Remembering an amazing gal

It's been a bit over a year now.  The phone rang one morning last December and it was my gal pal from Montana.  She started out "I hate having to call you with news like this, especially when I have had a week to try and get used to it..."

One of those calls.  The call that you immediately feel your heart drop to your stomach and you know it is not something to celebrate.  I was weak knowing it was not good and knowing who it was about.

My friend Brenda had been taken off of life support and was gone.  From a car accident.  A patch of icy road and collision and though she lingered with help from machines, she was gone.  It was the height of irony...a car accident.

Brenda was one of the first people I got to know in my profession of Human Resources when I moved here.  She got me involved in the professional society, gave me tips on how to deal with crazy people (HR's typical day) and was my roomie nearly every summer at the annual international conference.  We took turns bringing the wine...I remember she giggled when someone brought Fat Bastard one year.

There was never a person with a better laugh, better smile, better attitude.  She was my hero and role model for positive.  She had been through it all I think.

One summer, I was not able to make it to the conference, she didn't either.  On the Monday after what would be the conference weekend she called me.  At 7:00 a.m.  Not her typical hour of girl talk.  Something was not right.

I asked what she had done over the weekend and she replied "put my husband in jail, it seems he has been a pedophile for at least a decade and when they go through his computer, probably worse."

I'm not speechless often but that did it.

In the coming months and into more than a year, she didn't say much, I didn't ask.  All I did was ask if I could do anything for her and she would reply "you are right now, you're here."  She did tell me now and then snippets of what had happened, what was going on, and eventually that he was off to prison and she divorced him.

God did bless her some time down the road after that, thankfully.  She called me and said, "you know I met this guy..."  I was leary.  I was nervous.  When Ms. Montana-pal called me to tell me about him, she gave him a HUGE thumbs up and I felt better.  And when the day came I met him, I thought he was amazing too.  He was perfect for her.  She was overdue for blessings.

She called one summer day to tell me that she was not going to the conference that year.  I wasn't and she knew that already.  But she said she didn't want the other gals (by this time there was a pack of us who went together) to tell me why, she needed to tell me herself.

Breast cancer.  Fast.  Clean mammogram in April, good-sized tumor in June.  Double mastectomy.  Chemo, the full monty.

Shit, one more thing for my sweet pal.

A year later we went to the conference together in Chicago.  She drove to my house and we drove to Chicago together.

With a stop at the outlet mall.  Man we loved shopping at the Coldwater Creek outlet store!

Warm and humid at home in Chicago in June.  We walked down Michigan avenue in the sunshine and she stopped and asked if I minded that she take off her wig.  Like I cared :)  She stopped at Michigan and Wacker (the busiest intersection in the city) and took off her wig, shook it like a dust rag, and shoved it in her bag.  Wiped her little Q-tip head and said "THANK YOU, that feels so much better!"  She laughed that great big laugh and said "Let's grab a drink now!"

Only my gal with her great attitude.

She later informed me that this deal with prosthetics was pretty OK because she had borrowed her mother-in-law's and they were bigger than when she had real boobs!

She found out later that she needed a hysterectomy with all of the genetics and cancer potential.  As luck would have it, the state conference was taking place the night she had surgery and I was speaking at it.  She was 20 minutes away.

The pack of us gals, sans Montana unfortunately, piled into two cars and found where she was in the prep area of the surgical wing.  You should have seen the surgeon's face when he walked in and it was not just my gal and her husband, it was a PARTY!

She pulled through and did fine.

She dealt with 3 downsizings.  SHE was downsized...

She was beyond kind.

When I passed my professional exam to get my HR credentials (which by the way is BRUTAL,) I roomed with her at the conference a month later.  I arrived at the room to a dozen long-stemmed roses and card from her congratulating me!  The vase was a lovely toilet brush holder :)  Brush came too if I wanted it.  She explained that finding a vase in downtown Philly was proving a challenge so she found a "substitute" at the dollar store.

She was scary smart.  Testified before Congress on FMLA and other HR issues.

She was an amazing cook.

She planted DOZENS of tomato plants, vegetables, herbs, flowers, berries...  and gifted me with jam, sauce, wine, pesto...  ALL canned and preserved and, and, and by her and her husband.  I still have a bottle of Barolo from her that I cannot bring myself to break into.

She was ALWAYS there for me.  For work, for personal things, when my parents and Max and Tessa died.  When I left my job and changed careers.  When anything happened.

She was ALWAYS there with this hearty and contagious laugh, this beautiful smile, this strength that I could not imagine anyone had given all she had been through.  She taught me to laugh through so many tough times, frustrating times, silly things.

And it was a patch of icy road.

She survived all of that with laughter, faith and love and it was a car accident that took her from us.

A year later, it still breaks my heart.  So much I want to chat with her about.  But now and then her email pops into my box and I know someone has probably hacked her account.  Maybe it's her, a sign...

But I choose to see her laughing as I see it and take it as that sign that she is guiding me as she always has.  And helping me when I ask her for it.

From a place with no cancer, no bad husbands, and no icy roads.

Girl, I miss you so much...

Grateful for those moments that make you remember and celebrate

We got home late yesterday from a trip...a bucket list trip.  So needed. So fun. And created memories as all of our trips do.

But one memory is special in so many ways.  For my Daddy.

So the bucket list trip started like this...we have a musician friend who plays locally and we love this man.  Kindest soul you'd want to know.  He played in Key West this past week and we decided to go see him.  The bucket list was to go into Miami and drive to Key West (in a Mustang convertible no less) and then a couple of nights in South Beach.  I had never been to either spot.  Hearing our dear friend play Margaritaville in Key West was frosting on the cake.

Booked it :)  Thank you AARP for having such amazing travel deals!  I can scope and book an inexpensive great trip like a pro if I do say so myself!

The hubs told me he had a fun thing planned that he was booking for our drive back to Miami Beach. A little boat ride.

To give some background on why this boat ride was special, you need to know about my special "things" with my Daddy.  I've written about some of the things.  But we had our own "things" as most Daddies and daughters do.

We loved Blackhawks hockey.  We loved beer (though he did not approve of "that light crap" I drank at one time.)  We loved photography.  We loved genealogy.  We loved tomatoes.

And we LOOOOOOVED Humphrey Bogart movies.

His faves were Maltese Falcon and the African Queen.  Mine is still Casablanca and Key Largo.  He and I used to sit on Sunday afternoons when WGN would play the classics and watch Bogie over and over again.  We talked details about which parts in which films we loved best and why.  We both agreed Katharine Hepburn was amazing and that Ingrid Bergman was the most beautiful actress ever.

So it was special beyond my wildest dreams that the "little boat ride" the hubs arranged for us was on the African Queen (THE ORIGINAL!!!  FROM THE MOVIE!!!) in none other than Key Largo.

Our last night in Key West we spent listening to our pal play and we drank blue margaritas and talked about the memories we had made in visiting Hemingway's house, the butterfly sanctuary, feeding the tarpon, lunches on the water.  We talked about the memory we would have in tomorrow's ride on the African Queen.

And then it hit me.

Our ride was to be on December 13th.  The day 9 years ago my Daddy moved to Heaven.

In our house we do not mourn our loved ones who have moved to Heaven.  We take those dates and celebrate and honor them.  If you've read this blog from the beginning you know a bit about that as I have written earlier about it.  We watch their favorite movies, have their favorite meals, their favorite drinks.  Talk about the wonderful times with them and laugh about those fun things.

So this.  This "little boat ride."  How more amazing could it be that it was on this particular day?  The hubs and I both sat slack-jawed in realizing the serendipity in front of us.

It was joyous.  It was bright and sunny.  I found myself caught between tearing up and giddy during the ride.  The captain was so wonderful, told history, told stories of things that happened on the set of the movie.  Had us blow the whistle and steer/drive the boat.  The hubs was giddy steering the boat himself, like a 5 year old on Christmas morning.

The captain had an old Gordon's gin bottle filled with water that I poured into the sea just like Rosie/Hepburn had done in getting rid of Charlie's/Bogie's gin in disapproval.  The hubs took my picture.

I know Daddy loved that one.  Gin was his favorite :)

I could feel him beside me as giddy as I was.  I could feel his smile.  I could feel his spirit elated at being able to be with me to share this amazing event.  I could see him standing next to the hubs steering the boat.  I could hear him laughing as I poured water out of that gin bottle for a photo op.  I could see him pulling on the cord sounding that whistle as we rounded a corner of a Key Largo canal.

And it was all the more special that it occurred on this day.  I made sure that ever minute of the ride, I honored those memories.  The ones in front of the TV watching old black and white Bogie movies.  And it made my heart full.  Made my smile wide.  Made me wonder...

Did you help make it happen on THIS day for a reason Daddy?

Here's looking at you kid (yeah I know, wrong movie...) and honoring you in a way that could not be more special, more fitting, more heartfelt.

And give that guy who stole me from you (kind of, not entirely) some credit too.  He arranged this gig :)

All my love Daddy, this was OUR Heaven,

Salgal

Grateful for a friend and mentor

I have a friend in my life that is also a mentor and I am grateful for so much he offers of himself in my life.

P4 is a fellow educator and all of his names...first, middle, last AND confirmation names, begin with the letter P.  Thus the moniker of P4 :)

Recently he shared with me that he is about to celebrate one of those "landmark" birthdays and has done some reflecting.  I think he is one of those friends that is a blessing and once-in-a-lifetime pal and I am lucky to have him in my life.  Allow me to reflect on P4...

P4 is one of those few people in my professional life that I have 1000% respect for.  Many I respect, many I like, many I think a lot of.  P4 has my complete admiration and respect because the fabric of the character and soul of this man is something we all should aspire to be.  He is a true friend in every sense of the meaning.

He is solid, never rattled.  Never have I seen him lose his temper or lose his focus.  He may not be happy with a situation but he stays the course and stays on task to remain his amazing professional self.  I have asked his advice more than once and upon hearing what he had to say with regard to issues I could not see clearly through, I was always amazed at his insight, always relieved that my friend never judged me, always grateful for solid guidance from someone I could trust.

He is a dear, kind, dependable friend.  We have gone through some tough things this in our family this last year and they have caused me a great deal of worry.  My blood family and hometown friends are 500 miles away and I have never really felt like there were a great many here where I live that I could call if something happened and I needed a friend to come stand by me.  P4 is one of those few.  I know if something dire came to pass, something that brought me to my knees, all I would have to do is pick up the phone.  That is who he is.

He is a deeply spiritual person.  I love the fact that this gentleman (and I do not use that term lightly with him, he is the TRUE gentleman women look up to) still holds his faith high and that I can hold a discussion with him about faith issues and spiritual matters. And though the topic may not be one we agree on in part or entirety, he understands and respects my thoughts and feelings.

P4 is also the kind of friend who gives you those words when you need to hear them and seems to know without being told exactly when that is.  If you've read my whole blog to this point, you'll know that we brought a young woman and a blind pup into our lives one night 11 years ago.  It was gut wrenching in the beginning with all they had been through and things she continued to have to deal with.  I recall vividly having a conversation with P4 telling him about what the hubs and I had done to bring them into our lives.  He looked me in the eye, with a lump in his throat said, "Sally, you need to know that not many people would even consider doing what you did.  You did the right thing and I hope you know that."  His support meant the world to me because I trust him that 1000%.  I knew we had done the right thing but hearing his words meant the world to me.

I trust him with things to the point that I can say "P4, did I do something stupid and make a bad move?"  He would never say YES, he'd say "awwww it's a lesson."  And then proceed to assist me in analyzing the "lesson" and advise if I asked, what my best move would be.

He's an amazing Dad.  Two amazing kids.  He would tell me stories over the years about things he did with them.  P4 is the Dad I had, the Dad we all hope to have or are grateful we do/did.

He's a loving husband.  I've never in all these years met his wife but it is clear that these two love and support one another.  He talks about her with a smile on his face every time he mentions her name.

Smile...P4 is the kind of person who, even when they are having a rough day, has a smile in his eyes and the corners of his mouth curved in a smile.  And the best laugh...it pulls you in and requires that you join him in high spirits.

P4 is encouraging, positive.  So many times I have had conversations with him and he never knew that I was having a lousy day.  His amazing attitude would always refocus my outlook and bring me to a new place.  When I have had new adventures, he encourages me, respects me, lifts me up.  When I am not in a great place, he makes me laugh and see life as it really is...a blessing, a lesson and a gift to be embraced.

He is the consummate professional.  P4 has asked me to collaborate on projects and we have shared projects together.  Every. Single. Time he is what every person pictures as the business professional.  I know I have never told him outright but there are situations that I actively go to my mind and ask myself "What would P4 do in this situation...because I want to freaking kill this idiot and I know he'd have a different solution."

SMART, holy cow.  I wish I had the knowledge and brains that my friend has.  And well-read is a significant understatement.  He can tell you what is going on in every part of the world!  Accomplished, intelligent, driven.  P4, you are a WOW in my world.

Here's to you and that landmark birthday you are reflecting on my friend.  You mentioned you are reflecting on how blessed you are.  Well, I am the one blessed with your friendship and hope to be until the day God calls us both home.  YOU are my blessing and you have no idea how many people think the same.

Here's to you P4, have a nice scotch and cigar on that birthday and  know that I think you ROCK.

Grateful for a Father's love

Today is my Daddy's 85th birthday.  He moved to Heaven 9 years ago next week so I am celebrating his life next week with a toast instead of tears.  It's a tradition now, honor instead of mourn.  But I still miss him every single day.

He taught me how to ride a bike.  He taught me how to embroider when I was 14 and my appendix ruptured and I was home in bed.  He taught me how to load ammo and fire a gun before I could drive a car.

He taught me about living in abundance and giving back.

One day when I was working at the Capitol building in Springfield, Illinois,  I walked uptown to the square for lunch.  I saw my Daddy talking to a group of guys on a corner.  This was not unusual, he walked uptown every day after he ate the sandwich he had brought from home.  He joked that he and the guys he chatted with hung out on the corner to watch the pretty gals.  But he never looked at anyone besides my mother.  Just his dry sense of humor.

This particular day, I walked up and grabbed his arm to tease him a bit.  The clan dispersed as it was time to head back to work.  He asked if I'd like to join him and walk part of the way back together.  We walked and talked about my job, my first "real" job out of college.  As we approached the corner where we would part and go different directions, an older homeless woman approached, though quite tentative.  In a very quick, almost indiscernible motion, she asked for spare change, he pulled a $5 bill out of his pocket that had been at the ready, and put it in her palm.   She quietly thanked him and moved on along the sidewalk.

A few more steps.  I commented that giving her money, $5 at that, might not be wise...she might waste it on alcohol.  I asked why he had done it.  He replied that you had to trust that people would be guided to the right path and he trusted she would.  Her name was Sally he told me.  I had no words.

He was my shining light.  I hope I am as bright for others as he was for me.

He was deeply spiritual though I would not label him religious.  Didn't like going to church but loved the old hymns and could recite the 23rd Psalm by heart.

He was deeply patriotic.  Proud to be a veteran and loved his country.

He was dry and stoic.  I saw him cry just a couple of times in my life.  When our dogs died suddenly. When my cousin Penny was buried on her 40th birthday and her mother walked some of the flowers over to the grave of my grandmother (her sister) and returned to hug my dad.  His heart broke.  He was an only child and lost his parents 9 weeks apart while they were still in their 50s.

I will never forget seeing him in his tux getting it fitted for my wedding.  I had seen him in his suit dressed for work every day, seen him in jeans.  But when he walked out of the dressing room in his tux, I was speechless.  He was SO handsome!  I saw my Daddy as I had never seen him.

His humor was legendary.  When I got engaged, he said on the phone to my husband "Son, are you SURE you know what you're doing?  Have you REALLY thought this through?"

But he choked up walking me down the aisle.

On our first anniversary, he called my husband.  "First anniversary, right?"  Yes :)  "Warranty's up, can't bring her back now!"  And hung up laughing.

He ate Rice Krispies every day I knew him for breakfast.  And the day he sneezed and blew them all over my mother who sat there speechless is legendary.  As he grew older and Alzheimer's started to take over parts of him, his love was for Rice Krispies with chocolate milk instead of the traditional white.  What the hell, go for it Daddy :)

When we adopted Chico, we knew he had been born in December but not which date.  We gave him Daddy's birthday so we would remember.  Chico would have been 13 today and I know Daddy's got him in his lap loving him on their day.

He never yelled, never hit us.  He told me one time I had to make my own decisions and if they turned out to be not so good ones, he'd be there to pull me out of the hole I'd fallen in.

He was a man of very few words but huge heart.  I never once doubted his love for me.  I knew I could always count on him.

Daddy, I will write more next week about the amazing person your earthly being was.  But for now, Happy 85th birthday and 13th to Chico.  The beer must be flowing in Heaven...and none of that light crap for you, only the best :)  Your favorite ...

Old Milwaukee