In Memoriam D.L.S.

“...because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets: Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.” (Ecclesiastes 12:5-7)

Last weekend I attended the memorial service for Lynn Storey, the father of my daughter, Brittany, and the adoptive father of my children, Eli and Chelsea. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1993; we were divorced about 6 months later after 14 ½ years of marriage. He soon was married to another woman which later ended in divorce. His battle with cancer, although intermittently relieved by remission was long and painful. There were many times when we all wondered how long he would have to suffer and for what purpose.

We now know the answer to the first question—17 years. I don’t know if we’ll ever know all the answers to the second, however this is what I observed. An attractive athletic man of many interests and a zest for life but also plagued with bouts of discouragement and self-doubt led a life filled with portions of love, marriages, children, divorces, jobs, entrepreneurships, successes, failures, formal education, self-education, exploration, reclusiveness, service, selfishness, compassion, openness, and introspection—pretty much like all of us in one way or another. He had periods of estrangement from family members and periods of reunions. I’ve seen him kick dogs and be cruel to animals and I’ve seen him love dogs and cats and provide good homes for them. I’ve seen him obsess over his career and desire to climb to the top, and I’ve seen him learn to accept job losses and pave a pathway of endurance. I’ve seen his anger and mean-spiritedness and I’ve seen his inner man embrace the blessings and opportunities that God has graced him with and his ultimate refining as he learned to really love the Lord, his children, his family, and his life. He learned to express gratitude for the things that matter most. Each of his 5 children and I were able to meet with him individually prior to his death and express love and concern and caring. His two oldest children, Holly and Jim, either lived with him or nearby and were able to care for him in his last few years of poor health. We all had closure in a peaceful and healthy way. When the doctors told him there was nothing more they could do for him and he was assigned to a nursing home we knew he wouldn’t linger here much longer. And in fact, he found his appointed time to return to Heavenly Father only 2 weeks later. We’re all grateful, Lynn included, that he didn’t need to stay there very long.

I’m in the process of moving into another house. I’m unpacking way too many boxes that have been in storage for 2 years. I’m unloading photograph albums and looking inside and seeing pictures of those years I spent with Lynn Storey between 1978 and 1993. Although I’d seen him occasionally since those years, these were the ones that were memorialized with photographs and memorabilia. I see the picture of Lake Camanche and his orange and yellow Hobie Cat sailboat. I see the picture of Eli and Jimmy, young boys in sleeping bags in the back of an old station wagon with a bumper sticker on the fender that says “Happiness is Family Home Evening”. I see our wedding announcement, 4 young hopeful children in a library announcing the “merger” of their parents. I see Brittany sitting in a highchair. I see Chelsea graduating from pre-school. I see Holly dressed for Prom. I see pictures of our homes in San Pablo, Benicia, New Jersey, Georgia, Danville, Chicago, and Texas. Some of these pictures are houses under construction. Some are of homes we plan to remodel or redecorate. I see pictures of our cars: two Pontiacs, a Honda, a BMW, and a Mazda SUV. I see pictures of vacations and holidays, birthdays and celebrations. And then the photographs in the albums stop and I find them uncatalogued in small boxes. Just like Lynn Storey’s mortal life, the collection of albums has ended.

Brittany, Chelsea, Eli, Lynn, Joyce--Wheaton, IL--Christmas, 1990

D. Lynn Storey--Wheaton, IL--Summer 1990

But our memory of Lynn Storey remains and his essence is strong. While I’m unpacking in Laguna Niguel, 4 of his children are sorting through his belongings in San Pablo. Although an intruding thief has taken some of Lynn’s things the week before, the children are experiencing their history again just like I am, but in a different light and in a different frame of reference, through their father’s eyes. They read his journals. They touch his ties hanging on the door. They discuss what to do with his photography equipment. Brittany calls me and tells me that she’s in the house alone and she doesn’t know what to do with all the medicine. “There’s medication everywhere, Mom, all over the house, in every room”. Lingering evidence of a sick and dying man. It’s painful to experience for his youngest child, the union of our marriage. “But I feel privileged that I get to go through his things and help box them up.”

We all feel privileged that we had time in this life with him, a mortal man striving for immortality.

“…Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.” (Ecclesiastes 12:13-14)

The Green Reaper

Remember a few months back when I wrote about Farmer Jordan and his labor of love with the garden preparation so the family could rally around and plant, sow, reap and harvest together?

Well, way to go Jordan and Brittany and Annie and Jake! You are now all officially little red hens and I am very proud of you.

Take a look at this!!!

Mini Ha Has and Great Big Smiles

Several years ago my book group in TX decided to read Longfellow's "The Song of Hiawatha" thanks to Jennifer Kay's suggestion. Although this part of the poem starts in chapter 3 it seems to be the one we all know:

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
Dark behind it rose the forest,
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
Rose the firs with cones upon them;
Bright before it beat the water,
Beat the clear and sunny water,
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.

Little Hiawatha grows up and falls in love with the lovely Minnehaha. During my vacation to Minnesota a few weeks ago Brittany and I took her kids over to Minnehaha Falls. It was beautiful to see. I didn't see this statue of Hiawatha and Minnehaha but it's apparently nearby. I did, however see all of us having a wonderful time playing in the the little pond farther down from the falls.

Nannie Joy with Juliette, Annie, and Jake

Brittany and Baby Jewels

This looks easy but it was actually quite slippery

They made it to safety

Previously on this day of adventure we stopped by Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis. They just happened to have a sand "castle" contest the day before. We took pictures of our favorite sculptures and did a little more wading and tree climbing.

Can you tell what this is?

Annie's favorite

This one's just kind of interesting

Jake's favorite

Juliette was happy with all of them

my favorite

Isn't this what summer's all about?

In getting from point A to point B we also made 2 great discoveries: 1) a Batman bench next to a liquor store which required an immediate slam on the brakes by the driver (me) for Jakey since I knew he'd want his picture taken on it and 2) the world's best corn stand. We didn't know it had the world's best corn but Brittany wanted some for dinner and we all agreed it really was the best corn on the cob we'd ever had.

Now for a little trivia. At Indian Art Camp where Annie and Jake made Indian purses we learned that the Dakota Tribe is known as the Dakotas east of the Mississippi River and the Lakotas west of the Mississippi River (I like to type it all the way out so I can say M I crooked letter crooked letter I crooked letter crooked letter I humpback humpback I). However, they personally don't like to be called either. They prefer Sioux. We also learned when we were at the Falls that when President Johnson and Senator Humphrey visited there in 1964, Minneapolis was in a drought, so the city had to open up many fire hydrants upstream and out of sight to feed water to the creek. I think that's hilarious.

As we drove around I found myself singing (to myself), "From the land of sky blue waters, comes the beer refreshing, Hamms the beer refreshing, Hamms". Talk about a successful advertising campaign. Fifty years later and I'm still thinking of Hamms Beer when I think of the land of 10,000 lakes. I learned that "minisota" is a Dakota, or should I more appropriately say Sioux word that means "water that reflects the sky". I also learned that Minnesota has more shoreline than California, Florida, and Hawaii combined.

I like Minnesota. I like where Jordan and Brittany live, just 20 minutes outside St. Paul. (Apparently, everything is just 20 minutes somewhere.) There is very little traffic and it's easy to get around. I was there in November and January and it wasn't that cold. But then, of course, it was considered a mild winter. They say the summers make the whole state worth it. I think I agree.

Daddy Does his Duty

Life has been a bit hectic. I had a little vacation in Minnesota that I'll blog about later but just for tonight I thought I'd post this video. Brittany had to make a quick weekend trip out to San Francisco to see her dad. Eli stopped in the day before she got there. Chelsea, Sawyer and I flew up yesterday for the day. Lynn's not doing well and is now in a nursing home.

Jordan emailed this brief clip to my iphone on Sunday. While holding down the fort with 3 little kids and Mommy M.I.A., he was able to experience the bright side of self-sufficient children getting themselves dressed for church.

Ye Have Done It Unto Me

On a delightful Saturday afternoon at Doheny State Beach when my nephew and niece were learning to surf I happened to observe the following scene just a few feet away from me. As these girls started walking across the sand and positioned themselves nearby, I was so disturbed by what I saw that I started taking pictures as a reminder of how cruel we can be, how uncaring and thoughtless and unkind. And also as a reminder to be more aware of my circumstances, no matter what age, and watch out for the one on the "outside".

When I was in 6th grade my teacher had us look at pictures from Life Magazine and then write a story about them. Upon seeing these girls I wanted to write their story. I wanted to know what the girl on the left was feeling. I wondered what pain and self-consciousness and insecurity she was experiencing. Whose mother’s friend's daughter or cousin or sister was she? Who encouraged her to wear what she wore and tag along? And who would be there for her when she went home, trying to be brave and say she had a wonderful time at the beach? Who would believe her brave smile and ignore her tear-stained eyes and humiliation? Or who would be there to comfort her?

I wondered all sorts of questions. And in the end I decided not to write the story. The pictures tell it all.

Capturing the Spirit of Independence

What could be better than gaining your freedom by learning how to walk and celebrating the 4th of July early with a march around the livingroom? Viva life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjI52Oxj5Wc

It's the American way!

"What Tempo, Captain?" "Tempo, Tempo...a Tarantella!"

I get a perverse pleasure thinking about my daughter, Brittany’s, daughter, Annie, taking piano lessons. Although she is not quite 6 years old, she started with her teacher 2 weeks ago…Wednesday mornings around 10 o’clock. In Minnesota. Annie played for me the other day her first 2 pieces that she’s learning. Because it was on speaker phone I also heard Brittany try to gently correct her and heard a little almost-6-years-old prideful retalliation from Annie of, “Mother, I know how to do this.”

After she was done and I gave Annie all the normal Grandma “oohs” and “aahs” of being greatly impressed, Brittany then got back on the phone. I think she heard me snickering, possibly snorting.

“Brittany,” I said. “Do you know what great joy I take in hearing this little interchange?”

“Really, why?” she wondered.

I then proceeded to remind her that in all the states we lived in and of all the music lessons I involved my kids with, saxophone for Eli, flute for Chelsea, and piano for all three of them, ONLY Brittany insisted, from a very young age that she really didn’t need to learn the notes. When I would sit next to her while she practiced and I’d try to explain what a low C or low E was, she’d get all indignant, huffy, insulted, impatient, and brush me off. She neither wanted nor required my help—thank you very much! Her teachers (there were several) all notified me that she didn’t know her notes. How can that be? I would ask. She’d been taking for years. They all pointed out that she’d learned to memorize what the teacher had played and try to copy it. I would write the names of the notes next to the letter. I bought flash cards and asked her to review them with me. I’d point to the notes and ask what they were. This always led to open rebellion. I candidly admit here that our little conversations on this subject were not benign and were often punctuated with loud voices. And I’d eventually slink away.

The idea of Brittany being such a little radical when it comes to learning the piano seems hard to believe in the present day. She is such a wonderful loving mother and wife who desires to be obedient to God and serve everyone she lives with and meets. But that old piano thing. It caused many years of frustration on my part back then. And now it makes me laugh.

Because it’s true…what goes around comes around…payback is heck…and Karma is a Beach. I can’t wait to hear more of Annie’s lessons. I rub my palms together, back and forth with glee in anticipation and let out a cackling howl. Cruella De Vil ain’t got nuttin’ on me!

Annie Girl, granddaughter of my heart---go get 'em, tiger!