The walk continues - the snow, the night, the quiet

As I continued walking, I was shrouded in the silence. For the first time, I felt the cold, and was keenly aware of being alone. This park, during the summer, is bustling with any number of activities. Now, I was the only inhabitant. That thought created a feeling of vulnerability, and it was very strong... The snow continued unabated. I turned the collar up on coat, thrust my hands deeper into my pockets, and trudged on. I followed the bend in the road, down a hill.

I was hit with moonlight in the face. The trees had parted, and the moon struck me full on. A recent warm spell had thawed the river, and the water moved freely again. The eagles must like that, having more opportunities for fishing. The scene stopped me dead in my tracks. I watched the snow fall, it was really piling up. Before me was the softball diamond, scoreboard, bleachers... all of it. As if Charles Dickens had led me here with the ghost of Christmas Past, I watched a scene from a time gone by, as it played out before my eyes...

When was it, how long ago? It matters not. It will be an image playing in my mind as I draw my last breath, as the conscious will view my life as it passes before my eyes. Let me linger right here, and be in that moment again. I am walking on a certain section of bleachers, like a kind of target. I get to an assigned place, wheel and head back in the other direction. She stands some distance away, and tries to pelt me with snowballs. An idyllic setting, another winter night... warmer then, maybe not temperature wise, but her presence made it so. No, it was warmer, the big flakes coming down, easily packed into snowballs. The current snow, too cold to make snowballs...

I hear her laugh. I can always hear her laugh. My foot hit the edge of the bleacher that I was standing upon and I fell off, with much noise and the flailing of limbs... Aluminum bleachers can be a tad unforgiving, what I wouldn't give to feel those bruises again. She shrieked, a combination of fear and hysterical laughter - she was genuinely afraid for my well-being, but could not hide her mirth at the clumsiness of the fall. Of course I wasn't hurt, shattered limbs would not have allowed me to dampen that moment... When she knew that I was alright, the laughter would not stop for some time. It was a fortuitous fall, as she held me so tight, both as a gesture of comfort to me, and as an aid to herself to keep her from falling down amid the peals of laughter.

We stood in the moonlight and kissed, it may have been a brief kiss, I only remember the passion, and not wanting it to end. When frozen in time like that, a moment of bliss and beauty can break the elasticity of time and space. As my current self stood and watched, I felt those arms around me yet. "Ass over tea kettle, oh my god... that's where that expression came from! You... you," unremitting, convulsive laughter, "it was like slow motion - hands, legs, then you..." more giggles, tears now... "you tried to catch yourself... you sure... are you..." her face now buried into my chest..."are you ok?" I feel her trembling as my fall plays over and over in her mind. For this kind of reception, I may make clumsiness a part of my normal routine...

I placed my hands on her shoulders, peered into the loveliness that her eyes always made me feel, and said "I am so glad that I can entertain you." To be honest, one shin, a knee, and a couple ribs were still singing out in genuine pain, but it was so worth it. The quiet that engulfed us, the intimacy that we shared, the night, the snow, the quiet, the setting - thank you, ghost of Lovely Past... why I get to replay this now, who knows... her lips came to mine again. Don't, please... just stay, a little longer.

And I was here again, alone. I felt a stinging on my cheek, and knew right away that the tears were freezing on my cheeks. Another badge of honor, the pain was such a lovely hurt. I made my way down to the entrance to the ball diamond, slipping slightly, gaining a grip on the chain link fence to catch myself. Wiping out here and now would not be nearly as entertaining... A few steps more and I was there again, same spot, same bleacher, only time, eternity, circumstances and memories separated that moment from this. It felt good to be here again.

I sat down and watched the moon. The quiet yawned around me, threatening to swallow me whole. I wonder if she thinks of this at all. My heart smiled. The moon winked. The snow fell. I don't know how long I sat there.

We went walking

In order to create a more perfect frame of mind, I decided to go out walking. I have a love/hate relationship with winter. I am so in love with calm, quiet winter days and nights, when every sound announces itself and is crisply enunciated from every other sound and occurance. I hate the windy, downright dangerous cold that chases us from cars to indoors and causes so many people to head for warmer climates. I love to walk, and nothing does better for my state of mind than to walk, to listen, to watch, and to air out the gray matter.

Not far from where I spent my formative years there is a park. My hometown is smallish, probably 5-6,000 and will never be much bigger, as it is totally hemmed in by a river, a highway (with another municipality staking claim to everything south of that highway), and two other communities right up against the borders, east and west. It is a pretty nice town, the folks there a bit too provincial for my tastes... and it bears the name of a corporate giant who used to run the paper mill in town there. The mill shut down in 2008, and the town is still reeling from the after affects...

One of the great things that the corporate giant did was donate land for my park. It's mine, because it's there for me when I need it. It's on a point in the river, that lovely river that I have saluted in blogs past - one of the few in North America that actually flows north. The park has softball diamonds, as my hometown is drunk on sports... it has a small playground, shelters for social events, a boat landing and trails. It's major claim to fame is that it has hosted the World Fastpitch Softball Tournament every few years dating back to the 1970's.

But my joy comes from visiting there in solitude. There is an observation deck that overlooks the river. I have written tributes to that as well. Tonight I visit that deck, brush off the seats and just listen. Wind way up in the top of the trees but I feel it not a whisper. Sounds of distant traffic from the highway bypass a mile or two to the west. An owl or two or three trading gossip in the distance... and hush of crystal quiet that both calms the soul and echoes of dark sadness and loneliness. I hear a train whistle... it is a freight train, but it evokes that mournful cry, as so often in the past a trains often were about the business of bustling someone away to somewhere else, and someone else was pierced by the sound of their loved one leaving...

After moments of this rarefied air, I rise to move and breathe in different air. I cannot bear this lovely symphony of sadness too long, or be carried off with it. I walk up the steps and am quickly on the road. I love crunching the snow under foot, as the snow that is falling is cold, not very wet at all, the temperature in the teens... This is not conducive to big snowflakes falling, but the ones coming down are persistent, and lovely, and piling up.

More tomorrow... I need to linger on this

Feeling, much, much better... thank you

I have not blogged in what seems like eons... my time in the summer can be quite limited, and with being a third shift worker with limited internet access at work, it can be a challenge...

Lately, I have had some health issues, and I will fill you all in on it. Going back to June, our Wisconsin summer took a turn for the wet - lots of rain, record rain - the longest we have gone without rain is about 6 days, and when it rains, good golly Miss Molly, it will rain like there is no tomorrow. Yesterday we got a thunderstorm - two and a half inches in two hours, streets flooded, we lost power for a short time... and this has been a regular occurence.

And when it is not raining, our humidity is in the 70-75% range - which is not much by Southern standards, but rather moist and uncomfortable for Cheesehead standards. So the rain and humidity have pitched in to cause some rather high mold levels in the allergy index...

Another contributor might could be, not sure yet, but in June, my daughter's boyfriend gave her a kitten, and little Ruthie could be a factor of causing me further allergy issues. I was diagnosed with asthma about five years ago, and have had seasonal allergies for some time, so it could have impacted me when my immune system was being taxed by other things. Until June of this year, I did not even know where my inhalers were, my asthma was under control and not an issue at all.

So this nagging little dry hacking cough started, and pretty soon I recognized it as my old friend asthma. I found my inhalers and it kept it somewhat under control. As June stretched into July, and I was deeply immersed in my son's marching band season, my sleep time got severely compromised... to the point that if I got four hours of sleep a day, that was a lot... so as mentioned, my immune system was being overtaxed... At work, we started being mandated overtime, so I was putting in 9-10 hour days, six days a week, and I was starting to feel really run down... the cough didn't go away, and started worsening.

Marching band season ended mid-July, but by then, I had to start catching up on stuff that hadn't gotten done around the house and yard, and we had some nasty warm, humid spells mixed in with that... cough, cough, cough... by early August, the inhalers were not doing anything, and the sleep I was getting, was interrupted by the hacking cough. My ribs started to hurt, because I was coughing so much, and not really coughing anything up, no phlegm, just wheezing, and being short of breath.

Last week at work, I finally told my boss at the end of my shift Friday morning, that I had taken several unscheduled breaks in the office to just catch my breath, have some coughing jags and just try to rest, because I was exhausted. He told me to go home and get some rest, and I was more than happy to comply. I didn't sleep at all Friday night because of the coughing, and my son took me to the walk-in clinic at our doctor's office Saturday morning. As soon as he saw me, he heard the wheezing (before even taking a listen with a stethoscope) and said "sounds like pneumonia..." listened to my chest, and said "Wow." He ordered a chest x-ray and white count. White count was normal, and I had no temperature... but the x-ray showed my right lung had a white cast to half the area... he and I both concluded, pneumonia - I had pneumonia before, and this sure felt like it.

He gave me a couple different kind of meds - antibiotics for the infection in my lungs, cough suppressant with codeine to help me sleep, and told me to use my albutoral inhaler as much as I needed. The rest of Saturday wasn't too bad, as I was relieved to have taken some course of action to get me better. Sunday was not too good - I wasn't sleeping yet, the cough suppresant wasn't working too well, and each coughing jag was like someone having batting practice with my rib cage... Monday wasn't better, probably the worst day of all. I went to see the doctor again later that day, he gave me a nebulizer treatment, which helped. He gave me a prescription for prednisone, and told me that it was likely a severe asthma attack, and not pneumonia. He also gave me something for allergies, in case something was at play there as well.

So I had a pretty comprehensive battle plan in place - something for pneumonia, something for allergies, something for asthma... What happened next was pretty grim. Albutorol has a stimulant in it - and after the nebulizer treatment, I could feel the elevated heart rate. The prednisone also has a stimulant in it - it is a steroid and anti-inflammatory to fight the inflammation in my lungs. My heart rate soared, but nothing yet had kicked in to help my breathing, and so it felt like my breath stopped at neck level. I started having a panic attack, yelled at my kids, I couldn't sit down because I couldn't get comfortable, and couldn't stand because I was exhausted... my kids were pretty scared.

Back to the doctor, and he concluded that I needed to be hospitalized. I got there about 8:30 Monday night, and the resident who admitted me said my wheezing was out of control and quite "impressive." A quick nebulizer treatment helped a bit, but the heat rate was in the 130-140 range, almost double my resting pulse rate... they put me on oxygen, and gave me the prednisone in an IV... by morning I was so much better... it seemed to have finally gotten to the inflammation... and throughout the day on Tuesday I improved more.

They didn't want to let me go, because a normal person's oxygen saturation level is around 95%, and I couldn't get mine over 90. Finally a respiratory therapist showed me some breathing techniques, and by around 4 yesterday afternoon, I was cleared to go home. I had great care in the hospital, it was a brand new section of the hospital, great nurses, CNA's, doctors, staff - everyone... I got back home around 8:30 last night, and spent a restful seven hours in my own bed.

Not out of the woods yet, completely - meds for a spell yet, I have my very own nebulizer to help me if breathing gets compromised again, but all in all, I am much, much better. Thanks to everyone for your care and concern.

Though it wasn't pleasant, and I care not to experience it again, if this is the worst thing that happens to me, I am truly blessed. I have much for which to be thankful...

(hmmm... don't seem to have the ability to post pictures, what's the deal?)

a reason to pause

Amidst the blinding chaos that my life has been the last few weeks with the marching band about to leave on their 12 day trip out east (departed safely and on time yesterday) - increased work time, lack of sleep and whatever else went flashing by in my life that I could not attend to, I got an e-mail from my cousin about two weeks ago... We think of closure as something that closes a door, heals all, and swiftly takes us back to whatever "normal" is...

When you lose a child, that is nigh onto impossible, I cannot fathom the difficulty, the pain, the anguish. Some of you may recall, from 360 land, that my aforementioned cousin, my godmother, lost her son, a 36 year old pilot for the state DNR, in April 2009 in a plane crash whilst he was spotting a grass fire while on duty. To say the least, it was devastating. He left behind his wife and two little boys. The reason that his mom contacted me was that they wanted to include his bio in memorial to fallen firefighters which will be published later this year.

So amidst everything else, I agreed to do that. It was due today... so when the buses pulled out yesterday, I came home and set about the task of remembering Heath. I had written his obit, so I didn't want to do that again - I wanted to immortalize him. What you read is what came forth, I guess something that sits in my brain for ten days or so, can finally come forth when called upon. His mom and his wife loved it, and that is all that matters to me. Take a moment, hug and squeeze all those who are precious to you, and take a minute to remember those who make the ultimate sacrifice for us. Heath died while helping to safeguard our land. I still miss him, his wife, his little boys, his whole family, trudge on with huge holes in their hearts.

I just want to share a little sliver from an awesome life.

Heath

Department of Natural Resources – Wisconsin
Pilot
Date of Death: April 8, 2009
Age: 36

It’s been more than a year, but the pain of loss is just as fresh. The disbelief that someone who could live so fully and completely could be taken from us in the blink of an eye, is not one ounce less than the first moment we learned that he was gone. On April 8, 2009 a star truly fell from the sky, as Heath’s stay among us was cut far too short. That we are richer for having had him here for as long as we did there is no doubt, our memories are fond of the fullness of his life - his love for his family – his wife Jenny, son, Matt and Brett, his parents, brothers and extended family, and his genuine calm, smiling nature will stay with us and inspire us always…

Heath was a pilot, and he left us living the passion of flight. He was spotting a grass fire for the Wisconsin DNR, it could not be more appropriate that one of the true pleasures of his life was what ushered him from this life. The only passion that surpassed flying - was for Jenny and the boys. Had he his choice, of course he and Jenny would have taken great joy in spending many years together, watching their boys grow to honorable manhood.
There was a time in our country's history when people served their fellow man because they could do no other. Part of Heath's DNA was that if it involved flying, he believed that any risk was manageable, and that he could not imagine life that did not include flying. Working for the DNR allowed him to merge two of his great passions - his love of nature, and the feeling of peace and fulfillment that he felt when flying. A semi-famous letter from a soldier involved in the US Civil War to his wife, written in 1861 captures this sentiment "I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter..." And that captures Heath as well - if it involved flying, he knew he could handle many kinds of situations, and was therefore willing to accept some of the perils of that pursuit in exchange for the exhilaration that came with soaring above the earth...
His love for Jenny and the boys is deathless, and it bound him to earth as much as anything could… but there was that irresistible need to breathe in the sky, that washed over him like a strong wind, and though he used his skill and talents to serve others, there can be no doubt that his last thoughts were Jenny and the boys. Is it any wonder that when his family went back to fly over the site of his last flight, he found it necessary to show us that his spirit will always be carried upon the wind.

Greetings from...

The dark side, the graveyard shift... from the shrouds of night time... it is me, the erstwhile blogger, much more frequent commenter... I have to work out some kind of deal with whatever/whoever the being that apportions the hours of the day... somethin' just ain't right.

I started working third shift on Easter Sunday, April 4. Two and a half months later, and I have to say that I don't mind it, but I have not instilled the proper discipline of getting the sleep that I need. As I sit here writing this, my bones ache from fatigue... This being marching band season, I am trying to squeeze every last ounce of my free time into helping the band do what it needs to do... Two weeks from yesterday, they will leave for their 12 day trip to Boston, with stops in Ohio, New York state, ending with their normal season ending visit to Traverse City, MI for the National Cherry Festival, where they will march in two parades and perform in a field show. I should be able to catch up with them in TC to end the season with them, but the job thing has wiped out any opportunity for me to do the entire trip...

One of my "to do" lists is 12 items long, and that's just my Thursday list for the band. You don't want to see my yardwork list, and my housework list would be enough to chase anyone into therapy. Right now I am thriving on being busy... but when those coach buses pull out of the parking lot on June 30, and I am not happily ensconced in my front seat behind the driver... well, just be aware that I might be a tad crabby. It will be the first band trip that I will have missed since I started in 2005... Life goes on, but it makes me a tad sad, yanno?

Time to get back to work. I have choked down my second 20 oz diet Pepsi Cola, and so I need to have some resolve for the last two and a half hours of my shift. I am working 12 hours tonight, so the tiredity is bit more profound... this too shall pass... This morning when I crawled in bed, I giggled like I was having a lurid sexual affair, but it was only me, crawling betwixt the sheets, no one else was there. But getting into bed felt that good... I can't wait to do it again in a couple hours.

Just me, reporting that I am alive... Carry on.

off we go... My musical tribute to Lisa...

With anything that takes awhile to complete, there can be an aura of expectation, and with this project, there is no difference. I, in fact, tried to create some expectation. The project to which I am referring is a song dedication to my friend Lisa (shesjustagirl). When I contemplated it, it soon become apparent that just one song would not do... so before I go any further, let me cue up the intro... a wonderful song:

 

This will be a musical journey of sorts... not sure where it starts nor where it will end... but here it will go. I picture meeting in a park, on a beautiful summer day, and talking and laughing and exchanging tons of anecdotes, of finding out more about this remarkable woman who likes to think shesjustagirl... not, sorry Lis - lots more going on. I have to laugh though - the way you refer to men and women, even me, at my advanced age - as a boy... chuckles... Back to that walk in the park - it might not remain as just a walk in the park for long, I would try to find our way to a lake front, as inhaling a soft breeze off a body of water is intoxicating... As we walk, I would try to explain to you what went into my thought process for your song dedication... I knew that as soon as I started I would have to include this one... I love it, and it kind of reflects the walking that we are doing ourselves, and our mutual love of music... and the way that we both enjoy reflection, and well - give a listen...



If you don't smile during that song... ya have not got a pulse, lass... I tell ye. Breathing in the fresh air, having been refreshed by the dopamine of laughter, and having enjoyed some aural cuisine...and sometimes we walk in silence, and find ourselves just grinning at general giddiness... I know that you like current music, and I enjoy some of it too - I have a new appreciation for it because of some that you have shared. If you don't mind. I will share older stuff, stuff that I got accustomed to listening to... here is one - I shall embark on a dance related theme for a bit here, as I know that you enjoy that... I hope that you enjoy this one as well... note here, Lis - how he takes some liberty with language. You seem to enjoy that when I do it... May - I have this dance?



A nice little jazzy interlude, yes? When I was quite a bit younger - sometime in the dark, misty folds of time, back when all things were analog, before anyone knew what that was, and we had just emerged from the "everything in black and white" era... I enjoyed this group, they were pretty big for a time, back... well earlier in man's history, ok? I even went to one of their concerts - and I played one of their songs in my "music and more" of a couple of weeks ago. In keeping with our dance theme of present, I bow, kiss your hand, and ask for the favor of you presence with me on the dance floor, forthwith...



I have always loved that song... ok, I am old... sorry if that got some dust on you. There is something about music that has a joy to it, has that "joie de vivre" as the French say... I think I can conjure up one more for this portion of our musical meandering. And I shall conclude this portion of this musical memory tour with a large hit from a huge star of the 80's... he did some wonderful things with the Commodores, and then on his own. I give you, Mr. Lionel Ritchie... oh by the way, not sure if I am sticking with the dance theme here, but this could work for that...



We covered a lot here... a lot of styles, and a couple decades. But I think it was fun, and I'm not even tired... just so that this doesn't get to be several city blocks long, I will end this segment here, and let you listen, enjoy and reflect. And on another day, I shall continue, with more of my music, for you... Are you liking?

Song dedication - to my friend Lisa

A song dedication to my friend Lisa - who got a promotion to a new job this week. Though the job won't make her a billionaire - though who knows... as she is that good, and deserves it... she does like music. This is a fun song, and I thought that she might like it. This is my contribution to her celebration of her new job... Congrats Lis - you are the most bestest...