Grandma has been bat shit crazy for as long as I’ve known her. Since she developed jimmy legs shes been considerably worse, the effect more acute with the onset of sundowners and a minor case of Alzheimer’s. Over the past thirty years she has been successful at driving a wedge in between her and everybody who has cared about her, an innate ability to place everybody at a distance so when it is time to say goodbye nobody would feel like they missed her.
She has been sick for some time now. So convoluted in her own past memories and pain that perhaps cruelly, maybe callously there have been several conversations that, if she were a dog, we most likely would’ve put her down, put her out of her misery.
Ma told me today she spoke with the doctors and who informed her that, with the pain medication Grandma is about to go on Gram will most likely have six months to live. For Grandma, for her mixed mash of a brain, for her tired and worn out body this will come as sweet relief.
To my Ma and Grandpa this will be the end of something far greater. She is a beautiful and strong woman. Her own mother died when she was a child, she was then raised by her sister who left her when her sister was married. She earned a degree in chemistry and parlayed that into a master’s degree in music. She taught small children, she volunteered in the church. Looking back at her now I see all of those beautiful moments that I’ve taken for granted: piano lessons, the odd book that she thought I would like, her appreciation and patience for the music I would make her listen to.
To that extent I don’t know if this is why I feel sad, hollow. Death becomes us all, it is unavoidable and for some people it is the final and only real grace they seek. It is for those of us left behind to feel this emptiness. Grieving for not being able to see her, grieving for those that have depended on her for so long.
My family is small and scattered across the Midwest. Counting both sides of the family, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents plus my immediate family, there are only twelve of us. So when the family gathers it is a time for jokes, drinks but mostly, and the greatest part, the stories. And so I’ll end this with one of my favorite Grandma stories:
Junior year of college Jordan, Greggy and I made a pilgrimage down to Madison to attend a Hawaiian party. We woke up the next day hungover, maybe still drunk but cognizant enough to make the trip over to my grandparent’s house.
We have never been a family of cooks, in fact, as a rule we generally don’t eat. However there is a rich tradition that when we do gather we go out to lunch. That day we headed to Irishman’s Bay the restaurant my grandparents ate at every Saturday. We rode over in two cars with most of my friends, probably Greggy or Dre, helping my hobbled Grandpa into the restaurant leaving me to help Grandma.
She exited the car looking perplexed, asking me if I knew where her keys were. To which I replied that the car was still running; her keys were still in the ignition. She, at least that day, had a defensible reason for being in such a state, however. My grandpa’s brother was coming in from New York with his new lady friend which made Grandma nervous and inform the table, “And I don’t even think that they drink.”
She has always been off in her own little world, though I don’t know if she has ever been comfortable, even there. My favorite line from this story takes place after we sat down at the table. She looked everybody in the eye to make sure nobody was crazy and asked in a calculated manner, “So, are the drinks ordered?”
They, of course, had been ordered. Her glass of cheep, boxed Chablis was always waiting for her at the anticipation of her coming. She is bat shit crazy. Another one of the reasons we love her.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
dreams and private myths
Jonsie sat alone by a campfire taking drags off the butts of spent cigarettes. He was trying to fit a text message into the prescribed 160 character, but couldn’t make sense of the words.
The music was turned up beyond the limits of city ordinances and he knew that he was playing on borrowed time. He started out saying that “I believe in those perfect moments where everything is beautiful, everything is illuminated.” But then had no faith in his words or rather, he wished he was writing it about something else.
Lushness in his own lyrics lambasted his head; heavy weight thoughts punched him to the ropes:
“We are all laying in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
-Oscar Wilde
“People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.”
-Bob Dylan
“There was only one catch and that was Catch-22. You would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if you didn’t want to, but if you were sane than you had to fly them. If you fly them you are crazy and don’t have to; but if don’t want to you are sane and have to fly them.”
-Joseph Heller
“I don’t believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive.”
-Joseph Campbell
“If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.”
-Lewis Carroll
“A sentimental person thinks things will last, a romantic person hopes against hope that they won’t.”
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
“Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be.”
-Kurt Vonnegut
“I’ve never had a humble opinion in my life. If you’ve got an opinion, why be humble about it?”
-Joan Baez
“Everything is clearer when you’re in love.”
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
“Time you enjoyed wasting was not time wasted.”
-John Lennon
The music was turned up beyond the limits of city ordinances and he knew that he was playing on borrowed time. He started out saying that “I believe in those perfect moments where everything is beautiful, everything is illuminated.” But then had no faith in his words or rather, he wished he was writing it about something else.
Lushness in his own lyrics lambasted his head; heavy weight thoughts punched him to the ropes:
“We are all laying in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
-Oscar Wilde
“People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.”
-Bob Dylan
“There was only one catch and that was Catch-22. You would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if you didn’t want to, but if you were sane than you had to fly them. If you fly them you are crazy and don’t have to; but if don’t want to you are sane and have to fly them.”
-Joseph Heller
“I don’t believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive.”
-Joseph Campbell
“If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.”
-Lewis Carroll
“A sentimental person thinks things will last, a romantic person hopes against hope that they won’t.”
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
“Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be.”
-Kurt Vonnegut
“I’ve never had a humble opinion in my life. If you’ve got an opinion, why be humble about it?”
-Joan Baez
“Everything is clearer when you’re in love.”
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
“Time you enjoyed wasting was not time wasted.”
-John Lennon
Monday, September 17, 2007
Battleground Any Town, USA
SOMEWHERE IN WISCONSIN- Fires are visible now from both camps and a smell that might be something chemical is wafting from where most of the troop has gathered. This is most likely the roasting of the large animal that was trudged in during this mornings march. Occasional sounds of laughter erupt as crass and crudely crafted jokes come across the distance in their guttural language.
Animosity began between the two camps when Mr. Ford decided the choice of bivouacs then was disputed by Mr. Densmore. Further aggression was caused by an exchange of words that included but was not limited to: tenure of camping, weight and height comparisons, between both gentlemen, and the nature of Bud Light versus Miller Lite.
While the Ford camp boasts greater numbers the Densmore camp surpasses them in technological reasoning and quantity of beer. I have been informed by members of the Densmore camp that their larger cache of beer, in the past, has lead to grudging peace. Becky Densmore informed me while waiting to “break the seal” in the DMZ/out-house area, “[The Ford encampment] always doesn’t remember to bring, you know, enough of their like crappy beer. Then, around two in the morning one of those guys will come here and stuff. And then they’ll all come here. It’s good family time. They just are too stupid to know it. That and they’re all inbred bastards.”
Peace, in this form, may be harder to come by this year. Last year,fed up with having to provide beer to the Ford family, the Densmore camp continually slipped the Ford visitors alcohol free beer. This action almost caused the 2007 installment of the family camping trip to be cancelled en total.
Reactions from the Ford camp have been staunch. Matriarch of the Ford family and avid whiskey drinker, Rose Ford, informed me, “Let’s see them guys try to make me a non-alcoholic whiskey and then I’ll shove it up their non-whiskey ass. I would rather pass out than deal with them.”
But, of course, during all of these times of strife there are the children. Little twelve-year old Derek Densmore, who according to family by-laws is not eligible to drink until next year, was seen sneaking off into the woods with his cousin Emily Ford. When Darrel Ford, father to Emily, was informed of this new development he commented, “Well, at least then the family would only have to pay for one wedding.”
Senior expert on Ford-Densmore relations, Lynnabelle Richter, went on record saying that “This is really just a melee compared to Christmas when the confines of both clashing sects are pulled closer and brought under one roof. The rough outline that is typically agreed upon by both families is based upon feats of strength and longevity of drinking.”
Still, nights like tonight are not without their share of special moments that arouse continual hope that both sides might one day cohabit in peace. Responding to multiple noise complaints Park Ranger Stephen Eau Claire approached the Densmore camp in an attempt to quiet them. Members of the Ford family were quick to rush to the aid of their insulted brethren and both parties saw members taken prisoner to an area detention center. A bipartisan detachment from both the groups is now purportedly planning a clandestine mission to place the sugar, intended for tomorrow’s pancakes, into the gas tanks of all Park Rangers cars.
This article is also available on The Spoof.com
Animosity began between the two camps when Mr. Ford decided the choice of bivouacs then was disputed by Mr. Densmore. Further aggression was caused by an exchange of words that included but was not limited to: tenure of camping, weight and height comparisons, between both gentlemen, and the nature of Bud Light versus Miller Lite.
While the Ford camp boasts greater numbers the Densmore camp surpasses them in technological reasoning and quantity of beer. I have been informed by members of the Densmore camp that their larger cache of beer, in the past, has lead to grudging peace. Becky Densmore informed me while waiting to “break the seal” in the DMZ/out-house area, “[The Ford encampment] always doesn’t remember to bring, you know, enough of their like crappy beer. Then, around two in the morning one of those guys will come here and stuff. And then they’ll all come here. It’s good family time. They just are too stupid to know it. That and they’re all inbred bastards.”
Peace, in this form, may be harder to come by this year. Last year,fed up with having to provide beer to the Ford family, the Densmore camp continually slipped the Ford visitors alcohol free beer. This action almost caused the 2007 installment of the family camping trip to be cancelled en total.
Reactions from the Ford camp have been staunch. Matriarch of the Ford family and avid whiskey drinker, Rose Ford, informed me, “Let’s see them guys try to make me a non-alcoholic whiskey and then I’ll shove it up their non-whiskey ass. I would rather pass out than deal with them.”
But, of course, during all of these times of strife there are the children. Little twelve-year old Derek Densmore, who according to family by-laws is not eligible to drink until next year, was seen sneaking off into the woods with his cousin Emily Ford. When Darrel Ford, father to Emily, was informed of this new development he commented, “Well, at least then the family would only have to pay for one wedding.”
Senior expert on Ford-Densmore relations, Lynnabelle Richter, went on record saying that “This is really just a melee compared to Christmas when the confines of both clashing sects are pulled closer and brought under one roof. The rough outline that is typically agreed upon by both families is based upon feats of strength and longevity of drinking.”
Still, nights like tonight are not without their share of special moments that arouse continual hope that both sides might one day cohabit in peace. Responding to multiple noise complaints Park Ranger Stephen Eau Claire approached the Densmore camp in an attempt to quiet them. Members of the Ford family were quick to rush to the aid of their insulted brethren and both parties saw members taken prisoner to an area detention center. A bipartisan detachment from both the groups is now purportedly planning a clandestine mission to place the sugar, intended for tomorrow’s pancakes, into the gas tanks of all Park Rangers cars.
This article is also available on The Spoof.com
Monday, September 10, 2007
Secrets of the Forest
Astral Ninja scratches his faithful slave Pedro behind the ears, a move his feline companion both hates for its’ demeaning qualities and adores for its’ sensation. With lack of a better comment, Pedro removes a clove cigarette and brings it to life.
Astral Ninja sets down and looks over all that is before him. Peace like a river becomes him. Grace from the great canvas of the world sings in stories before him. Possibilities within dreams; dreams inside of their possibilities twine together in thick hair pulled high off the shoulder with a rubber band. He closes his eyes to take it back in, then removes pen and parchment from his satchel and writes.
The letter is, he knows, a foolish exercise. It is written to extend and savor the delicious, amborsial acts of words and emotions that spiral through the abyss of his mind, placing them all into the permanence of ink. This is the creation of something visual to satisfy another one of his senses; a point to concentrate on, to channel, to communicate with. These words scrawled on paper feel more vulnerable, more true, more like a gift he could leave for others to discover. A little bit of soul dust from me to you.
Pedro, beside him, removes another black cigarette and fires it. Astral Ninja looks for inspiration, setting his eyes on the cliff in the distance that looks like a lower toothed smile. He removes another sheet of paper and begins to write the words again, this time in a more legible, careful caress. Words pour off the paper but he feels like he could say more. That by saying something more this will enable all the twisted emotions to make sense or come true.
He agonizes over the words again, copying over the letters on the page, emboldening them until the grip of the pen indents itself onto his hand. Sloppy, ink tears kiss the page and are wiped into background as he continues.
Then he rests. The madness that both calms and en-flames him churns on, coping with other ways to say it all over again. Pedro stamps out the clove but the ember still blazes.
“The eye on the prize.” Astral Ninja says then, for no good reason.
Astral Ninja sets down and looks over all that is before him. Peace like a river becomes him. Grace from the great canvas of the world sings in stories before him. Possibilities within dreams; dreams inside of their possibilities twine together in thick hair pulled high off the shoulder with a rubber band. He closes his eyes to take it back in, then removes pen and parchment from his satchel and writes.
The letter is, he knows, a foolish exercise. It is written to extend and savor the delicious, amborsial acts of words and emotions that spiral through the abyss of his mind, placing them all into the permanence of ink. This is the creation of something visual to satisfy another one of his senses; a point to concentrate on, to channel, to communicate with. These words scrawled on paper feel more vulnerable, more true, more like a gift he could leave for others to discover. A little bit of soul dust from me to you.
Pedro, beside him, removes another black cigarette and fires it. Astral Ninja looks for inspiration, setting his eyes on the cliff in the distance that looks like a lower toothed smile. He removes another sheet of paper and begins to write the words again, this time in a more legible, careful caress. Words pour off the paper but he feels like he could say more. That by saying something more this will enable all the twisted emotions to make sense or come true.
He agonizes over the words again, copying over the letters on the page, emboldening them until the grip of the pen indents itself onto his hand. Sloppy, ink tears kiss the page and are wiped into background as he continues.
Then he rests. The madness that both calms and en-flames him churns on, coping with other ways to say it all over again. Pedro stamps out the clove but the ember still blazes.
“The eye on the prize.” Astral Ninja says then, for no good reason.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Janice
A question was put to me over this Labor Day weekend from a women no less, no need for a big build up on this one lets just get straight to it.
For the safety of all parties involved I will use very Common names so I don't embarrass anyone.
Our Heroine of the Story let's call her Janice.
Janice and Bob have been married for 15 years happily Bob is just your overall nice guy helps old ladies across the street, all that kind of jazz after hanging out with Bob on several different occasions he is devoted to his wife for instance Bob and I were out for a guys night out tossing back a few drinks at a bar no wife, he doesn't even try to stare at other women when they walk by and
NO!!! Ladies I don't encourage or instigate any type of deviant behavior from a married man I find that tacky I wouldn't try to drag this guy to strip Club or anything of that nature I may be a lot of things but Balddee respects a persons choice with that disclaimer out there lets continue.
There is something very interesting about women they seek to confide in each other I mean to the level where it's uncomfortably odd in some respects it seem needy but that's another Blog where was I.
Oh yeah women tend to confide in one another and Janice is no different, she has a friend aquance named Sue. Friend Aquance?
I had to know what that means what she told me is that women have three categories for there Amiga's
#1 Friends
These are there Secondary Sisters these are the Godmothers; these are the women they would swim Shark infestifed waters for you get the point.
#2 The Acquaintance
These are the ladies they have to keep in contact with either because of there Work, in-laws tend to fall in this category these are the people they always say "Call me lets do lunch“ but you never do that because they really cant stand that person.
And then there's this.
# 3 FriendAquance:
Obviously, this is a made up word to describe that secret person, in a women’s life this is that person who they don’t bring around group # 1 because that group would chastise you no this friendaquance you bring around Group #2 cause a friendaquance is someone who you have that cheating passion for so they make you look like you got it going on.
"Why not call them your secret Lover?" I asked.
Janice replied, " Cause that means you care to much, that means you love them, that means there's more to what's going on then there actually should be."
Yike's!
So you may see where this is going but hang tight kids it takes a turn.
For the safety of all parties involved I will use very Common names so I don't embarrass anyone.
Our Heroine of the Story let's call her Janice.
Janice and Bob have been married for 15 years happily Bob is just your overall nice guy helps old ladies across the street, all that kind of jazz after hanging out with Bob on several different occasions he is devoted to his wife for instance Bob and I were out for a guys night out tossing back a few drinks at a bar no wife, he doesn't even try to stare at other women when they walk by and
NO!!! Ladies I don't encourage or instigate any type of deviant behavior from a married man I find that tacky I wouldn't try to drag this guy to strip Club or anything of that nature I may be a lot of things but Balddee respects a persons choice with that disclaimer out there lets continue.
There is something very interesting about women they seek to confide in each other I mean to the level where it's uncomfortably odd in some respects it seem needy but that's another Blog where was I.
Oh yeah women tend to confide in one another and Janice is no different, she has a friend aquance named Sue. Friend Aquance?
I had to know what that means what she told me is that women have three categories for there Amiga's
#1 Friends
These are there Secondary Sisters these are the Godmothers; these are the women they would swim Shark infestifed waters for you get the point.
#2 The Acquaintance
These are the ladies they have to keep in contact with either because of there Work, in-laws tend to fall in this category these are the people they always say "Call me lets do lunch“ but you never do that because they really cant stand that person.
And then there's this.
# 3 FriendAquance:
Obviously, this is a made up word to describe that secret person, in a women’s life this is that person who they don’t bring around group # 1 because that group would chastise you no this friendaquance you bring around Group #2 cause a friendaquance is someone who you have that cheating passion for so they make you look like you got it going on.
"Why not call them your secret Lover?" I asked.
Janice replied, " Cause that means you care to much, that means you love them, that means there's more to what's going on then there actually should be."
Yike's!
So you may see where this is going but hang tight kids it takes a turn.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Calahan and Buxton... Together Again?
SALEM, CONNECTICUT- Friends of Miranda Carahan and William Buxton had fears re-woken last Friday that the couple might be getting back together. After a party at the Stoltz residence it appeared the couple had a conversation that did not end in an angry argument or thrown objects.
Long time friend to the couple, Brenda Graff, was willing to go on record saying “Every time they break up they always need somebody’s shoulder to cry on… every time that they get back together they want everybody to be happy for them.”
Craig “Shotty” Shotliff, best friend of Buxton, indicated he did not know how many times they had broken up and gotten back together. “It sucks when we go to the bar and try to pick up women and [Buxton] talks a big game then gets drunk and kills the mood by ending up talking about Mira. Worst wingman ever.”
Several other friends of the couple were quick to reiterate these comments.
“We have tried everything to keep them separated.” Leigha Borgart, continued “Last time Mira’s sister tried to set her up with Chuck Grenovich so she could get a new relationship going or just have somebody to fuck.”
Charles Grenovich, a man of certain morale deficiencies within the Salem community, only provided Buxton with a sense of jealousy and prompted him to actually say the things that had never been said. There is much speculation that this is the driving force behind the Carahan and Buxton relationship being back on again.
Overheard at the Stoltz party has been some indication that marriage may result if the couple gets back together this time. From a source that wished to remain anonymous “Will and Mira feel that if they have a kid together it will give them something really permanent to base their relationship on.”
Still, as exit polls from the party would indicate, the odds of Calahan and Buxton working out their relationship are slim to none. Nick Carraway was willing to admit, “I’ll give them a week and then I see the two of them breaking up again. It could even happen as early as tomorrow. Still, it does give us a reason to drink.”
But all might not be ending on a bad note, as partygoer, Clark Grabel, was willing to note, “I hope it doesn’t work out. I’ve been waiting for Mira to get over Will for a long time so I can usher in the new era of Clark Grabel into her life.”
Long time friend to the couple, Brenda Graff, was willing to go on record saying “Every time they break up they always need somebody’s shoulder to cry on… every time that they get back together they want everybody to be happy for them.”
Craig “Shotty” Shotliff, best friend of Buxton, indicated he did not know how many times they had broken up and gotten back together. “It sucks when we go to the bar and try to pick up women and [Buxton] talks a big game then gets drunk and kills the mood by ending up talking about Mira. Worst wingman ever.”
Several other friends of the couple were quick to reiterate these comments.
“We have tried everything to keep them separated.” Leigha Borgart, continued “Last time Mira’s sister tried to set her up with Chuck Grenovich so she could get a new relationship going or just have somebody to fuck.”
Charles Grenovich, a man of certain morale deficiencies within the Salem community, only provided Buxton with a sense of jealousy and prompted him to actually say the things that had never been said. There is much speculation that this is the driving force behind the Carahan and Buxton relationship being back on again.
Overheard at the Stoltz party has been some indication that marriage may result if the couple gets back together this time. From a source that wished to remain anonymous “Will and Mira feel that if they have a kid together it will give them something really permanent to base their relationship on.”
Still, as exit polls from the party would indicate, the odds of Calahan and Buxton working out their relationship are slim to none. Nick Carraway was willing to admit, “I’ll give them a week and then I see the two of them breaking up again. It could even happen as early as tomorrow. Still, it does give us a reason to drink.”
But all might not be ending on a bad note, as partygoer, Clark Grabel, was willing to note, “I hope it doesn’t work out. I’ve been waiting for Mira to get over Will for a long time so I can usher in the new era of Clark Grabel into her life.”
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