Category Archives: loss

Thanksgiving

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My dad decided that going to visit his friends in Corvallis, Oregon for Thanksgiving would be a fun adventure.
We were to meet at his place in Oakland, California and then drive up that Thursday morning. He figured that traffic would be light and it would be a lovely ride.
My dad got ideas in his head like this and wouldn’t be dissuaded and it sounded like fun, so I went along with it.

I’m not sure why we didn’t prepare more.
With an 8.5 hour drive one way, it would have made sense to bring snacks.
Instead, we threw a couple of overnight bags together, tossed them in the car, and got on our way.

We started early, so that we would arrive before the 3pm Thanksgiving dinner.
Driving up the coast would have been a beautiful drive, but it also would have taken almost twice as long. Instead, we shot straight up I-5 through Redding, California and Ashland, Oregon. Somewhere around 10am we started to get hungry. After stopping at a couple of closed fast food restaurants, the hunger pangs really started in on our bellies.

Now, my dad suffered from the particular type of low-blood sugar that made him cranky. Very cranky. After an unsuccessful hour of searching for an open eatery, he was getting downright unpleasant.

The closures were confounding us. We felt like some terrible luck had befallen us.
And then, as if lightning had struck the car, at the same time we yelled out, “Because it’s Thanksgiving!” Our eyes connected and we burst out laughing.
Dad almost had to pull over the car he was laughing so hard.

Soon after this realization, we managed to find a gas station that had some candy bars and snacks, so we loaded up on those and headed on to Corvallis to a wonderful Thanksgiving feast and traditional football with some of my dad’s oldest and dearest friends.

I usually spent Thanksgiving with my mom’s side of the family.
This was one of the few Turkey Days that I remember spending with my dad.
It was wonderful.

Happy Thanksgiving, Pop.
I miss you.

regret

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The dictionary definition of “regret” is:
verb (used with object)
1. to feel sorrow or remorse for (an act, fault, disappointment, etc.): He no sooner spoke than he regretted it.
2. to think of with a sense of loss: to regret one’s vanished youth.
noun
3. a sense of loss, disappointment, dissatisfaction, etc.
4. a feeling of sorrow or remorse for a fault, act, loss, disappointment, etc.
5. regrets, a polite, usually formal refusal of an invitation: I sent her my regrets.
6. a note expressing regret at one’s inability to accept an invitation: I have had four acceptances and one regret.

I have been trying to figure out the difference between things in my past I regret vs things in my past I just chalk up to bad decision-making. There is loss, disappointment, sorrow. But all those can exist on their own without regret being attached.

The difference I see is that regret happens when you don’t live up to your own standards.
It is more of a feeling of failing oneself.

I have regrets. I wish I’d helped my dad more.
My pop was an alcoholic and addict who constantly tried very hard to better himself.
He died in 2006 of a prescription drug overdose.

He and I talked often about what he was going through. He was in an out of AA, the last stretch he had a sponsor. I was sympathetic, but my life took precedent. In retrospect, instead of just our conversations about it, I could have done research on alcoholism in order to understand the disease better. I could have been more actively supportive of his AA and asked him more often how that was going.

In 2005, he checked himself into a hospital under a self-imposed suicide watch. Our immediate family in NY counseled me not to go. They said that he didn’t want me to see him in that situation, but they thought I should know. I should have flown to New York anyway.

I know, the cliché “hindsight is 20/20” applies here, but only to a certain degree. I can’t let myself off the hook that easily. Sure, I was where I was, but I don’t think I did the best I could at the moment. Saying otherwise would be relativistic and thus make the case that I did the best I could do with where I was at the time. And I think that’s b.s.
I’m intelligent, resourceful, and try to be considerate. So, why didn’t I put those skills to the test when it came to my dad?

There is the truth that you can’t help someone who isn’t willing to help themselves, but he was working on it.
And I wish I’d been there for him more.

I’m sorry, dad.

progress and sadness

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Yesterday was a day of ups and downs.

It started off great: a buddy came by to help me and it was time to put the wheels with new tires on the KL.

While I was at it, I figured might as well change the sprockets and chain out for the new ones that came with the bike.

The old big sprocket was worn, and I assume the front one was too.

I greased up the wheel bearing and got ready to put it all back together.

One slight problem:

Well, bother.

It was getting too hot outside, so we got out my Ez-up. It was pretty easy. 😉
And installed the front wheel.

The KL is kick-start only, and I’d had no trouble getting it to run. However, I noticed that neither the headlight, nor tailight worked. Oh, neither did the horn. I realized that the battery was in the box ‘o spares. I had thought the seller gave me a spare battery. Nope, he gave me the battery.

I topped it off with some distilled water.

And got it wired into the bike. The neutral switch worked, but headlight and brake/tail light still weren’t working.

I didn’t want to worry about that: the bike is rideable (once I get my rear sprocket in the mail) and I wanted to get cracking on the RD.

On the way to another friend’s shop to use the lathe, the storm started. It’s monsoon season here in Arizona and that means thunder, lightning, and (hopefully) rain. I was excited for a real storm! Lightening! Thunder! Rain!

I saw at least two lightning strikes close to town where flames immediately jumped right up. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so excited about the lightening part of this equation…

There were a 50mph+ gusts of wind that pushed across the area, and then the sweet relief of a torrential downpour.

This rain quenched the two fires that I had witnessed and brought cool relief to the summer desert heat.

I got to make parts! That was so cool.
I’ve never made stuff on a lathe!

This little guy was hanging out.
I guess he’s the shop mascot.

There had been a break in the rain, and then while we were at the shop, it started to pour again.

The RD needs a spacer to line up the front brake caliper. Two little roundy discs, measured precisely to some measurement carefully taken and written down (now where’d I put that piece of paper?)

After a bit of instruction, I was machining like a pro! 😉

I made these!

Okay, just kidding. Those are just a by-product. This is actually the near-final product. (I had to do some sanding to smooth it down before it was really done)

Spacers were complete! Time to eat!

When I got home that night (Sunday), I sat down at the computer to check my Facebook feed.
What I read was devastating.

Lightening had started a fire near Yarnell, Az – a little town of about 650 people 30 miles south of Prescott.
Over 8,000 acres consumed, and 500 houses gone.

19 “Hot Shots” firefighters had died that afternoon.
One of whom was a friend of mine.

There was nothing I could do at the moment. My EMT and Red Cross certifications both expired recently, so I couldn’t volunteer. A friend of mine messaged me that she and her husband saw an alert and were taking a dog crate to the Red Cross Animal Shelter up the road. They came and picked me and my cat carrier up around 11:00pm and we delivered the items to the shelter.

When I finally fell asleep, I slept fitfully.

The Hot Shots crew is an elite group made up of 20 men.
All but one perished in those fiery woods.

Prescott is a small enough community that this tragedy touches us all in some way.
The out-pouring of donations and volunteers and help has been phenomenal, but I’d rather not know that everyone around me is so generous and caring if this is how I find out.

On my way to work this morning, I stopped at Watson Lake.
The morning sky was hazy, as if the sun didn’t want to perkily rise up on this sad morning.
The lake was serene and somber and reflected my mood.

Rest in Peace, Hot Shots.