A Walk on the Punny Side

Several years ago I worked in an office where everyone at break time would take walks in the parking lot.  It helps keep the blood flowing through the day.  One day my friend and I were walking.  About one hundred yards away I saw his car parked under a tree.  I asked him if he left his window down.  He said he didn't think so but he'd better check.  Break was just about over so as he went to check I went back to my desk.  Several minutes later, my friend came back to the office.

"Did you leave the window down?" I asked.

"No, it just looked down," he replied.

"Well, I hope you did something to cheer it up."

"Yes, I juggled some balls and told some jokes."

"Oh, a real 'glass' act," I said.

"Hey, that's funny.  You can go to a comedy club and 'win dough'," he countered.

"Naw, they'd see right through it," I replied.

Memories

My earliest memory is of my mother.  My mother at this time was 29 years old and was raising 5 kids, ages 1 to 7.  On this particular day, a November afternoon in 1963 my younger brother, sister, and I were watching the television.  Pre-schoolers spending time with Mom. 

My memory starts with me hearing my mother in the kitchen, softly crying.  My brother, sister, and I are in the living room, idly watching the grainy, black and white image on the 12-inch television screen; an image of white horses pulling a carriage holding a flag-draped casket.  

I had no idea, or no comprehension of what it was all about.  But I remember my mother in the kitchen, crying to the image of this death; this end of life. 

And now, as I write this I realize that the earliest memory I have of my mother mirrors the last memory I have of my mother… and tears run rampant. 

My mother died in the fall, an October morning, 48 years later.  We had her service later that week.  I remember thinking they are going to close the casket at 9 PM, time to say goodbye.  As 9 PM approached and passed, I found myself crying, sobbing uncontrollably at the last image of my mother on this earth. 

My first memory of tears.  My last memory of tears. The first of sadness in her life.  The last of the sadness in mine.  

D. 2016

Notes to self:

Drink a lot of water.

Shut off the computer and go DO something. 

Where is my phone?

Write more, talk less.

Drink water.  Whisky and ice.  Yes, ice is water.

Do we need anything from the store?

Where is my phone?

Why is the cat in my office?

Shut off the computer and feed the cats.

Geesh!   Duly noted.

DN.  

Oregon Coast, Lincoln City, Or June 11, 2016

A writer sits on a cliff overlooking the ocean on a mid-morning, some June Saturday.  A frenzied writer found a blank notebook page but could not find a pen. 

The beach, the waves, the people, the drone, all starting the day enjoying the beauty of nature.  Cumulus clouds in the distance off the coast, the white –topped cotton balls, the grey rain clouds below stand against a deep blue sky.  

The birds in the coastal bushes, the seagulls, all making music interrupted on occasion by the annoying crows cawing over some road kill back on the road.  

The beach is full of walkers this morning.  This cool, crisp, rainless morning.  Walkers, all on two feet.  No dogs today, although I have seen two cats back by the road.  Looking for birds, maybe?

The sound of the waves ever present, like the soundtrack of the beach, a never-ending, relentless symphony.  Mother Nature’s way of telling us that land is temporary in her great lifespan.  If she loses some, she’ll make more.  She is creative like that.

 

A group of seagulls are waiting on the beach.  Standing there on their two feet in a group.  Planning session on how to deal with tourists?  The group parts down the middle, the topic of discussion put on hold as they move to let the tourists pass.  It is a long, wide beach, the tourists could easily have walked around but humans like straight lines and can’t be bothered to change our course. 

Time

Sometimes things just get complicated. Tonight, I began to realize that time is slipping away. Oh, I always knew it was, but it was a faint knowledge, almost a subconscious knowledge.  But tonight I was open to the message.  There are pictures of my children hanging on the wall in my living room.  My son is frozen in time as a nine-year-old hanging from a zip line.  My daughter is frozen as an angelic four-year-old sitting in a pine tree in my parents backyard while her uncle snaps her picture.  My children, forever young. 

This weekend, my nine-year-old son turns 22.  And later this year, my four-year-old daughter turns 27. Where does the time go?

Recently, at work, a new co-worker sent around a picture of his newborn daughter announcing her entrance to the world. I responded with a hearty congratulations and I told him to enjoy and cherish each moment.  I believe that every new parent has heard the admonition that the moments are precious and must be cherished.  My wife and I heard them. But looking back, I wonder if we paid attention.  Or perhaps, it is just the intervening years that have clouded the memories of those little children, those bundles of joy. The laughing, smiling children.

A memory is a crazy thing.  Tonight I sit here and want to remember all the fun moments from my kids' lives.  But if wishes came true I would re-live every moment, and really, who has that kind of time?  I must be satisfied with the knowledge that the lives they lived, the memories they made, are theirs and theirs alone.  The people they knew and interacted with have made them into the caring adults that they are today. 

And tonight, the only advice I can give to them is cherish each moment.  Be there.  BE THERE in your life.  Seize the day. Accept and enjoy every moment, be it good or bad.  Good moments are great, but even the bad times, the low times, the boring times, teach us things about ourselves if only we have the strength to look and to learn.

Hello from Oregon

Today is April 16, 2016.  I am writing this from our new home in Gresham, Oregon.  A lot has happened over the past year and many of those events have lead to our current circumstances and living arrangements and conditions.  When I say "our", I mean myself, my wife, and my children.  My adult children.   Who we raised to be responsible adults, or at least know what it means to be responsible adults.  As a responsible adult myself, I take responsibility for my situation.  I will talk more about that later.

But let me state that this past year, these past twelve months, have been hell.  Into each life we see a great many people come and go.  Some friends and acquaintances simply move on to different lives, different experiences.  Some loved ones die, and leave us with our own miseries of broken hearts and tears.  I was not prepared for this year.

First, we lost a beloved brother-in-law.  Larry was a good friend, a good husband and grandfather.  He was a good person who we loved dearly.  It was a pleasure having him in our lives.  His unexpected death last April really hurt.  But God has His own plan.  We cannot know why.  He was too young, only 62.  God must have had His reasons.

And then, in June, I lost my job.  I was not smart enough to really convince my boss that he was not doing things the way the company wanted him to.  I think I really knew what I was doing in becoming an adversary to him.  I did not like working for him.  I hated his arrogance.  The fact that he couldn't communicate very well and we work in a field where that skill is somewhat important, well, perhaps it just really annoyed me.  But anyway, I am lucky to be away from that corporate life.  I hated all the BS politics.  And believe me, there was so much of it.

In October, we lost our dad.  Dad was in failing health but my sisters and I did our very best to take care of his needs.  We cooked him dinners and took him to appointments.  We helped him to be comfortable.  I know it was tough on him since our mom died three years ago.  But we tried to help him through it all.

In November, my brother died.  He had been fighting cancer and was winning but the cancer called in reinforcements and in the end my brother just could not fight it anymore.  My brother was a good man.  Years ago, after my wife and I got married, I hatched a plan to win the lotto and move all of my brothers and sisters into a family complex where we could all live together and be a family again.  That plan never came to fruition and I know now that it never could have.  We all had grown into each of our own separate lives and needed to make our own way in the world.  Truth be told, in adulthood my brother and I were not very close.  But at his funeral, I realized that he had become a much greater adult than I can ever wish to be.  And the truth is, I miss my Mom and Dad and my brother every day.

Such is life.  Every life has its own hardships.  And heartbreaks.  And loves.  And deaths.  Births  and losses.  We are human.  We endure.  This is what we do.  We pick up the pieces.  We trudge on.  We live.

At the middle of November, 2015, my health insurance ran out.  My severance ran out.  My wife and I were out of money and with very little prospects for our future.  Thankfully, during the week of Thanksgiving -- Yes, THANKSgiving week, I interviewed for a full-time permanent job out of state.  An offer was made and I accepted it.  I would start on January 4, 2016.  Hallelujah!!

But then, the fun began.  We had to sell our house and move to Oregon.  My son had saved some money and was ready to move to be closer to his sister.  So, he was ok.

My wife was reluctant to quit her job of 18 years but we just could not stay.  Wanting to be near me, with me, she elected to quit her job and we packed up our belongings and moved to Oregon.  My son and I left San Diego on Christmas Day and we drove to Oregon.  I flew down to SD on December 27th, picked up my wife and drove the same two day trip.  We arrived in Gresham, Oregon on December 28th, moved into our apartment on December 29th and began our new life.

So, there you have it.  Our new adventure in a nutshell.  With all the deaths, and job losses, and picking up the pieces, I have been fighting depression.  I thank God that I have my wife with me.  I would be nothing with out her.  I am so glad that we are on this adventure together.