Tag: Love

California – Not a Bust – California Dreamin’

(The second in this 3-part series to chronicle my recent trip. Just a short post)

Though the drive was mostly enjoyable, the vacation really began upon arrival at California Dreamin’s house. Once I parked the car at the motel, Hotlanta and I didn’t have to do anything the entire time we were there (except me playing music). OMG! A real vacation. What’s up with that?! Snacks, drinks, open air, patio with a view! Ah.

Within a couple hours, travel snacks ingested, we were strolling along Seacliff State Beach in Aptos. The beach and campground sustained significant damage from winter storms, destroying the pier and further sinking the ship which lays prostrate just off the shoreline. But the weather was clear and “warm”, the air hinting of salt, and the sounds of the waves rolling up on the sand. After more food, drink, and live music – me – we retired for the day. Too much fun!

With California Dreamin’ and her husband as travel guides, we ventured into the “country” for a hike in the woods on day two. Another beautiful day in the hills with plenty to gawk at including a redwood stand and a mighty Eucalyptus, both for which I lay in the path to take the shots. I even talked to the trees, thanking them for – being. Too much fun!

More food, drink, and music – the second day.

Happy Birthday, California Dreamin’! With more family joining in, we celebrated with balloons and decorations, gifts, and of course, food, drink, and music. The party continues – the third day.

Our last day with California Dreamin’ was pretty much rinse and repeat with even more family to see and share in the festivities. We had such a great time catching up with everyone.

As you would expect, the time went too fast, much of it just talking, munching, and feeling like family. It is wonderful to have healthy, happy relationships with siblings (all of them!) and their families – the fourth day. Too much fun!

Though this leg of the journey was most important and enjoyable, I won’t go into detail about our family interactions, making this the shortest of the three related posts. I’m sure you understand.

Stay tuned for part three of California – Not a Bust posting on Monday, June 26th

California – Not a Bust – Too Much Fun!

This is the first of three posts for “California – Not a Bust” chronicling my trip to CA for my sister’s birthday. These posts will publish on successive days beginning Saturday, June 24, 2023.

Why Trip Out?!

My California Dreamin’ sister just celebrated a milestone birthday. My Hotlanta sister wanted to be there for the celebration. I chose to go to satisfy birthday wishes for both. Hotlanta’s birthday falls on the anniversary of Pam’s death, May 12th. I wanted to give her a special gift so that she knows that I totally differentiate the two events. Making the trip was a win, win, win for the three of us and we got to see several family members as a bonus!

Getting there was fun – but not even half!

Planning well in advance reduces travel stress. But I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived in Sidney, NE the first evening to find that there were no rooms available anywhere close. Glad I had a reservation! It turns out that a matriarch of the Cabela family died a few days prior. The funeral was scheduled for the next day, but the viewing and Wake began the evening I arrived. I thought it was funny seeing several men in black suits, white shirts, and skinny black ties come out of the motel as I was entering. Lots of hustle and bustle inside.

Mary Cabela was one of Cabela’s’ founders. The Cabela family is from the area and is large. Apparently the motels were packed with extended family, friends, and probably a host of loyal customers.

My son and I were in the original Sidney Cabela’s in 2002. It was a sprawling one-story structure that looked like a strip mall on the outside, and a maze of rooms with various “departments” of sporting goods of nearly all types spread throughout. Cabela’s has since sold to Bass Pro Shops.

Day two brought a nearly immediate smile as the topography quickly changed to bluffs and pastures west of Sidney. The flats of eastern Nebraska faded in my rear view as I rose further above sea level, viewing small flocks of prong-horn amongst grazing cattle, some near enough to catch their gaze, others like polka dots in the distance. Too much fun!

Mountains loomed like low-level storm clouds in the distance as I approached Cheyanne, WY. Snow pack was still prevalent atop the taller ranges to the southwest. Before long I saw snow near the highway as I continued to gain altitude and began to weave my way through the rocky ranges.

To my delight, mountains surrounded me for the rest of my journey to Salt Lake City, my second stop. Wind and rain welcomed me as I traversed the city, ending up on the west side where I could see the Lake’s low water level from my motel room. Wind and rain continued into the night, the American flag in front of the building snapping so loud it woke me in the middle of the night.

The morning brought calm, sunny weather, ideal for the next leg of the journey. I drove along the south end of the lake for miles, as it transformed into salty desert landscape, flat as a table top, with mountain ranges surrounding both near and far. I didn’t realize that I was heading for the Bonneville Salt Flats until I came to the exit for the flats and the Bonneville Speedway. Though I’d traveled through here in 2006, I didn’t remember seeing them. Too much fun!

I continued west to Reno, NV through mountain passes and vast desert land, smiling the whole way. Fair weather, comfortable car, Goin’ Mobile.

I wish I could say that the entire journey to the south of the bay on day four was a pleasure. But as expected, California driving is not a California dream! Traffic picked up as I approached the state line, headed toward Sacramento. On west from there for a while then a sharp turn south toward San Jose. Traffic. Interstate parking lots for no apparent reason. Yep. Just what I expected. The one positive part of this experience was the presence of flowering shrubs and Eucalyptus trees in the medians and along the shoulders of the interstate. Unfortunately, I couldn’t gawk for fear of hitting another sardine in the tin, or the or the tin itself!

My sister chose to fly to CA, approximately nine hours door to door. I chose to drive three and a half days. We arrived at California Dreamin’s house within an hour of each other. Let the party begin!

Stay tuned for part two of California – Not a Bust posting on Sunday, June 25th

On the Road Again

Hmmm. Sounds like a song. Oh, wait a minute…

But true, none-the-less. I was in the car for most of the week. It’s difficult to write while driving. Hopefully, I am gathering material for future posts along the way. Consequently, this will be a short post, what Pam used to call a “lick-and-a-promise” type of post (though she was referring to cleaning the house).

So I would like to take this opportunity to convey my thanks, once again, to all of you, my faithful followers, for your continued reading. But also for your continued positive feedback for my subject matter and my writing. Wut Javia, including my writing, sharing music, and other aspects of my life, has become an integral part of my grieving process. Not only is it an outlet for working through my thoughts and emotions, but a medium for honoring Pam’s life; the life of the most amazing, caring, and truly nice person I ever met.

Thank you. Without your participation and encouragement, this past year would surely have been a much darker, more difficult path to navigate.

My current travels exemplify the process of moving forward with life. With an eye on the past with Pam, I am purposefully opening myself to experiences that might become part of my new life without her. I know this is what she expected of me, hoped for me, and approves of. I hope that I can live the rest of my life in a manner that continues to honor hers.

Just before leaving, I turned to look at my living room and said, out loud, “I know you are not here anymore. But I am taking you with me.” I did smile.

(Happy Birthday, Cheryl!!!)

Touching Pictures

Pun Intended

Looking at pictures of Pam and me, in the house and in digital format, I realized that we are touching in nearly every picture. I’ve been holding on to this idea for the right time. I think it’s now. I hope you find them touching also.

I love this picture because, as with several others taken on our wedding day, I was looking at my lovely bride rather than the camera. Sorry for the poor quality. It has probably been scanned more than once.

Arm in Arm – What a beautiful bride!

I think we were living in Aurora IL at the time this pic was taken. Tom invited us to meet them somewhere North of the Quad Cities. A beautiful place. He used to take his kids fishing there, I believe. But notice how we are sitting. One hand waving, the other resting on my leg. Ah. Young(ish) and in love!

“God’s Pond” as Pam’s brother Tom liked to call it

On the Chicago River in a tour boat waiting to depart. Don’t we look cool! I think that is the Wrigley building in the background. This was a farewell visit to Kara and Chris before they left for a work assignment in the UK. Unfortunately, we never got the tour. The engine wouldn’t start and there were no backup boats available. But it was a fun time and, as usual, we also enjoyed being together.

I just keep thinking this was taken at The OP (Other Place) in Clear Lake, probably around the year 2000. We were happy. Shows, doesn’t it.

Christmas at our Mason City house. Definitely still feeling like newlyweds!

It may be hard to tell if we had our arms around each other for this pic, but I’m making the assumption. I consider this a record of the pinnacle of Pam’ career. When we moved to Mason City from Aurora so I could teach at NIACC, Pam got the Executive Officer position at the Greater Mason City Board of Realtors(R). Mike Romig was president of the board at that time. A few years later, Mike was nominated and was elected to be President of the Iowa Association of Realtors(R). This made the local association responsible for the annual inauguration gala in West Des Moines. As EO for the association, it fell upon Pam to coordinate the event. Of course, it went off without a hitch. And, of course, Pam planned and stressed, and coordinated and stressed, and detailed and stressed. You get the picture (no pun intended).

This picture was taken in the hotel ballroom. I had just surprised Pam with the necklace as we prepared to come down to the gala. I was so proud of her!

From Our Travels

Yep. Still close! I think I’ve shared this pic before. It was taken in the upper room of a converted barn restaurant in Grant Wood country.

Speaking of Grant Wood… Okay. It’s not us touching, but Pam is holding the farmer’s arm. That has to count for something. I’m pretty sure this was actually taken during a different trip than the one to the barn. The American Gothic House is well South of the barn.

Stone City General Store Pub is such a fun atmosphere with good food and a majestic setting along the Wapsipinicon River in Eastern Iowa. Pam and I went there on multiple occasions as it was a peaceful, picturesque drive easily fit into a day trip. Still glued at the hip. The years only strengthened our bond.

One of my all-time favorites! Taken just a few years ago this picture epitomizes the long-lasting love Pam and I shared, even as some PD symptoms emerged. Holding hands. Looking into each other’s eyes. Smiling lovingly.

I loved life with Pam. We enjoyed our life together. We loved being with each other. What could be better?!

But I certainly was not the only recipient of Pam’s touching love. Please allow this great pic of Pam and daughter Kelley to represent the love she had for all of her family; never shy to hug nor demonstrate her love and care, be it with cards, food, smiles, or just by listening.

Arm in arm. It was a good day.

Touching pictures. They mean so much, and demonstrate so much. It is nice to be in touch with good memories. May I say, again, how much I love Pam and miss her?

Commemorative Camping – Part Three- To the Bridge and Home Again

This is part three of a three-part article being published on successive days beginning Saturday, May 20, 2023

The Bridge

The route to Pam’s bridge, as I like to call it, is familiar. Not only have I traveled it a couple times in the last year, but Pam and I had traveled the same route on the way to family reunions and visits in the past. With temperatures in the lower sixties and grey, somewhat foggy skies, the weather well suited my general disposition as I approached the family farm, and thus the bridge, on the gravel roads coming from the Northeast.

Though I’ve been to the bridge enough times to remember how to get there, I was further aided, especially in terms of distance and time, by my now well-functioning Google Maps. Even so, anticipation swelled as I approached. First, the tree line along the entrance road, the farm house, and some outbuildings. Then, turning west to see the winding creek and guardrails along each side of the rural gravel road.

Numb! No tears. No words. Just me, blankly staring into the water just as I did a year ago. I dropped a daisy branch and watched it float north, turning east and out of sight as it wound its way onto the family farm property. I tossed another, the only yellow daisy branch. To my surprise, it stuck in the mud next to the water looking as though it was planted and meant to be there. A thin ray of emotional sunshine.

I tossed a third branch and enjoyed the calm as it floated away and, once again, out of sight. I pictured how Pam’s ashes filled the stream as they, too, followed the same waterway to the north, then east into the farm. Just as she had wanted.

Three more branches. What should I do? I had wanted to bring living daisies to plant but was unsure whether they would make it even a year. So I decided to “plant” a branch at each end of the bridge’s guardrail. The ground was soft, and gravel loose enough from recent rain. Yeah. This is good!

Now I’m down to one daisy branch. But I’d been there only a little while, definitely not ready to leave! So I plucked each flower stem and slowly dropped each one in its own time into the water, watching as they floated northward. Still no tears; no words. But maybe a little more at peace with letting go, as I have the flowers. Moving on without Pam and yet having her with me all of the time, just not as either of us had wanted.

Alice’s Restaurant

No, not the one in Arlo Guthrie’s song. It is, as far as I can tell, the only restaurant in Creston, Nebraska. We held a luncheon there after the family memorial service at the family church last year.

I’d had no coffee nor anything substantial to eat yet, so I sat at the bar, ordered and enjoyed a burger, fries, and lots of coffee. There were few people there and I appreciated the solitude of the moment to reflect on my visit to the bridge. Now I wept. I wept for the finality of Pam’s passing. I wept for her not being with me to visit the people and places she cherished so. I wept that Alice didn’t remember that we’d even been there the previous year. It’s over. The deed is done. It’s time to go home.

Home Again, and Bad Weather

Yep. I was ready. I charted a backroad route only to find that it would take nearly seven hours to get home. That won’t do. It was only about five hours mostly on Interstate. An uneventful trip that had me home just around 5pm. No weather, no battles. Good to be home. Something to eat, and unload the car. Sorting and drying equipment would wait another day. This night I would try to come to grips with the emotional roller coaster of, well, the last few weeks, and the truncated camping weekend.

By now, I just had to know. Opening the weather app on my phone revealed the wisdom of my decision to pull up stakes that morning. Tornado warnings in eastern Nebraska on a direct path toward Louis and Clark State Park. As the evening unfolded, watches and warnings flooded the screen. Though there were no tornadoes reported in the area, it was clear that high winds, heavy rain, and hail marched through the campground slowly, taking a while to pass through where I would have been. Whew!

My brother-in-law sent me this picture taken near Freemont NE last Friday afternoon close to where I’d traveled. This is the same storm that proceeded NE toward L&CSP.

Less severe storms made it to my home in the overnight hours. I opened a window by the bed and listened to the thunder and rain, watched the lightening flash, and smelled the rain soaked air. Another reminder of things Pam and I enjoyed together.

It would take a couple more days for me to tether myself back in reality, grounded in what has become my daily routine of writing, walking, and playing my music. I have much to accomplish and personal and family events to look forward to. All a bit tainted by the vast emptiness that once was filled by Pam.

My notes for this post include the statement: “Passing of a significant day doesn’t make a significant difference.” Thinking about it now, I’m not so sure. A little more looking forward. A little less looking back. How weird are our lives?!

In case you missed them, back to part one or part two of this story.

Commemoration Camping – Part Two – Camping is a Battle Too

This is part two of a three-part article being published on successive days beginning Saturday, May 20, 2023

Louis and Clark State Park

Continuing with the theme of minimal planning, I did not research L&CSP to an extent beyond choosing a campsite on the outside of the loop, along the water. It was difficult to tell from a map and a couple photos what I was actually paying for. So I was surprised to find that the last section of the drive to, and the campground itself, were very flat! Not in the hills at all. I should have known. The park is situated next to a bend in the Missouri River that was separated, by design, many years ago from the current river course to shorten and straighten the river for commercial traffic.

Arriving about 4pm on Thursday, the sky was threatening and the wind whipped up from the open waterway. First things first. Setting up the tent presented challenges in the wind. I was proud of myself for single-handedly securing all the stakes and tiedowns, thinking that I would weather a storm.

Across the Campground
The Campsite
The Tent – Ready!

Not yet hungry, I played guitar for a while but thought I should prepare food, as it was beginning to sprinkle. Finally an opportunity to try the Mountain House Italian Pepper Steak I’d purchased last year (I see now that it is “currently unavailable”). Boil water, fill the bag, wait 10 minutes, eat with a spoon. Good backcountry victuals! I enjoyed it and hope I can find more for future travels.

The wind continued into the evening and through the night. I turned in before 10pm, just as the rain began in earnest. It rained for several hours. There’s no sound that compares with hard rain and wind on a tent fly. One always wonders if the stakes will hold and whether the water will stay outside the tent, both from above and below. Fortunately and happily, the tent held. Unfortunately, my sixty something bladder was closer to its limits. Very fortunately, there was a lull in the rain during which I was able to keep that liquid outside the tent as well. Ha!

One lays down, and rises, earlier when out in nature. The rain had ended by morning. All I could think about was the weather, and wanting to get to Pam’s bridge on the anniversary of her death. I had a bunch of daisies to toss into the water, to float away into the farm as did her ashes almost a year before (Memorial Day Weekend last year).

The weather forecast was a priority. Earlier in the week a 30% chance of rain and storms was predicted. By Thursday, it was 60%. As I checked the forecast this Friday morning, there was now a 95% chance of strong to severe storms developing by late afternoon and early evening. I knew that I didn’t want to be in a tent during, nor have my car subjected to, hail and even stronger winds than I had endured the night before. I made up my mind to strike camp as soon as I came back from the bridge, and figure out the rest of the weekend from there. I decided to skip making coffee and get on the road. I was not yet out of the park when I realized my stress level was elevated just pondering whether I had time to make it to Nebraska and back before severe weather erupted either at camp or along the way. Turn around. Pull stakes. Say goodbye to L&CSP.

I was thrilled to find that the only wet parts of the tent were the fly, the stakes, and the tiedown lines. Even the tent footprint was dry on both sides. I’d rarely seen that in the past after a rain. A little ray of sunshine in an otherwise gloomy (emotionally and atmospherically) day. Knowing that I would probably be headed home from NE, I didn’t worry much about the packing, just making sure I hadn’t left anything behind, that it all fit back in the car, and that it would not rattle around too much as I drove. I hate that!

And so I headed west toward Nebraska, drinking Frappuccino and munching oatmeal raisin cookies. It would be after my visit to the bridge before I ate a meal.

Stay tuned tomorrow for Commemorative Camping – Part Three- To the Bridge and Home Again.

In case you missed it, back to part one of this story.

Commemoration Camping – Part One – Getting There is Half the Battle

This is part one of a three-part article being published on successive days beginning Saturday, May 20, 2023

Thoughts of going camping over the weekend that included the one-year anniversary of Pam’s death came as a way of breaking up a long drive to Nebraska while checking off a visit to scenic Loess Hills in Western Iowa. I had camping equipment I’d yet to use and wanted to experience camping again nearly a year after visiting Mammoth Caves and Green River Lakes last summer.

The Plan

Of course I had a plan, but a loose one compared to my preparations for most travels. Yes, I did create a Google route to keep me off major highways and on course. And yes, I did duplicate a camping/backpacking spreadsheet – but only to ensure that I didn’t forget anything. So, okay, at least in my mind it was not minutely planned. I fully expected to take it as it came, adapting to circumstances.

I would leave on Thursday the 11th with Louis and Clark State Park as my final destination that day. I prepaid three nights of tent camping. I’d make the trip to Pam’s bridge at the farm on Friday, the actual anniversary, then back to the park as a base camp for yet unknown (and unplanned) adventures Saturday along the Loess Hills Scenic Byway. Home again on Sunday.

The planning that I did do, and the anticipation of the journey, were enough to keep my mind from much of the detail, over the last couple weeks, of what took place a year ago. I was aware, though, that my emotions were lurking in the background.

A Sketchy Start

A misguided Google Maps was my first clue that I would, in deed, have to take things as they came, when my location was consistently about 1/2 mile off the routed highway. The pleasant female British voice kept telling me to take the next right, at every gravel road that would lead me back to the road that I was actually on! I had to dig deep into my troubleshooting bag of tricks over multiple stops, to solve the issue. On my third stop and fixit attempt, I forced a stop of the application, then rebooted my phone. I’ve not had any issue with it since!

New Providence Hardware

This would be a great trip to take a detour to one of the interesting stops recommended by a daily email that suggests restaurants and attractions one might want to visit, Only In Iowa. New Providence Hardware was on my saved list of places so I added an out-of-the-way stop on my way to Loess Hills. After all, I had all day to get there and was up for an adventure. I figured I’d have lunch there and then continue my journey.

I timed my departure to arrive around 11:30. But that was delayed by my stops to fix my location issue. So I got there around noon. New Providence was all of two blocks long with the hardware store and a bank flanking the only north/south road through town.

I hadn’t reviewed the article about New Providence Hardware for some time so it came as a bit of a surprise when I found no restaurant either in nor near the store. No lunch! But it was fun just to be there, including taking a toilet break in the basement with dirt floor and a plethora of old grinding and lathing equipment, and metal shavings on the floor. At least the toilet was clean.

I got to talking with Heather who must have grown up in New Providence. She knew that there had not been a restaurant in town for at least 25 years and that the “soda shop” next door could be rented for events and hosted a free will lunch on Mondays. That’s it. I bought a Hank’s Gourmet Cream Soda just because.

Heather smiled widely when I asked to take her picture. I took special pleasure in capturing the mannequin as well. I see now that I missed part of the head. Oh well. Heather was delightful with her information about the town. I returned to the counter on my way out to tell her that I’d used worse toilets in my time.

On to Louis and Clark State Park (L&CSP). I finally grabbed an Italian Wrap sandwich at a Casey’s in Nevada IA, washing it down with the cream soda. The rest of the trip to L&CSP was uneventful but pleasant as I rode into the hills of Western Iowa.

Stay tuned tomorrow for Commemorative Camping – Part Two – Camping is a Battle Too

Not Living in the Past

It’s true. I thought it would happen beginning a couple weeks ago, but I really haven’t been reliving the detailed events of a year ago. Sure. I’ve thought about certain things, but in general, I’m not.

However, one year ago on Saturday, May 7th (it’s a Sunday this year) reality became an unwelcome visitor. We’d been managing Pam’s pain for a couple weeks already, taking turns with a 24/7 rotation of turning her and keeping her comfortable. Hospice caregivers came only once each weekday in the mornings.

During a position change that Saturday, Mary, Pam’s sister-in-law and retired nurse, thought a hip bone might be out of place. So we called Hospice and talked with the nurse on call, who happened to be the lead nurse for Pam’s care. She came to the house within about an hour to examine Pam. It was not a bone issue. It was loss of weight/tissue/muscle. Good news – we hadn’t hurt Pam. Bad news – Pam’s condition was deteriorating.

As she was leaving, I took the nurse aside to mention quietly what Kara, Kelley, Mary, and probably others were noticing. There had been a marked change in Pam. The nurse agreed and told me she was going to start scheduling the case nurse for every day.

I was devastated by this news. Two weeks earlier the Hospice social worker told us that if/when this nursing schedule change is made, it meant that most likely Pam would not live longer than a week. She died five days later.

Equipped with this reality Pam’s brothers rescheduled their return flights home and I cancelled arrangements I’d just completed the day before to have Pam transferred to a care facility. Thus began the final watch.

This was a dreadful experience for us all. And yet there was such, I will use the term, ‘grace’ as we huddled in our small living room, taking turns visiting with Pam privately, and in groups. Family. Love. Sorrow. Pain. I realize now that I was in shock, barely functioning. Fortunately, others took over meals and transport as Kara, Kelley, Mary, and I as much as I could manage, took care of Pam.

Looking back, and in talking with some family members, I realize that we could not have done it much better. Pam had us all around her at the end. We took care of her and each other. Through it all, our bonds of family and friendship were deeply strengthened. Pam’s last loving gift to all of us!

May 12th is the first anniversary of Pam’s death. I hope you won’t mind if I take a week off. I have special activities planned for this coming week that I hope to write about afterward. But I think I need to take this time to concentrate on my grief process and contemplate how much I still love Pam and miss her painfully. My view has not changed one iota. Pam was an amazing individual, full of love and compassion. I was fortunate to have known her, loved her, and been loved by her. I know that those who knew her, especially her children, siblings, and in-laws, all feel the same.

“A gentle woman with no guile. That’s why I love you, Pamela Sue.” (The Song I Never Wrote for You)

Today’s take-away message in Martha Hickman’s Healing After Loss is:

“The journeys into the past always include a way back into the present, which is where I live.”

A Play and a Poem

You know, I really do want and hope that you, the readers of this blog, gain something positive from the reading. I write about what’s happening with me, but my hope is that you can somehow internalize the words as reflecting your sorrows, griefs, loves, successes, hopes, and dreams. This week’s post is no different, unless you can relate to its being more positive, well, than at least the last one. Two experiences highlight my week, and both are positive.

The spoiler (the poem) is at the end. The second experience took place on Thursday. I was at a local music store picking up some equipment when Thaddeus mentioned that they were holding an open mic session in the recital room that evening. Thaddeus, who hosts, said he’s been struggling with turnout. “Please come play.” It would just be, hopefully, two or three musicians. I quickly realized it was time to put up or shut up. I agreed to come back that evening.

And so it appeared to be – at first. Then people kept arriving. A total of seven musicians performed, of which I was the third; five singer song writers and two pianists. There were also nearly a dozen others in the audience.

My heart began pounding as Thaddeus started things off. Probably the most polished of all of us, he played four original songs. In fact, all five guitarists played original music. By the time Joe finished his five originals, I knew I was next up. Though I felt that I at least belonged there, my stress level was high.

I played five songs beginning with Anything to Please (not yet recorded), Chameleon, Heart of Logic, Tell Elizabeth I Love Her, and The Song I Never Wrote For You. All were received well and applauded. And though I made several mistakes, some obvious, I was clearly in an empathetic crowd. After all was done, several people came up to me with appreciation for my playing and my songwriting skills.

I did it! I played in public in front of people I don’t know. It has begun. I am fulfilling a commitment I made to Pam (posthumously) and to myself, to step out into a new life that includes sharing myself, and in a way Pam, with – the world?

As you might imagine, I was pretty stoked when I got home. A nice Spring evening. I opened a can of beer and walked around the pond. It was then that my emotions caught up with me and, of course, I began to cry (as I am while writing this). Pam was not with me to share the dream. That coupled with the realization that I was actually going on with a new, still unfamiliar and uncomfortable life. And Pam would approve. Such a melancholy gift. Yet I have to move forward with my heart still in the past, hoping for a future that honors her life – and mine.

The Promised Poem – Promising Spring

Last Tuesday I began my day in contemplation, as usual, staring out the window at the birds flitting around the feeders, and suddenly this popped into my head. I had to write it down immediately in the journal I keep by my chair. I rather like it. I like its positivity. So here it is:

Flitting Birds
Branches Rustling
Sweetly Singing

Towering Trees
Skyward Reaching
Gently Swaying

Flowers Panning
Pedals Unfolding
To Heaven Praying

Greens and Blues
A Sunny Day
Gone the Gray

At Least Today

What Does It Matter?

Walking along the pathways this week on a fresh, sunny, late winter afternoon I was reminded again of our tiny place in the vast, potentially infinite universe. Blue sky, light breeze, warmth of the sun on my back. It must somehow matter.

Facebook provides so many information inputs. We don’t even have to ask for them. Some algorithms somewhere pay attention to the ads we click, the videos we watch, the people and sites we follow, and offer up text, pictures and video. Meta hopes we stay engaged so that their sponsors will continue to advertise with them.

One such information input for me is on the subject of the makeup of the universe. How far are other celestial bodies; a light minute, light hour, light day, light month, light year, or even thousands and thousands of light years away. Billions of galaxies, each with a trillion stars. As I have mentioned before, this makes me feel very small and insignificant. Our bodies exist for such a short time, measured only in minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. So what does it matter that we exist at all?

It matters because we are sentient beings. If we weren’t aware it wouldn’t matter. It matters because we are aware of ourselves and each other. We care about our own lives and the lives of others. Maybe even our awareness is of little consequence in the vast scheme of the universe. But then again, maybe not.

We know from science that our energy lives on either in free form or as other matter. We are transformed into life, and again when our lives end. We impact our environment which impacts the blue marble we live on. Surely we must have an impact on other regions of the universe in infinite time and space.

It matters because we care for ourselves, our families, our neighbors, communities, species, and the rest of the world around us. It doesn’t really matter how much we affect the universe. It matters that we matter to ourselves and each other.

Here’s why It matters to me; because Pam smiled with so much compassion and love.

Smiling and Holding Hands – 2019

It matters because I love her deeply, more than I understood until I was threatened with her absence. Then she was gone. Recently I realized that as much as I love her, she loved me more. That persistent thought both hurts and comforts me. It helps me understand my place in the universe. Her love was pure. And even at that, she loved her daughters even more!

Kara and Kelley, I hope you don’t mind that I make public this declaration of your Mother’s love for you. Making you. Making It matter that you are part of the universe.

As Pam would say, “Don’t forget.” You matter! We matter!