Thoughts of a Friend

It may be cold and dreary and gray outside today, after all, it's February in Chicago.  However, there is a ray of light today that comes from within.  A light, tempered with sadness, but a light that cannot be extinguished.  You see, I had a friend.  Today is his birthday.  he would have turned 21 today.  he would've been a man.  Unfortunately, he was taken before he had the chance.  Or was he?

You see, Brian was no ordinary friend.  You couldn't get him down.  You could never wash the smile from his face or the light in his eyes.  He beamed so brightly, that everyone was caught in his spotlight at some point.  Once he shone on you, his light was in you.  It made you see things from a different perspective.  You looked for the simple joy in the smallest of places.  You felt the laughter from deep inside.  You questioned,... nope, that was him.  Sometimes the questions felt as if they'd never end, and yet, you didn't mind.  How could you?  They were always asked with such an infectious smile and jovial attitude, you didn't care how many times you answered them.

I received an email from Brian's family yesterday asking to think of him or share a story.  Ididn't really need to be asked.  I think of him often.  I think of his family often too.  I wonder how you deal with losing a child or a sibling.  How you fill that void and find the strength it takes to keep moving.  I think of Brian and how, some days, I could really use one of his smiles or a few of his questions.
 
A good snowfall makes me remember how he marveled in it's wonder and burst at the seems to rev up that snow blower.  This would have been a long winter for him, waiting for snow that never came.  Yet when it does snow, thinking of his delight makes me hate it's mess a little bit less.  Soon we'll be hearing the constant rev of the lawnmower (his other favorite machine) and holding our breath for a Cubs win  on a sunny day.  Somehow that sunshine will be brighter with a little of his light smiling down on us.

There was not a right of passage into manhood for Brian here in our world, but that's okay with me.  His simple love of the little things and his ability to share a joy that knew no bounds with everyone he met was monumental.  It is a rare man who can touch so many in such a short time.

I miss you my friend, but I don't envy those you laugh with now because you will always laugh in me  and I will always smile at your memory.  I will NEVER forget you.

Happy Birthday My Friend!

I've had an old friend in the back of my mind all week, especially through all the snow. You see, he loved the snow and would have relished in a blizzard of Epic proportions falling on Chicago. As we all grumbled and mumbled about the inconvenience, the closed schools and businesses, the shoveling and the emptying store shelves, my friend Brian would have been relishing in a state of perma-grin. Wonder in his eyes and excitement in his heart as he blazed a trail through the snow.


Yes, I said would have. We lost our friend 18 months ago to the ruthless disease of Cystic Fibrosis at the tender age of 18. You may remember me writing about it then. Well, today is his birthday, and what a day it is. Superbowl Sunday, with his most favorite Green Bay Packers playing in the big game. Two feet of snow on the ground and more fresh stuff falling as I write. What a perfect day he would have thought it to be. Somehow, I know he smiles and roars with that infectious laugh of his as he watches over us today.

So, Brian, my friend, I thank you for continuing to touch my life. I will never look a snow the same way again. I can't promise anything on the Packers, but for the first time in my life, I can smile just a little inside if they win, knowing how happy it would make you.
Happy Birthday!

Crimson Soles and Crimson Linings

There's only one thing that brings to mind. I believe it to be the greatest story ever read (to me, that is). I remember that little Golden Book, cracked at the spine, pages loosening from the binding, corners tattered. It didn't matter, that just showed how loved that book was.
The memory of crawling up in my Grandmother's lap and listening to the story of tigers, tail to mouth, holding crimson umbrellas and wearing pants, filled with greed and jealousy until the run themselves int o melted butter will stay with me long after the pancakes are gone. She never tired of reading that one and I never tired of hearing it.
I think it's a shame that the story of Little Black Sambo has been banned or at least the name has been changed and the wording made more politically correct. The same with the stories of Unclie Remus. Every child should hear the story of Brer rabbit and the Tar Baby. they should have the joy of seeing Johnny smile as he laughs through the lafin' Place in Song of the South.
I don;t believe banning these things will change history or a single persons mind. These stories are not what fuel racism and predjudice. To act as if they never existed will never make it so.
Instead, share them, celebrate them and learn from them. they are stories of friendship, love, problem solving and courage. they are stories of wisdom, acceptance and childhood innocence. What's so wrong with that? And what;s so wrong with the title? At the time that story was written, people were referred to as black. To change the name, again, does not change the fact of the time. We should not forget our past, or rewrite it. We should learn from it. History forgotten is bound to be repeated.

What brings me to this soap box, you may ask? Well, memories of my grandmother are always welcomed and enjoyed. As she approaches her 92nd year in frail condition, I find myself thinking of her and our time together more and more often. I know it is borrowed time and I cherish it. I don;t see her enough and I talk to her less. It seems the phone calls make matters worse by confusing her, and so I try to be kind and not exasperate the situation. It doesn't mean I don;t think of her every day. I thank God that I am blessed with memories and lessons and the love only she can give. I am thankful that my boys know that love and joy also. How lucky they are to havve had so many years with a great grandmother to love them.
so, truth be told, there was no soap box. tangent thinking, definitely, but not really a soap box.
You see, I made these today.


They seem to have opened the flood gate of tigers and pancakes and grandmothers and censorship and life. Wow, that's some pair of earrings!