nostalgia4thefuture

[nostalgia4thefuture]

I was missing Jeffrey today. No particular reason, it just happens sometimes and some days it’s harder to shake.

I was going through some boxes in the garage a few weeks ago and found this xerox picture he used to have hanging in his office. It was drawn by a kid from the school where a fatal traffic accident happened.

The quote below it is from Jeffrey:

I took a little time today to clean a new/old frame, iron and trim the picture, print the quote and frame it.

Sometimes the feelings are so big. You try to ride them out, but that doesn’t work. A little reflection, a little project, something to do.

Now to find a picture hook. I know just where this will go.

[nostalgia4thefuture]

I tell people, I’m a balloon that is filled almost to the point of bursting, and when you bring up my dead son, it’s like you’ve let a little out. It’s like a gift. I’m an ambassador from the f—king other side now, and I feel a bit of a responsibility, being in the public eye, to show people what grief looks like. It’s just so weird to me how we deny grief, how we shut it out.”

Rob Delaney

[nostalgia4thefuture]

That Time that Adam Sandler Made Me Cry

I have a twelve year-old boy, so you know what that means. Yep, Adam Sandler movies have started creeping into our Netflix queue. 

Now, I’ve always been a sucker for The Wedding Singer, and even Big Daddy had its charms, but for the most part, I’m happy to leave the man-child humor to the adolescents. But I kept hearing good things about his new Netflix special “100% Fresh”, so I flipped it on the other day while I was doing the dishes. 

I was expecting raunchy jokes and clever musical ditties. What I wasn’t expecting was to be moved to tears by his tribute to his friend Chris Farley. 

Turns out, I’m not the only one. Googling for a clip of the song “Farley”, I came across a whole bunch of articles about it. 

I’d like to think that grief has made me a more compassionate person, but the truth is, I’ve always had a snarky sense of humor. Back in the day, I gleefully posted about Hollywood gossip in the Pop Culture conference on The Well, ripping apart Melanie Griffith in a topic I titled “Rehab Diaries” and musing about “the most dangerous job in show business-- being the fat guy on ‘Saturday Night Live’” in a topic called “Dead Fat Comedians”. Yeah, not exactly the stuff that will get me nominated for a humanitarian award. 

But Chris Farley was one of those guys. He followed in the infamous footsteps of his hero John Belushi, and died of an overdose in 1997.

My eyes grew wide with recognition as clips of Farley’s most famous characters played behind Sandler: Chippendale’s Dancer, Lunch Lady, the “Van down by the River” guy, Gap Girl, and on and on. Then I nearly did a spit take when he sang: 

“We’d tell him slow down, you’ll end up like Belushi and Candy  He said those guys are my heroes; that’s all fine and dandy  I’m not making that shit up, that’s the truth about my boy Chris Farley.”

And then came the part that made me cry: 

“The last big hang we had was at Timmy Meadows’s wedding party We laughed our balls off all night long, all because of Farley But a few months later the party came to an end We flew out to Madison to bury our friend Nothing was harder than saying goodbye Except watching Chris’s father have his turn to cry“

Because Chris Farley is not the circumstances of his death. He’s not a big sweaty punchline. He was a crazy, funny guy, and his friends and family miss him. They still miss him. They’ll always miss him. 

“Hey, buddy, life’s moved on but you still bring us so much joy Make my kids laugh with your YouTube clips or Tommy Boy And when they ask me who’s the funniest guy I ever knew I’d tell ’em hands down, without a doubt, it’s you Yeah, I miss hanging out watching you trying to get laid But most of all I miss watching you fuck with Spade You’re a legend like you wanted, but I still wish you were still here with me And we were getting on a plane to shoot Grown Ups 3 It ain’t the same without you, boy That’s why I’m singing about I’m singing about my friend Chris Farley”

#adam sandler #chris farley #grief #friend loss

[nostalgia4thefuture]

I was so lucky to be able to attend many comedy shows with a guy who had one of the BEST laughs. I can still hear it, if I close my eyes and concentrate. We got to see The Groundlings several times when they appeared at SF Sketchfest.

But I will always treasure our pilgrimage to LA to see them in their natural habitat (The Groundlings Theater). We were expecting a light-hearted evening but right when we entered the lobby we were faced with a photo of Groundlings alum Phil Hartman, famous for his stint on SNL and “News Radio”, but always Captain Carl from “The Pee-Wee Herman Show” in my heart. Hartman was killed by his wife in a murder-suicide. It was awful. That picture reminded us that life balances the light with the dark, eventually.

I was really touched to hear Mike Myers talk about Phil Hartman’s death all these years later on “The Alec Baldwin Show”. Other than Dana Carvey, Hartman was the SNL cast member Myers had been closest to. He’d spent a lot of time with him and his wife and his kids, and he was in shock after hearing the news of his death.

When his castmates gathered for an impromptu wake, Myers kept exclaiming, “I can’t believe it. Brynn killed Phil, and then Brynn killed herself?”

Jon Lovitz, who was also in the cast at the time, said, “Oh come on, you’re making it sound worse than it was.”

Reader, I LOL’ed.

Myers went on to express his admiration of Lovitz’s humor and timing. He said everyone there at the wake laughed for a good half hour.

It is completely natural to embrace dark humor after someone you love dies. The number of “inappropriate” jokes my kids and I make about death and loss in a given week would no doubt make Queen Victoria do somersaults in her grave. But I know for a fact they would make Jeffrey guffaw with glee.

[nostalgia4thefuture]

Caregiver

Grandma and her “boys”, Bill and John

A lot of people at my dad’s residence remarked about “what good children” we were to our father. At least one of us visited him at least once a week from the time he moved to California (with Laura taking on the lion’s share of responsibilities for his care), and in the last month and a half of his life, one of us was with him for an extended period every single day. Number of regrets any of us has about going out of our way to spend that time: Zero. 

But I need to say, we learned the value of caring for our elders at a young age. I was very young when my father’s father died, and after that we visited my Grandma Newton at least once a year, or she visited us. She was absolutely our favorite grandma, always baking something or giving us treats or otherwise fussing over us. Even my maternal cousins who had no blood relation to her were embraced wholeheartedly as her grandkids. 

My grandmother fell and broke her hip in 1980, when I was 13. My dad and his brother made the decision that my grandmother should come and live with my family in Hawaii. 

It was a huge adjustment for her, one I didn’t fully grasp as a self-centered 13 year-old. She was a lovely, friendly woman who was lonely when everyone was gone all day at school or at work. When I got home from school she would pepper me with questions. “How was your day? How are you doing in school? Do you have a boyfriend? You’re such a lovely girl, why don’t you have a boyfriend?” You know, all the questions a teenager loves to answer. I’m afraid I wasn’t as kind to her as I could have been. 

But my parents were constant in their loving care. Imagine this: my mother, who worked full time as a nurse on the skilled nursing floor of St. Francis Hospital would go to work, come home, and then do all the caretaking she did at work for my grandmother. My father made sure we knew that caring for my grandmother was never a question. It’s just what we do. 

Ultimately, though, she needed more care than my parents were able to give her in their “free” hours. We moved her first to a Board and Care home in Honolulu, and eventually to a nursing home. All the while, my parents were a constant in her life. I spent many a weekend day going to see Grandma, bringing her fresh fruit, gently redirecting her from her kinda racist comments about her Asian roommates (she truly didn’t know that wasn’t okay), and taking her out for strawberry ice cream, her last and and fondest “vice”. 

I always knew my mother was very fond of her mother-in-law. It wasn’t until after I gave birth to Celeste that I learned why. My parents came to stay with us in the days before and weeks after Celeste was born. I didn’t know until later what an amazing gift and privilege this was. We loved my parents, and they loved us back! We hardly ever got on each others’ nerves! They were *actually helpful*! (Dude, my Dad CLEANED MY OVEN. I can’t even list the zillions of things my Mom did.)

One day soon after Celeste was born, my Mom and I took her for a walk in her stroller. My Mom started telling me stories about when she was a first-time Mom, and how incredibly warm and supportive my Grandma Newton had been. (I can only imagine how over-the-moon happy she was about her FIRST GRANDSON!) She told me stories of the little and big kindnesses her mother-in-law had heaped on her. Grandma Newton truly thought of my Mom as a daughter. 

Those couple weeks, and that conversation in particular, are a gift I will carry with me always. I hadn’t felt that close to my mother in many many years, and talking about my grandmother made me feel connected with her for the first time since she died. 

Fast forward ten years, and my mother’s health had declined greatly. She and my father moved to California permanently to be closer to their daughters. In the following two years, my father was devoted to my mother. We had a difficult time finding a facility that would let him live with her when she needed around the clock memory care, but we made it happen. He took her to meals, made sure she ate, made sure she was taken care of in the rare times he would go out on his own. When she passed, he was holding her hand. 

In his final weeks, I whispered these memories to my father. The last time I saw him, I tearfully told him the story of his mother’s kindness to his wife, and what that story meant to me. Though he was mostly unresponsive, his eyes shifted back and forth behind their lids, and his eyebrows raised. I knew he heard me. 

#loss #grandmother #parent loss

[nostalgia4thefuture]

John Edward Newton, Sr.

July 20, 1931 – September 9, 2018

John Edward Newton, Sr. passed away peacefully on September 9, 2018 from complications of Alzheimer's Disease. He is remembered for a lifetime of service to his country, his church, his community, and most of all, to his family. A native Californian, he was born July 20, 1931 in Los Angeles, the first child and eldest son of Mabel and Milton Newton.

John was an accomplished student, and won several academic awards before entering the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. After completing the Academy, he earned his master's degree at the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California. He earned many medals and commendations as an aviator and officer during his distinguished 23-year Navy career. His postings included instructor at the U.S. Naval Academy, Commanding Officer of Attack Squadron VA-113, Office of the Chief of Naval Operations at the Pentagon, Operations Officer on the USS Enterprise during the Vietnam War, and Staff of the Commander-in-Chief Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor.

John married LaVaunna "Wannie" Patterson in 1955, and their family grew to include son John, Jr. and daughters Laura, Alicia, and Carole. After retiring from the Navy, he settled the family in Hawaii. He earned an MBA from the University of Oklahoma, and enjoyed a long career as a computer science instructor before taking a position with the state of Hawaii as a Budget Analyst.

John and Wannie were founding members of Christ Lutheran Church in Mililani, Hawaii. He volunteered countless hours with the local Lions Club and as a guide at the Pearl Harbor Memorial. His post-retirement life was filled with international travel, singing with the Honolulu Chorale, and teaching abroad.

After 37 years in Hawaii,  John and Wannie made the decision to return to California to be closer to their daughters. As Wannie's health declined, John was a loving and devoted caregiver before her death in 2013. He moved to Sunny View in early 2014, quickly becoming a friendly fixture in the community.

John was preceded in death by his wife LaVaunna, his parents Milton and Mabel, son-in-law Jeffrey McManus, brother-in-law Archie Hovey, and sisters-in-law Dolores Hovey and Pat Newton. He is survived by his son John (Loveday); daughters Laura, Alicia, and Carole Newton McManus; brother William; and grandchildren Michael and Helena Newton and Celeste and Revelin McManus. He is also dearly missed by his nephews, nieces, and the many, many individuals whose lives he touched as a teacher and volunteer.

He will be laid to rest next to LaVaunna at the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Honolulu, Hawaii at 2 p.m. on Friday, November 23, 2018. A reception will follow at Christ Lutheran Church.

#loss #obituary #parentloss #fatherloss

[nostalgia4thefuture]

A little over a year ago, I went to visit my Dad in his retirement community. He wasn’t in his room, which was usual for him. He’s a social guy, and hates to feel like he’s missing out on anything. He was always walking about, looking for an activity or conversation to be part of.

I eventually found him sitting in the newly renovated “Garden Room”, which has a big picture window overlooking a lawn, some rose bushes, and a big tree.

I greeted him.

“Oh, hello, hon,” he said. I didn’t realize until recently how much I’d miss that casual greeting. Not effusive, but always warm and sincere.

“Now look at that squirrel,” he said, pointing out the window. “Back and forth. He doesn’t stop.” I sat next to him on the lumpy loveseat and observed one of the many lucky squirrels who have the good fortune to live in a retirement community where tasty treats can readily be found on the walkways. It streaked across the lawn and up the tree.

“I don’t know what’s going on there,” he said, gesturing toward the solar-powered dancing flowers that someone had placed in the windowsill. We chuckled at them together.

I talked a little about our lunch plans with my sister. He interrupted, “Look at that squirrel. Back and forth. He doesn’t stop.”

I nodded.

“And I don’t know what’s going on there with those things,” he said, gesturing at the solar flowers again.

We went on like this for about twenty minutes. Squirrel. Solar flowers. Lunch plans. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I don’t know what got into me that day but I just... rolled with it. The universe granted me a replenishing supply of patience and I “oohed” at the squirrel each time and met the solar flowers with surprise each time. I felt calm.

Suddenly I realized THIS is what I’d been looking for for years with a practice of conscious breathing, meditation, and (very occasional) yoga. THIS was mindfulness. Just observing with my father what was right in front of us. Over and over and over again.

The beginning of life and the end of life are mirror images, the minutiae of each hour becoming so all-consuming that you don’t realize the passage of a morning, an afternoon, a whole day. There’s a grace to it, a peace, that day to day life seldom gives us. When you have a newborn you have no choice but to give in to it. With an elder it’s more deliberate, and much more bittersweet.

[nostalgia4thefuture]

“Can’t We Talk About Something More Pleasant?” Epilogue https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/07/25/epilogue-by-roz-chast

#cemetery #loss #sibling loss #parentloss

[nostalgia4thefuture]

It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.

Lemony Snicket, The Reptile Room

[nostalgia4thefuture]

[nostalgia4thefuture]

The humans behind the clickbait. This is awful, but it has a happy ending. 

[nostalgia4thefuture]

#kbo #keepbuggeringon

[nostalgia4thefuture]

Note to my past self: GET A GRIP, you have NO idea. Also 😔. Stupid Facebook Memories. 

[nostalgia4thefuture]

I’ve learned that grief, while definitely a process, does not have an end. Like the air you breathe, it becomes an element of your mere existence. Just as I wake up every morning and breathe oxygen, I wake up every morning and carry the loss of my mom. I can’t let it go or leave it behind – no more easily than I could choose to breathe something else.

Sometimes, when I explain this to people, I can tell they think this means I’m stunted in my healing process, or that this sounds incredibly unhealthy and infinitely sad.

But here’s the thing. It’s not. It’s actually kind of amazing. By carrying this loss with me, it has become a part of who I am. In many ways, I believe that it has become my greatest strength.

Heather Varner, http://unvirtuousabbey.com/2018/06/12/leaning-into-grief/

#grief #loss #resilience

[nostalgia4thefuture]

What’s the worst thing that happens? It fails? So what. That’s not the worst thing that could happen. I survived the worst thing that could happen. I can survive anything. I’m a fucking champion.

Stephanie Wittels Wachs, “Everything is Horrible and Wonderful “

#grief #loss #resilience #mourning #survival

[nostalgia4thefuture]

At the rising sun and at its going down; We remember them.

At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter; We remember them.

At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; We remember them.

At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer; We remember them.

At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn; We remember them.

At the beginning of the year and when it ends; We remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as We remember them.

When we are weary and in need of strength; We remember them.

When we are lost and sick at heart; We remember them.

When we have decisions that are difficult to make; We remember them.

When we have joy we crave to share; We remember them.

When we have achievements that are based on theirs; We remember them.

For as long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as, We remember them.

Sylvan Kamens & Rabbi Jack Riemer

[nostalgia4thefuture]

Via @chibirdart

#kindness #compassion #empathy