I will, no doubt, draw scorn for this, but I just can't get the thought out of my head.
I've been seeing all these women on Facebook posting colors today, to signify their bra color in an effort to increase breast cancer awareness. There can't be enough awareness of the issue as far as I'm concerned. I hope my daughter and the women in her family never have to face that threat. I lost an aunt to breast cancer and have a friend who had quite an ordeal fighting that disease just a year or so ago.
But, try as I might to squelch it in certain company, I'm still a guy. And I had a thought.
Wouldn't the whole Facebook color status post thing be a lot more interesting if the women posting their colors also posted a picture as proof? There could be some real creativity demonstrated in the self portraits that came out of that exercise. How much to show. How much not to show. Maybe some abstracts. Fabric and lace. Maybe a hint of flesh. It could be pretty cool, don't you think?
On second thought I have too many relatives on Facebook now. I don't need, or want, to see their bras. That would just be creepy.
But all non-relatives, feel free to take part.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The man with the long beard makes an unlikely Santa Claus
I haven't written a post here in about two and a half months and that post was about a trip my dad and I made to Nebraska for his brother's funeral, and in the time since that post was made two of the people we saw on that trip have also died.
The latest call came today. My dad called me while I was at work. He never does that. My parents rarely call, but when they do it's almost always bad news.
When I got the call in early November about my Dad's brother in-law Doug dying, that was not too much of a shock. He was not in good shape when we saw him in September. He was 86 and in failing health. It was sad, but not a stunning development.
One of the reasons I felt it was important to make that trip was to see and spend some time with family because I knew some members of the family might not be there the next time I was able to get back there. My dad is the youngest of his siblings and my parents are now both in their early 70s. I think I've only been back to Nebraska four times in the last 27 years. All four of those trips were for funerals. There have been funerals I've missed too, like my grandmother's. I'm not a big fan of funerals. I'd skip my own if I could, but missing Grandma's was hard, even though I had said a tearful goodbye to her when she left Oregon for Nebraska not long before her passing. I didn't go back for my Uncle Doug's funeral either, but was glad I got to sit and talk with him and hear him my dad share stories just a few weeks before he died.
The call today threw me for a bit of loop though in a very different way. Dad was calling to tell me that my cousin, Mike, had died. I have a lot of cousins that are quite a bit older than me, but Mike is not one of them. He's actually younger. It's also upsetting because a member of my family is gone and I didn't really know him that well, and now I never will. Sadly, there are far too many members of my family that I don't know very well. Too may years and too many miles separate our time spent together.
The amazing thing I experienced on the last couple of trips to see family is that the years and the miles didn't seem to matter. The family bonds are still there.
My cousin Mike served as host on the last trip my dad and I made to Nebraska together. Mike gave up his bed during our stay and he made sure we felt at home. He also helped us catch up on the happenings within the family and took us out on the town one evening.
I was quite impressed with Mike. His mother has been quite ill, recovering from a stroke, and Mike has been taking care of her. He had become her full-time caregiver. I remember asking myself: "Could I do that?"
I didn't know the answer, if push really came to shove. The best I could come up with was maybe. And then again, maybe not.
Mike had also cultivated a distinctive look for himself with an amazingly long beard. He looked like he was auditioning for a spot in the ZZ Top lineup. I kept expecting him to flip it over his shoulder, or swoosh the hairs back and forth in dramatic fashion like Pai Mei in Kill Bill Vol. 2. How did he manage to ignore that thing dangling from his chin?
I know Mike had a keen interest in music and played guitar, but I never heard him play. There is much I don't know about him. Over the years I've been much closer to some of his siblings. His sister Tammy was my babysitter when I was young. Mike's brother Bill was a little older than me, but I always looked up to him, almost like a big brother. I always wanted to hang out with Billy. I wanted to be like Billy. He just seemed so cool to me. Mike's brother Randy was older still, and I didn't know him as well when I was young, but we have got to know either other quite well in more recent years. Randy moved in with me for a while when I was living and working in Hermiston about 20 years ago. He is funny and can always make me laugh. Because he was older, and had maintained his ties to Nebraska, even over years of working in Oregon, he knew more about the older generations of the family. He was my connection to the family. Their oldest brothers, Steve and Keith, were already out of the house by the time of my earliest memories. They were more like uncles than cousins.
When we were children, I didn't spend much time with Mike. He was the same age as my brother Ron and I felt too old, too mature to hang out with the younger kids. Ironically, I did every thing I could to hang out with Bill, who was about as many years older than me as I was older than Mike. Bill was much more magnanimous with his time than I was with mine.
I regret that now. The regrets are piling up with age. I used to arrogantly tell a former girlfriend that I had no regrets. It may have been true then, back in my college days, but then there wasn't much life lived to realize the mistakes that would haunt me. Now the haunting spirits of regret emerge with frightening regularity.
I got an e-mail from Mike a few days ago. It included a whole bunch of pictures of a guy who builds scale model airplanes out of metal. I thought about writing back just to see how things were going. But I was annoyed too because all the photos attached to the message were clogging up my e-mail program and it was taking forever to see the text of the message and the photos. In frustration I just tossed the message into the trash and never hit the reply button. Hindsight, being what it is, I certainly regret that now.
If I could go back a few days, I would write to Mike and say something, anything. And if I could go back to those college days I would not be so boastful about lack of regret with a certain young woman. Isn't that how it goes? Once so proud of a lack of regrets, now here I am facing regrets about things said and things left unsaid.
It's easy to forget that I come from a big family. I'm glad I got to go back to Nebraska in September to spend some time with Mike and Uncle Doug and so many other members of both sides of my family who I now so rarely see. We don't get all the time we want to do all the things we want with all the people we want. I'm thankful for the time I got and for the chance to learn how strong family ties can remain, in spite of time and distance.
Grieving can be a lonely experience, but it's mitigated when it's shared with others close to you. I'm so sorry for the loss Mike's death will mean to family and friends, particularly to his mother who has been able to live in her own home with Mike's help.
I really haven't been looking forward to Christmas this year for a very pathetic reason. Finances are tight and I am not going to be able to buy gifts for as many people as I would like to and won't be able to spend as much on the gifts that are given. I was even thinking about not going to see my parents and brothers to avoid any awkwardness over gifts or the lack thereof. Silly. And sad that it takes the loss of a cousin to remind me of what I should already know. Certainly there will be a some grieving over this holiday season, but I shall attempt to make this also a season for celebrating life and family -- those I will be fortunate enough to see for Christmas, those far away, and those gone but not forgotten.
Mike, Steve and Keith West at graveside services for Clyde West in September 2009 at the Mitchell, Neb., cemetery.
The latest call came today. My dad called me while I was at work. He never does that. My parents rarely call, but when they do it's almost always bad news.
When I got the call in early November about my Dad's brother in-law Doug dying, that was not too much of a shock. He was not in good shape when we saw him in September. He was 86 and in failing health. It was sad, but not a stunning development.
One of the reasons I felt it was important to make that trip was to see and spend some time with family because I knew some members of the family might not be there the next time I was able to get back there. My dad is the youngest of his siblings and my parents are now both in their early 70s. I think I've only been back to Nebraska four times in the last 27 years. All four of those trips were for funerals. There have been funerals I've missed too, like my grandmother's. I'm not a big fan of funerals. I'd skip my own if I could, but missing Grandma's was hard, even though I had said a tearful goodbye to her when she left Oregon for Nebraska not long before her passing. I didn't go back for my Uncle Doug's funeral either, but was glad I got to sit and talk with him and hear him my dad share stories just a few weeks before he died.
The call today threw me for a bit of loop though in a very different way. Dad was calling to tell me that my cousin, Mike, had died. I have a lot of cousins that are quite a bit older than me, but Mike is not one of them. He's actually younger. It's also upsetting because a member of my family is gone and I didn't really know him that well, and now I never will. Sadly, there are far too many members of my family that I don't know very well. Too may years and too many miles separate our time spent together.
The amazing thing I experienced on the last couple of trips to see family is that the years and the miles didn't seem to matter. The family bonds are still there.
My cousin Mike served as host on the last trip my dad and I made to Nebraska together. Mike gave up his bed during our stay and he made sure we felt at home. He also helped us catch up on the happenings within the family and took us out on the town one evening.
I was quite impressed with Mike. His mother has been quite ill, recovering from a stroke, and Mike has been taking care of her. He had become her full-time caregiver. I remember asking myself: "Could I do that?"
I didn't know the answer, if push really came to shove. The best I could come up with was maybe. And then again, maybe not.
Mike had also cultivated a distinctive look for himself with an amazingly long beard. He looked like he was auditioning for a spot in the ZZ Top lineup. I kept expecting him to flip it over his shoulder, or swoosh the hairs back and forth in dramatic fashion like Pai Mei in Kill Bill Vol. 2. How did he manage to ignore that thing dangling from his chin?
I know Mike had a keen interest in music and played guitar, but I never heard him play. There is much I don't know about him. Over the years I've been much closer to some of his siblings. His sister Tammy was my babysitter when I was young. Mike's brother Bill was a little older than me, but I always looked up to him, almost like a big brother. I always wanted to hang out with Billy. I wanted to be like Billy. He just seemed so cool to me. Mike's brother Randy was older still, and I didn't know him as well when I was young, but we have got to know either other quite well in more recent years. Randy moved in with me for a while when I was living and working in Hermiston about 20 years ago. He is funny and can always make me laugh. Because he was older, and had maintained his ties to Nebraska, even over years of working in Oregon, he knew more about the older generations of the family. He was my connection to the family. Their oldest brothers, Steve and Keith, were already out of the house by the time of my earliest memories. They were more like uncles than cousins.
When we were children, I didn't spend much time with Mike. He was the same age as my brother Ron and I felt too old, too mature to hang out with the younger kids. Ironically, I did every thing I could to hang out with Bill, who was about as many years older than me as I was older than Mike. Bill was much more magnanimous with his time than I was with mine.
I regret that now. The regrets are piling up with age. I used to arrogantly tell a former girlfriend that I had no regrets. It may have been true then, back in my college days, but then there wasn't much life lived to realize the mistakes that would haunt me. Now the haunting spirits of regret emerge with frightening regularity.
I got an e-mail from Mike a few days ago. It included a whole bunch of pictures of a guy who builds scale model airplanes out of metal. I thought about writing back just to see how things were going. But I was annoyed too because all the photos attached to the message were clogging up my e-mail program and it was taking forever to see the text of the message and the photos. In frustration I just tossed the message into the trash and never hit the reply button. Hindsight, being what it is, I certainly regret that now.
If I could go back a few days, I would write to Mike and say something, anything. And if I could go back to those college days I would not be so boastful about lack of regret with a certain young woman. Isn't that how it goes? Once so proud of a lack of regrets, now here I am facing regrets about things said and things left unsaid.
It's easy to forget that I come from a big family. I'm glad I got to go back to Nebraska in September to spend some time with Mike and Uncle Doug and so many other members of both sides of my family who I now so rarely see. We don't get all the time we want to do all the things we want with all the people we want. I'm thankful for the time I got and for the chance to learn how strong family ties can remain, in spite of time and distance.
Grieving can be a lonely experience, but it's mitigated when it's shared with others close to you. I'm so sorry for the loss Mike's death will mean to family and friends, particularly to his mother who has been able to live in her own home with Mike's help.
I really haven't been looking forward to Christmas this year for a very pathetic reason. Finances are tight and I am not going to be able to buy gifts for as many people as I would like to and won't be able to spend as much on the gifts that are given. I was even thinking about not going to see my parents and brothers to avoid any awkwardness over gifts or the lack thereof. Silly. And sad that it takes the loss of a cousin to remind me of what I should already know. Certainly there will be a some grieving over this holiday season, but I shall attempt to make this also a season for celebrating life and family -- those I will be fortunate enough to see for Christmas, those far away, and those gone but not forgotten.
Mike, Steve and Keith West at graveside services for Clyde West in September 2009 at the Mitchell, Neb., cemetery.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Heading back up the Oregon Trail
My dad and I headed back to Nebraska for his oldest brother's funeral last week. It was good to see family, but I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Happy birthday, baby brother
Tuesday, Aug. 25, is my brother Dean's birthday.
The year Dean was born was an eventful one for our little branch of the West Family Tree. As my mom was getting ready for labor, my dad was buying a business in the thriving metropolis of Echo, Ore.
About a month after Dean was born, my dad piled all of our belongings into a moving truck in Western Nebraska and then he piled my mom, brother Ron, me and newborn Dean into a small plane and flew us to our new home in Oregon. We landed literally right outside our new backdoor. Our new home, on a small private airstrip out in the country, was also the home base for my dad's new business.
I doubt my brother remembers the trip. I was about a month shy of my 8th birthday. I can't say I remember a lot of it myself either.
It's hard to believe all of that was 36 years ago.
I was trying to figure out what to do for my brother for his birthday. My first thought was to shave part of his head, so he was a hairstyle more like the ones sported by my dad, brother Ron and I. But since I won't actually see my brother on his birthday, I opted instead to embarrass him long distance with a few photos from his recent past.
Happy Birthday Dean!
The year Dean was born was an eventful one for our little branch of the West Family Tree. As my mom was getting ready for labor, my dad was buying a business in the thriving metropolis of Echo, Ore.
About a month after Dean was born, my dad piled all of our belongings into a moving truck in Western Nebraska and then he piled my mom, brother Ron, me and newborn Dean into a small plane and flew us to our new home in Oregon. We landed literally right outside our new backdoor. Our new home, on a small private airstrip out in the country, was also the home base for my dad's new business.
I doubt my brother remembers the trip. I was about a month shy of my 8th birthday. I can't say I remember a lot of it myself either.
It's hard to believe all of that was 36 years ago.
I was trying to figure out what to do for my brother for his birthday. My first thought was to shave part of his head, so he was a hairstyle more like the ones sported by my dad, brother Ron and I. But since I won't actually see my brother on his birthday, I opted instead to embarrass him long distance with a few photos from his recent past.
Happy Birthday Dean!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Waking up from a long slumber
Life had gotten boring. I didn't realize how boring until things turned around. And when it turned, it turned dramatically.
I'm not quite sure where to begin. A big project at work has resulted in long days and long weeks. And it the midst of all that, I almost moved to Portland. Twice.
There are many things about the prospect of becoming a commuter and the living arrangements being considered that were a cause for concern. I didn't know if my old truck could take a 90-mile round trip every day. Plus, I've lived alone for 5 years, and I came very close to becoming the roommate of my two young nieces and their mother in a two bedroom apartment.
It would have been a major lifestyle change. And I have to admit, I was excited about it. Most of my friends who live anywhere close live and work in the greater Portland area.
Unfortunately, the move fell through, not once but twice. But the prospect of the move got me excited again. It got me looking forward to a new life. The project at work, the launch of a new website, though taxing and sometimes frustrating, also revitalized me.
The pace of life accelerated rapidly. I now realized I had not been moving toward or working toward anything in some time. I'd merely been hanging on and trying to get by. That's no way to live.
I don't know yet what that next goal, that next objective is, or even what the next project might be. But I know I need to have something to work toward, to climb for, rather than hanging here trying to maintain a grip on a life that is not all I want and need it to be.
I'm not quite sure where to begin. A big project at work has resulted in long days and long weeks. And it the midst of all that, I almost moved to Portland. Twice.
There are many things about the prospect of becoming a commuter and the living arrangements being considered that were a cause for concern. I didn't know if my old truck could take a 90-mile round trip every day. Plus, I've lived alone for 5 years, and I came very close to becoming the roommate of my two young nieces and their mother in a two bedroom apartment.
It would have been a major lifestyle change. And I have to admit, I was excited about it. Most of my friends who live anywhere close live and work in the greater Portland area.
Unfortunately, the move fell through, not once but twice. But the prospect of the move got me excited again. It got me looking forward to a new life. The project at work, the launch of a new website, though taxing and sometimes frustrating, also revitalized me.
The pace of life accelerated rapidly. I now realized I had not been moving toward or working toward anything in some time. I'd merely been hanging on and trying to get by. That's no way to live.
I don't know yet what that next goal, that next objective is, or even what the next project might be. But I know I need to have something to work toward, to climb for, rather than hanging here trying to maintain a grip on a life that is not all I want and need it to be.
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