RS On The Road

It's a Russell Stover's 18 wheeler that just appeared on the highway on the way down to celebrate the life of another person lost to cancer. My life-long friend's dad, who was diagnosed with his cancer about four months or so after my dad. He put up a fight that I will always admire, because it was a long fight, and an arduous fight. That damn cancer was always right up on him, and he never, ever threw in the towel. On my way down to be with my friend, I couldn't help but think of Mr. H. That of course led to thoughts of my dad and their respective last days. And then there, out of the blue, the truck. Mr. H was so gracious after my dad left, totally classy. In my mind, I see them having had a meaningful handshake and a very quiet sit together.

Little Red Chevette

I never in a million years thought I'd come upon this picture.  And of course it's partially blocked.....but this is a red chevette just like my dads, from way back in the day.  I have three specific memories in this car:  it breaking down, my dad using a curse word (it was "damn" and it was one of the 3 times I can remember him cursing ever in my life), and my dad taking us to "tha dump, tha dump, tha dump dump dump."

I wish I had asked him how many miles were on that car when he finally got a new one, but I have no idea.  The questions you never think to ask....that later you can never get answered.

Birmingham

Back in the '50s my dad went to school in Birmingham, AL. I have never been a big fan of the state, but the last time I was there, I rolled through on the train on the way to New Orleans, over 5 years ago. When I got there, I gave him a call, and we chatted for a bit, and joked about the place. I distinctly remember pacing the platform while we chatted. Now this time, headed to the same place, there was no conversation to be had. Instead I walked and tried my hardest to not think about him. I snapped this picture and hoped to just move along in my head. I did pretty good until we met a young woman on the train that played a whole game with her dad when she rolled into Birmingham. I felt huge pangs of jealousy, and sadness, because it was the same sort of game and exchange me and my dad would have had, if only.

March Madness

Last year I avoided participating in the whole March Madness scene.  Each year, he and I would always align ourselves, and compete at the same time.  He was such a gracious competitor.  He would put some of my picks down, with a gentle yet dismissive, "I wouldn't go that way" or "That's a real long shot."  He was my picking partner.  And he was right there watching with me, even if we weren't in the same place.  This year, I got back in the game and almost immediately regretted it.   AU trying to beat Villanova had me picking up the phone to call him. MD puttin up a fight.  Duke going down, hard.  Michigan State.  Despite having a jacked up bracket, deep down, I know he wouldn't object to my picks, both final four and the overall winner.  Because much like everything else he repeated himself on this topic every year "the trick is to pick a winner that is possible, but not the obvious pick."  So I think he'd be okay with my Pitt pick, even though it didn't pan out.  I loved telling him about my many pools that I'd be in, and how great my picks were doing.  Now, it's not so much fun.....now it feels more like obligation and work.  But I did it, and thought of him all the way.

3/17

My dad's Irish bar was one of my favorite places to be when I was growing up.  Each year, it was understood he would not be seen before bed, because he would be at the bar all night with the St. Patrick's Day crowd.  I remember each morning of the 18th, it would be an anxious awaiting to hear just how crowded it was at the bar last night.  Funny, looking back on it, the answer was always the same, but I always was waiting to hear with such anticipation.  "It was packed solid from 4:00 until we closed" or "gadzooks, it was packed" or "it was just a constant packed crowd all night" or "oh yeah, it was the biggest one I remember."  No green beer served.....he would tell you "the Irish don't drink green beer, they just drink beer."  When he opened a new bar, closer to where we lived, we would sneak up there and peak in the window to see how crowded the bar was, and it always was.....it made me feel so proud....that's my dad's bar.  When I got older, I even got to be bartender during the lunch shift one St. Patrick's Day.  It was a life highlight.   This is a picture of my shamrock, which I love.  It always reminds me of him, his Irish, my Irish.

A Jump is Needed

My daddy saved me numerous times with my various car events.  He was my go-to guy when I stalled out, had a flat tire, a dead battery, or a service question.  Most of these times, I was overly-emotional, frustrated, and at these times he was his natural, calming self.  He always always fixed it for me.  It was after a dead battery experience that he became surprised to know that I did not have jumper cables.  When he gave them to me, I remember feeling so cared for, because it wasn't a special occasion gift, it was a "You really need to have these in your car" gift. Clearly, I could have bought them for myself, but instead he just took care of business.  They have sat in my trunk for years without being opened, until yesterday.  A friend needed a jump. Opening my trunk and seeing them there was so......comforting and sad at the same time. All I could of in my head was "thank you Daddy."    

Daylight Savings Time

While driving across town today, my clock read 2:05, and I thought that seemed off, and earlier than I had thought.  Well, of course, I had forgotten to change my car clock ahead one hour for daylight savings time.  I fixed my clock, and then could hear my dad telling me, "if you had set your alarm for 2:00 am and moved all your clocks ahead an hour you wouldn't have had this problem."  My dad loved to remind people that the time change takes place at 2:00 am, so he would joke that you had to get up to fix the time right at the switch.  He would tell this to strangers, while in line at the bank, or store.  Strangers would not know what to do with this crazy person telling them to get up at 2:00 am, instead of the obvious change of clocks before bed.  As years went on, he would leave me a message each time, and he would leave it in a very serious voice...."Yeah, hi honey, this is dad.  I know you are busy but I needed to leave you a message to remind you to set your alarm for 2:00 am, so that you can get those clocks changed to the right time."  I would always call him back to tell him how crazy he was.  For all the laughs, he really was a great reminder......now I face a far less hilarious reminder to change the clocks.  

V-Day

I have never been a fan of the Valentine's holiday.  But the one thing I always wanted and anticipated about this day was the card that would arrive from my dad.  When I was younger, it would be waiting for me on the kitchen table, as an adult he would mail them to me and the card and written note would always make me smile.  It would always be a mix of something funny and something sincere.  It would quite literally, make my day.  Since he left, I have dreaded the day, and the absence of him.  Last year was particularly painful, so this year I made my escape.  These flowers arrived for me, finding me all the way in North Carolina, and helped to brighten a dark day.  

Clemmie Salad

We had a potluck at work yesterday.  I made what they always want me to make, so no big deal. But I was very surprised to see Waldorf Salad on the table, brought in my boss.  I was so surprised that I stopped listening to the story being told to me, unrelated.  I just sort of stared at this bowl of salad, then ran and grabbed my camera.  My dad would make this salad every year of my recollected life for Thanksgiving.  We called it "Clemmie Salad" which is what HIS mom began calling it because of how much it was liked by him back in the day.  It was this salad that I didn't even like that much, but always ate because it was Clemmie Salad.  I mean, how can you take a pass on that?  It's a tradition that I think is over, which is so hard to type.  As we got older, he always wanted help making it, and especially seeding the grapes.  When he found purple seedless grapes, it made him so pleased to be saved such a high maintenance step.  But it was his to make, and I can't imagine letting anyone else make it without him here.  

This version today, wasn't EXACTLY the same as my Granny and my dad, which made me feel a bit better about eating it at lunch.  I carry him always but he pops up in the most surprising places.....

Another depature

Today I found out that Jeffrey left us on Wednesday.  I have spent all afternoon consumed with thoughts of him, and my regrets.  His passing leaves me thinking of my dad, as well.  First, that is just how death works now.  Someone dies, I feel the searing pain of the loss of him.  Second, he knew Jeffrey, and would be deeply hurting over this loss.  If he were here, we would be on the phone discussing this tragedy, and he would be marveling over Jeffrey's mom, and what she has been asked to live through.  But he's not here, and instead all I can think is that my dad grudgingly welcomed Jeff last week.  I hope my dad knows how lucky he is to have his company....he has got a contagious laugh, is wise beyond his years, a Dean in '04 fan, funny, forgiving, anti-war, inspiring, well-read, and always a Redskins fan.