Enduro - Endured

No injuries. All smiles.

Group Shot. We're tired puppies.

Scenic View of the Trail Ahead of Us.

A River Crossing.

Loose Rocks on a Long Hill.

Mogollon Rim Rendezvous - Bubble Gum Day

Today is done and no injuries. Pictures here.


I did have some trouble though. I misread my GPS and went off-course. The terrain was tight pine forest and I was too far committed when I realized my mistake. Instead of backtracking, I tried to cut my own trail up a hill in the forest in order to save time. Bad decision! Trees down everywhere! I jumped two trees just fine, but the third got me, and the bike went down. Turns out in Arizona, the pine trees have many branches that each break off and make sharp edges. :( Why can't they make trees like they do in Indiana? So I pick up the bike, and gas is pouring out of the side of the tank and onto my leg. Punctured.

So I McGuyver'd it. Here's my bubble gum "fix". Quotation marks means the stream of gas went from looking like a horse peeing to a slow trickle. I went 92.3 miles more and finished the day! Sorry, Allyn, about your bike. I'll get you a new tank. What a good lesson learned though! What fun!

Walking In Autumn

Walking with Niki and Kai in the Park lately....


All I could say when I saw this was "Can you please stop pimping out our dog?"

Customer Service as a Nice Surprise

Sometimes companies can surprise you. I bought a handheld GPS from
Amazon.com on October 12th. I needed it for an Enduro Race in Arizona
on the 24th. I decided to go with the free shipping option because the
delivery date was estimated to be October 20th. The 20th came with no
package on my doorstep, so I decided to track it down...

Amazon's website gave a tracking number with the United States Postal
Service, and kept the estimated delivery date at October 20th. I went
to USPS.com, but they had no record of the package. Hmmph. UPS.com was
next, but they didn't have it either. Finally, I found that FedEx had
it and had sent it from Ohio to Pennsylvania, and weren't planning to
deliver it until the 24th (when I'd be in Arizona).

I filled out a customer service complaint, not with the expectation for
action on Amazon's part, but more as a form of therapy for myself. I
wanted to inform them that if it didn't arrive by the 23rd, I'd be
buying it locally and returning their shipment. I added to boot that I
would not be using Amazon in the future.

So last night I received this email. I was completely surprised, and
completely happy. In true "Dumb and Dumber" fashion, I thought "then
you go and TOTALLY redeem yourself!"

-----Original Message-----
From: "Amazon.com Customer Service" <cust.service03@amazon.com>
Sent: Tue, 20 Oct 2009 17:49:57 Pacific Daylight Time
To: Me
Subject: Your Amazon.com Order #XXX-XX-XXXXX-XX

Hello,

I'm extremely sorry to hear that this package hasn't yet arrived to you.

Your package was shipped on Oct 14, 2009 by a service called FedEx
SmartPost. FedEx takes these shipments from our fulfillment centers and
delivers them to the U.S. Post Office closest to the destination. The
U.S. Postal Service will make the final delivery.
I understand that you need this shipment by Oct 24, 2009 and the
tracking information on carriers website states that it will be arrived
on Oct 24, 2009.
To ensure that you receive your items as soon as possible for you needs,
I've placed a new order that's listed below. We'll ship it to the same
address as soon as possible. I've also upgraded the shipping method to
One-Day Shipping at no additional charge.

Estimated Delivery Date: Oct 22, 2009
There's no charge for this replacement order.

If the original order does show up, please use our Online Returns Center
to return the extra order or refuse the package :
http://www.amazon.com/returns

We look forward to your next visit.

Best regards,

Balaji K.
Amazon.com
We're Building Earth's Most Customer-Centric Company
http://www.amazon.com/your-account

Camping With Dad

I am currently 3 days into a 10-day vacation. I spent the first two with Dad in the Daniel Boone National Forest. I don't think I've ever camped with just him and me. It was really nice to spend time with him, and to hike to some really awesome places. I want to make that kind of trip a once-per-year deal from now on.

The next 6 days will be here in Florida. Niki and I plan to do nothing but relax...

Planning Habits and Raking Leaves

Planning is a theme theme has been in season lately. I've spent long hours in planning as we roll into a new Fiscal Year at work. In conversations with friends, noticing differences amongst our planning habits and styles have provoked friendly smiles and playful jabs. And at home, my habits of planning have become stressful. The habits are getting worse!

It's not that I don't plan. It's that my planning is like autumn. The ideas fall like leaves, a few at a time, and it's hard to judge when the process is complete. For me, there are always too many variables for a plan to hold true for long, so why start raking?

I know, you're probably thinking that mine is the yard that hopes the leaves blow on to someone else' yard. It's not. I'm sure to go rake; it's just that the decision comes at any time.

And in my defense, what of the time between the making of a plan and it's execution? Is it wasted? Could that time be used to make and execute other plans? Or is it just spent in waiting. Does the preparation have to take the entire time between the marching orders and "D-Day?"

And if you don't buy my defense, I'll just say it's hard to change. I know there is little comfort in jamming 10 gallons of plans into a 5-gallon bucket. And it's probably tough to be around someone that lives that way. I just want to cram as much life as I can into the life I'm given.

So to those around me, thanks for putting up with it. :)

Goings On

Tire Transport
Originally uploaded by tommykline

New knobby tires shortly! Bringing these rims into the shop to get more 'dirt-worthy' rubber mounted.

Niki, Mom, Mason and I went down the Eel River. That's a canoe strapped to my roof.

New Message
Originally uploaded by tommykline

Staining my deck. Needed it last year. Sorry, no picture...

Reassurance

If I could count on one thing per day, it would be that I'd see two big ol' ears and a fiercely wagging tail.

Kai won't leave my side. If I'm on my couch, she's beside me. When I go downstairs, she goes too. If I lay down, you'll find her in the room. She licks my elbow to get attention. She loves to play. In fact, if I could get an employer to pay her for playing, she'd be making
me rich. Her energy abounds.

I almost left this post titled "Girls and Dogs," and almost typed the simple statement "Both need a lot of reassurance." They do! Constant affection. They need to know you care.

But Guys need it too. They need reassurance from their companionship. Thus, I simply titled this "reassurance." It's a law like gravity.

New Message
Originally uploaded by tommykline

Anti-Advertising

Picture this: You are at a store, looking at an item that you've wanted for a while. You can afford it, and bring it home. You've imagined your ability to use it, and how much fun it will be, or how practical. So now it's under your arm, and you're hauling it to the checkout counter.
Now you're in your car driving home, and now you place it with all the other things that you thought you'd have fun with.

And there it sits.

I want to develop a mental program that runs just before the moment I pull out my billfold. I want this program to run my anti-advertising campaign. Slogan? Maybe "This thing you CAN own, but if you choose to, you HAVE to own it."

That's too long. Let's try "The cost beyond the cost: House full-o-shtuff, Volume 1."

Or "The Cost of Ownership, a Loss of Freedom."

See, I have too many things. I have back-ups for those things, in case they break. My house is full. And I can't give away most of it, because everyone else' houses are full too. Yet, whether I'm click-clicking around, or in a store perusing, that thought never runs through my mind until I'm home.

It doesn't cross my mind that I'll have to clean what I'm buying. I'll have to provide for it. Provide storage. Perform maintenance. Pay for electricity to run it. Wash it.
My grandfather used to say "never invest in anything that eats or needs painting." I used to think that was a complicated way to say "invest in land." Now I know it has to become a life philosophy.

Hold nothing dear, as everything will pass. Hold everything dear, as everything will pass. Don't try to own everything. Just enjoy it.

Anti-Advertising programming to continue...

Time Passes Again

Trailblazer of Fun
Originally uploaded by tommykline

Change can be seen and felt right now. I noticed geese flying south last night. And this week the corn husks have turned from vibrant green to dying yellow. Last week I began layering to stay warm on the bike in the morning.

Summer is ending, and fall is beginning.

It has been a great summer, but a quick one. It never really even began, really. No scorching-hot weeks.

Where did it all go?

Labor Day Project

Labor Day Project
Originally uploaded by tommykline

The good thing about Monday off? The ability to complete a project that gets started.

-Okay, I didn't get finished. But the baseboards are on, and it's all caulked up. All that remains is moving the stuff back in, and painting over the caulked parts!

Metaphorical Foliage and New Love

On a whim one day I decided to buy my shop lunch. I ordered "You Pick Two" for everyone, and was attempting to hold the bags and put on my hat while walking towards the door. I was in uniform so I had to get 'under cover' (meaning put wearing the hat) by the time I was outdoors. On my way through the glass doors I noticed a very pretty girl with a look of recognition in her eyes. It was only a momentary glance, and I went back to the shop and enjoyed lunch.

Later that day I received an email from someone who'd been pointed to the blogs by a college friend that was a High School classmate of Alison's. She'd sent her condolences just after Ali's passing, so I knew the name. We decided to have lunch one day... it was nice to be with new company; new company with whom I didn't have to explain my story. It was weird, but very nice. Funny thing when I tell someone about Ali for the first time - the conversation stops.

We decided to have lunch another time, and became friends.

Soon we were hanging out regularly and I had developed feelings. Niki was very VERY respectful of the situation, and I had to be very forthcoming about where I wanted our friendship to go.

I'll back-track here momentarily to detail my recognition of my own feelings. I have written previously that I held the secret of Alison's diagnosis for a long time. I did my very best to love and support her. I love Alison so deeply that it scarred. It's permanent. But I understand that she is gone. And maybe I had more time to prepare emotionally because of that secret. But what I didn't predict is that another love would not have to compete.

I thought my feelings for Alison would never allow for someone new.

And I thought that developing feelings for someone new would tear me up.

So it was really some revelation to realize that they didn't compete at all. Somehow they are separate, one having developed into an oak (I tried to link back to a post where I wrote about how our love went from a flower to a solid oak but realized in searching that I write the word "tree" a LOT), and one that had just budded, not yet developed it's own metaphorical foliage.

So I made a choice to let it grow.

I stand and face the future, molded by the past.

If we are less dramatic, I'll revise the last sentence to read 'I have resolved to see what happens.' I had hesitated to write about Niki for some time. Can you imagine the pressure that something like this could put on a relationship? But now I know we can handle it... and that this is the next step.

With warmth, all, welcome Niki.

I know it was meant to be. She has so much compassion, so much heart. If I had to list three things to write about her as an introduction, I'll say that 1) her smile and laugh is 'right', and infectious. 2) She really lives each day, not taking them for granted. and 3) she's got whatever 'it' is.

If I have learned anything in my twenties, it's that nothing is predictable. So I just write about it and enjoy the story.

Writing Well

I love writing. Choosing the perfect word and placing it in the perfect place is difficult and stressful, but if you can conquer the sentence, it can make a reader think, visualize, and understand. Writing is building, really, almost like a mason or a carpenter.

Only that which is well-built will last.

This morning a Marine asked me to revise an essay for his college writing class. After we were through, I thought to myself, 'wow, you are the worst person to ask for revision.' Instead of a few red pen scratch marks, I gave him an hour-long regurgitation of what I've learned to work for me. I know it was more than he bargained for. But those lessons made my mind ignite. So with my mind still firing, I'm capturing my own tips:


1) Use An Active Voice. The subject of each sentence should do the doing, not have the doing done to them. I ate the apple. Not this apple was eaten by Tom.

2) Vary Sentence Length. Run-on's suck, but so do sentences that are exactly the same length. The reader loses interest. He or she stops paying attention.

3) Use The Least Amount Of Words Possible Of Convey The Most Information. A writer can imply more by saying less. It makes the reader have to think more.

4) Describe, Don't Classify. The apple was good. That's classifying the apple as good. Instead, the apple was sweet, and the skin stuck between my teeth. The reader identifies with the sweetness, and the sweetness can be classified by the reader. And the reader can perceive him/herself picking at those apple remnants with a toothpick.


The depressing part about my regurgitation, was that when I went back to give an example of good writing, I came up short. A lot of my old posts are heinous. (That's classifying) Blogging certainly doesn't promote revision.

Finally, no post would be complete lately without a riding clip. This time the clip is short, and captures my day off Wednesday...

Learning Skill

WR-426 on MX Course
Originally uploaded by tommykline

I really like learning new things. And learning them well. So lately I've been concentrating on learning to ride in the dirt. Your body has to know what to do, kind of like playing an instrument. But unlike playing music, riding off-road can break both of your legs. So I have been researching and implementing, bit by bit. The reward is in feeling it go 'right' one time.

That feeling makes you want to try more.

There is a comfort zone one has to get one's self out of to learn or improve, but there's a skill-zone that if one passes, hospital bills ensue.

I came home Friday with a better feel for sliding into and accelerating out of turns, no injuries, and a big appetite to learn more.

Windstruck Ernie, and Clean Cars

Windstruck Ernie, and Clean Cars
Originally uploaded by tommykline

This is a quick photo of Ernie in a baby swing. He's inside my local carwash, and we have breakfast every Friday. Before returning to Indiana, I'd handwash my vehicles every Friday after work. But
here there's a Carwash Company that is remarkable, and much easier. This isn't a plug for them.
I love a clean car. It feels new, it feels like I'm doing 'good.' Clean cars make me excited for the weekend. I guess I'm a little like 'Monk', obsessive, but when my ol' bucket' is dirty, I start
to think 'new.' And we've all felt the buyer's remorse of that.
So for now, here's to sipping my coffee with Ernie.

A Year

One year ago today, Alison found peace. I walked by her side through each and every day of her struggle. I was there for every tear... I was there for every laugh. Together we found a strength that got us through. My love has never faultered. Neither has my faith. My physical strength gave way long before my will did. On that fateful day, I held her in my arms as long as I could. I feel terrible for not holding her longer. But I think it's right that she went when we looked away.

I am writing this from Center Cemetery; it's beautiful here.

New Message
Originally uploaded by tommykline

The sun is shining through the muggy air. The corn almost hides the church completely, just like it did last year. It's here that I know that truly, I will never move on. The loss is felt now as it was felt one year ago, as it will be felt in 50 more. But I have to heal. No pain this deep could ever be sustained in one heart.

With all of her spirit and grace, I have to show as much now.

Dirt Road Whoops

Dirt Road Whoops
Originally uploaded by tommykline

One of thosse new hobbies. I have been having a great time learning to ride in the dirt. A few weeks ago I even participated in an Enduro Race in Matthews, Indiana. It was a ton of fun.

Books Call Out

I've been thinking about returning for some time now. Writing is a difficult endeavor, especially if you're not well-practiced. So each time I've attempted, I've fallen short. But tonight a few books called out to help me while I was at Barnes and Noble. Have you ever noticed how you'll gravitate toward one book amongst thousands? Call it bookstore-karma. Put yourself in the right frame of mind, and the perfect book will present itself to you.
Tonight two books stood out: "The are of Racing in the Rain" by Garth Stein and "Love is a Mixed Tape" by Rob Sheffield. I sat down, and found why Stein's book was appropriate. It's written in the perspective of a dog, and seems to be about the bond between a dog and his/her owner. Kai is my new dog. Sheffield's book was a more direct correlation: after 7 years of being with his wife, she died. I was with Ali from 2001-2008. Initially I thought 'Why can't I escape this theme?' And then I answered myself, 'Because it probably holds something for you.'
So I cut to the chase: page 213. If you're in a bookstore in the near future, you can read the second paragraph in lieu of me trying to get my own words out there; he spoke them for me.
To both the author and my own revelation, life after loss is not a second-rate life. The radiance is still there. It's no copy.
I've found new hobbies, new avenues for happiness, new direction, and even new love. I've found life before and life after impossible to compare, and in that impossibility, there is no competition. It's simply different.
It's my intention to keep writing. Not because people are reading, but because I need to write. And the story is not complete.

Continuation

I've been noted as having blogged very little lately. Several emails and a few phone calls wondering how I'm doing, and where I'm at, all responded to by saying that I find that I am doing well, and just haven't found an 'Our Lady' voice as of late. But I'm seeing that others I read are likely in the same boat.

If you haven't found it yet, Google-Reader is a handy tool for reducing your time surfing from blog to blog. I can never remember all the different people I read, so every time I stumble back upon a blog that I read, I add it to those I've subscribed to on Google-Reader. That way I know what I read, and I know what's new. New posts arrive in Bold.


After typing the above, I get the distinct feeling that if I could read your thoughts, or if I'd said that to you over coffee, you'd respond with 'Tom, I hate to break it to you, but you are the last one in the country to get on-board with Google-Reader. In fact, only a few outside of the U.S. aren't using it, and they generally live in wig-wam type structures, slaughter pigs, and pick berries."


The point is - of those I read, 2009 seems like the end of the blog.
No one is writing anymore. No one is reading either.

The fad is over.


And for me, my life has turned. I'm no longer building a life with Alison, and I'm no longer fighting her illness with her. And I'm no longer a grief-stricken mess. Maybe inside I am. But generally not.



If I could end my life (metaphorically) and start-a-fresh (metaphorically), I'd make sure I took every single lesson I've learned, every single story I've lived, every single kiss Alison gave me, and pack it into my bag, and head on down the road.




See you on down the road...

Excited For Spring

Is it too early write that as a Post Title? I ask because last night I checked the weather, warning that Arctic air will be blowing down onto the Indianapolis area starting today, and there is a "Cold Air Advisory" for the rest of the week. The type of air that bites your skin, making it eerily red instantly, and making you squint your eyes, so as not to lose them.

But I'm here in Florida, and yesterday I sat at the pool reading an article entitled 'Bush Camping: How to Survive 5 years in a Tent.' The article is in the current issue of "Road RUNNER: Motorcycle Touring and Travel." It's reinvigorated my longing for those two-wheeled machines in hibernation in the garage. I'd almost forgotten about them. But I think it's more like repressing them so as not to long so dearly for the coming of Spring.

I can't wait for the first Spring weekend.

Speaking of magazines, the racks are full of hyper-specialized magazines. And that's just the problem with magazines: are any of us really into a specialization that much? Could I really want to read about weight-lifting and how to 'have a bodacious bod by Spring' every three weeks? What about a monthly subscription to read about the latest cars? I won't even mention the political/social clamoring, or the celebrity who-dun-it's.

I guess everyone has ONE special interest, though, and I've found mine.

I could read about possible motorcycle routes, about early morning coffee followed up with leaning into the curves, about places to stop and see, and about the techniques of self-preservation on the road - everyday. Good job, RoadRUNNER, you were a beacon yesterday for me, a perfect fit in the mess that is the magazine rack.

New Years Visit

January 2nd was sunny and brisk, so having accomplished what I needed to at work, I drove to visit Alison's grave. I haven't been avoiding it...but I could be accused of such. It was just that there's no gravestone there yet. By the time they were finished carving it, the ground wouldn't allow for the footer to be poured. I feel bad about that. I guess it just takes time.


I didn't stay long. I stood there by myself, just trying to be there - be present. I let myself feel what I felt. I could feel the sun in my eyes, I could feel the cold bite at my cheek, and I could feel it slowly cool my jeans until my legs were cold. I didn't, however, feel Alison's presence. She's just as much anywhere else as there. And I was sad about that. It would be nice to have a place to truly connect back. But death is expansive and permanent.

Life is too short.

Tomorrow I'm flying with my family for a vacation where the sun shines. Time to relax. Read some books on the beach. Oh, and run. Yesterday I tipped the scale at 224. Not that it's ALL BAD weight. But it's a good thing I'm 6'4. Last year when Ali and I were doing great things with our diets, I was 204. Christmas and New Years really packs it on!

Resolution

I'm finding it difficult to be resolute with plans in 2009, let alone have enough perspective to force some change within me by making 'resolutions.'

I have chosen one though: I'm giving up beer. And Regular Coke. And the reason is silly and materialistic, etc. I'm aging, and in order to stay in shape I need to control my diet. Right now I'm in really good shape everywhere but around my torso, where I am holding onto some beer and coke.

In the back of my mind I feel that my beer resolution is like rearranging chairs on the Titanic. Isn't there better things to do? Like steer the ship?

What are your resolutions?

Looking Back, Looking Forward

December 12Th, 2003.

I left Washington D.C. at 9:30AM with 12 CD's in the changer, all my clothes in the trunk, and a ring in the center console. My knees shook for the entire 12-hour drive to northern Indiana. The streets in town were dark and wet from a recent snow, and I pulled into the alley next to the house and walked to the door with the big ring box showing in my jeans-pocket. Ali was excited to see me; it had been since before Thanksgiving since we'd been together.

The last time we met, we rented a cabin in beautiful Moraine State Park outside Butler, Pennsylvania. I had already decided to make her my wife. I'd called her father on the return to D.C. When I asked if I for permission to marry his little girl, he said, "You just gotta answer one question Tom, do you like her?"

I told him I loved her. He said, "That's not what I asked. Do you like her?"

I said, "Well yeah, I like her. Of Course I do."

Ol' Dave said, "Well hell, then, yeah you can marry her!"

Great relationship advice from 'Captain Morgan.'

But this story is about proposing, not about asking permission. As I brushed off the cold in her mom's living room, December 12Th, I asked if we could do Christmas right then and there. Ali laughed, knowing that I can't keep surprises long. They kill me.

After exchanging gifts, I knelt down and asked her is she'd make me the happiest man alive, and be my wife forever. It probably came out rattly, meek, like a giant mouse, because I was as nervous as I'd been in my entire life. Not because I didn't know that she'd say yes, but because 'that was it.' The Step. The Promise. The Oath.

We talked about a date afterwards, and both coming from meager beginnings and barely pennies in our pockets, we decided to wed at the Justice of the Peace. We chose to use what money we did have towards starting our household, and buying a house at our first duty station. What exciting times!

So then we were wed, 5 years ago today. December 24Th, 2003. My mom was supposed to be the only one there as a witness, because we had plans to do another ceremony when the weather was nicer. But my little sister was a stow-away, and showed at the court-house against my wishes. Good thing too, because we needed two witnesses. :)

So here I am, 5 years later, reflecting back on what has been one wild ride, both fulfilling and heart-breaking. But I am also looking forward. Because whatever I am still here for, I'm going to be ready for it. I'm a better man for having loved Alison. I won't even try to guess what lies ahead. But I'm choosing to be optimistic.

That Which Goes Unwritten

Of all the things that we've written and said, so much more is being communicated with our eyes. For all of our attempts to control what we convey with our words, and for our struggle to be aware of our body language, our eyes simply betray us.

You cannot hide what you're feeling with them. They heat like fire when we're trying to hold back our anger. They reveal us when we're trying to conceal our pain. They have a shine to their own when a memory comes trailing in. And they convey love when your words fall short.

All we need is listen to them. Listen to our own, and hear what others' are saying to us...

The Path Ahead/Report Card

I haven't written much lately, but it's not because I haven't been thinking about it. I have thought of it a lot. I've been trying to find a way to catch the good ol' blog up with where I am. Finding a way to write my way out from under the remarkable tragedy that was August, and find a new direction to a bunch of words that have been about fighting an illness, harnessing love, and staying true. It can still be about the latter two. Harnessing the love that is in each of us, staying true to what is happening, what has happened, and the direction I want to push towards in the coming months and years.

So I guess what I'll do now is give you a report card of where I am.

In terms of my grieving process, I can happily report that I've come miles since August, miles since September. And I am elated to report that my progress has been paralleled by the changing of the seasons. Ice has not come over my heart, though it has my house, my deck and plants. I have found a way to keep the entire gamut of emotions. I feel what you'd think I'd feel, namely sadness. But I've found the other ones too. Excitement, happiness and love. I've rekindled friendships, made new ones, and found a way to continue to live with the same passion that I knew before Ali passed away and even before she was sick at all.

That doesn't mean to say I've forgotten. Certain things are crystallized into my mind and are still causing pain. But mostly that which has been crystallized are the lessons I've learned from the experience. I know I am a better person.

I have had some difficulties relating to family in recent weeks and months. I think it's exacerbated by each of our grieving processes. Everyone is going through it, and each is at a different spot. It takes time to find out where they're at. And even more to show where I am. I've been upset by their seeming ease with which they've taken back up everyday living. I've been upset at their excitement for what I find mundane. But I've also felt some of the same towards me, with others who are wondering how I can enjoy anything at all. Grieving is a personal process, and I feel like it may be like a Sine Curve, it never quite ends, but I'm hoping it lessens towards the limit.

So that's kind of where I am. Finding new joys. Rethinking the story, combing for the lessons I need to take with me.

In the coming weeks, I'll write less about my state of things, and more about what's happening, and my thoughts into other things. But it doesn't mean that I'm not in a process...I'm just taking a new direction. Tiring of writing about it.

Not Posting

I flew to sunny San Diego Sunday morning. Time to do a lot of thinking. I found myself sitting outside my room, gazing at the sailboats and palm trees, just lost in my own mind. Then I realized I what I was looking at.

Retrieving one's self from one's thoughts can be tricky.

New To Me:Self-Treat

I drove my Grandma to church Thanksgiving morning. She has a very nice Cadillac, and it made me remember my two previous 'Lac's. My 1986 Coupe De'Ville and my 2001 STS. Both of which I am digging to find photos of...

Well, let's just say the drive 'wet my whistle' for it, so I researched my dream car. Funny dream I know, but this car is perfect. It's long and lean, and the lines are perfect. It's smooth and powerful, and handles well. The seats hug you.

The unfortunate thing about the 'Eldorado' is that they stopped making them in 2002. So when I found this one with 52k miles on it, I went to see it. And then I made an offer, and then I drove it home.

This version is the ETC, Eldorado Touring Coupe. The way you can tell the difference between these and the normal version is that there is no chrome; the exterior is largely monochromatic. But it also has 300hp vice 275.

I know it's shameful, but I haven't been this happy in a while.

Thanksgiving and Motorcycle Accidents

In the split second that the deer impacted the side of the motorcycle, I found myself indifferent about the outcome. I flew over the handlebars thinking 'wow, so this is how I go.' I was okay with dying in that instant.
I don't mean to say that I wouldn't be sad for my family, but it would almost seem fitting to follow Ali out.
I felt content in that moment, content with every event in my life leading up to flying through the air in a suit and helmet.
I remember thinking 'what the hell...' and that scared me afterwards.

But it's about contentment, not depression. It's more about thankfulness for what I've had, not about being ready to hang it up.

I'm glad I didn't go just yet. It was a chance to continue, to live with passion and continue to enjoy the blessings that come to me. And today, I have new blessings, and old ones, and big things to be thankful for, and small things to appreciate.

Tomorrow's another day. If another deer has a vendetta tomorrow, I will fly just as willingly. But until that time, I'm enjoying every minute.

6 Things That Give Me Joy

This week I was tagged by Jocelyn to reveal 6 things in which I find joy. It took some time, because joy doesn't play like electricity, or like water; you can't turn it on or off.

So the source identification was difficult for me.

Here's what I came up with: Joy finds me instead.

It finds me through small things sometimes, and it clobbers me with big things in some others, and it doesn't always find me in the same place.

But it finds me all the same. So choosing six is easy. I chose a video format for my six:

Comedy.


Subtlety.


Therapy.


Indulgences.


Expanses.


Contentment.

Grocery Stores Are The Enemy

I have a new nemesis: grocery shopping.

My senses have returned to me. My situational awareness and skill in observation are keen again, and what I've sensed is that shopping for one bites the big donkey. I've been avoiding the grocery store for some time, but I couldn't hold out any longer.

As soon as I removed only two bananas I caught a glance from a lady that said, "shouldn't you be at the licquor store, bucco?" And then HOLY COW you should have seen the appraisal this lady with her son gave me in the Organic section. Her wrinkly eyes screamed "Shouldn't you just stick to Chef Boyardee?"

Even the cheese says "Kraft Singles" and then comes in two dozen. I prefer block cheese anyways, discriminators! Buns? Family size. Bread? Simply proof that 'just enough' is a foreign concept in America.

And there is a bit of sadness in all the hustle. My cart ends up costing 40 bones, and will last for a week. Everyone assumes that I am 1, a party-boy, or 2, dumped or kicked out by some girl or wife that is deservedly pissed at me.

So I implore all you shoppers out there, reserve judgment from dudes in leather jackets at the grocery store. You never really do know their story.

The Scent That Winter Brings

This morning as I left the house the familiar scent of Fall was gone.  The emptiness in the air hailed the smell of winter, a solitary lack of scents that distinguishes by freezing each of the little hairs inside your nose on its way to your lungs.  And as the air goes deep it wages a battle against the comfortable air inside, hesitant to evacuate.  

I almost forgot the smell of winter.

I find my nose controls my mind.  A scent is like the key code to a machine that overcomes time and space.  Just a small amount can take you back to a place, or put you beside a person.   It can carry you away to things you'd forgotten.  Or another can change your mind.  Change your perspective about the day.

I am frigg'n Tucan Sam,  soaking in the winter.

A Round Reflection of My Wishes

I get why the Greeks began by invoking the muse. Why they asked for help, and grace, and for their words to flow. I've been thinking about the following for a long time, but every time I begin to write it, the words and sounds get garbled, and I cannot write them in a cohesive string of letters and sentences. So here goes:

When Alison was in such pain, even before being diagnosed with cancer, I wished with every part of me to be able to be the sick one. I wanted to absorb her pain and relieve her. I wanted to endure chemotherapy for her. I wanted to be the one strapped in a chair getting blood for hours. I wanted to wear the mask in the machine. I wanted to bear the burden for her, and bring her peace.

Now... I am glad that I am the one left grieving.
It's a tough road.

I know in my heart that hers is better now, and that she is enjoying health and happiness, pain-free.

Her struggle is over.

Now I'm in my own.

But see, if I said that wrong, it would come out as 'I am glad she's the one that passed away.' And that's not true.

I wish she were pain-free here, and if we had to choose, I'd have chosen to be the one that died.

But I wouldn't want her to feel the loss of me. I wouldn't have her shed those tears.

So at the end of this story, I would choose to be the one with the pain, the one dealing with long hours and needles, I would die in place of her, and then grieve over myself on Alison's behalf.

I just want her to be the happy one. The care-free one.

She deserved to be the one with no worries.

Bright Spots Within the Impending Winter

Some of my friends look forward to Octoberfest Beer from Sam Adams,
others find pleasure in breaking out warm sweaters, but I have this to
admit as cheering up my season:

Specialty Coffee Creamers.

So my eyes lit up this morning, walking into the grocery store. There,
displayed so brightly, was a tall display of "Peppermint Mocha,"
"Pumpkin Spice," and "Gingerbread."

Ah, the little blessings.

Advice, Sound and Timely

I heard something this week that is profound and timely in my life. It
was the perfect thing for my ears, and I hope that it'll be the perfect
thing for someone else as I relay it. Here goes:

The Dalai Lama was being interviewed by an eastern psychologist for a
book, and the interviewer was trying to probe the Dalai Lama's feelings,
trying to paint him as a human. He asked if the Dalai Lama had any
regrets.

The Dalai Lama replied, "Yes."

The interviewer said, "For instance?"

The Dalai Lama said something close to this: "A monk came to me and
asked if he, the monk, could take on a particularly arduous practice as
he was certain that it would lead to enlightenment. I told him not to,
judging that he was too old for such a practice. The monk seemed to take
it well, bowed and left. I later learned that he committed suicide,
certain that he would be reborn and would be younger and able to do the
practice."

The Dalai Lama admitted his feelings of responsibility for the monk's
death. The psychologist asked him how he ever got over that. The Dalai
Lama looked puzzled and then said, "I didn't", with a certain amazed
surprise at the question. Then he went on to say, "I didn't. But I
don't caught up in it."

And I think that's a key to going through things, events like my wife's
death, or whatever has a very deep impact on you. Not to repress it,
but to be present with the pain. Examine it, but not be consumed by it.
Sounds as hard as it is, but I think I can do that. I think I can feel
the loss but rebuild a life. I can lose her but not lose the the color
of life. I can still live with passion and quality, zest and happiness.
Even if serious loss and sadness is there as well.

American Sycamore Leaf

The Weight of Carrying Secrets

The weight of secrets is cumbersome. I've never been a heavy lifter in that regard. As a young boy, I'd find something out and instantly tell. It was unbearable for me to hold onto. So I dropped each one. I let them fall to the floor, relieved to be out from under them. So there is an ironic quality to the following story:

In order to fulfill my love, I carried the biggest weight. I held the biggest secret with my untrained muscles. I carried it for miles and miles. For weeks.

I sat beside her. I knew full-well she was dying. In my heart I knew it for years. I was able to fool myself for some time, barely enough time to build up for the next carry of the secret. The doctor wouldn't give Ali a time frame when she was diagnosed. The signs would point in no single direction, and Ali didn't want to know.

But shortly after diagnosis and treatment, he pulled me aside and gave me the weight.

"She's got a year. Year and a half, maybe."

And it was a secret I wanted to have, but wanted to drop quickly. I wanted to tell her so badly. But she gave every sign that knowing would lessen her will to fight.

And so when a year and a half was over, in the course of our communication, addressing her concerns, I relented the secret. I gave back the weight.

She said, "I am so glad I didn't know about that."

And it felt good to let go. But I was given a bigger one shortly after that. And now I knew she didn't want to know. So I went to carrying.

And I watched her dying. I held her hand, I drove her around. I used kid-gloves with her. I watched her lose weight. I watched her change shape. I watched her smile change, but said nothing.

And on a Saturday after I returned from Washington, I enjoyed my time with her. We took our time getting ready for the emergency room. We showered. I washed her hair. We went to the store to get another pillowcase to delineate what was the hospital's and what was Ali's. We packed smartly, prepared-ly. We picked up some sandwiches and went to a park. I was bearing the weight of a new secret. She was bearing the weight of her pain. We admired a white gazebo, and thought about what it would be like to have a wedding ceremony there in the fall.

And we waited for news that night. And when it came, she denied it. Unable to bear the news and the pain. And it weighted me. It added to my secret. But I carried it. I carried it upstairs to the room. I sat with it next to me. I wheeled it around.

Those weeks in the hospital were glorious. Glorious and tragic. She loved going to an outdoor garden on the second floor of the building, sitting amongst the Christmas lights strung around the potted trees. She loved fresh sandwiches and sweet tea. She loved giggling and visiting with her family.

There was a night when I couldn't carry the secret anymore, and I told her that I had doubts. She knew what I was saying and exploded! "If you don't believe, how can I do any of this!" And she was all tears.

I picked up the secret and put it on my back.

She, by then, was sedated. Heavy drugs from the anxiety she had when putting on her mask. She was diminishing, and I was watching. I was petting her. Talking to her. Feeding her. Loving her.

Lying to her.

I watched her wrists get thinner. I watched her eyes change shape. I smelled her sweat change the scent that I knew so well.

When I placed her in hospice, I couldn't tell her. She thought she was taking a break from treatment. And I guess that's not an un-truth. She was bearing what she could. When she could bear no more, she got up. She disrobed.

We sedated her.

And then we watched her go.







And that's how heavy the weight of a secret can be. But it was my fair share. She had the pain. I had the secret. No reason. No regret.

I'd do it all over again. I'd do it better the next time.

So it was driving across some fields some weeks ago, revisiting some songs, when I heard Death Cab For Cutie's "What Sarah Said." When I first heard the song, it rang true for how it was to spend your life in an ICU. When I heard it that night, only 5 words rang true:

Love is watching someone die.






These words are me laying down the weight. I can carry it no more.

Three Months: Mind Projects

It's been three months, and three hours, and 12 minutes.

I am currently re-keying my mind. Trying to get out of it. Change it. Evolve.

Coming To Terms

Tonight was the night I'd mentioned earlier. Where each family hired sitters, got rooms at the Omni, dressed up in evening gowns, and hit the town.
I've been dreading tonight.
Before I went, I stopped over at my Sister-In-Law's, and she asked if it was hard without Alison. I said, "it's not that bad, really."
But what I meant was that I miss smelling her perfume. And that I can almost touch the back of her neck, with her blond hair pulled up. I can nearly see and feel her dress' fabric, and I miss admiring the shape of her legs under it as she sat with them crossed.
What saying what I said meant was that my game face was on already, and there was no way to allow those thoughts while I still had to attend and talk with the boys and such. 2 Marines asked where my wife was (having observed my ring). The problem is that it's almost worse to have everyone know. But 2's not bad right? 5 more asked how old I was. I guess the uni makes me look too young for such a rank.

The counselor I am seeing said that the only thing that can make me feel better is to have her back, and that since that is simply not possible, neither is feeling better.

Now I believe her.

What's worse is that I feel like telling someone. Namely Ali, though. I want to tell her how lonely I am without her.

If I die tonight, it will be because my heart can go no further.

I've Been Thinking Of This One...

Writing this sometimes seems pointless. But the pointlessness doesn't stop at writing. What's worth anything really? Admit it; we all think like this if we allow ourselves to really think. It's just like thinking, "well, this has been said before." Or "this has already been drawn." "Someone else has played this song."

And writing is like that.

The best I can do is get it in key. Right?
I can tune these words so they won't hurt your mental ears as you read them.
If I work hard enough at it, I can tune them fine enough to ring true.

But is a true note reason enough in itself to keep playing?
Am I losing you?

But then I think some more. And I think it's not a singular note that's true, but a collection, played in varying tones, at different times and in different lengths, at different intensities....
It becomes about the spaces in between the notes as well. What's not written.

And if it all comes together, it's a song. And if any one's listening, it could help them. A good song cuts straight to my soul.

But the singer won't hear the resonance of his song. The writer won't read how his words are read. And we all will not feel our effect.

But play we must.

Write, draw, breathe. Even when we're off-key and no one's listening.

Life As A Stream

If my life were a stream, it would echo the properties of the river I kayaked on Sunday. Largely, I follow the path of least resistance, erratic as it sometimes seems. My life's attitude largely reflects the circumstances or weather that surrounds me. Like a stream it's steady and rhythmical.

My life finds a way to keep flowing, even if a bit of pooling is necessary.

And as I kayaked this weekend, I learned my life is much like the river in another way I hadn't considered:

Over rocks, between downed trees, in fast waters, and whenever the water gets turbulent, whenever it gets creative to find a way to flow, the riverbed is amazingly clear for quite some distance. Below, the adversity has carried away all of lesser substance. The more significant things remain. That which is more significant becomes easier to see. Life becomes a sand bed, where there is clarity previously unknown. All the particles that fill up and dull down are gone. Only the important remains.

For that reason, I find it easier to see the importance of Alison. She brought substance to my life. She gave me significance. She brought richness.

And as I find a way to keep flowing, I'll reflect on her for quite some time. I'll reflect on our relationship, what it meant to me, the lessons I'll take away from it.