Author: Keith Javia

Boys On Bikes

NOTE: This is not the subject planned for release this week. But the experience is too good not to share. Stay tuned for what will likely be a two-part travel log beginning next week (Sorry, Jan).

A Ray of Hope in a Troubled World

Back in June, when I was in Clear Lake for the Galilean gig, a woman came up to me where I was playing guitar on a park bench at the sea wall to put a $5 bill in my guitar case. I’m a professional! I told her it wasn’t necessary but she dropped it in the case anyway. It is still there as a reminder that what I do matters in some way to others.

On Wednesday of this week I was playing music in the garage as is my usual daily venue, but with the added activity of smoking chicken hind quarters on my Weber. It was after five in the afternoon, the normal time when parents with babies in buggies, parents with dogs, children and adults on motorized skateboards, bicycles, and scooters, all enter and exit the park on the walkway across from my driveway. And though many wave and smile, few stop to listen or interact with me in any other way.

Two boys on bikes were lingering a few hundred feet away on the walkway. Then, here they came, stopping at the street to make sure it was clear of the vehicles that travel much too fast on the long, straight residential street. They appeared to be between 10 and 12 years old. I was still playing as they entered the driveway, talking at me though I could not hear what they said. I finally stopped playing.

Cynical me started thinking of all the things kids might say and do that, frankly, I might have done as a youth. So when the taller, blond boy asked “Do you mind if I ask you something, not trying to be mean?”, my mind began to race. Would he complain about the smoke, or chastise me for using the smoker in the garage? Or would he complain that I was too loud playing, telling me to keep it down, that I might be disturbing those who were taking advantage of the beautiful day in the park. I feigned a smile and said “sure.”

“Would it be okay to give you some money for playing so good?” the boy asked while holding out his hand. The second, shorter, dark-haired boy chimed in to say, “It’s only change, about 45 cents.”

My heart melted as I looked at these two young men sincerely offering to reward my playing with what might be their soda or candy money. Of course, I declined their offer. Thanking them for the gesture. “Just your offer is wonderful. No other payment is necessary. Really, it means a lot to me.”, I said as they mounted their bikes to leave. The blond with the change smiled as they rode away.

I know I am not alone in being too quick to judge others before knowing their hearts. Preconceived notions based on my own ignorance and fear. Somehow I know that my aging has something to do with making it worse. Two young men who might have been here to harass me, instead gave me a huge compliment.

A ray of hope in a troubled world. These two youth (or “yoots(s)” as Joe Pesci would say in My Cousin Vinny) are part of the future of our society, our planet! Maybe not all is lost for them. It is nice to see some good in the midst of the negative news of our day. May yours be also blessed!

On and On Life Goes

The heat has broken. It finally feels like autumn, though still no rain here. It’s been two weeks since returning from Atlanta. Home alone reality is setting in. Pam passed away nearly sixteen months ago. Apparently, life goes on.

If there is a new normal, hopefully this isn’t it. To do lists have many checked boxes. Though there is more to be done before winter sets in. Daily routines are established, varying slightly from week to week for appointments and brief getaways. But the familiarity and comfort of established norms do not stave off the sadness and ache of missing Pam, nor the sorrow of her missing out on life. In some way, it seems the intensity has grown.

So much has been written describing grief, many pictures and animations. One such depiction arrived this week in a text message.

What to make of this? Where’s the fit? If the graphic is accurate, the message true, then some point along a continuum should be recognizable. But not. Life apparently goes on, but has yet to grow big enough to assuage the pain of loss. Conversely, if grief diminishes over time, apparently life must go on a long time before it begins to smother the grief. Either way, it’s a struggle to relate.

Sometimes anger wells up amidst the sadness and sorrow. How could she be taken away?! Were we not all the better for her presence in this life? Yes, we were! Yes, we are!

On the Other Hand

Better memories of Pam are emerging as time passes. Earlier pictures are reminders of happier times. Every one depicting the beautiful person she was, a beacon of kindness and compassion. One should hope to be such a person. Though she was so loving, and so loved, she was so much better than she ever thought she was. That, too, is part of her beauty.

So all is not just gloom and doom. Life cannot be all bad (though the news sources seem to differ) when such amazing people sojourn among us. We just have to recognize their positive contributions to our lives; enjoy their nature. Live to honor their lives. Live in hope that the circle will somehow, some day, grow to comfort us, to buffer us from the pain and sorrow of our grief.

Further Reflection

All of the above was written earlier in the week. Consideration was given to tossing it all out as being too depressing. But no. It stands as is. But said again, all is not just gloom and doom! Much enjoyment comes from the home we shared, now home alone. Much joy is felt when talking to and being with family and friends. Neighbors are friendly and encouraging. Autumn is a beautiful time of year in Iowa. And though it foreshadows winter, it also holds its own beauty for us to enjoy.

Now. Here’s the test. Can you figure out the missing word in this week’s post? You may post a comment in response. Or, if you would like to submit your guess privately, send a message at wutjavia@gmail.com.

Have a great week!!! Here’s hoping for happier topics as life go on.

Writer’s Block!

Cliche? I suppose. But descriptive none-the-less. Many ideas crisscross in my mind, flitting this way and that. Some just disappear. Others, I summarily dismiss. I could use the excuse that I was traveling last week and didn’t have time to write. But that would be only partially true. Truer still is that I couldn’t even decide on a topic.

I could write about my trip to Atlanta to visit family and help around the house while my sister recuperated from her surgery. The visit was good. My sister came through great. It was a nice visit. But I don’t feel like discoursing our interactions or daily activities while I was there. I did get to see Oppenheimer with two of my sisters. That was a special time to share together. Good movie.

I thought about laying out my thoughts about bacon, kinds, types, flavors, and how I missed it while away. I have a couple slices nearly every morning at home. We discussed bacon at the dinner table one evening. The topic of beef bacon came up. Click the link if you are interested. Personally, I prefer “real” bacon. My favorite is Hormel Black Label Cherrywood Thick Cut. I buy it a dozen at a time at Menard’s when they have it. I could go on with this topic, but don’t deem it worthy of more.

I’ve been thinking a lot about a new normal, hoping for extended emotional stability, enough so that I recognize various phases, ups and downs; consistency, rather than in throws. But I haven’t found it yet. Maybe I’ll be able to write about that when I recognize it – if it is found. Meanwhile, I am still day by day, not dwelling too much on the past nor looking too far into the future. Both directions give rise to discomfort that I can only tolerate in small portions.

Not only am I rambling because I don’t have clear direction, but I am reverting to the dreaded “I” at the beginning of my paragraphs. Yep. Take a look. And though I am hard on myself for being egocentric and unworthy of praise, I continue to receive compliments for looking good (maybe for my age?), for my efforts to help others, and the gift of music and song. But knowing myself, I have to downplay the accolades because they feed my egocentricity. Kind of a vicious circle. I do, however, appreciate others’ kind words, and know that without them, I would probably be very depressed in deed!

So, even with writer’s block, I managed to write 419 words leading up to this paragraph. I guess it means that the title is apt. I wrote about a bunch of unrelated thoughts because I have no other clear topic.

Well, hopefully next week. I did hear from some readers who wondered if I would have a post since the normal Saturday deadline had come and gone. Even knowing that my no-posts are missed, makes me feel a little better. Now I’m off to get back in the groove. Search for topics gleaned from my daily life.

More musings of a wandering mind.

Have a great week.

Caregiver vs. Caretaker

(Not to be confused with undertaker.)

From my reading, it appears that the differences between a caregiver and a caretaker are subtle. Two significant differences are that a caretaker’s charge might be an animal or a building rather than a person, and that the caretaker expects to be compensated for their efforts.

Both caregivers and caretakers aid people needing assistance with daily tasks, from doing laundry and preparing meals, to personal hygiene and grooming needs. But the caregiver is typically more emotionally invested, expecting no reward, than the caretaker who’s primary motivation is their own need, i.e. monetary compensation. This is not to say that caretakers are not caring or empathetic, nor emotionally attached to their charges. Nor is it true that caregivers are never compensated. Thus continue the subtle differences between the two. In fact, the two terms are often used interchangeably.

Distinguishing between the two became a topic of conversation for my sister and me during my recent visit to Atlanta. She IS my Mother’s caregiver, having taken her into her home over four years ago. My sister needed a medical procedure that required a recuperation period in which she could not lift or twist her upper body. And though her husband often assists with daily responsibilities, and our sister provides weekly respite relief, they also work and are unable to be “on call” for daily tasks.

And so I offered to help out. Shortly after my arrival, I began relearning the routine implemented to provide for my Mother’s needs. I would execute it while my sister and her husband were away. So when the day arrived I got up early to ensure that breakfast was on the table just so, and I was ready to help with her inhaler.

As the day progressed, I realized I had transitioned seamlessly and nearly effortlessly back into the caregiver role I learned while caring for my late wife, Pam. Seamless because I only realized it later in the day. Nearly effortless in that Mom’s needs are different than Pam’s, and my sister’s home is laid out differently and the kitchen configured differently than my home. Otherwise, my demeanor, and the methods I employed to care for my Mother, came back naturally.

Reflecting, later, on this transformation, I made two observations. First, I learned valuable skills while caring for Pam that I could use to assist others as a part-time caregiver/caretaker if I so choose. Second, I have neither the desire nor will to be a full-time caregiver again.

As I revisit the caregiver role, and observe and talk with my sister, I am reminded of the emotional and physical toll being a 24/7 caregiver takes. One truly has to put another’s needs about one’s own, even potentially at physical and emotional detriment.

My sister’s procedure was successful and without incident. I continue to assist with Mom’s care, and also with helping my sister do those tasks she should not be performing while recuperating.

I am thankful that my sister’s procedure went well. I am thankful to have the opportunity to step in when her physical need could not be delayed – could not be ranked below Mom’s care. I am thankful for the knowledge, wisdom, and compassion I learned while caring for Pam, though I wish it had not been necessary! But I also realize that if someone close to me has need, I could and would transition back into a caregiver role with little or no hesitation.

Windmill Choreography

A brief history of windmills

Images of windmills through history

A list of popular/famous windmills includes two in Pella Iowa.

I’ve been traveling a lot over the past few months. It seems nearly everywhere I go where there is flat land or vast rolling hills, there are modern windmills standing like sentinels along highways and byways. Some are near, some far, often in line, dotting the countryside and farmlands. Some are still, their blades turned away from the wind. Others’ blades rotate with the prevailing winds and breezes. I remember counting water-pumping windmills on farms as our family was sardined into the family station wagon between Kansas and Iowa. Just one of the many road games we played to keep occupied.

Heading east on I-80 through Iowa last week I passed a wind farm (a loose term) spread over miles of farmland adjacent to the highway. For some reason I took note of how different the individual towers reacted to the wind that powers them. Though it would seem they should all be facing the same direction and rotate at nearly the same speed, that was not the case. Not including those whose blades turned away from the wind, others, even in line, rotated at different speeds, some with blades facing different directions. Man-made machines dancing with the wind. Inanimate objects led by one of nature’s most powerful forces, creating a unique choreography between man and our mother earth. Cruising the county roads on my recumbent cycle years ago, I was able to get close to some of these towering generators, close enough to hear the whoosh of their blades cutting through the air. Another unique aspect of the dance between technology and nature.

Having decided on this week’s topic over a week ago, I set out on an off-paved-road adventure on Tuesday. I knew approximately where the aforementioned wind farm is, and retraced my path, this time using county roads rather than interstate. Eventually, I came upon one of the giants near Marengo.

Onto the rural gravel road I ventured, heading west into farmland dotted with towering fans watching over crops and farmsteads.

LOVE THIS PIC!

A gorgeous Iowa summer day only enhanced the experience of chasing the perfect view of these 300 foot stalks, large enough at the base to hold a family vehicle, tall enough to carry three, 200 foot blades each.

Can you see them all? And what’s up with these four in the foreground, facing different directions and turning at different speeds?

Looking east. The prevailing breeze from the west. I had to wait for the road dust to clear before taking this pic.

Speaking of choreography, look at those two in the distance. They were probably about a quarter of a mile apart and spinning at different rates and sequence.

It is difficult to capture the majesty of these giant turbines, stabbing the summer sky while watching over the August corn, disturbing neither man nor animal.

I was unable to get too close without trespassing. I hoped to hear the whoosh of the blades. Try it. Turn up the volume while watching. Hear the birds?

What man made to ease our reliance on fossil fuels, wind choreographs a dance and a song. I may be treading on my political safety net, but doesn’t it seem logical to gather energy from less toxic natural sources like wind and sun? Iowa is among the top three wind produced energy states in the nation. Though I don’t have much to cheer about Iowa these days, I am proud of this achievement. I am aware, however, that there are still challenges recycling blades, etc. Hopefully, our free-market economy will find a way to make it financially viable to do so.

Existing amongst these man-made giants is not quite like the swaying of branches or the rustling of leaves, but seeing them from the highways and byways is a treat. I am happy to share this positive experience with you, contrasting emotional challenges I typically convey. I hope you, too, enjoy. Maybe you can take a road trip of your own to visit some rural areas near you and experience some positive coexistence between man and nature, like – windmill choreography.

P. S. I had the opportunity to drive past the decommissioned Duane Arnold Nuclear Power Plant near Palo IA the other day. I hoped to snap a pic of the cooling towers to contrast with the windmills. Unfortunately, those have been demolished. Only an exhaust chimney remains. I think the property is being transformed into a solar energy farm. And yet, there were signs along the county road with the words “Commercial Wind Farm” and a 🚫over the top of them. Okay. I get no pipelines, nukes, coal, even natural gas. But what’s wrong with wind and solar?

She Won’t Be Back Again

Much as I want to share my experiences on other subjects, like Windmill Choreography, I cannot escape my feelings of emptiness and loss. Today they spilled out in some poetic form. I’ll work on travels and windmills, family and friends, beauty in life (and death), and other such things. But today I woke to a description of my current reality. And thus I share.

She Won't Be Back Again

From dreamless sleep I waken
But the nightmare continues
She won't be back again

The sun is shining
The breeze is blowing
But the nightmare continues
She won't be back again

I see her in her children
Grandchildren carry on
And the nightmare continues
She won't be back again

Talking to an empty room
The pain of her absence lingers
And the nightmare continues
She won't be back again

Looking at pictures of her
She smiling back at me
But the nightmare continues
She won't be back again

Laying down to slumber
Dim the lights, mute the sound
Dreamless sleep a solace
In the morning the nightmare resumes
She will never be back again

I continue to cry. So many reminders do me in. The world continues to turn. Its inhabitants go on with their lives. So many seemingly impactful events unfold every day. I am aware of them but they seem less important than my grieving. And though I still wear the grease-paint, “I hurt all the time deep inside.”

Next week I’ll have another opportunity to be more cheerful in my musings. One can hope! Until then, know that I continue to ride the wakeful waves of dreams and nightmares. I hope for good dreams and wakeful states for all of you this week and beyond.

“Veteran Cosmic Rocker”

The final cut from Long Distance Voyager by The Moody Blues, along with its two preceding songs, are among my all-time favorites. They reflect the internal turmoil of a performer. However, they are also reflective of struggles I am confident we all wrestle with, at least from time to time. No doubt this series of recordings influenced my creation of Chameleon, which describes a person who changes colors to fit into various social situations.

For many years I described my musical affinity as the “Veteran Cosmic Rocker.” Even today, I can relate to keeping a smiling face and demeanor as I struggle with so many new challenges in my life. I invite you to read the lyrics and listen to the combined YouTube video.

Painted Smile

I can sing, I can dance
Just give me a chance
To do my turn for you
There's a chance I'll slip
But with stiff upper lip
I'll sing my song for you
Laughter is free
But it's so hard to be a jester all the time
And no one's believing I'm the same when I'm bleeding
And I hurt all the time deep inside
I've shed a tear for the lying
While everyday trying
To paint this smile for you
Backflips, cartwheeling, somersault feelings
What is there left to do?
Laughter is free
But it's so hard for me, a jester all the time
No one's believing I'm the same when I'm bleeding
And I hurt all the time deep inside
Roll up, roll up, enjoy the show
Pick me up, wind me up, put me down
You'll see me go
And this painted smile
May miss for a while
Then come back and steal your show
I sing, I dance
Give me a chance to do my turn for you
With backflips, cartwheeling, somersault feelings
What's there left to do?
Laughter is free
But it's so hard to be a jester all the time
No one's believing I'm the same when I'm bleeding
And I hurt all the time deep inside
Laughter is free
But it's so hard to be a jester all the time
No one's believing I'm the same when I'm bleeding
And I hurt all the time deep inside

Reflective Smile

Your painted smile hides you still
While you search yourself within
Yesterday and tomorrow's found
Fused as one upon solid ground
As all around the milling crowd
Confuse themselves with raging sounds
And their loves forgetfulness abounds
So be thankful for your greasepaint-clown
If loneliness wears the crown of the Veteran Cosmic Rocker

Veteran Cosmic Rocker

The lights go down, the stage is set
The man in the wings breaks out in sweat
A backstage joker spiked his coke
While the dressing room was full of smoke
A crowd of fools got him high
He's afraid he's gonna die
He's the apple of their eye
He steps into the remaining light
Crowd go wild, he's out of sight
Arms held high in the sign of peace
His manager signed the one night lease
The house is full getting high
He's afraid he's gonna die
He's the apple of their eye
He's the Veteran Cosmic Rocker
He steps into the remaining light
The crowd go wild, he's out of sight
Arms held high in the sign of peace
His manager signed the one night lease
The house is full getting high
He's afraid he's gonna die
He's the apple of their eye
He's the Veteran Cosmic Rocker
He's afraid that he will die

Moody Blues: Painted Smile~Reflective Smile~Veteran Cosmic Rocker video

Can you relate to these words? Do you like the music?

I played an open mic at West Music Thursday night. The most difficult aspect of performing is to calm my nerves. Past that, I must channel the situations and feelings that prompted me to write the songs at all. Focus. Keep within the words and music. Forget about the audience, though not completely. Eye contact. An occasional nod. A smile. Get my fingers to hold and pluck the strings. How do I get through a cramping hand? But I have to focus on the words.

These are only some of the challenges as I work on this major effort of my new life. Fear. Doubt. Sadness. Guilt. Expectation. You get the idea. It’s no wonder that performers are torn between their personal lives and their public personas. Supposedly, we have gifts. But they come at a cost. Just like everything else in all of our lives. Sometimes we are gifted. Sometimes we make choices. Regardless, we deal with them. Sometimes in the open, sometimes behind the veil of a smile, like the “grease-paint clown.”

Thanksgiving in July

(Welcome to Kelly)

If retailers can create sales called “Christmas in July”, I can call for “Thanksgiving in July?” Though it should probably be in June. I’ll chalk that up to artistic license.

Nearly two weeks past my gig in Clear Lake, I am still reeling from emptiness, sadness, and guilt. It is common for me to have a letdown after completing a challenging goal; that, combined with the spiral grieving process (though at times it feels more like a roller coaster!). Nor surprise that I am off.

I miss Pam intensely. I am sad that she is unable to watch her grandchildren grow into adulthood, she cannot watch Adalynn, our next door neighbor child, frolic on her new swing set, or to share times with family and friends, or go on the road with me. I feel guilty for moving forward with my life without her, even though I know in my mind that she would want me to.

Adalynn with Blue
Adalynn the Princess

In the midst of this despair I found myself giving thanks for many of the same things I rue during loss. You may thank God, the universe, even your lucky stars. Regardless of attribute, it is enlightening and healthy to be thankful.

First and foremost, I am thankful for my family. Just being able to have relationships with siblings, daughters, sons, grandchildren, in-laws is worth many thanks. And thanks to them for – being. Each person is a gift full of gifts! I am thankful for their support, for believing in me, for their compassionate ears and encouraging words.

Pam and I were happily married for over 25 years, for which I am truly thankful. Being with Pam taught me about unconditional love, deep love, letting go love. I cannot imagine a better mate. I am forever changed for the better because of her.

I am thankful for my health. Sure. I have a few “getting older” issues, but how can I complain when I know so many with far worse ailments. So far, I am still able to do the things I love, like play guitar and sing, and walk and hike. I can drive my car (which I also enjoy), and eat and drink “normally.” Health is at the heart of maintaining good quality of life, for which we all strive.

A modest home in a friendly Iowa town. Living across the street from a park and a pond – with trout! Good neighbors. So much more to be thankful for.

Which leads to how I live. Always striving to live within my means. Thankful that I can afford the things I have and am able to share my gifts with others.

My music continues to be a sustaining force in my life. I am thankful for the gift of music, my ability to play, and create music and lyrics that are cathartic for me and convey messages that others can relate to. I am thankful for the people I’m meeting as I play. From those who pass on the streets and walks as I practice in my garage, to those who patiently listen at more formal venues. I am grateful to be able to share myself, as representing thoughts and emotions of others.

So much to be thankful for! Whether it’s June, July, or any other time of the year. When I’m feeling down and out, It’s good to recognize and articulate what I am thankful for. How about you?

P. S.

OMG Look what came in the mail this morning. Guess I’m not the only one. 😉 They say they can provide six meals for every dollar donated. North Liberty Community Pantry is a cause I contribute to often.

Check ✅

Bucket list item? Goal? Dream? Commitment? Yep. All of those. My gig at Galilean Lutheran Church in Clear Lake was a success. I played one song during the service and 21 during the performance. Many stayed to listen. And while a few left after the first set, several friends, and family who all drove in for the event, thank you very much, stayed for the entire time.

A surreal perspective engulfed me as I played. It was hard to believe I was actually there performing. Fortunately, I enjoy playing my music and sharing my life with others through song. I got into it easily and made relatively few, minor mistakes, probably even fewer that were noticeable. Feedback was positive, with several people expressing their like for the songwriting. Overall, the consensus was that I should go forth and do more.

There were several stress indicators in the weeks leading up to the event. A gout flareup, trouble sleeping, and sadness for missing Pam. I know she would have been happy, and would have enjoyed the experience. I know I would not be who I am, doing what I am, without her love and encouragement. Last Tuesday was Pam’s birthday. Two days after the show. That, too, was looming in my heart and mind as the day approached.

Reflecting on my experience and feelings in the days after the show, extreme sorrow, and some guilt, overtook me. I realized that, though Pam shared it, this was my dream. My fulfillment. I felt that I hadn’t listened well enough to Pam expressing her dreams, that I didn’t do enough to make them come true.

Of course we had common dreams that we hoped would become real during our years of retirement. I like to think we would have made those, and Pam’s come true. Unfortunately, we have little control over the universe, the world, our lives. I would trade, in a heartbeat, all of who and what I am now to be with Pam again.

As I pondered these shortcomings, I found myself saying:

“I could have loved her better, but I could not have loved her more.”

I’m not sure that makes sense, but it sounds good and might even make good song lyrics. I love Pam deeply. I know that. But I certainly could have done it better, listened better, given more of myself to her.

Other lyrics I’ve written express Pam’s beautiful being that I aspire to, but will probably never achieve:

“You treat others better than yourself. Thinking more of them than you.”

The “others” and “them” include me. Now I can only try to do better. I cannot change the past. But I can impact my future. And in doing so, positively impact other’s lives as well. I hope!

“What’s next?” You might ask. After a few days of relative rest (that means playing only occasionally instead of for hours each day), I will start working on new material that I’ve already been writing and plucking, along with polishing several songs that have been sitting for months and years. I hope to record the remainder of my current play list so that I can share the newer songs that are not yet posted. I’ll be looking for open mics around the area to gain confidence and exposure. No, Linda, I’m not headed to Nashville yet. 😉

Debut

Tomorrow, I will fulfill a commitment I made a year ago to prepare my music and play in public, when I perform up to 24 original songs at the church where Pam and I met and married. I didn’t realize at the time, about a month after she died, that following through on a dream of performing publicly while traveling around Iowa and beyond, would become such an important part of my grief journey.

Pam and I loved to drive the back roads to towns and eating establishments. We hoped it would be a significant aspect of our retirement. Fun travels. And I would ask hosts and barkeeps if I might sit in a corner and play. With Pam’s passing, I decided to keep the dream alive.

I’ve been working/playing nearly every day for a year leading up to this point. Tomorrow is my debut. I’m not sure where I go from here, but I’m working on new goals like recording the rest of my current play list, as well as polishing another group of songs that have been on a back burner for years. Playing at open mics will help keep sharp what I have been working so hard to develop.

Attempting to share more of me through my music, I have updated my Songs page to include all of the songs from Catching Up on Life, recorded in 2013. Hopefully, that page will grow significantly over the next few weeks/months as I record more of my current repertoire.

This is a bittersweet occasion. So many memories, hopes, emotions, challenges, and now, fulfilment. My love, Pam, made this all possible. She listened (probably more than she wanted). She encouraged. She dreamed along with me. She allowed me to be me. Even in death Pam’s love for me, and mine for her, helped me get through the roughest times and begin to create a future for me, without her. A future that still includes her through memories and songs. Songs of love and affection about and to her.

I will play on. For Pam. For me. To share with all of you who might listen. I am humbled and hopeful.