Tears, A Long Time Coming

I finally figured out my funk. I haven't been feeling like myself in the last month.  Something has been missing.  I know what is missing.  The fact that for the rest of my life I will never be able to speak with my old friend, Bob.  But, in the past month I had not cried for my loss.  The news came from out of town and I was removed from the situation.  And so, it never really sank in. Yet, it all hit me the other night.

 

I was cleaning out my old travel briefcase.  The one I use for itineraries, maps and brochures.  It used to be my 'go to' journal for travel.  I would jot down notes and collect things from my various trips.  Last night I was preparing for a trip, getting itineraries, contact information, maps and addresses to take. 

I was cleaning the detritus of older trips, souveniers and just general keepsakes.  I came across one piece of paper that reminded me of Bob. It was an old comic strip clipping from March, 1996.  Crankshaft by Batiuk and Ayers.  One of Crankshafts' friends, Mr. Meckler, was talking to a younger friend, family member or aquaintence about why he, Mr. Meckler, never made it big as a musician. Mr. Meckler told the youngster "But success isn't what gives life its meaning...The zest is in the rattle of the dice in the cup."  

At that point I just started sobbing. My wife sat there wondering what the problem was.  It broke my heart.  But I remembered how important it was.  I remembered Bob's “Joie de la vie”. 

Bob taught me a dice game in 1980.  I don’t remember the exact date, because, the truth is, we were probably drunk.  The game is called Farkle.  Some people compare it to Bunco.   But it is played with six dice and the player can keep going or stop, depending on their “gutsiness”.  One of the phrases we used to say was “No guts, no glory”.  This was repeated over and over during our games.

At any rate, I had a good cry last Thursday evening.  But I had an overwhelming feeling that Bob was with me at that moment.  I truly did.  I am no longer worried about Bob.  I think he is alright.  I regret the loss of my old friend.  But he was an amazing person.  He had a great sense of humor and a great laugh.  I will never forget that.  Thank you Bob for your friendship and for all the memories. 

For Bob. February 26, 2013

The dreaded phone call came that afternoon.  We all know it is coming but find it hard to accept, nonetheless. 

I received a call on my cell from my best friend’s son, Brian. 

Me:  “Hello”

Brian:  “Hi David, this is Brian.  I need to tell you that my dad passed away this morning.”  And I sat there thinking to myself, “Brian?  Who is Brian?  Oh yeah.  His dad passed away.  Oh wait, his dad is Bob.  Bob, my best friend.  The best man at my wedding.  Sh*t

Me:  “Oh Damn.  No way.  Oh my gosh.  I just spoke with him a couple of weeks ago.  Damn.” 

Brian:  “I know.  I spoke with him this morning, before I left for work.  I wanted to call you because he was very fond of you.” 

And so it went.  Brian told me of the circumstances surrounding my friends last few hours of life.  February 26, 2013.  It was horrible news to hear.

I met Bob in 1979.  We were both working the same hotel in Lake Tahoe, Nevada.  I had been there about a month when they re-assigned me from the coffee shop to the New York Deli.  Bob was my co-worker, trainer and possible co-defendant, if they ever found out how much fun we were having (it was like stealing).  Part of the reason it was so much fun was because of Bob.  He had been a good friend for 34 years.  I knew him through two marriages.  I met his family, his brother and sisters, his kids, his wives (well, two of them anyway) and his grandkids.  He was like a father to me.  We shared many common interests.  

Brian had no information about services or even when Bob’s siblings would arrive.   I told Brian I would call him back in two days. 

The next day, February 27, 2013 was our (Nora’s and myself) 25^th wedding anniversary.  I was heartbroken that Bob would not be there to share in our joy and celebration.  Nora and I were planning a second honeymoon trip.  Our trip would take us to within about 150 miles of my friend’s house.  Nora and I decided that we could make the detour, if needed. Plans were meant to be broken.   

But I had tickets to hear Billy Collins speak on the night of February 26^th.  My wife explained to me that Bob was proud of my literary pursuits.  And no plans were made as yet to make me change mine.  I went to hear Billy Collins speak. I felt bad, leaving my family on the night that we received such news.  But Bob was over 500 miles away.  There was nothing I could do for him or his family.  I needed to honor Bob's faith in my pursuits.

The night the news came, Billy spoke of silences.  I thought of the silent news.  The news that makes you silent, the ‘what else are you gonna do’ silence.  The fnord.  The only look that when something is explained to you, it leaves you without words. The surreal acknowledgement that you don’t belong in this moment.  

The ‘100 Chinese silences’, he said.  And other phrases that Billy uttered, caught my ear, and my mind’s heart. 

Tonight I received word that my best friend had died.  Passed away, ceased to enjoy this life.  A man with such joy does not give up life lightly.  There was no sign of struggle.  And that tells me he was done.  Or his body was done, because it just gave up.  It was his time. 

I found out tonight.  And I was asked if I was still going.  Still going to hear a poet I had barely heard of.  Someone I didn’t know.  In my grief, I left my family in theirs, for someone I didn’t know.  But Billy, you helped me.  You said we turn to poetry in the times when we need it.  We turn to it for emotional intelligence.  Poetry is an invitation to slow down.  I was using my escape to a poetry reading as a way to slow down and take an inventory of all that I had and all that I had lost.

 

My wife had known him almost as long as I had; Crazy Old Bob.  I remember all of his jokes. I remember all the old times.
 

The games, every one he lost.  The first time he taught me cribbage, I beat him.  The first time he taught me and Brian to play liars dice, we beat him.  The farkle game that he loved.  I shall never mention that game again.  I don’t know if I can ever play it again.  

I will miss him. I just don't know what to do now. We are going to be in Monterey on Saturday. I don't know when the arrangements are. So sad. I'm going to bed.

d.

My Friend Bob

Many of you know that I lost one of my best friends on February 26^th.  Heart attack, 8:30, 9:00 in the morning. Right outside his home. They didn’t find him for a half hour. His daughter was going to take him to his exercise class. Very shocking news. Dead. His family had a memorial service for him this past weekend.  My wife and I drove to Sacramento. We think that friendship lasts forever but it has limits.  And then we find they don’t.

 

We tried to call each other at least once  a month.  He came to visit us a couple of times.  We would see him on our yearly trips to Sacramento or Lake Tahoe.  He was a great friend.  And I had just spoken with him two weeks prior.  It hit me hard.  He was my best friend.  He was our Best Man.  I had known him for 34 years. 

My wife and I celebrated our 25^th Wedding anniversary on February 27^th.  We had planned to drive up the coast.  It was a bittersweet trip for us.  We kept in touch with Bob’s son for any details on the service.  They had postponed it until this past Saturday.  My wife and I drove up to Sacramento on Friday.

 

I met Bob in 1979 when I was a crazy, mixed up kid, looking for a way to live my life with joy and happiness.  I was running away to the mountains to find God.  I wanted to drop out, live my life as a hermit, to learn to fish and hike.  Bob became my friend when the hotel I was working for assigned me to the restaurant where he was also a cook. It was different setup than the rest of the hotel.  A lot more relaxed.  For instance, our restaurant didn’t open until lunch time.  We had three hours to set up each day.  And boy did we have fun.

The restaurant was a New York style delicatessen.  They served a lot of NY local sodas.  We had Dr. Brown’s sodas.  One day I decided to try a Dr. Brown’s celery soda.  Bob decided it would be funny to put Tabasco in it while I wasn’t looking.  I took a sip from it while he and our other co-worker looked on, waiting for my reaction.  I noticed it tasted different.  But it was actually quite good.  I think he was perturbed because I didn’t react with a quick trip to the sink.  But we all got a good laugh out of it as I threatened my revenge.

 

Several days later, Bob was making a paper airplane out of a placemat (probably to throw to a waitress), I found the perfect opportunity.  Our kitchen was the envy of other cooks.  It was quiet, clean and we always had cooks from other kitchens stop in for a visit.  This one day while Bob was constructing his airplane another cook stopped by.  I saw the cook come in and I knew Bob had seen someone come in dressed in white.  I quietly whispered “Chef”, and I actually relished the look of panic on Bob’s face as he quickly crumpled his plane.

 

Ah, those were the days.  Lot of fun.  Bob taught me how to have fun.

Time went on and eventually Bob became my roommate.  Or I became his.  The apartment at the “Y” in Tahoe.  The “Y” is actually an “X”, a crossroads of two highways and two city streets.  Nice little neighborhood. 

One day, during the fall of 1980, Bob and I were going to go fishing.  It was mid-afternoon and I had just gotten off work.  Bob wanted to watch the last of the National League Playoffs.  Phillies and Astros.  It was late innings and a tight score.  Now, at the time, Bob and I were rooming with another cook, Wiley.  Wiley and I were about the same age and both looking for the intellectual stimulation that we could derive from games.  We were playing various board games but they were all still kind of simple.  This day, I sat down with Bob to watch the end of the baseball game.

 

I don’t recall the score.  But the Phillies manager, Dallas Green, came out to make a change.  I asked Bob why he was doing that.  I played little league as a kid.  I never understood why.  I  just did.  I wasn’t any good.   But the manager came out and made a strange move.  I thought it strange.  But Bob explained to me the idiosyncrasies of the game. Bob taught me to love baseball.

One day while sitting in our living room I noticed it was large enough to accommodate a pool table.  And so started the days of our bachelor pad.  When my brother’s and I were in high school, working at our various jobs, we had saved up enough money to buy a pool table.  But now we had moved to different locations and that pool table sat in our parents garage in So. Cal.  Heck it was just taking up space. Wiley and I made a trip to SD to pick it up.  We sure had a lot of fun with that.  People walking by the apartment,  looking in.  Years later someone told me that people had complained about the noise.  I was not aware of that.  No one brought it to my attention. 

And so, Bob taught me how to shoot pool. Bob grew up in Butte, MT.  He told me a lot about the gambling halls and clubs.  I think at one time Bob worked some of those clubs.  

Bob taught Kate that it was ok to jump in a lake with her clothes on, after dinner, on a cool summer evening.  

My friend, Bob, taught me a lot of things.  I thank him for that.  I thank him for the 30 years of friendship.  I owe him a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. 

Bob was my friend, my teacher. He was like a brother to me. I will never forget him.

And now, I realize there is one great lesson that he has taught me.  A lesson I learned too late for some relationships in my life.  But he taught me how precious it is to know someone well enough to call them friend.  Family is given, friends are chosen. I am proud to call him friend. 

David

Anne Hathaway's Oscar worthy performance

My whole family watched tonight's Oscar broadcast.  All of the movies I wanted to win won.  All of the actors I wanted to win won.  I was happy. 

I wanted to offer my congratulations to Anne Hathaway.  (Regular readers know my interest in her career.  We shared a moment in a Chicago airport many years ago.)  Anyhow.  Anne Hathaway, congratulations on your well deserved Oscar win.  Your performance was amazing and it is a pleasure watching you and your career. 

Congratulations to Jennifer Lawrence.  Amazing. 

D.

Karma, Coincidence and Keys

(Note:  This is a little story from when my kids were growing up.  Must have been about 15 years ago.  Enjoy.)
 
I believe in God. I believe in Karma.  I believe in coincidence.

Let me explain a weekend I had several years ago and we'll see if there is something spiritual in it. 

My wife and I decided to go to La Jolla - a well to do village near the beach - with our kids to look at a friends' artwork at a gallery.  We hadn't seen her artwork and were wondering how talented she was.  She is good.  Was selected one of the top 100 artists in So Cal.  Everything was going great.  My wife mentioned that it was her mothers' birthday.  She died when our daughter was six months old so it was kind of hard for my wife.  She said her mom would have gotten a kick out of my son, Timmy.  He is a goofball.  He is a lot of fun.  I told my wife that her mother is getting a kick out of the kids.  She is watching all of the time.  'But I digress.  I figured that my wife would like to go up to the top of the local mountain.  We fell in love in the mountains, maybe that would cheer her up.  Besides the kids had never been up there.

So we go up to the top of the mountain.  It was kind of foggy but it was still nice. We played around there for a while watching my daughter, 7, do cartwheels on the grass and watching her brother try to emulate her. 

When we got to the time to leave, we couldn't get the car started.  I couldn't get the alarm to shut off.  I've got a kill switch and I couldn't bypass it. 

It was hot, and the kids were hungry.  We started to walk down the hill.  Timmy, 3, wouldn't walk.  He has short legs.   I ended up carrying him as much as I could. 

There was a church about a mile down the hill.  Church was just letting out.  We asked about a phone (this was before cell phones) and a lady asked us if we needed any help.  I explained the trouble and she said her husband is an electrical engineer.  He fixed her alarm switch.  Maybe he could fix mine.

He looked at it and cleaned it.  He said that might do it.  So he offered me a lift up the hill. 

When we got up there the car still wouldn't start.  I was really getting mad.  We drove around the hill and on the other side a tow truck had overheated.

I asked the driver if he could help me.  He said that he was broken down.  He couldn't help.  But he knew what the problem was. 

He pointed to the radio towers on an adjacent ridge, about 100 yards away.  Those towers were blocking the transmission from my switch to my car.

He said I had to put the car into neutral and coast down the hill until I was out of range of the towers. 

So I did.  No power steering, no power brakes.  I turned on the radio before I left the top and figured I'd turn the ignition when I heard the radio.  About a mile down the hill I could hear the radio.  Turned the ignition.  Bingo.  Started right up.

I went back to the church and picked up the wife and kids.  

So what do you think.  Coincidence???  Maybe...but.....

Both my wife and I thought that her mom was looking out for us.

I'm going to call it a spiritual weekend.

Crazy Weekend, Lazy Monday

I am tired.  You should not be tired on a Monday morning but how many of us find that our weekends are not relaxing?

 

Friday (and, indeed, all last week) I was having more computer problems at home.  Picked up a virus from somewhere (Java?)  My security software just didn’t cut it.  Had company X come out for a cleanup but it didn’t work.  Had them rescheduled for Saturday afternoon.  I spent Friday afternoon and evening getting the computer ready for back up and re-set.  Had chores and errands on Saturday morning and then home in time for the computer guy.  By 4PM it was clear he was a no-show so I got on the phone with support to complain.  The general number they gave me was the one I called.  It matched the number on the invoice from the previous call.  They transferred me to the group that could help me.  And then they transferred me again.  And again.  SIX times.  Still no support.  What a racket. 

Finally, I scrapped my internet explorer and downloaded Mozilla Firefox. The previous operating system Manufacturer and Company X are no longer on my Christmas list.  Luckily, I now have my computer back.  I was hoping to finish some projects by the end of the month.  Oh well.  Excuses.  I should just stay up late and write. Not tonight though. I took a pill – a muscle relaxer.   Stressing out about the computer and my plans, I was aching and just wanted a good night’s sleep.  Not staying up late tonight.  But…

Be careful what you wish for…or Man Plans, God laughs.

Last night was the Golden Globes.  Normally, on a Sunday night my wife and I sit in the living room and watch our shows.  Last night the kids joined us.  My daughter came over to watch the Globes.  The cats, sensing something special was going on were extremely high strung and excited.  About an hour into the Globes my son got up from his seat and stepped on our male cat’s tail.  The cat bolted and ran into the other room.  My son came back to his seat and noticed that the end of my cat’s tail was still on the carpet.  Poor thing severed about an inch off of his tail.  He was bleeding so, after a rather excited and tumultuous 15 minutes, I got the cat corralled and bundled into a towel.  Off to the pet emergency room for me.  My son was concerned enough to join me.  My wife and daughter stayed to watch the Golden Globes.(They would just be freaking out at the ER anyway.)

The vet said this sort of thing happens quite a lot.  Well, not to us.  Got the cat settled in at the vet.  They said they needed to amputate the last two inches of our cat’s tail.  Operation would be about five hours and we could pick him up  at some time after 11:30 PM. I didn’t get home till almost midnight.  Gave the cat his medicine (for pain and antibiotics) and finally went to bed.  But it was sure hard getting up at 5:AM Monday morning.  

Addendum:  Oh, by the way, congratulations to Anne Hathaway for her Golden Globe win for Best Supporting Actress.  I have written about Anne here previously.  

Update:  The cat is doing fine.  Back to his old self, minus some fur and part of his tail.  Life goes on.  

A limerick from my past.  (Thanks Mr. Merriman.):


"I sat next to the duchess at tea,
It was just as I feared it would be.
Her rumblings abdominal
Were simply phenominal
And everyone thought it was me"


That was fun.

Very well known limerick. 

Happy Thanksgiving

The turkey is stuffed and placed in the oven.
Time for breakfast. Stomach, stop rumblin'.
Coffee's the thing, still tastes like crap,
Ah forget it, think I'll take a nap.

Sez me.
Happy Thanksgiving.

Last Saturday

Last Saturday morning I was fixing breakfast for my dad. My wife had gone to Houston for a four day weekend of fun, frivolity, and retail therapy with her sisters. One of the sisters arranged a train trip to Galveston for the four of them and assorted and available spouses. My wife, knowing my affinity for trains, texted me a photo taken out the train window, with the caption “On the train, Choo, Choo!”.

I texted back, “Breakfast with Dad, Chew, Chew!”

Sorry, had to share that pun.

Texas Highway, June, 1979

Stopping on the side of a West Texas highway, my two brothers and I, and my brother's friend, Tiger, paused to admire the lightning storm in the disance.  Late afternoon, 3PM, on our way to Vegas.  I, the poet, got out of the car with my Kodak Instamatic 126, trying to capture the picture, the spider lightning, frozen in my eye. 

Ignoring the cries of my companions, eager to get to Vegas, I, the poet, respond to a different call. I respond to the weather, to the God who placed us in this spot, at this time, to experience his wrath and kindness, his healing gifts.  I respond to the spot, the present, the wrath and gifts. 

My companions see only the road, the long journey, two days ahead.  I, relish the rain.

d.

I Remember Chocolate

I remember chocolate.  I remember the first time I missed it.  I remember family dinners, the enticing desserts if we cleaned our plates, finished our  meals - the chocolate fudge, the Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, the chocolate syrup on ice cream.  I remember the meals.  "Clean your plate." 

I remember cold broccoli, cold cabbage - cold, cold, mushy cabbage.  Horrible, cold cabbage, bland, unflavored, mushy, boiled cabbage. 

I remember my sister.  My sweet, adorable, wouldn't hurt a fly, sister.  I remember her telling me later that she thought the dog would eat it. But I ATE it.  I cleaned my plate.  she didn't.  I got blamed for the cabbage on the floor, under my chair. 

I remember desserts.  Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.  Yum.  Used to be my favorite.  I remember sitting there for an hour.  "Clean your plate."

I remember the dog getting my peanut butter cup.  I remember growing up, being an adult and always having chocolate in the apartment, in the house, as dessert, as a snack.  I remember working in the office, afternoon snacks, chocolate bars - the quick energy.  I remember those days.

I remember the days when  the energy boost did not come.  I remember the numbness, the thirst.  I remember the doctor telling me:

"Diabetes..."

I remember chocolate.

Waiting in Line

Today I took my wife to the movies.  Two people in front of us in line for tickets were a mom and her (?) three daughters.  The daughters were maybe three and four years old and an older one about five or six.  My wife noted that the little girls each had a little bag of Pirates Booty and a canned soda.

One of the younger girls, the 4 year old (?) had just finished her soda and was giddily wandering over to a nearby trash can.  She was going to throw her can away. When she walked away, her little sister (or friend) also walked with her. Then an amazing thing happened.  The older daughter followed the two little girls.

The soda girl threw away her can and returned with her other sister back to mom.  The look on the older sister's face told the tale.  She had an expression that I call "responsifortitude" - that duty and responsibility, that chore.  And the look, the precious look, she had was one of frustration and annoyance that she had to look after the little ones. 

D.

Amazing Les Miserables movie extended trailer

Had the opportunity tonight to watch the extended trailer for the upcoming movie, Les Miserables.  My whole family is looking forward to it.  We are going to make a Christmas movie our new family tradition.  And what better way than to watch Anne Hathaway star in this great musical drama. 

Regular readers of this blog know my infatuation with Anne(http://ponderingdave.blogspot.com/2011/02/2011-oscar-broadcast.html).  I think she is a tremendous actress.  I even had a momentary, not so close encounter with her in a Chicago airport, gosh, it must have been 10 or 11 years ago (http://ponderingdave.blogspot.com/2009/02/anne-hathaway.html). 

I cannot wait to see that movie.  Fascinating story.  Anne, I think you are fantastic. 

Stop by for dinner sometime.  I am a great cook and I need you to corroborate my Chicago story. 

Thanks.
d. 

Neighborhood Crosswalks and cultural rules

Whilst out walking with my wife one fine Sunday morn, we came to an intersection of neighborhood streets. We were on the home stretch and this street intersected with our street at an angle. Just as we approached the intersection an SUV approached from our right. He pulled up to the stop sign. I had stopped and was waiting for him to drive on.

The driver signaled for us to go ahead and cross the street. Since he signaled us, we were obliged to walk in front of the SUV. We did, even though the best angle to cross the street would have been to walk behind the vehicle and to let the driver drive on.  But is that jaywalking?  Even if no one is around?

We are a nation of rules; a people of rules.  We have habits, cultural habits, that are often hard to break even when the simple way is the best.   

Sometimes I just wander around the house and just wonder. I wonder why. Why I am not the person I wanted to be. Why am I not the person I set out to be?  Maybe it is because of so many rules - cultural, societal, work, life.  So many unwritten rules.  I have to work.  Have to pay the bills.  I work because it is not permissable for an able bodied adult male to sit around and type words on a computer. 

I must learn to break the rules.