The Anecdotal Life Part. 122
I found a good bit of advice from an Internet quote for handling the multitude of transitions I've been dealing with; I laughed when I read it. "Reroute all power to the energy shields." Probably from Star Trek. I am in the process of moving the boat to Deal Island which is somewhat north of Crisfield on the Eastern Shore.
I have begun working on what I hope will kindly be called an artist's rendition of an abandoned 1800's house on a hill looking out over Harness Creek here in Annapolis. I have put my name on a list for a studio in the Whitmore Printing and Imaging Building that now stands empty, again, here in Annapolis. I still have my name on file for a studio in Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts.
Our cottage management has shifted from my niece Ginger's able but understandably fatigued shoulders to my two son's and my own shoulders. We three hope we do as well. My sister Peg saved our lives (since she was due for her annual cottage stay during this transition) by working hard to help us organize and investigate all the details necessary for us as managers. Twelve typed pages later, she then took the time to talk and walk us through the plan. Lucky us.
In the middle of all this my brother-in-law, Gene Westerhof, passed away and I, having just gotten back from Michigan, had to suit up, boot up, and go back for the funeral. Now there's a transition for you and it was pretty special. Having had four sisters and having lived with those four in a small house which offered
each one of us one small drawer in the single bathroom the house had, I was dizzy with delight when three brothers-in-law showed up, moved three sisters out, and became , in part, my brothers, my advisers and my heroes.You can't imagine the relief.
They were all servicemen. Gene was a marine.I was amazed to find two vets chatting in the back and more amazed at what they told me. Gene and his best buddy were drafted right after high school and they became squad leaders working side by side with their squads. However, not for long. Gene was sent to Germany and his buddy to Manila. It was here in the telling that I was given few details.
While in Manila, his buddy became ill and somehow Gene came through the hospital room's door loaded up with all sorts of goodies.
Another vet from this Grand Rapids area, who habitually read the obituaries checking to see if other vets, but especially World War two vets, like himself, needed honoring. He came scurrying over to the church basement realizing that not only was Gene a World War II vet, but that he had served with him. We chatted briefly, but I was so thrilled that I was standing there with them.
Then the clincher came. The Honor Guard arrived. I had no idea what was coming or that they were coming and I'd never seen this ceremony. I didn't even know it would be a ceremony. I was so grateful that by then I was sitting down and could lean my elbows on the table. They marched in quietly and stood in front of Gene's picture. They saluted sharply, then turned and began to unfold, inch by inch, in the care-filled fashion of a Chinese tea ceremony, a very large flag, then briefly and silently held it open. Taps was played and then they slowly and painstakingly refolded it until it was a small and compact triangle.. and then it hit me that it had to go to someone. I watched my nephew prepare to stand. It seemed to me he had an imperceptible struggle and I knew in my heart it wasn't from a lack of strength. I knew I probably could never have gotten up, but he made it, controlling his emotions for his father as he went. I couldn't think of anyway to wind all of this up, except to say 9/11 is tomorrow and we all need to stand and remember.
Copyright: September 10, 2011
I have begun working on what I hope will kindly be called an artist's rendition of an abandoned 1800's house on a hill looking out over Harness Creek here in Annapolis. I have put my name on a list for a studio in the Whitmore Printing and Imaging Building that now stands empty, again, here in Annapolis. I still have my name on file for a studio in Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts.
Our cottage management has shifted from my niece Ginger's able but understandably fatigued shoulders to my two son's and my own shoulders. We three hope we do as well. My sister Peg saved our lives (since she was due for her annual cottage stay during this transition) by working hard to help us organize and investigate all the details necessary for us as managers. Twelve typed pages later, she then took the time to talk and walk us through the plan. Lucky us.
In the middle of all this my brother-in-law, Gene Westerhof, passed away and I, having just gotten back from Michigan, had to suit up, boot up, and go back for the funeral. Now there's a transition for you and it was pretty special. Having had four sisters and having lived with those four in a small house which offered
each one of us one small drawer in the single bathroom the house had, I was dizzy with delight when three brothers-in-law showed up, moved three sisters out, and became , in part, my brothers, my advisers and my heroes.You can't imagine the relief.
They were all servicemen. Gene was a marine.I was amazed to find two vets chatting in the back and more amazed at what they told me. Gene and his best buddy were drafted right after high school and they became squad leaders working side by side with their squads. However, not for long. Gene was sent to Germany and his buddy to Manila. It was here in the telling that I was given few details.
While in Manila, his buddy became ill and somehow Gene came through the hospital room's door loaded up with all sorts of goodies.
Another vet from this Grand Rapids area, who habitually read the obituaries checking to see if other vets, but especially World War two vets, like himself, needed honoring. He came scurrying over to the church basement realizing that not only was Gene a World War II vet, but that he had served with him. We chatted briefly, but I was so thrilled that I was standing there with them.
Then the clincher came. The Honor Guard arrived. I had no idea what was coming or that they were coming and I'd never seen this ceremony. I didn't even know it would be a ceremony. I was so grateful that by then I was sitting down and could lean my elbows on the table. They marched in quietly and stood in front of Gene's picture. They saluted sharply, then turned and began to unfold, inch by inch, in the care-filled fashion of a Chinese tea ceremony, a very large flag, then briefly and silently held it open. Taps was played and then they slowly and painstakingly refolded it until it was a small and compact triangle.. and then it hit me that it had to go to someone. I watched my nephew prepare to stand. It seemed to me he had an imperceptible struggle and I knew in my heart it wasn't from a lack of strength. I knew I probably could never have gotten up, but he made it, controlling his emotions for his father as he went. I couldn't think of anyway to wind all of this up, except to say 9/11 is tomorrow and we all need to stand and remember.
Copyright: September 10, 2011
posted by The Anecdotal Life at 6:14 AM
0 comments
