I'm a little lost

It's been two weeks since my Grandma passed away. And I've been able to go about life and do the things that must be done. It's certainly been easier since Doc has picked up the slack and has been working tirelessly around the house (outside and in). But every now and then I dip a toe in the pool of grief and feel the sadness. Sometimes I can withdraw my foot. Sometimes the grief pulls me under.

If you've been a long time visitor here, you know that since this blog started, I've lost my Grandpa, my Aunt Gail, and now Grandma Jean. When I lost Grandpa and Gail, I was working at my old job, which was a nightmare. My previous boss was domineering and manipulative. I basically had to turn off my emotions and go into survival mode to continue to work for her. For four years. The longer I worked there the easier it was not to feel things. This made work easier, but family life...well, I guess it was easier too. I wasn't feeling the pain. Or the joy. But I lost two people who were very dear to me and I couldn't grieve for them. I didn't dare, lest I come completely undone.

Since I've moved to my new job, almost three years ago, I've started to defrost. Here I've discovered I'm able to be myself and react naturally with out running every event through a processor to judge whether or not this reaction or that would cause me more trouble or more work. Over time, I've been able to start feeling things again. This came to a head last month when I got irregular results on an annual exam at the doctor's office.

Of course, I found out about the test a month prior to going back to the doctor to discuss it. So I had a lot of time to really face up to my life and see if it was going in the direction it should be. It wasn't. Inspired by the possibility that I might be seriously ill in the near future and my emotional awakening, I started cleaning my emotional house. As it turns out, the tests results aren't the death sentence I feared. But they were a wake-up call for me.

Since I lost Grandma, I have been feeling the full force of her passing. And it hurts. But I'm ok. I'm a little sensitive about grandma-related topics and sometimes I just want to curl up in one of her blankets and cry my eyes out. But this sensitivity brings about awareness. And it highlights the things about her that I loved and that I will miss. And those things I'm going to pick up and carry with me so that I'll be a bit more like her and then she'll still be with me.

I've started wearing perfume. I cleaned out my purse. Come payday, I'm going to stash a twenty in there and hide it from myself so that I can find it when funds are low. I'm wearing her beautiful nightgowns to bed instead of tee-shirts. I'm paying closer attention to the way my kids act and I want to make sure they are getting enough love and a bit more discipline. I'm standing my ground on personal issues that are important to me. I'm going to be more efficient. And every once in a while, I'm going to call on the river when I've only got three to a straight.

I'm going to do all these things in remembrance of her. I want her memory to be vibrant and three dimensional, close to me. I know she's gone and I'm a little lost without her. But if she were here, she'd tell me to stick close and don't get separated from the family. She'd say, it's ok to be sad but she'd advise that I might want to find something to do to perk me up. And I'll be on the look out for the good stuff while I try to handle the bad. I'll get out of the woods eventually, not as an empty shell, but rather as someone who has fully grieved and has been marked by the experience.

Aveatque Vale: Grandma Jean

I’m really glad we are all here together today. More than anything, Grandma Jean wanted us to all be close to her. And never leave. She loved us all so fiercely and wanted to protect us all. She enjoyed our company and never wanted the good times to end. And what she would want, I believe, is for us to be sad today and feel the loss of her and the imprint she leaves in our heart as a remarkable mother, daughter, grandmother, sister, aunt and friend. She would want us to miss her. To remember her and remember what she taught us.

We should also celebrate her life for she accomplished a lot, most times with very limited material resources. Grandma Jean had to grow up fast and she had to learn a lot at a very young age. She was born in Pittsburgh but lived most of her life here in Canton. She told us all of her experiences growing up in a household with, unfortunately, not a lot of adult supervision. It made her tough and independent. It taught her that she had to be responsible and look out for those who couldn’t yet. She told us stories about her rough childhood, but she would tell them in such a way that we could learn from it or be amused. She wouldn’t have wanted us to focus on the heartbreaking parts. She would want us to take away the lesson she shared with us, that we have it in us to overcome adversity and make the world we want to live in. And that we ought to take care of each other.

Having been in charge of her destiny for most of her childhood, Grandma Jean had very little patience with authority and she didn’t trust authority figures. She knew best. She grew tired of school and decided to hit the road at fourteen and go back to Pennsylvania and get a job. She was stopped, of course, and sent back home. But she was determined make her own way in the world and to do it in her own way. She taught us that sometimes, it’s more important to be true to ourselves than to the status quo. For what could faceless authority know better than we do about how to live this live we’ve been given?

When she met my Grandpa, she knew right away she’d met the love of her life. After a short courtship, they spent over 50 years married to each other. Together they created a family that was tightly bonded. And she was fiercely loyal to us all. How many times has she taken us shopping or helped us spring clean? And as she helped us clean, she shared with us what she knew about running a household. She never refused a cry for help and most times, she could hear the cry for help before we could utter it. She would be at our sides, applying her energies to help us. She showed us how to serve others and that it was just part of the family territory.

There were many good times with Grandma Jean. She was an encyclopedia of card games and never said no to a game. She taught three generations how to play hundreds of card games. And when it came to Black Jack or poker, she’d always be there to coach you or to slide some of her change over to your side of the table when you were running low. She showed us how to think, how to be fair, and how to give someone a boost when they’re down on their luck. And winning wasn’t as important as just being happy together.

And she was a dancer. She and Grandpa loved to dance. They took lessons together at Arthur Murray, went to dances and would cut a rug at home too. Some of my best memories include all of us jumping and dancing in her living room. It was heaven to celebrate and cut loose in that house of hers with so many cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. She helped us be joyful together.

Later in life, she suffered some tough blows. She was heartbroken when her son, Bob, had to leave. He went to Arizona and, for a time, the light left Grandma Jean. But she recovered and we would all get caught up in the excitement of his returns for visits. She lost her sister Donna too soon. But before Donna left us and her health began to decline, Grandma didn’t miss a beat. She helped Donna get around in her wheel chair and made sure she was still enjoying life, even with her disability. She lost Grandpa in 2004 and her daughter Gail in 2006. Heartbroken doesn’t begin to describe the depths of her woe from losing a husband and daughter within two years of each other. But she found joy again with those of us who were still with her. She showed us how to suffer and still live on.

Despite the blows her heart received throughout life, she never missed a chance to love. She doted on her grandchildren and great grandchildren. If you take a look at the memory board, you will see many of the pictures show her with a baby on her lap. I remember her with my children when they were just wee tiny babies and she would hold them, swaddle them, coo to them, dress them up and tell me all she knew about babies. She was a lioness, providing for the young and protecting them with all her strength. She loved us all so much.

Part of her lioness strength meant that she could be confrontational. She stood up for what she believed was right. In particular, she didn’t want us to stray from her and tried to keep us all close. Many of us still remain within a few hundred mile radius from her because life is easier, better with an ally like her in your life. But she would tell you exactly what she thought of your plans to move to New York City or Timbuktu and try to work you over to keep you close. She showed us how independence was good but family was better.

And she watched over her world. I remember her last summer. She was following the story of the sparrows that took up residence on the back porch. She watched them build their nest and told us about how the mother and father birds took turns gathering materials. She let us know when there were eggs and when they hatched. She told us when the couple argued and when the kids were ready to go out on their own. She soaked up the lessons of the creatures around her.

When she did get the blues, they hit her hard. Sometimes a pep talk would help. Often times, she’d have a long bath or go shopping. For sure, a win at bingo would brighten her day. I used to play bingo with her every Tuesday morning at St. Paul’s. I’d get off work at seven a.m. and meet up with her at her house. She’d have had her bath and coffee and was ready to go. We’d go out for breakfast and head over to get the good seats. We’d win here and there but mostly, we’d just enjoy the long mornings together doing something fun. I hope you had the chance to play bingo with her. That was when you got to see her joy and experience her gentle way of showing you how to do things efficiently and easily.

And she was efficient. She worked for years at Nationwide Insurance where she focused on the best and easiest ways to do things. I’ve often heard her speak with fondness of experiences there. There she learned her job and the jobs of her counterparts so they could support each other. She got to travel to Chicago and New York City. She and her sister Donna worked there until retirement, where they received a loving send-off. But Grandma was young yet to retire. She later began helping out at Grandpa’s office, then she took various jobs at Value City and Hills, where she was able to get all the linens she could carry at a discount. She taught us to do what we love and to use our time wisely so that there would be more time for fun, for family.

Grandma Jean had a heart of gold. She was so generous and giving of her time and resources. She wanted to give each of us everything our little hearts’ desired. I’m so sad today that her body wasn’t able to keep up with her heart and mind, because until the very end of her life, she was still worried about us. She still cared how we were and if we’d had success or needed help. Her mind and heart were solid. And she showed us that even bound to a bed; we can still be of use to each other and connected to the world.

So let’s go ahead and cry today. Let’s be sad for our own great loss. Let’s hold hands and embrace. We have lost a teacher, a mother, a grandmother, a great grandmother, an aunt, a friend. In short: We have lost our rock. But what would Grandma do if she saw us so sad? She’d pull us all together at her kitchen table and get us each a pop or a bowl of soup. We could just sit and talk or get a card game going. Without her, we pebbles can band together and be almost as strong as she was. But I believe in my heart, as long as we are together and close, she is with us.

Thank you.

Aveatque Vale: Midnight Kitty

I'm sure you've probably already heard from Doc that our kitty, Midnight, was struck by a car sometime Tuesday night and died, we are sure, instantly. Those who have met us know that I wasn't crazy about this old cat. We adopted her as an adult cat in 1999 from a wealthy family. I remember going to the door of their HUGE house and waiting for the lady of the house gather up Midnight's gear while her many priviliged children stared at me.

I got Midnight in the car and she curled up shivering at my feet as we made the 45 minute drive home. She was scared at our house and she tried to hide in small places, which was tricky because she was HUGE too. Fortunately, she had a bell on her collar at that time and we could usually find her. One day, while we were at work, she got behind the dryer. I couldn't find her, but Doc did. He tipped the dryer towards him and she hopped up on it, then up on his shoulders. Ever since then, Doc has been her favorite.

Don't get me wrong, she could be nice to me if I were feeling sick. She'd snuggle up on my side or back and keep me warm. She was especially fond of me when I was pregnant. But once I had Riley and then Lucy, she and I didn't see eye to eye. I became averse to her and she to me. Every now and then, she'd attack me for no good reason. She'd just be walking past and something in her little kitty brain would just SNAP and she'd jump for my head.

But since the kids are no longer babies, she and I developed a kind of detant. Since I'm the first one up in the mornings, she would make sure I was up at least 10 minutes before the alarm went off. I'd feed her and let her out and go about my day. She'd greet me in the driveway sometimes when I got home or she'd look up and nod "hey" to me if she were in the house. She returned to snuggling with me on my puny days and we grudgingly pressed on together.

Originally, Midnight was an indoor cat, but when we got her, we lived in the country. She was itching to get out and see it all. She'd stay close to the house and was content to sleep near the bird feeders. But eventually, she'd get brave and she started crossing the street to head up the forested hill. We worried about her crossing the street. It was not a busy street, but when someone came down that road, they flew. But she survied and never got hurt.

We eventually moved to a town house in the suburbs, where Midnight didn't get to go out. We tried putting a harness on her, but she would just melt to the floor. It was very strange. She would not stand up if you put a leash on her.

Eventually we came to our current house, which has a great big back yard but is on a busy street. We've been here almost four years and all that time, Midnight has gone outside. One time she left and didn't come home for three days. But other than that, she's stuck close to home and never ventured to the front yard...that we know of.

Sadly, she must have found her bravery or curiousity drove her to try to get to the other side of the street. Adventure lured her and she took the bait. Only to be struck down on the street.

I was punched with a fistful of grief in the gut when I saw her remains. She's been a part of our family for 11 years or so and the girls have never known life without her. We've fed her, cleaned up after her, pet her, endured her moods, and tripped over her in the middle of the night. I blamed noises in the house on her rather than get scared by creaks I couldn't rightly explain. But I will miss that old girl.

Hail and fairwell, Midnight. We'll miss your imperious presence and your warmth on days we feel puny.

Aveatque Vale: Harvey Korman

God darnit, Mr. Korman, you use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore.

You will be missed.

Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead!

Karl Rove Resigns.

Edited to add: I've just been informed by a reliable source that this resignation is not about remorse and redemption. I guess the rules are, that if you don't leave the administration by September 1st, you are stuck there until the president's term ends. So, Rove is probably disengaging his Borg hardware, only to do some preventative maintainance to prepare to asssimilate the next victim...I mean candidate. Resistance is futile.

Avatque Vale, Kurt Vonnegut

I'm trying not to cry; Kurt Vonnegut is gone. Oh, shit. I am crying. This man changed my life, my perspective. He offered visions of things I'd never seen before but applied values to them that I shared. He was absurd, he was satiricle, he was obscene, he was creative, he was cranky, he was funny. The world will be a much more mundane place without him.

I discovered his writing in my first quarter of my first year in college. I was hesitant at first to read his most famous book called Slaughterhouse Five, since I am highly squeamish and overly sensitive to violence. So I started with Slapstick instead. I'd never read anything like it. I had spent most of my time in high school reading run-of-the mill fantasy books and some science fiction, but this book pushed me into an absurd world that I loved. It opened up my mind to the vast limitlessness of the imagination and the great value of the whimsical.

I read every book of his I could get my hands on. At the same time, I began reading John Irving's works with the same obsession, only to later find out that Vonnegut was Irving's graduate school advisor when they were both at University of Iowa's Writer's Workshop. I loved the stories of them hanging out together that I read in John Irving's memoirs. I would have loved to have had the chance to listen in on a conversation between those two.

Goodbye, Kurt Vonnegut. We grieve for you today. We have lost your voice of reason, your moral outrage, your sense of humor, your lovely wrinkly face, your imagination, your grasp of the ironic, your vision, your heart, and your wisdom. Thank you for all you have given us; God willing, we will preserve it.

*

Hi-ho.

*

“He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it”

Avetque Vale: Anna Nicole Smith

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to remember Anna Nicole Smith, who was taken from us too soon. Some believed that Anna Nicole was a flash in the pan, gold digging, drug abuser who lacked the good sense to come in out of the rain. You probably could count me in that group.

During her life, which was captured on a variety of media for the world to behold, I spent much of my time trying to ignore her. I noted that she was beautiful when she modeled for Guess? Jeans and then moved on with my life. When I learned that she married a very old, very wealthy man, I was not overly surprised or concerned. When she fought for every dime he had, I thought, good for her and returned to the task at hand.

When she was given her own reality TV show, I tuned in once. I was fascinated by the show The Osbornes' in its first season, and I'd hoped that Anna Nicole's show would hold as many surprises and wonders. Unfortunately, I just found it sad and intolerable. During an E! True Hollywood story, I was introduced to her family, who seemed to adore her. One family member even had Anna Nicole's face tattooed on her person. But, they lamented, they rarely saw her anymore.

Toward the end of her life, she seemed to be on a collision course with rehab. She lost her polish and tumbled about, spilling out all over. When her son died after the birth of her new baby girl, my innards cramped in sympathy at the pain of her loss. What misfortune! But, it seems these days, that celebrities are better able to pull themselves together after tragedy, addiction or behavior problems. The rehab network and AA sponsors surely are plentiful in Anna Nicole's world, I thought. I had confidence, that, like Madonna, Anna Nicole would be able to turn this around and make a success for herself.

Sadly, I was wrong. I had wrongly assumed that people such as Anna Nicole may adopt flakey or silly, or dare I say, stupid personas as their public image, but to be so successful, they had to be somewhat smart or savvy. Sadly, Anna Nicole Smith was neither of those things. She was a coarse, brazen, self-interested ninny who was surrounded by people who exploited her best. Even now, they circle her assets, looking for ways to get their hands on her money, her child.

Alas I cannot grieve for the loss of Anna Nicole. I did grieve for her losses as a mother, because stupid or no, losing a child would knock anyone to their knees. I am sad for her daughter, who is now property rather than person. Other than that, I can't really care about Anna Nicole Smith. When she died and the news of her death was all over the place, it still took me a couple of days to actually comprehend that all the anchor people were sqawking: She's dead! I had spent so much time blocking the reports of her movements from my consciousness that news of her death rebounded off my head out of pure habit of mind.

Perhaps we can be thankful that she slipped loose this mortal coil before drastic plastic surgery twisted her face beyond recognition, before her daughter suffered any damage directly from her mother's hands. Some have elevated her parting to that of Marylin Monroe's untimely death, but I wouldn't. Marylin Monroe was many things, but most of all a lady with a brain and some talent. Sadly, Anna Nicole was a one-trick pony in a celebrity world that recycles its own shallow glamour until it becomes a creature beyond recognition. From a once strong tree to rough, pounded pages in a pulp novel is our Anna Nicole.

God speed, Anna Nicole; may you do no further damage.

Avatque Vale, Bobby Knueven

You were too young to die.

I found out that a former co-worker of mine passed away after playing a game of basketball after work. He was in his early thirties and was a really terrific guy. He was our webmaster when I worked at The Ohio State University. He was a graduate of OSU and a true Buckeye. He turned me on to Spongebob Squarepants before I had kids. He had a couple of bulldogs. He loved MG's. I haven't spoken to him in a while, but he is on my AIM buddy list and I saw him there and available everyday at work. It was nice to know that, though we were far apart, we could check in with each other if one or the other of us needed a reference.

He was just so smart and funny and vital. He had had health issues and I assume those were what did him in, alas. What a loss. So, hail and fairwell, Bobby; it was way too soon for you to part.

Farewell Mr. Altman

Thank you for your many great films, but let's hope your overlapping dialogue technique is buried with you.

Avatque Vale

The Legend of C.I. Miller
My Grandpa's Eulogy

He meant so much to so many people in so many ways. I know I cannot capture everyone’s memories, but I have been listening and I have been paying attention. So in honor of this great man, allow me to share with you the Legend of C.I. Miller.

He was born Clarence Ingram Miller on August 2, 1924 to Appalachian farmers in the depths of the Scaly Mountains in North Carolina. His parents, Noah and Florence, raised him with his sister Flossie, and his 3 brothers Thomas, Edgar and Jim. They had very little but they ate good, worked hard and learned much. Grandpa, an exceptional student, was educated in a one-room schoolhouse that wouldn’t have even made a good barn, let alone a decent place to learn. I remember riding in a car as a child and whenever we passed a ramshackle old barn, we would all exclaim, “There’s Grandpa’s barn!” By reminding us of his humble beginnings and by sharing the fruits of his labor, we learned that the American Dream is possible.

After getting his eighth grade education and working in the farms, he decided to leave his home and family in order to defend our country. He joined the Navy at 17 and served in the Pacific Theater on a troop and supply transport vessel. He fought in a battle in the Marshall Islands and was one of three sailors who lived to tell about it. He suffered a very serious head wound and spent the following six months in Pearl Harbor Hospital. A very different sounding man he must have been when he left the hospital in New York where he completed his rehabilitation: learning how to walk and talk again. He earned a Purple Heart for his sacrifice.

Very soon after, Grandpa met, briefly courted and then married my Grandma Jean. Legend has it that on the way to meeting Grandpa for the first time, Grandma conned her sister Donna out of every stylish accessory she was wearing. Lucky for Grandma, my Grandpa appreciated style. I will always remember him as a dapper and handsome man. He wore a moustache, from a full blown, award winning goatee to a slide rule-perfect, pencil thin moustache. He learned to sew at his mother’s knee and used that skill to tailor his own clothes to fit his five foot five frame. His fine clothes and perfect hair enhanced his good looks. He was always the best looking man in the room. Even up to last week, he made sure he was sharply dressed and that his hair was perfect.

After he left the service, Grandpa attended Barber College on the G.I. bill. Once a barber, my Grandpa joined and became very active in the barber’s union. Because he was a very warm and joyous man, people were always drawn to him. He made friends very quickly, and he did this all of his life even after his stroke a year ago made it difficult for him to speak. With his love of his fellow man and now a cause, my Grandpa became a politician. He ran for Stark County Commissioner and worked for the Democratic Party, serving on a committee whose responsibility it was to choose nominees to run for local elections. While working as a barber, my Grandpa decided to learn how to sell insurance. He got his certificate and opened his own business, which he ran up until last summer. It eventually became known as Financial Planning Associates where he worked along side with his daughter Gail, his son-in-law Charlie, Grandma and various other family members from time to time. Throughout his working life, he was always striving to learn new things and share his knowledge with others. He trained his agents and he also taught insurance classes to college students and helped them achieve their certifications.

When he wasn’t spending time working or learning, he was spending time gardening and playing cards with his family. You can bet that all of his grandchildren and even some of his great grand children learned to play black jack before they could read. He loved to plant gardens and flowers and he was a man obsessed when it came to pruning trees. He loved to climb those fine trees in his backyard and work in the heights, sometimes surrounded by bees that never bothered him. Legend has it he took several falls from those great heights. Luckily, his Judo training in the service taught him how to fall correctly and avoid serious injury.

My Grandpa had a great love of tools. He and my Grandma used to prowl the garage sales, she for plates and linens, he for anything Stanley tools had to offer. He was a tremendous do-it-yourself-er. He found a use for all of those tools and built homes for them. He didn’t, however, have any use for instructions or guidebooks, or even the law, sometimes. He preferred to use his imagination and try to solve the problem on his own. Grandma was sure that every attempt was going to burn the house to the ground. But somehow, while not pretty, his solutions were usually successful.

Because he was wise and resourceful, our family usually turned to him in time of need. He was a very generous man and was free with whatever was in his means to offer, even if occasionally, we may not have deserved it. But he adored all of us and we knew it. He was always so full of pride and joy when we would enter the room. Whenever someone cooked a meal for him, he always blessed it and proclaimed, “This is just like downtown!” The highest compliment you can be sure.

He especially could deny my Grandma, his soul mate, nothing. From the very beginning, they knew any future they had together was a gift, as he learned from his doctors that his injuries could come back to end his life on any given day. After his stroke last summer, he really didn’t recognize anyone but her at first. Whenever Grandma left the room, he always asked where she was. She was the love of his life.

He loved their children very much. I’ve heard the tale of Grandpa watching the kids while Grandma went to card club. She came home to find the three of them surrounding him on the couch, one of them combing his hair as ice cream melted on the coffee table. This is an image that is so clear in my mind, even though I did not witness it. It will always be there to remind me that, every now and then, I need to throw out the rule book and just enjoy my children. He is the only Grandpa I know who has his own list of catch phrases. Most of them expressed his joy of life. These are our favorites: “How about those apples!” “Run, hop, skip like a bunny…let’s go! G-O-W-X-P-Q!” and at special occasions, he always wondered how the poor people were doing. He taught us to be amazed, to embrace life and to remember that not everyone had such bounty.

Over the years he has opened his home to people in need. He helped his family from the south by inviting them to stay with him until they could find work and a home of their own. My father, Jeff, his son-in-law, fondly remembers Grandma and Grandpa taking him in and welcoming him into their family during a time in his life when his own home was not a haven for him. Their side door was never locked and family and friends were welcome to enter unbidden and unannounced anytime. There was always Coke in the fridge. My Grandpa later became a landlord, combining his two passions: being a handy man and providing homes for people who needed them. He supported the handy man trade by hiring his friends to help him with jobs around his house and with his rental properties.

He was a devout Christian, although not a church-goer. He could quote any passage from the Bible on demand. He lived by the Golden Rule and loved his neighbor as he loved himself. He always kept his eye on the world by tuning in to CNN and keeping the conversation going about how the world should be. His sense of right and wrong fueled his passion for politics. Grandpa taught us that it was important to be a steward for good.

His zeal for learning was passed on to all of us. He taught the family business to his daughter Gail, who has grown her own insurance agency and who is a leader in her field and of other professional women. His daughter, Donna Kay, my mother, recently retired from her career in human resources, where she was also a leader in her professional organization. She is now a certified insurance agent working alongside Gail in her agency. Together with Grandma, they carry on Grandpa’s charitable work through the Fraternal Gleaner organization. His son, Bob, is a nurse who works with infants in intensive care and has a special gift for comforting and entertaining the very smallest of us. All of Grandpa’s children are continually learning and giving to others less fortunate. His grandchildren finished high school and have attended college. We are homemakers, writers, counselors, servants of the Lord, artists, musicians and teachers. His great grandchildren will surpass our generation to even greater heights as singers, thinkers, leaders, athletes and dreamers. And there is one thing we can all agree on: Grandpa is our hero.

I know I have not told every tale in the Legend of C.I. Miller. I hope that during our time together today, we can share those tales and continue to add to his legacy. Let’s look after one another the way he looked after us and remember the lesson of his life: Every day is a gift.