R.I.P. my best friend - Dog is God spelled backward

what I always saw when I walked

last night - we walked the yard a lot

She was sick of my camera in her face

new toys

I've had a recent influx of gear upgrade-ness....

One I play and get to listen to all the time (Grestch drums and a PreSonus Firewire recording set-up). The other, I get to look at. Here, you have a look, too.

happiness in the grief

April has been a hard month. Not just for me but for many others I know. But in grief comes goodness.

For instance, I have some of the best co-workers anyone could ask for. Instead of sending flowers to both funerals, they instead gave me a $100 gift certificate to a local flower shop. I knew almost immediately what I would do with it.

On Saturday I bought and planted four fruit trees; one for each grandparent, even the one still living. I could think of no more fitting a tribute to their lives and the impact they each had on me than to plant a tree in their honor.

(I have planted everything, except the mature trees, in this pic)

 

My Terry grandparents had apple trees all over their small farm and my grandmother Terry's home place, at the head of Railroad Fork, was littered with apple trees. They even had an orchard on the side of the mountain. 

My maternal grandparents (Adams) had a peach tree behind their house and it was from this tree that a green snake fell down the back of Mamaw's dress while she was wringing a Sunday Chicken's neck. Needless to say, she slung the chicken into the creek, broken neck and all, in order to free herself of the serpent. Someone downstream enjoyed our Sunday dinner, I'm sure. We had a vegetarian meal instead. But my Mamaw Adams made the best crab apple jelly on the planet from the crab apple tree beside their garden.

Fruit trees: I can't thank my co-workers enough for helping me honor my grandparents.

R-L: Hazel Prater Terry (Jonathan Apple), Hannah Hamilton Adams (Crab Apple), 

Orville "Bodine" Adams (Georgia Peach), Thornton Terry (Elberta Peach)

a really bad day

the dog is fading fast. this morning she was panting and pacing as if this was the final day.

By 10:30 I'd gotten the following note from a stranger:

I'm a big fan of Stealin' Horses from way back. I love the music. I found you through Gregg's page. I'm still shocked over his passing. This is too awful. Be well, and may God comfort you in this time of loss...me, I'm still waiting.

My heart sank. He turned 44 just days ago. I still don't know what happened only that it was "unexpected and sudden".Gregg Fulkerson and his son Carter

Not more than 30 minutes later my mother called to tell me of my grandmother Terry's passing, a short 9 days after my grandfather Terry died. It's been a bad, bad day.

Hazel and Thornton Terry, 1983

an update

I didn't realize how long it had been since I last posted. Shame on me for having a life. Must be the delicious spring-like weather. Last weekend the garden got tilled and 18 asparagus crowns were planted.

Yesterday, I took a vacation day and went home to West Liberty. All three living grandparents are in dire straights.

My dad's parents are both in the hospital. They were in the same room until Mamaw Terry somehow came down with e-coli (hospitals are so unsanitary). She screams every time she's touched because of the severe swelling caused from fluid retention, and that is caused from the congestive heart failure and kidney malfunction. He is struggling to breathe because of pneumonia and heart issues. He weighs a whopping 100 lbs! Alzheimer's is setting in so, he's usually very irritated (further evidence that I come by my colorful use of language naturally) and, unfortunately, he's a walker. This morning, for whatever reason, he thought he'd get up. He fell and cut himself all over. It's just not looking good for either of them. I did manage to keep his anxiety at bay for a while yesterday by applying a cold rag to his head. He was somewhere between a heart attack and an anxiety attack. The cool rag and touch helped to keep him quiet for as long as I did it. No sooner would I move that he would become agitated again.

Meanwhile, my mom's mother continues to suffer light strokes periodically. During lunch yesterday we noticed she was sitting in her chair with her head in her hands. I got up and asked what was wrong. "I'm 97, that's what's wrong. You wait till you get this old, you'll know what I mean." Can't argue with that. I went back to the dinner table.

It's so funny to learn so much about oneself in the throws of their dying (not sure that's the correct spelling for this context). Every word they speak, every move they make I see myself and I understand more about who I am and where I've come from. Some things are truly born of genetics alone. No amount of therapy or prayer is gonna change it. Might as well embrace it. Let the colorful metaphors continue, I say!

Jack

This is the last picture of my boy Jack. It was taken during the ice storm less than 2 weeks ago. He was still doing good then - he'd started his new round of antibiotics and was pretty perky. He took a turn very quickly.

He was the coolest cat ever. He never messed where he shouldn't. He never asked for anything that he didn't need. He never got underfoot. He never meowed incessantly. The worst thing about him was that he was a puker - from the moment I met him, he was a puker. That aside, he was an utterly perfect cat. A true Zen kitty if ever there was one. I'd had him for 3 years; he was probably 13-14. He'd lived at least 7 lives by the time he got to me and I saw him through his last two. He was a fighter for sure, even though he was a tiny guy.

He died on Thursday the 12th. While most people fear Friday the 13th, for me it's always been Thursday the 12th. I broke my leg on Thursday the 12th. I took a racket to the head and had 12 stitches over my eye on Thursday the 12th. My mother got hit by a stupid girl who ran a red light on...you guessed it, Thursday the 12th. And, so, it came as little surprise that my beloved Jack died on Thursday the 12th. Little surprise, too, that I had been suffering one of my worst migraines ever that same day (something I share with my mother - bad things happen when migraines are involved).

Here I am, 3 days later, and I'm still looking for him at different places in the house. I caught myself calling Max Jack and Lilly Jack. I'm sure I'll call the dog Jack, too, before long. I buried him beneath the Norwegian Pine in the backyard and, without realizing it, I can see it from every window in the house. I keep apologizing to him that I couldn't do more to fix the problem. Like I can fix Lymphoma. Poor guy. He was the best cat ever.

Jack. Jacket. Jackie. Jackie Doo. Jacket Man.

on being thankful

first there was John Travolta's 16 year old son who died suddenly and then I watched Barbara Walters' interview with a very ill Patrick Swayze. Famous people, sure, but human like the rest of us. They come on the heels of a holiday where I was reminded that we're all getting older. Nearly everyone I know, their health is on the edge, some are actually tipping over. So, I've been pausing to think about how lucky I am. I've got my issues, sure, but by and large I'm pretty damn healthy. I know two friends with MS, two others with diabetes, still others with this and that - all things that could turn deadly in the blink of an eye. I've had friends die at very, very early ages - lives cut entirely too short. At the end of the Walter's special I found myself thanking God that I'm ok. With elderly parents and no children or spouse, staying healthy is even more important than ever. There's nobody but me so, what the hell happens if I go down? I don't wanna know. Not yet.

just one more

a very happy Lance, feeling relatively good, in a happy "Celly" on our way to Tulsa
he thinks he's an old man. I think he's "Oh Man!"

a new year

well, here we are, 2009, and tomorrow sees me and many others back in the office for the first time this year. I'd like to say I'm excited to go back to work. I'd like to say I've done everything I said I was going to do before we broke for the holidays. I'd like to say I have set resolutions that I have started...and can actually finish. I'd like to say many, many things that are true but, so far, I've not said anything true except that it's a new year.

(Robin, Lance, Kate)

I was very fortunate to visit my beloved Tahlequah, Oklahoma over the holiday. It was a short visit, and action packed as always (Dirty Santa party pic above), but it was very, very good for many reasons. Not the least of which was seeing many of my best pals on the planet and realizing that they, too, are aging. It's not just me. And, with the exception of yours truly, we're aging very well for the most part - at least as far as looks are concerned. Health is another matter entirely.

It is this last point that is fueling me to improve my health and well-being this year. To stop giving all of my energy to my day job and my second, non-paying job and to start using that energy to make me a better person to my fellow man and to myself; emotionally, physically, spiritually, and intellectually. I should be coming into my prime, not feeling overwhelmed and tired all the time. If I live as long as my first grandparent that died, my 44th birthday this week marks my mid-life. It seems to me that 44 years is not enough and that 88 won't be enough either. So, in case I don't even make it that far, I better get to work on making the most of what's left and stop giving it to energies that don't deserve nor fully appreciate it.

There - I feel better now.