"You will hate Pittsburgh by the time you leave..."

Last night we went out to eat with my inlaws, Doug's sister, and her two kids. On the way out of the restaurant my father in law had his arm wrapped around me, mine was around him. We were saying our goodbyes and he said "Oh, you will hate Pittsburgh by the time you leave here."

He was misty eyed and we looked over at Jess, who was saying goodbye to her little cousins, Elyse and Craig (ages 9 and 5).

"I remember how much I hated Gordon after we left Doug there. I drove away hating the place that was taking my boy."

I told him that I wasn't going to hate Pittsburgh at all, because he and his wife and Diane, Jay and the kids are so close. It isn't like I'm leaving her somewhere desolate and unknown.

This morning I'm feeling a little more like what I think my father in law is talking about. But not quite. I know I won't hate it. I can't hate the place my girl has picked for her new home.

I will hate the highway though.

Transition Time

I have been incredibly stressed out about money. Paralyzingly so. Because we are in a long-standing dispute with Bank of America, we have a shit credit rating right now. We were declined for Jess' student loan for Pitt, and we leave here on Saturday. Doug reached out to his parents and his dad is co-signing on her first year's worth of loans. We're hoping life will be better, and that she can establish herself as an independent student, and obtain her own loans without our history tarnishing her. I am unable to fall asleep at night just thinking about this.

My advice to you if you have small people is no matter how hard it is to put money aside, earmark 100 bucks a month to your 529 plan, now. We didn't start until last year. We only raised 7000 dollars. So if you have wee ones, start early, and be serious about it. You won't regret it.

Last night we hosted a little bonfire for Jess in honor of her leaving for college rather soon. I didn't want it to be a party party with tons of food -- but I ended up bbq'ing burgers for about 20 hungry kids (and my husband and son too), and in between silly stories and a round of "Apples to Apples Junior" we did a little "separation ritual" for Jess. My friend Agnes had sent me an article about having time set aside for family to talk to the "leaver" about how their departure will change your life.

Because I know that her friends love her so, and most of them are not going away away (Courtney is going to southern Maine, Marissa is going to Worcester, and tons of her friends are underclassmen) I figured it would be an interesting exercise.

We built a fire in the fire pit, and I got Jessica's "Pimp Hat" and her purple and white feather boa. She got placed in a chair, with pimp hat perched, and her friends circled round. I had them wear the feather boa and share two things: their favorite memory of her, and then what they will miss most about her. I told all of them to turn off their phones. No texting, no web browsing, nothing. Be in the moment -- don't get distracted, and really spend time listening to each other and sharing with Jess.

It got really silly, and a couple people got slightly teary. A lot of it centered around her strength of will. Nick said that the one thing he will always remember is that even when she was most pissed off about things and situations, she would bitch with humor.

That's mah girl. yo.

She would always throw her hands up in the air and flail them around while strongly voicing her displeasure, and make it funny. People who had gone away with her on trips (the German trip and the NYC trip with the Germans) all had funny memories, like Lee recalling a creeper who jumped out of an alley in Manhattan and said some wacky things to them, scaring the piss out of them.

Nick's parents were present for the "ritual," and participated and I think they were feeling it strongly because of what is happening on their homefront... Nick is going away for a semester in Ireland right off the bat (he'll be going to Plymouth NH for school but for the first semester he'll be overseas) so Mrs. Nick's Mom was a little emotional as she remembered all the fun things that she was able to witness through the years that Nick and Jess have been friends.

Nick's younger brother was there. He's a year older than Jess and I was incredibly moved by what he had to say. He loves Jessica -- and it is obvious. He made her chocolate covered strawberries for her party, and he had a lot of memories to share about her being at their house while Nick and Jess and others were working on projects for school.

Doug and I both participated -- I said there are too many good memories that I have of her. I thought that I might cry but I didn't. I said that I was going to miss nothing, which made everyone laugh, but the truth is that this is the right time and exactly what is supposed to happen and I am 100% convinced that her launch will be successful. And thanks to technology and facebook and what have you, she wouldn't be lost to me. I am going to miss her asking me every day, even if she's been with me all day, "How was your day, lady?" but now she can do it on skype or facebook or whatever. And our lives will be normal and wonderful, just the way they are supposed to be.

Doug got a lot of laughs because I put the feather boa on him and he made a face that made Jessica say "you think this is soooooooo stupid! that's what your face says!" But he said that he is proud of her and that he is happy she has such great friends who have been supportive to her for years. Doug normally retreats when we have these Jess friend gatherings, so it was fun to watch him listen to what her friends had to say about her.

I was pleasantly surprised by Geoff. He was given the option to be skipped over, or say only appropriate things. He said that the thing he'll remember most about her was her role in "Bye Bye Birdie" when she played Mae Petersen, and how incredibly funny she was and she literally stole the show. Fully expected, he ended with "And I will miss nothing about you."

He's ready for her to leave. He's ready to have a life to himself. And I am okay with that. I do feel relief that there is SOMEthing that he remembers fondly of her.

And I hear her when she talks to her friends. She relates stories about things he has done and said that are awesome and funny. To his face I'm sure she wold never tell him that she thinks they are awesome and funny. But last night I heard her relate at least two stories about him that were great stories (the "I can't wait until I grow up" and "I hurt my foot on the same nail!" stories). Her friends were in stitches, and I know that she maybe knows he isn't the complete little shit that he seems to be most of the time.

At the end, Eric broke my heart because I know he is going to miss her so much. There is no doubt that I love this kid and how much a part of her life he's been for the last 5 years or so... he's so wonderful. He is like a son to me... a great role model for Geoff, and a like-soul to Jess.

It was a very good time, and a great party. Normally I would have opened the house to pantloads of kids to crash out and sleep here in the livingroom, like during graduation weekend. But I made it clear (to Eric's disappointment as well as others) that I was probably not in the best frame of mind to have piles of puppies sleeping in the livingroom when I needed to get things done in the morning.

I am going to miss that...

And I predict a giant sleep over during Christmas.

Summer 2010 update

I am sitting in a computer lab at the state (soon-to-be university) college, co-teaching the summer course that I've taught for a couple of years. One of the features of the class is we teach teachers to make webpages. In years past, we've taught them how to do Netscape Composer. But we decided "screw that old school nonsense!" and now we're teaching them how to use Blogger not just as a blogging tool but as a web page too.

Which got me to thinking.

I have been remiss in updating the official (a)musings journal because it has just become too much work. As much as I do love Dreamweaver, and designing graphics, and layouts and whatnot.... it has become too much.

Also, the stupid company that used to do my comments changed their format and I can't get it to run on my journal. The web is progressing beyond what I'm comfortable doing by hand.

And spending 25 bucks a month to host thousands of entries when I can do it for free up in here.... it's a no brainer.

So I'm transitioning all my old archives over here, and will begin writing more regularly here. I am using the post options feature here to date stamp all the old entries correctly. Some will be slightly edited so that discussions I have with myself about layout changes and colors and stuff will just go away. So the ebb and flow of entries will still be what it was over the last 9 years.

The other journal will go away, eventually. So update your bookmarks. I will keep my domain and host my portfolio there, but that is about it.

---

The last time I wrote was when Jess graduated from high school. Two months gone. A lot has happened and not a lot has happened.



Shakespeare started for Geoff, and he had a spectacularly fun time this year. I was worried about him going into the program with all female directors because he usually has "issues" with being told what to do by women.



But his attitude going into the program was fantastic, and in checking in each day with the directors all I got was great feedback about how funny and smart and entertaining he was. I couldn't believe it was the same boy as last year. He loved the play (Two Gentlemen of Verona) and had a very funny part that suited him wonderfully. My inlaws and my mom came up to see him in the play and a good time was had by all. Here's a photo of Geoff as Thurio, with the lady Sylvia beside him. He is in love with her, but she loves Valentine... and Proteus also loves her and chaos ensues. Funny chaos. Geoff was fantastically great. The first night he did a perfect deep voice and the second night he insisted

Othello started, and my inlaws got to see that too. This year I'm tour coordinating again, which brings me incredible joy because otherwise I would have literally nothing to do with my life other than apply for jobs, do laundry, nag Jessica to do the dishes. And we all know how damn exciting that is.

The show is amazing, I think they've outdone themselves in awesomeness with this presentation. If you live north of Boston, do go see it? Check the website. You should know where it is by now, and if you do not, you can leave a comment here and I'll respond.

So I'm here teaching this class now. When I agreed to it I didn't know it would be Shakespeare Tour Week, so my mind and heart are kind of thinking about the kids today. They are in north andover, and hopefully right this minute are running a workshop with kids at the library where they're playing. I wish I was there to see it.

But making money is good too. I'm happy to get paid. And I love this -- teaching people how to use powerpoint and blogger is a lot more fun than... well, laundry, dishes and applying for jobs.

Well -- this has taken 2 hours to write. I'll post it and get back to class.

My Life As Written By Others part 2

Before I write about Bonnie and Laurel, please note that family is as important as friends when it comes to writing a life. I already embarrassed the hell out of my sister with one of these, back on her birthday. That, theoretically, is a "life as written by others" chapter, but it stands alone. I've not yet gotten to writing on my parents, grandparents etc. But I will. So before you go thinkin' only my friends from highschool and college matter, stand yourself corrected and give me time.

In college, one can be burdened with roommates. Other times, you are blessed with them. I have a couple of each type. The best of the bunch (I've had Bonnie, Mary, Laurel, Diane, Suzie and Helen as the names sharing my door) are by far Bonnie and Laurel.

I met both of them in 1984, Bonnie was assigned as my roommate, and Laurel lived in the dorm next door but quickly became my best friend and I would room with her at other times. Between the two of them, I was kept sane, had tons of fun, and we all got along well. We lived together in 1985-86 and had a great time. They've been a blessing in my life, in times of trouble and laughter. Sniff. Weep. Tito, hand me a tissue. Here is to Bonnie and Laurel.

Bonnie
Bonnie and her little sister Erin, circa 1985	Steve, my then boyfriend, Bonnie and I seem to think that shredded documents make nice hats.
Bonnie is the oldest of four, was my roommate for freshman and sophomore year, junior year she lived with Melissa, and we somehow ended back up together in a sweet suite in Wilson Hall for her senior year, my second junior year, before I went off to Oregon. Bonnie says of the document shredding hair picture "No wonder I couldn't get a date in college! Jeeesh, look at the outfit!" We referred to our room freshman year as "the Swamp," just like on M*A*S*H, and she was BJ, I was Hawkeye, and crazy Mary was definitely Frank Burns. She was given a hamster by a guy named Glenn, who I believe at the time was madly in love with her, even though I was starting to develop a painful crush on him. The hamster's name was "Boof" and we kept it hidden in our room, but people (including our R.A. Cheryl) knew about it and would come play with it. We were narked upon by a weaselly sniveling midget named Maureen and Boof had to find a new home. She went to Bonnie's parents' house, and lived her days in happiness and love, with Bon's brother and two sisters. In addition to all the fun we had wearing shredded paper and making fun of Mary and her teeth, her bangs and her shopping habits, and hamster smuggling, we shared with Laurel the joys of living right next to the trash storage (it was under our bedroom and stank to hell in the warm weather). Dubbed "the sin bin" due to the fact that people would sit on it and make out (which STILL to this day grosses me out) the trash container became the site of many a late night yelling match between ourselves and Kathy and Mike, who would sit and declare their undying love. They are since divorced.
The lovely and distinguished Bonnie, dahling.... yes dahling. Love the sophistimicated eybrow raising, and slightly parted lips here. Dahling...	The flippant and ridiculous Bonnie (I laughed my ass of f when I found this picture! she is so damn cute! I think we were modeling stuffed animals for Vogue magazine (see her bed, under her left arm? That was the impetus...)
Bonnie always was, and always will be the hippest chick I know. Even with a stuffed animal on her head. She's the bomb. Her brother in law noted that at her wedding in his best man toast saying something along the lines of, "she's hip, she's gorgeous, she's smart... what's she doing with my brother?" She may not have had a lot of dates in college (which really doesn't make any sense. I mean hell, a fat chicka like me got two pretty decent boyfriends in the 6 years I spent there, and she didn't get one full time one the whole time? What the hell???) she did score a wicked cool husband and baby and has a sweet and fun life. Why? Because she's a class act. With a wicked sense of humor. Combined, she's unstoppable. Simply put. Dig her Nike leather sneakers here in the picture to the right. She and Mark are doing this weird pose thing that we used to always do with hands on hips and elbows pushed foreword. I think Paul invented it. There was a funny voice you had to do with it too. I have a million pictures of Bonnie. A lot more than I do of Laurie. Not sure how that works out... There is a roll of film that I lost before I ever got it developed that I wish to hell I had... we spent a weekend down at my Grandmother's house in Falmouth, and took a winter driving tour of the Cape Cod National Seashore. I distinctly remember taking a picture of her by a beautiful lighthouse, standing by a sign that urged her not to stand there because she would plummet to imminent death. It was funny at the time... but it's a mental memory instead of a Kodak Moment for me. And last but not least, she was the creator and proud owner of "The Chicken Of Death," which I kept with me for several years, pictured here riding my moped with Tim N. Nicknames: Bubba, Bubbles, Bonnie Fitzgerbil Songs Associated: "Bad Sneakers," Steely Dan Mostly Appreciated for: Putting up with me when Steve dumped me and I stayed in bed for five days mopey and sad; pulling me out of that bed and making me live; being my maid of honor and one hot babe at my wedding, especially when I nailed her in the face with the bouquet...; yelling at people on the Sin Bin; inviting us to her parents' house for one of the best weekends ever (seen below); keeping me included in her life during and after college even though I'm a social dud and nowhere near as hip and cool as the people she knows in the city; naming "The Way Out Inn." At Casa Bonnie in perhaps 1985? back row: Mark, Paul, Bonnie, Steve couch: Laurel, Pappa Fitz, Erin, Mamma Fits, Me

Laurel
Laurel in the companion picture that goes with mine up top. I took hers, she took mine. Summer 1985.	Laurel in the woods. You can't see it but she has a small child strapped on her back from her nanny days... 1985
Laurel and I were in a gym class together Fall Semester, Freshman year, 1984. That's where we met. She lived in the dorm next to mine, and many of the people she was getting to know freshman year would become some of my better friends in the Pre-Doug Years. She was all about business -- a tough girl full of the kind of energy living "20 miles north the mason dixon line" brings. We had to do a battery of pushups, situps and pull ups, and we were paired together by the gym teacher. We, mostly Laurel, kicked ass at everything we needed to do, so much so that Jerome named us "Animal Women," and when people would see us coming, they'd call out "Hey Annnneeeeemaaaaaallllllll!" Laurel was the proud owner of the "molest me" shirt, a white linen blouse that was irresistible to men. I borrowed it on many occasions while dating Steve. She also owned some of the coolest cars -- the two most notable are the Pelton Mobile, named after a co-worker of hers who was a complete toad, and Augie, a car similar to Doug's Chevy Monza, which I learned to drive on. Augie was a lovely powder blue, and one day while we were driving up Rte 22 in Beverly a wasp flew in the car. Both of us were terrified of wasps/stinging things, so she just about treed the car up in someone's yard as both of us bailed from the vehicle. She barely got it into park and we spilled out into this guy's yard. He came out and we were screaming like ninnies. He killed the wasp. I do believe.
Nice Jacket Laurel... I wonder what ever became of that thing, purchased 2nd hand in Manchester for 2 bucks. I love this picture.	I was supposed to be her bridesmaid in her wedding, and was having my dress made for me when she was home, having graduated a year early. Like I said, she was all about business. She called me distraught to let me know the wedding was off, that her fiancee had changed his mind. A couple years later, she eloped with another guy, Christopher, and pissed me off to no end. But I got over it, and she's still one of the coolest and most inspiring people I know. She has two kids, her oldest was born the day Doug and I got married, so she wasn't able to be in the wedding party, or even be there. Sarah will be 11 on Saturday.
As I mentioned, I have a lot more pictures of Bonnie than of Laurel from back in the day. The simple truth is that Laurel was always behind the camera, and took some amazingly beautiful pictures. She was a wonderful photographer, and I have the evidence to show for it. I will always think of her when I drive down Grover Street (our favorite street!) in Beverly. Especially with the windows down. In the late spring. When the lilacs are out. Nicknames: Laurie, Animal Woman, Hoatzie, 'zapple. Songs Associated: "You can close your eyes" James Taylor; anything by Yes that you can go "fwanna fwanna fwanna na NA NA" along with Mostly Appreciated for: Constantly consoling me when Steve and I would break up; telling Steve that he needed to break up with me for good instead of just constantly allowing me to weasel my way back into relationship with him (at the time, I was pissed, but with hindsight... whew! Thank you, Laurel!); giving me the second worst hair cut of my life; how she played 6- and 12-string guitar; being left handed; the molest-me shirt and other items in her wardrobe which were at my disposal at anytime; having the same size feet as me; her ongoing smarts, beauty and strength; dedication to God and Jesus which humbles me.

My Life As Written By Others part 1

The picture of me and Doug from yesterday is just a freaking riot. I can't believe that was 1988, new wave was on its way out, Grunge hadn't quite been born, hair bands were starting to suffer a receding line, and we were a bunch of hippie kids living in the mountains reading Jacques Ellul, Dostoyevsky and David James Duncan.

By the way, I highly HIGHLY recommend David James Duncan to everyone I meet. Go. Read him instead of me. Now now now!

{{{By the way, even more, he was a guest lecturer and teacher at OE in 1996, and I urge you, if you don't run to the bookstore or Amazon NOW, at least go read that article I point to there. Sorry I wasn't there that year. I may have different political beliefs, stances, desires than he has... but wvoof! The man's pen writes my soul and I'm forever impressed. So go. Read, then, come back here, wouldya.}}}.

Mr. Duncan sees his life written by water. I see mine written by friends, and have been thinking a lot about them lately. From Frank, who I barely knew but wish I did know better, to Dave, who I knew before he wasn't Dave anymore... And, I have the new scanner and a pantload and a half of pictures.

So today's entry is about a few people who write my life... and some bad 80s hair. This is just a start, if you aren't mentioned here, you simply weren't in the pile of pictures right next to the computer.

This entry is for Christopher, Smitty, Scott, Shunta and my love, my life, my greatest writer... Douglas.

Smitty, Chris and Doug stalk Bob Dylan I think it is 1989, and Doug went home for the summer. He took a couple classes at the University of Pittsburgh and did some serious hanging out with some guys he was and still is friends with. The infamous Christopher J. Kelly, and Smitty, AKA Scott. They went to see Dylan, did the typical tailgating thing, got word that he was staying at the Vista Hotel in Dahn-Tahn, so the went there to see if they could see the Master himself. They didn't, but... the pictures still remain. They have been a big part of my life, and are more important to me than I think they realize sometimes. They were in our wedding party, and I wish they didn't live so far away. Here's a glimpse at a day in their lives with Doug "Back In The Day."
	CJK seems to be thinking "Oh the horrors, the horrors! I have to have my picture taken with the Smitster and he's attempting to take my beer! I'll smile and look polite but after the click, I pummel the bastard! Quick Doug! Snap the picture!" In spite of Chris' death thoughts, Smitty still lives today.
	Smitty aloofly stands with Doug leaning against the same Chevy Monza that he did bless once at a different Dylan show, memorialized on Doug's T-shirt. Doug looks like a foxy intellectual hippie kid, and I dig him!
	Smitty and Doug stalking Dylan outside of the Vista Hotel. Geoffrey wears his baseball hats like Doug does here, and looks a lot like him. Man, you can see how cute he is and why I dug him so much (still do, even though he doesn't wear that wicked cool 80s digital watch!)
	I love this picture. I hardly recognize these clowns. Check out the Vista Marquis in the back there. They really DID go to stalk Dylan! Chris' grin has always and forever cracked my shit right up, Doug's a cute assed little honey, and I wish I had been there instead of back here in Massachusetts. Sniff. Weep.
"You Can Steal Locks in Amellicka!!!!!!!" Scott in Chicago's dad worked for a company that did a lot of business in Japan. Shunta came to visit as Scott's guest for like a month and lived on Scott and Doug's dormroom floor, without the blessing, consent or knowledge of the college we were in. We had an unbelievable amount of fun with Shunta, and these pictures prove it. The quote at the top is from an hysterical anecdote which reeks of western misunderstanding of eastern dialect. We went out drinking one night, and Shunta needed to get a smoke on, so we all went out for a walk down to the swimming pond. It was butt-cold freezing out, and Shunta was laughing his ass off hysterically. He said something to Scott, like, "Scott, you caster wok innamellicka!" Scott answered, "You can cancer wock in America? I don't get it." Shunta repeated it, and Scott said "You can steal locks in Amellica? Shunta, you make no sense." We were laughing at us, but the very drunk Shunta really wanted us to understand him. Getting frustrated, he finally sang it, and we figured out he really wanted us to know that: YOU CAN STILL ROCK IN AMERICA!!! God Bless the friendship making, gap-bridging and communication misunderstanding healing power of 80s hair metal bands! We still say to each other things like "You can steer rocks in Amellica..." just for fun, and to remember our friend Shunta.
	Shunta, Doug and I get ready to go for a walk. No smoking on campus, Shunta was an avid smoker, and we would go out in the woods and walk with him, and try and talk... towards the end of his stay, it was very easy. At first, we had NO clue what the hell this guy was talkin' about...
	What is Doug pointing at? Why is Shunta the only one mugging for the camera? Wake up Scottie! This picture cracks me up. I think we took it right after the "Steal lock in amellicka" discussion that almost set back anglo-asian relations 200 years.
	Oh my God is this picture funny or what. Check out Agrey in front. He is Kenyan, and was as avid a drinker as a guy could be. He was obviously tanked... and I love how he looks like he belongs in another picture entirely, not this white kids in a bar shot. Shunta is there in back, next to him is Derek, who was from Indonesia, Scott with his fist up in some sort of white-boy cool fist-making pose. And we have NO fucking idea who that guy in the denim jacket is/was/could be. And I'm all curly and cute. I don't look like I belong there any more than Agrey.
Agrey lived across the hall from Doug and Scott, and Derek lived next door from Agrey. It was sometimes hard, but the Kenyan, the Indonesian (who spoke the best, clearest english of them all) and Shunta would try and discuss religion, God, America and all sorts of other international ex-patriate topics in Doug and Scott's room. What a fun time. They got along like brothers, and I really had a blast hanging with them. I totally wonder where Agrey and Derek are today. Not to mention our Shunta. We saw him one other time after we moved to Atlanta, his cousin T.C. was living in Atlanta, and took us out one night because we had NO money. I have a really cool picture someplace of Shunta with our stupid cat Linus. I can't put my finger on it right now though. Scott in Chicago rounds out or guy side of the wedding party, and is another big writer of my life. When I first got email, so did he. We probably spent more working hours writing each other and making up these ridiculous stories and cracking ourselves up all day every day. We got paid while doing that. When he left his job, I was crushed... I was afraid we'd never regain that level of email writing frivolity, but oh, I was wrong. It followed us through a couple different addresses, and helped pass many a dull day at a desk. He's getting his doctorate now. He's a supergenius. I love him dearly. He has a laugh that is high and infectious, laughs through his teeth and grins and squints like a madman, and makes you laugh with him. I miss laughing with him daily. But I wish him all the luck ever while he does that dissertation.
Candids from our wedding. I have thousands of wedding pictures. Some day, perhaps I'll do a wedding album, but I specifically wanted to post these two pictures.
	This picture is actually world-renowned. Or is it world renown? I forget. Shoot me for misuse of the language. That's CJK in my wedding veil after the wedding. I love this picture. It is my favorite picture of him of all time. I plan on making copies for his children, when he has them, so they know their dad.
	You will notice a little somethin' somethin' on the noses of both Scotts here. I was drunk. I admit it. I went around to the three men in our wedding party, and put dollops of butter cream cake frosting on each of their noses. I told them that they had to wear them the rest of the day or else. And it was because I loved them that they were given dollops of frosting.
I distinctly recall dolloping Christopher's nose in the middle of the hall near the cake, I think I was talking to him and Bonnie, or perhaps it was my sister. He told me "I love this frosting, and I am going to wear it for the rest of the day and I will KILL anyone who wipes it off my nose, I swear. Kill them." We laughed and talked another minute or so, then my mother in law came out of nowhere with a napkin, wiped Chris' nose, and said "You've got frosting on your nose and it looks silly," and she spirited away. Chris had been in mid sentence when she did that. He stood there, stunned, not knowing exactly what to do. I think I peed my pants, well, my dress. It was priceless. I believe he wanted to slay her. But, note the woman still lives. I like these little closeups because Scott (from Chicago) has his gay 80s plastic glasses on. And I totally dig his Zeke beard. Luckily Mrs. Scott managed to get him to trim the thing down and look more stylie, while still maintaining that Oregon Extention spirit by keeping it! Smitty here has this "are you happy, woman?! you make me look like a TOOL" facial expression. I love the smirk. He's killah funny. Well that's it for now. I've got the scanner and tomorrow, I think I'll find more funny crap to scan. Mwah ha haaaaaa. There are grandparents, parents, college roommates, kids... more friends. Dang. There are so many to think and write about. That's why I keep the journal.

The mess you leave behind...

They say to live life fast and leave a beautiful corpse. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. There are also other things you should leave behind. Or not leave behind.

Leave behind a legacy that doesn't leave people angry, shaking their heads in confusion.

Leave behind family and friends who don't have to leave out the details of your life's ending because it is too painful or embarrassing for them, for your sake and the sake of your cherished memory.

Leave behind tears of joy when you go.

I don't care if your corpse is beautiful or not... no one will. Just make sure the circumstances and situation you leave behind don't add extra pain for those who are going to have to contend with it.

Right now I'm sitting in the wake of tears of joy, anger, screams and shouts.

I am sick to my stomach.

I've been fielding calls from people who have heard, people who don't understand. I'm trying to be helpful to his and his mom. I want to do more to help, because I feel as if I was a miserable failure when trying to help him when he was still here. And perhaps it will make me feel just a tad better.

I am kicking myself for not being there at the door to pick him up from rehab with an iron grip and piercing gaze, and a hug that says "I love you and want to see you make it this time, please please please be good..."

I'm mad as hell at him for telling me on the phone day after day in the last month "Yeah, everything is great! I'm out of rehab and doing super!" Because once again, the lies were easy to believe.

I talked to his sister today, she's trying to arrange to get the contents of his car from the place where the Beverly Police put it -- up in Lowell at the dealership where she got it for him.

We am going to help her get his things. I am waiting to hear back from her as to when we can go to get it.

I want it to be today.

I want to be done with these people from that phase of his life. I had as little to do with them as I could. I know them by name, by sight, and trust me when I confess to you that the first thing on my mind when I think of them is how can I inflict as fast and furious an injury upon them as possible.

But that wouldn't change anything.

My best friend is still dead.

All I want out of there is his guitar, and to see if he kept a journal like I told him he should... His sister wants his computer, because it is valuable monetarily and she doesn't want anyone to profit from his death, even if it is for a couple hundred bucks. I can't blame her at all.

I want to make sure that his mom has the guitar in the end, to do with what she wants. To save as that part of her son which through his good times and his bad times was always constant... Whatever sort of memorial we have, I will ask her for the guitar to have it sitting there unplayed and untouched on a guitar stand. Hopefully we can find it. Hopefully it hasn't vanished. It is such an important icon for me about him, that if it's lost I'll cry and cry. It will devastate me to no end. It's all anyone has left.

---

One of the funniest memories I have of him involves that guitar. He had taken my position as the helpdesk coordinator at the college when I became webmaster, and really loved working with the kids. He had a long history of youth oriented work with the YMCA and other camps, and working with kids, even college kids, was so important to him.

Work was sometimes no fun, so he decided with a couple other guys who played instruments that they should jam at lunchtime and have some fun. There was an abandoned piano in an empty part of the new building where we were stationed, so he and the kids wheeled it into the helpdesk area and up the stairs.

At lunch, one kid would play piano, he would jam on his guitar, and all they knew how to play was "Wonderwall" by Oasis.

The director of the department caught wind of the piano one day and marched up into the room. The piano was tucked up against the wall when it wasn't being played. At this particular moment, everyone was working. He was standing in the room talking to one of his employees, a student ready to go out into the field to do the thankless dirty work of fixing yet another broken computer on that campus.

The director was angry and pointed at the piano and said "What is THAT doing in here?"

CAL turned and looked, and as if seeing a big pile of jewels or something you wouldn't expect to see sitting in the shop, he yelled 'Ah!!!!! Where'd THAT come from!" with astonishment.

So much so that everyone in the room, except the director, cracked up. I mean, we were peeing laughing. And he was too.

But the director was furious. "Get that out of here..."

He and the kids didn't have the time to justify that it was there only to bring joy to the hearts of the "sled dogs" during their once a day lunch break. It was good while it lasted, but just one of many examples of what he had to deal with, and how his vision of work was different from that of the boss.

Guess who the kids respected more.

Guess who they loved more.

Guess who people miss when he's gone. Yup.

I just got off of the phone with one of the guys who worked for him, and he broke down in tears while we were talking. That kid is working at a major university in the Boston area doing help desk work. He learned so much from him. So much more than any liberal arts college or history professor or math teacher could ever teach him.

I hung up the phone and cried and cried. Oh my God. I can't believe he's dead. I am so sad. I am so sorry for this... I am so going to miss him.

And the thing that is pissing me off more than anything is the loss of potential. The what could have been. What should have been. There are so many people who SHOULD have for years to come enjoyed that kind of mentoring. That kind of friendship. This is so fucking unfair.

He changed lives while being someone's boss. He wasn't just someone's supervisor, the guy you go to and say "uh, whattaya want me to do now, boss?"

He was awesome and wonderful and caring. People wanted to know him. People wanted to work with him. He was so much better than people ever gave him credit for. He changed and helped so many people.

The thing I loved about him was he was all about business when it was time to be all about business. He took work seriously. He taught the kids. Worked beside them instead of supervising over them. He was above them but among them, in the trenches, not in meetings deciding how to incorrectly do things around campus.

But when it was time to just kick back, even a little, he wanted the opportunity to give people joy. And again, he was with them. Enjoying as much as he could with them.

The piano was just one example of how he wanted to make life at the college a more enjoyable place for the guys who busted their asses day in and day out for thankless end users and administrators and faculty who played political head games with one another and the department at the students' expense.

He wanted people to have a nice time. He always recognized that. And no one is having a nice time right now.

So, if your mission in life is to make sure people have a nice time, when you die, do me a big favor, wouldya? Make the circumstances less painful. Make it so they'll cry remembering how wonderful and super you were, recalling funny crap, instead of lamenting what could have been.

Make the loss be just that -- a loss of you, not a loss of you and what could have been in your future.

Don't leave your friends and family saying that it's a crying shame.

---

By the way, in his drug use, I wanted to make it clear that his heroin use was not via injection.

So if you knew him, don't picture him sitting in a room melting heroin on a spoon and tying off his arm to shoot up. He sniffed it. It's a lot more expensive that way. Always, always the more difficult path for him.

He hated needles. And when he got into this I shook my head and told him that he's the only one in the whole big circle of friends he was making who was a sissy. I didn't want to challenge him to shoot up, I just wanted him to realize he was such a nancy and that perhaps this scene was not for him.

He laughed, and he shrugged and admitted it. He was a nancy when it came to pain. I just shook my head and told him that he had to stop doing this to himself. He stopped laughing, bit back tears, and nodded. "Yeah. I will."