September 24, 2009
Loss, bitterness and renewal
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Last Friday toward the end of my shift the owner flagged me down and told me that my wife had called. She wanted me to call back before I left work, he said. "I'm not real good at discerning these things, but I think she had been crying."
Of course I was worried right off the bat, but I knew if it had been an emergency that obviously Jen would have asked to speak with me right away. I only had a few more things to finish up until I was done for the night so I made haste with that and called home. She was upset because she got the news that a former co-worker of mine, not a very close friend but much more than an aquaintance, had just lost her husband, her 10-year-old daughter and her brother in an auto accident. "I just wanted to hear your voice and to tell you that I love you and to be careful on your way home," she said.
After clocking out I numbly walked to the car and broke down. I was stunned by the news that the lives of two people that I knew (I had never met her brother) had been instantly and violently ended and by how her life is now so painfully fragmented by the loss of not just one or two but three loved ones.
The typical "public" events that follow death were in this unusual case augmented by a candlelight vigil two nights after the accident. Despite this area experiencing some of the heaviest rain seen in years, 300 people attended the ceremony. Forces beyond our control (lack of babysitter) had Jen and I decide that only one of us could go, but then forces of nature (flash flooding) caused us to opt out altogether. All things considered it was a wise decision, as a mutual friend posted Facebook updates on being stuck at the church until 2 a.m. due to the high water. I heard another former co-worker's account of attempting to navigate a flooded road on the route home and nearly losing his vehicle in the current.
A funeral home visitation took place two nights later, but as I was scheduled for work Jen decided she would make an appearance, if only a brief one because of the necessity to have child in tow. I am grateful that she was able to talk with our friend briefly to express sympathy and say simply that when the storm abates a little in a few weeks or even months (I envision at least partly cloudy skies for the rest of her life) to give us a call and we'll get together.
I was only able to attend the funeral service at the church today. This is the one event I would have chosen last, for the selfish reason that I am not comfortable among those trappings. I had to breathe deep often to counteract the swelling grief in me for this wife and mother and her remaining 6-year-old daughter (an anchor that is surely keeping her sane). There were such unfathomable sights today - of a little sister too young to fully grieve, of the slightly older friends and school mates, faces red and streaked wet, who have little to no context in which to frame their intense feelings of loss. I was heartbroken by the thought of them having to deal with something so incomprehensible, by a "why?" so far beyond a relatively normal death like that of a grandparent.
This all has left me in a tough place because, although my life experience has caused me to eschew religion, I am still a "want to" believer in the grand purpose of our race and our space. I consider myself basically an agnostic deist - I have zero need for dogma yet I am hopeful that a benevolent, laissez-faire higher power has something else in store for us beyond what we perceive in this life (and that "beyond" should not be obsessed upon). The funeral left me struggling with bitterness at the raspy-voiced old fire and brimstone preacher who turned from that tack and proclaimed that "this is the day that the Lord has made - let us rejoice and be glad in it." It's bitterness toward what BS I think that is but also somewhat toward having lost the faith of those who can comfortably lean on that B(lis)S. Actually, I am glad to have been released from what I see as ignorance in many instances, but I think I need to allow others their faith, free from my prejudice, so they can do the good they are capable of and I can release the bitterness that only hinders me from doing the same.
I haven't found the perfect happy medium where I can just let go of my anger toward religion and pursue that peace that passes all understanding, to paraphrase Paul née Saul of Tarsus. I know that internally I've got work to do. Being a father is beyond a doubt aiding this work very positively. As for externally, well it'd be a tough row for Jesus to hoe, since he (and/or his representatives) have burned me no less than twice. But I feel like there is a corner to be turned up ahead, and it's like Jen told me, "don't begrudge anyone praying for you - it can't hurt."
Ask for a burning bush or a Virgin Mary waffle.
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Labels: death, friends, religion, tragedy
December 25, 2008
He sees you when you're sleeping
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With love from the O' Tims
For you, Big Guy
(I figure with a full tummy you can handle driving on one beer,eh?)
Happy Christmas, Blogovia ! !
With love from the O' Tims
For you, Big Guy(I figure with a full tummy you can handle driving on one beer,eh?)
Labels: family, festivities, food, friends, frolic, fun
September 23, 2008
The Monthly Max (Sept. vol. II)
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We're back, and we had a wonderful time, if a bit of a whirlwind tour. It's always nice to see family for an auspicious occasion like a wedding, especially with the thought in the back of the mind that inauspicious occasions for family assembly will only increase in the coming years.
The outdoor ceremony was gorgeous with weather that could not be beat, and a good time was had by all at an equally gorgeous reception at a country estate overlooking an estuary of the Chester River. It was wonderful to party with the cousins but sad to leave out the next day without much time for sightseeing.
Max was a pretty good little traveler up until getting to Dulles for the return flight, whereupon he had the biggest meltdown of his toddler career. Poor kid was tired beyond tired. He still recovered pretty quick, but it was touch and go there for a few hours.
I shot more video than I did still photos, so there's not much beyond these:
.
We're back, and we had a wonderful time, if a bit of a whirlwind tour. It's always nice to see family for an auspicious occasion like a wedding, especially with the thought in the back of the mind that inauspicious occasions for family assembly will only increase in the coming years.
The outdoor ceremony was gorgeous with weather that could not be beat, and a good time was had by all at an equally gorgeous reception at a country estate overlooking an estuary of the Chester River. It was wonderful to party with the cousins but sad to leave out the next day without much time for sightseeing.
Max was a pretty good little traveler up until getting to Dulles for the return flight, whereupon he had the biggest meltdown of his toddler career. Poor kid was tired beyond tired. He still recovered pretty quick, but it was touch and go there for a few hours.
I shot more video than I did still photos, so there's not much beyond these:
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Labels: family, friends, fun, Max, photography
March 10, 2008
We be FREAKIN ! ! !
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The event of the season has arrived! March Movie Madness 2008 is upon us! This year it's a fethtival of 64 comedy classics, with yours truly again providing the hard-hitting commentary that freaks need to know the score. Get your Big Lebowski (not an endorsement, though it could be) over to Film Freaks Film Club and see what all the hoopla is aboot.
To set the mood, a clip from my dark horse candidate:
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The event of the season has arrived! March Movie Madness 2008 is upon us! This year it's a fethtival of 64 comedy classics, with yours truly again providing the hard-hitting commentary that freaks need to know the score. Get your Big Lebowski (not an endorsement, though it could be) over to Film Freaks Film Club and see what all the hoopla is aboot.
To set the mood, a clip from my dark horse candidate:
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Labels: comedy, film, friends, fun, madness, movies
March 04, 2008
The inimitable* D-Cup...
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...has a wonderful flurry of favorite Rethuglican hypocrisies flying in her comments section over at Politits. Go - listen - learn - contribute. Now.
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* Would that she were not so inimitable, for then we would have a world of bigger breasts, clean(er) living and kick-ass blogs. I'm doing my part, mostly on the former.
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...has a wonderful flurry of favorite Rethuglican hypocrisies flying in her comments section over at Politits. Go - listen - learn - contribute. Now.
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* Would that she were not so inimitable, for then we would have a world of bigger breasts, clean(er) living and kick-ass blogs. I'm doing my part, mostly on the former.
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February 10, 2008
Flights of fancy
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For the first time in the 20-plus years since I lived on the west coast, I tried my hand at disc golf. M and S had been after me for a while to accompany them to a decent course at Cloudland Canyon State Park up on Lookout Mountain, and today was a February day in Georgia not to be spent dithering indoors. Like me, M and S are natives of the Great White North, and we had a chuckle when S announced that the predicted high temperature for Minneapolis today was minus nine. Nope, t-shirt and a fleece pullover, even though a bit breezy, was enough to keep us comfy down h'yar.
Here's M showing off his most awesome tee shot of the day - a tough dogleg left between trees that he could only have sailed more perfect if he had put it in the basket in one. M is quite the player, not having been out in months he scored near par for the 18-hole round with a couple of birdies. That is one under par for you golf nomenclaturally-challenged. He prolly would've done better if S had not flashed him on one shot, totally rocking his concentration. I attempted to counter the effect of wifely titties by also flashing him, but it seemed not to improve things - my beer belly obviously detracts from my lovely breasts.
S is no slouch on the disc links herself. What she lacks in power she makes up for with these cool 'S' shaped throws (maybe she should get a cape and some tights) that wind up deadly straight down the fairway. As a southpaw she often has the advantage around obstacles or from certain directions of wind.
I had a slightly worse than mediocre round, garnering a few pars but more than a few double and triple bogeys. This was my best shot of the day - a long approach around some trees that quite luckily skittered up close to the pole.
For decades the game has been played with specialized discs, appropriately weighted and shaped for various shot conditions like teeing off, mid-range and even putting. The geekier enthusiasts can be seen lugging a sport bag with eight or nine different discs tucked within, perhaps not unlike the regular sport of golf. As long as motorized carts and cigar-chomping white Republicans don't begin dominating the links I guess I'll be okay. I recall playing as a teen with just regular Frisbees, something I'm a bit more adept at tossing. The regulation discs are much smaller and stouter, and I have as yet to acquire the consistency needed to crush M like a femur beneath a city bus.
Oh, but the day will come, laddie!
.
For the first time in the 20-plus years since I lived on the west coast, I tried my hand at disc golf. M and S had been after me for a while to accompany them to a decent course at Cloudland Canyon State Park up on Lookout Mountain, and today was a February day in Georgia not to be spent dithering indoors. Like me, M and S are natives of the Great White North, and we had a chuckle when S announced that the predicted high temperature for Minneapolis today was minus nine. Nope, t-shirt and a fleece pullover, even though a bit breezy, was enough to keep us comfy down h'yar.
Here's M showing off his most awesome tee shot of the day - a tough dogleg left between trees that he could only have sailed more perfect if he had put it in the basket in one. M is quite the player, not having been out in months he scored near par for the 18-hole round with a couple of birdies. That is one under par for you golf nomenclaturally-challenged. He prolly would've done better if S had not flashed him on one shot, totally rocking his concentration. I attempted to counter the effect of wifely titties by also flashing him, but it seemed not to improve things - my beer belly obviously detracts from my lovely breasts.
S is no slouch on the disc links herself. What she lacks in power she makes up for with these cool 'S' shaped throws (maybe she should get a cape and some tights) that wind up deadly straight down the fairway. As a southpaw she often has the advantage around obstacles or from certain directions of wind.
I had a slightly worse than mediocre round, garnering a few pars but more than a few double and triple bogeys. This was my best shot of the day - a long approach around some trees that quite luckily skittered up close to the pole.
For decades the game has been played with specialized discs, appropriately weighted and shaped for various shot conditions like teeing off, mid-range and even putting. The geekier enthusiasts can be seen lugging a sport bag with eight or nine different discs tucked within, perhaps not unlike the regular sport of golf. As long as motorized carts and cigar-chomping white Republicans don't begin dominating the links I guess I'll be okay. I recall playing as a teen with just regular Frisbees, something I'm a bit more adept at tossing. The regulation discs are much smaller and stouter, and I have as yet to acquire the consistency needed to crush M like a femur beneath a city bus.
Oh, but the day will come, laddie!
.
Labels: friends, fun, outdoors
November 05, 2007
A good HOOT was had by all
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We couldn’t have asked for more at this past weekend’s Back Porch Hootenanny at Cherokee Farms. We had great weather, great music and great people. I can’t express my gratitude enough to T-Dawg (peace and blessings be upon his name) for doing what it took to get at least one rockin’ event up there this year.
The musical highlights were many – Delta Moon was as solid as ever, Ralph Roddenbery’s energy indicates that he must be getting younger with time, and the quasi-Vaudevillian Newgrass that is Snake Oil Medicine Show kept things bouncing ‘round the room until the wees. I was most impressed by Aussie bluesman Geoff Achison, who is gracing the south with his presence for a couple of years. He is a very energetic and innovative guitarist, and I would not be surprised to see more fame come his way.
The humongous bonfire was essential after the sun went down and the clear skies above vacuumed out the day’s warmth. There were lots of smiles, good cheer, drums, guitars, and more good cheer going around even after the official gigs ended. Our host did finally make an appearance. By the time I saw Smokey he was - how shall I say? – well-oiled, and not far from being escorted to bed by his equally lubricated lady friend. The thing about Smokey is that he was probably up at 6:00 chopping wood. It was great to see the usual suspects and the new happy faces alike. Fellow Georgia blog friends D-Cup and her hubby Mathman made an hour’s trek north to join the fun for a while. I look forward to another gathering where they can spend the night and get the "full effect."
We’ve made plans for some more camping this winter out at the Farms, but the music, as far as paid talent goes anyway, will have to wait until spring (right, T-Dawg?).
Some impressions:
The view before
Evurbuddy's buddies at the HOOT!
Using his powers of geometry and chemistry, Mathman saves Propane Matt from the evil charcoal
Beware of fire-breathing blue beavers
It's the most foul, cruel and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on!
The view during
A talented Aussie bluesman
Artistic endeavors during the Medicine Show
The Ponds share some Snaky Oily love
We couldn’t have asked for more at this past weekend’s Back Porch Hootenanny at Cherokee Farms. We had great weather, great music and great people. I can’t express my gratitude enough to T-Dawg (peace and blessings be upon his name) for doing what it took to get at least one rockin’ event up there this year.
The musical highlights were many – Delta Moon was as solid as ever, Ralph Roddenbery’s energy indicates that he must be getting younger with time, and the quasi-Vaudevillian Newgrass that is Snake Oil Medicine Show kept things bouncing ‘round the room until the wees. I was most impressed by Aussie bluesman Geoff Achison, who is gracing the south with his presence for a couple of years. He is a very energetic and innovative guitarist, and I would not be surprised to see more fame come his way.
The humongous bonfire was essential after the sun went down and the clear skies above vacuumed out the day’s warmth. There were lots of smiles, good cheer, drums, guitars, and more good cheer going around even after the official gigs ended. Our host did finally make an appearance. By the time I saw Smokey he was - how shall I say? – well-oiled, and not far from being escorted to bed by his equally lubricated lady friend. The thing about Smokey is that he was probably up at 6:00 chopping wood. It was great to see the usual suspects and the new happy faces alike. Fellow Georgia blog friends D-Cup and her hubby Mathman made an hour’s trek north to join the fun for a while. I look forward to another gathering where they can spend the night and get the "full effect."
We’ve made plans for some more camping this winter out at the Farms, but the music, as far as paid talent goes anyway, will have to wait until spring (right, T-Dawg?).
Some impressions:
The view before
Evurbuddy's buddies at the HOOT!
Using his powers of geometry and chemistry, Mathman saves Propane Matt from the evil charcoal
Beware of fire-breathing blue beavers
It's the most foul, cruel and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on!
The view during
A talented Aussie bluesman
Artistic endeavors during the Medicine Show
The Ponds share some Snaky Oily love.
Labels: family, friends, frolic, fun, HOOTenanny, music, wildlife
July 14, 2007
I turned in my notice
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My last day will be the 10th of next month. Jen and I went over the budget, and although we’ll need to engage in some serious sacrifice, the decision for me to become Mr. Mom is in force. The drive behind this change is the fact that having waited until I was past 40 to become a father makes it eminently desirable to stay home and raise my son, rather than assign a large portion of my paycheck to someone else for doing that. Oh, speaking of paychecks, if it wasn’t already obvious, Jen’s is much larger than mine. She is regretting having to return to work next month, having spent all but about a week since February on maternity/summer break at home caring for the boy. She is jealous of me, and I can’t blame her. I hope she will temper that with her knowledge of how hard the stay-at-home parent job is.
As for work, I will miss two of three things - my duties and my co-workers. I will not miss the company. Their spectre of non-chalance toward our little cog in the machine has in fact brought me to the brink of burnout. Two and a half years is at least a year too long to be in the position I hold. I would likely and gladly have made it a career if it provided career-worthy compensation, but they prefer the turnover of an endless string of baby-step college grads. Miz UV once made a funny list of books she wished had been written, and I laughed hard at the one she dubbed “Don’t Forget To Plan For A Career, Dumbass!” I am thankful for getting hired by the best boss I’ve ever had, because this position affirmed that I am capable of doing something that I love as opposed to being resigned to toiling away my days in a visionless occupation (big bucks or no).
I’m not sure what will become of the relationships with some of my co-workers. This is the smallest workforce I’ve ever been a part of – less than a dozen people, and other than a very good friend I met three jobs ago, I’ve never been one to go beyond some occasional post-workday libation with the people I work with. But here about half of us took to hanging out successfully, though I’m not sure if the bonds have become permanent or even if they’re supposed to (if that makes any sense). I’m mindful that the success was pre-baby, with most of it in the admittedly shallow form of fun, so I suppose time will tell if there is to be continuance in the midst of infant parenthood, i.e. much less time for fun. Another aspect is that I was the newcomer among them, and interestingly enough the strongest bond for me has been with another guy who came after me, leaving me to wonder on occasion if there is some hierarchy yet unrealized. There has also been some upheaval and drama with the recent sudden breakup of one fellow and his wife. Their abode was kind of the social nerve center of our group, and it was gone in a virtual flash, leaving all of us in a bit of a flounder with the awkward social implications that are part of most every divorce. The re-group has been interesting, especially since I am the second among what is certain to be three persons leaving their position. Anyway, life will go on, and like so many other capsules of time in one’s life there will at the very least be some good memories. So thanks, folks (if any of them still read my highbrow blog).
.
My last day will be the 10th of next month. Jen and I went over the budget, and although we’ll need to engage in some serious sacrifice, the decision for me to become Mr. Mom is in force. The drive behind this change is the fact that having waited until I was past 40 to become a father makes it eminently desirable to stay home and raise my son, rather than assign a large portion of my paycheck to someone else for doing that. Oh, speaking of paychecks, if it wasn’t already obvious, Jen’s is much larger than mine. She is regretting having to return to work next month, having spent all but about a week since February on maternity/summer break at home caring for the boy. She is jealous of me, and I can’t blame her. I hope she will temper that with her knowledge of how hard the stay-at-home parent job is.
As for work, I will miss two of three things - my duties and my co-workers. I will not miss the company. Their spectre of non-chalance toward our little cog in the machine has in fact brought me to the brink of burnout. Two and a half years is at least a year too long to be in the position I hold. I would likely and gladly have made it a career if it provided career-worthy compensation, but they prefer the turnover of an endless string of baby-step college grads. Miz UV once made a funny list of books she wished had been written, and I laughed hard at the one she dubbed “Don’t Forget To Plan For A Career, Dumbass!” I am thankful for getting hired by the best boss I’ve ever had, because this position affirmed that I am capable of doing something that I love as opposed to being resigned to toiling away my days in a visionless occupation (big bucks or no).
I’m not sure what will become of the relationships with some of my co-workers. This is the smallest workforce I’ve ever been a part of – less than a dozen people, and other than a very good friend I met three jobs ago, I’ve never been one to go beyond some occasional post-workday libation with the people I work with. But here about half of us took to hanging out successfully, though I’m not sure if the bonds have become permanent or even if they’re supposed to (if that makes any sense). I’m mindful that the success was pre-baby, with most of it in the admittedly shallow form of fun, so I suppose time will tell if there is to be continuance in the midst of infant parenthood, i.e. much less time for fun. Another aspect is that I was the newcomer among them, and interestingly enough the strongest bond for me has been with another guy who came after me, leaving me to wonder on occasion if there is some hierarchy yet unrealized. There has also been some upheaval and drama with the recent sudden breakup of one fellow and his wife. Their abode was kind of the social nerve center of our group, and it was gone in a virtual flash, leaving all of us in a bit of a flounder with the awkward social implications that are part of most every divorce. The re-group has been interesting, especially since I am the second among what is certain to be three persons leaving their position. Anyway, life will go on, and like so many other capsules of time in one’s life there will at the very least be some good memories. So thanks, folks (if any of them still read my highbrow blog).
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Labels: friends, parenthood, work
