Saturday, August 26, 2017


I am hoping to start a new tradition, but don't tell my kids. Here it is (drum roll)...

A weekly letter, parcel, surprise to my kids. 

That didn't sound too exciting did it? It's kind of a family tradition that started with Betsy's and my Family News circa 1974 (which my dad has lovingly taken over long ago). Next was the weekly Sunday letter to China, which would arrive months later. Then I resurrected the Family News when my kids were young and I felt so far away in Buffalo. 

It's only been two weeks and so far so good. I think they enjoyed getting something via snail mail. Never mind I don't think Cal knows to check his mailbox on a regular basis; this new generation! They think everything comes electronically. And it practically does. Everything except love from your mama.

**Please note my sidebar and a new blog that has been added called Stories from Heliotrope U. This blog is written by my dad's old friend Loren. They shared an office in the WIU English Department many moons ago. He's a great guy, swell storyteller, and English master extraordinaire, so get out your dictionary and give him a read. 

Friday, August 11, 2017

The Rip Tide

There's a song called The Rip Tide by Beirut. It came up on a "mixed tape" Eli made me that I was listening to on my long trip (15 hours) from Gainesville to Louisville 8/7/17. Wow, it makes me weep. It has nothing to do with Adam really, except it was also on my Ipod when I walked the YMCA track almost every evening after Adam's death. It's haunting beauty ripped my heart out then and now. I have to admit after moving Eli and Hannah to Florida, it felt a little like another loss. Here are the lyrics:

And this is the house where I
I feel alone
Feel alone now
And this is the house where I
Could be unknown
Be alone now
Soon the waves and I found the rolling tide
Soon the waves and I found the rip tide
This is the house where I
I feel alone
Feel alone now
And this

It was funny for this song to come up after a day at the beach. Sunday I was body surfing the Atlantic waves, jumping and chasing bigger waves, drifting further down the beach, when suddenly I found I couldn't touch down anymore and was further out than I thought (nothing really dangerous my rational mind knew). I decided I should start swimming to shore, but didn't seem to be making any progress. Suddenly the thought came, "Could I be in a rip tide and not know it? in which case I should be swimming parallel to shore...No, that's ridiculous." But still, I had that moment of panic. 

This morning I sat out on my back stoop, a ritual I had in the aftermath of Adam's death, for the first time in a long time. The carpet beneath me was wet from last night's rain, and I didn't stay long. On the drive down to Florida I was emotional then realized it was 8/2/17, 18 months since my best boy ended his life. My special boy was moving to Florida to start his new life, and truly I am grateful and excited for this adventure. 

Yesterday I spoke at the morning Rotary group about the upcoming Out of the Darkness Walk and why it is important to me. Looking out I saw two fathers of boys that went to school with Adam. It is incredibly difficult for me to do this, but I am not going to let that stop me from shining the light on this topic.