Moments in Time

I just watched the memorial service for an exceptional man. 

Had I known of his passing, I would have been there in person because he was an absolute gift of a human.

I met Phil Collum soon after I started my time at SCPD. Shenanigans, late nights, lots of dancing, solid conversations and friendship. He was genuine and sincere and I was so grateful for his presence in the constantly changing landscape of my life. 

I will never forget the time I was out of town (before cell phones!) and he stopped by and was freaked out by the moving boxes in the dining area of my apartment. I came back home and explained I was fine and just a super lazy unpacker. He was equally relieved and annoyed. 

Soon after, he moved back home to the San Diego area. I’m so sorry we lost touch. I thought of him often over the years.

I now know he went on to change the landscape of law enforcement in Chula Vista and beyond with his smile, love of all people, dedication to service, and I have to believe, dance moves.

There is an orphanage in Mexico that would not be the same without him. He visited every month, in the same selfless way he approached everything else in his life. If you are inclined, check out https://www.corazondevida.org/.

Not many people on this planet are consumed with the desire to make things better. I am so honored to have known a small piece of Phil and am challenged to follow his moves. 

Even right up until the end, he was earning awards and changing lives. And his community LOVED him.

Well, my dancing partner, it seems there are just some people that are too perfect to be earthside for long. 

Phillip, I will miss you being here.

If you have the time, his memorial service can be viewed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ont6yE62GFA

It is worth the watch. 

Oh, Matty

 Now that your chosen family has all publicly shared remembrances in your honor, I thought I’d post my own. 

I hope you don’t mind me using your nickname. You mentioned in your memoir that your friends all call you Matty and as you ‘lived’ in my house for ten years, in a weird way I feel qualified to use it.

Without exception, every Thursday night, I raced home to hang out with you. And all our other friends. I nearly didn’t sign up for a grad school class because it was only offered Thursday nights…I created a pros and cons list and everything. 

School won, by the way, but only barely. Primarily because I found out you could program a VCR.

I quickly realized this was not ideal because even if you figured out how to set it correctly, it invariably missed the opener or cut off the ending scene as credits rolled. There may have been yelling involved. 

You’ll be happy to know I eventually just set the dang thing to record EVERYTHING on Thursday night because ER came on at 10 and I wasn’t missing that either.

I’ve followed you all these years, the great stuff, the not-so-good bits, all of it. You were always our favorite friend yet we had no idea the darkness and depth of your battles. It seems so unfair you left when you did - more peaceful, rebuilding yourself, and dedicated to giving back in immeasurable ways.

Maybe when you met God in your kitchen, he truly guided the rest of your way on earth. Maybe you leaving us now could actually be his way of acknowledging your earthly struggle, alleviating your pain, and honoring your  hard-won personal growth.

I don’t know how all that works. I just know I’m so sad.

The accolades are endless, such incredible memories from all the wonderful people who knew you in person. Your generosity, unparalleled wit, kindness, impeccable timing, gift of encouragement. Your sense of humor and way with words remain unmatched. 

You should also know there are literally millions of us who have loved you from afar for decades. 

Even if you never did “Friends” and were celebrated globally, you’ve left behind a giant space in humankind. One that we’re not sure how to fill. And every last one of us is heartbroken. I only wish you could have felt that while still here. I hope you can now.

To honor your request of remembrance, we’ll focus on the direct impact you’ve had on addiction awareness, treatment, and recovery. Along with the countless people you’ve helped in your time here. We’ll take that forward in your name, Mattman.

You did it. In only 54 years. You lived well, you loved well, and you were a seeker. 

You also helped me understand my daddy better. Because of your brutal bravery in sharing your struggles, it offered me a different way to see him. And a softer, more empathetic place to view his own passing. I am forever grateful for that too.

I hope you’ll allow me to say this one tiny thing - for me - in memory of all our years ‘together’… 

Could you BE any more missed?

Sometimes I Get Angry

 My daddy's birthday was yesterday.

I watch friends congratulate their dads on significant birthdays.

I see them post photos of weddings and christenings. And whatever the heck else ever they are celebrating. 

I try to be cool. And happy for them.

There are beautiful birth stories with Grandads meeting the newborn.

Weddings.

Graduations.

Random Tuesdays where everyone meets up for pizza. Or tacos.

I do enjoy witnessing these friends and extended family gatherings. Knowing there are people who carved through the yuck to get to the good.

Also — It pisses me off.

My family never really got there. To the other side. We had it in moments…but never truly for real.

So what do I rage against? 

Addiction? That seems easy and not even a little bit satisfying. It’s like being angry at cancer. 

Which also is valid. But I digress.

Be angry at my dad? That is there too, but hurts my heart and the essence of what I know to be me so I can't hold that.

So what?  Where do I direct the searing loss of those moments?

Maybe it’s reaching out with open arms to what I have here now.

Figuring out how to incorporate the love I have known and live with here now into the memories of ‘what could have been.’

Still waiting on that complete answer.

I remember my dad talking about how he felt when his uncles and aunts got older. The urgency to connect or re-connect. How it felt when they transitioned/changed addresses/left this earth. I wish I’d have paid closer attention to that navigation process.

John Blakeley made that big move several days ago. Growing up as his niece, he seemed larger than life so this one makes me wish I had a map to follow because I just feel lost.

My Uncle John gave the best bear hugs. NO, HE DID. I will stand firm on this hill. He’d say, “Ready?” And you knew to suck in some air and hold it because your ribs were about to meet your spine. He’d wrap his arms around you and hug you as tight as you’ve ever been hugged. And you’d giggle and squirm and feel so loved.

His son, my cousin Aaron, does this too. At Rick Baldwin’s memorial service this last spring, I saw AJ and went over to give him a hug. He said, “Ready?” 

Oh yes.

Uncle John had a wicked sense of humor. (He’d not be pleased I described it that way!) If you found yourself in a car with him you’d better protect your knees because at the most unexpected moment, he’d reach over and clamp his hand on the ‘funny bone’ of your knee. 

I do not know of another way to describe it…but it was both hilarious and crazy-making at the same moment. 

He will forever hold the title of Master of Efficiency in my book. From the way he walked, to washing his car at the crack of dawn, to a 20 minute (all encompassing) sermon, to vocally speeding up a hymn he felt was lagging - he did not drag things out just to belabor a point. He was way beyond his time in the ‘this meeting should have been an email’ group.

As much as I say my dad could have been a cowboy, I can equally assert Uncle John could have been a pioneer. Grit, determination, stubbornness, focus on a bigger picture - he had all that. 

He is resting now. A well-deserved, beautiful, complete rest. And to him, I love you the most, no matter what you say.

In Memoriam

 

(The above photo is from our 1995 SCPD Christmas Party. Lola reposted it a couple days ago before she left us. She's the tiny, non-smiling blonde in the back row. Yes, I was wearing heels.)

If you are fortunate, you encounter giants in this life. They are not always large in stature, some are small and feisty and take zero grief from anyone.

If you are really lucky, you will find a personal giant. That giant will come equipped with a fire and determination to drag you into the best iteration of yourself you can be. Usually despite your best efforts otherwise. 

Giants accept no excuses because they’ve lived it. Done it. Handled it all. They only know to create a way forward when the rest of us are still scattered. Their impact is felt in the moment and far, far beyond.

I don’t know that I can ever encapsulate this particular giant of mine with mere words but I need to try…

When I left SCPD dispatch - in the midst of our local police department joining with the county and becoming Netcom -  I wrote something for Lola and had it framed to commemorate the significance of my time with her. When I gave her what I’d written, she teared up. Then was immediately annoyed because she never made me cry in training. (That she knew of.)

She challenged my naive 20-something self to be so much more than a job. In enumerable ways, she taught me about life. To show up and do your best. That excuses are for the unprepared. How to be generous with people but give no quarter. (She would totally use other words there.) And above all else - do the right thing. If only because it is the right thing.

She demanded these things in no uncertain terms.

I loved working for her. Even when I got in trouble for not knowing where an overpass was in a verbal pop quiz. Thank you Mike Pruger for graciously accepting the spur-of-the-moment patrol ride along. Driving me to said overpass and waiting while I walked across it as instructed. Despite the fact that when you went in service you announced over the radio there was a “banished dispatcher” with you.

PS I’m also pretty sure that was the night I saved your sunglasses as they slid across the dash towards my open window during a pursuit. You’re welcome.

Personal calls were not allowed in dispatch because all lines were recorded and potentially could be material in a trial. Lola was the one who had to weed through the audio, capturing the pertinent sections as required. Sometimes though, ahem, personal calls were made and we took great delight in the midst of said calls, shouting “Hi Lola!” just so she wouldn’t be bored while listening. 

She was especially understanding when she found me dancing and lip syncing on a graveyard shift to a boom box we had in the corner of dispatch. To my credit I finished the song despite our super awkward eye contact. To her credit she merely shook her head and went back to her office.

There are people who come into your life and alter it forever. Usually you don’t recognize it in the moment with the impact only becoming clear later on. But oh, sometimes you know it right then and you relish every margarita and tortilla chip, dance, and story you are privileged to share together. 

Lola Crain, there will never be another human being like you.

She Still Looks For Me

 A millisecond is less than an eye blink. Science-y people can address this in greater detail and in ways I cannot fathom. My sociology/criminology degree only goes so far. 

What I do know is this: in the instant registering victory or failure, my daughter looks for me. In a moment demanding response, my girl checks to see I am there. 

It’s quicker than the catch of a pop-up. Or its drop. Faster than a solid hit. Or the last swing of a strike out. More rapid than a stolen base. Or bunt. Or getting called out.

It is an infinitesimal shift disguised as a glance. To find me. To make sure I see her. And I am there. I see her. Every time.

I can write a bunch more words about all this - lord knows I have that capacity and inclination. But somehow this particular exchange between us seems sacred and I will honor it.

Very soon she’ll realize she can validate her own self and doesn’t need my presence nor approval. It’s going to absolutely crush and delight me in equal parts.

That time is nearer than I’d like but that’s how this all works. I adore the honor of watching her evolve and grow. Even as she moves beyond me…because, oh, that’s the good stuff right there.

It all feels so fast. And I’m nowhere near ready. But it’s not about me at all. 

For now, for today’s game, she still looked for me. That is enough. 

Words and Moments

My dad and I loved what he’d call ‘visiting’ with each other. I’ll be real, we both just enjoyed talking and we could certainly each hold our own. Whether at the kitchen table, a restaurant, or especially at a book store with a coffee after some book purchases!

Some talks were anecdotal and humorous. Dad: “Did I ever tell you about…?” Family stories passed down and I was never quite sure what was actual truth and what was embellished in the interest of a good story. I enjoyed them all the same. Still other conversations as adults were deep, meaningful, and sometimes unwieldy. 

In those challenging discussions, we didn’t always agree but it made the interaction more significant. When someone you love and respect presents an opposing viewpoint, you probably should take a pause. At the very least, quit planning the next thing you intend to say and simply be open. Breathe.

I treasured the times dad asked for my opinion because he really wanted to know my thoughts. We’d share quotes and poems from our favorite authors. One was Frederick Buechner. Look him up for his vast CV. Most importantly, Buechner wasn’t afraid to dig deep and question. That immediately made him one of my ‘top ten.’

I sent this quote to dad a few years ago and just re-read it before a wonderfully healing yoga practice:

Dad’s response? “Buechner does it again! I love you the most, Jules.”

Note to self today? Timing is everything. Thanks daddy, I hear you loud and clear.

Grandma Opal and Her Pin Curls

Every night Grandma Opal ‘set’ her hair. With a bit of water, she’d wind some strands of hair into a tight circle and secure it with criss-crossed bobby pins. She did this around the edges of her entire head. 

The tedious ritual added numerous minutes to her nighttime regime, but she still did it faithfully. In the morning she’d take the pins out and coax out the curls. And then she’s back-comb the heck out of the top of her head.

(Sorry, Grandma, I said heck.)

She only washed her hair a couple times a week. When she did, she’d go into the laundry room, turn on the dryer, kneel on a folded towel and stick her head in the running dryer. This was WAY before safety precautions.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw her do that. 

The discipline with her hair was mirrored in the rest her life. Her kitchen, for one, she’s save two green beans to put in her infamous Friday Night Casserole. Leftovers from the entire week, usually covered in cheese and baked. Somehow it was always oddly delicious.

The way she kept her house. Everything had it’s spot and lord help you if you moved it. She wouldn’t say anything but you best believe that knick-knack would be in its rightful spot within 5 minutes. I’m thinking now she probably dusted every dang day for it to be that clean…all the time.

(Sorry, Grandma, I said dang.)

But the one thing I’ll never forget is her strength. When my Grandad died so suddenly, although she had to be reeling, she was still serving. At home, at the viewing, at the service, and the reception. Checking in on her kids and grandkids, loving us through it all.

I had driven over from the coast for the days-long celebration of Grandad’s life. We congregated in the home that had given us all so much love. Family was abundant and helped buffer the harsh shock of loss. We sang and cried and laughed and then cried some more.

I’d planned on staying just two houses down with my parents that night, but I saw Grandma sit down (finally) and went over to her. I took her hand and whispered, “Do you want me to stay here tonight?” She smiled at me and said, “Tonight I want to be with my husband.”

I can only imagine what that night was like for her. 

That comment has stuck with me since then and I think about her often when I face something challenging. A thing that blasts in out of nowhere and makes you question it all. I know without a doubt I get my stubbornness from her. (Because she told me so!) I’m hoping to carry on the strength part too.  

My Daddy

 I’d get these phone calls from my dad - which I’ve give anything to receive today - and he would leave this message if I couldn’t answer. There was this thread of joy in his voice and it was everything.

“Hey Juj, it’s Dad calling. It’s 8am my time and I was wondering what you are up to today. I hope you are doing something fun. I love you the most.”

His particular phrasing and the lilt in his tone immediately brought back all that was good in my childhood. He managed to infuse delight in every word.

In this period of time, Dad was on the West Coast and I was living on the East Coast, thus his need to distinguish time zones. As if our ridiculously expensive smart phones wouldn’t register the difference.

My favorite thing about these messages is his use of a nickname that HIS dad had initially given me. And that he always announced he was the person calling and when he was calling. Again smart phones.

I just really miss him.

We All Need Some Fresh Air

Somewhere, in the midst of all this crazy time at home - my nephew texts me. He asks what I’m doing for the next couple days. I respond, “Being awesome. But other than that not much.”

He tells me he wants to come visit & I was immediately all in, because Drew brings the party and joy wherever he goes. And boy do we need that right now. 

His 6 foot 6 inch self showed up here yesterday around dinner time. We set off on a mini tour of our little town & in search of some quality grub. We found that in giant cheeseburgers and fries. And awesome family stories.

After dinner we came back to our place & rewatched ‘Godzilla’ while Drew & Ella carried on a legit convo of Marvel vs. DC characters. I am pretty much always astounded at my 12 year old’s grasp on cinema, what she likes, and what she ‘stans.’ I was merely a witness to the back and forth dialogue and loved every minute.

These unexpected moments are the ones that re-fill my reserves. 20 year old nephews carving out time for family. Making quality cousin time and finding ways to connect. It was so fun to watch. Reminded me of MY cousins that I love so much!

All this just really points to the testament of how my brother parented his 3 kids & 2 bonus kids. He was honest, open, and at times strict. But it was all done with so much love. He is my parenting hero!

Before Drew arrived, my brother sent a text saying, “Have fun with my son!” It just made me grateful all over again for my family. 

This One

She was born in my heart. No doubt about that. I’ve made a purposeful decision to parent without judgement, to welcome and gently direct this beautiful person. It is the best thing I’ve ever done. 

I’ve given her the power call me out if I overstep into her space & squash her feelings. Because I do. Often. We clash about dumb stuff - how ‘I think’ her room should be, or how she should handle her business with friends. And school...ugh. Thanks Covid-19.

We are two separate people but we truly respect each other. We have a dialogue that works for us. We use words as much as we can. And when they fail, we say, “I need space.” 

She is so pure & resolute with her emotions. I know people say parenting teens is so hard. And it is, for sure. But, oh, it can be SO good!

Yesterday, we sat on the couch and read together for over an hour. We shared parts of what we liked about our books & ways we could make real life better. She has brilliant ideas, I’m encouraged for our future. 

Then she said: “I like hanging out with you because you’re interesting.”

And that’s possibly the biggest mic drop ever.

Whatever happens next? Well, that’s just extra icing on the cake. Or, the guacamole for your nachos. 

Updating The Old CV

Nowhere is it listed that I am a barber or teacher or even stay-at-home parent. Yet I’ve been assigned all these jobs in the last couple months. And the jobs will continue for the foreseeable future. 

I did not chose any of these new professions. I wish I could tell you I’ve handled it with grace but I have not. There have been many grumbles and sighs and so many eye rolls I may need a chiropractor.

I have been furloughed indefinitely and mandated by state and county to ‘stay at home.’ I am unable to function as I normally would. Our state and federal government has denied me unemployment because, “They didn’t like the photo of my ID I sent in.” (I really wish I was kidding on this one.) ((I immediately appealed.))

I cannot contribute financially to our budget and therefore our goals have changed from 'save' to 'survive.' This has hurt me far more than having to cut my husband’s hair or sit at the kitchen table managing my daughter’s schoolwork. Having our financial course re-routed makes the staying at home even more frustrating.

I have no idea how this will all play out or when things here in So Cal will open. Until then, I’ll be here on the patio, clippers in hand, or at the kitchen table, holding it together with equal amounts stubbornness and love.

Stay well, friends!

Real Life Love Story

Real life is sticky. Messy. But so beautiful.

I fell in love with my husband when I was 22 but it just wasn’t a ‘happily ever after’ scenario. Life rarely follows storybook plot lines. Regardless of the emotions we shared - choices, situations, and people pulled us apart.

But all the good in this life brought us back together. Even with acknowledging that obvious initial connection, how we came to be ‘us’ in our 40s was nothing short of a miracle. 

And then to find Ella shortly after marrying and bring her home with us a few months later, well, that really was the sprinkles on top of the frosting of the best cupcake anyone’s ever had.

What an amazing story we have lived…ask us in person if you have the time. In any instance, I think the whole thing is pretty cool. 13 years in and he's still #1 in my book.

A lot of life happened between our first meeting and our reconnection but the beauty of having the opportunity to make a thoughtful choice to be together in our 40s is not lost on us.

The real takeaway here is that true love wins. All the time. Every time.  

Some Thoughts Mid Lock-down

I don’t want to be super prickly about this…but there are things that need to be addressed. We are in week Lord-knows-what of quarantine and I cannot get some images out of my head.

When things got crazy (publicly) mid March - nobody monitored anything at grocery stores. Nobody knew we had to, so it was a free-for-all with a ‘first come, first serve mentality’ in our supermarkets. 

It still disgusts me that most people’s immediate reaction was to be selfish.

In my routine market trip on March 17th, I saw people with carts FULL of food…some even had two carts. Boxes and boxes of non-perishable food. Dozens of canned goods. Mountains of paper products. I really wish I was kidding.

The bare shelves were eerie. Toilet paper, paper towels, pasta, soup, beans, rice…pretty much anything that can be stored was gone. Talk about herd mentality!

My real wish is that all those people are eating pasta and canned soup every single day and letting nothing they purchased in fear go to waste. Rather than supporting small businesses in whatever way they could, people frantically overbought…in a spectacular fashion.

I’m hoping we are close to the end of quarantine in California…and those people who bought groceries like they were living The Hunger Games should continue to stay home and properly consume everything they purchased. 

The End.

Or maybe it’s the beginning of learning to live without fear and selfishness. I can only hope.