Trey

Five bullets, six minutes.

That's the last line in the article on the New York Post website which details the first day of testimony in the trial of Sean Salley, 29, and Andre Smith, 31 in Manhattan. Known as the Carneige Deli Massacre in the press, on May 10, 2001 a woman's apartment was raided. Five victims were shot gangland style. Three dead, two survivors. And they are now the star witnesses in the trial.

Why does this concern me?

Well, one of the dead is a member of my extended six degrees of separation. His name was Charles Helliwell, better known to everyone Trey, and he was 36. One of the victims who survived was his girlfriend.

I last saw Trey and his girlfriend at Bonnie and Duncan's wedding. I had met him before once or twice before that memorable, but can't pinpoint the moment I met him in my mind. The wedding day has him burned into my mind.

I remember him being hip. Totally and painfully hip in a really campy and self-effacing sort of way. Too hip and he knows it, too silly, and he knows it. And everyone loved Trey. Bonnie's parents, Duncan's parents...

He provided the way too incredibly cool car for the married couple, and served as driver. He wore brown corduroy hip huggers with a two or three inch thick belt, and a pink tuxedo shirt, and wicked cool Bono style wrap around sunglasses. He had awesome hair.

I danced with him and his girlfriend at the reception. He did a wicked cool twist kind of move. She invited me to all sorts of parties they were having that summer. She was so genuinely sweet, and I could tell that as a couple they were loved by all their friends.

I looked at my own life of non-hipness, and told her that I very much would love to go to the barbecue for Trey's birthday, the concert he was organizing, the way too fun for words Boston based shindigs that were all lined up. But we never went. We never go anywhere, and we seem to never take anyone up on their offers for entertaining us.

That was June 2000. Less than a year later, he is at a friend's house in Brooklyn, and her music studio / hydroponics lab is raided by Smith and Salley, acquaintances of hers. They knew her doings, knew what she had up there, and figured that it was easy money. But too many witnesses.

The article says that the two survivors missed death when they flinched, and the bullets missed their spinal columns and brains. They were injured, but able to call 911.

The whole thing is just so horrible. A lot of people would say that drug dealing and illicit lifestyles lead to bad ends. We've seen it played out before in our own lives. Jennifer was making some nice side money growing and selling weed to "upscale" customers, the hip and the musical. But to be given a bullet in the head? Was that necessary? I'm sure she thought what she was doing was cool and safe.

It just absolutely stinks, that staying the weekend with a friend who grows weed could get you killed.

I feel badly for Bonnie and Duncan, and all the people who knew Trey well. He only touched my life a couple times, but Bon would regale me with Trey stories and crack me up. He was a trip. The life of the party. And I'm so sad that I didn't get to see him again, or go to one of those parties that he and his girlfriend threw. I'm sad I didn't get to know him better.

I never took Bonnie up on her offers to go to the Cape to one of the rock shows he organized and promoted. He was so talented with that kind of thing. I had kids and felt like I was old and out of the loop, even though everyone else involved was pretty much my age.

I will always have the memory in my mind of him opening the door to the car for Bonnie and Duncan to get into for their ride to the reception, with this huge and very joyful grin. And his smooth moves on the dance floor. That's all I've got.

Walk On, Walk On...

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
And if your glass heart should crack
And for a second you turn back Oh no, be strong
Oh, Oh Walk on, Walk on
What you got, they can't steal it
No, they can't even feel it
Walk on, Walk on
Stay safe tonight
...
And I know it aches
How your heart, it breaks
You can only take so much
Walk on
Walk on

Thanks, Bono

He had in his possession every single U2 CD, single CD release, every EP, he has them all. They are in my living room. He wrote in his journal that their music gave him such joy. Throughout our friendship, they were integral, a cornerstone. We saw them together.

I'm keeping them.

---

The funeral went as well as funerals can go. His mom and sister asked us to join them at the funeral home for viewing. No one else was invited.

I can't even begin to talk about my thoughts and feelings upon seeing him there in a casket. It absolutely broke my heart to see his mom standing there running her fingers along his hairline above his ear the way mommies do to their little boys when they talk to them. I cried and cried and shit I'm starting to cry right now.

The tie I picked out looked great with the shirt that I brought. I thought they'd clash. But they looked fine. I was relieved. I forgot to bring the guitar to the graveside. I kicked myself for that -- I was so busy trying to get the program that I'd made printed that I braincramped and didn't realize until we'd gotten all the way to Beverly. By then, there was no time to turn around and go back. Mom and sis were so kind to ask us to come be with before hand. He didn't want a big funeral with public viewing. This would have broken so many hearts. It would have been devistating for people to see.

I'm glad people were spared that.

The funeral was well attended. I had hoped 200 people would come, but about 50 or 60 were there. People from the old gang at college, people from the college where we worked. People from the YMCA. It was a good mix of each of the three big circles that he swam in. The only circle not represented was the heroin circle. There were a few people I knew who would have been deserving to be there -- but his mom is really upset and didn't want to have them there. I can't say as I blame her in any way... I spoke to one of them and told her that they should go after.

I felt bad -- it isn't bad enough that they are shunned by their own family sometime, but a few of them were actually saved by his efforts. And they deserve to mourn too. So I told the woman I talked to that I'd go with her if she wanted.

I kind of feel like we're a bridge between two universes, Doug and I. It makes me so sad.

Meh. I weep. It's hard to really express what I feel.

The "program" came out very nice. The desktop publisher at Staples was super cool and helpful... and impressed with my work. I had to laugh. When he realized what it was he was kind of heartbroken and went out of his way to do it quickly so I could get home and ready.

After all that time I spent looking for the picture from when he lived with Gregg in Wilson hall, I gave up and used the one Naomi had scanned for me. Smitty called me last night and told me "I have this great picture of him playing his guitar in that room he lived in with Gregg..."

No. You're kidding me.

"Is he wearing a black t-shirt?"

"Yeah, I think it's a banana republic shirt."

He took the picture, not me or Gregg, but we each had a copy of it at some point... So Smitty has the original. I had no idea. So he's sending it to me. I know some people who want a copy of that... us chiefly among them.

I was on autopilot when I made the thing, and put the journal entry he had that I put here into the program. It didn't occur to me until AFTER Charles read it out loud that there were people there who didn't know about his drug use.

Oh my God, I'm such a friggin' IDIOT!

And it didn't occur to me that it might hurt his mom to hear, even though his openness with his own salvation and redemption was so clear. What the hell was I thinking! She didn't say anything when she read it. She was stunned I think.

And I'm kicking myself and kicking myself for not thinking. I thought the entry was so perfect and so explanatory. I talked to Gregg about it, and he expressed that while I may feel like I betrayed his mom by putting that in there, perhaps my big error may just do some good? Truth sets people free.

I hope? I pray.

---

We went to the beer works afterwards to do the thing he'd always told me he wanted -- he wanted everyone to get together for a drink, play some pool, and lift a glass in a toast. I lead the toast and looked out over the group, just about everyone who was at the cemetary was at the beer works, and I know how much laughter he gave each of those people. And it made me want to scream that he wasn't there and start freaking out, but I kept my composure.

The beer works opened the pool tables and took the panel off that makes you have to pay for pool, so we could play free. The waitress was hella awesome. The whole staff took us in and treated us well. It was a very nice gathering.

A lot of laughter, and a lot of fun. I talked forever with Bonnie, and we talked about how we always know the other one is "right there" all the time even though we don't get together enough and how that is a huge mistake. In the last 9 years or so, since Jessie was born really, the opportunities to be together thinned out. I had a baby, she was the urban professional rocking out to her boyfriend's bands... I was in bed at 9.

She's got a baby now, and her life is changed. And I have a feeling there will be more time together. I'm glad we didn't lose each other in this period of time -- the way we lost this week. And we have the time to regroup, renew, say the I Love Yous that we know deep in our hearts but don't say outloud often enough. It was good to have that.

All the buddies were there, Brian, Ben and Dan, Michelle, Dave, Tam, Gregg and Karry and Abbadabba, all the kids from the college, Jason, Justin, Ben, Doug, Julian (the piano player), Holly his old girlfriend from College came, it was so good to see her and her baby ... the circle was completed.

I had a blast, and I so know he would have been so happy. I left there with joy in my heart. I think in the end, we did it right by him, did just what he told me he wanted us to do. So I'm not the major cock-up I think I am.

I've talked to and gotten email from a lot of people who have just sat down and are re-evaluating what they've been doing with their lives, similar to what Bon and I talked of after the funeral. I have heard a lot of quietly stunned people say things like "I've let go of everything I once held as important and what's it going to get me if I die suddenly without reconnecting with friends, or apologizing, or having dinner with my mom..." so if anything, this time of reflection and personal repentance has come on some friends.

Me too. I picked up the phone and called some people to say out loud "I love you so much, and am so thankful you are a part of my life."

The best talk was with my buddy Gregg, whom I've felt very disconnected from over the past couple of years even though we spent time together and worked together. I feel like we were going through the motions. That once there was this firey happy friendship and now we're both just too tired to put in the effort. So it was a very awesome talk... and I'm glad to have had it.

So go, pick up the phone. I bet there are a couple people you have kind of lost contact with who you have always wanted to say "you rock my world and I love you" to... aren't there?

Perhaps it is your mom. An old boyfriend or girlfriend and you just have to let them know you're doing well and you valued what you had together and love them still but with that ongoing kind of love, not the I want to jump your bones kind of love. Perhaps it is God that you need to talk to right now, you feel disconnected from the divine, from the sacred. If that connectivity is clear and solid, all your relationships benefit. Whomever it is that you are called to reconnect with -- Go. Now. Do it.

Having no regrets is a beautiful thing.

And once you do that, Walk On.

---

Mom and Sis came to go through all his belongings yesterday afternoon. They left all the clothing and asked if we'd take them to the salvation army.

They left books & CDs and Doug said he was going to take them to second hand stores and whatever money he gets we'll donate to the YMCA on his behalf. His sister cried, because that would have made him so happy -- to know what he had left would go to the kids.

He has a palm pilot and a gameboy advance that he told his sister "I want Jessica to have these," a few days before he died and she had no idea why he'd want to tell her that then. Perhaps he had an idea that he wasn't going to be here long. So she's going to have us down to her place and make us dinner, and give Jessie the things he wanted to give her that she currently has in her posession.

Today is pouring rain. Doug said today that the sky is crying, just like Stevie Ray's song. Gregg said to me on the phone that the first thing that crossed his mind when we lost CAL was the Stevie Ray connection... the fact he took time to clean himself up, and that perhaps while we don't understand why either of them had to die so young, that God figured hey, I'm taking my boys back before they can mess themselves up again. Before they have to go through that again. I love them enough to remove them from their vessels, and leave a legacy behind which will bring a smile to some faces.

"The sky is cryin. Can't you see the tears roll down the street?"

He's Gone.

This is not the kind of thing I intended to write today. I wanted to rail about how much the ending of A.I. sucked. I wanted to tell you about our adventures Down East. But we got a phonecall last night that wasn't entirely unanticipated, but no fun to get just the same. And here I'm faced with reflecting on a life that shouldn't have been cut short.

A life belonging to a person whom I loved with all my heart.

I've mentioned him here before. I never talked too much about his situation specifically, because I held his confidence as sacred.

He was open about his attempts to kick heroin, even going as far as to just give everything up that he had, job, home, everything -- to go into a six month hardcore treatment program. And I never wanted it to be that just because he was open I'd be open. It wasn't my fight or my experience.

So in the background of my life, in the corner of my mind, a constant thought was held of of him. A constant prayer vigil. A constant knot in my stomach wondering when he was going to call me next... and now he isn't.

He died yesterday afternoon in Beverly Hospital. He was 34.

He got out of rehab on or about March 28. He was interviewing for jobs. I sent a letter of recommendation to Brandeis University for a job there in the IT department. He was working at a Mailboxes Etc... to make money while in the rehab and just couldn't wait until he could get back into academic computing. He met David Mamet while working at the MBE and had great discussions with him, after all, He was an English major in college and knew his theatre and movies cold.

He moved into a sober house right after rehab. He was supposed to come to my house yesterday afternoon and get that car we'd taken into holding for him while he went to take care of himself.

He had a cardiac arrest at some point while working on his car. They couldn't revive him.

That's all the detail I really know. We got a call from his sister about 8:30 p.m... I wish I knew more.

But I do know this:

He introduced me to my husband. He overslept my wedding. He used to bounce checks when he ordered bacon pizzas from Beverly Pizza parlors. He took my daughter to camp for free. He could beat anyone at "Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon..." we'd play it just driving down the street. I'd throw two actors at him and he'd connect them immediately, usually through "Tombstone," and we'd crack up laughing.

He had an infectious laugh. His whole body shook. He would cover his mouth and giggle like a girl just to crack me up. He was embarassed by his teeth, but that never stopped him from cutting loose and laughing hard. He was one of the most generous and helpful people I've ever known, but that always got him into situations where he was taken advantage of, either in work, friendship or in relationships. He always got handed the shitty end of the deal.

He loved to play stratomatic baseball, dungeons and dragons, guitar, and Magic, the gathering. While incredibly talented on the guitar, he couldn't sing to save his life, so I would sing for him while he played, and it would always make me happy... He introduced me to "Homicide: Life on the Streets," Ani DiFranco, Indigo Girls, MP3 storage and ripping. He was incredibly kind and loving to our children.

He is dead.

I am surrounded by what's left of his personal property. A car full of stuff, things in my basement... things that he never took out of the house when we told him to move out in 1999 which are in this room, my garage, my daughter's bedroom closet. A couple crates of comic books. A Rocky Horror Picture Show poster. His college ID which he left on the floor and I'm going to keep forever... I'd always said I would. All weekend my daughter wore a nice red knit sweater that he'd "outgrown" while living here. He gave it to me and I "outgrew" it too. It looks nice on Jessie. I had sewn the hole in the shoulder... and I thought of him every time I looked at her in it. How he would have laughed that she fit in it and he once did.

There are so many funny funny stories.

He was the most peculiar guy I've ever know. Liked the weirdest stuff. Got bored one day and tried heroin. End of conversation.

I feel like there should have been more we could do to help him. I think we did just enough, but couldn't do more because we were so removed from the reality he was choosing for himself. There was nothing we could do, but we did what we could.

I can't think of anything else to say. I feel like throwing up. I am still in the process of, well, processing what just happened. I'll write more later.

Joy will find a way

flying ants or some shit.

Sidebar note: I meant to get into this earlier, and will still talk about it, but I love the new Andy Richter show. Screw you if you don't and you think I'm a doofus. But I laughed my ass off watching it for the past couple episodes. Everyone thought he was an idiot for leaving Conan... but I like this show and hope he can keep the momentum up. Please watch it if you haven't yet... I want Fox to keep it on the air. Anyone with any inside knowledge on how the show is doing (I should just email Max Robbins from TV Guide to find out on the next time he is on the Howie Carr radio show in Boston) email me and let me know what you know. End sidebar note.

Got email from my dear friend Mr. Garfield who says:

I think you should get a new Guinea Pig and should work on a barn.

The new pet won't be just like pigpigpig ----- even these meek fellows have personalities ---- but you fell so quickly and entirely in love with pigpigpig, and I'd eat a porkpie hat if Geoff doesn't do at least a little better a second time. I'm not suggesting you use Guinea Pigs as Guinea Pigs, but if he's gonna grow up to be Lenny of Mice and Men you'd want to know now.

Oh my God.

Lenny in Of Mice and Men. Can I just confess that was the first thing that flashed through my mind? I've read the book a million times, and am especially fond of the version starring John Malkovich and Gary Sinise as opposed to the 1939 version with Burgess Meredith and Lon Chaney Jr., who scared me no matter what role he was in. I also hated the 80s TV version with crappy Robert "Beretta" Blake and Randy Quaid. Ugh. Malkovich's Lenny is the best ever, but I digress.

When all this happened, and Geoff told us what he did, and was sad... I couldn't help but think of Lenny and the soft furry sweet things that he just couldn't help but hug so hard, and how George felt, protecting and taking care of Lenny, running away with him from place to place to avoid consequences of the things Lenny did ... Please God, don't let that be what my kid turns out to be like. Please! I'm officially worried beyond belief now.

On a note to make you laugh, last night Doug found this very funny website which I've sent out to a bunch of friends but couldn't help including here. If you need a good laugh, I highly recommend it. And, I used one of the pictures to serve as a foil to My Sister's Former Co-worker Gayle. Linda, this is just what you've been waiting for!

Gayle used to refuse to go into the shop because she was afraid she'd step in oil and fall down. So many of her coworkers found that alternately infuriating and amusing... so, we continue the Gayle tradition. Enjoy Linda, enjoy enjoy enjoy!

Last night was the first night since I believe October that we slept with the windows open.

It wasn't quite warm enough to do so, and we limited the open panes to our room only. They were open about 1/5 of the way, and you could hear the creek running, and peepers, and occasional cars.

I love sleeping in the spring and fall with the windows wide open, before the creek starts to smell funny (late May), the spring is rife with noise and moist air. Freshly turned earth as gardens are readied, swollen creek and pond giving flow to the Merrimack. In the fall, you can smell the woodsmoke of stoves and fireplaces in the neighborhood, or the residual scent of brush burned in yards. Crisp and cold, and dry, the air wraps around my head, my face, like a soul blanket, and the sounds help me sleep deeply... they drown out Doug snoring.

I slept semi-fitfully last night. It would have been better sleep, but I was interrupted at midnight-thirty by Geoff who wanted a cup of water. I made him pee, then got him one half cup of H2O. He downed it like a Hells Angel getting a triple shot of whiskey at a biker bar, filled his cup up again to the brim and downed that. I guess he didn't get enough liquid during the afternoon. I knew I'd have to wake up at some point after say 3am to have him hit the head.

At about 4:30 I thought I heard banging and all kinds of noise coming from the living room. I got up, discovered Kinger dead to the world asleep in the middle of the floor, but no source of noise. I went to the bathroom, went to Geoff's room to get him up and he wasn't there.

He'd relocated to the couch, not sure at what time, but he was out cold, breathing the breath of deepest sleep... so he didn't make any noise. I guess it was a dream, something to wake me up to get him to the bathroom.

Recently I asked our pediatrician why he sleeps so heavily and straight through the night and has an accident once in a while. He said that Geoff, like many five year old boys, hasn't figured out how to self-wake and take heed to the call of nature. Girls don't seem to have a problem with this, or if they do, it is far less common than it is with five year old boys. Jessica wet the bed once when she was like three and a half... that was it.

Boys eventually catch on, sometimes as late as age 8. Dr. E told me to wake him up consistently around midnight, and make him go to the bathroom. Which I've been doing. Two nights in a row I slept through midnight, and he didn't have an accident. He got himself up or he just stayed dry, I have no way of knowing... suffice to say, Dr. E is right on the money. As the father of three boys, he has the inside track on what boys do, not just as a professional who got a degree but someone who has been through the motions three times over.

I took Kinger for a walk yesterday but no swim. It was a quickie walk because I realized I needed to go to the market and get stuff for dinner, so I was pressed for time once I realized the day had been frittered away right here.

Doug had a professional development meeting yesterday that kept him at his school until 5:30 and brought him home grumpy and annoyed. So I had dinner prepped. I had painted shelves, I finished the hardware needs for a project Jessie had for school. Yesterday afternoon turned out pretty productive even though I crammed all the action into the last hour before his homecoming.

This morning I took both kids to school and then took Kinger for a swim.

There is a pond across the street from our house, but the last time the dogs (Missy was there) swam in this end of the pond they got nasty sores on their bodies and I was thoroughly freaked out. I am sure they got sores from some sort of chemical pollutant or something. Whatever makes the creek stinky in the summer... the town said none of the septic tanks near the pond is in violation, that the smell comes from a bacteria that grows on the tree leaves and branches, and when the water levels drop the bacteria rots... just like what happens in Nahant and Swampscott down closer to Boston on the ocean (those in the area know exactly what I'm talking about). The smell lasts as long as the bacteria or the branches and leaves are wet... so when the water level in the pond rises and drops, and the heat bakes the exposed materials, the smell goes on. I think someone's septic tank IS leaking, because lately we can catch whiffs of it in the winter... when it is freezing out, so you can't tell me that it's from bacteria baking in the sun. What a crock. But I digress.

So we went to the other end of the pond, where no one lives right now. There is a proposal to build a shitload of houses around the other side of the pond and a lot of people are angry. I am not sure how I feel about it, that's for another entry... but for right now, it was lovely to park on the side of the road, throw a stick, and have my dog hit the water. He loves to swim, and will keep going for hours.

Last spring a swan came out on this end of the pond, by itself, which was weird because swans usually always have a partner and mate for life. Local environmental junkies and animal rights fans were saddened to see the swan by him/herself (no one is sure if it is female or male) and insisted that someone killed the other swan. There's no proof of that, but it is sad to see him/her/it swimming around. Jessica and I would feed it honey nut cheerios and sit on the guard rail across the street and watch it swim. It had a posse of about 10 ducks of different breeds that would swim with it. We thought it was awesome. It would come up out of the pond and eat right at our feet. Such a treat... we loved hanging with the swan.

Then it vanished. We didn't see it at all for the rest of the summer.

Today, I saw it again. It is living at the unpopulated end of the pond, tucked deep into the swampy part of where the pond meets the woods. It swam out to find out what we were doing, came out of the brush to the far right, honked a few times in a curious way, Kinger was fascinated... I called back with the honk and it got very close. It didn't get at all defensive or spread its wings. Kinger swam out to check it out, but it swam farther out into the pond... I had visions of Kinger not making it back, but eventually he turned around when he finally realized the swan wasn't going to let him have a good sniff. Then, after it realized we had no food and weren't swans, it swam back to where it was staying. I'm going to swing back later and try and get some pictures of it.

I ran around in the woods when I got home, trespassing on my neighbor's well marked land "NO TRESPASSING!!!" Asshole. It's the woods. I can walk in the fucking woods. Anyway, I digress. I will go over to the other side of the pond later and see if I can get the swan to come out and say hello. I'll be sure to bring honey nut cheerios. In the meantime, here are pictures from the creek and the woods right behind my house, and the primary reason I love living here. That and we can afford it. Those are the two biggest reasons.

From the edge of our property, you can see our church, and the back side of Jessica's friend Maddy's house. For the longest time the two girls have longed to build a bridge to span property edge to property edge... unfortunately, my neighbor's property is in the middle.

I climbed down low and looked west to where the street is. There is this big island in the middle of the creek which is visible most always. The neighbor kids have put all kinds of crap on that little island... broken lawn furniture, a broken trampoline. They suck.

A fleet of tiger lilies lines the area where Geoff likes to stand and throw rocks into the creek. This is visible from our deck and our side windows.

Evidence of the mill that once ran right behind where our house is today. There are TONS of bricks back there. Enough to build another house.

More lilies... this is behind our property line on a little ridge overlooking the creek. Our old landlord had a chair back here, and grew the lilies for himself even though they were on the neighbor's property. Back then, stuff like that didn't rightly matter.

More mill evidence... a fireplug in the middle of nowhere.

Vibrant. Verdant. Green. Spring is here! Spring is here!

I love our woods, even if they technically belong to someone else right past the tree line.

---

My tenant just came downstairs and informed me that her bedroom and their livingroom were FULL of flying ants or something. I went up, and sure as eggs is eggs, another sign of vibrant verdant spring. So I came down here to check out the situation and Jessica's room and picture window are swarming, the front door is full of them, my livingroom now has them. Fuck Fuck gah damnitfuck! Terminix will be here at 2pm. I called five "local" small businesses, local guys in the phone book. Got their answering machines. I would rather deal with a local bloke, but in this case, the big company was the last company I called, and they are having someone here ASAP.

Jen showered down here... she is all freaked. Her laundry, her TV, her bureau... covered. I'm freaked too because they're starting to get thick around the couch in my living room. The dude said not to spray or do anything ... just hang tight and they'll get her quickly. So I am going to quickly clean up Jessie's room, get the toys off the floor and the dirty laundry all taken care of. My skin is crawling! I hate this. If it's not one damn thing, it's another! MEH! MEH! MEH! more later.

What a hard weekend that was...

I am worn out.

It's almost 11 am, and I feel like I need a nap. I took Geoff to school because Doug got a late start. I woke up sad because there was no half dressed little boy snuggling up to me with a guinea pig in his hands whispering "isn't she cute? I love the guinea pig... Good morning mommy..." and it broke my heart. I could have just cried my eyes out right there. So I've been kind of down in the mouth, but trying to look on the bright side of life, even in the face of inadvertent death.

Geoff has been on best behavior since the pig incident, and I know he feels badly and is totally sorry. I've never seen him express regret, or remorse before, so this is all new. I'm sorry that he had to learn that his bad decisions sometime have bad consequences in this way, but I hope this lesson sticks with him.

Jessica already wants a new guinea pig. I told her no, not for a while. And when we do, we get a proper cage with a sturdy locking top that he can't open.

After I wrote about the incident yesterday, we had a funeral for Oreo. Jessica got one of her tiedye shirts, which used to belong to Doug back in the day. It had holes in it, and was all worn out. Hell, it must have been 15 years old... Doug looked shocked that it was her choice, but I totally agreed with it. She loved that shirt, and she loved that pig. They could be retired together. Geoff didn't take any of this seriously at first, which totally made Doug and me very nervous... what kind of a monster is he? Can he just kill a guinea pig and laugh it off.

Doug told me he thought the laughing when we would try and talk to him about what was happening was a nervous thing, but I didn't feel it was. Sometimes little kids laugh not to be mean or because they actually find humor in the situation, but because they are nervous and don't want it to show.

He was right. When we went outside, Doug had picked a place and dug a foot deep hole. He quartered an apple, and I wrapped the now very stiff guinea pig up in Jessie's shirt. I laid her in the ground (crying my ass off silently, whispering "bye pig,") and each of us put a quarter of the apple in with her, because it was her absolute favorite food. Then, Doug started to fill in the hole, and Geoff freaked out.

"Stop it! You can't do that! It's not true!!!" He started yelling. Right up to that point, he thought it was all alright. But here, seeing the reality of the grave, the finality of life, it hit him.

Doug let Jessica go in the house because she was very sad, she didn't need to see any more, but we made Geoff stay with us, and we talked to him by the now covered hole. She can't be woken up, the vet can't fix her, and God isn't going to make her alive again babe, she's gone.

He was really upset, and spent the afternoon crying and moping about the house. He played on the keyboard with Doug for a while, but he was certainly sullen, and very sad.

I feel horrible that we all had to go through this. I especially feel horrible about the guinea pig.

I looked up some stuff online about kids his age and death, why this happened, how to deal with it. We did everything right and he didn't do it intentionally or with malicious intent or depraved indifference (man, I sound like I'm on "Law and Order," don't I?), and it was an accident. Kids do stupid things like this, and man alive, I think it finally made a difference in him to see that not following rules and not listening to his parents does actually lead to bad ends.

I hope it really makes a difference in what he does in the future, and I am so sorry that the guinea pig was the "sacrificial lamb" to knowledge on his part. But I always try and see some sort of positive in things, ya know? And if the positive is that he finally gets it... well then hallelujah. I see Bart Simpson up on the statue of Jeremiah Obidiah Zechariah Springfield addressing the crowd with something along the lines of "this Sunday School student on the brink of redemption..." when they are ready to string him up for cutting off the head of the revered man's statue... and I think of Geoff. He's my Sunday School student on the brink of redemption... and I sure hope the lesson sticks.

No more guinea pigs for a while. Thanks.

---

And thanks to everyone who wrote me... I got some very sweet email from people. I guess that Lileks is right, that the web is a conversation, and I appreciated all the kind conversings that you folks did towards me. I'm humbled.

Earlier in the journal, Saturday to be exact, I mentioned we were going to Walden, to Concord, to places historic. Well, Doug found out they were doing a reinactment of Paul Revere's arrest down there at the national park, and it was supposed to be well attended, which meant tons of people and no fun for us, and we'd have to leave the dog home because he wouldn't be able to deal with the crowds... so we went to a place not too far from the house to walk. I took some pictures, here they are:

It wasn't Walden, but where we went did have conservation in mind. Here's the trail marker. It is somewhere we've gone a bunch of times. There's a good swimming hole for the dog(s). Aaron swam in it once. We learned there are leeches in the water there thanks to his experiment.

Geoff kind of looks like Kurt Cobain here. Piercing eyes. Grin. Blonde.
I thought Jessica did too at this age. She's grown out of that look.

Jess and Dog in the car... funny angle.

Aaaah, goood loooookin' doggie. He looks like the king of nature.

And another shot of Jess in car.

More of dog.

Me. Jessica insisted on taking my picture. I was harassing the kids by taking tons of pictures of them while Doug was in the store.

Geoff is a little nature boy. He loves to go for hikes. I look forward to having him all to myself for a while. We'll be doing this solo, with dog.

Doug and Geoff crossing a bridge, rather small in comparison to the old trees here.

Doug thought these buds was freaky. They were furry and grey, kind of like pussy willow, but on a tree, and they dangled down. We have no idea what they are. And I took this with a flash, so they look super funky.

Alrighty then. I have a curtain to make for Jessica's room, something to spray paint for a project for her for school which is due tomorrow. I have to buy rubber bands too for this (pictures coming, I assure you). And finally to finish up on the websites I've been building. I'm waiting for content from all three, one is 99% done. The other 80%, and the catering man's site is in its infancy.

My life... busy but boring.

To Grieve A Pig

I was very sad yesterday to read Shelley's account of the death of the one and only hairless pigpigpig Wilbur. I sent her a condolence email, letting her know I will think of her when I call our pig a pigpigpig, and to let her know I feel her pain.

Well, this morning rises and shines and we find ourselves pigless as well.

Geoff decided the guinea pig needed a bath while we were all sleeping. I'd been up twice this morning. The first time was to help him to turn on the television, the second was to make him come back inside because it was 29 degrees out and he was barefoot in shorts and a tshirt from sleeping.

I should have stayed up, this never would have happened, but I was tired and daylight savings time was kicking my ass.

Doug got up when the dog threw up (yes, the dog threw up in our bedroom, can't you tell this is just a gorgeous morning???) and went to get paper towels. He opened the bathroom door and the pig was in the sink. She was soaking wet, and there was no water in the sink and no Geoff.

Suffice to say, he either drowned her by accident or held her still because she was trying to get away. She was smelly, she needed a bath. So he says.

We grilled him and he said that she wouldn't be still so he had to hold her. So either he squeezed too hard or he just held her in there. Doug tried to revive her, when he picked her up he thought he felt a heart beat, but it was no use.

Geoff wanted us to call the Doctor and see if we could get her fixed. But it was too late.

I sat on the couch and cried, Doug lectured Geoff on what happens when you break the rules, the fact that every single day since she came in this house he took her out of her cage without asking permission, without asking a grown up.

Jessica didn't take it well. But she's already asked me for another one. The hell we'll get one anytime soon.

I'm not good with pet death. It is almost a year to the day (tomorrow) since we put My Missy down, and I'm just not emotionally stable when it comes to four legged death. So this is not a good time for me. This is bad. I'm sad enough about the pig, but have residual grief on Missy.

Later this afternoon I guess we'll bury her in the yard (Geoff said "YAY! I get to dig a hole!" to which we expressed displeasure, even though hole digging is one of his favorite things). Jessie is crying on her bed and will not allow any of us to console her.

chris farley and phil hartman...

Another day where I can pound out 2 entries in one day. I'm still waiting for the QA report, my boss left to go see Bon Jovi in concert (a 38 year old woman. She should be ashamed of herself. Bon Fucking Jovi? I mean really). I tried not to laugh in her face.

I've been thinking a lot lately about Phil Hartman and Chris Farley. While Doug and Jessie were away, E! Network ran their "True Hollywood Story" segments on both of them, back to back. I've never cried harder.

Chris Farley just breaks my heart. His face, his voice, his laugh... how he took everything way too far. And his brother's eulogy at the end of the show totally killed me. He took "the Clown's Prayer," which I guess someone wrote a long time ago for clowns, and turned it so that every sentence was about Chris

A Clown's Prayer

As I stumble through this life,
help me to create more laughter than tears,
dispense more happiness than gloom,
spread more cheer than despair.

Never let me become so indifferent,
that I fail to see the wonder in the eyes of a child,
or the twinkle in the eyes of the aged.

Never let me forget that my total effort is to cheer people,
make them happy,
and to forget,
at least momentarily,
all the unhappiness in their lives.

And in my final moment, may I hear You whisper,
"When you made my people smile,
You made me smile."
--Author Unknown

This is so appropriate for him. I sure do hope that God welcomed him into heaven even though he had issues. He struggled so hard with his problems, and tried so hard through his deeds and community service to make up for his sins. Sigh.

And Phil Hartman. What the fuck. I hate his stupid wife. I am so sad for their children.

I love Phil's voice and every single time I watch the Simpsons (which is twice a day at least) and he's on, I tear up. My husband started watching "News Radio" recently, and I just don't know why I never got into it the first time through on NBC, but not when I watch the show it is so bittersweet for me, and I can't help but love it. I'm glad there are little bits of Phil around.

I love when I'm listening to radio commercials and someone is doing their best Phil Hartman. Without any sense of Irony, Sarcasm... it's just damn funny.

I love the picture up in the corner, because Hartman played the the well-dressed, smarmy white-class elitist, and Farley the lout, bungler, poorly dressed buffoon so well... that this picture just sort of has them both in their element. I loved Matt Foley sketches, where Farley would rant about the Van Down By The RIVER! and break stuff falling around.

A lot of people contend there is a curse on the SNL cast, what with Belushi, Radner, Farley, and Hartman all being dead in 20 years... but I think that celebrity just leads to certain events. Gilda Radner got cancer, which happens, and so did Julia Sweeney but she survived simply by the benefit of having it 10 years after Radner did when treatment was more advanced. Drug addictions and the problems around them kill a lot of people, not just celebrities, and what happened to the Hartman family is just a complete tragedy and should never have happened. I don't think there's any sort of curse... unless you count Chevy Chase's continued existence as part of it.

I don't watch too much SNL anymore. I love Will Farrell and some of the stuff he does. He's got the greatest faces and is just so funny. But I don't know if his career would ever move to leading man status, the way Mike Meyers and Adam Sandler have of late. I think Adam Sandler is so funny too. But all of them put together can never be as funny in my book as Farley and Hartman. And even though it has been a few years since we lost both of them, they actually cross my mind on an almost daily basis. And I never even knew these guys.

But they sure made me laugh.