Saturday, March 29, 2014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Time Heals!
Its been a couple of weeks since the anniversary of Mark’s death. In my last post I talked about the difference between mourning and grief. Mourning is time related. In most cultures a year. Grief continues on forever, but with the passage of time it sinks from the surface. Never very far, but coping with those moments of grief brings less tears and heartache. I am here to report that this premise holds true, even more than I believed it would. The tears are fewer and farther between. The weight of grief has diminished. It’s still there, but easier.
In 1994 my parents were nearing the end. My brother and I had made the trip to Indiana once again. This was the hardest one because, we had to return Mom to the care of a nursing home. My brother and I agree it was the hardest thing we had experienced in our lives up to that time.
I was at the nursing home before I left for the trip back to Minnesota. I stood at the door and watched this final scene.
“Mom had the left-leaning list left behind by her stroke, as she shuffled down the hall on Dad’s arm. Dad had a slightly bent-over walk with his trousers, held up by his suspenders, situated too far above his waist and the tops of his white socks showing -- high water pants is what she would have called them. They had finally taken on the feeble look of the very old. Against the bright light, reflecting off the polished beige tiled floor, they moved slowly away from where I stood, supporting each other, moving gently into the light.
The next day, I started back to Minnesota. As I drove along, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind, and suddenly tears began to flow like the torrents of a summer thunderstorm beating against the windshield. I pulled to the side of the road, where I sat crying -- unashamedly. Eventually, the storm of tears subsided and the clouds of mourning cleared away. I felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders. In retrospect, that moment on the highway was my period of mourning for the loss of my parents because from that moment on, I cried very little. I realized the time had come to take my seat in the front row of life, as the older generation, and someday, I too would walk gently into the light. “
These experiences are consistent, although the facts of the circumstances are a little different. Mourning passes and grieve subsides to a little below the surface of your emotions. Time heals, even though it doesn’t heal completely.
As I wrote about my grandfather' s funeral on what it felt like when it was all over.
'"As we walked back to our car in silence, I took a quick glance over my shoulder to catch a final glimpse of where my grandfather would be buried forever. Dad started the engine, and we eased our way out of the cemetery and on to the road back to Grandma’s house. The silence was broken when my father reached over and turned on the radio. As the music began to play, I can clearly remember feeling the great burden of grief being lifted from my body. Suddenly, I felt better. The program on the radio was normal. The traffic was normal. The sunshine was normal. The green of the trees and grass was normal. Everything was normal, and the world was indeed going on as usual. I guess it was my first realization that death’s rituals pass and the world, as it had done while I was away, goes on about its daily business.
'
There is a new day!
Sam
In 1994 my parents were nearing the end. My brother and I had made the trip to Indiana once again. This was the hardest one because, we had to return Mom to the care of a nursing home. My brother and I agree it was the hardest thing we had experienced in our lives up to that time.
I was at the nursing home before I left for the trip back to Minnesota. I stood at the door and watched this final scene.
“Mom had the left-leaning list left behind by her stroke, as she shuffled down the hall on Dad’s arm. Dad had a slightly bent-over walk with his trousers, held up by his suspenders, situated too far above his waist and the tops of his white socks showing -- high water pants is what she would have called them. They had finally taken on the feeble look of the very old. Against the bright light, reflecting off the polished beige tiled floor, they moved slowly away from where I stood, supporting each other, moving gently into the light.
The next day, I started back to Minnesota. As I drove along, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind, and suddenly tears began to flow like the torrents of a summer thunderstorm beating against the windshield. I pulled to the side of the road, where I sat crying -- unashamedly. Eventually, the storm of tears subsided and the clouds of mourning cleared away. I felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders. In retrospect, that moment on the highway was my period of mourning for the loss of my parents because from that moment on, I cried very little. I realized the time had come to take my seat in the front row of life, as the older generation, and someday, I too would walk gently into the light. “
These experiences are consistent, although the facts of the circumstances are a little different. Mourning passes and grieve subsides to a little below the surface of your emotions. Time heals, even though it doesn’t heal completely.
As I wrote about my grandfather' s funeral on what it felt like when it was all over.
'"As we walked back to our car in silence, I took a quick glance over my shoulder to catch a final glimpse of where my grandfather would be buried forever. Dad started the engine, and we eased our way out of the cemetery and on to the road back to Grandma’s house. The silence was broken when my father reached over and turned on the radio. As the music began to play, I can clearly remember feeling the great burden of grief being lifted from my body. Suddenly, I felt better. The program on the radio was normal. The traffic was normal. The sunshine was normal. The green of the trees and grass was normal. Everything was normal, and the world was indeed going on as usual. I guess it was my first realization that death’s rituals pass and the world, as it had done while I was away, goes on about its daily business.
'
There is a new day!
Sam
Monday, March 17, 2014
On a Lighter Note!
There are always gaffs in politics. I like the funny ones. These are two of my favorites.
Joe Biden:
Joe was at a rally. Someone told him a state representative was in the audience who was running for reelection. Ever the politician Joe shouted out, "I understand Representative John Jones is in the audience. Stand up John and let us see you." Unfortunately, John was in a wheel chair. Joe rallied and recovered, but it was like an SNL moment.
Sarah Palin:
After Palin was introduced by McCain, she got into her speech and commented on Hillary. She complimented her on her campaign and on the dissatisfaction of Hillary's woman supporters, who were left behind. "Hillary left behind 18 million cracks in the ceiling." I still get a chuckle out of that.
Have a nice dy!
Are we there yet?
Sam
Joe Biden:
Joe was at a rally. Someone told him a state representative was in the audience who was running for reelection. Ever the politician Joe shouted out, "I understand Representative John Jones is in the audience. Stand up John and let us see you." Unfortunately, John was in a wheel chair. Joe rallied and recovered, but it was like an SNL moment.
Sarah Palin:
After Palin was introduced by McCain, she got into her speech and commented on Hillary. She complimented her on her campaign and on the dissatisfaction of Hillary's woman supporters, who were left behind. "Hillary left behind 18 million cracks in the ceiling." I still get a chuckle out of that.
Have a nice dy!
Are we there yet?
Sam
Sunday, March 16, 2014
The Mourning After!
A last week approached, I was not looking forward to it. It would the first anniversary of Mark’s death. No one can really understand the tragedy brought about by the death of a child, and I hope nobody ever has to understand. We are not the first nor the last people to lose a child. Everyone handles it in their own way, but It leaves a huge hole in your heart, mind and soul.
However, as the week went on, approaching that fateful day, I found it to be not as paralyzing as I thought it would be. Last Sunday, I ask my brother how it was when the first anniversary of Jeff’s death came around. He told me it wasn't as bad as he anticipated. If someone were to ask me the same question today, I would give them the same answer. I actually had a very good week. Oh, there were tears, but the overall week was a combination of praying, nostalgia, tears, laughs, reliving his life, reading the Facebook comments about Mark over the past year (there were many from this week from his friends and co-workers, his photography, his videos and my own reflections. My passage was soothed by writing from the my heart. He was unique. a loving friendly, funny, and a loyal friend to anyone he ever met. He is loved and remembered.
So with all the sadness I experienced this week, how could have been a good week? I have come to this conclusion. Mourning and grieving are too different things. Mourning is a time period. It has a beginning and an end. In most societies it seems to last a year. This week I ended the mourning period. When you put mourning on the back shelf, there is a sense of a new beginning. The first my of the rest of my life. Mourning is behind me.
When mourning is put away, it leaves only the grief. But a strange thing happens, the grief subsides and sinks below the surface a little bit. It will never go away, but it lowers itself in to a more quiet place. The grief will always be there, but with damp eyes rather than tears. I suppose this is the part in the stages of grief called, acceptance.
I want to thank all of my friends who read my blog for bearing with me this week. It has been cathartic.
With all my heart, I love you all. And so I move on making my memories.
Sam
However, as the week went on, approaching that fateful day, I found it to be not as paralyzing as I thought it would be. Last Sunday, I ask my brother how it was when the first anniversary of Jeff’s death came around. He told me it wasn't as bad as he anticipated. If someone were to ask me the same question today, I would give them the same answer. I actually had a very good week. Oh, there were tears, but the overall week was a combination of praying, nostalgia, tears, laughs, reliving his life, reading the Facebook comments about Mark over the past year (there were many from this week from his friends and co-workers, his photography, his videos and my own reflections. My passage was soothed by writing from the my heart. He was unique. a loving friendly, funny, and a loyal friend to anyone he ever met. He is loved and remembered.
So with all the sadness I experienced this week, how could have been a good week? I have come to this conclusion. Mourning and grieving are too different things. Mourning is a time period. It has a beginning and an end. In most societies it seems to last a year. This week I ended the mourning period. When you put mourning on the back shelf, there is a sense of a new beginning. The first my of the rest of my life. Mourning is behind me.
When mourning is put away, it leaves only the grief. But a strange thing happens, the grief subsides and sinks below the surface a little bit. It will never go away, but it lowers itself in to a more quiet place. The grief will always be there, but with damp eyes rather than tears. I suppose this is the part in the stages of grief called, acceptance.
I want to thank all of my friends who read my blog for bearing with me this week. It has been cathartic.
With all my heart, I love you all. And so I move on making my memories.
Sam
Friday, March 14, 2014
When Tomorrow Starts Without Me!
By David Romano
When tomorrow starts without me,
and I'm not there to see;
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
all filled with tears for me;
I wish so much you wouldn't cry
the way you did today,
While thinking of the many things
we didn't get to say.
I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you,
And each time you think of me,
I know you'll miss me, too.
But when tomorrow starts without me,
please try and understand,
That an angel came and called my name
and took me by the hand,
And said my place was ready
in heaven far above,
And that I'd have to leave behind
all those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away,
a tear fell from my eye,
For all my life I'd always thought
I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for
and so much yet to do,
It seemed almost impossible
that I am leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
the good ones and the bad,
I thougth of all the love we shared
and all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday,
I thought, just for a while,
I'd say good-bye and kiss you
and maybe see your smile.
But then I fully realized
that this could never be.
For emptiness and memories
would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things
that I'd miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
my heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven's gates,
I felt so much at home.
When God look down and smiled at me,
from His great golden throne.
He said, "This is eternity
and all I've promised you,
Today your life on earth is past,
but here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow,
but today will always last,
And since each day's the same day,
there's no longing for the past.
But you have been so faithful,
so trusting and so true,
Though there were times you did some things
you knew you shouldn't do.
But you have been forgiven,
and now at last your free.
So won't you take my hand
and share my life with me?"
So when tomorrow starts without me,
don't think we're far apart,
For everytime you think of me,
I'm right here in your heart.
When tomorrow starts without me,
and I'm not there to see;
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
all filled with tears for me;
I wish so much you wouldn't cry
the way you did today,
While thinking of the many things
we didn't get to say.
I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you,
And each time you think of me,
I know you'll miss me, too.
But when tomorrow starts without me,
please try and understand,
That an angel came and called my name
and took me by the hand,
And said my place was ready
in heaven far above,
And that I'd have to leave behind
all those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away,
a tear fell from my eye,
For all my life I'd always thought
I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for
and so much yet to do,
It seemed almost impossible
that I am leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
the good ones and the bad,
I thougth of all the love we shared
and all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday,
I thought, just for a while,
I'd say good-bye and kiss you
and maybe see your smile.
But then I fully realized
that this could never be.
For emptiness and memories
would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things
that I'd miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
my heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven's gates,
I felt so much at home.
When God look down and smiled at me,
from His great golden throne.
He said, "This is eternity
and all I've promised you,
Today your life on earth is past,
but here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow,
but today will always last,
And since each day's the same day,
there's no longing for the past.
But you have been so faithful,
so trusting and so true,
Though there were times you did some things
you knew you shouldn't do.
But you have been forgiven,
and now at last your free.
So won't you take my hand
and share my life with me?"
So when tomorrow starts without me,
don't think we're far apart,
For everytime you think of me,
I'm right here in your heart.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
The Worst Day Of My Life!
March 13, 2013. I started my day pretty much as usual. I checked out the news on my computer, lounged around and then headed for the gym. It was a typical Southern California day, beautiful. It was a day the Lord had made.
I finished my usual exercise routine, spoke to Jimmy, the attendant, picked up a copy of the local Coronado Eagle Journal and went out the door and up the stairs into the warm sunshine. As I reached the top of the stairs, my phone rang. It was about 10:45. It was my friend, Ruieta. She said there was a policeman who wanted to speak with me, I told him I would be right there and proceeded to walk to my building and up the elevator. I still had no clue why a policeman would want to talk to me. I wondered if he needed to talk to me about a friend who might be in some trouble.Yes, I do have friends that could be in trouble.
Note: Ruieta later told me that she was scheduled to visit a few of the units her family owned. She planned to make my building her last stop, but for some reason she changed her mind and came to my building first. She usually parks in the parking structure, but today parked out the front entrance to the lobby. When she went inside the policeman was there looking for me. They did not have my cell number at the desk. She spoke up and said she had my phone number. The officer made that fateful call.
I got off the elevator and Ruieta and the policeman were waiting. The officer said he needed to speak to me inside. We went in. and I offered him a seat on the couch and proceeded to sit-down in my easy chair, placing my newspaper on the table beside me. (It is still in that place one year later.) I still was not sure what it was all about, but I knew it might be serious.
He said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.’” At that moment I knew and I knew it was about Mark.
“Your son, Mark, was found dead in his apartment this morning. I am sorry for your loss.” I was floored with this absolute bombshell. The worst nightmare was true. An emptiness flooded over my heart and stomach.. I asked immediately if there was foul play involved. He told me that it looked natural.
He then gave me the name and phone number of the detective handling the case. I thanked him and he left. Ruieta came in. I told her the news and said I needed to make some phone calls.
I called the number and got the Hackensack Police Department. I told the officer who I was and the detective whom I needed to speak to. The officer said that the detective was still on the scene, and he would call my back right away. I finally got the call and he outlined that Mark was found on his floor. There was no fowl play. His body would be taken to the morgue for an autopsy.
I then called Doe. She was coming out of her hobby job work place. I ask her if anyone had contacted her. By the tone of her voice I knew she did not know. I broke the news to her. I gave her the details. as I knew them/ and the phone numbers. Naturally she was in shock. I told her to go home immediately. The Eden Prairie [olice contacted her later and said they had been there but there was nobody home. We both want to thank the Hackensack Police Department, the Coronado Police Department and the Eden Prairie Police Department for their sensitive handling of this terrible situation. I imagine this may be the worst part of their jobs.
Later, I was able to piece together part of the story. Mark died on Monday night of a heart attack. The death certificate stated it was a result of a long time development of coronary heart disease. I had told both my boys that they had a heredity factor going for them because I had a heart attack at forty-four years of age. It was a fact that Mark didn’t take care for his physical health. He had heredity against him, he was greatly overweight, his diet and exercise were that of a couch potato, he smoked, his job was high stress with high stress travel. The sad part, if he had taken better care of himself, he might be alive today.
On Tuesday morning Mark did not show up for work. This was totally out of pattern for him. No one could reach him by phone, text or email. On Wednesday morning, once again he wasn’t there. His boss, Paul Yoo, now knew he had to find out why Mark was not there.
He drove to Mark’s apartment and contacted the manager. He told her of his concerns. She said that in these cases the police needed to be called to insure that if there was foul play, evidence would be secure. The detectives came and the manager let them in. Mark was on the floor with no life. I figured that he died either before midnight of the 11th or the morning of the 12th. In any event it was over night between the 11th and 12th, and does it really matter. I consider his death was when I got the word.
The manager later told Doe that Paul stood outside the door, acting as almost a protector and sentry. She offered him a chair, but he refused. The next morning the LG company flag flew at half mast in honor of Mark Arnold. We will forever be grateful to Paul and all of his co-workers. Paul and several of Mark’s close friends attended his Memorial service later.
I have my concerns about Facebook, but I found perhaps it is a most valuable tool for anyone in my position. His last post was a pinup shot of a beautiful young lady he had photographed the day before at his photography group. I was able to read posts to his page about the feelings of his friends and co-workers about him. I never read one without crying a little. Still do, because he still gets a post every so often. I still communicate by posting little things that I knew he would be interested in.He was truly loved by anyone who knew him.
As time moved forward, It was Doe who took over all of the tasks that needed to be done to move time forward. I will be forever grateful for all she did. I felt guilt that I couldn't do more, but that’s the process that moved the terrible tasks forward to its finality. It was way she wanted it. She has always been one who needs to control. It was also it is her way of coping. Keep busy. She did the best job given the task of anyone in the world. My other son, Tim, who is an attorney. helped his Mom with the legal matters.
I wish Doe and Tim would write their stories of this tragic time for our family. It would complete the the story..
I have lived a most blessed life. Mark’s death is the only real tragedy I have ever encountered, but it is all part of life.
Thanks for listening.
Sam
I finished my usual exercise routine, spoke to Jimmy, the attendant, picked up a copy of the local Coronado Eagle Journal and went out the door and up the stairs into the warm sunshine. As I reached the top of the stairs, my phone rang. It was about 10:45. It was my friend, Ruieta. She said there was a policeman who wanted to speak with me, I told him I would be right there and proceeded to walk to my building and up the elevator. I still had no clue why a policeman would want to talk to me. I wondered if he needed to talk to me about a friend who might be in some trouble.Yes, I do have friends that could be in trouble.
Note: Ruieta later told me that she was scheduled to visit a few of the units her family owned. She planned to make my building her last stop, but for some reason she changed her mind and came to my building first. She usually parks in the parking structure, but today parked out the front entrance to the lobby. When she went inside the policeman was there looking for me. They did not have my cell number at the desk. She spoke up and said she had my phone number. The officer made that fateful call.
I got off the elevator and Ruieta and the policeman were waiting. The officer said he needed to speak to me inside. We went in. and I offered him a seat on the couch and proceeded to sit-down in my easy chair, placing my newspaper on the table beside me. (It is still in that place one year later.) I still was not sure what it was all about, but I knew it might be serious.
He said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.’” At that moment I knew and I knew it was about Mark.
“Your son, Mark, was found dead in his apartment this morning. I am sorry for your loss.” I was floored with this absolute bombshell. The worst nightmare was true. An emptiness flooded over my heart and stomach.. I asked immediately if there was foul play involved. He told me that it looked natural.
He then gave me the name and phone number of the detective handling the case. I thanked him and he left. Ruieta came in. I told her the news and said I needed to make some phone calls.
I called the number and got the Hackensack Police Department. I told the officer who I was and the detective whom I needed to speak to. The officer said that the detective was still on the scene, and he would call my back right away. I finally got the call and he outlined that Mark was found on his floor. There was no fowl play. His body would be taken to the morgue for an autopsy.
I then called Doe. She was coming out of her hobby job work place. I ask her if anyone had contacted her. By the tone of her voice I knew she did not know. I broke the news to her. I gave her the details. as I knew them/ and the phone numbers. Naturally she was in shock. I told her to go home immediately. The Eden Prairie [olice contacted her later and said they had been there but there was nobody home. We both want to thank the Hackensack Police Department, the Coronado Police Department and the Eden Prairie Police Department for their sensitive handling of this terrible situation. I imagine this may be the worst part of their jobs.
Later, I was able to piece together part of the story. Mark died on Monday night of a heart attack. The death certificate stated it was a result of a long time development of coronary heart disease. I had told both my boys that they had a heredity factor going for them because I had a heart attack at forty-four years of age. It was a fact that Mark didn’t take care for his physical health. He had heredity against him, he was greatly overweight, his diet and exercise were that of a couch potato, he smoked, his job was high stress with high stress travel. The sad part, if he had taken better care of himself, he might be alive today.
On Tuesday morning Mark did not show up for work. This was totally out of pattern for him. No one could reach him by phone, text or email. On Wednesday morning, once again he wasn’t there. His boss, Paul Yoo, now knew he had to find out why Mark was not there.
He drove to Mark’s apartment and contacted the manager. He told her of his concerns. She said that in these cases the police needed to be called to insure that if there was foul play, evidence would be secure. The detectives came and the manager let them in. Mark was on the floor with no life. I figured that he died either before midnight of the 11th or the morning of the 12th. In any event it was over night between the 11th and 12th, and does it really matter. I consider his death was when I got the word.
The manager later told Doe that Paul stood outside the door, acting as almost a protector and sentry. She offered him a chair, but he refused. The next morning the LG company flag flew at half mast in honor of Mark Arnold. We will forever be grateful to Paul and all of his co-workers. Paul and several of Mark’s close friends attended his Memorial service later.
I have my concerns about Facebook, but I found perhaps it is a most valuable tool for anyone in my position. His last post was a pinup shot of a beautiful young lady he had photographed the day before at his photography group. I was able to read posts to his page about the feelings of his friends and co-workers about him. I never read one without crying a little. Still do, because he still gets a post every so often. I still communicate by posting little things that I knew he would be interested in.He was truly loved by anyone who knew him.
As time moved forward, It was Doe who took over all of the tasks that needed to be done to move time forward. I will be forever grateful for all she did. I felt guilt that I couldn't do more, but that’s the process that moved the terrible tasks forward to its finality. It was way she wanted it. She has always been one who needs to control. It was also it is her way of coping. Keep busy. She did the best job given the task of anyone in the world. My other son, Tim, who is an attorney. helped his Mom with the legal matters.
I wish Doe and Tim would write their stories of this tragic time for our family. It would complete the the story..
I have lived a most blessed life. Mark’s death is the only real tragedy I have ever encountered, but it is all part of life.
Thanks for listening.
Sam
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Memories of a Great Guy!
Some of you knew Mark his whole life, and others didn’t know him at all except through what I have shared. Mark would have died one year ago last night. He died on the same day as my mother. The hard part of today is, this is the day he lay on his floor waiting for his body to be discovered.
I thought I would write today about the Mark I knew.
Mark Patrick Arnold was born March 20,1977 at Fairview Southdale Hospital in Edina MN, a suburb of Minneapolis. We gave him the name Mark because we liked it. Patrick came from his mother’s Irish roots, and she was hoping he would be born on St. Patrick’ Day. Those Irish!
As a young boy, we moved several times because of my work. We moved to Chicago, Fort Wayne,IN,Yorba Linda,CA and then back to Minneapolis. Or, as Mark would post on his Facebook page when announcing his travel schedule MSP-ORD-FWA-SNA-MSP. Mark was thirteen when we moved back to Minneapolis (Eden Prairie).
He was not a great student. Not that he wasn’t smart, but he was always having too much fun with his new found pals and friends for life. He mostly worked retail as a teenager. Walmart was where he worked the longest. He and his lifelong buddy, Mark Kiefer, worked together. One time it was pretty slow and the manager ask the Marks to keep busy and perhaps build an aisle display. When the manager returned to check on them, they had built a large Maxipads display. That was so Mark and Mark.
One of his early avocations was WWII airplanes. he read, he studied and built models. He became active as a volunteer at a very large WWII aircraft museum in Eden Prairie. He became a docent at fourteen, conducting tours. He loved giving his mini lectures. This was the foundation of his true talent of sales, teaching and performing. Everything in his life prepared him for his ultimate career with LG Electronics.
He attended the School of Communication Arts, where he received an AA degree. Unfortunately, he discovered that he really wasn't very talented at computer animation. His mother and I agreed that when we looked at the other student’s projects. But that was okay because it set him on a career path in consumer electronics.
He got a job selling big screen TVs on commission. That’s a tough way to make a living. When he started in sales he bought and studied many books on salesmanship. He studied and understood the sales process. I have been in store when he was talking to a prospective customer. Being in sales and marketing myself, I understood his talent as a salesperson.
He moved on, working at Best Buy and an Apple store. When he lost his job at Apple, he went into a deep depression. His mother and I were very worried about him, but he finally pulled himself up and used his growing network of associates in the business to get a job at AT&T wireless.
What I have always found interesting is that from his early days in consumer electronics, he knew he wanted to work for a manufacturer as a trainer. That would be a very tough job to find, having never worked for a manufacturer. But once again, his network let him know about a trainer job at LG Electronics. Mark wanted that job so bad that, he tried to keep his expectations down to avoid severe disappointment. He got the job. I was so happy for him. It turned out he didn't have as much to worry about as he thought. I learned later that the HR representative that did his telephone interview told the boss, “This one is special, I strongly recommend you hire him”. And that began his career journey. with LG. When he started there were forty-two trainers. Then the company decided to cut back to eight trainers and go with relying on an outside firm to handle the stores. Mark was not sure what was going to happen,especially since his immediate bosses would be taking two of the slots. He started to put out feelers in case he lost his job. Living in Minneapolis turned out to be a plus for him because that is the world headquarters of Best Buy. He became the key LG guy for the Best Buy stores nationally. It was heavy travel job, but he loved it. Hotel points and airline points became a hobby. He very much wanted to use them to go to London. He said one time that the had enough and that it looked like it was going to happen. It never did.
He received two promotions and there was pressure on him to move to the New Jersey headquarters of LG to be the head in store training guy for appliances. He agonized over moving to New Jersey. He was a Minneapolis boy and loved being a Minnesotan. My advice was make the move because it meant furthering his career, and I knew the importance of being at headquarters. He took the job in New Jersey in June, 2012 and found an apartment in Hackensack.
That was his career path, but it was the other stuff that made Mark who he was. He was a young man who took on a number of avocations. He would passionately pursue a new found interest, then would tire of it and move on to the next.
As mentioned before, his first was WWII airplanes.
He did some Karate,but after about a year , he gave it up and moved on. He was always a movie and music buff and knew a lot about them He was a big Star Wars guy, his favorite movies among many favorites were Reservoir Dogs, Batman and Glen Gary, Glen Ross. ( He would also see Glen Gary on the Broadway stage.) It was his custom to see the big movie premiers at the first midnight showing. a fact that one of his friends at least now he didn't have to go to a movie in the middle of the night.
In a post on one friend’s Facebook after Mark passed away, was how much he missed their Oscar marathon to see the nominees.
Mark was a first class Trivia player. Every Monday he and some of his pals would go to a NordEast bar. they won all the time. However, the prize was always paid off in beer. I don't think he ever bought a beer there. He liked swing dancing, poker, Lee’s Liquor Lounge and Nye’s Polonaise Room.
His favorite sport was baseball. He never cared much for football and basketball. He played Little League in California, but of course he had the Arnold sports curse. He wasn't very good. As a kid he was a die hard Cub fan. We saw the Cubs at Wrigley and Dodger Stadium. later he would become a Twins fan. One of our greatest memories was seeing the sixth game of the 1991 World Series, where Kirby Puckett hit the game winning home run in the bottom of the ninth One of the greatest World Series games of all time. When I was in Minneapolis a couple of summers ago he took me to a Twins game at the new Target Field. We had great seats. It would be one of the last things we did together.
However, his last passion was perhaps his greatest exhibition of talent, photography. He fell in love with Manhattan and was in to the city every weekend with his camera. He left a legacy of beautiful street and model photography. I will treasure his pictures forever. On the night he died the last thing he posted was a picture of a model he had photographed that weekend.
He put together a video NYC 2012 which he put on You Tube. He documented his experience of surviving Hurricane Sandy. He won an expensive Canon camera in a random drawing on a photo web sight. I have a recording of that call from his FB. I cant listen to it yet. Photography was truly his calling. I honestly believe he might have eventually made a new career for himself.
Perhaps the capper to his life was when he appeared on Celebrity Apprentice. LG sponsored one on the contests between two teams of Celebrities. He trained the celebrities on LG appliances. On his team was Marylu Henner. Unfortunately, I never got to discuss his experiences with him. They had a non-disclosure contract which prohibited discussion until after the airing.They shot the show in November, and it didn't air until April 20, a month after his death . you can watch it in You Tube. But I can't bring myself to watch it again.
Mark had a great sense of humor, loved trying new things, loved his job, and loved traveling. Most of all he loved his friends and his friends loved him.
So that’s my Markie. There was so much passion in what ever he did, and so much more I could say. On this anniversary of his passing, I love telling some of his story. There is so much more to say about this really good guy.
I always loved the way he answered my calls, “Hey, what’s happening?" I can hear it in my head everyday. Oh how I miss him.
Bless you all.
Sam
I thought I would write today about the Mark I knew.
Mark Patrick Arnold was born March 20,1977 at Fairview Southdale Hospital in Edina MN, a suburb of Minneapolis. We gave him the name Mark because we liked it. Patrick came from his mother’s Irish roots, and she was hoping he would be born on St. Patrick’ Day. Those Irish!
As a young boy, we moved several times because of my work. We moved to Chicago, Fort Wayne,IN,Yorba Linda,CA and then back to Minneapolis. Or, as Mark would post on his Facebook page when announcing his travel schedule MSP-ORD-FWA-SNA-MSP. Mark was thirteen when we moved back to Minneapolis (Eden Prairie).
He was not a great student. Not that he wasn’t smart, but he was always having too much fun with his new found pals and friends for life. He mostly worked retail as a teenager. Walmart was where he worked the longest. He and his lifelong buddy, Mark Kiefer, worked together. One time it was pretty slow and the manager ask the Marks to keep busy and perhaps build an aisle display. When the manager returned to check on them, they had built a large Maxipads display. That was so Mark and Mark.
One of his early avocations was WWII airplanes. he read, he studied and built models. He became active as a volunteer at a very large WWII aircraft museum in Eden Prairie. He became a docent at fourteen, conducting tours. He loved giving his mini lectures. This was the foundation of his true talent of sales, teaching and performing. Everything in his life prepared him for his ultimate career with LG Electronics.
He attended the School of Communication Arts, where he received an AA degree. Unfortunately, he discovered that he really wasn't very talented at computer animation. His mother and I agreed that when we looked at the other student’s projects. But that was okay because it set him on a career path in consumer electronics.
He got a job selling big screen TVs on commission. That’s a tough way to make a living. When he started in sales he bought and studied many books on salesmanship. He studied and understood the sales process. I have been in store when he was talking to a prospective customer. Being in sales and marketing myself, I understood his talent as a salesperson.
He moved on, working at Best Buy and an Apple store. When he lost his job at Apple, he went into a deep depression. His mother and I were very worried about him, but he finally pulled himself up and used his growing network of associates in the business to get a job at AT&T wireless.
What I have always found interesting is that from his early days in consumer electronics, he knew he wanted to work for a manufacturer as a trainer. That would be a very tough job to find, having never worked for a manufacturer. But once again, his network let him know about a trainer job at LG Electronics. Mark wanted that job so bad that, he tried to keep his expectations down to avoid severe disappointment. He got the job. I was so happy for him. It turned out he didn't have as much to worry about as he thought. I learned later that the HR representative that did his telephone interview told the boss, “This one is special, I strongly recommend you hire him”. And that began his career journey. with LG. When he started there were forty-two trainers. Then the company decided to cut back to eight trainers and go with relying on an outside firm to handle the stores. Mark was not sure what was going to happen,especially since his immediate bosses would be taking two of the slots. He started to put out feelers in case he lost his job. Living in Minneapolis turned out to be a plus for him because that is the world headquarters of Best Buy. He became the key LG guy for the Best Buy stores nationally. It was heavy travel job, but he loved it. Hotel points and airline points became a hobby. He very much wanted to use them to go to London. He said one time that the had enough and that it looked like it was going to happen. It never did.
He received two promotions and there was pressure on him to move to the New Jersey headquarters of LG to be the head in store training guy for appliances. He agonized over moving to New Jersey. He was a Minneapolis boy and loved being a Minnesotan. My advice was make the move because it meant furthering his career, and I knew the importance of being at headquarters. He took the job in New Jersey in June, 2012 and found an apartment in Hackensack.
That was his career path, but it was the other stuff that made Mark who he was. He was a young man who took on a number of avocations. He would passionately pursue a new found interest, then would tire of it and move on to the next.
As mentioned before, his first was WWII airplanes.
He did some Karate,but after about a year , he gave it up and moved on. He was always a movie and music buff and knew a lot about them He was a big Star Wars guy, his favorite movies among many favorites were Reservoir Dogs, Batman and Glen Gary, Glen Ross. ( He would also see Glen Gary on the Broadway stage.) It was his custom to see the big movie premiers at the first midnight showing. a fact that one of his friends at least now he didn't have to go to a movie in the middle of the night.
In a post on one friend’s Facebook after Mark passed away, was how much he missed their Oscar marathon to see the nominees.
Mark was a first class Trivia player. Every Monday he and some of his pals would go to a NordEast bar. they won all the time. However, the prize was always paid off in beer. I don't think he ever bought a beer there. He liked swing dancing, poker, Lee’s Liquor Lounge and Nye’s Polonaise Room.
His favorite sport was baseball. He never cared much for football and basketball. He played Little League in California, but of course he had the Arnold sports curse. He wasn't very good. As a kid he was a die hard Cub fan. We saw the Cubs at Wrigley and Dodger Stadium. later he would become a Twins fan. One of our greatest memories was seeing the sixth game of the 1991 World Series, where Kirby Puckett hit the game winning home run in the bottom of the ninth One of the greatest World Series games of all time. When I was in Minneapolis a couple of summers ago he took me to a Twins game at the new Target Field. We had great seats. It would be one of the last things we did together.
However, his last passion was perhaps his greatest exhibition of talent, photography. He fell in love with Manhattan and was in to the city every weekend with his camera. He left a legacy of beautiful street and model photography. I will treasure his pictures forever. On the night he died the last thing he posted was a picture of a model he had photographed that weekend.
He put together a video NYC 2012 which he put on You Tube. He documented his experience of surviving Hurricane Sandy. He won an expensive Canon camera in a random drawing on a photo web sight. I have a recording of that call from his FB. I cant listen to it yet. Photography was truly his calling. I honestly believe he might have eventually made a new career for himself.
Perhaps the capper to his life was when he appeared on Celebrity Apprentice. LG sponsored one on the contests between two teams of Celebrities. He trained the celebrities on LG appliances. On his team was Marylu Henner. Unfortunately, I never got to discuss his experiences with him. They had a non-disclosure contract which prohibited discussion until after the airing.They shot the show in November, and it didn't air until April 20, a month after his death . you can watch it in You Tube. But I can't bring myself to watch it again.
Mark had a great sense of humor, loved trying new things, loved his job, and loved traveling. Most of all he loved his friends and his friends loved him.
So that’s my Markie. There was so much passion in what ever he did, and so much more I could say. On this anniversary of his passing, I love telling some of his story. There is so much more to say about this really good guy.
I always loved the way he answered my calls, “Hey, what’s happening?" I can hear it in my head everyday. Oh how I miss him.
Bless you all.
Sam
Monday, March 10, 2014
The Hole In My Heart!
I’ve been dreading this week for some time. It will be the one year anniversary of my son, Mark’s death. It has been a very hard year.
There seems to be various levels of grief and the ability to put them in the back of your mind to be pulled out and thought about when called upon, but few, if any tears. I think we are programed to expect we will lose our parents before we pass. Of course the grief will be there, but easier to put deeper in your mind because it is the expected.
The second level is the loss of a spouse, aunt,uncle or close friend. But even in those cases. you can get passed the grief, but never forget them. This grief is closer to the surface, but can be tucked away from your close consciousness. People often find a second love, moving on, but not forgetting.
Then there is the loss of a child of any age. They will always be your child. We are not the first or last people that will have this tragedy enter their lives. No parent is prepared for it. It is not the way it is supposed to be. We learn God's plan does not match ours. The grief is so deep because your child has unfinished business. I have been able to compartmentalize somewhat, but tears are never far from the surface. Yesterday, I was a tough day because in a conversation with my brother, who lost his son eight months before Mark, we both shed tears.
What am I going to do to observe this hard anniversary? On Wednesday and Thursday I will be off the radar. I will go to my church to pray and write the story. Writing has always been cathartic for me. I am writing it mostly for me, my friends, Mark’s friends and for the posterity in family history. I pray that this moves me forward, but I know I will continue to grieve. We all grieve in our own way. Ecclesiastes 3 and the 23rd Psalm are readings I refer to in these tough times.
God loves you and so do I.
Sam
There seems to be various levels of grief and the ability to put them in the back of your mind to be pulled out and thought about when called upon, but few, if any tears. I think we are programed to expect we will lose our parents before we pass. Of course the grief will be there, but easier to put deeper in your mind because it is the expected.
The second level is the loss of a spouse, aunt,uncle or close friend. But even in those cases. you can get passed the grief, but never forget them. This grief is closer to the surface, but can be tucked away from your close consciousness. People often find a second love, moving on, but not forgetting.
Then there is the loss of a child of any age. They will always be your child. We are not the first or last people that will have this tragedy enter their lives. No parent is prepared for it. It is not the way it is supposed to be. We learn God's plan does not match ours. The grief is so deep because your child has unfinished business. I have been able to compartmentalize somewhat, but tears are never far from the surface. Yesterday, I was a tough day because in a conversation with my brother, who lost his son eight months before Mark, we both shed tears.
What am I going to do to observe this hard anniversary? On Wednesday and Thursday I will be off the radar. I will go to my church to pray and write the story. Writing has always been cathartic for me. I am writing it mostly for me, my friends, Mark’s friends and for the posterity in family history. I pray that this moves me forward, but I know I will continue to grieve. We all grieve in our own way. Ecclesiastes 3 and the 23rd Psalm are readings I refer to in these tough times.
God loves you and so do I.
Sam
Friday, March 7, 2014
This Just In!
1. Kayla Michelle Finley, of Pickens, S.C., was arrested Thursday when she went to the county sheriff's office to report a crime, according to Fox Carolina. Police discovered she had an active warrant for not returning a movie. (Yes, apparently that is a crime.)
2. This just in from NBA All-Star Game. Eastern Conference defeated Western Conference 163-155.
I guess there is no defensive player named to the team.
3. To highs in political correctness. "intellectually disabled". Seems they have a hard time finding work.
Is that the same as stupid?
4. "Blondie" Meredith has a fixation with being the closest thing to Barbie as she could. So she is taking hypnotherapy to "dumb her down".
Geez she's already blond and has plastic boobs. That's a good start.
5. An enterpizing young Girl Scout set up her cookie stand outside a pot shop in Colorado. She sold 117 boxes.
Girls scout cookies make fabulous munchies.
6. A man in Mississippi died in a hospice. the coroner was called and pronounced him dead at 9PM. He was transferred to a funeral home for embalming. however the funeral director noticed the body bag moving and opened it and found the man alive. The explanation seemed to be that the defibrillator implanted in his chest probably kicked in and jolted him back to life.
So folks it ain't over til it's over. Since I have a defribillator implanted in me that also saved my life, please be sure that I'm really out of here.
7. Men with straggly facial hair can now fill in the spaces by getting transplants.
All that just to be cool in today's society. What a bunch of vain jerks.
8. KARE in Minneapolis/St. Paul reports a study reveals that cell phones have more bacteria than a toilet seat.
Ok germaphopes, look forward to not hearing from you again.
9. Donald Trump in a speech called Jimmy Carter "the late great Jimmy Carter".
I'm sure Jimmy was as surprised as anyone to hear that.
10. According to Rolling Stone magazine, Miley Cyrus has been mentoring Justin Bieber.
Oh, that's why they look a like and behave a like. Who would have thunck?
2. This just in from NBA All-Star Game. Eastern Conference defeated Western Conference 163-155.
I guess there is no defensive player named to the team.
3. To highs in political correctness. "intellectually disabled". Seems they have a hard time finding work.
Is that the same as stupid?
4. "Blondie" Meredith has a fixation with being the closest thing to Barbie as she could. So she is taking hypnotherapy to "dumb her down".
Geez she's already blond and has plastic boobs. That's a good start.
5. An enterpizing young Girl Scout set up her cookie stand outside a pot shop in Colorado. She sold 117 boxes.
Girls scout cookies make fabulous munchies.
6. A man in Mississippi died in a hospice. the coroner was called and pronounced him dead at 9PM. He was transferred to a funeral home for embalming. however the funeral director noticed the body bag moving and opened it and found the man alive. The explanation seemed to be that the defibrillator implanted in his chest probably kicked in and jolted him back to life.
So folks it ain't over til it's over. Since I have a defribillator implanted in me that also saved my life, please be sure that I'm really out of here.
7. Men with straggly facial hair can now fill in the spaces by getting transplants.
All that just to be cool in today's society. What a bunch of vain jerks.
8. KARE in Minneapolis/St. Paul reports a study reveals that cell phones have more bacteria than a toilet seat.
Ok germaphopes, look forward to not hearing from you again.
9. Donald Trump in a speech called Jimmy Carter "the late great Jimmy Carter".
I'm sure Jimmy was as surprised as anyone to hear that.
10. According to Rolling Stone magazine, Miley Cyrus has been mentoring Justin Bieber.
Oh, that's why they look a like and behave a like. Who would have thunck?
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Fern in the Valley
I really don't write fiction. this is the one and only fictional short story I ever wrote, but in it there are pieces of truth. I know because i had to read it to understand I wrote it.
Fern Campbell sat in her usual place on the vinyl love seat that gave the best view through her hazy glaucoma ridden eyes of everything that was going on. Fern had just passed her one-hundredth birthday. She knew she was a hundred most of the time. Campbell was her maiden name. She had a couple of other married names in her life, but when they were all gone she returned to her original name because it reflected the years that as life turned out were the only happy years of her long and miserable life. She always hated the name, Fern. She never thought the fern was a very pretty plant, and she was indeed very pretty in her youth. Her ugliness came with the years of unhappiness she endured and made others endure most of her miserable life. She wondered why her mother didn’t name her Rose, if she had to be named after a plant. She always related her name to seeing a fossilized fern at the Museum of Natural History. She chuckled to herself that that is exactly what she was today, a fossilized Fern. This Fern died a little each day. Her leaves were mostly brown now and those that were still green had liver spots.
Fern had been an unhappy, miserable person most of her life. A bitch would be the proper term in today’s vernacular. Tragedy entered her life at the age of eighteen, when the only love of her life, Louis, was killed. It’s a long time to be a bitch. It made her hundred years even longer. She had see a lot, but nothing ever replaced the love she had for Louis. Her thoughts of her unhappy life always centered around how much different her life would have been if Louis and she had been married as planned. No one ever replaced Louis, no matter how hard they tried. She made everybody live with her personal tragedy all of her life.
Fern’s mind was like a lottery machine. Sometimes her mind would bounce around in the chaos of the ping pong balls in the lottery machine. Sometimes it would spit out thoughts as fast and as clear as the lottery machine spit out the winning numbers. Sometimes it just sat in silence, resting, staring and sleeping.
The residents began to slowly drift into the lounge area to assume their usual seats in the lounge area to slowly pass away the routines of another day at Happy Valley Care Center. The Happy Valley Care Center was not happy; it wasn’t in a valley and care center is the rationalized term created by baby-boomers to make them feel better about themselves. It was still a nursing home and a nursing home is still a nursing home by any other name.
Happy Valley was actually a very good nursing home given its mission. Oh yes, there was an occasional smell of urine and the other smells of old people in a state of permanent deterioration, but the food was pretty good and the staff tried to take care of the patients as best they could given their mental and physical condition. Geriatric care staffs should get medals for doing what should probably done by the families. The workers are surrounded by craziness, chaos and death everyday. It takes a special person to not crack under the stress created by this service to humanity. God will remember them.
There were two floors at Happy Valley. The first floor was the nicest and was the place for the people who still had their sanity and could move freely at there own pace. The second floor was a human warehouse for those who would never leave until they were wheeled out on an undertaker’s gurney of the dead. Most, if not all, had DNR (Do Not Resusitate) on their charts. Happy Valley was not home to anybody - it was a place to be stored and to wait for grateful death to enter the room. Some didn’t know or care where they were anyway. If you ever wanted proof that women live longer than men, visit a nursing home sometime. Its about ninety-five percent women.
The scene was repeated everyday as they all waited for the Lord and maybe an occasional visitor. It was amazing how some residents who had living relatives never had visitors. Out of sight-out of mind. The scene was sometimes funny, some times tragic, sometimes there were fights, sometimes stealing other’s food and a lot of yelling and calling out to people who were not there and random counting and babbling about nothing and raging, raging at the night.
There were always a lot of flowers around the lounge and at the nurses station. They helped keep some of the odors of a nursing home under control, but sometimes when the beautiful smell of the flowers was mixed with the horrific smells of the nursing home the results were sometimes more sickening than the smells the flowers were supposed to cover up. Most of the flowers were donated by relatives of deceased residents, who didn’t know what else to do with them. It was a good thought, but generally not noticed by the residents. If they did notice, their thoughts were not on how beautiful the flowers were, but on wondering who died. When someone in the nursing home died, it was handled in a quiet and non-disruptive manner. The daily routine moved on as if nothing happened. There were no tears. The family, if there was one, was notified and the designated undertaker came and wheeled them out under yellow plastic hood that fit over the rails of their gurney of death. Death happened quietly. It was never unexpected. To the residents, someone who was there yesterday was simply gone today. It would be only a passing moment wondering where the person was, but then the routine continued as if nothing ever happened. Death is an everyday occurrence at Happy Valley. For the residents death is a happy event. Maybe that’s where Happy Valley got its name - it does sound better than Death Valley. Death is treated, as it should be, as another event in life.
Jennifer, the geriatric aerobics and activity director for Happy Valley, appeared as usual at ten o’clock in the morning and two o’clock in the afternoon to try to give the residents something to get their mind and body parts to work. She was a happy person who loved her work. A positive attitude is mandatory to be successful in caring for the more than elderly. Her primary job was to get people who really didn’t want to participate to participate. Sometimes there would be a grade school choir singing off key, but that didn’t matter the residents were off key themselves in more ways than one. Every morning was devoted to some geriatric aerobics. Geriatric aerobics really meant trying to get their arms moving. The residents sat in their chairs or stood if they could and listened to Jennifer’s instructions. “Let’s do fifteen arm raises” she called out. One, two, three, four ..... Let’s do five more, she shouted enthusiastically.” Pete was one of the original curmudgeons of Happy Valley and always a reluctant participant in any activity. He had more of his faculties than he let on so that he wouldn’t be bothered by anybody, particularly, Jennifer. This last instruction was the last straw. He lashed out, “ Damn it kid - why didn’t you say twenty in the first place. Didn’t you think anyone would notice?” Actually nobody, but Pete did. God Bless Pete he is still raging at the world to let them know that he “ain’t” dead yet.
Fern noticed through her fogged eyes that a young man approached the desk. “Why that looks like Louis, she thought.” “No, it couldn’t be he’s been dead some eighty years.” But it was.“Oh, Louis why did it have to happen.” “God has never treated me fairly my whole life.” “The only happy time of my life was when we were together. “I remember the first time I saw you.” I was ten and you were fourteen. You didn’t even notice me, but I noticed you. I thought you were the handsomest boy I had ever seen. I never changed that opinion. Then one day when I was sixteen you came into my father’s grocery store and noticed me for the first time even though you came in most everyday. Oh what a glorious romance we had. You graduated from high school and got a job at the Union Traction Company, the interurban street car system that carried its passengers all over Indiana. I remember that moonlight night you proposed marriage, and I accepted. It was the night before the big train wreck up in Wells County that killed 240 people and you. Oh how I cried. Nothing could take away the grief I had. No one ever did.
Why did God let this happen to me? I never found anyone like you even though I tried my whole life. I waited until I was twenty-seven to marry. I married because it was the thing to do. At twenty-seven in those days you were destined to be an old maid. William was seemed like a good man when we married. He worked hard at the foundry. He would come home all sweaty and stinky with a load on that he an the boys would put on at Folkies Tavern. When he was drunk he was mean and he often beat me. I stayed as long as I could bear and then just took off. I became a drunk myself and didn’t sober up until I was fifty. Oh Louis how could God let this happen? How could he ruin my life this way? If only we could have been married life would have been so different.” The second time I married it was for money. I was still a looker, even though I had a few miles on me. Robert was a kind and gentle man, but I didn’t love him. I married him for money and security. He worked and traveled most of the time and I stayed home drinking my wine. We had a couple of kids that turned out to be basically jerks. Hell I’ve even outlived them. I’ve outlived them all. When I think about my life, I guess I was a mean spirited person, always looking out for myself. Oh, Louis we would have been so happy. I tried most everything on the face of the earth to find that state of happiness we shared so long ago. Nothing ever made me as happy as you. Everybody was less than you. God and you made me the miserable person I was and maybe still am.
This long soliloquy tired Fern out, and she dozed for a minute. She only woke up because they called lunch. She never missed her lunch. She always hated lunch. However, if she were asked what she had she could never remember, but it was good. She moved to her assigned seat by herself. She had a habit of stealing other peoples food and often picked a fight with her table mate. Finally she was punished by getting a small table all to herself.I t was more like a baby chair with a tray that locked her in. Actually she liked being by herself so it was not punishment at all.
When lunch was over, she took her slow walk down the corridor to her room for her formal afternoon nap. As she entered her room, she could see the young man who had been standing at the desk earlier was sitting in one chair of the two chairs in the room. It still looked like Louis.
Hello Fern, it’s Louis, the young man said quietly.
“Oh Louis, I thought that was you, but I wasn’t sure. It’s been so long. Why haven’t you come to see me, inquired Fern.”
“Because I’ve been dead for eighty years, Fern, he answered softly.”
“I know that, but that’s not an excuse. Louis, why did God let you die so young and let me live a most unhappy life that has lasted longer than it should?” My life would have been so happy if God had not done this to us. We were so happy.”
“Why have you come after all of these years?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve come to take you to the other side. It is time Fern, but before we go we need to talk about what happened to me, to you and to God. God hasn’t been sure you belong with us in Heaven. Miserable mean persons. who have treated people the way you have treated people all of your life don’t usually get to see the glories of the heavenly place. It is a heavenly and happy place, and we like heavenly and happy people there. He, I should say we, are not sure you qualify, but since you have lived a hundred years that may have already been your hell. God reconsidered, and I am here to help you if we can come to a meaningful resolution as to what your life meant.” Fern, you must see the light.
“What do you mean by that, an understanding about the meaning of my life that God brought on me.”
“Fern, let me take you through it. First of all God’s plan for me was that I have an early death. Even though we were friends and lovers and about to be married and I know my death was not without affect on you, it was my plan and my death. Taken to its ultimate conclusion, my death affected me, not you. We accept the fact that a grieving period is necessary, but then God expects people to get on with their lives. You didn’t do that. You mourned your whole life and made everybody miserable. Thank god they all died before you. God expects people to mourn and then put the tragedies behind them. It doesn’t necessarily mean forget the good times we had, but it does not mean to dwell forever on them.’
“You see what we missed by not being given the time to marry and live happily ever after. It was as you saw it, a picture perfect Camelot where everything was one happy event after another. Let me tell you Fern no one’s life in the whole world has been or ever be one happy event after another. That is has never been God’s plan for anyone. Sure we were happy, but we were young and we had none of life’s real experiences. We were in the heavenly bliss of true love and nothing more. Our marriage would have had all of the ups and downs that any marriage has. Who knows, it might have even ended in divorce. We will never know because we don’t know what God’s plan would have been for the rest of our lives together. It doesn’t matter because it never existed.”
“God expects people to get on with their lives. You didn’t and everyone who came in your path suffered. Others may have viewed you as a very strong woman, but in reality you were weaker than any of them, and you took your unhappiness out on them.”
“Oh, Louis I’m so sorry, but I loved you so much.
“That’s no excuse to be the sorry person you were most of your life.”
“Fern you have lived a full life. Your were beautiful and you were wealthy. You tried everything available both good and bad to find happiness and you never did, because happiness is a state of mind that comes from the inside. Fern in the end the only thing that matters is the love of God and family. Nothing material on earth matter in the long run. It is a person’s family and the love of God.”
Suddenly it felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders and a light went on in the lottery machine. She could see for the first time. She understood that her unhappiness was not because of God or Louis’ death. It was because of herself and her inability to move on with her life, and the dastardly way she made everyone pay for this inability.
Oh, Louis I see. - I really do. I am so sorry. She cried real tears for the first time in a long time. I beg your forgiveness and all the people in my life who I have hurt their forgiveness and the forgiveness of God. Please forgive me. She sobbed and sobbed. The sobbing was the weight continuing to be lifted from her. They were tears of joy. Louis held her quietly and gently hugged her and patted her back. He was as happy as she. His only love would be with him forever. Fern was the last person he would have to help through the passage of this life to the everlasting life of heaven.
“We’ll Fernie you’ll get that chance to ask for all of their forgiveness in person because they are all waiting to meet you when we arrive. It’s time to go.”
Louis took Fern’s arm and they walked out the door and down the hall into the light. Happiness was ahead. A second chance to make it better. And she would be with Louis finally and forever. How could Heaven not be a happy place.
Fern Campbell sat in her usual place on the vinyl love seat that gave the best view through her hazy glaucoma ridden eyes of everything that was going on. Fern had just passed her one-hundredth birthday. She knew she was a hundred most of the time. Campbell was her maiden name. She had a couple of other married names in her life, but when they were all gone she returned to her original name because it reflected the years that as life turned out were the only happy years of her long and miserable life. She always hated the name, Fern. She never thought the fern was a very pretty plant, and she was indeed very pretty in her youth. Her ugliness came with the years of unhappiness she endured and made others endure most of her miserable life. She wondered why her mother didn’t name her Rose, if she had to be named after a plant. She always related her name to seeing a fossilized fern at the Museum of Natural History. She chuckled to herself that that is exactly what she was today, a fossilized Fern. This Fern died a little each day. Her leaves were mostly brown now and those that were still green had liver spots.
Fern had been an unhappy, miserable person most of her life. A bitch would be the proper term in today’s vernacular. Tragedy entered her life at the age of eighteen, when the only love of her life, Louis, was killed. It’s a long time to be a bitch. It made her hundred years even longer. She had see a lot, but nothing ever replaced the love she had for Louis. Her thoughts of her unhappy life always centered around how much different her life would have been if Louis and she had been married as planned. No one ever replaced Louis, no matter how hard they tried. She made everybody live with her personal tragedy all of her life.
Fern’s mind was like a lottery machine. Sometimes her mind would bounce around in the chaos of the ping pong balls in the lottery machine. Sometimes it would spit out thoughts as fast and as clear as the lottery machine spit out the winning numbers. Sometimes it just sat in silence, resting, staring and sleeping.
The residents began to slowly drift into the lounge area to assume their usual seats in the lounge area to slowly pass away the routines of another day at Happy Valley Care Center. The Happy Valley Care Center was not happy; it wasn’t in a valley and care center is the rationalized term created by baby-boomers to make them feel better about themselves. It was still a nursing home and a nursing home is still a nursing home by any other name.
Happy Valley was actually a very good nursing home given its mission. Oh yes, there was an occasional smell of urine and the other smells of old people in a state of permanent deterioration, but the food was pretty good and the staff tried to take care of the patients as best they could given their mental and physical condition. Geriatric care staffs should get medals for doing what should probably done by the families. The workers are surrounded by craziness, chaos and death everyday. It takes a special person to not crack under the stress created by this service to humanity. God will remember them.
There were two floors at Happy Valley. The first floor was the nicest and was the place for the people who still had their sanity and could move freely at there own pace. The second floor was a human warehouse for those who would never leave until they were wheeled out on an undertaker’s gurney of the dead. Most, if not all, had DNR (Do Not Resusitate) on their charts. Happy Valley was not home to anybody - it was a place to be stored and to wait for grateful death to enter the room. Some didn’t know or care where they were anyway. If you ever wanted proof that women live longer than men, visit a nursing home sometime. Its about ninety-five percent women.
The scene was repeated everyday as they all waited for the Lord and maybe an occasional visitor. It was amazing how some residents who had living relatives never had visitors. Out of sight-out of mind. The scene was sometimes funny, some times tragic, sometimes there were fights, sometimes stealing other’s food and a lot of yelling and calling out to people who were not there and random counting and babbling about nothing and raging, raging at the night.
There were always a lot of flowers around the lounge and at the nurses station. They helped keep some of the odors of a nursing home under control, but sometimes when the beautiful smell of the flowers was mixed with the horrific smells of the nursing home the results were sometimes more sickening than the smells the flowers were supposed to cover up. Most of the flowers were donated by relatives of deceased residents, who didn’t know what else to do with them. It was a good thought, but generally not noticed by the residents. If they did notice, their thoughts were not on how beautiful the flowers were, but on wondering who died. When someone in the nursing home died, it was handled in a quiet and non-disruptive manner. The daily routine moved on as if nothing happened. There were no tears. The family, if there was one, was notified and the designated undertaker came and wheeled them out under yellow plastic hood that fit over the rails of their gurney of death. Death happened quietly. It was never unexpected. To the residents, someone who was there yesterday was simply gone today. It would be only a passing moment wondering where the person was, but then the routine continued as if nothing ever happened. Death is an everyday occurrence at Happy Valley. For the residents death is a happy event. Maybe that’s where Happy Valley got its name - it does sound better than Death Valley. Death is treated, as it should be, as another event in life.
Jennifer, the geriatric aerobics and activity director for Happy Valley, appeared as usual at ten o’clock in the morning and two o’clock in the afternoon to try to give the residents something to get their mind and body parts to work. She was a happy person who loved her work. A positive attitude is mandatory to be successful in caring for the more than elderly. Her primary job was to get people who really didn’t want to participate to participate. Sometimes there would be a grade school choir singing off key, but that didn’t matter the residents were off key themselves in more ways than one. Every morning was devoted to some geriatric aerobics. Geriatric aerobics really meant trying to get their arms moving. The residents sat in their chairs or stood if they could and listened to Jennifer’s instructions. “Let’s do fifteen arm raises” she called out. One, two, three, four ..... Let’s do five more, she shouted enthusiastically.” Pete was one of the original curmudgeons of Happy Valley and always a reluctant participant in any activity. He had more of his faculties than he let on so that he wouldn’t be bothered by anybody, particularly, Jennifer. This last instruction was the last straw. He lashed out, “ Damn it kid - why didn’t you say twenty in the first place. Didn’t you think anyone would notice?” Actually nobody, but Pete did. God Bless Pete he is still raging at the world to let them know that he “ain’t” dead yet.
Fern noticed through her fogged eyes that a young man approached the desk. “Why that looks like Louis, she thought.” “No, it couldn’t be he’s been dead some eighty years.” But it was.“Oh, Louis why did it have to happen.” “God has never treated me fairly my whole life.” “The only happy time of my life was when we were together. “I remember the first time I saw you.” I was ten and you were fourteen. You didn’t even notice me, but I noticed you. I thought you were the handsomest boy I had ever seen. I never changed that opinion. Then one day when I was sixteen you came into my father’s grocery store and noticed me for the first time even though you came in most everyday. Oh what a glorious romance we had. You graduated from high school and got a job at the Union Traction Company, the interurban street car system that carried its passengers all over Indiana. I remember that moonlight night you proposed marriage, and I accepted. It was the night before the big train wreck up in Wells County that killed 240 people and you. Oh how I cried. Nothing could take away the grief I had. No one ever did.
Why did God let this happen to me? I never found anyone like you even though I tried my whole life. I waited until I was twenty-seven to marry. I married because it was the thing to do. At twenty-seven in those days you were destined to be an old maid. William was seemed like a good man when we married. He worked hard at the foundry. He would come home all sweaty and stinky with a load on that he an the boys would put on at Folkies Tavern. When he was drunk he was mean and he often beat me. I stayed as long as I could bear and then just took off. I became a drunk myself and didn’t sober up until I was fifty. Oh Louis how could God let this happen? How could he ruin my life this way? If only we could have been married life would have been so different.” The second time I married it was for money. I was still a looker, even though I had a few miles on me. Robert was a kind and gentle man, but I didn’t love him. I married him for money and security. He worked and traveled most of the time and I stayed home drinking my wine. We had a couple of kids that turned out to be basically jerks. Hell I’ve even outlived them. I’ve outlived them all. When I think about my life, I guess I was a mean spirited person, always looking out for myself. Oh, Louis we would have been so happy. I tried most everything on the face of the earth to find that state of happiness we shared so long ago. Nothing ever made me as happy as you. Everybody was less than you. God and you made me the miserable person I was and maybe still am.
This long soliloquy tired Fern out, and she dozed for a minute. She only woke up because they called lunch. She never missed her lunch. She always hated lunch. However, if she were asked what she had she could never remember, but it was good. She moved to her assigned seat by herself. She had a habit of stealing other peoples food and often picked a fight with her table mate. Finally she was punished by getting a small table all to herself.I t was more like a baby chair with a tray that locked her in. Actually she liked being by herself so it was not punishment at all.
When lunch was over, she took her slow walk down the corridor to her room for her formal afternoon nap. As she entered her room, she could see the young man who had been standing at the desk earlier was sitting in one chair of the two chairs in the room. It still looked like Louis.
Hello Fern, it’s Louis, the young man said quietly.
“Oh Louis, I thought that was you, but I wasn’t sure. It’s been so long. Why haven’t you come to see me, inquired Fern.”
“Because I’ve been dead for eighty years, Fern, he answered softly.”
“I know that, but that’s not an excuse. Louis, why did God let you die so young and let me live a most unhappy life that has lasted longer than it should?” My life would have been so happy if God had not done this to us. We were so happy.”
“Why have you come after all of these years?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve come to take you to the other side. It is time Fern, but before we go we need to talk about what happened to me, to you and to God. God hasn’t been sure you belong with us in Heaven. Miserable mean persons. who have treated people the way you have treated people all of your life don’t usually get to see the glories of the heavenly place. It is a heavenly and happy place, and we like heavenly and happy people there. He, I should say we, are not sure you qualify, but since you have lived a hundred years that may have already been your hell. God reconsidered, and I am here to help you if we can come to a meaningful resolution as to what your life meant.” Fern, you must see the light.
“What do you mean by that, an understanding about the meaning of my life that God brought on me.”
“Fern, let me take you through it. First of all God’s plan for me was that I have an early death. Even though we were friends and lovers and about to be married and I know my death was not without affect on you, it was my plan and my death. Taken to its ultimate conclusion, my death affected me, not you. We accept the fact that a grieving period is necessary, but then God expects people to get on with their lives. You didn’t do that. You mourned your whole life and made everybody miserable. Thank god they all died before you. God expects people to mourn and then put the tragedies behind them. It doesn’t necessarily mean forget the good times we had, but it does not mean to dwell forever on them.’
“You see what we missed by not being given the time to marry and live happily ever after. It was as you saw it, a picture perfect Camelot where everything was one happy event after another. Let me tell you Fern no one’s life in the whole world has been or ever be one happy event after another. That is has never been God’s plan for anyone. Sure we were happy, but we were young and we had none of life’s real experiences. We were in the heavenly bliss of true love and nothing more. Our marriage would have had all of the ups and downs that any marriage has. Who knows, it might have even ended in divorce. We will never know because we don’t know what God’s plan would have been for the rest of our lives together. It doesn’t matter because it never existed.”
“God expects people to get on with their lives. You didn’t and everyone who came in your path suffered. Others may have viewed you as a very strong woman, but in reality you were weaker than any of them, and you took your unhappiness out on them.”
“Oh, Louis I’m so sorry, but I loved you so much.
“That’s no excuse to be the sorry person you were most of your life.”
“Fern you have lived a full life. Your were beautiful and you were wealthy. You tried everything available both good and bad to find happiness and you never did, because happiness is a state of mind that comes from the inside. Fern in the end the only thing that matters is the love of God and family. Nothing material on earth matter in the long run. It is a person’s family and the love of God.”
Suddenly it felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders and a light went on in the lottery machine. She could see for the first time. She understood that her unhappiness was not because of God or Louis’ death. It was because of herself and her inability to move on with her life, and the dastardly way she made everyone pay for this inability.
Oh, Louis I see. - I really do. I am so sorry. She cried real tears for the first time in a long time. I beg your forgiveness and all the people in my life who I have hurt their forgiveness and the forgiveness of God. Please forgive me. She sobbed and sobbed. The sobbing was the weight continuing to be lifted from her. They were tears of joy. Louis held her quietly and gently hugged her and patted her back. He was as happy as she. His only love would be with him forever. Fern was the last person he would have to help through the passage of this life to the everlasting life of heaven.
“We’ll Fernie you’ll get that chance to ask for all of their forgiveness in person because they are all waiting to meet you when we arrive. It’s time to go.”
Louis took Fern’s arm and they walked out the door and down the hall into the light. Happiness was ahead. A second chance to make it better. And she would be with Louis finally and forever. How could Heaven not be a happy place.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
The Slow Twitcher!
The last team I made was the fifth and sixth grade basketball team at Emerson Grade School. I was short -- real short - five foot tall when I got out of the eighth grade. I was known as a diligent defensive player. My offensive career game high was four points, so you can see why I was a defensive specialist. The primary reason I played good defense, as my father pointed out to me after watching me play from his seat above the floor of the old YMCA in Marion, was that I guarded my man at all times - even on offense. When the coach told me to stick to my man I did. I was and am good at following instructions from the coach - Mr. Mack, the grade school principal in regular life.
We actually had a pretty good team. We won in the city championship. We played the final at the Marion Coliseum before a Marion Giant game. It was a big thrill. We played Horace Mann Grade School from West Marion. Many guys on Horace Mann would later become some of my best friends in high school.
From the Marion High School class of 1955 prophecy. “Sam Arnold broke his own record in the 100 yard dash -50.1” Unfortunately, that was not far from the truth. Later I learned that I was a victim of slow-twitch muscle fibers. It really is in the genes. A slow twitcher can be an athlete, but no matter how hard a person works they will never be a more than a journeyman jock.
In junior high school we had a “decathlon” competition in the spring semester in connection with physical education class. Points were earned on a scale based on how well you did as an individual in each event. Theoretically, based on increasing strength and maturity, a student should win a bronze medal in the seventh grade, a silver in the eighth and a gold in the ninth. In the late winter months we would do sit-ups, push-ups, chin-ups etc in the gym. As the weather got better in the spring, we moved to outside events, 100 yard dash, standing and running broad-jump, pole vault etc. It all culminated with an all-school field day where you took your final outdoor test to earn points. The decathlon was the basis of the class prophecy statement. I never won any medal in any grade.
My lack of athletic ability did not deter me from my overall love of sports and it didn’t stop me from trying out for baseball and basketball teams right up until my sophomore year in high school when I went out for baseball. That was the last team I tried out for. Naturally, I never survived the first cut in any sport I attempted.
I guess every boy passes that day when they realize there are others that are better. One of the hardest times I had as a parent was to see your child come to the realization that they are not very good in athletics and that they were taking early retirement from team sports. Both of my sons were cursed with the slow-twitch.
Tim loved basketball. Tim continues to be an avid sport’s fan. He is a real student of most all sports. He was and is short. He tried out for the sixth grade team at Saint Vincent’s Grade School in Fort Wayne. When it came time for the final cuts, Tim didn’t make it and everyone in the carpool and his buddies made it. It was difficult for him, and at least as difficult for me. It was his first lesson in understanding that there are disappointments in life. At the time though it was the most important thing in his life. He went on to play association basketball in Fort Wayne and later in Yorba Linda, CA and then he too retired.
Another sad time was in “Y” basketball in Fort Wayne. They had a pretty good team. His Grandpa and Grandma Arnold came up to seem him play. Tim’s team got killed. There is no other way to put it. I don’t remember the final score, but I think they were behind twenty points before they scored their first basket. He was totally embarrassed and even cried. He was mad at me because I joked with him about how bad they played. He didn’t see the humor in it. I guess no kid would that was looking to show Grandma and Grandpa his best. He had a pretty good shot and at least he participated. He hung them up for good after the eighth grade.
Mark loved baseball. He was a die-hard Cub fan. He played little league in Yorba Linda and again in Eden Prairie. He also had the curse of the slow-twitch. He couldn’t field too well, was a weak hitter and above all slow as molasses. At the start of his second season in Eden Prairie he gave it up and quit.
Tim has continued on in his love of sports, while Mark has moved on to movies, computer animation et al.
It is tough when, as a boy, you realize you don’t have the talent. What is important is that you continue to search for something you enjoy and can be at least average. I found that in golf.
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