from, you know, cowboys and all.   One of the high points was a lunch stop at the Bob (don’t hate, I like it) Evans restaurant in Chillicothe, OH.

Considering the rest of the clientele, I’m guessing the median age to have been 83. #83Nation.  There was also a bonus sighting of what I believe may have been the love child of auto huckster Bob Rohrman and novelist Steven King.  Yikes.  To make my lunchtime people watching even more interesting, I’m fairly certain there was a carny convention or something in town.  Again, Yikes.  But the blueberry pancakes were just the thing to get me to my next stop, one I plan for every trip between IL and NC, Beckley, WV.  I’ve never gone through the town itself, but I think it’s similar to Asheville, NC in that it is filled with artisans and has a kind of hippy vibe to it.  The rest stop/tourist center is filled with all kinds of locally made craft-y type stuff.  Blown glass, pottery, sculptures in both wood and metal and actually really good food.  If you’re ever traveling through West Virgina on either I-64 or I-77 you must stop and check it out.  Trust me.

Finally, from the “out of the mouths of babes” file, I’d like to quote the grandchild formerly known as Beatle Baby (he’s 6 years old already, I guess I’ve got to come up with a new nom de plume for him) “Grandpa Joe, you live far away.”

Yes, yes I do.  Smooth trip or not, it’s a long day on the road and I was glad to be home.  Let’s see what kind of nonsense comes my way so I can share it with you here.  But in the meantime, I’m going to head out to the shed and see what I can accomplish…

Peace

PS- what with the holiday weekend and all, I want to leave you with a PSA of sorts.  No, not my usual entreaty to not drink and drive, although, obvs.  Instead I’d like to ask you to take a minute to remember why this holiday exists.  Quite literally, thousands have given their lives to allow us the freedoms we take for granted today.  Let’s do our part to honor their memories and, to quote Labor Activist Mother Jones “Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living.”

Again, Peace

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Now Is The Winter Of My Content

I know I said in an earlier post I wanted to avoid weather shaming, but Geez Louise, I was sitting out here in the carport this morning in shorts and a t-shirt being serenaded by neighborhood birds, so it’s kinda tough not to.  Weather shame, that is.  Besides, I needed fodder for a post so, you know, low hanging fruit, right?

Winter apparently ends in February here.  Buds are starting to appear on various plants already and while working at clearing away the last vestiges of fallen leaves yesterday (in jeans and a t-shirt) I was sweating my butt off.  Figuratively, that is.  I still have a butt, so…

I was actually back in Illinois last weekend, a whirlwind tour if you will, coming back in for Local 3234’s annual Recognition Dinner.  A wonderful evening celebrating the guys that retired last year, myself included.  I had a wonderful evening catching up with people I’ve spent a great deal of time with over the last 25 years or so.  Many laughs were shared, a tall tale or two were told, and a bunch of hugs were distributed throughout the room.  I even got a promise for some of Bob’s homemade, deep dish pizza when I come back in May for an extended visit.  At least I think it was a promise.  If it wasn’t, well Bob, you’re on the spot now, so I guess you’ve gotta come through.

Speaking of amazing food… among the high points (there were many) was a special delivery from one of my bonus kids, Courtney.  Yes, you guessed it, RVCB’S!  Amazing as always, I just popped the last one this morning.  And like the old Folger’s coffee ad, they were good to the last drop.  Since it took a Pony Express type delivery I especially liked the threatening tag on the package, something to the effect of “If your name isn’t Joel keep your hands off the goods” which made me literally lol when it was pointed out to me.

In true Illinois fashion the weather was not great.  Several inches of snow in the days leading up to the dinner and daily high temperatures in the teens for the duration of my brief visit.  The coldest I saw was 8º with a wind chill of -3º and I have to say, it was ok.

That last statement gave me pause, because if you know me IRL, you know how much I like to bitch about cold weather.  *Hint- the correct answer is “a lot” *  After giving the matter a little more thought, I came to the conclusion that it’s kind of like hitting your thumb with a hammer.  It hurts.  But if you only do it once, the pain passes relatively quickly.  I was only in town for a couple of days and so was only briefly exposed to Illinois winter.  Unlike my entire life prior to this winter, when my thumb was hit roughly 27 times a day for each and every one of the approximately six month-long Illinois winters I ever experienced.

Several hours were also spent with the kids and the littles on Sunday.  Almost everyone knew I was coming in, so we all figured it would be a good way to see each other and arrangements were made to meet up at the home of the Boy Child and PhojoMama™.  I say “almost” everyone because the Quiet Child decided to leave my arrival as a surprise for the Reigning Princess.  When they arrived, RP stood in the hallway for five or ten seconds staring at me before she broke into a full on sprint, launching herself at me for an enormous hug.  It was awesome.  Another awesome part of the weekend was having the Little Diamond spend probably more time on my lap Sunday than she had cumulatively for her entire life to that point.  It was just a really nice way to wrap up a great weekend.

Speaking of wrapping up (smooth, huh?) it’s about time for me to head over to the “Y” because, you know, fitness is my middle name.

Peace

PS- because, well, you know…  Happy birthday baby!  I hope you two are doing everything you love.  Much like every other day if it’s like we’ve always been told it’s like.  And I won’t mention any numbers because my Mom didn’t raise any dummies.

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Falling Leaves

In my yard, or immediately adjacent to it, I have five beautiful, mature oak trees.  They’re huge, old trees, maybe a couple hundred years old, and really kind of majestic.  To think of how things were here when they were saplings, and the changes that have taken place on this landscape over the course of their lives gives one pause some times.  Nature can be quite spectacular when we allow ourselves the time to reflect upon its beauty.

Standing in the backyard, watching the leaves waft gently down to the earth can be fascinating.  Twisting and turning, sometimes rolling, ever gently cascading toward their ultimate resting place in the yard, it’s mesmerizing.  One by one,  gingerly drifting downward it’s a  beautiful, serene, pastoral, calming scene.

But as they conspire to fall by the hundreds, thousands even, changing the landsca- GOOD CHRIST THEY WON’T STOP FALLING WHEN WILL THIS MADNESS END

Sorry.

It seems as though I’ve traded in my snowblower for a leaf blower.  Not a bad trade mind you, but let’s just say I’ve spent a fair amount of time here these first six weeks on leaf relocation.  On the plus side, the local Public Works Department does a pretty decent job of picking them up.  The street side of my yard is as far as I have to deal with them, after that the city comes by on a semi-regular basis to vacuum them up and take them wherever leaves are taken.  I did the most recent leaf roundup last Tuesday *shout out to my neighbor for coming over to help me play “Beat The Clock” with the sun* before the pending arrival of the Boy Child, PhoJoMama™ and family, so the yard would look somewhat presentable.  Of course by the weekend you’d never know the yard had been raked.  Ever.  Except for the ginormous pile of leaves defining the boundary between street and yard.  I assume the holiday has their pick up delayed since said pile is still there.  It’s kind of had me holding off on leaf blower detail since I planned on waiting until last week’s pile was gone to start over.   I don’t think I have that option any more though since the new crop of fresh fallen little demon leaves have blanketed my yard in various shades of brown.

In a somewhat related vein; and proving the theory that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, (see what I did there?) this article  was placed on my social media yesterday by the Boy Child.  While it raises many solid environmental points, I’m choosing the vanity of a (reasonably) well-groomed lawn in its stead.

In a delightful (is there any other kind?) bit of serendipity, I hear the rumble of the leaf-vacuuming truck as it moves in to the neighborhood, clearing a spot in leaf purgatory for the past weeks collection.   Wow, that’s kind of metaphysical for this time of morning.  I guess my coffee has kicked in sufficiently to start the removal.

Peace

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The Last Day At the Firehouse

I’m officially unemployed.

Some might say unemployable, but that’s a story for another day.  Or maybe someone else’s blog.  This one is going to be about my last shift at the firehouse, specifically, my last day as firefighter/paramedic for the Village of Downers Grove.  I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never used the name of the Village or the FD here.   I didn’t want to take a chance on bringing down discipline if I shot my mouth off about something that irritated me in the moment, you know?  Don’t get me wrong, it was a great place to spend the last 25 years, but there have been issues from time-to-time.

But that’s not why you’re here.

Today’s post is going to be all sweetness and light.  And pictures.  Lots of pictures.  One of the perks of having a photojournalist in the family.

The day started with two old guys threatening to jump in the shower with me and just. kept. getting. better.  Actually, I lied.  the day started with my spotting an old “friend”.  If you remember this post You’ll recall my aversion to, of all things, a lamp.  So what to my wandering eyes should appear as I entered the day room for my last shift?

This –

Thanks to Red Shift (B or 2nd if you prefer) the lamp will be, for the rest of my days, a reminder of just how much fun life in the firehouse is.  That sucker burned brightly for 24 hours, until I gently unplugged it to take it out to the car for the trip home.  It will have an honored place, in every residence I have for the rest of my days.  To top it off, I walked in to the kitchen to find a couple of Red Shifters working away on biscuits and gravy to get the Festival To Me off on the right foot.  I knew something was up when I walked into the bunkroom to drop off my bag and the lights were all on and you guys were all awake (even Dan for cryin’ out loud) but I had no idea you guys took things to the level you did.  Thanks one and all.

Now, my intention for this post was to set my laptop out and put stuff on here throughout the day as I had a few idle moments.  The flaw in my plan became obvious quickly.

I had no idle moments.  There was a steady stream of visitors from 6:45 or so until after 2:00 yesterday afternoon.  I mean, nonstop.  When I say I was overwhelmed, that’s putting it mildly.  I mean, I figured (hoped) there’d be a nice turnout to bid me farewell, but the sheer volume of well-wishers left me speechless on more than one occasion yesterday.  That’s not an easy task either btw, leaving me speechless.  I saw friends from the Village and from Village Hall, friends from the union, friends from the FD, friends from the world of politics, friends from Good Sam, friends from all over.

Bob and TJ spent 10 hours cooking on Thursday, getting stuff ready for yesterday.  They made a ginormous batch of gumbo, jambalaya and beans and rice to feed all of our guests and it was Phe. Nominol.  It almost made me wish I’d eaten less from the mountain of baked goods that was dropped off in steady supply all day long.  Just a ridiculous amount of food.  Cal baked a carrot cake and a banana cake for me.   My Bonus Kid, Courtney, made RVCB’S! (editorial note, I’ve decided that henceforth RVCB’s shall always be followed by an exclamation point), banana bread and peanut butter cups.  Brief confession, at one point yesterday I was able to identify everything by who brought it.  I can’t do that now.  I apologize if you brought something and I left it and you out.  But Sweet Jesus there was a lot.

Late afternoon the steady stream slowed to a trickle, but some of my favorite nurses (spoiler alert, I have many) came from across the street to see me off.

Jo, Jenny, and Ida, we’ve had so many wonderful moments over the years.  You (almost) always greeted me with a smile, if not a hug, which btw helped to create somewhat of a legend around here so thanks for that, even if it was just to humor the harmless old guy.  Hearts to you and to so many other nurses, techs, secretaries, admissionists(?), and docs that I’ve crossed paths with over the years.  Truly some of the most talented medical peeps I’ve ever known.  And a lot of fun to hang with too.

Before I go any further, I need to give a shout out to one of my all-time favorite people.  Vinnie and his lovely (and incredibly tolerant.  I mean, saint-like) wife Terri stopped by to help see me into retirement.

Those two are on the short-list of people that have had my back in
so many ways over the last 14+ years.  They dropped off food when they knew we couldn’t deal with going to the store, they were just always there whenever I needed them.  To say I love you both somehow feels inadequate, but it’s the truth.  Thanks for everything.

Before I go any further, can I just say (fwiw I’m going to say it anyway) that yesterday and on in to today, social media has been a source of greater joy than probably any time in the ten years or so I’ve been active on it.  The sheer volume of posts made in tribute to me, misguided though they may be, almost literally brought me to tears.  I saw posts from across the country, wishing me well.  You people rock.

Moving on.

Most of the kids and grandkids came by for dinner.  The Quiet Child, Boy Genius, and Reigning Princess couldn’t make it in, because sometimes stuff happens.  The rest of the crew got in to join us for dinner; home made, deep-dish pizza courtesy of Chef Bob and it was just stellar, as always.  Perhaps not surprisingly, meals like that are one of the things I’m really going to miss.  Scenes like this one-

 are irreplaceable.  The camaraderie  brought to a group that eats together, shared time to discuss shared memories, shared tasks, shared goals, successes, and even sometimes, shared failures are at the heart of what we do.  So many of the world’s problems are “solved” at firehouse tables each and every day.

I’ll miss that.

As I get near the end of this, I’ve got a couple more thoughts.  First, to my many firehouse families; I was, am, and always will be proud to have worked with you.  Whether on the streets of our Village, at the bargaining table, the union hall, or at the Legislature of our state or our nation.  We always put the lives, wants, and needs of others before our own.  It’s what we do and a large part of who we are.  Don’t ever stop doing that.

Thanks for many great meals, many great runs, many great conversations, and for letting me be a part of your lives.  You’ve all been a big part of mine.  I’ll cherish our times together, good and bad, I promise I’ll check in when I’m in town.  And you’ve always got a place to stay if you get out by me.  As long as you cook.  Just sayin…

To my IRL family-

Thanks so much for being you.  Each one of you has a larger role than you know in getting me from Point “A” to Point “B” and you’ve all made the trip not only worthwhile, but so much more enjoyable.  I can’t imagine, nor do i want to imagine, where I’d be without you.  It may be from a distance soon, but I can’t wait to watch each of you evolve towards what, and who, you will become.  I couldn’t be more proud of all of you.  I love you.

Even though I could go on a little longer with this, I’m going to leave it with one final picture from yesterday.  I think this kind of sums everything up nicely for me.

Peace.

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Triggers

As Sophie and I were enjoying a leisurely walk this morning after I got home from work, my mind started to wander.  If you ever read any of my stuff you know this is not a new phenomenon.  By any definition.

I thought about the anniversary of Diane’s death tomorrow, which coincides with the birthday of the little Diamond, who is turning two.  I wrote about this confluence of events and the emotions it brought out last year so I’m not going to get into that again, exactly.  But those thoughts morphed into these; the grandchild formerly known as Beatle Baby starts Kindergarten this week.  Meaning, he is now where the Heir To The Throne was when Diane died.

And I circled around in my head where we were eleven years ago today.  To the best of my recollection we spent a good portion of the day in her hospital room, talking about the days and weeks to come.  I had brought in pictures of the dogs to display in her room, the almost one year old Sophie and Tobi the Jack Russell terrorist (not a typo) and Diane mentioned to me that one of the nurses had told her I could bring Sophie over for a visit, to the outdoor sitting area that was just outside of her hospital room.

As I’ve said in the past (I may have even written about it before, I’m not sure) when you lose someone close to you, you don’t need triggers to think about them.  In fact, I think just the opposite is true, especially early on into your grief; you need a trigger of some sort to NOT think about them.

This evolves over time.  Of course when you’re living it, that time feels as though it will never arrive.

While I was at work yesterday I was going through my email and I’m not sure how it happened but I found an old “mailbox” that I used to store emails from an old account.

One Diane and I shared.

As I read through some of the last emails she received, mostly from families she served as an AAIM advocate, I flashed back through so many memories.  And when I say “flash” I mean it.  I pushed them through my brain as quickly as I could because the firehouse is the last place on earth I want to get emotional and I knew if I dwelled on those memories it would be unavoidable.  The hardest part for me was looking through some pictures Diane’s brother sent me, in case I needed them for her wake.  In so many of the images her beauty leapt out at me and there were so many great pictures.  This one in particular gets me every time, as it one of my favorites of the two of us.

It was taken at the reception we held in our backyard after the Quiet Child got married and it was one of our best days after Caitlin was killed.

I think maybe all of this was compounded by the fact that I’ll be on the road tomorrow, headed south to house hunt for a few days.  I probably would have swung by the cemetery tomorrow, although that may be my head telling me that because I know since I’m in transit tomorrow it won’t happen.  I can’t honestly say I would have gone had I been home all day.

But either way, I know I’ll be thinking of her all day tomorrow.

Even without the triggers.

Peace