In Uncategorized on February 24, 2010 at 12:06 am
The picture above is of my Grandma Joy and her brother, who I’ve always called Uncle Ken. Uncle Ken has always been such a great man… and perhaps a little bit of a badass (in a small town kind of way). Every time Phil and I visit my Grandma, we always have a night where we play board games with her and Uncle Ken. For the past few years we have had to speak really loud because Uncle Ken doesn’t hear well anymore and refuses to wear a hearing aid (again bad-a, or perhaps stubborn). He always seems to be able to hear Grandma though. They have such a beautiful and deep friendship. They live next door to each other and drive each other crazy in the best kind of ways.
Uncle Ken has been sick for quite a few years now, and yesterday my Dad called to tell me that he had passed away rather unexpectantly. I have no words to really describe this loss other than to say the world has lost a wonderful man. Uncle Ken was the Marshall of his town’s Christmas parade this past year. In the midst of the ache in my chest I have great hope that he participated in another parade this week.
Uncle Ken may the angels lead you home…I love you.
In Uncategorized on February 22, 2010 at 2:16 pm
All the recent snow has reminded me of snow days from my younger years. My first big snow memory was from 96′ when we got a big ol storm that dropped about two feet of snow. My friend Amie had stayed over, and we had a wonderful time. I used to live next to my old church that had acres and acres of forest and fields. Amie and I traipsed all over the place. We did not have sleds that worked, but we did other fun things like tie each other to trees.
During my teenage years we had a couple of good snows. These snows were always marked by shenanigans around the church property with my friends Ashley, Joe, Dave, Blake and David. We did lots of dumb and potentially harmful things like ride down hills in a wheelchair, ride down hills that happened to be in the middle of a densely populated forest, and my personal classic doing cartwheels down steep embankments. The last one was the most painful. During these snow storms my grandma Joy always seemed to be in town visiting. She was always there to fix us hot chocolate as we came in from the cold. Hard life huh?
Nowadays snow storms can be fun at first, but I grow tired of the snow much quicker. It also has not helped that Phil and I are trying to train for the 10k on snow/ice-covered sidewalks. As I type that complaint I cannot help but think of the absurdity of my complaining, because truly I really have nothing that I should complain about.
I’m not nearly as close with any of my younger year snow buddies today. It has been interesting, and sometimes sad, to see how life has pulled us away from each other. We all grow in different directions I suppose. They are wonderful memories for me though. I may have not made them sound too fun because I am actually typing here at school feeling the pressure of not having blogged in a good while…but they were good times. In many ways they reflect the relative innocence I was blessed to grow up with. My friends were not trying to get me to drink or party. We were all more interested in physical feats and afternoons with hot chocolate. I can only hope my kids will be so lucky.
In Uncategorized on February 12, 2010 at 5:27 pm
Many of my friends in the blogging world are in the midst of 365 projects. There projects usually involve taking a picture every single day for a year. While I enjoy reading other people’s blogs and looking at their pictures I know that taking a picture every day of the year is not for me.
I do however have a 52 project that I have decided to embark upon. Working with people who are sick makes me think a lot. One of the ways social workers, hospice workers, and others within the field help people deal with dying is through the use of narrative therapy. People are encouraged to look back over their lives and reflect on their story either just to themselves and their worker or with those special in the dying person’s life. People may record their stories digitally for their loved ones to hear, people may write their stories down, people may use art, or people may create memory books with words and pictures. All this has gotten me thinking though about my life and how I will face dying.
One thing I know for sure is that I do not want to begin processing my life only once I learn that my days are coming to an end. Indeed, I may not get a heads up because I could die quickly somehow. Either way I have decided to start processing now and I’m going to keep it simple given its my last semester of grad school and life is in a word-crazy. In the spirit of simplicity I am going to share one story a week that I remember from the past 25 years of my life. I’d like to warn you in advance that the stories may not be interesting; they will simply be my stories. While I’m putting it out in a public forum, this project is in a big way something I’m mostly doing for myself. It is a way to force onto paper my life so far. It will help me remember and be thankful. After only one month at the Hawthorne I’ve come to realize that many people do not make it to 25. So here’s to the 52 project…get ready for stories that more often than not will consist of: I was nine years old. I spent my days mostly reading and trying to trick my friends into playing hide and go seek with me. They never would.
In Uncategorized on February 12, 2010 at 5:07 pm
I’m not dead. I have simply been struggling to find words recently.