1372 Leeward Road, LOFS

written on June 15, less than two hours until it officially left our family....

In less than one hour you will belong to someone new. I remember seeing you as a new born - or even earlier! Just a bare piece of field land...that's what you were. Just north of us was a horse farm - boy were the flies thick in the summer, and huge too! Sometimes the few cow that lived north would get free and roam the golf course, they sure loved that special grass! I remember the call mom received from Karen next door, "Pen, do you see what I see?"

I remember the construction equipment that knocked down your weeds. It exposed your rich soil and made piles that were excellent for a young boy and girl to ride their bikes over.

I remember every stage of your growth. From the basement and foundation being poured to framing, to duct work, electrical and plumbing work to drywall being installed. I remember dreaming with my brother - "here's where my room will be" and walking through the framed walls.

Every day during your creation I remember riding my bike from the campground with my brother to check on your progress after school. Darn that winter though, no bikes, early darkness and we needed mom or dad to drive us to see you.

We moved in the spring of 1975. I was in the 5th grade and due to turn 11 in just a few days. I had the first slumber party on your floor in the living room. There were probably 10 girls in a circle giggling and happy.

I remember when our family grew. Hearing the news of our new baby around your kitchen table. What a conversation THAT was. After that a "new" bedroom was added downstairs. The baby would be upstairs...Next to ME!!! I was so happy.

I remember listening to the police scanner all the time. Our parents were volunteers in the Fire Dept. and for the Emergency Response Team. I don't recall us having more than 13 channels on our TV - Either cable didn't reach Four Seasons or our parents couldn't afford that luxury...maybe it was both things. So the scanner was entertainment. Plus there were so few houses here at the time. I recall it being us, the Sexton's, Noonan's, Lazar's, Derdowski's, Luke's, Schoon's, and the Blair's. Just a few other houses were nearby too. We kids would play Frisbee or freeze tag out back on the edge of the golf course and it would drive Mr. Blair insane! Mr. Schoon let me fish off his pier or set sail at his house whenever I wanted.

In the summer Tuesday mornings were Junior Golf Days. Everyone took lessons and played. We'd all ride our bikes to the pool most afternoons. What a great community to live in.

I do recall sadness here though too. Lots of fire calls dad would go on - not too many total house fires, but enough. Several emergency runs mom would go on. If they involved a child and she went out at night she was sure to come home and wake me just to hug me and hold me tight. Two incidents I particularly recall involve when a good friend of mine had a 16 year old brother who shot and killed himself - in the mouth right through his head. That was really tough on mom. The second tough run was when a kid we knew got into a really bad motorcycle accident. I can't remember his name now, but I know it was Mike K. He didn't die. He did go through years of recovery. He stayed close to mom and eventually grew up to become an EMT-A himself.

I remember seeing the body of a high-school kid being pulled from the big lake, by the pool. Our parents made a bunch of us watch as a lesson not to swim where we weren't allowed. His body was white and bloated. That imagine along with the feeling of the cold muck that goes between your toes when you step into the lake has been enough to scar me for life. I don't swim in lakes.

I did sail my sailboat on them though. I remember the 4th of July in 1976 sailing with my dad on the big lake. The wind was strong and the boat flipped. I was wearing a preserver, but my dad wasn't. He didn't know how to swim. I was so scared. I lost my glasses and I was worried about my dad. I can't recall if that was before or after I saw the body being pulled from the lake. I do remember my dad and I holding on to the boat and him trying to calm me down. He didn't panic like me. He calmly said, "Lisa, you've done this before. Tell me what we have to do to right the boat." He gave me something else to focus on. He told everyone when we made it back to shore how smart and brave I was.

My emotions are really hard to control as I am writing this. I am mourning your loss dear house... and I know you are just a house...how silly I am. Three minutes until closing starts. I am glad I am not there. I am sitting in the dining room right now. To my right is the extra lot my parents owned. It's lush and green. Tall trees cover it now. Again, it was a bare farm field when we first met. I ate cherries from two trees for breakfast and snacked on super sweet mulberries. It a far cry from the field lot it use to be.

Last night I realized that half of all the people who have ever lived in this house are dead. Dad built you and then 14 years later he died in bed. He was very happy here. And although we lost him here, it has always been a place full of good memories. I got dressed with my bridesmaids in this house. All my pre-wedding pictures were taken here.

I am recalling proms and homecomings, graduations and baby showers, birthdays and holidays, funerals and sad times, tornado storms and winter blizzards. Your walls have remained strong.
You have helped give us the extra strong foundation our family needed. You're the last common, solid thing which binds my siblings and I together.

Mom couldn't die here...your steps were too much for her. But she did get home to take a few last baths here. Thank you house for giving her that simple pleasure.

I know my home is no longer here. I slept for the last time in my old bedroom...with my own children near by.

I miss my mom and dad. I'll miss this old house. But I will cherish every memory I've been given.

Thank you house.

Aging life...

On Wednesday I sat in a doctors office with my Father-in-law while he had a test done. When we walked in he had to sign some papers. He signed his name and he had to date the papers. He asked what the date was. As he signed "June 20th" a lump formed in my throat. It was 22 years ago that my own dad had died. I hadn't even thought about it until the date was spoken out loud.

I was with my FIL because my husband (his youngest son) and his wife had other commitments. This was one of the reasons why we moved back here almost 10 years ago. If my FIL received bad news in the office I wasn't so sure I was the right person for this job.

Fortunately for me, no information was immediately forth coming. Maybe today he'll/we'll have some news. The procedure turned out not to be what my FIL thought it was going to be. He could have driven himself; they didn't put him under. He had to drink some barium and they took scans of his body every 15 minutes. He was expecting an endoscopy. He was very nervous though through this. His hands were so fidgety - not like him at all. And he talked a blue streak. The procedure took a lot less time than we thought. In the end, I was more than glad I could be there for Dad. Just having someone with you for reassurance has got to count for something. I'll go with him again too. Even if it's for the same kind of test. No one should have to go in for any testing alone.

I'm still not excited about hearing his results.

The other side of aging is that my first born turned 15 yesterday! Wow am I getting old, but I look SO good: not at all like the mother of two teens. I can't believe he's 15. He's taller than me now, his hair is longer too! What a smart kid he is. His interests are reading, music and gaming. He particularly likes JRR Tolkien, researching, old-rock and roll (Led Zeppelin and Van Halen, etc.), Texas Hold em', his GameCube games and good food. Only occasionally will he had a bad attitude about things. He's a pretty easy going guy. He's got a little bit of my "pleaser" personality in him. I don't necessarily like to see that.

I do realise I am a very lucky person having the children and family I have been blessed with.

Indiana's Coach Hep, another GBM loss?

So having all the knowledge I have of GBM and living in Bloomington, Indiana it wasn't a surprise to me that Coach Hep died this morning from a brain tumor. But information has been kept very private (rightly so), was it GBM? Only 18 months for his battle. He was 59.

I feel for his family. I am sure they were able to cherish their time together. I hope that with Coach Hep's battle maybe some more information about brain cancer was gleamed. There is a Proton Therapy clinic here in town, hopefully it was used and useful and can help others in the future.

I still have a lot of unanswered questions...what causes primary brain cancers? Can we prevent them? Am I at risk? Are my loved ones and friends at risk? Is it environmental or genetic? I have compassion too...it's hard to watch someone you love be unable to control what is happening to them. It's hard to know what to say and what to do to help them. What a demeaning disease brain cancer can be.

God bless you Coach Hep. We'll all say an extra prayer for your family.

A Note to the silent reader...

Dear Silent Reader:

I know you have read my words. At least I KNOW you have read some of my words, maybe not all of them. I know you have shared this Blog too with others. Hopefully you will have the time to read EVERYTHING posted here. Because I have read my words from the past and been transported right back in time, and I know you will be too. Anyone who is a "survivor" of losing someone to GBM will understand most of the raw feelings listed in this blog.

As for the personal "family" comments, those are ours alone to fully understand. Any person who reads this and has a family can most certainly relate in someway to the family comments. No family is perfect. Have untruths been written here? Not in my opinion, and this blog is just my opinion. In fact, I think all my comments here have been verbally spoken too. If they hurt, welcome to life. As I have commented before, I am a "pleaser". In life I try to make people happy...that's who I am thanks to my parentage. When you share this with others you cannot form your own opinions. Some people in your life have been hurtful and mean as long as I can recall, and that goes back to my very early childhood (actually pre-birth, but my memory is a little foggy from that time).

The day that my father died my life completely changed. I was totally pushed away and set free to face the world alone. I would say the same thing happened to my brother too on that day. Fortunately for us we stuck together. Not everything has been smooth for us in our relationship, but no matter what I would do anything for him. I truly feel I could call on him at anytime too and he'd do anything for me. We have an unspoken bond.

To my silent reader, just remember, Love is not something that can be bought. It is always around and sometimes we don't realize how strong it wraps around us.

To any silent reader wondering in life what is around them I offer this suggestion: Look back at old pictures. Look at the smiles on the faces of those around you when you were little. Maybe you will happily see the truth in your life of those people who love you more than you know. There are people in all our lives who loved us when we were too small to care for ourselves. As we grow, if those people haven't died, they still love us deeply. We, in our growing, have become independent and have pushed away. It's what is suppose to happen. Sometimes too many negative and hurtful opinions get stated in front of small ears. How unfair to those small ears. Those small ears aren't able to make their own opinions and they trust the adults around them.

Again as a "pleaser", I try to always balance out stories told in my household. There is good in all of humankind. The young ears in my household will have enough challenges to face in life as they grow. Life is not fair. I think we all need to know there are people who you can always count on, who have loved us since we were born.

Later I will comment on my latest adventure: saying good-bye to a house from childhood.

Any reader who feels brave enough is more than welcome to leave comments. But, if you just want to continue as a silent reader, so be it.

Moving on...

Well, My brother called me this week to casually let me know that our sister did indeed take all of the Consolidated Edison (ED) stock (my part would have been 610 shares). Sad and selfish, but not unexpected. Guess she felt she did indeed deserve it.

And, my mom's house did sell. The offical closing will be on June 15th. We will have until the 30th to clean out what we want. The empty lot next door is still available, but the end of the estate stuff is drawing near.

I wonder how much my siblings and I will communicate after this is all over.