Grandma, may you finally have peace.

For all of you that do read this blog-thingy, I’m sorry for the absence of any entries for months. Working three jobs now to support the volunteer photography that I’m now doing. But more on that a little later.

On Saturday December 8^th at 4am my grandmother passed on. She was 86. She went peacefully in her sleep. No pain, no suffering. Truly a blessing. For the last three years she had been going downhill. From independent and walking on her own to bed-ridden. From alert and opinionated to confused, lost and sometimes scared. She had a long life, was married to my grandfather for 61 years, cared for both myself and my brother.

It really hit me Saturday night. For those of you who don’t know, since I moved back I’ve been living in their house. It was actually grandma’s idea. They had both moved out, each one to their respective assisted living facilities. Grandma wanted me to look after the house so I moved in. the house still to this day is filled with all their things and the memories I have from growing up there. And that’s why it hit me hard. All those reminders, all those rooms filled with images of the two of them. My memories play like a silent super 8 film, filling each space with their movements. No sounds, only the faded sights of all our times together in this house.

And that’s how it hit me. I was walking down the hallway into the living room. Then I saw her standing in front of her shelves of trinkets holding them and talking to me as a young boy how each one came from one of their many trips. It was so brief, but I felt it over my whole body. I started crying. So much that I dropped to my knees and laid my head on the carpet sobbing.

That was all I needed, I think. To get it out in one intense moment of saddness. And now I’m okay. I have no regrets, no lost chances. I am happy for her. She’s no longer in pain. May she rest in peace and be eternally happy. Thank you for all that you taught me and for all that you gave me. I love you grandma.

Fixin' the Dream

I decided to get my dad's Honda Rebel motorcycle fixed for his birthday. Normally, a project like that calls for a typical father-son(s) weekend. But with things being so busy lately, I decided to let the man they call "Cycle Pete" do the voodoo that he does so well.

Cycle Pete is a man, nay, a myth throughout the country roads of our little town. Recommended to me by the owner of the local hardware store, his name is kinda whispered to you and then echoes in the air around you, lingering like...like...a complex metaphor.

He lives in a land populated by trees. I know, I know, it's hard to believe, but this man comes from a place where green is all around him, where "neighbors" are down around the bend and all you hear for miles is the sound of the leaves playing innocently with the wind.

I have to admit---it was pretty f*ing awesome!!

Cycle Pete is one of those people who looks like his job. Weathered skin from years of riding, American flag bandanna, chin strap beard, shirt tucked into blue jeans with work boots and a big brass belt buckle. The man had motorcycle written all over his hands, in the grease under his nails and the calluses on his fingers.

I'll say again---it was f*ing awesome.

Knowing that the Rebel would be back to its bad-ass self very soon, it was decided that, when we got home, it was time to Re-Live the Dream.

The Dream is representative of all that is simple and beautiful in this world. It's a classic bit of machine, stylish and subtle. It was my grandfather's bike and it's the only object my dad has left to remind him of his father.








I'll have to admit, I was speechless. That bike is all I'll ever know of a man I never really met. A man who helped shape the person my father is today. A man who has shaped me in turn. With all that it represents, the Dream left me feeling a little in awe. I felt like a kid again, standing before a mythical Grandfather, listening to his heroic stories from the lands of lore.

It was powerful.

Even more so when I saw the look on dad's face. He just stared, a slight upward curve at the mouth, a wetness to his eyes. He stared smiling, as if he was saying, "Hey dad. I brought the boys up to see you. Thought we'd spend the afternoon with ya'."
I still tear up a little when I think about it.

So much history that I never knew, but is coming back in threads my dad spins out. That bike brings it all back for him, helps him remember and share. That bike has always been in the family from the day it was made. It's an honor to work on it.

So my new goal is to rebuild the Dream so dad can ride with his dad once again. And hopefully, when the Rebel is fixed, so can I. The Rebel and the Dream flying free.




Pretty f*ing cool.

Legacy on Birthday Eve...

All this getting older stuff has me thinking about what's left over. Not the cake or hangover, but the lasting quality of one's life. How do you define what is most important at the end? Is what's left really in your control?

Part of this has been going through my mind ever since Grandpa went into the ER this last time. He had fallen and cracked his head pretty good. Had to get 10 staples across an 8 inch gash. I swear that man has liquid steel running through his veins. Tough as nails.

So here he was dementia and all, running through the gambit of emotions. Scared, laughing, sleepy, angry, you name it. All while some "kid" stood next to him trying his best to make him feel at ease in that crazy place.

I've said it before, it makes no difference to me any more whether or not he knows who I am. As long as he feels safe with me. That is the most important thing---what he needs. Not what I want.

A brilliant woman named Candace once said, "You have to take your sail out of their wind." She was as captivating as she was poetic. And it's a great point. It's become a sort of mantra for me when dealing with individuals that have dementia. But it's also become very important when dealing with the general population.

You see, we all want to change things. We see a problem and think about how different it should be. Deep down we're all revolutionaries fighting for a better life, a better world, a better existence.

So how do we do that? Do we get in the face of people and force them to see our way? Or do we lead by example and hope to inspire others to effect their own change? Both sides have merit, depending on the cause. I guess deep down I've always been an inspiration-type, though. To lead by example. To follow my own heart and maybe affect that way.

And that is at the heart of your Legacy. How you'll be remembered has nothing to do with what your resume says. It's got nothing to do with your salary, mortgage payments, job titles, education, or bank account. It's got to do with how you've treated people along your path as you follow your passions until the very end. It's about community and being that kind of person who can see an other's point of view, for all it's merits and faults.

But it's also about being strong enough in who you are as an individual to be an example for those around you. It's not about force. Be like the bamboo, gently bending in the breeze but firmly grounded. The examples are there for you---Mother Teresa, Dr. King, Gandhi---they all understood that, while force gets you noticed and helps immediately, it's inspiration that lasts to move the future.

Maybe I'm just getting older. Maybe it's looking at grandpa and realizing that his Legacy is his smile and lightheartedness. (And his flirtatiousness :) He will be remembered for the good he has inspired in so many by simply being who he is and loving life the way he did. At this stage with grandpa's dementia, he has been distilled down to his purest form of being. He will leave this world with a crowd of hundreds who have been touched by his general respect for people. And that is what it's all about---giving respect without hope of reward. That's how you earn it.

So taking my sail as the wind comes, I hope to be as good a person to each of you as I am to myself. And maybe, in the long run, I can inspire you to do the same.

Stay Orange.

dirty

birthday, birthday

Virgos unite! Soon we shall band together and overtake the zodiacs with our...cleanliness...and...pursuit of perfection. (seriously, what the hell is up with that?) BEWARE THE WRATH!!





Last weekend, we celebrated my brother's birthday and this weekend it's my dad's. Then next weekend it' s yours truly, dirty. Birthday, Birthday. Please send all free money and sex to the address at the bottom of your screen. Oh, and Russian tortoises. Please. Seriously.

A side note---thanks to Penny Arcade, I now know about Pandora. Where has she been all my life? Check it for your own sake. I'm probably the only one who didn't know about this, but I still want to pass on the beautiful fullness of her bounty. Enjoi.

Prelude

welcome peoples, families, friends. i set this blog-thingy up to give you a behind the scenes into ideas, actions, and passions that move ak-me and the state of orange. enjoi.