Month of Mary! Kick-off Weekend, Part I

I snuck out early on Saturday morning to plot the day. I charged up on a cup of coffee and waited for a reasonable time to go bother the Spruce about putting up some of the decorations. While waiting I did some inter webs coordination and began recruiting people for last minute tasks I hadn’t considered all the way through; planning a surprise party with an entire town is a surprising amount of work! 

While I was at the Spruce, plating cupcakes, putting up streamers and leaving instructions for Cindy later on, I got a text from Mary. A death in the family that had been encroaching had come to pass. I returned with some coffee and we spent the next couple of hours in simple, quiet conversation. Around noon, I had my own memorial to attend for a dearly loved community member that passed a few months ago. It was shaping up to be a heavily-charged day, emotionally; the celebration of life and somberness of death starkly showing their continual coexistence all in one day. 

The memorial I attended was for Liz Heoker. I’d met Liz last year while working at the community garden in Randle. I was immediately drawn to her authenticity and communion with the natural life around her. The second (and maybe even third time) we met was a coincidental run-in at the Olympia Food Co-op. In my short time knowing her, I’d gotten a strong sense that she would be someone I would love to know but time never afforded me that opportunity before she became sick.

Her husband Steve opened with a ceremonial acknowledgement to the four directions, and within his first words, my eyes were already welling up. I was deeply moved by his groundedness and his praise of her life above all else. He shared three stark memories of her that had come up for him recently, each painting the image of a woman who reminded me far too much of myself and I cried even more for this woman I could’ve learned from, to embody perhaps even more of my authentic self. A slide show gave me a glimpse into the true vitality of her life and I was met with an overwhelming sense of grace, but also of fear for the mystery that took someone like this from so many people so unexpectedly. It was a surreal experience, to be so moved by the essence of someone I had not even been able to spend much time with. 

After the service, I headed back to prepare for the evening. Mary had gone on a walk to take the time that she needed for herself and we agreed to meet back up around 6pm and go down to the Spruce to “play some pool before I needed to host Karaoke.” I’d been hesitant with the day unfolding how it had but it became clear to me that the love she would soon be greeted with would be the right thing for this time. 

As we got out of the car, I got my video ready on my phone, and headed in behind her. I missed the initial hurrah because the camera had been turned on myself but the effects of the surprise continued on far after the welcoming cheer. Everything happened so fast that even I had trouble taking it all in. The town had gathered around the front bar and filled in the entire space so that when Mary walked in, it was just one huge bar-full of people there for her. As she walked through, she was met with hug after hug. I didn’t know about her yet, but I was shaking and I’d already known everything. Of course, she had been shaking also. As greetings winded down, people started to bombard her with drink tickets until eventually, it was made clear that she needed food. I stepped outside to calm down while she ate and I couldn’t stop thanking people enough for bringing it all together. Not only were many of her dear local friends there, but Tony had driven up from Portland and our new friends Leo and Lewis had made it down as well. 

Thats a heck-a-lottta cupcakes!

One can’t really imagine what it feels like to experience the love of a whole community in one room until it happens. Throughout the night, people were coming up and congratulating me for pulling it off but all I had to say was how thankful I was to the town. Where else but Packwood could something like this happen? 

Initially, the plan for Mary’s actual birthday on Sunday was to gallavant through the streets of Seattle but after the emotional roller-coaster of the last few days, priorities shifted. First, it was decided that Mary would be flying back East to be with family for the next few days which meant that I needed to get her to the airport on Tuesday. With packing and the late night before, we were off to a late start and didn’t hit the road until about 1pm. Half way down 12, I turned to Mary with an idea: what if we talked to Jordan to see about visiting her in Olympia instead of plowing through to Seattle? She was completely down with the idea and Jordan was around for the evening so we headed to her place instead, where we caught up while the three of us lay incapacitated on her couch, hiding from the 90 degree weather. Eventually we forced ourselves out to a park for a stroll and then went for dinner at Fish Tale Brewery, finishing the evening with a game of Taboo, perhaps my absolute favorite game as of right now. 

Monday became Seattle day, since I had to be there for an appointment anyway and there was no point to go home just to turn around. My appointment ended up being an hour’s waste of time in a waiting room arguing with unhelpful receptionists about my insurance coverage. I eventually canceled the appointment and we went for coffee to plan our day and get my mind off the frustration (still unsolved.) We decided to play tourist and went to the waterfront to ride the Ferris Wheel. Not bad as far as tourist experiences go. We even indulged and bought our cheesy green screen photo because the silly face shot was so epic. With some midday drinks we passed time in the glammy bar by the ride, playing rummy while phones charged. Our next stop was to be the Library and perhaps exploration of the marketplace if there was time. On our way up the hill, we were approached by a young man with a raspy voice trying to find some food. Mary promised him some food if he came with us because I was in the hurry to find a bathroom and she didn’t just want to give him money. The man’s name was Kevin and he was 20 days in recovery, this time from Meth. We ended up walking and talking with him all the way up towards the library and he spoke a bit about his plans to go back to school and finish his degree in business. He had been going to AA meetings but disliked the flakiness of people he met there and was also fearing the three days he was going to have to face in jail. It sounded like he could have a hopeful future if he could stay clean and follow through with his jail time but I also knew he had a large liklihood of relapse with the lack of support he seemed to have. Before he left, I gave him my e—mail in case he decided to really keep putting forth the effort and needed supportive connections. 

I’d wanted to show Mary the library because, well, its the best building in Seattle and you don’t even have to read words to love it. We had lost a bit of time with our spontaneous encounter and breezed through to the niftiest floors, but she agreed it was worth while. Back at the car, we headed over to pick up Chad, get sushi and end our evening at the Cider House. What we’d initially agreed to be an early evening ended up late once again of course, because we were having far too much fun playing Taboo and passing out the remainders of party cupcakes to pedestrians and cider patrons. I think Chad was amused, if not a bit overwhelmed at first, by our ridiculous antics that had developed as a symptom of many consecutive days side by side but he was very warmly invited into our clan of crazy and ultimately survived intact : ) 

Over the last three days, I have been going to bed as early as possible in preparation for Mary’s return today! Let the month of Mary re-commence! 

Month of Mary! Kick-off Weekend, Part I

Home is about the people you are with. The familiarity of a thing or a location is always attached to the connection with people. In the experience of AmeriCorps, part of my sense of home changes with the change among the team or the kids I’m working with. This yea, I’ve been so grateful of the opportunity to develop my connection with my Packwoodian family and it has definitely provided the foundation of that home sense for me. But a vital part of that feeling was missing and this month, “home” gets to be experienced completely again. 

Because Mary is back in Packwood for an entire month! 

To prove my love of this lady, I even agreed to the most obnoxious flight arrival time possible! Just kidding, it wasn’t really that bad and certainly never a problem. I may have rethought the decision to go for cider with Chad beforehand and found myself curled into the chairs at baggage claim, trying to muster up the energy to keep my eyes open, let alone check the flight progress. It was 1:15am and her flight was supposed to be in at 12:40. Just as I peeled myself from the chair, I saw the familiar blue jacket gliding down the escalator and giant smiles formed on our faces. 

In my many trips to the airport these past few months, I’ve come to notice that the times that people run towards each other and hug with reckless abandon happen few and far between. I don’t get it; I do it every time. Anyway, we got through our massive hug fest and launched right into sleep-deprived rambling, which lasted us the whole drive home and dissolved the sleepiness that had been encroaching. Still, as we pulled into Packwood and realized the sun was starting to peek behind the mountains, we were instantly ready to curl into bed. 

From 5-9am, we had a nice nap. And then naturally, we decided to hike Packwood Lake. 

It took some time to get to the trailhead because simple stops for coffee and bug spray turned into a marathon of greetings from everyone in town. It was exciting to see everyone’s joy at having her back in town but beneath it all, I was also anxious to hurry things along a bit; the town had a surprise up their sleeves and I was diligently keeping tabs on every interaction, hoping that no one would let the secret slip out…

…fortunately, we made it through, secrecy unscathed. The weather had turned around just in time for Mary’s arrival and our hike kicked off the first of a full week of Sunny 80’s weather. Immediately after reaching the lake, we bunkered down on a flat rock and lay there for a good hour. I even dozed off. 

After 4 hours of sleep and a hike, we figured we might as well go all-out and rally with a bonfire. Back in town, we stopped at the store for accoutrements and once again, ended up bombarded with hellos. Again, I tried to play it cool while JC almost gave away the surprise and Miss wound up in the check-out line just ahead of us, purchasing the cocoa she would be using to make Mary’s cheesecake. Later we found out what that we were both thinking ‘don’t you dare ask what she’s baking, Mary!’ 

Back at the house, we threw together some dinner and tried to pump ourselves up for the evening plans we’d gotten ourselves into. Three people we’d never met were coming over to join the bonfire and we were already a slaphappy mess, unable to form proper sentences or speak without laughing at nonsense; oy vey. 

Fortunately we found a second wind within a few drinks and a blazing fire and began to talk relatively sensical-ly (or as much so as usual). Our new fire friends were delightful and with no knowledge of the big day ahead, there would be no reason for Mary to be eager for bed. Once again, we were up late into the night.

Seattle....Sounders!

I say I'm not a sports fan, but there are certain scenarios in which you can catch me succumbing to the contagious enthusiasm for a well-played game. Mainly, live-stadium viewings of professional baseball or soccer (or actually, quite of few televised Olympic events).

If I had kept up with some level of recreational involvement from my childhood, it would have been in soccer. I was never pro-bound or anything, but I remember liking the way it made me feel and it was a sport that I could get lost in once I got going. Whenever I watch a soccer match, I am re-inspired to find a physical fitness that would allow me to get involved with some sort of adult hobby-team. Plus, it is one of the only sports that I can watch and follow without having to ask someone a zillion questions about the rules of play. 

So, I was pretty excited when we decided to take the kids on a Sounder's field trip this year. My car consisted of Brendon and Jayden, and snacks galore. We were on the road bright and early but the boys were awake enough to jam out to music and get a lengthy game of "I-SPY" going. I didn't realize that we'd scheduled our departure to get us into town early so we had time to go grab some pizza and they ate in the cafe at the grocery store while I got some more urgent groceries taken care of.  Even so, we still made it to the stadium early, which was a delight to them since they'd never been inside one and since people hadn't crowded into their seats, we got to wander the rows closer to the field. 

Our seats were at the very top floor and we headed up there shortly before the rest of the kids met up with us. I didn't hear any complaints about the view, though. Personally, I almost think the bird's eye view is better in terms of being able to follow the play by play. It does make for a kind of interesting perception of speed, distance and direction though. 

Our ELC Crew

Even with a preference towards soccer, I still don't know diddly about state teams, so I was on a learning curve for learning the cheers and best practice in the Sounder Fan Family. And I've gotta say, they have the coolest call I've ever heard at a sport's game. For those who don't know, Sounder's fans rev up at the beginning of a game by beginning series of steady claps in long intervals, filled with an echo that recreates an uncanny resemblance to that of a whale call. Then gradually, the space between the claps gets shorter until the stadium has erupted in a full-on cheer. That was the first time I made the connection to the Sounders and what their mascot might possibly be.

We couldn't have asked for a better game, in terms of the entertainment factor. The first half kept us on our toes until the New York Red Bulls scored in the little bit. It was like the slump moment in the movie. One of the Morton kiddos that was sitting with Jeremy became increasingly pessimistic and criticizing of the team and Jeremy used each comment as a graceful opportunity for insightful remarks about empathizing and teamwork. Then, maybe about half way into the second half, our team made their first goal. You could feel this huge shift in energy as the fan's optimism was restored.  The cheering that led up to the goal almost seemed to put everything into slow motion; it was a cheer that said "You're gonna make it! You've gotta make it!" 

Our guy did a pretty snazzy back flip, also. 

Then, with perhaps only three minutes left in the play, we got our second goal in. The tension, the slump, the climax and the turnaround, making for one great show. 

Brendan, Jaydin and I snuck out pretty quickly so that Brendon could go buy a shirt before the crowds hit. Before we left town, I drove them to a Baskin Robins since I'd promised them ice cream when I thought I'd have to go to the store after the game. Adding onto a pretty substantial sugar high of pop tarts, juice boxes, candy and coca cola, the car ride home consisted of wild chants out the windows, weird hand-slapping games, ice cream spoon catapults, and wildly out-of-tune singing scenarios before an abrupt crash during the last half hour of the ride. 

The next day at Open Gym, we broke out our soccer ball and had a game going for the majority of the night. I even jumped in there for a good portion of it and didn't do half bad. Who knows, maybe a team is in my future yet = P 

Painting with intangibles

I imagine the way time moves as light paintings in my minds eye. More often than not, I am measuring the aesthetic sensations of time rather than the lines on a clock. I frequently mis-estimate to-do lists and the amount of space in my month that I actually have for making various plans because I am functioning on a emotional relationship with time. 

As the last week of May approached, Memorial day painted lines of light in streaking, neon patterns, like a hyperactive heart throb. Even amongst an undertone of decreasing energy levels that come with working 50 hours in three days, I moved with spark and spunk, fueled by this time-painting. There were small currents of this that we used to survive the frantic beehive of Memorial Day weekend. I see “we” because, it is during the Flea Market more than ever, that a tight-knit camaraderie is felt amongst all people Packwoodian. Whether you are like me, and use the energetic social rush as fuel to get through endless work days or you prefer to hibernate up in the woods for as much of the weekend as possible, a deep pride for this town is felt in the air. 

This year, I continued my commitment to walking into town for work each day in order to avoid the ridiculous traffic. This time, the walk was about twice as long since I’ve been dog-sitting up in High Valley; a good 1-hour walk, one-way. Once downtown, I’d play early-bird substitute for Dean at the Library vendor spaces before rushing across the street for a non-stop day of coffee-making. The evenings were like a perpetual after-party; live band, karaoke, a social drink to end the day just because we could. As tired as we were, the tempo was infectious. 

And just as abruptly, it ceases. 

The painting fragments and bits of charged light become lodged in a frame that feels to small, at least as far as my experience is concerned. The coffee shop is quiet. We have moments to breathe. We are all hobbling about in a sleepy delirium.

And then Thursday came. 

Death has a way of making the world around you eerily beautiful. Particles of time-paintings dissolve. Suddenly there is no other painting except what is; the birds’ chirp, the rumble of the tires down the road, the slam of a door, the plea of a breeze reminding you to be a part of this world that you’ve been living in only half of; the rest has been in those paintings in your mind. 

But now is just now. 

I don’t feel this medium lends itself to a play by play account of this particular Thursday. The life lost was not of someone I was dearly close to, but of someone that carried a charm, generosity and vigor for life that touched everyone around him. And in that respect, the unfolding of how we came to know of his passing was especially jarring; a life story so seemingly graceful and honored deserved a death story of equal grace and honor. 

But death is not a metered art form. For six days, we’d not known. For three of those, I’d walked past that house. In the wake of all of that energy, one light had bled into the abyss of is. 

Patrice was the first to the house and Korreanne and I joined shortly after, before the fire department showed up. They told us we’d probably want to leave when they opened the house but we didn’t really need to be told. We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting together in the sun, myself speaking seldom and soft-spoken. Silence felt like the only gift I had to give. 

How does one grieve? Am I feeding a constructed social reaction to this death? Are these tears a deeper homage? Is there really a time frame for grief like this? Does time disappear? It was almost harder not to have known him better and yet to have still been so close to his passing. I wanted to know what he would have wanted. I wanted to know if he would have demanded that we laugh and celebrate his life? If he would have been moved by the swelling waterworks I was met with when I arrived at the house? 

The lessons of not-knowning never end. He has passed to somewhere he never knew he needed to be. We have been left with yet another mystery of why. 

I slowly began to paint with time again, coming back into that common reality that is so ironically removed from the poignancy of “now”. The experience jarred me away from that frantic reserve from Memorial Day and I now have  been working on a piece constructed of ripples. 

This painting feels busy and expansive but I can’t trace where anything leads. I am dropping a lot of stones and experiences rings of different energy levels and effects before it dissipates. Some of those bigger rings are still growing without direction. I have my focus set in so many different areas when really, they are all a distraction from these acute points of origin. 

But since I don’t count minutes, I have all the time in the world to address that, right?