So if any of you have followed my blogs, either recently or for the long haul, you know at least two things about me - I like to ride my bicycle (yes, the anthem of Queen should be resounding in all of your heads right now), and I Hate Cancer! Today I had the chance to combine both of these "passions".
You see, I received word from my sister Tamara today that our Aunt Janice died on Saturday. We knew she was sick and she was too sick to make it to David's memorial but we didn't know how sick. Now we know and to tell you the truth, it just pisses me off.
You know how in your life there are little things, little moments in time that solidify certain times of your life. All you have to do is think of them and you know where you were and mental images just pop into life. I do that all the time. All I have to do is think of a certain time in my life and the mental images just come up. I have a lot of those images in my head from my Aunt Janice. During a very developmental time of my life I spent the better part of three summers with her - the summers after I turned 8, 9 and 10. One of the biggest memories I have of her is how patient and gentle she was with me when I needed my stitches out.
I wasn't really a big cry baby but I was known for getting into things. Usually taking them apart and then my dad would have to put them back together again. Well, one May while on a fishing trip with him I decided to make a bow and some arrows out of sticks I found around and some fishing line. While notching the arrows so the string would fit the stick split and the knife ended up slicing my thumb down the middle lengthwise and cut down to the bone. A crazy, mad rush to an out of the way hospital later I was stitched up and the inside of my dad's pickup truck had a lot of my blood in it (good thing I didn't disappear, but this was way before CSI)! Well, the stitches were unique (at least for me who had been stitched up many times before - I was an "adventurous" kid) in tha they went right through my thumbnail - ouch!
Anyway, when I got to my Aunt Janice's house for the summer the stitches needed to be taken out. I remember so well how gentle she was and how patient she was with getting those stitches out. Even though her own children were very small at the time she was so good at it that I barely felt anything. I spent the rest of that summer and the next going between her and my Grandma Connor's house but my times with her (and running amok with the neighborhood kids) was exactly what I needed for the summer. During a very developmental part of my life, she provided a chance for me to have summers with a certain kind of nurturing that I really needed. She even sent me to Bible Camp - but that's a story for another time. Unfortunately, due to some tricky family dynamics and issues I drifted out of touch with Aunt Janice and the summer of my tenth year was the last time I saw or heard from her.
Yet today the memory of the stitches and of those summers came flooding back as I rode and pushed myself up the hills - I searched out each one that I could and attacked it like I was attacking this hateful disease that has touched my family yet again! I just wanted to pound something and just keep attacking it. And as I was attacking I had another cathartic moment, one that was equal parts emotional catharsis and mental/spiritual epiphany. In my ride I resolved one thing for certain - my cross country ride HAS to happen next summer! I need to do something MORE to help all the others that are fighting this disease - especially the kids who have done nothing but try to grow up and be kids. They deserve the same kind of summers I had - the chance to run around with friends, play games, swim and just have fun.
So as I finished up my 30 mile slug fest with cancer, before I went home I stopped by Adams Cyclery and spoke to Chuck about what kind of bike I would need for the cross country journey. I was still pissed and hurt and close to tears but Chuck was great and supportive and after talking a bit we decided that a cyclocross bike with rack mounts would be the best for my needs. A good, light aluminum frame (no crabon for me!) with a compact front crank to handle the mountains. Since Adams Cyclery is one of my sponsors he said he could help me get a 2009 model (which is vastly cheaper than the 2010s) and I can do it on lay away (wow, people actually still do that). Unfortunately, with finances being what they are now I can't even afford the down payment, much less the $1400 for the whole bike, argh! I keep hoping I can find a way though. So, if anyone out there sees any leprechauns (and catches one) or wins the lottery and wants to share the winnings, (or if any bike companies out there are reading this and want to throw a good quality cyclocross bike my way, lol) its a Trek CX-01 and I'll put you down as a sponsor!
But no matter what - Cancer continues to piss me off as it keeps insiduously sneaking up on little cat feet and touching my family. I hate it and I would love nothing better to help eradicate it in our lifetime. For now I'll do what I can for those youngest members who are fighting it - but next summer Cancer better watch out!
Stay well my friends and I'll see you on the road.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
To All of Those I've Taught Before
So in 1984 singers Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson recorded a duet entitled "To All the Girls I've Loved Before" (see it here at http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=8228835) and it ended up being the number one country hit and became Iglesias' signature English language song. I remember thinking at the time "Julio I can understand, but Willie? How many can that be? Five or six?" Yeah, I know he was a hard-living country star so it was probably hundreds but still, you had to just look at him next to Julio to think, "huh?"
Well, that song has been going through my head as I have been dealing with David's passing. I really didn't broadcast it so much at the beginning, I just wrote about it here on my blog but I've been finding myself responding to dozens of e-mails, texts, and facebook postings wishing me well and offering their condolences. It has been uplifting, wondrous, humbling and a blessing all at the same time. I truly am at a loss to explain it all. I won't embarass anyone by quoting them but I honestly can't understand it.
I'm getting e-mails and messages telling me how much I changed their lives and how much they still think of me and how much they are praying for me or are willing to listen to me if I need to talk. To be honest, I'm not sure how I've inspired so much in all of you. I've just tried to be the best dance/drama teacher I can be. I haven't always succeeded and there have been times when I really feel that I've let you down. However, all of the love and support you have been giving to me in the last few days have really made me more determined to be a better teacher to all of you. You have all changed me (for good - okay, couldn't resist the Wicked reference) now and forever. All I have tried to be is a good teacher to you all and you have now taught me what it means to make a difference, for you have truly made a difference in my life when I desperately needed it.
My father (who I think is the best teacher ever) was my inspiration for what it means to be a craftsman. As a career military man he wasn't ever going to get rich doing his job or get publicity or any other particular accolades. But he was good at his job and he was the consummate professional. He taught me that doing a job well and being able to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day and know that you did your best is all the reward you can expect and that should be enough. It's not self-deprecating or defeatist - its just the reality that you can't expect the praise of others. You have to do your best at whatever you do for the intrinsic satisfaction of knowing you tried your best. I've tried to follow his example. Sometimes I get it right and sometimes I don't but I keep trying.
However, you my students - all that I have taught before, am teaching now and those I may teach in the future have given me the greatest gift a teacher could ever receive - the knowledge that I have made a difference in you life. For that I am eternally grateful to you all, to you "All the Ones I've Taught Before".
Stay well my friends, I'll see you on the road.
Well, that song has been going through my head as I have been dealing with David's passing. I really didn't broadcast it so much at the beginning, I just wrote about it here on my blog but I've been finding myself responding to dozens of e-mails, texts, and facebook postings wishing me well and offering their condolences. It has been uplifting, wondrous, humbling and a blessing all at the same time. I truly am at a loss to explain it all. I won't embarass anyone by quoting them but I honestly can't understand it.
I'm getting e-mails and messages telling me how much I changed their lives and how much they still think of me and how much they are praying for me or are willing to listen to me if I need to talk. To be honest, I'm not sure how I've inspired so much in all of you. I've just tried to be the best dance/drama teacher I can be. I haven't always succeeded and there have been times when I really feel that I've let you down. However, all of the love and support you have been giving to me in the last few days have really made me more determined to be a better teacher to all of you. You have all changed me (for good - okay, couldn't resist the Wicked reference) now and forever. All I have tried to be is a good teacher to you all and you have now taught me what it means to make a difference, for you have truly made a difference in my life when I desperately needed it.
My father (who I think is the best teacher ever) was my inspiration for what it means to be a craftsman. As a career military man he wasn't ever going to get rich doing his job or get publicity or any other particular accolades. But he was good at his job and he was the consummate professional. He taught me that doing a job well and being able to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day and know that you did your best is all the reward you can expect and that should be enough. It's not self-deprecating or defeatist - its just the reality that you can't expect the praise of others. You have to do your best at whatever you do for the intrinsic satisfaction of knowing you tried your best. I've tried to follow his example. Sometimes I get it right and sometimes I don't but I keep trying.
However, you my students - all that I have taught before, am teaching now and those I may teach in the future have given me the greatest gift a teacher could ever receive - the knowledge that I have made a difference in you life. For that I am eternally grateful to you all, to you "All the Ones I've Taught Before".
Stay well my friends, I'll see you on the road.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Back in the Pack
So yesterday I "spoke" to you all about my venturing forth with the AA group of the Huntington Bicycle Club for the first time in a year. I truly expected to get totally spanked, chewed up and spit out the back of the pack to limp my lonely way homeward. At least I would know the area so I wouldn't be totally lost. I mean from all the e-mails that have been going on within the group about not stopping for dropped riders and a AA designation assumes a certain amount of fitness I figured I would be doing well to hold on for the first 15 miles. It really wouldn't be a matter of IF I would be dropped, it was a matter of WHEN and/or HOW OFTEN.
I figured that since the ride was obstensibly going to Asharoken it might pass close enough to Northport that if I were dropped I could just limp home without having to go the Smith St. lot and face the humiliation of getting there 30 minutes after everyone else. Anyway, that was my state of mind. So I rode to the start instead of driving there so I could just head straight for home at any time.
The ride began with about sixteen riders some of whom I recognized (Paul, Don, Jesus, Adam and a few others whose faces I remember but not their names) but mostly people I didn't know. I checked out their bikes and felt myself feeling inadequate and envious at the same time. Of course, I looked over at Paul's bike and was reminded that here is a rider that doesn't have the most current carbon (or "crabon" as the Bike Snob calls it) ride or componentry and yet he's always in the front group. Of course, Paul is also about 20 pounds lighter than me. However, I did look over the apparent physical shape of the riders (I say "apparent" because it was cold and we were all bundled up which does hide a lot), I guess its an old dancer audition habit - you know, sizing up the competition, and I thought to myself, "there are a few guys who I think I can hang with so it might not be too bad after all".
Well, the ride began a little inaspiciously with the fact that one of the riders forgot his helmet and he got a ride with someone else to go pick up a spare. That delayed us for a little while but we finally were able to get rolling. We finally got on a pretty good straight away and we were cruising along in a nice pace line when someone flatted. That gave us some time to breathe but I think it frustrated some of the more hardcore riders becuase we took off again and the pace upped a bit. Surprisingly enough, I was able to hold on and I stayed smack in the middle of the pack. It did help that we were on familiar roads so I knew what to expect. Most of the rides we were on today I've been on at least once or twice so I knew where the hills were and I knew what it would take to power up the hills. That was lesson number 1 - knowing your route can help you in your strategy to stay with the pack! I didn't have to rely on keeping up if I knew when the next hill would come up.
I got a little behind on one of the climbs but managed to stay in the middle of the group. Out of sixteen riders I was pretty consistently staying in the ninth or tenth wheel so it I always knew there were at least six more guys behind me! As I wrote yesterday, it also helped that I had a lot of anger to get rid of - every hill was another opportunity to release some of the anger that has been building up since Thursday. And boy did I release.
Anyway, as I was releasing some of this anger going up Hammond (a really steep hill in King's Park) and finding myself in the front third of climbers (of course not up near Jesus and the crew but still respectable) I heard a loud "pop" and the guy who had been climbing just behind and to my left just stopped - his chain had snapped. We called ahead to some of the "hammers" and they (after much shouting on our parts) stopped. A few of us had chain tools with us and we were going to help him repair it but he had also broken a carbon spoke - he was out! So we made sure he had someone to call, regrouped and went on.
We continued on through King's Park and at one point I was on the wheel of Paul (my cycling mentor - whether he knows it or not) hanging in no man's land between the pack adn a break away group of six in the front. Suddenly this guy attacks from the pack to bridge up to the front group passing Paul and I. I was feeling strong so I latched onto his wheel and we bridged up to the front group. I just wanted to see if I could hang on - and I could!!!! It felt great in my current out of shapeness to be able to counter an attack like that. I knew I would suffer for it later but at the moment it felt great. We then continued through King's Park - up the long slope of 25A and again I felt strong.
This is where it went wrong. Three riders peeled off at Pulaski to head back and I was sorely tempted to join them but I thought I would try to hang on a little bit longer. It was too bad because these three were three that I thought I would have been able to hang with to Asharoken. Anyway, to make it short, I was too cocky and pushed too hard and after going through King's Park village I started to lose contact with the pack. I was in the back slowly getting blown off the back. I didn't panic though, as long as I could see them I knew I could eventually catch back up since I knew there were hills coming up where I could make up some time. Finally, after a longish straight descent I was able to catch back up to them - just in time for the rest stop - ah, the irony.
After a break we all hopped back on to head to Asharoken - here's where I figured I would lose it and have to limp home. We had a great pace line going at one point and I sat in the middle of the pack clocking 26+ mph for about a mile. Then we realized we had taken a wrong turn and how to regroup, turn around and do it all over again. This is where the bad luck hit again (it always comes in threes, right?) when Doug (one of those I had hoped I could hang with at the back and compete for the Lantern Rouge spot) broke his chain as well! At this point the hammers decided not to wait and just peeled off and headed towards Northport and what we assumed was a more "challenging" ride. The five of us that were left (Doug said he would fix the chain and join us later) headed out to Asharoken. We again formed a pace line across the Eaton's Neck causeway and really got cooking - it was great!!!!!!!
We turned around in Asharoken and headed back only to be found by Doug so he latched on and we started to try a TTT. Eveyone took their share of pulling at the front even though there was a considerable headwind hitting us. I even pulled for a good long time at 19mph! Yeah, its not much but in a headwind it was great.
I really thought I'd completely blow up on the hill out of Eaton's Neck but I didn't - I hung on and made it up as third wheel - right in the middle of the group which is where I'd been 95% of the time on this ride. At this point I told Adam (the ride leader) that I was going to peel off and head for home since once we got to the intersection I'd be three houses away from my front door. He suggested I join them in their final suffering of the ride - going up Scudder. So I said OK - what the heck, I could still limp home easily.
As we hit the base of Scudder I was in the front and I never lost it - I just followed all the advice of all the articles I'd been reading and just spun at a fast tempo the whole way. Granted, I wasn't going fast but I managed to be the first wheel at the top (although Adam got within half a wheel length at one point) - but I think Adam just gave me a gift and let me get up first.
As I peeled off Paul, Adam, Doug and the others left called out "See ya next week!" I truly wish that was so but I'm heading to South Jersey to FINALLY meet my niece Anika!
So, what did I learn? I learned that if I push myself I can still ride with the big boys. I might get dropped but that's how I learn how to ride. I learned that I can make no more excuses - I have to ride to work whenever I can and take the hills whenever I can. I learned that even out of shape and with a non-carbon bike I can still power up (almost) as fast as the others - get in shape (i.e., drop five to ten pounds) and get a few lighter components and I'm there!
But in particular, in the last few rides I learned that cycling can be extremely cathartic to me and compared to the suffering others are going through (especially those with cancer) what I do on the bike is nothing comparatively and I need to suck it up and keep pushing. It's the least I can do to try to support these kids at Sunrise and the others that are going through the pain and struggle of fighting cancer.
I figured that since the ride was obstensibly going to Asharoken it might pass close enough to Northport that if I were dropped I could just limp home without having to go the Smith St. lot and face the humiliation of getting there 30 minutes after everyone else. Anyway, that was my state of mind. So I rode to the start instead of driving there so I could just head straight for home at any time.
The ride began with about sixteen riders some of whom I recognized (Paul, Don, Jesus, Adam and a few others whose faces I remember but not their names) but mostly people I didn't know. I checked out their bikes and felt myself feeling inadequate and envious at the same time. Of course, I looked over at Paul's bike and was reminded that here is a rider that doesn't have the most current carbon (or "crabon" as the Bike Snob calls it) ride or componentry and yet he's always in the front group. Of course, Paul is also about 20 pounds lighter than me. However, I did look over the apparent physical shape of the riders (I say "apparent" because it was cold and we were all bundled up which does hide a lot), I guess its an old dancer audition habit - you know, sizing up the competition, and I thought to myself, "there are a few guys who I think I can hang with so it might not be too bad after all".
Well, the ride began a little inaspiciously with the fact that one of the riders forgot his helmet and he got a ride with someone else to go pick up a spare. That delayed us for a little while but we finally were able to get rolling. We finally got on a pretty good straight away and we were cruising along in a nice pace line when someone flatted. That gave us some time to breathe but I think it frustrated some of the more hardcore riders becuase we took off again and the pace upped a bit. Surprisingly enough, I was able to hold on and I stayed smack in the middle of the pack. It did help that we were on familiar roads so I knew what to expect. Most of the rides we were on today I've been on at least once or twice so I knew where the hills were and I knew what it would take to power up the hills. That was lesson number 1 - knowing your route can help you in your strategy to stay with the pack! I didn't have to rely on keeping up if I knew when the next hill would come up.
I got a little behind on one of the climbs but managed to stay in the middle of the group. Out of sixteen riders I was pretty consistently staying in the ninth or tenth wheel so it I always knew there were at least six more guys behind me! As I wrote yesterday, it also helped that I had a lot of anger to get rid of - every hill was another opportunity to release some of the anger that has been building up since Thursday. And boy did I release.
Anyway, as I was releasing some of this anger going up Hammond (a really steep hill in King's Park) and finding myself in the front third of climbers (of course not up near Jesus and the crew but still respectable) I heard a loud "pop" and the guy who had been climbing just behind and to my left just stopped - his chain had snapped. We called ahead to some of the "hammers" and they (after much shouting on our parts) stopped. A few of us had chain tools with us and we were going to help him repair it but he had also broken a carbon spoke - he was out! So we made sure he had someone to call, regrouped and went on.
We continued on through King's Park and at one point I was on the wheel of Paul (my cycling mentor - whether he knows it or not) hanging in no man's land between the pack adn a break away group of six in the front. Suddenly this guy attacks from the pack to bridge up to the front group passing Paul and I. I was feeling strong so I latched onto his wheel and we bridged up to the front group. I just wanted to see if I could hang on - and I could!!!! It felt great in my current out of shapeness to be able to counter an attack like that. I knew I would suffer for it later but at the moment it felt great. We then continued through King's Park - up the long slope of 25A and again I felt strong.
This is where it went wrong. Three riders peeled off at Pulaski to head back and I was sorely tempted to join them but I thought I would try to hang on a little bit longer. It was too bad because these three were three that I thought I would have been able to hang with to Asharoken. Anyway, to make it short, I was too cocky and pushed too hard and after going through King's Park village I started to lose contact with the pack. I was in the back slowly getting blown off the back. I didn't panic though, as long as I could see them I knew I could eventually catch back up since I knew there were hills coming up where I could make up some time. Finally, after a longish straight descent I was able to catch back up to them - just in time for the rest stop - ah, the irony.
After a break we all hopped back on to head to Asharoken - here's where I figured I would lose it and have to limp home. We had a great pace line going at one point and I sat in the middle of the pack clocking 26+ mph for about a mile. Then we realized we had taken a wrong turn and how to regroup, turn around and do it all over again. This is where the bad luck hit again (it always comes in threes, right?) when Doug (one of those I had hoped I could hang with at the back and compete for the Lantern Rouge spot) broke his chain as well! At this point the hammers decided not to wait and just peeled off and headed towards Northport and what we assumed was a more "challenging" ride. The five of us that were left (Doug said he would fix the chain and join us later) headed out to Asharoken. We again formed a pace line across the Eaton's Neck causeway and really got cooking - it was great!!!!!!!
We turned around in Asharoken and headed back only to be found by Doug so he latched on and we started to try a TTT. Eveyone took their share of pulling at the front even though there was a considerable headwind hitting us. I even pulled for a good long time at 19mph! Yeah, its not much but in a headwind it was great.
I really thought I'd completely blow up on the hill out of Eaton's Neck but I didn't - I hung on and made it up as third wheel - right in the middle of the group which is where I'd been 95% of the time on this ride. At this point I told Adam (the ride leader) that I was going to peel off and head for home since once we got to the intersection I'd be three houses away from my front door. He suggested I join them in their final suffering of the ride - going up Scudder. So I said OK - what the heck, I could still limp home easily.
As we hit the base of Scudder I was in the front and I never lost it - I just followed all the advice of all the articles I'd been reading and just spun at a fast tempo the whole way. Granted, I wasn't going fast but I managed to be the first wheel at the top (although Adam got within half a wheel length at one point) - but I think Adam just gave me a gift and let me get up first.
As I peeled off Paul, Adam, Doug and the others left called out "See ya next week!" I truly wish that was so but I'm heading to South Jersey to FINALLY meet my niece Anika!
So, what did I learn? I learned that if I push myself I can still ride with the big boys. I might get dropped but that's how I learn how to ride. I learned that I can make no more excuses - I have to ride to work whenever I can and take the hills whenever I can. I learned that even out of shape and with a non-carbon bike I can still power up (almost) as fast as the others - get in shape (i.e., drop five to ten pounds) and get a few lighter components and I'm there!
But in particular, in the last few rides I learned that cycling can be extremely cathartic to me and compared to the suffering others are going through (especially those with cancer) what I do on the bike is nothing comparatively and I need to suck it up and keep pushing. It's the least I can do to try to support these kids at Sunrise and the others that are going through the pain and struggle of fighting cancer.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
All over the map ... and Catharsis, part 2
Today was a day of ups and downs and emotionally all over the map. But before I get into the emotional roller coaster that was today there's a few things I'd like to share.
First, when I started writing this blog I thought of it only as a way to share my day to day (okay, it ended up not being day to day but the thought was there) experiences as I followed my year long goal to commute 2,000 miles. I never thought anyone read it aside from my editor-in-chief (otherwise known as my patient, loving, supportive wife Amy) and myself. Occasionally someone would e-mail me to tell me about something they read on it but I always figured it was a fluke (despite the fact there is a link to my blog on our website). I guess I never thought anyone would be interested in my metaphysical musings. So imagine my surprise to find out that there are people who actually read what I write - sometimes on a daily basis. To those of you I say thank you and I'll try to actually keept that in mind as I create posts in the future. I'll at least try to make what I write a little more scintillating.
Secondly, I have found out that there are people who actually read my blog becuase of the amazing outpouring of support I have been getting from friends, former students, current students, family and in once instance a total stranger. Some of them have mentioned to me how they find out from reading my blog and have mentioned some of the things I wrote. To each and every one of you - thank you. Your love and support in this time of emotional upheaval has been an overwhelming source of support for me. There is a poem entitled "Bits and Pieces" (I wish I had all the words here but they are all at school) that describes how we are all made up of bits and pieces of the people who have touched our lives and come into contact with us - both positive and negative. So if we follow the logic of this poem, David is an intrinsic part of me and your prayers and condolences to me are therefore going straight to David as well. So on behalf of us both, I again thank you so much for everything you have sent to me in the last few days.
And now the moment of Catharsis, part 2. Yesterday was David's memorial and I couldn't be there. In this time of financial difficulty I just couldn't get there. Instead, I went out for a ride with my local bike club group. I know on Friday I went riding just to get things out of my system and it took me until the Lawrence Hill climb until I finally exhausted myself to the point that the tears flowed down my cheeks. They came on and off the rest of the way home but I was finally able to break out of the numbness I had been feeling since I got the news.
One of the few things I remember from my college psychology classes and sociology classes is that when someone is grieving their are seven distinct stages that they need to experience before they have fully gone through the process of grieving and loss. Most of Thursday I was dealing with the first stage of shock and denial. Friday's ride took me through a lot of the second stage, dealing with the pain and guilt. I'm still dealing with both of these stages. Mostly I'm dealing with the guilt of not having been in better contact with him the last few years. A lot of what has been going through my head the last few days is the feeling that I let my little brother down by not being in more contact with him. I've never been very good at keeping in touch with people which is why this blog is becoming more important to me. At least there are some of you who I'm keeping in touch with. I don't want this to become too deep of an introspective blog but it is what I've been going through right now and its important for me to get it out - for those of you who have read this far, thank you for your patience and your support.
Anyway, today I rode because I just needed to get my mind off the fact that I couldn't be at David's memorial. My inability to be there was just adding to the guilt I've been feeling so I began the ride by riding from my house to Greenlawn.I won't go into all the details of the ride (I'll save that for tomorrow's post) but I will say that I was able to climb quite a few of the big hills becuase of anger. Every time I started to climb I would think of David and the unfairness of his death would hit me and nothing felt as good as it did to just mash the pedals all the way to the top. I just needed to get it out. The ride was mostly a great experience for me on so many levels (again, I'll write about that tomorrow, today's just not the day for joy) but mostly for the catharsis of being able to find something that really brought forth the anger and allowed me to channel it in a positive way. My family has been so supportive and I'm trying (not always successfully) to keep my anger from creeping out at them. Mostly I've been good at it but every now and then that anger just pops out.
I think David would have been appreciative of the fact that I spent the day doing something I love doing. I don't think he would ever understand why grown men would want to put on spandex, shave their legs and careen down hills at 45 miles an hour (honestly, I'm not sure many of my friends and family understand it) but I think he would appreciate that I was doing something that brought me joy.
I spoke to Tamara later in the day and she told me Markus read my words to David (check yesterday's blog entry) and that during the service the rain subsided just enough for the military honor guard to go outside and give David a 21-gun salute and play taps. Then the rain started up again. Late today that same rain hit us - at least I was able to share that part of the memorial with everyone.
I don't know how long it will take me to get through the next stages - I really hope I can get past this angry stage before I cause strife with the family - but I know that I have a lot of very supportive family, friends and students (both present and former) that are sending me positive thoughts, prayers and words. To all of you I thank you for being a part of my life.
Stay well and I'll see you on the road.
First, when I started writing this blog I thought of it only as a way to share my day to day (okay, it ended up not being day to day but the thought was there) experiences as I followed my year long goal to commute 2,000 miles. I never thought anyone read it aside from my editor-in-chief (otherwise known as my patient, loving, supportive wife Amy) and myself. Occasionally someone would e-mail me to tell me about something they read on it but I always figured it was a fluke (despite the fact there is a link to my blog on our website). I guess I never thought anyone would be interested in my metaphysical musings. So imagine my surprise to find out that there are people who actually read what I write - sometimes on a daily basis. To those of you I say thank you and I'll try to actually keept that in mind as I create posts in the future. I'll at least try to make what I write a little more scintillating.
Secondly, I have found out that there are people who actually read my blog becuase of the amazing outpouring of support I have been getting from friends, former students, current students, family and in once instance a total stranger. Some of them have mentioned to me how they find out from reading my blog and have mentioned some of the things I wrote. To each and every one of you - thank you. Your love and support in this time of emotional upheaval has been an overwhelming source of support for me. There is a poem entitled "Bits and Pieces" (I wish I had all the words here but they are all at school) that describes how we are all made up of bits and pieces of the people who have touched our lives and come into contact with us - both positive and negative. So if we follow the logic of this poem, David is an intrinsic part of me and your prayers and condolences to me are therefore going straight to David as well. So on behalf of us both, I again thank you so much for everything you have sent to me in the last few days.
And now the moment of Catharsis, part 2. Yesterday was David's memorial and I couldn't be there. In this time of financial difficulty I just couldn't get there. Instead, I went out for a ride with my local bike club group. I know on Friday I went riding just to get things out of my system and it took me until the Lawrence Hill climb until I finally exhausted myself to the point that the tears flowed down my cheeks. They came on and off the rest of the way home but I was finally able to break out of the numbness I had been feeling since I got the news.
One of the few things I remember from my college psychology classes and sociology classes is that when someone is grieving their are seven distinct stages that they need to experience before they have fully gone through the process of grieving and loss. Most of Thursday I was dealing with the first stage of shock and denial. Friday's ride took me through a lot of the second stage, dealing with the pain and guilt. I'm still dealing with both of these stages. Mostly I'm dealing with the guilt of not having been in better contact with him the last few years. A lot of what has been going through my head the last few days is the feeling that I let my little brother down by not being in more contact with him. I've never been very good at keeping in touch with people which is why this blog is becoming more important to me. At least there are some of you who I'm keeping in touch with. I don't want this to become too deep of an introspective blog but it is what I've been going through right now and its important for me to get it out - for those of you who have read this far, thank you for your patience and your support.
Anyway, today I rode because I just needed to get my mind off the fact that I couldn't be at David's memorial. My inability to be there was just adding to the guilt I've been feeling so I began the ride by riding from my house to Greenlawn.I won't go into all the details of the ride (I'll save that for tomorrow's post) but I will say that I was able to climb quite a few of the big hills becuase of anger. Every time I started to climb I would think of David and the unfairness of his death would hit me and nothing felt as good as it did to just mash the pedals all the way to the top. I just needed to get it out. The ride was mostly a great experience for me on so many levels (again, I'll write about that tomorrow, today's just not the day for joy) but mostly for the catharsis of being able to find something that really brought forth the anger and allowed me to channel it in a positive way. My family has been so supportive and I'm trying (not always successfully) to keep my anger from creeping out at them. Mostly I've been good at it but every now and then that anger just pops out.
I think David would have been appreciative of the fact that I spent the day doing something I love doing. I don't think he would ever understand why grown men would want to put on spandex, shave their legs and careen down hills at 45 miles an hour (honestly, I'm not sure many of my friends and family understand it) but I think he would appreciate that I was doing something that brought me joy.
I spoke to Tamara later in the day and she told me Markus read my words to David (check yesterday's blog entry) and that during the service the rain subsided just enough for the military honor guard to go outside and give David a 21-gun salute and play taps. Then the rain started up again. Late today that same rain hit us - at least I was able to share that part of the memorial with everyone.
I don't know how long it will take me to get through the next stages - I really hope I can get past this angry stage before I cause strife with the family - but I know that I have a lot of very supportive family, friends and students (both present and former) that are sending me positive thoughts, prayers and words. To all of you I thank you for being a part of my life.
Stay well and I'll see you on the road.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
For David
To begin, I could never have imagined that I would be writing these words. I honestly don't know how to begin. You never think there will come a time when one of your siblings, especially one younger than you will pass away. No matter how much distance or time separates you, you always think that they'll always be there. To connect with them all you have to do is pick up the phone or more likely, in this day of technological wonder, facebook or text them. No matter how far away or how much time passes, you never think that your family will ever leave you. You especially don't think there will ever come a time when your little brother won't be there anymore.
David and I didn't get to be together too much over the years. Although I've known about him since I was ten years old, I only got to meet him eleven years ago. But we hit it off as if we'd known each other our whole lives. In a sense we did. From the age of ten I knew I had a baby brother named David, but I knew little about him until I flew down to Knoxville to see my family. We spent a few days getting to know each other, and I knew then that I would be grateful for the rest of my life that I had my little brother back.
I am proud of my little brother. I'm proud of the life he was making for himself and for the way he was good at something he loved to do. Because he loved it, he had the best job in the world. He was a gentle man and funny. He called me a few times when he was on the road and we e-mailed a few more times; and his humor was always there, especially in his e-mails. I never got the funny voice mail messages on my phone that he would always leave for Tamara, but he always knew when my birthday was and I always remembered when his was.
We'll miss his jokes, we'll miss his smile and his laugh, but mostly we'll miss his presence. We just need to imagine that he's only gone on a very long run. As we remember David and remember his smile, we can take comfort in the words that Mary Elizabeth Frye wrote long ago based on the prayers and beliefs of Native Americans:
"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die."
Goodbye David, we'll see you at the end of the run.
David and I didn't get to be together too much over the years. Although I've known about him since I was ten years old, I only got to meet him eleven years ago. But we hit it off as if we'd known each other our whole lives. In a sense we did. From the age of ten I knew I had a baby brother named David, but I knew little about him until I flew down to Knoxville to see my family. We spent a few days getting to know each other, and I knew then that I would be grateful for the rest of my life that I had my little brother back.
I am proud of my little brother. I'm proud of the life he was making for himself and for the way he was good at something he loved to do. Because he loved it, he had the best job in the world. He was a gentle man and funny. He called me a few times when he was on the road and we e-mailed a few more times; and his humor was always there, especially in his e-mails. I never got the funny voice mail messages on my phone that he would always leave for Tamara, but he always knew when my birthday was and I always remembered when his was.
We'll miss his jokes, we'll miss his smile and his laugh, but mostly we'll miss his presence. We just need to imagine that he's only gone on a very long run. As we remember David and remember his smile, we can take comfort in the words that Mary Elizabeth Frye wrote long ago based on the prayers and beliefs of Native Americans:
"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die."
Goodbye David, we'll see you at the end of the run.
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