If there was ever a time to revisit my Black River Blues blog, this is it. Thisweek I will honor my dear friend, known affectionately to me since grade schoolas "Sue Doof".
I owed her a call, as usual. Now I always will...
I'll start by re-posting her Obituary. I think the legacy.com posted Obituaries disappear after a while. I don't want that memory of Sue to go away...
Susan C. Dufresne
Obituary
CAPE CORAL, Fla. - Susan C. Dufresne, age 51, of Cape Coral, Florida, passed away at her home on September 12, 2012.
She is the daughter of Robert J. and Barbara H. Dufresne. In addition
to her parents, she is survived by three brothers, Robert E., David A.
and William R.
She was born in Springfield, Vermont, on April
24, 1961. She graduated from Springfield High School in 1978 (ed note: actually it was 1979). She
attended Lyndon State College and graduated with honors from Johnson
College in 1995. She attended New England School of Hair Design in
Claremont, New Hampshire, and served as an instructor and school
representative at various high schools in Vermont and New Hampshire
while living in Springfield.
In 1990, Sue joined her parents,
who were living in Fort Myers, Florida, and stayed to live in Cape
Coral. Sue had several health problems, and living close to her parents
was very helpful, but in the end they proved to be more than her system
could handle even with the care of several doctors.
Her love for
her family was very precious to her, along with her love of Vermont.
Susan will always be remembered for her courage and the many sacrifices
she had to make in her life.
A memorial service will be held at a
later date in Vermont and her cremated remains will be placed in the
family lot in the Berlin Corners Cemetery.
Actually, Sue graduated with the SHS Class of '79. My class.
There were many posts and pics on Facebook over the week. Here was mine:
"My
sincere condolences to the Dufresne family, I am so very sorry for your
loss. Sue , I am sorry. You made me smile with your squeals of
laughter and sharing funny stories and you made me cry when we shared
our heartbreaking stories, too. I miss you. I hope you are free from
pain at last and your psychic-self is seeing more than ever. I'm
afraid the next Lilies I send you will not be for your next Easter
birthday... I hope your cats will be in good hands. I know you are
now. My thoughts are with you and your family."
I started blogging, found it cathartic and enjoyed sharing with others. But I stopped and below are some reasons why.
I'm a private person There are many things I want to write about but most of them involve my personal life, my close friends and my family. I don't want to lose my privacy or invade the privacy of those close to me. Some things are just too personal to put out there in cyberspace for all to read, judge and possibly condemn. I don't want to embarrass anyone, especially myself. Another privacy issue is around identity theft. I'd love to blog about my first dog, my first car, my first grade teacher, my first girlfriend - but all that information turns out to be answers to security questions that will allow anyone to access various online accounts that I obviously want to keep secure. Such thoughts probably don't bother most people (or even enter their mind), but I worry. A lot. About lots of things. Someone called me a hypochondriac once and I thought they meant I was using drugs with a needle (!) I looked it up. And it's true! Yep, I worry. And for the record, I can't stand the site of needles and practically pass out just to have a blood test.
I'm a perfectionist Well, not really. But I don't want to post stuff that isn't complete, doesn't have all the quotes, references and photos posted to illustrate the story, hasn't been proofread or polished. I also don't want to publish stuff people will read and think, "so what?". What means something to me, doesn't mean much to anyone else. I don't want people to think I'm a narcissist either. (And yes, I know what that one means.)
I'm losing my mind Again, not really, but... My concern is that my memory of things may not always be the absolute truth. Just my recollection. And some things I write can be what I imagine they are and not what other folks believe to be reality. Some of this is selective memory, some just 'mis-remembered' (ask Roger Clemens and Andy Petite about that!), some sheer fabrication that I wished was true, perhaps. Perception is reality, they say. But maybe I am mis-remembering that truism, as well.
I don't have 'the time' In other words, I'm lazy. I think of things to write about and start or jot down notes but never finish. Because of the reasons above I rationalize that I'll leave it for now and get back to it 'some other time'. Later. Like, tomorrow... and we all know tomorrow never comes.
Tomorrow, I'll follow this up with a pep talk for myself that I read in a book about writing memoirs. It addresses each one of the concerns above.
In closing, here's a quote I memorized my senior year in college in Professor --'s Shakespeare class. I actually got an 'A' in this class, but took it Pass/Fail because I just wanted to enjoy it. I did.
"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps by in it's petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! For life is but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing."
"" If you have a dog and feed them, groom them, shelter them, protect them, clean up after them and love them, they will think that you are God. If you have a cat and feed them, groom them, shelter them, protect them, clean up after them and love them, they will know that they are God. "" - G.Whiz
I'm a dog person. Love dogs. Woof. I've had three dogs in my life. Loved them all. So obedient, so loyal, so trusting, so fun to play and run and walk with. They eat the leftovers after dinner, and clean up the mess I leave under the table during dinner. They bark like crazy when there's a knock or ring at the front door. They lick my wounds, cuts and scrapes so they will heal faster. They will lick the salty sweat off my legs after I come home after a run. They will lick the tears off my face after I cry, and I just know it's not simply because the tears are salty.
Cats are cool, I like them, but my beef with the felines is that they are so lazy. They don't love you - they love themselves. Our cat is queen of the house and basically sleeps all day. What a life. But she has no problem waking me up at 5 a.m. after I finally get to sleep... She'll sniff in my ear, stand on my chest, run around the room and jump and bounce off me so I'll wake up and let her out. Grrrr! She wants to go outside and hunt. She's a good hunter. But instead of keeping our house vermin-free, she'll bring in mice, snakes, gophers, birds or lizards to show us her prowess. What a show-off. Her injured prey invariably escape and hide under the fridge or oven. Great.
But now this, fresh off the internet presses.
A woman in Quebec watches as her pet house cat scares off a bear that approached the home. If this was a pet dog, I think it would have been a very very ugly scene. Instead, the pet cat comes to the rescue. The bear wants nothing to do with fluffy. He just snags the bag of garbage and lumbers off. The sacre bleu narration and the baby laughing and screaming in the background makes it.
Alessandro Argento lives in Las Vegas. He was an acquaintance of Scott Jasinski, SHS Class of '79. Alessandro was the one who was alarmed by Scott going incommunicado, and prompted the building manager to check his room where his body was found on July 1, 2009. I was in touch with Scott by Facebook only, and that is where I met Alessandro. It was not a pleasant way to meet someone, but he showed tremendous compassion to check on Scott. Unfortunately it was too late...
He is now going to join the WALK FOR AIDS - LAS VEGAS on April 25, and he is requesting donations in Memory of Scott.
Please join me in supporting a good cause, a good man and the memory of our classmate.
As I typed these first words during my lunch break at work, there was a mild earthquake that shook the building and faces with astonished looks popped up in the cube farm around me... ...
First, I have to say that I have a personal problem with New Years (among other things), because it's a real slap in the face that Time is marching on. Time passing along when I wish it wouldn't. But Time waits for no man, and there's nothing more certain than that cold, old saying. There's no Pause button to allow us to stop and think about what to say or do, no Rewind button to go back and do something differently, no Fast Forward to skip over the unpleasantness. Our lives are stuck on Play. I guess there is a message there. So don't bother looking under the couch for the remote control for life.
Last night I couldn't sleep so I watched "Airforce One" online on Netflix. One of the main themes is that the hard-nosed President Harrison (no relation) Ford refuses to negotiate with Terrorists no matter what - and of course he fights them all off. The film was made in 1997, it is a preposterous plot with poor special effects, but it's full of action and had me in that mindless state of entertainment... until the point where a terrorist holds a gun to the head of the President's 12 year old daughter, and promises to kill her in 5 seconds if the Prez doesn't give in to the demands. The terrorist proclaims in a harsh, despicable, and fabulously fake Russian accent: "Losing a child. It will make any man hollow." He counts to 2... and President Harrison Ford gives in! Indiana Jones himself gives up! That was it, the end of the movie for me. But of course the seemingly impossible happens and the bad guys all die and the President and his family are all miraculously saved. It's Hollywood. It's a Movie. It's not even close to reality. The movie was so bad, it made me want to cry.
In Jan 2005, five years ago this week, Charlie went in to get his braces. He chose purple rubber bands to start with. He "had" to get braces because he had lost a tooth many years earlier while fooling around at a Taiko drumming lesson. The other kids had tied him up tight in a chair. They all laughed while he hopped around the room - lurching and bouncing around, becoming one with the chair. Apparently at some point the chair tipped over and Charlie was unprotected as he fell head first into the linoleum covered concrete floor. He lost a molar on the upper right side of his mouth. He got a fake tooth retainer to fill it, but he hated wearing it. So for years, that was him. Missing that tooth. See (pic). I wish we had never gotten those braces for many many reasons. I wish a lot of things. But Wishing don't make it so.
pic - Charlie and his missing tooth, in his brand new SCHS Marching Band uniform in 2004. (source: Tatianna Stone)
In Jan 2008, on MLK birthday, M hit some black ice on highway 17 lost control and rolled her Jeep Wrangler soft top. She was in the ICU for a week and the TCU for two more. She has had her complete forehead replaced with titanium mesh, endured a blood clot (DVT=deep vein thrombosis) in her leg, had the bottom of her right eye socket repaired twice, and awaits minor surgery on left eye lid. Despite the trauma endured, she, and we, were VERY lucky it wasn't much, much worse. Her final minor surgery is scheduled in mid-Feb. She is driving again now and we are all counting our blessings. It has been a long two years. It seems like twenty. I got to taste what its like to be a single parent. Before this I couldn't imagine how single parents do it. I still don't know - but it just all gets done, doesn't it?
But every step of the way during this ordeal, there was always hope, some problem to think about and to solve, that allowed us to focus on, work on and hope for a resolution. Hope is something you can hang your hat on every day. Without hope what is there to live for? I think that's why our children are so precious to us. They are our hope as a family and a species for the future.
M's accident was not too bad, considering what could have happened in an accident like that. A year after her accident we got some perspective. One year ago this week, on Jan 2 2009, a young man named Jerry was in a dirt bike accident. He went over the handle bars and injured his spinal cord. He is a C4 quadriplegic. Jerry ran cross-country at SLV HS against Charlie freshman year. I visited Jerry in the same ICU wing of the same hospital that M was in exactly one year ago. I hugged his parents and told them they are lucky because they still have HOPE. He is still ALIVE. His family has faced a tremendous challenges ever since. You can follow his Mom's blog here: http://followingjerry.blogspot.com/. I admire Kate for her courage to share her hopes and fears so openly. It's admiration and admittedly maybe a hint of jealousy. I wish I had her courage. I wish I had her hope...
On Thanksgiving she wrote: ""There is so much that I'm thankful for, first and foremost my son's life. Even though Jerry's body is different his mind is the same. I'm thankful that Jerry didn't suffer brain damage, I'm thankful that his level of injury was not higher then C4. I'm thankful for the health and well being of my family. I'm thankful that God gives us strength to endure.""
Amen, sister.
January 15, 2010
As I return to complete this blog a week later, the world is watching in horror as the city of Port-au-Prince is devastated by an earthquake. 3 million people live there, each and every individual suffering some unimaginable emotional and physical hardship. It could easily have been the Bay Area here in California. We had tremors as I began writing this a week ago.
I remember hearing that 250,000 people perished in the tsunami at the end of 2004. A number that is unfathomable. Thousand were washed away from the beaches in Phuket (pronounced pooh-ket, except when you're fed-up), Thailand where we used to go on vacation when we lived in Singapore. You see this human tragedy on the news and think it's always somewhere else, someone else, until the waves come crashing down close to home and wash away your own life. You never know...
This morning in the parking lot I'm walking into the office. My cell phone rings. It's my daughter. There's been a car accident. Oh... No.... I close my eyes and gasp for air and wonder what is next. It's just a fender bender. No one is hurt. I let out a huge sigh. I keep calm and cool as I talk her through what to do about insurance, etc. On the inside, I am smiling and ecstatic.
During the break my boss in Ireland had moved his family into the country side to be closer to nature. His hobbies range from photography (see his beautiful shot from India below), to wilderness survival training. He taught our small team in Dublin last May three different ways to start a fire without matches or a lighter. He's a great guy and a great boss. I get to the office and learn that he has had an accident over the holiday break. He was on a 16 foot ladder leaning into a tree with a running chainsaw in his hands when he fell. He fractured his pelvis in two places and has been on pain killers since the new year. Obviously it is painful and he will have a long recovery. But obviously it could have been much, much worse. You never know.
pic - Niall's Snake Eagle in Bandipur, India. (source copyright NW, facebook)
January 19, 2010
As I finish this rambling entry, I am saddened once again. My SHS class learned over the weekend that we lost another classmate to a heart attack. Kerry Partridge was one of my first friends at Elm Hill School in first grade. I used to get a kick out of his sibling's names: Gary, Larry, Kerry and the youngest Stanley. I tried to nickname Stan "Barry" but it never stuck. We used to go up to his house after school and build go-carts in his garage. To me, he was a gentle giant, who had a big smile and a huge heart. Big KP and rail-thin TF used to bring down the house during talent shows at school with their Laurel & Hardy comedy shtick. He was a champion trumpet player, and he kept playing well past HS band. Those were the only times he would ever blow his own horn. I wish I could play the trumpet so I could play Taps for him. KP and his brother Stan used to line the alumni parade route and call me out every year. KP always had a bear hug for me and a somewhat sad, faraway look in his eyes. Selfishly, I thought he may have been sad for me and my loss. Then, this week I read his obituary: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/rutlandherald/obituary.aspx?n=kerry-l-partridge&pid=138661991
and learned he had lost a son, Timothy, back in 1986. His son Timothy must have been very young. I never knew... My thoughts and prayers are with Kerry and his friends and family. His memory lives on inside us all.
pic - Kerry Partridge, you are missed, my friend. (source SHS Yearbook 1979)
This week I also heard from an old friend of mine. An Iranian woman I called Snazzy. We are rarely in touch, once a year at most, usually just with a short note by email or IM. She IM'd me briefly from SoCal to tell me she had a baby boy in late 2009. She wanted me to know she named him Charlie. It made me smile on the outside, and cry on the inside.
Now, as a New Year begins and resolutions are made I look around me. Like many others, I have loved ones who start a new decade with challenges, whether it is battling addiction to nicotine, a marriage in crisis, starting out newly divorced, battling emotional depression, fighting desperately a cancer that has spread unmercifully, newly diagnosed with prostate cancer and surgery any day now, hernia surgery, a battle with bottle, those who have recently lost pets or parents or other loved ones, and the list just seems to go on and on and on...
One of my closest buds said at the end of last year: "2009 can KISS MY ASS. Don't let the door hit you on the way out!" I just don't know about 2010. One can only hope that when the door slams shut, that another one, somewhere, opens a bit more softly...
...It's all slowly becoming pretty clear to me now. Finally, I realize we cannot "win". But we can always "be". Be here in the present, embracing the moment and each other, offering hope and possibly even some joy while we still can. As a classmate recently wrote: "living each day with gratitude, no matter the circumstances in which we find ourselves."
Writing all this, I'm reminded of a book I read during my struggles called "When Things Fall Apart" by Pema Chödrön. It's a Tibetan Buddhist approach to life, "Heart Advice for Difficult Times" is the subtitle. You might say the cover grabbed me. Chapter 7 is titled: "Hopelessness and Death". The gist of the lesson is that we need to train ourselves to not live with Hope. Say what?! I couldn't believe it! That's right, Hope is the future and we can never live in the future. There is too much impermanence in this world, and there are no guarantees. There is no way to control the boundless infinity and complexity of the physical world. Life is a gift and death is inevitable. There is only Now. Just accept it and live in it. Now. It's a lesson that has stuck in my mind and been hard for me to rationalize. I am starting to learn, ever so slowly.
I'd like to quote the whole chapter, but here's the concluding paragraph, and I quote: "" Giving up hope is encouragement to stick with yourself, to make friends with yourself, to not run away from yourself, to return to the bare bones, no matter what is going on. Fear of death is the background of the whole thing. It's why we feel restless, why we panic, why there's anxiety. But if we totally experience hopelessness, giving up all hope of alternatives to the present moment, we can have a joyful relationship with our lives, an honest, direct relationship, one that no longer ignores the reality of impermanence and death.""
I don't ask anyone to agree, because honestly I'm not sure even I do. Only to try and understand the point of view. I just think there is wisdom and truth here. A wisdom and truth I still struggle with every day, along with the Black River Blues.
...in a vain attempt to end this on a somewhat brighter note, here's a song about my not-so-favorite month, a blast from the past. The 70's, you know.
I grew up along the Black River in Vermont in the 60's and 70's. I'm a long way from 'home' now and I'm still growing. I get the blues sometimes. Don't we all? This is my Black River Blues Blog, my diary of sorts to track my 'growth'. It's for me to chronicle and share things in my life. Feel free to share back and comment. Take care! --Scott;
CAPE CORAL, Fla. - Susan C. Dufresne, age 51, of Cape Coral, Florida, passed away at her home on September 12, 2012.
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