Posts Tagged ‘precious memories’
Photo Serendipity
A few days ago, I unexpectedly received a photo from a cycling friend, Curt. It sparked a brilliant bout of serendipity for me.
In the photo, I am playing guitar, surrounded by people I recognized from years of riding the annual June “Jaunt with Jim” bike adventure. The image failed to trigger any specific memory of the moment depicted. Curt texted that 2003 was written on the back.
The bearded fellow over my shoulder is Doug Willhide, who happens to write and share regular snippets of his own “take on things and experiences,” which he calls “Nutshells.” For some reason that I’m not overtly aware of, I decided to share this picture with Doug. The response I got back was not on my radar.
He wrote that he believed that picture was from Ladysmith, WI, and included “notes” he’d found about that second-to-last day in 2003. A mere six paragraphs depicting in detail the entire day, from breakfast to crawling into his tent that night.
To my utmost surprise, Doug’s notes captured the place and moment when Jim Klobuchar gathered everyone on the lawn of the church outside of Catawba after lunch to read a poem I had written about the trip. That was a memory that I had lost all specific details of, beyond how it felt to be standing beside him as he read it, and the wonderful responses from folks afterward.
The serendipity of Curt randomly sending me this photo, my arbitrarily passing it along to Doug, the picture being from that very day when Jim read the poem to the group, Doug having found his notes from that year, and his capturing the pertinent details… it gives me chills.
It makes me feel like we are all more connected than we tend to notice.
Backstory:
On the Friday night that all the riders gathered at the start in 2003, I had asked Jim if I could read my poem to the group. He took it from me, pocketed it for the moment, and wandered off to greet others. The next day, he approached me and said he liked what I had written and wanted to read it to the group himself.
My first reaction was resistance. Would he get the cadence right? Was he unwilling to share the spotlight for even a brief moment? How could he even ask?
But just as quickly, my respect for his reputation as a writer and his journalistic credentials had me thinking, “Jim Klobuchar wants to publicly recite poetry I wrote?!” I was definitely honored. I had no idea he would end up making me wait until the following Thursday. I also had no clue that he would call me up to stand beside him while he performed it.
Between struggling not to blush too much, I was rewarded with seeing the reactions on people’s faces.
He couldn’t have timed it any better. It’s long been one of my most treasured moments.
I eventually wrestled that prose to fit into a melody and turned it into a song with a sing-along chorus. A friend helped me record a multitrack version of the song, which I combined with a slideshow of photos from the bike trips.
It was a special day when I knocked on Jim’s door to present him with a video about the bike adventures he conducted for 39 years.
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Dream Visit
It’s a mystery to me, one which I believe equally that either of two possibilities could be true. When a deceased person makes an appearance in my dreams while I am sleeping, is it because my mind conjured up the occurrence or because the spiritual nature of the passed soul placed themselves into the perceptions going on in my mind?
On Wednesday night, or actually, in the wee early hours of Thursday morning, I was having a series of fantastical dreams. At one point, I found myself seated in a booth common to many eateries, with Cyndie beside me and her mother across from me, and then Cyndie’s dad, Fred, showed up, sitting on the corner opposite from me.
It is the first time I have dreamed of Fred since he died in June.
I was shocked to see him, and incredibly thrilled. He seemed to acknowledge my reactions, flashing an impish grin as I scanned Cyndie and her mom who remained oblivious. I was so moved with his presence, the rush of emotions made me want to cry.
It being a dream, and my body essentially paralyzed, I couldn’t get myself to act on the urge.
My question lingers; did my mind choose to create this scenario of Fred’s spirit appearing in my dream or did his supernatural essence actually show up to connect with me?
Either way, it brought me a lot of joy in the moment, joy that lasted all day long and expanded each time I described it to people.
Of course, the best was when I had a chance to tell Cyndie about it.
While he was seated, he took a swig from what appeared to be a beer bottle. He looked really happy to me. The thought occurred to me that he could probably have a beer if he wanted in his afterlife. Fred had been sober about as long as Cyndie and I have been married. He drank a lot of non-alcoholic beers, but I don’t recall him ever looking as happy about it as he looked when tipping that bottle in my dream.
Did my brain conjure all that up? Maybe. Since I don’t really know, I’m happy just relishing the great feeling the dream provided.
It did nudge up the emotions of missing him a bit more than before, but the fun of seeing him again, and his looking so perfectly happy and mischievous was worth it.
Missing Fred is something that a lot of us are adjusting to and will linger long. If we could meet him in our dreams at will, I suspect it would happen more often than it does.
Maybe that lends a little credence to the possibility that appearances of lost loved ones in our dreams is more their doing than our own.
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Precious Memories
We had another company looking at our deck yesterday to quote replacing the boards. While I was waiting for the appointment, I took another shot at pulling up boards to expose more of the joists. The previous person who looked at it suggested getting rid of everything and starting from scratch. Yesterday’s suggestion was much more to my liking. We can just add a board between each of the 24″-spaced joists and put down a new surface, leaving the railings in place.
I like that plan. The handy-man neighbor that was first to look at our project was ready to slap on whatever new boards we wanted to buy, never a worry about the too-wide joist spacing.
Since we are going to keep the railings, I spent some time preparing them for refinishing, while yesterday’s guy took measurements. I’m hoping he got the numbers right because we also chatted the whole time. He used to own racehorses in the early days of the Canterbury Downs track in Shakopee. He understood what it is like to no longer have horses.
As I talked, I was unscrewing the multitude of clips that our friend, Marco Morales, had meticulously placed for a flexible LED light wire Cyndie wanted along the deck railing for a special party while the Morales family was visiting four years ago. Remember these, Marco?
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The clips didn’t hold up well against the abuse our winter weather dishes out and the tube had become almost black as the plastic aged, but it looked great that night!
As I unscrewed each clip, I enjoyed remembering the times we had during that visit. It seems like longer than just four years ago to me.
It is hard for me to imagine we might have an opportunity to make new memories from a future event that will match the peak we reached those days in August of 2015.
Honestly, I don’t know if we are fixing up the deck so we can enjoy it for years to come or to improve the appeal for someone who might want to buy the place, but it doesn’t matter.
I will always have the precious memories of living here.
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Relative Something 