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I was at St. Hedwig’s cemetery the other day. 

A beer can sat on a momument next to that of my grandparents.  I thought it was litter at first, but it was unopened.  Maybe funny for some, but meaningful to them.  Reminded me of stuffed animals left on the graves of children.

Followed some turkets into the woods in the back, and looked in the usual dumping pile to find a glass jug that I promptly salvaged.

When I went to the front of the cemetery to visit the grave of my other grandparents, a couple there asked me if i was related to them.  I discovered he was my grandfather’s nephew and godson, and his wife was related to the husband of my aunt in California.  He looked a lot like Grandpa.  We exchanged names and are playing tag on Facebook.

Which brings me to my grandma Evelyn — my 5th grandparent, who married my grandpa (above) after Grandma died.  While doing a Facebook search for one of my cousins on that side, it turned up a web search link to her obituary.  It was odd to hear about such a thing from Facebook before my relatives told me.  I do have a small regret, though, as even though I didn’t really know her, I just found her address at the nursing home the other day and I had planned to write her, putting it off a bit too late.

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I have no way to describe it, really.  It was so full of life.  First, we visited Christina at her dorm on Saturday as she was moving in.  Mer put together a care package of food and stuff, and I grabbed an extension cord she needed from Big Lots on the way.  We only stayed a few moments, really, but it brought back memories of dorming and even visiting her college years a generation ago.  And yes, I was a bit teary-eyed on the way home, or at least on the way to Demetri’s on the Lake.

Sunday (today), we went to the final day of the Erie County Fair.  Discount tickets were no longer available at Tops, but right at the gate, a couple gave us two extra tickets they had!  Then we got the most amazing deal on a bunch of AT&T Mobile equipment, as I needed a cell phone that synced with Outlook and ended up with basically a hand-held PC.  Then we ran into friends Bob & Susan and had Chiavetta’s together.  Then the deluge began.  We got thoroughly soaked, and honestly didn’t care.  We didn’t even care about the parking ticket for alternate parking change on our street while we were out.  We were home after a memorable day.

Of course, watching Planet Earth in HD rounded it out nicely as well — the Discovery Channel is like porn to us.  Now I sit here listening to the Best of Jon & Vangelis, utterly perplexed about where I want to go with my personal online presence, but that’s a post for another time.  Back to keeping Mer company, and off to bed.

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It never amazes me how deep the roots are of our personal values.  But unlike those who would rather be totally self-deterministic in some false sense of empowerment for its own sake, I would rather embrace them as consistent personality strengths and weaknesses I can make the best of.

Why bring this up?  I asked my Dad the other day what kind of advice Grandpa gave him over the years.  There were two things that came to mind: “If you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all” and “Do the hardest part of anything first.”

It was amusing (but no surprise) that I recall attempting to instill these tidbits (the former in particular) in Christina.  I don’t know if it took … time will tell.  But I can see why I insist on doing things right, not just adequately.  Sometimes I take it too far and need to be gentle with myself, but other times it means that when I can’t do something what I think is a truly good job, it’s still far better than the other guy would have done it.

And I can live with that.  Thanks Dad.  Thanks Grandpa.

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I just read an alumni newsletter article – or rather tried to read it in its entirety — about the new statue of Saint Marguerite D’Youville at my Alma Mater.  It’s a long-winded litany of interpretive assumptions about the artist’s intentions linked to vague ideals, right down to the significance of how far apart the saint’s feet are in light of historical and metaphysical perspectives.  Their wording suggests the were even guessing (not knowing) why there was a key lying on the ground embedded in the pedestal.  They may have well been talking about a tree and why God made one branch longer than the other.  Yeah, this article was all fun from an academic standpoint, an admittedly well-done exercise in written oratory, and apropos as filler for a newsletter.

But what of the statue in the real world that others passing by would see for themselves, unaided by such commentary?

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Finally went to Dunkirk and planted flowers on graves (a yearly ritual).  Then we strolled at the pier shops, the beach, and cooked hot dogs on the grill.  Just a perfect day, started by sleeping in a bit and organzing the keepsakes from my daughter’s high school life (she’s at Bonaroo right now).  Life is good.

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http://vimeo.com/4825838

I finally got to this.  I wish the people I love could have known him.  He can be seen on video at http://weblogs.hollanddoc.nl/magikdood/2009/03/28/moge-de-zon-je-paraplu-zijn/.

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I’m still not up to posting a eulogy for my friend Ronald Cools from the Nederlands, and never posted about my friend and accountant Bob Kell earlier this year, but I think I can do this one for our dear pet Hastings.

Hastings “Pudding” was the first cat that Merry and I got together, about 12 years ago (he was about 2 years old).  To the other cats, he was “Uncle Hastings” and didn’t mind the biting back-rides of then-kitten Joey.  He got along with everybody.  He loved socks.  He hunted them, sang about them, and if you left your drawers open, any lederhosen was fair game to be strewn about the living space.  He was a yodeller, with a resulting rush for newspaper on our part to catch the hairball, often from eating his other vice – houseplants.  And he was the best natured cat we have ever had. 

He was diagnosed with hepatitic anemia, which is why he was so tired this last week or so, and his red blood cell count didn’t look too good.  He wasn’t in any pain, but made his way to a cozy spot in Merry’s den closet, where we made sure he ate and drank apart from the other cats.  he hadn’t had the energy to run down and join them for days and needed his own food on hand, especially since he had started to lose weight for months now, which we attributed to old age. 

Upon a blanket, one paw on food dish, he looked his peaceful self, even upon death.  Wrapped in a blanket, we delivered him to Pine Rest to be cremated.

I feel silly making such a big deal about this, but I loved him.  I’m crying right now.  My wife and I just came back from a “funeral breakfast” at Alton’s.  Our household will never be the same.

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It’s been too long, but after a few years I got to see my Dad tonight.  I can’t believe everyone in the world doesn’t have or at least want Skype.

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Merry was reorganizing the attic yesterday, and opened the wooden box that houses her cast iron cookware.  Except instead of cookware, they were our missing ornaments!!!!

She doesn’t remember putting them in there and neither do I, nor can we explain why we would do such a thing. But we’re thankful, and a bit shocked in a surreal kinda way.

Now if only we could find the cookware …

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As part of recently having a business coach, I’ve been seeing a professional psychologist for an assessment of personal impediments and evaluation of learning style.  I’ve looked for an excuse to have some counselling for some time … not because anything is really wrong, but like chiropractic, an adjustment now and then just makes sense.  Besides, a lot of issues I have been aware of for years, though nothing major, I never got around to addressing, and it’s much easier having someone help you through it.

One of those issues is harsh self-criticism as an occasionally obsessive thought habit, even about little things.  Sean (my psychologist) asked me to sing my criticisms / admonishments when they happen.  I asked if it was a typo … and it wasn’t.  Just staying conscious of the pattern reduced it to where I didn’t really do it, but I caught myself and finally was able to sing (within my head, not out loud) the gist of a criticism over something mundane and unimportant.

I actually burst out into laughter that lasted for some time, to the point of tears.  Ironically, it happened in the tissue isle at Wegman’s, and though no one was in my immediate vicinity, I must have been quite a sight, leaning against the shelves in an unexpected catharsis.  Maybe that was the point — to realize the ridiculousness of such petty self-criticism on a more limbic level.  I think this is what Dianetic auditors refer to as “blowing the charge” (I can’t recall the Freudian terminology).

Even after the three coaching-related sessions, I plan to stay on and maybe even do some various therapies, just to experience them and improve my life in various ways.  It’s funny that there’s a stigma attached to seeing a traditional professional to improve mental health, while people brag about spending a  fortune on physical fitness trainers, yoga classes, etc..  And there’s a cult or two out there who would have a field day implying I’m being treated for mental illness just because I’m taking advantage of such things.  But I’m proud of my ability to work with someone to tune up myslef on such levels, and will probably share some of it here … so stay tuned!

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We finally gave up on the wood stove.  Too many delays, and them not knocking on the door loud enough for three adults and a dog in line of sight of it to know anyone was there (and hence missing any opportunity for them to finish beyond deconstruction) … we just asked for our money back, and got it.

The house is well insulated and the furnace is really efficient; managing wood and the stove itself would be more of a pain on afterthought.  It would have been worth the trouble for a fireplace, but the chimney wasn’t built for it.

We’re going with a fish tank.

Side note: When they deconstructed the faux fireplace facade, we found a lot of interesting things.  Photos, a pay stub for Seneca Red Hots, a $100 US Savings bond (1985) owned by someone with an address on the next street, an add for a free dress with purchase of laundry soap, random playing cards and a die … we’ve offered to return the stuff to the previous owner and haven’t heard back.

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Whiteouts today, a few feet of snow over the last couple days.

And our family holiday parties have begun with a Yule gathering at some in-laws tonight.  Merry kept joking about how she’s love to have some online friends from down south in the back seat watching us drive through all this, half the time with the hazards on.

But in spite of it all, we can’t go anywhere near the malls — consumers are spending like crazy!  Must be that “recession” we keep hearing about, and in the midst of the “global warming crisis” at that.  Sometimes life with your eyes open is just too damn ironic.

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We had a horrific discovery yesterday — the box with all our Christmas ornaments is missing.  We last saw it packed up for the move, and know it is neither here nor there.  We don’t see them being stolen, and I wonder if they got caught up with donated items in all the confusion in early August.

But this isn’t about “decorations” — it’s about ornaments from the Old Country, the Great Depression, two world wars, relatives that passed, trips and travels, childhood memories, small photos, gifts on our first newlywed Christmas, and the signed cards from our wedding that Merry turned into ornaments.  Even the traditional pickle that was hidden on the tree since long before Merry met me as a multi-generation family tradition.

We have some money to buy new ones, but few of them could come close to ever being replaced.  It’s times like these that the impermanence of things falls around you, and you want to cling to memories that you know may someday fade as well.  And now looking at a Christmas tree will never be the same.

Our first Christmas here in the new house … the excitement of Merry buying me a Santa Fe train like I had growing up and setting it up under the tree is bittersweet.  Nothing is ever the same as we remember it.   And we walked a mile or so each way in the snow with a wagon last weekend to buy a real tree down the street, picking one that had room for the huge collection of ornaments that are now … it’s hard for me to say it yet … gone.  We can only hope to fill them in with equally memory-invoking items over the years and pass down what’s left.

It makes me question all the silly things that I’ve saved over the years — paperwork and records that are factual but not really about life, in comparison to things that are worth remembering and retelling to the people you Love.  Hopefully this will be a sort of fresh start for the better in some small way.

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A couple days ago, Merry’s friend Dawn lives in Kaisertown and says she saw what looked like Lydia in front of the woods near her house.  She was on her way to work, but reported it to Merry who left me a note.

I spent about an hour combing the woods and field at Mineral Springs and South Ogden, calling her name, and shaking a container of cat food.  No luck.  It was a bigger area than I thought it would be.  We might put out fliers near there.

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Lydia, the cat we found pregnant in the woods a few years back, seems to have gotten out somehow the Sunday before last.  No idea how, but I believe I saw her on the steps last week, but she ran away when i got to the door.

We put out flyers to all the neighbors within a block or two, as well as a couple businesses on Seneca Street.  She probably still has her collar with tags, but no one called except a neighbor suggesting I pray to St. Anthony.

{sigh}

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I’ve been busy with lots of projects, personal and professional, and I’m taking a few moments to clean up my computer’s desktop, nearly full to the brim with shortcuts and files as always.

I came across things I meant to post, including a poem I wrote while traveling without Merry earlier this year … http://www.kentropolis.com/bbs/showthread.php?p=1559#post1559.

I was supposed to help out again on the Richard A. Smith (www.ExcaliburLS.org) but the nasty wind we had last night after a party at the house wreaked havoc at the small boat harbor and all the boat owners are being asked to move out.

Other than that, I spent over 12 hours over the course of the week painting a friend’s apartment.  I grossly underestimated the time it would take, forgetting the higher ceilings and lack of a squeeze roller.  But a promise was a promise so to speak, and I was happily exhausted for days, still working on the farm on Thursday, going to BNI leadership training, and doing things around the house before the party.

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Amy (Mer’s sister) & Brian came over for a cookout, after giving us an awesome gas grill as a housewarming present. We have been so blessed with such gifts this last month, such as all the appliances and moving costs taken care of my parents-in-law.  Di (Mer’s Dad) even gave me an old chop saw and table saw, the latter of which I have used many times — it’s heaven on wood projects such as all the shelves I’ve been building for my office closet.

We also got our first parking tickets today, just minutes after the alternate parking changed.  On a happier note, I put our second volley of empty boxes on Craigslist (as free) and within minutes they were gone. Reduce, reuse, recycle!

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Jenn Stuczynski took the Silver at pole vaulting at the Olympics, being one of only 3 women in the world to ever breach the 16 foot height. She’s my second-cousin’s daughter, whom I have never met in person, but I’m really proud of her, especially having only started in the sport 3 years ago.

I made a celebration a couple weeks ago in Fredonia (the second one that week, as I missed the first one where she signed autographs before she left for Beijing), where I got rained on a lot, but bought a t-shirt, got to see the distant family I knew (her father and grandfather), and hunted down the very last lawn sign with her name on it. There was even a marching band, dignitaries, etc.

Now I have to find out when the return party will be, as I only hear about such things these days from associates in BNI who live out there.

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I’ve finally taken the time to get back to my journal here, as today I walked from our old home to our new home. We officially moved two weeks ago, but now we are settled in for the most part. Merry dropped me off at Fisher Park, I surveyed the land, and Koala in backpack (along with some water, a Gideon Bible, and a copy of “The Long Journey Home“), I twirled my prayer wheel for the nearly two hour journey.

I met Merry walking Ladybug, and we crossed the threshold as if for the first time. We had our first sit-down dinner together — chicken (my favourite) — right after I put up the PaKua over the door. We never did have a house blessing or smudging, as the house seemed to welcome us, eager to be lived in. We may do so anyway, but not to exorcise past memories or lingerings. Roman came over and I ended the day by setting up my scripture stand in my office and taking a sponge bath, as the shower isn’t fixed yet.

A lot has happened over the last month or two, and getting the house and moving in is a story for another time. perhaps soon.