Ooops...the link I sent in the previous post is no longer active. To see the story, click here. After the page loads, you will see on a video still in the right-hand corner of the page above the title Land of 10,000 Stories: A Cutting Edge. Click on the arrow and it will play.
Sorry 'bout that!
A couple of days ago I mentioned that my Dad was going to be featured in a news segment airing on Thursday, May 7. The piece did indeed run last night, and it turned out great. The whole process of watching this piece get put together was a lot of fun, and even my modest Dad got a kick out of it.
The backstory. The local NBC affiliate, KARE-11, periodically runs a segment called 'Boyd Huppert's Land of 10,000 Stories', a play on words of Minnesota's motto 'Land of 10,000 Lakes'. These stories are feel-good, heartwarming stories about every-day people around the state. What makes these segments so good is Boyd Huppert. He is an Emmy-award winning reporter who has also won four National Edward R. Murrow Awards and a National Headliner Grand Award. In other words, he's a damn good story-teller who could make watching paint dry a compelling event.
Last month my Dad happened to mention to me that he had been seeing his barber Jim for 50 years, to which I responded 'Wow. That sounds like a story Boyd Huppert would like'. I always knew that Jim the Barber was more than a barber to my Dad. I couldn't imagine the depth and breadth of stories they shared together over the past 50 years, and so I sent Boyd a 'pitch email' about the relationship shared between this particular barber and client.
Boyd loved it...and the rest, as they say, is history. The piece was filmed last week, first at my Dad's office, then at the baber shop, and finally and my Dad's home. The piece can be viewed by clicking here. There are a bunch of videos on the right of the screen. Scroll you mouse over them until you see Land of 10,000 Stories: A Cutting Edge. Not the most ideal way to share this with you, but they keep moving the story around on the site!
Enjoy...if you can find it!
A quick entry to alert all you locals to tune into KARE-11 News on Thursday, May 7 at 10:00 p.m. Boyd Huppert's Land of 10,000 Stories segment will be featuring my Dad...a story that was pitched to Boyd by yours truly.
The filming took place last Wednesday and the station is already airing promos for the piece. Should be good. Should be fun. After it airs, I'll post the video here.
We subscribe to a magazine called The Week which is kind of like a Cliff's Notes for the news. It's delivered to our home on a weekly basis, and essentially encapsulates all the week's events as written by editors and reporters from all over the world. And it covers so much more than the news...it includes music and theater reviews, art exhibit openings, restaurant reviews, health news, etc. It's a fun, short read and in every issue they have a segment called 'The Last Word'. This is usually a shortened version of a story that appeared elsewhere like the NY Times Magazine, Vanity Fair, Harper's, etc.
The latest issue's 'The Last Word' is titled 'The True Nature of Mourning' written by a woman who's mother died this past December. Although I read it with great interest, I found it to be more technical than I had hoped. But, this writer did mention two things that really, really resonated with me: first, she said that although she appreciated everyone's well wishes and offerings that time will make her grief better, she didn't want her grief to subside...she wasn't ready. And second, in the time since her mom died, she has found herself hiking alone in the desert, feeling her mom's presence, and being moved to tears.
In the first time in a long time, I felt like I could totally relate to what someone else was saying and feeling regarding a huge loss like the death of a mother. Granted, I found much of the article to be uninspiring, but these two observations she mentioned were right in line with my own experience. OK, so I haven't been hiking alone in the desert but I do recall my spring, summer and fall runs outside last year. It was during this time...these three miles of running by myself with nothing but my iPod...that I felt really close to my mom. And after every run, I would walk around our cul-de-sac to cool down with tears streaming down my face. I had to wait to stop crying before I entered the house because I didn't want to have to explain to Ethan why I was crying. The answer was so much more than 'I miss Nana.'
And then there is the grief and the feeling that I didn't want it to subside. I was scared of what it would mean to 'get on with things' and not have that nagging pain. I was so glad to read that I was not the only one with this sentiment, and that maybe that feeling isn't as crazy as it appears to be on the surface. Sure, the sharpness of the pain has dulled and it isn't as immediate as it once was, but it is still ever so present.
Lately, however, it has been more pronounced than in the recent past and I'm not sure why. Someone once told me that the second year after a loss can be even harder than the first year, and I remember thinking 'there's no way.' But in recent days and weeks, I can see how at times, that might be true. One day I can accept her death, the next day I cannot. It's weird. I guess going through the milestones once is not enough to make the emptiness go away.
We had our second Passover without her tonight. In years past, I would get a phone call from my Mom weeks in advance of whatever holiday was approaching asking if we were going to be in town, and if so, that we would do it at their place. I miss those phone calls. We'd have the traditional holiday meals...matzo ball soup, brisket, kugel, etc., and I always knew that to my Mom, the best part of the holiday was being together. I miss her appreciation for the holiday and her exuberance of having us all there. Of course, it's nice that we got together tonight - as we have at other holidays over the past year - to remember the Jews' exodus from Egypt and eat brisket. But I must admit that, like other holidays over the last 15 months, something (or someone) was missing.
And so it is.
OK, so again a long stretch of time has passed since my last posting. I have somewhat of a love-hate relationship with this blog. I hate it for obvious reasons...not sure I would be doing this if my Mom were still alive. And if I were doing this, the topic would be drastically different. I love it because I am finding that I love to write, and this blog has been very therapeutic for me. Still, it can be difficult to find the time and energy to sit down and write away. It seems when I have the time, I'm lacking the energy or vice-versa. The stars need to be aligned just so to really make it happen. Regardless, I'm here writing now.
But don't get too excited. I don't think this will be a long entry. I do, however, want to mention the 2009 Twin Cities Race for the Cure, which is taking place on Mother's Day, May 10. We are forming the team Jan's Hope Chest again this year and would be honored if you walked with us in memory of Mom, if you are planning on walking in the Race. I know the registration brochures have gone out in the mail, and you can register that way. Or you can click here. Either way, be sure you join the team Jan's Hope Chest.
It's nice to start to think in the concrete sense about things taking place in the Spring. This winter has been long and brutal, but hopefully we are turning the corner and will soon have winter behind us. We are celebrating Sasha's 2nd birthday tomorrow (March 3)...and then a week later the four of us will head down to South Beach for a week and hang out with my Dad. It will be so nice to get out of here for a while.
My Dad, Stacey and I have started the incredibly arduous task of going through Mom's stuff...this is going to be a slow-going process. A couple of weeks ago, Stacey and I each took some stuff home that we wanted; one of the things I took is this awesome, gold rope bracelet of Mom's that I have started wearing. The other day, Sasha was sitting on my lap and playing with it. She wrapped her fingers around it and said 'Nana'. I don't know how she got that...I really don't remember telling her it was Nana's, maybe I did. That doesn't matter though...because every day I have it on, she takes it in her hands and says 'Nana'. It warms my heart.
Obviously, a lot of other stuff has happened in the two months since I last posted an entry. I feel as if I sound like a broken record when I say we are trying to make progress with Mom's book...but we are. And there are some other things potentially brewing...but those details are for another time. For now, I am going to sign off and listen to Sasha through the monitor sing 'Happy Birthday' as she drifts off to sleep...
It seems hard to believe that last January 8 was the last time I said "I love you" to my Mom and she answered back. Less than 24 hours after that exchange, I held her hand and watched as she took her last breath, on January 9. And now, here it is, January 8, 2009 and a whole year has passed. It has been a tough year, a bitter-sweet year, a year of adjustments, a surprisingly fast year and a year which, at times, felt like life was happening in a vacuum.
I don't really know how I feel that tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my Mom's death. Everything about everything happening last year at this time is still so vivid and fresh in my mind, kind of like it just happened. But it didn't just happen, and that is so apparent in my life. We have adjusted, as best as we can, to life without Mom and we have established a 'new normal' within the family. To me, there still is a void when we all get together as a family, which is often, yet at the same time it seems that my family has grown closer as a result of Mom's death. Despite the circumstances, I am happy about that.
I remember when she first died, people would tell me it gets easier with time. I'm sure that is true; it has to be easier than this past year was. My fear, however, is that when it does seem easier, I will have forgotten. I know it sounds silly but right now I don't want it to be easier because in my mind, that 'ease' equates to something I don't want it to equate to. I felt this very poignantly on New Year's Day.
On New Year's Day this year, I was so incredibly sad and when I had a chance to reflect as to why, I realized that I didn't want to leave 2008...because I felt that I was leaving Mom. She died in 2008 and any distance from that year to me meant distance from her. Again, I know it is silly and something that I need to deal with but as I said, that's how it is for me right now.
That's not to say things haven't gotten easier. Some days are a breeze, but I have others that are difficult. Grief is weird like that.
And so it is. I have no idea how tomorrow will be for me. I know that I will be thinking about what was going on one year ago, and I am sure I will remark that I can't believe a whole year has passed. Other than that, I don't know. I plan on going to DQ and having a Blizzard because Mom loved Blizzards (and could eat them on a daily basis). I think that will help me feel closer to her.
I'll let you know how it goes and how I progress. And for those of you who are interested, her Yahrzeit is on January 28 this year (3 Shevat).
The day my Mom died last January, we got Ethan the book ''The Berenstain Bears Lose A Friend'. It's a story about Sister Bear's pet, Goldie the Goldfish, and what happened when Goldie died one day. We wanted something that we thought Ethan would be able to relate to on the topic of death, and when we read it to him we talked about how all living things - from people to goldfish - die. This was his bedtime book of choice for quite a while, and each time we got to the part about Goldie being in the 'Underwater Castle in the Sky', he asked if Nana was there with her, and was happy to learn that she was.
This book had taken a long hiatus, resting on the bookshelf for many months until just recently. It is back in the rotation and when we read it to Ethan (and Sasha, if she can sit through it long enough), we don't discuss it at the length the way we did earlier in the year. Sometimes, Ethan will ask when he can get a goldfish and what would happen if it dies so we talk about that. But Nana, for the most part, stays out of the conversation.
Earlier this week as I was getting dinner ready for the kids, Ethan came to me with a stuffed 'Grinch' that my Mom had given him two years ago when she was in the hospital. He was holding it tightly and told me it was a nice Grinch because it has a heart (it literally has a red heart sewn onto it). I said "Do you remember who gave you that Grinch?" and he said "Yes, Nana." I then told him that the Grinch has a heart because Nana loves him very, very much. This started a conversation not only about Nana, but Goldie the Goldfish as well:
Ethan: Is Nana with Goldie?
Me: Yes she is, and she is taking really good care of her. But even though we don't see Nana anymore, she is still with us. And she still loves you very, very much.
Ethan: Goldie died.
Me: Yes she did. But she lived a really good life.
Ethan: Nana died, too.
Me: Yes she did. And she lived a really good life, too.
Ethan: But how can Nana be with Goldie? Goldie is wrapped in a handkerchief.
In the story, Mama Bear wraps Goldie in a handkerchief. Sister Bear takes the handkerchief, puts in a small box, goes out to the backyard and buries the box with Goldie in it. I told Ethan that even though Goldie is wrapped in a handkerchief, she and Nana are still together. He gave me a look, and then he changed the topic.
It was a nice moment with Ethan, even though it was fleeting. It made me realize that although we don't talk about Nana every day, she is always with us and he still remembers her. And in his own way, he is trying to relate what happened to Sister Bear and Goldie with what happened to Nana. His 4-year-old mind is at work.
Arghhhhhh! I am so incredibly frustrated.
As you know, my dad, sister and I have been working on ways to promote my Mom's book. It has been very slow-going because we all got busy with our lives, and we weren't really sure what or how we were going to promote it. We have a lot of ideas but just not the time to implement them all.
One crucial aspect of whatever marketing plan we have is a website. We look at a website as a place to send people who were looking for information, not necessarily as a tool that we are going to initially use in a full-blown web marketing campaign. My dad and I met with a web designer way back in September; it turns out this guy also has experience promoting books, so we were very pleased with what he said he could offer us. Well, fast-forward three-and-a-half months and I'll tell you what he can offer us: NOTHING. Hence, the title of this post.
I do not believe in a public bashing, so I won't mention this guy by name; I'll just call him Louis (but if you want to know who he is, drop me an email and I'll tell you about my experiences with him). My dad and I first met with Louis in the beginning of September - he came to me as a referral. He is a small business owner who designs websites as well as invents things. I don't know much about his work - and I didn't know much about his working style then. We had a good talk and he gave us some decent ideas of how to promote the book. My dad told him that we were looking for sponsors and Louis told us he'd be our first; he offered to design our website for free. Of course, my dad offered - and wanted - to pay him, but Louis declined. He wanted to donate the site to us.
I took the next week or so drafting the components of the site and emailed it - along with just a couple of pictures - to Louis. At first, the communication was open and flowing, but as time went on, I noticed that when asked for an update on the site, or the status on when it can be launched, it took him days to get back to me.
He eventually did get a 'sketch' of the site to me and I thought it looked great. I was excited that things were moving along and we would have a professionally-looking website to act as an 'anchor' of information. I was waiting for the site to be complete - and online - before I started sending out press releases to the local media, etc. But as time went on, I found myself waiting and waiting.
Louis and I did get together in early November; he wanted to talk to me about some cool things we could add to the site, such as ring-tones to download. I thought that was fine...but it was the site itself that I was interested in. I wanted to get it online, tie it into the blog and then talk about next steps. At this meeting, Louis also asked for more photos of my Mom, which I sent to him the following week. Since then, I hadn't heard from him.
Until now. I am not going to get into the details, but I tapped Louis to work on a piece of collateral for something completely different, that has nothing to do with Hands Off My Hope! When it came to light that what he produced was not what we were looking for, I simply told him that we were going to complete the project ourselves even though we had paid him. Apparently, Louis didn't like this answer and he asked for more specific feedback. I emailed him that what he provided was not what we asked for and we were going to finish it ourselves. Apparently this bruised Louis' ego a bit too much.
About four hours after this correspondence, he sent me the Hands Off My Hope! website files and told me never to contact him again. I couldn't believe it...I was flabbergasted. Actually, I was pissed. I couldn't believe that after 3 1/2 months of working and waiting, he was cutting this project loose. Actually, I don't mind that we are not working with him; I'm rather happy about that. What bothers me is that we wasted all of this time waiting on him...and he doesn't have the professionally courtesy to finish what he told us he would do because I hurt his feelings on a completely unrelated topic. It's rather unbelievable to me.
I think that what bothers me the most is that in this case, I did not follow my instincts. When I first met Louis and saw his work, I was a bit 'iffy' about his abilities. And during that meeting my dad and I had with him, I remember thinking 'this guy is full of shit.' He seemed to be all talk and no action. I didn't say anything to my dad about it and decided to give Louis the benefit of the doubt. After all, my dad seemed fairly impressed and my dad's opinion carries a lot of weight with me. Clearly though, my instinct was right, as it usually is.
I'm sure there are a lot of lessons to learn in this episode with Louis, but I'm really not going to play and replay the elements in my head. But what I will remember is what I've always known...and that is to trust my instincts.
So if anyone knows the name of a web designer please let me know!
This is a question that really doesn't bring up a whole lot of debate. Those people who are used to a PC can't understand why anyone would want to use a Mac, and of course, those Mac loyalists cannot even fathom sitting down in front of a PC and being productive. All of my 'computer life' I have used an PC and have become used to the Windows world. So, in June of 2007 when my Mom finally decided that her 5-year-old laptop had indeed died, she wondered if maybe her next laptop should be a Mac.
I remember she came over one day and asked me "Should I get another Dell...or do you think maybe I should get a Mac?" I was a bit taken aback by the question, but then answered robotically "PC. You need to get another PC." I don't why I responded the way I did and was so closed-minded about my mom getting a Mac. She then went on to say that she had talked to a lot of people and most of them said that she should get a Mac. Again, my PC-loyalty got the better of me and told her "yeah, but you are comfortable on a PC. There might be some differences on the Mac that throw you off." Clearly I wasn't giving my mom enough credit with her computer skills, but in all fairness I was basing that on the many questions she had asked me over the years about her Dell.
Well, long story not so long - she ended up getting a Mac. And she went all out when she bought her MacBook. She added all sorts of peripherals (isn't that the technical word?) and could have been labeled the ideal Mac customer that is every salesperson's dream. Oh, she bought training, too.
Why am I bringing this up now, you wonder. Because as I post this entry I must admit I am using my mom's brand new Mac. My trusty PC laptop crapped out on me last week and is currently in 'the shop' while I am awaiting it's diagnosis and prognosis. Very frustrating. And in the meantime, I need a computer. This poor Mac got maybe two good months of use before it sat idle for months in my parents' office. I used it occasionally when I went over to my dad's throughout this past year, and last week when I wondered how I would get through the day without access to a computer, I remembered I wouldn't have to.
I told my dad that I didn't 'want' the computer, just access to it. He said I could have it because it's not
doing much good just sitting in his office. He doesn't use it and doesn't want to use it. Remember, he still refers to computers as 'machines.'
I must admit, I am really liking the Mac. It not only looks good, it performs well. I've had no problems with it whatsoever, and it is overall easier than my PC, which is a bit 'clunky' in its performance. I do want - and need - my laptop to be OK because there are bunches and bunches of files and pictures on it that I want and need. But assuming it comes back from the shop tuned and raring to go, I don't know if I'll be able to hand this Mac back over to my dad.
And in the few days that I have been using this computer, I have been thinking about my Mom and how happy I am that in this instance, she did not listen to me and take my advice.
I realize I haven't posted in a couple of weeks. I'm kind of feeling uninspired and every time I think I should post something, I wonder what I would say. It seems that the holidays arrived earlier than usual this year with the decorations going up in some places right after Halloween. And with every reminder that they are indeed coming, I realized more and more how happy I will be when they are over.
But now here it is, the day before Thanksgiving. There is no escape anymore...especially since tomorrow Andy will be making the Thanksgiving turkey at our house that we will (hopefully) enjoy at my dad's (just kidding Andy...I know it will be GREAT!). I am trying to get into the "holiday spirit" but I can't seem to get there and I don't want to force myself into it.
One night last week as my dad and I had our nightly phone chat, I told him that I am really not looking forward to Thanksgiving this year. Like a good father, he asked "why." I was kind of surprised by that, wanting him to simply empathize with me rather than prompt me to talk about it, but regardless I answered "because...I just think it's going to be really hard." He said "Yes, it is going to be hard...but it's important that we are doing it." Once again, my dad proved to me why I love him so much with his pragmatic and simple answer. It is important that we are doing it.
My family always does Thanksgiving with the Fallek's, close friends of the family, and we always trade off doing it at their place and at my parents' place; last year it was at the Fallek's. Each year before we eat, we go around the table and say what we are thankful for - this is a tradition my mom began many years ago. Last year was especially poignant, given the health of my mom, yet she did manage to announce that "next year we will have Thanksgiving at our place." And so this year we will be at my dad's.
Obviously there will be a void, an absence at the table and a tone to the day. A friend who lost her mom 29 years ago told me that she will be wearing a piece of her mother's jewelry tomorrow in order to feel close to her, and she suggested that I do the same. I thought that was a good idea, and I will, but I don't know if it will settle my uneasiness for the day, and calm my eagerness for the day to be over.
My mom always loved Thanksgiving and the holidays and now we are faced to get through these milestones without her. Such is the nature of the beast. Regardless of how important it is that we do it, as my dad says, I am still looking forward to the dishes being done, the table being put back to normal, and the leftovers being eaten.
