...That's a Wrap

From left to right: Grandpa Van Vorhis, my dad holding me,
and my great-grandfather, "Cap."

My apologies for not posting on my blog early Wednesday morning, as I have worked very hard to make my habit. I had good intentions, but I got a text.

The text came from my mom, consisting of three single-syllable words: "Please call me." This text felt different. There was no "love you," or "miss you," or "found a shirt you would like." This text carried weight. Deep down, I knew what that weight was.

So I called her right away, keeping my concern low, not ready to tip my hand that I knew what was coming. Being a pessimist sucks. My church calls it "the gift of prophecy." I call it the opportunity to say "I knew it," or "I told you so." Suffice it to say that I was having a less-than-stellar Tuesday, and I knew that whatever mom had to say was going to make it worse.

I knew it.

"They called 911 for your grandpa this morning and now he's unresponsive. He's dying. This is it."

I knew it.

We went through the process of where is he, should I come up, what do you need me to do, and keep me informed. This was around 5:45 in the afternoon.

At 8:15 p.m., while at work, I got a text from mom that said "Grandpa is gone."

Grandpa and Grandma sorting mushrooms in their kitchen
sometime in the 1980s.

I know that people are going to freak out that my mom sent a text to tell me the news. Spare me the vitriol. It was a planned communication since I had to be at work.

Grandpa died at age 94. He joins Grandma, wo died Feb. 10, 2011 at age 87

I think we all have regrets in life. I have regrets concerning Grandpa. I could have spent more time with him, tried harder, made an effort to figure out some things that it was never my responsibility...or my right...to poke my nose into or try to make sense of. I totally ended that sentence with a preposition, and I refuse to change it.

Grandpa was a woodworker. It was his hobby. He made me everything from a simple pair of drum sticks to items as cool as a toy box shaped like a barn, a magazine rack, and a wooden step stool with feet that flip up for storage. I still have all of those pieces. Everything he did was intricate. He saw a picture of a coffee table in a magazine and sent in for the instructions. I remember when he made it, over a period of months, and yet it still feels like that coffee table has been around forever.

I talked about my grandparents in my June 5, 2011 post, Memorial Day....more that military for me. I also talked about them in my Jan. 10, 2012 post, Family Traditions: Times They Are a-changin'.

A few memories before I go:

• I vaguely remember getting my barn-shaped toy box. 
• I remember Grandma and Grandpa coming to baseball games.
• I remember Grandpa, while still wearing his hat and maybe even his coat, laid down on the kitchen floor with me and helped me figure out how to put together a Matchbox race track. I have a picture of he and I lying on the floor sitting around somewhere. I wish I could find it.
• I remember eating out for my 16th birthday at Bombay Bicycle Club in Toledo.
• I remember Grandma and Grandpa taking me to bingo day somewhere. I don't know where it was. I just remember that it was fun.

Like every good film, every wonderful life must come to an end. I hope you can understand why I missed my early Wednesday regular post.

Grandma and Grandpa in their living room long ago.

Grandpa Cap, my grandfather, and his brother, Floyd.

In Memory of Jimmy Stewart

Source: http://goo.gl/6Cjcoh

Stewart in his later years.
Source: https://goo.gl/00uxH7

James Maitland "Jimmy" Stewart, died on this day (July 2), in 1997.

He was born May 20, 1908 in Indiana, PA.

Jimmy (not James....Jimmy) almost didn't have to act. He lived an upright, honest life and was as trustworthy as George Bailey himself.

Stewart is often described as “Everyman” in his roles. Although it was a role he reprised several times, never was it more obvious than in the films he made under the direction of Frank Capra, including It’s a Wonderful Life and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.

“The part of Jefferson Smith in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington constitutes the quintessential Stewart: the upstanding, all-American, small-town boy, loyal to his family, his country, his church and his ideals; the personification of ‘rock-ribbed honesty,’” said biographer Jonathan Coe (43).

This persona was not a new role for Stewart. It was a role he lived off of the screen, as well as on. Stewart grew up with strong family and religious ties in his home town of Indiana, Pa. Later in his life, this small town dedicated the Jimmy Stewart Museum as part of the Indiana, Pa. Library.[i] In 1985, a statue of Stewart was erected in front of the museum. It faces the lot where the J.M. Stewart and Co. Hardware store stood before it was razed in 1969.

Stewart biographer Jonathan Coe calls Stewart an “incorruptible American patriot” (9). Stewart was able to further solidify this image when he enlisted in March, 1941, and became an officer in the Army Air Corps and a bombardier pilot during World War II.

Coe has drawn parallels between Stewart’s real life and the life of George Bailey. Stewart signed on to It’s a Wonderful Life on Nov. 5, 1945 (Coe 78). In addition to coming from a background similar to George’s, Coe says Stewart was drawn to the part for another reason:

“There were reasons, in fact, why a story about a hero who feels ‘despondent’ might have exerted a strong personal appeal to him (Stewart) at this time, since he was profoundly shaken by his wartime experiences, which caused him to doubt both his faith and the fundamental worth of his career” (Coe 79).

Coe’s statement does two things. First, it suggests that Stewart’s despondency reflects the country’s feelings immediately following World War II. It could have been the same despondency that prevented It’s a Wonderful Life from being a box office success. Secondly, Stewart’s life at that time reflected It’s a Wonderful Life, with Stewart doubting his own faith and career, as George Bailey does in the film. George always talks about and dreams of being an engineer or an architect, but never about being an executive of a lending company. George constantly doubts his job and its value.

My note from Karoly in which she gave me
Stewart's address. (Source: Blogger's private collection)

Through my friendship with Karoly Grimes, who played George and Mary's youngest daughter, Zuzu Bailey, I was able to get Stewart's address. I came right out and asked her for it, and I expected it to be denied. I told her that I only wanted to send him a copy of my college research paper about the film. To my surprise, she gave me his address. I filed the letter away, graduated, was hired a job at at my hometown newspaper just two days after graduation, and moved into my first apartment. 

I soon learned a hard lesson about not putting off until tomorrow what I can do today. On July 1, 1997, I was sitting on my porch when I realized that I hadn’t yet written to Jimmy, even though I had his address for nearly two months. It was late, so I decided to write to him the next day. As you may recall, he died July 2, the day I was going to write to him. That was a rough day for me.

This post is a tribute to Everyman....Jimmy Stewart. If he were alive, he would be 108 years old.

Here is a great interview with Stewart from 1989:

-------
[i] The Jimmy Stewart Museum is located at 845 Philadelphia St., Indiana, PA, 15701. To contact the museum, call (724) 349-6112 or toll-free at 1-800-83-JIMMY, or e-mail curator@jimmy.org. Visit online at www.jimmy.org.

Source:
Coe, Jonathan. Jimmy Stewart: A Wonderful Life. New York: Arcade Publishing, 1994.

Two artists, two lives, two tragic ends

Amy Winehouse died July 23, 2011, age 27

Jani Lane, lead singer of Warrant, died Aug. 11, 2011, age 47

Winehouse didn't surprise me...it was just a matter of time. That is not a judgment on HOW she died. I defer to the official autopsy report and the still-pending toxicology report. I am simply saying I'm not surprised.

Jani, a guy I started listening to when he was the lead singer of Warrant (and as I pointed out many times before, my first concert...not to mention my first live national act performance ever, as Warrant was the opening band) surprises me.

I am bummed by both.

Winehouse had this sassy screw-the-world attitude in her songs that had these jazzy-soulful undertones that I have never heard before. She had so much potential and I am disappointed that the world will not get to know more of her music. I am hoping for some unreleased tracks to be released, similar to Jim Croce.

Lane had had a huge impact on my life. I remember blaring the completely inappropriate teen anthem Cherry Pie (see video below) while on deliveries with my dad.

As crazy as this sounds, my "Birds and the Bees" talk went like this:

Dad (knocking on door and walking into my room): "Your mom wants me to talk to you about the sex thing. Any questions?"

Me: "Nope."

Dad (walking out and closing the door behind him): "Let me know if you do."

That's the last discussion we had about that exact topic.

Songs like Cherry Pie and bands like Warrant taught me - for better or for worse - about sex. And for this I thank Jani and Company very very much.

The only thought more frightening or depressing is that these things always come in threes. I'm not looking forward to seeing who is next.

Memorial Day...more than military for me

Image by Dead Legend
http://i635.photobucket.com/albums/uu78/Dead_Legend/AmericanFlag.png

Memorial day is past, but I still find it important to post this blog entry.

In fact, I started writing it on Memorial Day, but decided to wait to post it, in order to honor everyone I could manage to remember. Thanks to my Facebook friends who helped fill in the blanks.

The intent of Memorial Day is to remember and honor those who lost their lives in defense of this nation. I do. I thank and honor them. And I also give a shout out to my sister-in-law, Lindsey Kreikel, my brother-in-law (and Lindsey's husband) Aaron Kreikel, who is now in Afghanistan...or somewhere thereabouts), and my wife's cousin, Erik Bruns, who served in Korea, and is now in Afghanistan.

But for as long as I remember, my family also has used Memorial Day to remember and honor our family members who have died, regardless of their military involvement, or lack thereof.

The last 53 weeks has been difficult for our family.

On May 16, 2010, Jenn's grandfather, Robert Refsell, died in Iowa at age 85, following a very long battle with Alzheimer's Disease.

My great-uncle, Floyd Van Vorhis  (top row, third from left) died September 1, 2010, also at age 85.

My grandmother, Ellen Jane Van Vorhis (bottom left, sitting next to my grandpa, Emerson Van Vorhis) died Feb. 10, 2011 at age 87.

My great-aunt, Eileen Becker (back row, far right, next to Floyd) died March 30, 2011, at age 92.

During the last two Sundays, I have visited the grave of my grandfather, Cloyce Lance (shown with me many many years ago), who died Feb. 5, 1995 of cancer, and was buried on his birthday...his 73rd, I believe. He is buried in St. Louis Cemetery in Custar, Ohio.

On Memorial Day, 2011, I was able to drive out to visit the graves of my grandmother and Great Uncle Floyd, who are buried in the same row, along with my great-grandparents Frank "Cap" and Ina Van Vorhis, my great-aunt Willow Marie Van Vorhis, another great-uncle Everett Van Vorhis, and an aunt Patty Lou, who died in infancy, in Graham Cemetery in Wayne, Ohio. While I was there, I also found the graves of additional family members, who are my great-great-great grandparents, Hiram Newton Van Voorhis (spelled with two o's), his wife Sarah, and their son Owen, who died in infancy. It was a nice, surprising find. I had my camera with me, and I was going to take pictures while I was there to share with the Van Voorhis Association on Facebook, but I decided not to, out of respect for others visiting their loved ones.

I don't stop at remembering and honoring family. I also use Memorial Day to remember the friends, school-mates and co-workers who have died. That's a hard thing to do, because there are so many. I am 36 years old, and not including family members, I have lost more than 35 friends, school-mates, and co-workers. I quit counting when the number reached 35, but by now, there have been more than 40. I am sorry to say that I can no longer remember all of their names.

Here are the ones I remember (and some that others have helped me remember), based on where/how I knew them). I did not necessarily have close, personal friendships with all of them, but many I did, and all of them, I knew who they were. My apologies to those and the families of those whose names I have forgotten.

Otsego Schools:

Andrew Roller

Chad McVicker

Bowling Green Schools:
David McCutcheon
Jodi Krone
Kevin Korn
Ben Gedeon

Tiina Panksepp

Kevin Wolf

Maggie Quinn

Stephanie Sanders

Travis Bechstein

Alicia Castillon

Christa Allen

Julie Carr

Philip Lybarger
Brian Bell
Tiffany Martin
Eve Eriksen
Jennifer Place

Bluffton College:

Jonathan Kozlok
Duncan Makhulu
Andy Lehman
Jacki Rupp
Reginald Elkins

Work:
Sandra Smith

Chris Miller

You can donate to the Alzheimer's Association here, or to the American Cancer Society here.

Nurse Magic

I have known many, many cats. Smiley Miss, Friendly, Bugga, Cooper, Bynx, Punkin, Belle, Loki, our new cat Mystic, and Magic.

My ex-wife and I got Magic shortly after we bought our house in 1998. Lance had Bugga, and I had wanted an indoor cat for many years. I couldn't have one in college and the apartment where we lived wouldn't let me get one, either.

And really, I need to clarify: *I* got a cat. My ex-wife was allergic to cats, but she got better as time went on, and actually went on after the divorce to cat-sit for her parents' cat long-term.

I got Magic from the Wood County Humane Society. It's where we got Mystic earlier this month, and it's where we will go again if we get another. And in reality, Magic picked me. I didn't really pick her.

I walked in and sat down on a chair and decided to see how the cats reacted to me. Magic jumped up on my lap right away and became very territorial, hissing and swiping at other cats who neared me, licking my hand and putting her head in my hand to force me to pet her. I was in love from the word go. She was 2 years old.

I called my then-wife and had her meet me at the humane society that afternoon. My initial visit was during my lunch break, as I was working that Saturday. She came up, we got the cat, and I sent the cat home with her while I finished my work day. Magic whined in the car the entire ride home, and my then-wife said she would never ride in the car with Magic again. And she never did.

When Evan was born, we were paranoid parents, afraid that Magic would attack Evan or sit on his chest and suffocate him, or scratch and bite him out of jealousy. She never did. She was very patient and tolerant and wonderful with Evan. And while I was more relaxed and less paranoid when Kaleb was born, she was just as good with him and let him yank her tail and crawl over top of her.

Shortly after Evan arrived came the divorce and feeling lost and out of control and all of that crazy stuff that goes along with the irrationality of divorce. I got to keep Magic, and we moved into a friend's house for about a year. She was always by my side, and when I was feeling down and found myself lying in bed trying to deal with it all, she was right there, snuggled up beside me. I didn't pull her up there. I never forced the issue or trapped her there. She came up with me to make me feel better.

She always did that, whether we were depressed or sick. She was always there by our sides. Even the night before she died, she had been hiding almost all day, sick herself. Evan began throwing up, and I was with him in the bathroom keeping him calm as he vomited over and over again. Sure enough, here comes Magic to check on Evan and make him feel better even as he threw up yet again. She laid down beside us on the cold vinyl floor, and she stayed there with us.

Not feeling very good myself, I went to bed shortly after Evan left. I was in bed around 6:30 at night. My stomach was rumbling, I felt like I was going to throw up at any moment, and I had other issues going on that I will not speak of here. There was Magic snuggled up against me, making me feel better just by being there.

I think that is one of the main reasons I feel so bad. Even at the end, she was there comforting us in our illnesses. But she had been sick for two weeks, and had lost more than 5 pounds, and there was nothing I could do to make her feel better.

In the end, as she was dying at age 12 years and 9 months, all I could do was apologize to her for that, and to thank her for being with me through all of the crazy, stupid shit that I have put her through in the last 5 years.

I think, in the end, as much as I love Magic, the top 5 things I will miss the most are: 1) Her in the role of Nurse Magic; 2) Waking up in the middle of the night, lying on my side with my arm sticking out beside me, and Magic snuggled up beside me, spooning on the inside with her head on my arm; 3) The security of knowing that she is somewhere in this house, even if I don't know exactly where she may be at any given moment. 4) Having her to hug when there's nobody else to hug. 5) Rubbing her belly and play-fighting with her.

Here is what Jen wrote about Magic on our family blog, which is located at http://vanvorhisfamily.blogspot.com/:

"Magic is our yellow-eyed jet-black cat. She's a science-diet crunchin', bird watchin', squirrel scowlin' (good kitty), Kaleb toleratin', loud purrin', tail-swishin' girl. She's known as Magic Marie, Magic, Fluff, Fluffer-Nutter, Kitty, Baby-Girl/BBG, Miss Magic, Popper, M&M, Doodlebug, Doodles, and probably three or four others that we've missed. She holds the title of the most nicknames in our house."

I miss my baby girl.