four kittens = much delight

i've been listening to the kind of podcasts that i wouldn't normally listen to - mostly because the ones i normally listen to do a lot of talking about trump and his posse of trumpanzees, and frankly, i'm over that. so i listened to some back catalog stuff from oprah's super soul podcast (the alanis morissette episode) and also the bittersweet life (start with micro and quite possibly also stop there). my mind is buzzing with ideas of things to write about, but it's quite late and while that doesn't matter so much since i'm taking the day off tomorrow, i need to let them gel until morning. but suffice it to say, i'm looking forward to writing some micro memoir pieces (as if this blog isn't already full of those), and to spending tomorrow with the kittens you see above. they were born on may 2 and they're just about to hit peak cute.

remembering dad: in my sister's words

i wanted to share some words of gratitude and a bit of remembrance that my sister wrote to the people of our little hometown for their kindness after dad died (complete with capital letters and everything):

Each year, a small bank in Eastern Iowa runs a holiday spending campaign around which they’ve developed a nice logo. It’s called the “Shop Local” campaign and that is a theme I’ve heard from my father for my whole life. I see that logo and while the concept warms my heart, but I can’t help but feel annoyed by Hills Bank for the grammar error. “Shop” is a verb and it needs an adverb descriptor. You know your adverbs often end in “ly” because you watched those Saturday morning Schoolhouse Rock videos. It should be the “Shop Locally” campaign, but I digress.

Hills Bank points out that each dollar spent in your hometown stays in your hometown a few more times before leaving. But each dollar spent elsewhere is gone forever. It’s easy for me to overlook the significance of this while living in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, we’re near the intersection of  two Interstates and money probably moves around pretty easily. But when you imagine the consequences of those dollars leaving Platte forever, you can’t deny the significance of that for your local business owners, your friends and neighbors.

I might have chosen a more glamorous way for him to go. But Dad perceived himself as healthy and able to the very end. And while shocking for us, it’s good for him. No lingering or withering away. He had a life well-lived and it’s surely best that he never had to deal with the word “leukemia.”

My heart is full of love and gratitude for you fine people of Platte. When we phoned from McKennan Hospital in Sioux Falls to say that it was time to say “goodbye” to Ralph, you walked into his room two and a half hours later. When we threw a party to tell stories about Ralph, you filled that clubhouse with laughter and gave generously to the donation jar.

Dad’s service featured flowers with garden vegetables and a brilliant hand of poker cards. A wonderful young trumpet player gave us his remarkable rendering of Taps. The Presbyterian ladies brought Dad’s favorite pecan pie and folks lingered afterward and then they went on with the business of the day. I think Dad might have approved of the whole thing, and trust me, gaining his approval was no easy task.

Mom has extraordinary friends looking out for her. Cards and long letters have come in from far and wide because my father seemed to make a lasting impression on the people he encountered.

I’ve always been proud of the clean streets, storefronts and yards and back yards in Platte. There are young entrepreneurs in Platte and folks who know how to get things done. And you’re raising money to build new community attractions. This is not a community in decline, it’s a thriving and vibrant place.

The Platte Avera Health Center was near and dear to my father’s heart. Please remember to donate to the hospital in his name. Maintaining that hospital is good for your family and generations to come.
When you’re finishing up your Christmas shopping this year and next, cancel that trip to Mitchell or Sioux Falls and look for the things you need in Platte. Do this and think of the dollars that stay at home and benefit your friends and neighbors. Do this and think of my dad. He’s somewhere smiling on you.

And from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your love and support.

a submariner's personality

an old friend of dad's wrote a wonderful column about him and i had to share it. there were a couple of stories in here that i'd never heard before. they really made me laugh. it's so interesting to see my dad through the eyes of others. i think it's very hard for us to do that as children, we have one perspective on our parents and while it can be complex and multi-faceted, it's completely unlike the perspectives of friends and others in the community. it's sad that it took his death for me to get this new perspective, but i'm also grateful to have it. good that so many of dad's friends were awesome writers.

condolences...or lack thereof

why do we have such a hard time talking about death? why all the euphemisms? passed away. passed on. why is it so hard to say someone has died? is it because it seems so harsh. so final. so cruel somehow. it seems that people just don't know what to say about it, so they try to package it inside more delicate words, like it will make it better that you don't have a father anymore. but it doesn't. and while you dread the next condolences, you also feel it acutely when they're not there from people who probably should say something to you, if only as a formality because it's the first time they've seen you since it happened. and then it's kind of worse if they go on and on about two recent funerals they attended, without even acknowledging that you've had one yourself. one to which you flew across an ocean to another country. that's just weird. and it hurts more than you would think. you're even a little surprised yourself how callous and hurtful it seemed, even tho' you realize it probably wasn't meant that way.

but then there are those who have precisely the right words for you. warm words about how happy they were to have had the chance to meet him and how much they enjoyed that. and others who just hug you and ask the right questions. and that makes it ok. or as ok as it can be.

but you do wonder if it will ever really be ok.

and you also wonder why a picture of a church seemed right with this post when you're not even remotely religious. but church buildings provide the frame for the ceremonies of life...baptisms, weddings and funerals. and maybe there is something to that.

he was really something

i'm afraid i have to go on a bit more about my dad. it's just how it is right now.

this week there was a very well-written piece about my dad in the mitchell daily republic.

alas, after a few days where it was open, they've put the bulk of it behind the firewall,
but here's a capture of it:

he was really something. they don't really make them like that anymore.

sorrow hangs in the air

faded colors.
a bit tired.
once festive.
leaky roof.
past its prime.

laughter fills the air.

good fun among friends.

everyone knows everyone.

everyone knows me.

tho' i don't necessarily remember them.

such are the ways of the small town.

sorrow in the air.

or maybe it's just hanging over me.

perhaps these are the right surroundings.

a bit nostalgic.

faded.

with a bit of color left.

and light pouring in.

and a few stains on the ceiling.

bruised.

battered.

but still there.

despite it all.

still finding a way.

to laugh.

to remember forgotten lines.

to stumble through.

and keep smiling.

even as sorrow hangs in the air.

ruffling the fringe of the crepe paper.

carried by light.

floating in the breeze.

hanging there.

waiting.

for tears to come.

mortality bites

20 years ago, drinking tea on a russian train.

today should have been dad's 81st birthday. i think some part of me still can't believe he's gone. i thought several times, i have to call and wish him happy birthday. i mentally calculated the time and then i realized he wouldn't be there on the other end. it's so strange that he's gone. he's just been there for 47 years. and although i was rubbish at calling or emailing often enough, i just knew he was there if i needed to ask him something or tell him a story. it's still so strange that he's not there anymore. i wonder if i'll ever get used to it?

i almost made a german chocolate cake (his favorite) in his honor today, but in the end, i didn't, because it feels too raw and i think it would have hurt more than it helped. and on this rainy, dreary, dark grey day, i didn't need more darkness. so i'm trying to think of the good times, like here, drinking tea on the train from moscow to kazan when dad came to visit me in russia in 1994. that was an awesome trip. we laughed and had adventures and tho' there was bickering at the end of the day because everyone's feet were tired from traipsing all over moscow, it was really pretty much only awesome. i'm glad to have the comfort of that and many other memories.

but i miss you today, dad. happy should-have-been birthday.

processing. processing. processing.

my eyes have changed. it seems like it happened suddenly. i've been wiping off my glasses all day, thinking it was because they were all foggy. but i think it's because my eyes have made a sudden change. i wonder if it means i have ebola?

kidding.

that's not one of the symptoms.

and it's also not what i had intended to write about.

i'm winding down my trip. one more day in the office, then back to nyc tomorrow evening and a last few hours there before i fly home. it's been an awesome trip. i've met so many new people, gotten together with old friends (some for the first time in person, even tho' they felt like we'd been friends for years, which, i guess, we had), and made new friends.

as amy wrote earlier today, she's still processing. and so am i.

i've eaten everything from oysters and foie gras pops to dill pickle sunflower seeds (way yummier than you might think). i've laughed until tears streamed down my face (seriously, google monsignor meth and you will too). i've walked until my feet weren't speaking to me. and i've seen everything from firetrucks attempting to speed down manhattan streets to spiderman strolling across times square to some odd, large, unattended canisters of liquid nitrogen on a curbside. i photographed the original starbucks and the apple store in grand central. we danced until the wee hours in an irish bar across from penn station, singing at the top of our lungs to 90s songs (by the way, cyndy knows all the words). i had an amazing scent experience at MiN, thanks to my sister. i've taken a bunch of photos in a museum (even tho' you probably shouldn't do that). i've corresponded with the child, who is in london at the moment on a school trip (she's 13 and has big business plans). i've been frightened by american television (good morning america, 19 and counting, the political ads...). and i've enjoyed a real, thick, beautiful sunday new york times. in new york.

suffice it to say, it's a lot to take in. a lot to process. so i'll be back with more soon...

london calling

a few blissful days in london. part work, part play. all wonderful. meeting old friends. and new ones. seeing the sights. taking in the crowds and the noise. going to museums. eating new and interesting food. trying on clothes. drinking loads of starbucks. battling the heat. and ducking rain showers (in the gap, of course). tracking down bathrooms (after all that coffee). it was a full (almost) week.

landing from travels, even if they're only a time zone away and a short hour-long flight, always takes time. processing. finding your feet again at home. settling into the old rhythms after the disruption of another place. but disruption is good and healthy and shakes you from your complacency. it gives you a different view of the world. makes you appreciate home a little bit more. and tho' there are mountains of laundry to do, i'd rather just sit for a little while with a cat in my lap and absorb it all. i really did miss those cats.

on an even keel

i have had the best possible start to my new job. it's a great company. i'm surrounded by creative, motivated people and i have a great boss. there are moments of actual playing nearly every day. and i am surrounded by sources of inspiration. i have been given time and support to read and learn and absorb the information i need to be able to do my job. it is absolutely as you would hope your job would be in every way.

it makes me tired in a different way than i've been tired in a long time. and it also makes me awake and engaged in a way i hadn't been in a long time. the kind of projects i've worked on in recent years have been quite solitary. i find it both energizing and tiring to be around a lot of new people. trying to feel centered in the midst of these often conflicting feelings is an exercise in balance. and i'm not always equally good at it. today, i'm on a kind of high. awake and feeling like it will be hours before i sleep, just like my old patterns (i've been a night owl for some time). other days, i come home and want to go to sleep early because my brain is full and my instinct is to go to sleep and dream to process it all. the brain is wonderful that way. and this evening, it apparently thinks it's best that i stay up and write about it (my usual mode of processing). i've learned that i need to go with it, whichever mode my instincts choose, somehow they know best.

if we listen to ourselves, we do know, at our core, how to stay on an even keel. it's just a matter of tuning in.

a laundry list of impressions from tedx copenhagen

my head is spinning and i'm still processing the whole TEDx Copenhagen experience, so this is just a quick post to check in and make a little list of all the things i want to remember to tell you about. most important is that a tweet i tweeted during the event has quite likely landed me a radio spot tomorrow, giving advice about denmark to the new us ambassador. yup, it was that kind of day.

but don't let me forget to tell you about:

~ live musicians in the bathroom
~ the homeless guy who helped himself to some of our lunch
~ a lovely, charming young girl who invented a molecule at the age of 16
~ the crazy, bossy coffee lady
~ the lack of swag
~ how the two hosts had obviously recently broken up and couldn't stand one another
~ the human arabesque video
~ now, new, next
~ pretentious anti-everything poseurs
~ an annoying irish woman to whom i lost a competition i didn't know i had entered
~ be my eyes, an app that will let you volunteer from your couch
~ the really weird outfit the copenhagen fashion week woman was wearing
~ changing the straight world order
~ a pretentious young brit who was fighting a battle against the so-called mainstream media without knowing what their agenda was or who/what might be behind it
~ why they played 5 TED videos i could have watched at home
~ the filter project
~ why we are biologically inclined to avoid being reflective for too long
~ surprises and disappointments

but i need to process it all first, it's still tumbling around my head.

for now, i leave you with a youtube video i managed to find of kalle's world tour, a most amazing musician who may have been the highlight of TEDxCPH for me today. this will just give you a taste, but today, he combined death metal and children's music and it was awesome:

my happy place

still processing the whole christmas experience (and not really done cooking yet), so in the meantime, some shots of one of my favorite places in the world - møn's klint. when we got to the bottom of all those steps and onto that stone beach, my molecules hummed in perfect alignment. more soon.