Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Earl – The Guy Who Used to be My Father-In-Law…

10/07/2008

Not to long ago I wrote about how as one ages one experiences the passing of family and friends more often than one would like.  And so it is time again for me to walk this road.

Earl passed away last Friday after a long illness, he was eighty-six.  Though we have not been close for over fifteen years, I still very much considered Earl my friend and I loved him.  I have known him since 1958.

As much as this is an oxymoron, Earl was a simple, complex man.  Simple in that he was easy to love, and very complex in that it wasn’t always so simple.  He liked to play the tough guy, though deep down those who really knew him, knew him to be a pussycat.  He was tender and thoughtful and loving and affectionate, and he would give you the shirt off his back.  God knows Earl never met a stranger; he could strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere at any time.  He spent many years working as a machinist for the Western Electric Company in Baltimore until he retired about twenty-five years ago.  He toiled at a metal press, which if you have ever seen one you know what a dirty job it can be.  Earl dressed for work in casual clothing, changed into work clothes when he got to his jobsite, and showered and changed back before he went home.  This was the meticulous side of the complex man.

I so remember him on mornings with heavy dew going out to wipe it off his beloved cars.  His cars were always kept spotlessly clean, inside and out.  He was just as picky about his appearance.  He dressed to go out to dinner.  It was not uncommon to see Earl in a restaurant in coat and tie when everyone else was dressed in jeans or khaki.  He wore a coat and tie when he flew.  And he loved to get out his white shoes and white belt with his pastel-colored jackets in the summer months.  I think he invented the phrase “dressed to the nines.”

You just didn’t see Earl in dirty or ragged clothing, even when he went fishing.  To see him fish was to see a man in ecstasy.  It was poetry in motion; it was a dance; it was an opera and he was the tenor.  Everything had to be perfect when he fished, and I mean perfect.  Every knot had to be tied just so.  Bait on a hook, just so.  Casting was an art for him and I loved the sparkle in his eye as he so smoothly drew back his rod and placed the baited hook exactly where he wanted it to go.  Job did not have the patience of Earl, and you would have realized this on a fishing outing with him.  It did not matter to him if he didn’t catch a thing, it was the mere fact he was where he wanted to be, doing something he loved – the outside world did not exist when Earl was fishing.

He was a loving man.  His love of family could not be concealed.  I can hear him calling for his wife with a simple “Hey?” For a while we all thought it was her name.  He loved his Leila, and they grew much closer and more in love after their retirement.  And oh how the man loved his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  He was about as tender a man as I have ever met.  Earl lost his only grandson about a little over a year ago and was nearly inconsolable.  He cared so much for that young man. 

Earl won’t be remembered by vast number of people.  He didn’t save the world and he won’t be remembered for anything he published or a speech he gave or some act of heroism.  To those who knew him, though, he will always be held in very high esteem.  He was simply our “Pop-pop.”

And that is all I have to say about that…

Friday, October 03, 2008

Happy Birthday, Mom...

10/03/2008

Did I ever write anything about my mom?  I am sure I did but am too lazy to go back and look.  Today would have been her 102nd birthday.  In the photograph below, taken about 1920 when she was just fourteen, she is standing at the far right as you look at the picture.

My mom was a special woman.  She was just about the most devout Christian I have ever met.  Her life was all about the Church, the Bible, and her precious Jesus.

She suffered with dementia the last fifteen or so years of her life.  The last years were a horrible nightmare for her.  She lived in a state of confusion and was easily addled.

My last mental picture of her was her sitting on the sofa in her condo’s living room with her face buried in her hands repeating over and over, “What are we going to do?  What are we going to do?”

That woman was not the vibrant, funny, beautiful woman who raised five kids.  She wrote poetry, acted in church plays, had a smile on her face most of the time, and wasn’t afraid of anyone.  She loved to watch soap operas on TV, and I can visualize her now sitting down to watch one with half a cheddar cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee for her lunch.  Her favorite meal out was a Filet-o-Fish sandwich at McDonald’s, and a cup on coffee.  I don’t think I ever saw her drink a Coke.

There was never a doubt she loved my dad.  They lived for one another, and while I don’t recall her calling me by name for many years before she passed away, she always knew who Russell was. 

I went to church with them once, probably a couple of years before they both passed away in 1997, and was struck by how they held hands throughout the service, both in their 90s and married nearly 68 years.  Their love for one another and their children was unconditional, and everyone knew it.

In death they lay together side by side.  I bet they still hold hands.

Happy Birthday, Mother.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Vivienne and Me...

09/30/2008

Okay!  For those of you without grandchildren, go buy a couple.  You won’t regret it.

The Nancy and I ventured down to the Richmond, Virginia area this past weekend to spend a little time with my girls and the grandchildren.  It is always a pleasure and pretty damn gratifying.

Saturday morning, having had a Friday dinner with two of our three daughters and two of our six grandkids, I got to go to breakfast with Vivienne.  Vivienne is five.

If you have ever seen the Volvo commercial on TV that features the little girl and her dad where the little girl in seated in the car and talking and talking and talking, then you have a sense of Vivienne.  Vivienne can talk…a lot!

On this day I picked her up at about 8:30.  We had decided the night before we were going to Panera Bread Company for breakfast, just she and I.  It is something I began to do with grandchildren a few years ago, me and my main man Justin actually began it, and I have to tell you, it is one of the most satisfying things I get to do.  Vivienne did not disappoint.  She had me chuckling most of the morning.

The morning began with Vivienne and me deciding we were going for orange scones and chocolate milk.  Orange scones are her favorite.  Henry, her brother, she told me, doesn’t like orange scones.  She told me if you give him one he makes a funny face and turns his head (I later learned he will eat the frosting).  As we were driving to Panera she also told me about a dream she had had that night about dinosaurs.  I asked her if she ever saw a dinosaur.  “Grandpa!” I could almost envision her hands resting on her hips in exasperation.  “Dinosaurs are instinct!” And it went on from there, one chuckler after another, non-stop.  When I asked her if she thought we should take something back to her house for Henry she told me he likes “big muffins.” So she picked out two.

On the way back to her house she picked up and began to play with a stuff animal gorilla I keep on the back seat of my car.  All the grandchildren know “Bob,” he has been in the car for over five years.  Vivienne asked me if Bob could have a sleepover at her house, and she would send one of her own home with us.  She sent “George” the eagle with us, but cautioned The Nancy about allowing him to be around food (whatever that means?), and then she promised to take very good care of Bob.  We will keep George away from all food, and return him on our next visit with Vivienne, hopefully as thin as he was when she gave him to our care.

Vivienne is a truly exceptional child, though I may be a bit prejudiced.  She is a lover of life and I hope she never loses that love.  She brings a smile to my face every time she opens her mouth.  “Guess what?” begins almost everything sentence she utters and I cannot help but smile when I hear it.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Monday, September 22, 2008

Health Update

09/22/2008

I did the cardiologist thing last Thursday.  My regular doctor thought the pain I was having in my back on the upper-left side was due to my heart.  He was wrong.  I still don’t have a clue as to what the pain was, since I have only had it a couple of times since my initial visit with Doctor Paul, but the cardio dude says my heart is healthy and I may live on for a few more years.  He told me I may out live my dad who died at age ninety-three, and that will be pretty cool, if the rest of me holds up.

The cardiologist gave my bruised ego a lift when he told me I performed in the stress test at a level equal to a 22-year old.  It is a shame that not all of me does. 

I suppose the good news is I don’t have to worry about a heart condition right now.  The bad news is I have an occasional discomfort in my back, and would love to know what the hell is happening there.

In between the last paragraph and this one I have called Dr. Paul’s office and made an appointment for a complete physical.  I can almost see the smile on his face when he knows he will have me hold my ankles as he embarrasses the hell out of me with his finger where the sun don’t shine.  But, I am a real man and can deal with it.

And that is all I have to say about that…