Running In Place

I’d have a complex, because I would be sure the gods were spending their days thinking of new ways to mess with me.  Fortunately, I hardly matter in the expanse of time and space so I’m not taking it personally.  In the end, none of it’s really about me anyway.

So, following my last, long ago post, 2 key people in my office quit.  I knew one was leaving and frankly was not feeling too broken hearted, even though it meant more work.  But the other, well that was a real blow - she’s one of those glue people who holds everyone else together in an invisible sort of way.  And she did so much shit in that office that we’re still figuring out all that’s not getting done now that she’s gone (and probably will for awhile).  For a time, getting out of work before 8 PM and two day weekends were but a memory.  Things are settling somewhat now that one of the vacant positions has been filled by a very competent person and I’m once again having occasion to see the old man in the evening before he goes to bed. 

Right at the beginning of this month my step-father became very sick and died within a matter of days.  I had the great gift of spending the last 16 hours of his life with him, his current wife, and his 5 children (as well as 2 foster children that we reunited with after 14 years).  My step-father and I had a very difficult relationship when I was growing up and, after my mother died, I had only sporadic contact with him.  But in the past year, I had more occasion to see him and be with him as dementia encroached.  To sit again with his family, my long-ago family, telling stories and sharing memories of a man who was essentially a tortured soul, who could be harsh and hard, but who was also sentimental and loving.  My mother once said, “he loves me the way I always wanted to be loved.”  That intensity and passion that could radiate such love could also burn with anger, sometimes barely controlled.  Before my mother, it wasn’t controlled, there was violence.  With her, it was muted, I think it was his moment - when he was able to be the best he could possibly be.  When she was gone, that was gone too.  He came from a horribly abusive home and, at 16, lied about his age to join the army and serve in WW2.  He had 4 wives in his lifetime, 3 of whom predeceased him.  I don’t know if he ever really knew what it was to be happy - clearly he wanted to be, clearly he tried - I just don’t know that he knew how.  I hope he is at peace now.  Perhaps finally, blissfully happy.  Perhaps simply at rest.  We all sat with him that day, we had long forgiven him for our various injustices and wished only to be present with each other and remember the moments that compiled a life.

The following week, I scrambled to prepare for my trip to Salt Lake City for a conference.  I ended up leaving a few days early, which was fortunate because many folks from the Northeast were thwarted in their travel as a result of the Nor’easter.  We had already gotten about 7 feet of lake effect snow the week previous so by the time the big storm dumped another 2 feet and some more lake effect immediately added another foot, I was very glad to be across the country where the temps were in the 50F range and not a lick of snow on the valley floor.  Since I was in Salt Lake a couple of days early I figured I’d better get out and about before I had to spend hours on hours in lecture sessions.  I saw the Jazz play and Andrei Kirilenko is my new boyfriend.  Though I didn’t see the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, I was able to see the organ recital, which was lovely.  One day, I took the light rail out to Trolley Square and did some shopping then, a couple of hours after I left, I heard about the shooter.  In the end, what will alway resonate with me when I think of this particular city will be the beneficence with which it met this whole tragedy.  At least initially, there was no public condemnation, no laying of blame.  The family of the young man who killed, and was killed, were supported as, of course, were the victims’ families.  They responded not with defensivness and self-protection, but with genuine sorrow.  Now a week has gone by, the climate may have changed, things may be getting complicated and ugliness may be appearing - but in the beginning, it was something transcendent, in my eyes, sorrow simply shared.  That’s only my limited observation, but if I never forget Salt Lake City - that will be the reason why.

As for the conference itself, meh.  Lots of research presentations, not enough applicable knowledge.  And, though I am gung-ho on the concept of palliative care like you would not believe - the sessions seemed, to me, focused on palliative care nearly to the exclusion of hospice care - and I’ve got a big problem with being marginalized even further than we already are, and by our own offspring for heaven’s sake.  That’s a rant story for another day.  The good news is, I will now tell you the greatest thing in Utah (um….that you can eat), perhaps the best idea ever:

The Crown Burger.  So Very.Very.Good.  It’s a credit to my willpower that I only ate there twice during the week and I am saddened, yet thankful, that there is not a Crown Burger within driving distance of my home.  Things could get really ugly in that case.

So there you have it.  Four weeks of, well…of all sorts of stuff.  I ended up a DNS for both of the February races on my docket (and marked them as such because I had already registered for them) but I just can’t kick myself too hard about it.  I was really sorry to miss the Chilly Chili, which I ran in its first and second years and was hoping to be one of those “I ran it every year from the beginning” folks, 20 years from now.  In any case, I’ve got an ambitious list from here on out and, though it may not end up being practical to make each and every one, I put them up - my flag of intention.  The world will turn, I’ll come along for the ride, and we’ll see what we will see.