On the Occasion of His 94th Birthday...

Grandpa on his birthday, with his girlies.

***

"Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family."  ~Anthony Brandt

***

Today was one of those days that I wished I had a laptop, or even a scrap of paper, for a brain dump. All those hours in the car, coming back from LA, coming back from family, from the birthday and I had so many thoughts and ideas crawling around in my head and now they've disappeared like ghosts.

With my luck, they'll wake me at 3am and then I'll try to catch them, like fireflies.

We had a lovely time. Grandpa was happy. I think we tuckered him out but in a good way that I know he won't mind.

The girlies are beautiful and must be renamed as Little Curly Girl's hair is straighter now. Princess Chubness is getting long and lean and is not really so chubby anymore. She's walking and growing little teeth and is sporting about ten thousand long eyelashes.

It's raining and I'm home.

I'm going to lie in bed and listen to it rain. Nighty nite.

Let Us Not Forget

Today is the 64th anniversary of the invasion of Normandy, otherwise known as D-Day.

Here's to those young, brave men who lost so much but turned the tide of war. One of those brave guys was my grandpa, who landed at Omaha Beach.

Merci to sweet Mary-Laure at Aurea for her lovely post.

***

For those of you who live in San Francisco, sometime be sure to pay a visit to the S.S. Jeremiah O'Brien, one of only two remaining fully restored Liberty ships.

This ship is a recognized national monument, and they have regular events where you can sail aboard this colossal ship and learn about the Liberty Ships and the brave men who sailed them. I took a trip last year, and the best part of all was talking to all of the men who sailed on ships like these--Merchant Marines and U.S. servicemen--learning about their lives on board in time of war.

They loved telling of their stories, some hair-raising and some sweet, and I was so glad to hear them.

Home of the Brave

Today I spent a good part of the day with my grandpa. He's in his final home, a beautiful hospice in the Veteran's Hospital in Palo Alto. Outside his bedroom window, he has a gorgeous view of the rolling hills and live oaks.

I told him there's not a CEO in all of Silicon Valley that has a view like he does.

I made my grandpa a present, inspired by your advice and suggestions. I took some of my very best photos of San Francisco and created a beautiful hard-bound printed book, with a preface of a personal letter that some of you suggested I write.

At first, I was afraid to write the letter...where to start? What to say? But it was actually a lovely and sad moment, and I'm so glad and grateful that you guys suggested that I write to him.

My grandpa really, really enjoyed the book and the letter. I wanted to tell all of you about it because you helped inspire me to make it. So it was like I took a little bit of all of you and your best wishes with me.

Thank you so much!

Let It Be

I sang that song at least twenty times in the car this weekend, on the way to see my grandpa in the hospital and back home again.

It was such a funny feeling to leave San Francisco, as I so rarely even drive anymore, and even more rarely leave the city limits. I just don't.

I felt like I was leaving Brigadoon. For a long time, San Francisco has been more than just a place to live, it's been my everything--the source of my living and my pleasures. I have not wanted to leave it except for my travel daydreams.

So being in the car, with real warm sun shining on me through the sunroof, both windows down, lots of empty highway around me (I was on 280, not 101), that was an odd sensation.

I liked catching the sight of my hair in the rear-view mirror, being whipped around by the wind. I sang Blondie's Greatest Hits, and a little bit from Revolver. But I had all this pent-up-ness inside of me. Part of me felt like it was going to explode and the other part was full of dreading. The closer I got to my destination, the more I could feel it building up.

And then I played Let It Be for the first time and burst out crying. It was instantaneous. I like that song a lot, but for some reason it never hit me until that moment what a song could mean. How a song could comfort you--like a person, almost.

It's probably not a really great idea to cry in the car while you're going down the freeway at speed, but if you're going to cry anyway and there's no stopping you, you might as well listen to this song.





When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree,
There will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted there is
Still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be.
Let it be, let it be. Yeah
There will be an answer, let it be.

And when the night is cloudy,
There is still a light that shines on me,
Shine on until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
There will be an answer, let it be.
Let it be, let it be,
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

My Pit Crew

Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something and has lost something. ~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.


***

I wanted to thank all of you for sending me such wonderful advice about my grandpa via comments and email. Saying thank you just doesn't seem to be enough because I'm not sure you realize how incredibly helpful and important your concern and care are.

I've had a bit of brain freeze lately about the whole situation, including how to reply to your kind advice and how to implement it.

And I'm still a bit overwhelmed--or maybe just tired--but things went really well this weekend. Much much better than I thought they would.

I kinda felt like I was in my race car, speeding around the track, and when it came time for my pit stop, you guys were my crew. Whatever I needed--refuelling, new tires, repairs--you were right there, and immediately so.

I was able to get back on the track because of you.

I hope you'll consider me part of your pit crew, too. Because I will be when you need it.

xoxo,

tangobaby

The Other Shoe Dropping

Sometimes at night I light a lamp so as not to see. ~ Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943

***

Again, another of those thinking-out-loud posts.

A few weeks ago I wrote about my grandpa and his not being well. Well, a few days ago we found out what is wrong and today my mom called to tell me that things have moved to the next stage: saying goodbye.

I am not going into all of the details because that's not what I'm looking for right now. In a moment, my day turned from a regular one to a surreal one. I am supposed to visit him in a day or so, and just be with him and tell him what I am up to and keep him company and not talk about his condition.

I honestly don't know how I am going to do that. Just the thought of it is killing me. I am horrible at hiding my feelings and I know that I am not supposed to go in there and cry.

***

Tonight I was looking for some sort of diversion so I could get myself together and get resolved for what comes next. I feel like I'm in a car that's going to crash but it hasn't happened yet so now I am just bracing myself for the impact. I know I have a seatbelt and airbags and I won't be killed, but it's still going to hurt a lot and there's no getting around it.

I thought at first maybe I would still go dancing but I just couldn't handle the thought of being overcome by emotion in either a perfect dance or by being a wallflower and bursting into inappropriate tears at a milonga.

So The Boy was very kind and took me to North Beach. We listened to Ella Fitzgerald singing Cole Porter and the warm, pink light of the setting sun made the wonderful old buildings seem like understanding friends. And then as the sky darkened, the neon lights of Columbus Avenue were distracting, and hanging out at City Lights Bookstore for a while and reading Lawrence Ferlinghetti was calming. The Boy tried his darnedest, bless him.

But there is a certain time of night where nothing can distract me and I'm just here stuck with what the hell am I going to do now?

Which is now. Which is why I have a question for you.

If you have a favorite thing that is soothing to you, something that always works for you when times are dark, I'd like to know what it is. I feel like I need to build up a bunker of stuff that will either keep my mind distracted, calmed, or whatever. I have a few things in my arsenal, like some books I'll read again and I'll watch Rivers and Tides again, but I'm really tired and kind of at a loss right now and I'm wondering what you turn to.

I don't drink, take drugs or have a TV, so that might limit some of your suggestions. I'm also not religious so that might put a damper on things too. But if you still have a thought after all of this, let me know. Please don't feel you have to write something sentimental and kind--if you've read this far, I know you're already thinking something kind already and if you write that to me, you'll make me cry at work, which is where I read a lot of your comments anyway.

But if nothing else, despite my chatter about rainbows and Jane Austen characters, I am a practical person. So whatever I can do to prepare myself (if such a thing is possible) will make me feel like I am doing something useful besides running my mind around in circles.

***

Below is a scene from Rivers and Tides. If you have not seen this film about artist Andy Goldsworthy, then perhaps I've given you something for your bunker someday.

I Wouldn't Read This Post If I Were You

Alternate Title: Existential Crisis.

When I first started writing this blog, I didn't think anyone would read it, so I just wrote whatever I felt like. And then people started reading it, and I still sort of wrote whatever I felt like. It's the writing part that has been somewhat therapeutic for me, even if it's only about dancing or a movie or whatever interests me at the moment. I've always wanted to write but either felt I didn't have anything to write about or lacked the discipline. There's something about the blog format that somehow makes it easy for me to put my thoughts together in a way that is pleasing to me. The act of putting words together, moving my fingers on the keyboard and watching the typed words appear before me on the screen is satisfying in a very real way.

So I am writing this post with that in mind. That it will be somewhat therapeutic for me and will help me sort out my thoughts. So you don't have to read it. I just have to write it.

My grandpa is in the hospital. I went to see him today and he looked so completely fragile and terrible that it almost made me gasp. Apparently last night he fainted and fell over in the bathtub, and my grandma called my mom and dad and they rushed over and then called the paramedics. They took him to emergency and this morning admitted him into the hospital for a few days.

The doctor thinks he has pneumonia and right now he's hooked up to an IV and they're giving him antibiotics and a diuretic to help with the fluid that has accumulated in his body which is making it hard for him to breathe. I was in the room when the doctor came in and spoke to him, and it didn't really sound like this was going to be too much of a big deal and that my grandpa could go home in a few days.

My grandpa is 91 years old and for most of his life, I think he has been a pretty healthy person. He's a cool guy, not a real grandfatherly type, in my mind. He is to me someone you can have a fascinating conversation with about 20th century history, politics, old movies, current events. He used to work in the printing industry, and since that was what I got my college degree in, we used to talk about typesetting and printing presses. My grandpa is not one of those cuddly types; he's pretty reserved and very deliberate and thoughtful in his manner of speaking. He was an MP in the Army during WWII and landed at Normandy. I think it was Omaha Beach. I know for a fact he saw a lot of things that affected him for the rest of his life even though he refused to really talk about it. Although I don't really know what he did in France, he is a hero to me.

God. I can't stop crying right now. I am a mess. Normally when I am feeling out of sorts, I desperately want to go dancing because it's so perfect at taking me out of myself, my problems, my worries. Being close to another human being, breathing and just feeling the music. But I can't even think about that right now. I think if someone tried to dance with me, I would dissolve into a puddle of tears. I am doing that right now.

I'm trying to figure it all out. Part of my problem is that I don't believe in heaven/afterlife. Or reincarnation. I wish I did. It would make me feel so much better for my grandpa. And for me. I mean, he's lived a long life and if I could think that he would go on living it somewhere else, I'd feel better about him being sick in the hospital. I brought my deck of cards and did two little silly card tricks for him and my grandma and my dad. Something to entertain but it seemed so pathetic. He was too tired. When I left, I told him I loved him and he said, "Why would you love an old man like me?" It was so small and sad the way he said it. I made myself not cry until I got outside to the car.

I've spent years now making a concerted effort to do the things I really want to do and surround myself with interesting friends. I stopped my fantasy of having a "career" years ago when all it seemed like was that I was working myself to death to make someone else a lot of money. So now I have a job that is well below my abilities but it doesn't give me any stress. I make a decent living and can afford to buy myself the things I want, engage in activities that interest me, and travel once or twice a year. I don't want to have any regrets or think that when I'm very old, I denied myself the experiences that I wanted to have. I think about that a lot. But right now all of those things just seem like postponing the inevitable. Who am I kidding?

So that doesn't keep me from being frightened about what comes next. I've only seen one dead person in my life. It was my boyfriend Dave's mother. She had ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease, which is something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. When I met her, we basically were there to say goodbye to her, even though none of us said as much. She was obviously an extremely bright woman and faced her condition with what I can only say was a very enlightened outlook and a real sense of humor. She struck me as being an incredibly brave person even though by that time she had already lost most of her ability to speak and move. I remember thinking that I could never be as brave as she was. The next time I saw her was in the funeral home.

I know me very well. I know that in a few days I will feel okay again and I will move on. I always do. But right now I just had to write this all down so I don't wander around the house in circles. It feels like the only thing I can do.