Musical Interlude

Here's one...



And here's another one...

Complaint Department

I keep thinking I’m going to get back to posting something here before too long, but I don’t seem to be getting around to it. I’ve been blaming it on it being tax season, which is at least partly true.

I’m hoping I’m nearing the end on doing taxes- which I pretty much have to be, since the deadline is a little over two weeks away. I only have Rachael’s left to do, but hers is the most confusing. Last year, she held four jobs in three different states.
---
 I was shocked to realize that Easter is only a little more than a week away. I was going to complain that it seems early this year, but I’m pretty sure that for the last couple of years, I’ve been complaining about every holiday being early. 

It’s pretty safe to say that I’ll be complaining about it anyway.
---
I’ve been fighting the onset of a cold for the last week... I think. So far, this has been more of an annoyance than anything else- vague stuffiness in the morning, along with sneezing and watery eyes by the afternoon. Everyday, as the day goes on, it feels like it’s just at the gate, ready to burst through, and I’m convinced that I’ll find myself bedridden by the following day. By the next morning, I’m pretty much back to where I was the day before.

I’ve been pumping myself with vitamins everyday to supplement my regular diet, which lately consists primarily of assorted nuts, some spicy party mix, and an occasional fistful of cheese popcorn. Yesterday, I figured I better add some protein, so I ate a half a bag of bacon jerky.

I credit this carefully balanced regimen with keeping my cold at bay.
--
My knee continues to be on the mend... I think. It’s nowhere near as bad as it was, but nowhere near as good as I would like it to be. Along with low level, or sometimes greater, muscle pain (or joint pain, if there's a difference), I discovered what seems to be a patch of what I assume is swelling around on knee- either that, or it's water building up- or the meniscus is falling out (if that’s even possible- which I doubt- but I like to go for the worst case).

Now that I realize it’s there, I find it particularly annoying. I’m usually off my feet for the most part during the week, but evenings and especially weekends, can be especially taxing. By Saturday and Sunday night, I feel like I’m walking around like Walter Brennan (you youngsters can look him up on YouTube).

Every time we have nice weather, which has been seldom lately, Sam mentions that he’s looking forward to us being able to go on walks again. I am too, so I hope it’s better whenever that day comes. I have a follow-up in three weeks, so we’ll see.
--
So, let’s see, I’ve complained about doing taxes, I’ve complained about the holidays, and I've complained about my health. I think that pretty much catches me up.

Hopefully, the good weather will be here soon. Then, maybe next time I can complain about having to chase little kids off of my lawn.

Morning Traveler

You know, it’s hard enough to drive to work on dark, winding country roads, disfigured by frost heaves and hidden gullies. But it’s even harder when you suddenly find yourself driving on large patches of ice, formed by the previous day’s melting snow.

That’s why I want to give a great big pat-on-the-back to the young woman in the Hyundai SUV who cut in front of me this morning. She not only managed to handle all of that while maintaining a steady speed of anywhere between 10 to15 miles an hour below the speed limit, to 15 to 20 miles an hour above the speed limit- she also managed to do it with the bright glow of her cell phone shining in her face the whole way.

Sure, she randomly jerked her car back from veering into the oncoming lane occasionally, and sure, she almost headed into the tree lined embankment, not once, but twice. But the point is, she managed to send her texts or update her Facebook page, or whatever she was doing- and no one was killed!

Great job, Fellow Commuter! I look forward to our paths crossing in the near future... as long as I’m not in the oncoming lane.

A Saturday Drive

It’s raining out today. It was raining out on Saturday, too, but it was a steadier and harder rain. On Saturday, Sam and I were driving down the highway to visit his Grandma. He had brought along one of his video players which quickly lost its charge. As he put it away in the glove compartment, I shut off the radio, and we quietly headed down the highway together.

Outside, the steady rain ate away at the decaying snow and breaths of grey fog struggled to rise before coming to rest over the low valleys and the river that ran beside us.

I listened to the tapping of the rain for several quiet miles, and it reminded me, like so many things, of so many years ago. I don’t know if Sam was listening to the rain or to his own thoughts or to both, but as we drove on, I broke the silence by telling Sam that at times, I find there’s something comforting and peaceful about the sound of the falling rain.

I told Sam that the sound of the rain reminded me of a time when I was about his age. I told him about how I had a van and how, on dull and grey rainy days, I would sometimes drive to a place where I could park and lay down in the back of the van and just listen to the quiet and the rain as it tapped on the walls of my cocoon, and how there was a special kind of comfort in those moments.

I told Sam about how, years before that, I had a spot where I would sometimes walk to, in slow but steady rains. It was at the far end of a field on the neighboring school grounds, where there was a large cement culvert which sat hidden by a ring of tall reeds and grass. Only the mouth of this man-made cave was exposed, and inches below it sat a small, puddle sized pond.

On rainy days, I would go down to this pond and climb just inside the mouth of the culvert. Almost able to stand, I would straddle the small stream of rainwater that flowed from out of the darkness, and passed under my legs, before emptying into the pond below. And I would listen as the water fell onto the pond and I would watch as the rain-born ringlets appeared on the pond and then faded over and over again.

And I told Sam how, when I couldn’t get down to the pond, I would lay on my bed and stare out the adjoining window and watch as the rain washed down my now deserted street. And how sometimes, I would open the window- just enough to hear the rain as it filtered through the trees and bushes in the front yard below. And how sometimes, I would open the window just a little bit further, and I would feel the rain as it filtered through the screen, brushing against my skin.

Sam, like always, smiled and listened, never saying very much.

As I finished reminiscing, we continued on our way, driving through the fog and listening to the quiet, and the rain as it tapped against our cocoon.

Photo Link

I came across this site when I was looking for old pictures of the mall we went to. Interesting pictures in a "last person on earth" kind of way.

A Day at the Mall

When the kids were small, we would head down to the mall- maybe once every couple of weeks or so. I didn’t really need anything and it was only on occasion that I bought anything- for myself anyway. It was kind of an adventure.

A typical visit would usually start off by going to K-Mart. The kids would peruse the toys, occasionally demonstrating for me all the different things it could do, which they had most likely learned from the Saturday morning cartoon commercials. Thankfully, we rarely bought anything there. If for some insane reason we did, we would be put through the K-Mart customer service treatment which usually translated into standing in a long line at the only open register while the disgruntled employee paced the current transaction to end at the beginning of her break.

After leaving Kmart, we would stop at the fountain and sit for a few minutes. Sometimes the kids would toss in a penny. Sometimes they would walk or run around the wooden bench seat that circled the fountain. If someone else, besides me, happened to be sitting somewhere on the bench, whomever was doing the walking or running would get within an inch or two of them, stop, stare at this person for a few seconds and then turn and race back to me. If the person was amused by this, this scenario would go on for a while. If the person was a grouch, they would eventually get up and leave, thus opening up the entire track. Either way, it was a win-win.

Once the novelty of the fountain wore off, we would head over to Kaybee Toys where we would examine the toys all over again. But because Kaybee was much better stocked than Kmart, it offered near infinite possibilities so the demonstrations and performances and dreams would be in greater and more varied detail.

Not our store, but close enough (found on buzzfeed)

Usually, if we bought anything from the mall, it would be from Kaybee Toys. Often, the kids would leave with one or two small items- something like a “My Little Pony” or a little action figure,or a “Hot Wheels”- and it would become their treasure for the ride home and the days ahead, and maybe, if it was really special, for the years to come.

After the toy store, we would enter the deafening, seizure inducing arcade. My kids were never too big on pinball or the pixelated video games that were just becoming popular. They seemed to go for the more physical stuff- things like skeeball and Whack-a-Mole and tossing bean bags into the wide mouth of an inflating lady, or shooting small basketballs into a small hoop or playing that thing that had lights that would race around a circle, and you would have to slap a big button to make the light stop in front of you in order to pay out tickets- basically a little kid’s roulette table. We spent quite a bit of time and quarters in that arcade. The kids would come away with a fist full of tickets or some trinkets that they “bought” by cashing in their winnings.

Having worked up an appetite from the arcade, and with their energy now waning, we would stop and get a bite to eat. Once in a rare while, it would be at the Friendly’s, but usually, it was a slice of pizza or some other fine cuisine offered by the ring of vendors that surrounded the plastic seating area.

On the way out, they might get a ride on one of those fiberglass animals or cars- the ones where you would pop in a quarter and the kids would get jostled around for a couple of minutes.

There used to be a ring of these rides down by the entry to the mall. They would often have a “bucking” horse or a bear along with a racing car that bounced more than it raced. In later years, they even had a helicopter that would go about five feet up in the air, then down again.

I used to see these rides around all over the place when the kids were small. Now, I don’t recall having seen them anywhere in years. They certainly aren’t at the mall anymore- they haven’t been there for years. There used to be some outside of Ames and Rich’s department stores, but those stores, like the rides, are gone. Maybe those rides are still out there somewhere and I just don’t have any reason to notice them.

Kmart is long gone from this mall- though it exists in all it’s former glory at other locations. Kaybee Toys died a slow, agonizing death before going bankrupt several years ago, and the arcade is long gone as well. Most of the former food vendors have left, replaced by- I’m not even sure what. Stores like Media Play, which the kids enjoyed when they were a little older, have long ago come and gone.

There are still stores down at the mall, but it seems to me not as many it as there were back then. Walking along the not-so-bustling halls, the strings of stores that are still open are frequently interrupted by stores that are now empty and gone- looking like books missing from a one packed bookshelf.

Gone also are the sounds echoing from the distant arcade, beckoning you with promises of joy and riches in the form of redeemable tokens and tickets.

I don’t get down to the mall very much anymore. When I go, it’s usually because I need something in a hurry. I don’t spend a lot of time there- no browsing or anything like that. I’ll pop into “Target” or “Best Buy” and make a beeline for what I’m after. I’ll make my purchase and head back to my car to go back home again.

I didn’t do a lot of shopping way back then, but it sure was a lot more fun. Here’s a site that has some grainy photos of the place. These shots were taken a little while ago- well past what I'm talking about here, but they're not particularly recent. I wouldn’t consider it a “dead” mall yet- dying maybe, but not quite dead.

Where Things Are At

Well, the knee seems to be heeling up nicely, at least as far as I can tell. I threw my back out when I was on the crutches, so I feel like I've traded one problem for another. But I don't think it's any big deal. Things seem to be on the mend.

I have to get back to working on taxes, like everybody else. I switched jobs a couple of years ago and so the equilibrium of my withholdings is still a work in progress. I used to get a decent tax return back. Last year, I owed a fair about, and this year, I'm hoping to at least break even. We'll see. Part of this is also due to the fact that I have fewer deductions- what with the three older kids no longer being dependents. Only Sam is at home.

Once I get done with my taxes, I need to get going on everyone else's. Between the three kids, it involves four different states. I'm dreading it, but I've put it off about as long as I can. The good news is I no longer have to deal with the FAFSA.

Speaking of Sam,we're beginning the guardianship process, seeing how he's no longer a minor- as of last Friday. I know less than nothing about it, but the little I'm finding out makes the IEP process look look like a joy in comparison. And speaking of the IEP process, that's coming up too.

Jake is supposed to be home for spring break next week. It's always nice to have any of the kids around- no matter how short the visit.

It seems spring is finally trying to make an entrance. Yesterday was in the forties- I think it was the warmest day so far this year. The ice dams on my roof haven't led to any water backing up into the house- at least as far as I know. But I do have a call into a contractor to look at a ceiling problem I've been having. That promises to be fun. And there's still plenty of snow on the ground, so springtime canoeing in my "damp" basement is still a distinct possibility.




That's about it for now. More updates to follow. Maybe.

Eighteen Years Ago

Today is Sam's birthday and just as I've done with his brother and his sisters, I wanted to say a little something- both about what Sam has taught me and about who he is.

I thought saying something about Sam would be pretty easy- not because I love him any more or less than the others, but because many of his experiences have been so profoundly different than theirs.

There is nobody that reads this blog that isn't aware of Sam's history, but in the off chance that some unfortunate soul stumbles across this page and has, for some inexplicable reason, read this far, you should know that Sam came within days of dying from a massive brain tumor when he was about three and a half years old. This event presented itself seemingly out of nowhere

So, when I've tried to write about Sam in the past, it's at this point that I begin to spiral into the events of that period- and of all the intervening years- and I get lost in a maze of emotion, and it leads me away from the direction I was trying to head.

What it all boils down to is that the things that Sam went through, showed me not only how temporary and fragile things are, but also how drastically and suddenly things in life can change.

I have always thought about the temporary nature of things. But up until Sam's troubles, I had always viewed things as either a part of an ongoing evolution and natural transition, or as something that was working towards a so-called natural conclusion- a conclusion that, while inevitable, would come gradually over time. Up until that point, I had never thought, not in any depth at least, about how abruptly things could change, or even worse, end - all in less than a blink of an eye.

And this is where the spiral begins, so let me shift slightly and say something more specifically about Sam and who he is to me.

There are people who believe that we are closest to God, or to being God-like at the moment that we're born. We'll never be as innocent and as pure of thought and emotion as we are at that point in time. As we live and gather knowledge and experience life, we gain not only all of the wonderful things that result from following our paths, but we inevitably lose some amount of innocence and purity through those experiences. As a result, we drift further and further away from being like God, as time passes by.

I don't know where I heard this. I don't know if it's from a particular religion, or if this is from some tribe somewhere. It could even have been from a dream.

I don't view myself as a religious person- I'm not even sure how I feel about the concept of "God". But if all of this were to be true, then Sam has been closer to God longer and more deeply than anyone I know.

There is a sweetness and innocence that runs deep within Sam. Maybe this is due to his early troubles - but it doesn't matter. Those troubles are a part of his path which, like all of us, make up who he is today. And while this innocence and purity has diminished, however slightly over time, (particularly with the onset of adolescence and the discovery "girls"), it is still a huge part him.

This innocence can feed into his already profound struggles in dealing with some of the harsh realities of the world- his mountains are often higher and his struggles are often far greater than he expects them to be. But it can also be a gift. It gives him a certain outlook and perspective that helps him cope in a positive way with the world around him.

Despite my best efforts, I often think about what my life would have been like if I had lost Sam those fifteen years ago- and I can't begin to imagine how much poorer my life would have been without him being around. Sam, like each of my kids, has been a gift.

A Little Update

Well, my knee surgery is over and done with- at least as far as I can tell. I have a follow-up on Tuesday, and if it’s anything different, I’ll let you know.

If it wasn’t for the surgery, it would have been a pretty nice weekend. Helaina was home a night early, coming home on Thursday night after having picked up Rachael at the bus station. Rachael was able to stay until Sunday morning, and Jake popped in and out throughout the weekend. Sam, of course, was always near by.

A few days before the operation, the doctor’s office called to tell me that they had moved the operation up on the schedule. To me, this was a good thing. I figured that the earlier it was in the morning, the more likely it was to be on time. Turns out I was wrong.

I was told to be at the hospital at nine in the morning for the surgery, which was scheduled to begin at 10:30. As near as I can remember, they were close to two hours late. It wasn’t so much the waiting itself that was bothering me- Rachael was doing a good job occupying my time. What was bothering me was that first of all, I had told Sam that I would be home by the time he got back from school. I was beginning to doubt that this was going to happen. And secondly, Jake was due to come home from Rhode Island and he had been having car problems, starting the night before. What if he ran into problems getting home?

There wasn’t a whole lot I could do about either of these things at this point. I did manage to have some last minute communication with Jake while I was in the pre-op area- and that would have to suffice. It was about 12:20 at this point, and they were getting ready to wheel me away.

I remember being wheedled down the hall to the operating room and that’s about the last thing I remember. Before the operation a nurse had told me that after wheeling me in there, I would have to climb onto the operating table and they would put an oxygen mask on me and at some point, slide a breathing tube down my throat. Somewhere in between all of this, they would knock me out. I don’t remember any of this. I’m glad I don’t, but a part of me finds it disturbing, just the same.

Judging from the texts and logs on my phone, it was about three hours later when I woke up in recovery, and it was about another hour and a half beyond that when I finally made it home- well past the time I had told Sam I would be back. At least Jake had made it back in the time that I was out of it.

Most of the day and most of the evening is still lost in a fog. I remember getting into the house, but did I manage to get anyone dinner? I had left popcorn and a bowl out the night before, in hopes that I could keep the Friday night tradition of Sam and I watching "Monk" together, and I was able to keep that promise- with Sam’s help. I remember that Rachael watched it along with Sam and I, but I don’t remember much about the show itself. I remember not being able to stay awake long enough to wait for Helaina to get home from work and feeling bad about it, but I don’t remember going upstairs to bed.

I guess none of the particulars really matter all that much. I may not remember anything about the operation itself and I may not remember many of the specifics of that evening, but I remember everyone being there to help and being there to be supportive- and that’s everything that matters.