It’s the first day of the new year.  Early in the first day.  Katie wanted to go out and do her stuff this morning about 5.  As I went to bed early last night, long before midnight, I had no idea what had happened overnight.  I turned on the outside lights in order to take her out and gasped.  I think we have over 8 inches of snow and its still coming down.  Hard.  I told Katie she wasn’t going to like this and we ventured out.

At first she bounced around on the end of the leash like normal, but in a few steps she gave up, the snow was higher than her shoulders, up around her neck and face.  She fell into position behind me as I pushed a path out to the yard with my feet.  After doing her job she followed me back to the house, where she got excited and tried to run to jump on the porch.  She misjudged just where the porch was, and landed in snow up to her nose.  She was stuck.  I laughed for a bit before I picked her up and we went inside. 

So this first day of 2008 we are going to stay inside and watch it snow.  Luky for us nobody has anywhere to go.  I have started some spagetti sauce, we’ll hunker down with comfort food.  Katie is currently growling at the birdfeeder because it looks different with almost a foot of snow on it.  It’s going to be a long day for her!

We hope at least some of you are reading this in a warmer climate, and that those of you here in snow country are warm,  snug and safe in your homes.

Happy New Year!

Last night I didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning between the snoring husband and the upside down snoring dog.  It’s even worse when you can’t sleep and everyone else seems to be having no problem.  So I woke the dog up (revenge is sweet!) and we went out in the living room to look at the lit tree and contemplate.

So many things to think about, projects at work, a new semester, a campaign for legislation in the trucking industry.  Though I had to be at work early this morning and generally wouldn’t be happy to be up early, today I was actually eager to get started.   I have plans for the projects at work, and they are just little projects, no real pressure, I’m excited about a couple of my classes and have begun to read for them already, and I think this is the year to press Congress to make some progress to mandate instalation of onboard recording devices for big trucks.   I feel like it’s time to get going, no time for sleeping!  So I sat out in my dim living room and thought about all the things I need to do, and realized that most of them were things I WANT to do.  What a difference it makes to want to do things rather than dreading the laundry list of things that must be done.

I thought of the thousands of families with huge holes ripped through them who struggle with every holiday and anniversary.  Five thousand people a year lose their lives in truck crashes.  Since Dad died there are another 15,000 people dead, and probably almost as many families that are facing the reality of their loss every day.  I thought about all the causes and all the people fighting to get help for their particular issue and I felt sort of proud of all of us.  It’s easy to be quiet and still in our grief, but it’s impossible to stay that way.  If Dad had died peacefully in his bed of cancer I expect our family woud be lobbying Congress for stem cell research.  It’s just not in us to ignore such issues. 

So I am eager to get moving on this next year of change.  I’ll be graduating this spring, another change, and looking for work again in the real world.  Or as real as the library world gets anyway.  And I’ll continue to work for our cause and hope to make some change there as well.  I think it’s going to be a great year!

It’s Christmas morning and all through the house….a puppy is wanting to play.   We hope you all are having a wonderful holiday with your loved ones.  Katie sends puppy kisses to you all.

Three years ago today, just about this time, I got the news that you were gone.  I woke in the night last night thinking about you, wanting today not to arrive.  I watched the clock turn to midnight and let the tears roll and remembered too late you comforting us when we woke with nightmares years ago.  Don’t cry you’d say, you’ll get tears in your ears.  So with tears in my ears I remember you.

I remember racing into the house after church in my Sunday dress to flop on the living room floor next to you as you read us all the color comics.

I remember playing horse on your back until you dropped in exhaustion.

I remember you tossing us one by one into the waves of Lake Michigan and us shouting in glee for you to do it again.

I remember you showing me the way to walk to kindergarten, us taking off from home with a box of Nilla wafers on our grand adventure.

I remember you teaching me to ride a two wheeled bike that was so big my feet only touched the pedels when they were at the top of their rotation.

I remember you falling asleep on the sofa after work and before dinner.  When you began to snore we’d all giggle and say there was a moose loose in the house.

I remember you building a red canoe in the basement, and launching it on the lake.

I remember sledding down a big hill in a saucer with you.

I remember your patience as we all learned how to water ski, and when you taught us all to drive a stick shift car.

I remember the camping trips across America and getting out to read every last historical marker along the way.

I remember you repairing everything that ever broke.  Sometimes more than once.

I remember riding the bus to school and passing you as you rode your bike to work.

I remember climbing sand dunes and mountains, and our walk down into the Grand Canyon, how you always wanted to see what was around the next corner.

I remember canoeing the Huron River all day with you, and many trips down the Rifle River as well.

I remember you humming tunelessly as you walked me down the aisle on my wedding day.

I remember you water-skiing that last July, having fun with your kids out on the lake.

I remember holding you after Mom died, and you telling me to stop or I’d make you cry.

I remember you flying all the way back up here ten days after Mom died to attend my father-in-law’s funeral, because I’d been there for you and you wanted to be here for me.

I remember your visit here at Thanksgiving that year and how small and alone you looked as you drove away after the weekend.  I never saw you again.

I remember asking you what you wanted to do for Christmas that year and you saying you just wanted us to be together…like before.

I remember you. 

Missing you today Dad.  Loving you always.

Last summer I took an creative writing course.  One of the first assignments was to write a descriptive short piece about a candle.  Initially I thought I’d have to go out and buy a candle because I don’t have any around the house.  But then I remembered a candle our family received last spring during a conference we attended in Washington DC, titled From Sorrow to Strength where we worked on truck safety issues, and our own grief, along with other families who have been affected by tragic loss due to truck crashes.  As the anniversary of Dad’s death approaches I am reminded of the piece.  I share it with you now:

Letting Go

I am the candle you received at the Sorrow to Strength conference last spring.  I am a simple candle, tall and straight, no frills, clean white.  I have never been burned.  The sound of the match, its smell, the tiny bit of heat against your fingers makes you catch your breath.  Tears threaten your eyes.  I am so much more than a candle.  My flame holds memories of the man you lost to that tired semi driver almost three years ago.  You can see his face there.  No, not his face, just his essence.  His being is there in the flame.

I am the candle you received at the conference.  You put me away as if to put away the memories.  Seeing me causes you pain, but did you forget about the strength I represent?  As my wax melts let bits of your pain melt.  Let them fly away with the smoke of my flame.   I am a simple candle, tall and straight.  But I am strong, I can hold some of your pain.  I can let it go for you.  I can remind you of the father you lost who was also tall and straight and strong.  I can remind you that you are tall and straight and strong.

I am the candle you received.  My flame holds memories.  My flame holds hope.

******

May you all have hope this holiday season.

I have a cold, but I also have a job, so tonight found me at work with a hidden bottle of water to sip in an attempt to ward off much of the tickle at the back of my throat.  Turns out that I couldn’t stop it all, and ended up having a huge coughing attack about an hour into my shift.  I headed to the public women’s restroom, which was closer than my office, and spent a long time there coughing uncontrollable.  When I could finally get my breath I began splashing water on my face trying to get myself into shape to go back out to work.  The door opened and hesitantly a woman’s head poked around.  It was one of our regulars, someone who probably spends most of her days and maybe her nights on the streets of the city.  She wanted to know if I was OK, or should she go get help?  I said that I was fine, and she came in and told me when this happened to her she just needed to sip water slowly and take deep breaths.  She said she’d stay with me if I needed her and I smiled and said I’d be right out.

Tonight the patron was there to help the librarian.  Tables were turned and it didn’t surprise me at all that someone who most in society  overlook didn’t overlook someone else in need.  When she left for the evening I thanked her for checking on me, and she told me to have a nice night.  I said the same to her and hoped she does have a nice, safe night.

Another reason why library work is so rewarding.

Well, I turned in that final exam, felt a moment of exhilaration and promptly got sicker than a dog.  Except I don’t really know how sick a dog can get, so I was a mere approximation of a sick dog.  I made it through the King Christmas, with multiple families complete with tiny little kids at my house for dinner and was grateful for the approaching blizzard which sent them all home earlier than usual.  Sunday I never got out of bed except to take the dog out when she demanded.  Monday I worked from 6-9 p.m. but was barely functional.  Today I am hoping to get more done, though I won’t go far without my bottle of water and box of tissue.

Appears I am a typical student, waiting till break to let the stress of the semester manifest itself in a common cold.

I am finished with my last (and only) final of the semester!  I wrote both essays for my archives course yesterday while the dog was at the groomer.  It took me about 7 hours, and would have taken me at least 10 if Katie had been in residence.  I still have to email them to the professor, but I am waiting.  I don’t want him to think I didn’t take care with them because I turn them in early.  I will send them in tonight, they are due tomorrow at noon.

Interestingly enough as I was writing one essay I thought about an article I had read for a different class during my first semester.  I went into the online UM library catalog and found the article , but couldn’t get an electronic copy of it.  Frustrated I went back to my paper file from that course and the very first document at the front of the file was the article that I needed!  Archives save the day!

So the semester is over, time to get down to the business of Christmas.  I’m off to the grocery store next to pick up all the fresh ingredients of the dishes I will cook tomorrow.  I also have much cleaning to do, and straightening up and throwing away.  Katie, back from her day at the doggie spa, is beautiful but under my feet all the time.  Things will move more slowly today, but that’s OK; it’s the first day of my holiday break!

Happy holidays to all of you!

I’m sitting at my computer with a blank brain.  I have just two questions to answer for my archive final and then I am free until next semester.  The professor gave us six questions to choose from, which turns out to be a good thing as I don’t have even the faintest clue how to answer four of them.  I am having a hard time getting started.  I read through some notes last night for the first question I will address and thought I would get it written then, but went to bed instead.

This morning Katie the dog got me up early as usual.  She was scheduled for the groomer today, and if she had known that she would have let me sleep in!  So, since we were up, we went to the groomer and arrived prior to 7:00 a.m.  She was shaking the entire trip, but once there began to play with the groomer’s big dog.  I told them I was writing an exam, so they’re going to keep her all day. 

My window of opportunity to write a really fantastic final exam is today.  I know I just need to start writing  and the good stuff will eventually come, so this morning I am using the blog to get those writing juices flowing.  So.  Enough procrastination.  The sun is up, Katie is getting a bath, I have Christmas music playing in the background.  There are no excuses not to write these essays and get on with the business of Christmas.  I have twenty-seven people arriving at my house Saturday for dinner, so this last minor irritant needs to be finished today so that I can concentrate on getting ready for that family gathering.

Wish me well!

I just ordered flowers for a funeral to be held Wednesday.  A friend’s father died unexpectedly last night and we’re just hearing the news.  The funeral is far away and we won’t be able to go, so I send flowers in our stead.  Yet I know that in the chaos of the moment she won’t remember that there were flowers or who sent them.  She won’t remember the faces of all the people who hug her and murmer their sympanthies.  She probably won’t even feel the pain of loss till much later.  And later is when we need to be there for her.  So I send flowers to the funeral because that’s what you do, and I mark my calendar for later, when she will need to talk. 

Christmas and the death of fathers.  They just don’t mix.