Boulder to Birmingham

There wasn't any Memorial Day when I was young. I had Decoration Day, which is what we called Memorial Day, which made sense since that was the day we drove to Vernon Cemetery to decorate my maternal Grandmother's grave.

The fact that there was this whole three day orgy of fun to kick of the summer going on with everyone else was lost on me. I don't remember going to the lake. Or swimming pool. Having a cook-out, or party.

I remember loading up a floral arrangement into the back of our silver Grand Prix (which a kid at school told me meant penis in French) and driving all the way to Coweta, Oklahoma. That drive seemed so long. At the cemetery my Dad, with Mom at his side would pay their respects at his Mother's grave while I wandered around Vernon Cemetery reading grave markers. I've always loved dates, history, and I was especially interested in the grave markers of soldiers. There were a lot too. Many fresh. Vietnam. Oklahoma. The Dead Kennedys were spot on.

At that point in our story my Grandma had been dead for less than a decade. I never met her. She died the year before I was born. All I knew came from Dad's stories and our annual Decoration Day trip to Coweta.

When I was 7 or 8, Decoration Day stopped. I'm not sure why. All I know is that we started having Memorial Day, and like most Americans, it was a more about that three day orgy of fun to kick off summer instead of remembering the dead.

Grief is funny.

And apparently has no statute of limitations.

I'm fine. Or so I think. I can easily skirt something major like Mother's Day. In fact, I can make that cup half full and relish the fact that I don't have to sweat the gift worry stress funk since my Mom is dead. Something good from the bad. Which might sound sick, but fuck me, I feel entitled.

Then, something as innocent as my Lovely Bride unwittingly saying, "Joyce would have gotten the biggest kick out of Wyatt playing Guitar Hero." fells me. Bad.

As usual My Lovely Bride is right. Mom would have loved to have seen Wy rock out to Guitar Hero. I can see her laughing until she quite literally cried, from the joy of it all. She would have loved it...embraced it, dare I say, more than about anyone else. Which is what pisses me off. Wyatt doesn't get to appreciate it first hand. He's already intertwining Granny with Old Granny. Confusing the two because he was two when Mom died. Actually two and a half. Fuck me. Even the Elder Boy's special bond to his Granny grows more tenuous each and every day.

I was in Oklahoma on Father's Day. Visiting Old Granny first and then Pops. On Saturday morning, sitting in the courtyard of his new house I asked my Dad, why we stop going to Vernon Cemetery when I was a kid. How I remembered going every Memorial Day, or Decoration Day when I was little. Then we stopped?

Dad didn't say anything at first. Thinking I guess. It was a strange and random question, so I said, "When did we stop going?" Trying to place the date in my head so I could figure out how long my Grandma had been dead during the years we visited.

"I don't know." Dad said. "You were probably 8, I guess."

We sat in silence for a few minutes as I tried to do the math in my head.

"Why did we stop going?" I asked.

"Because, I don't know, it was expected? What you did." Dad said. "After awhile I realized that it doesn't really matter. You don't have to do it just because you are supposed to. All you do is make the florist rich."

"I understand that." I said. "Like Father's Day, or Mother's Day. It can turn into a Hallmark Holiday."'

"Yes." he replied.

"I was just wondering. Been thinking about it for a while." I said.

We sat in silence again, with me thinking about grief and if there was a statue of limitations, and if that had anything to do with Dad's changing Decoration Day into Memorial Day for our family.

I was about to ask when he said, "I've been wanting to tell you something."

Even though he was sitting in a chair, he leaned forward and put his arms and elbows on his legs, to close the distance between us, when he said, "I asked My Special Lady Friend to marry me."

He used her real name of course, but I don't yet feel comfortable using it here.

"Really." I said.

"Yes." he said, tears welling up in his eyes.

"How long ago did you ask her?" I asked.

"Two weeks."

"And you're just now telling me."

"Yes. I wanted to tell you when I could look you in the eyes." he said.

"I can appreciate that. Congratulations." I said.

"Thank you."

"I'm happy for you Dad." I said, "I am. Glad you found someone, and I still feel the same way I did when I was up her in March and had that big talk. I don't begrudge you any happiness. You were married to Mom for a long time. You took care of her, stood by her when she was so sick. Still. It's weird. You got to appreciate that."

"I do." he said. "Do me a favor and congratulate My Special Lady Friend later when you see her. We've been worried. About telling you."

"Ok." I said. "But why? I doesn't matter what I think?"

"It important to her, she wants you guys to be ok with this. Doesn't want to move to fast." he said. "It's important to me, too."

"I appreciate you wanting my approval Dad," I said, "but you, and your Special Lady Friend don't need it. You do what you guys need to do. I'm a grown man with my own family. I don't care about your money. or any of that. I just want you to be happy."

"I know." he said. "But I do care what you think."

I told the Boy(s) later that day that Pops was going to marry his Special Lady Friend. That afternoon, we all went swimming and the Special Lady Friend swam with Wy and Ethan. It actually reminded me a lot of my Mom, the playing with them, although Mom would have never swam in the pool.

The next morning, Father's Day, everyone got up before me. I was in the guest bedroom of Pops new house while the rest of the Team was in the courtyard. The Boy(s) were in the hot tub. I could hear them talking about stuff, Pops and his Special Lady Friend, the marriage, etc. when Ruby the dog came and nudged my arm so I would get up and take her out front to use the bathroom.

I snuck out front without anyone seeing me, or so I thought, until Ethan came out and said, "Dad."

"Yes Bub." I said.

"You're going to have a step mom."

I smiled. My deep thinker who was worried about me.

"Is that a question or a statement." I asked. "But yes. I'm going to have a step mom. When Pops marries his Special Lady Friend, she'll be my step mom."

"And you'll have a brother and sister." he said.

"Yes, I will." I said, "Pops Special Lady Friend has kids and when they get married that will make them my step brother and sister. Like Mommy has Uncle Marc and Uncle Beau Beau as step brothers. But they grew up with each other. This will be different because Daddy is older."

"Dad?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Will Pops and his Special Lady Friend have a baby."

Laughing, I said, "I don't think so, son. They are to old for that."

Grief is funny.

It doesn't make sense.

It makes you.

Until I BLOG again...I watched it burn.

Such Great Heights

This is my goofy ass attempt at an epilogue for the Barracuda and Swallowed in the Sea posts. It would help to read them first, if you are new, or want a refresher. Point that magic finger here (Barracuda: Part 1,) and there (Swallowed in the Sea: Part 2.)

I'm slow. Which is why it took two days of Ruby and me walking E to school before I realized what I immediately sensed was wrong that first day. Molly was gone.

On the third day I decided to ask Mr. Chambers, the crossing guard who works the intersection of our route if he knew anything about Molly. His corner is near her yard, and from his vantage point he can see and hear everything that Molly does.

"The city took her away because she bit some kid." Mr. Chambers said. "The kid stuck his fingers through the fence. He was giving her a treat. Molly's old and I don't think she can see all that good which is why she nipped him."

"And they took her away for that?" I asked. "That sounds more like an accident than a dog bite...and the kid stuck his hand into her yard!?!"

"Yes sir." Mr. Chambers said shaking his head. "They come and took her away for that. It's sad. She's not a mean dog. I've been working this corner for a long time and I've seen her with the kids. With people. She's not mean. She sounds mean when she gets after another dog walking by her yard. But she don't do that with people. Just dogs, like your dog."

"I know." I said shaking my head sadly thinking how criminal it was that a parent would allow Molly to be taken away for a nip on the finger when it was their dumbass kid who stuck their hand (with a treat) through the fence in the first place. And that the city has the power or authority to take a dog like that, for that.

Fuck me and our litigate crazy country.

"It's sad," Mr Chambers said again shaking his head. "She'll miss the kids."

"I know." I said. "Molly loves (loved?) the kids and school."

After saying our good-byes to Mr. Chambers we walked by Molly's yard. Even though Molly was long gone to dog jail or worse Ruby moved away from the fence to the far side of the sidewalk. She did it again the next day. And again the following day. Ruby seemed as oblivious to the fact that Molly was gone as she was when Molly was there.

The day before the last day of school, Mr. Chambers told us that he had heard from the neighbor that Molly's owner had taken her to live with his brother.

"I guess that's better than the city putting her down." I said.

"Yes sir." Mr. Chambers said. "But she really will miss all of these kids."

"I know we'll miss her Mr. Chambers." I said. "Well not all of us, Ruby doesn't even realize she's gone."

"I know," Mr. Chambers said, "Your dog still gets on over to the parkway to get away from Molly's fence."

"Force of habit." I said.

"Yes sir." Mr. Chambers said. "You all have a nice day."

The next day, our last day of kindergarten walk to school, something amazing happened. As we approached Mr. Chambers I noticed he was smiling. Although Mr. Chambers is a nice and friendly man I had never seen him smile over the course of the school year.

It didn't take long to realize why he was smiling though. I heard. Molly was back, barking her ass off at some dog who had the audacity to walk past her yard and fence.

"Molly's back." Mr. Chamber said.

"Molly's back." Ethan and I said in unison.

"That's awesome." I said. "Just in time for the last day of school."

"Yes sir." Mr. Chambers agreed.

"Mr. Chambers," I said. "You have a good summer, sir."

"You two do the same. I'll see you all in the fall."

Molly was at the opposite end of her yard, watching the kids in the school yard as we approached her strip of the sidewalk. Being away hadn't caused Molly to lose her form though, because she quickly spun around and charged toward us, actually Ruby, barking and growling and doing her usual thing.

Only on this day, for the first time, Ruby didn't move to the far side of the sidewalk.

Instead Ruby ran right up to the fence, and Molly, wagging her tail, and hopped around in that special Ruby way of saying she's really excited and happy about something.

This reunion dance of sorts, Molly barking and growling as Ruby hopped around wagging her tail went on for twenty to thirty seconds. Finally, Ruby stopped, as suddenly as she started, and it was business as usual. Ruby went to the far side of the sidewalk and ignored Molly the rest of the walk past her yard. Molly barked and growled all the way down the fence until we were beyond her yard at which point she stopped and resumed watching the kids in front of the school.

"It's cool that Molly made it back for the last day of school." I said to Ethan as we stood together at the drop off point. "This is it Boy. Your last day of kindergarten."

"Yeah." he said.

"Have a good day son. I love you. I'll see you tonight." I said.

I often walk home a different route after I drop off Ethan. This allows Ruby a bit more freedom to run amok because this way takes us through two of the school's playgrounds. Ethan practiced Soccer in one of them. The other is where the smaller kids, like Ethan have recess. It was at this playground that I snapped a picture of my Mom playing with Ethan in December 2003. The reason I can recall that is because of this --- that photo was the center piece of a photo collage that hung in a prominent place in Mom's house.

That photo became seared in my mind because of the dichotomy between that image of my Mom versus the Mom I saw the final months of her life. It hung on a wall that was outside the guest bedroom were I usually stayed when I visited. I walked by it countless times over those last months of Mom's life. Each and every damn time I would pause and think how did we get from what was then there, to what was then here, in two and half years. How could Mom go from that full of life and fun Granny chasing the Elder Boy to that poor black mouthed (from the morphine drops) wretch who was bedridden in the fucking living room.

That photo hurt me. That photo still hurts me which is problematic considering the playgrounds location.

It's weird. Ethan sat in a desk near a window that looks out at that playground. When we dropped him off that very first day of school and helped him get settled into his room and desk, I couldn't help but look out at the playground and think of that photo. I even took a photograph of the playground from E's desk because of my memory. I never posted it. Mainly because the deeper meaning would have been lost on anyone but me. This is the first time I've shared this story with anyone. Actually the complete story. If you read the description of the pic on Flickr you'll see a piece of it.

I was extremely uptight when I was younger. So uptight that I had an old almost flame who I reconnected with via email sum it up like this: "You were so intense in High School that it was a bit scary. You (I) can appreciate that trait now, but back then, I was intimidating." I'm paraphrasing of course, so if you read this old almost flame, and I dinked it up, comments are on and ready.

But the point is this...I was so uptight that when I turned 16 years old and got my driver's license my Mom got me a special gold key chain. One one side, she engraved my Name, the date (of my 16th Birthday) and phone number. On the other side it simply said this: Keep Smilin'.

The key chain was Mom's gentle reminder for me to remember to lighten up. To not take everything so seriously. Not to be so black and white. So absolute.

I carried that key chain like a talisman for years. I still have it. In fact, when I realized that Mom was dying I dug it out of an old tin can and put my keys on it. So I had it with me. That is where it stayed through those dark, dark months that led up to her death. I actually remember holding it tightly in my hand when my Mom told me she was terminal. I remember fiddling with it as I drove the longs drives from Dallas to Houston alone. After she died, I had it for the aftermath. I only took it off in November 2007 because I was planning to throw it into the sea when I did my goofy ass closure thing. But I couldn't do it.

The curious thing about all of that Dear Reader, is this. The school has a sign that is near the playground in the photograph. Ethan can see it from his desk. That sign has a changeable marquee type sign where the school lists children's birthdays. School activities. Events. That sort of thing.

As I walked toward that playground deep in bittersweet thought about E's last day of kindergarten. The Ralph issue. The ups and downs of his first year of public school and how sad I had been after those first few weeks of E's school year. Thinking about my Mom. I stopped, because Ruby was trying to eat an acorn. Standing there waiting for her I looked over at the marquee sign and the message that was on it which, I shit you not, was this: Keep Smilin'.


Last Day of Kindergarten

First Day of Kindergarten

Until I BLOG again...True, it may seem like a stretch, but
Its thoughts like this that catch my troubled head when you're away when I am missing you to death.