Memorial Day

 Memorial Day has rather special meaning for me. My sister got married this weekend in 1990. I didn't quite know it at the time but my first marriage was breaking apart. In 1999, I had my last alcoholic beverage, May 31. I say it that way because I inadvertently ate a piece of liqueur candy in 2008 in Denmark, took a swig of an alcoholic beverage in Malta in 2017 that was labeled like a fruit drink, and intentionally, on the two year anniversary of my dad's death (February 19) took a sip of Cal's fancy drink, and a sip of Pat's Old Fashioned. It was a stand-in for my dad's favored Manhattan. I have to say, whatever Cal had was delicious but the Old Fashioned was terrible. I never liked the taste of whiskey. But I digress.

In 2013 I visited Adam in Springfield, after having breakfast with a friend. I know this because Facebook reminded me. My own memories are that we were planning to have a cook-out at Adam's apartment and he was going to introduce me to some friends. We were going to go shopping together for all the fixings. As it turned out a big storm came through Springfield, knocking down trees and soaking everything so we went out to dinner at the Chesapeake instead. Just the two of us. Less than 3 years later, he was gone. Now I visit him at Oakwood Cemetery. 

May 27, 2013 was special because Adam was opening to the idea of sharing the world he built in Springfield with me. I eventually ended up meeting his friends through the Out of the Darkness Walks in Springfield. 

Memorial Day weekend would be a time for family gatherings, the Vicks, the Deneckes, whomever could make it. It still is, with one big piece missing. There's some melancholy today, obviously, but I go on. 

Gun Violence

 

I think I made myself clear on Facebook that arming teachers is not the answer. Not mentioned as argument was that teachers are humans and susceptible to a bad day, a bad student (misbehaving), and eventually one would take the life of a student in their care, before they would ever be called to take out an active shooter.

Armed security guards at every school is not the answer. Robb Elementary had one. Didn't stop the shooter. Who wants our children greeted by an AK47 every morning, even if he/she is the "good guy" with a gun. 

Most people don't know there are more suicides per day, year, month than homicides. Over 50% of those are by firearm. I know because my son died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Reasonable gun laws would not have prevented his death. He didn't use an assault rifle, he didn't have a criminal record, and he didn't have a diagnosed mental illness, which by the way, 26% of the population has in any given year. It certainly doesn't mean they are dangerous or should have their guns taken away necessarily. If we start taking guns away for vague mental health reasons, some people won't seek mental health treatment. 

Can I just stick up for the educators and mental health workers for a minute? How many active shooters told their teacher or counselor they were going to shoot up a school, Walmart or Tops that day? Very few, if any, who did actually did it. Many more said it, that didn't.  I know that for a fact, because they are usually evaluated. There are judgment calls all the time, and you can't lock people up forever or without cause. Do we need more access to services? Yes, absolutely. It's way too hard to get help in this country. And way too easy to get guns. 

This morning while swimming, I heard a "pop." I don't know if it was my ear or what, but I cringed and thought of a bullet. Then I thought of all the kids who lived through mass shootings and will forever be terrified when they hear the "pop" of a firecracker or other benign source.

Are there rational solutions? Look at other countries. There are plenty of places safer than the U.S. of  A. I don't have the answers, but we need to do better. Clearly, I am not a fan of guns, and I hope I don't have to move to another country to feel at peace. Or maybe I do. 

Ox Yoke

 Last weekend when I was in Cedar Rapids, I decided to make a pilgrimage on my way home. I went West on I-80 instead of staying South on 218. I drove an extra 25 miles to visit the McDonald's we used to drop Adam off at to meet his dad or grandparents. 

All the way to Cedar Rapids the day before, I tossed memories around of driving Adam back and forth on this same route. The last time was in 2013. He had begun driving himself to Nebraska some years before, but this year he had taken our manual transmission Corolla, and the transmission went out just East of Des Moines. He had gotten the car towed and a hotel room for the night, and I drove up to get him the next day. I was on summer break from my school position. He was a little shook up from handling this adult problem, and no, I don't remember much about the ride home. I hope it was pleasant and that we had some nice mother-son time together. I'm thinking that was the time Eli, Cal, and I drove Adam back to Springfield, went to the White Oaks Mall, and walked down an embankment to eat lunch at Chipotle, my first time eating there. It took about a week for the mechanic at the Schoolhouse Garage (I'll never forget it) to fix the car, so Pat and I drove back the next weekend and picked it up. 

I digress.

When I got to the McDonald's at the Williamsburg exit, I remembered the grim feeling of sending him off to a life I wasn't part of, if only for a weekend or a week at a time. I broke down pulling into the parking lot, and walked in tear-streaked. I looked around the dining room for the memory of waiting with my little guy. It was unusually un-busy that day, while I remember it being an absolute zoo whenever we would go there. I used the restroom and left. 

Next I drove back East on 80 and pulled into the Amana Colonies exit, even though no restaurants were listed on the highway sign. Alas, the old Ox Yoke restaurant with it's fake Tudor styling, was closed, run-down, depressingly dilapidated. The Ox Yoke was the first meeting place where would we sit down and have a cup of terrible coffee and maybe something to eat: pie or a Reuben sandwich. Try to find something cheap to buy the kids from the tacky gift shop to shut them up. I snapped a few photos as I stared at old building. Guess I would not have my snack I was looking forward to. 

It felt good and right to take this journey honoring my first born. Was I sad? Yes. Was it worth it? Yes, the least I could do to bring Adam closer and let him know I am still thinking of him and remembering the gift that he was. 

P.S. After I went back to sleep after writing the above, I dreamed Adam came home. In the flesh. So real. He had a plausible explanation for why he disappeared, but didn't explain how he faked his death. I was so excited for his brothers and cousin to be surprised, but they kind of acted like he was never gone. He said he was clear now, had his "shit together" and was getting a good job. He was heavier and sweeter and it was the best feeling. It felt like, "Thank god you're finally here."