Remembering Gordy, Goose and More (Memorial Day)

We have an annual April visit to the cemetery, remembering Grandpa Gordon. This past April, it was cold and chilly as we went on Saturday. Ana and Pam had gone earlier, on the actual anniversary of his passing. The picture above, is the classic "Gray Selfie" and the one below is with a timer.

When Memorial Day came around, the house was filled with the kids friends, and I felt like I should stay and supervise. Gray met up with Pammy and they visited the graves of the other family members (they'd gone to see Grandma Henry's grave during the Moab trip). 

Up to Alpine for Pam's Dad and Granny Goose.

 They met up with my folks to visit the baby's graves.

My little sister and brother

They didn't grab a picture of Paula's ...

Grandma and Grandpa Blackham

Aunt Nessa 

Cousin Dick

...and of course Granny Goose

Gray thought the Coke bottle was an especially good touch. 

On May 29, Grayson posted a tribute on Facebook.
Many family members shared memories too.

The incomparable Granny Goose

Six years ago today this Goose flew the coup, and there wasn’t much we could do about it.

I remember:

• A pink Cadillac
• Black licorice
• Oceans of Coke
• Skip-Bo
• A key ring big enough to fit half way up her forearm (and, of course, the jingle bell)
• The fabric room downstairs
• 50 cent pieces every year for my birthday matching the age I turned
• Some pretty potent snoring when she slept at our house
• “See you in church”

And an absolutely indomitable spirit.

Mothers Day ... From Gray

A tribute Grayson posted on Facebook.

Three women…three mothers…

The mother of my bride, the mother of my boys, and a mother of my own.

Their firstborn were all boys.

They became mothers in 1963, 1969 and 1995. One has 3 boys, one has 4 boys and one has 5 boys (though some may say she really has 6 boys). One has 2 biological daughters, one has 2 adopted daughters and one has no daughters. And they each "mother" in a way all their own.

I have an individual and unique relationship with each one. And at the risk of oversimplifying this, there are three hopes or desires that are woven deeply into these relationships and how they approach this somewhat rogue male. Here they are:

• A strong desire for me to be safe and healthy, mostly protecting me from myself :)
• The hope that I live up to my potential, seeing in me more than I see in myself
• The desire that I am happy, whether or not it is merited

That’s pretty good stuff. These are the most genuine, unfiltered, pure expressions that emanate from these relationships, from these women. I am theirs and they are mine and I feel more fortunate than I deserve or can express. And while today is the official day we've set apart to recognize them… as well we should… the reality is that I think about them and our relationships continuously. They are always on my mind… always in my heart.

Wishing love and happiness always, to the three muses of my soul.

A Post for Pammy

Grayson was out of town on Sunday, May 3 ... his mother's birthday. He had prepared a post for Facebook though, and made sure I got it posted for him. His words are always so touching and profound.

Here's his post ...

Goose and Zeke named her Pamela. That's what her birth certificate says. However, throughout her life she has been known by a host of monikers that are a clear indication of the affection people have for this dear soul. I wish I knew, and had time and space to share the story behind each name. Much of her history lies therein...

Pamela

Pam 

Pammy 

Hammy 

Maga 

Gaga 

Peep 

The moose (you'll have to ask Gordy on this one) 

Mom 

Mum 

Pammy-whammy ding-dong 

Today marks 69 years for her. Some will assuredly say or think it's not polite to mention a woman's age but, for me, this is something to celebrate, not recoil from. As has been the case for the 4 1/2 decades of my life with her, and up to the present time, she is often met with disbelief by those who are told her age. Indeed, there have been more than a few times someone thought I was her brother, not her son. And truth be told, she loves every minute of it... as well she should. 

For my part, there is a moniker that has come into view only in recent years… friend. 

She is my friend. 

She has an innate ability to make you feel important, validated. At least that has been my experience. In the midst of her own turmoil, she finds a way to deflect the spotlight and shine it on those around her, far more interested is what is going on with others than herself. That is the magic of Pammy. I can't explain it, nor does it need explaining. I can just revel in it. 

So today, I’m basking in the fiery glow of the candles on that cake, and wishing her a happy day and many, many more to come. 

Much love

April 23, 2015

Twenty-three years...

He died when I was twenty-two, so this year it's official or at least poetically so...he's now been gone longer than I ever knew him. In just under a month he would be 73. That age does not compute for me. In our family we siblings talk about crossing a somewhat ominous threshold....that of finally reaching the age he was when he left us...of outliving dad. Because I am the oldest, I will get there (or not get there) first. Not everyone in the family finds this discussion as funny as we brothers do. But it's nearly impossible, at this point, to let it go undiscussed.

On this anniversary of his passing I share five things, 

some of them reminiscent of his passing, some reminiscent of his living:

A picture at the graveside service. 

We have precious few (like 4) pictures of that day. 

Five of us are there (sans Kolby who was in Chile, an irreversible regret)

The April 28 funeral program. 

I like to be reminded of the names of people who were there, 

who participated, who loved this guy.

A scan of a "bereavement booklet" that someone gave to my sisters. 

The page I captured was Ana's. 

It's a glimpse of what grief looks like for a 9 year-old. Poignant, priceless.

The apple cider press...a relic of his past. I've tried to get rid of this heirloom many times, much to the chagrin and resistance of my mother. I know...she's right on this matter. This handcrafted masterpiece does one thing only: it makes juice. That's it. It's heavy, awkward and takes up space. But it's an embodiment of his craftsmanship and an inexplicable desire to do things differently, maybe even old school. Perhaps it was how he hoped to stay connected to a disappearing era.

A singular favorite picture of him, at the MTC, March 1989. He had lost some weight. And while he was never given to stylish dressing, in this pic he just looks great. He looks healthy, he looks happy. And, sadly, in three years he would be gone. I cannot look at this picture, ponder its substance, and not feel the flood of emotion. Oy...

Father's Day 2014

Father's Day ... five such handsome boys to take after their daddy! They weren't too happy about attempting to squint into the sun for my photo though!

As is Father's Day tradition around here, we went to Scott and Amy's house for the annual Father's Day barbecue. I brought jello cubes and Chex mix ... I ate way too much of the Chex mix. We take the annual Father's Day photo with everyone. We try to get a couple "good" photos, then a "funny face" one ... I guess Jared didn't get the message that this photo wasn't a funny face photo!

I thought it would be good to take a picture with Dad and us six kidlets. I can't remember if we've ever done that. It turned into quite the production, with so many camera's taking pictures, and of course Grayson always makes everyone (especially Derek) laugh. My oldest brother, my youngest brother and my hubby ... I swear it's a competition to see who can have the shortest hair (I think Derek wins, as he actually bics it).

It was a fun day of family, photos, food ... and Fitbits! That's what Mom got Dad for Father's Day. Many in the family have them now (Callahan just got his) and so there was a lot of Fitbit talk as well.

Gray posted a sweet tribute to my dad on Facebook ... this is what he said:

My father-in-law’s name is Lamar but I’ve only always known him as dad. Here are a few random recollections:

• In the 90’s he would obtain a yearly “rock permit” allowing him to bring rock down from Big Cottonwood Canyon. Each year, armed with a wheelbarrow, shovel and a truck we would haul load after load down to the house. Those rocks now adorn and comprise the sandbox, the cellar, walkways and, of course, the fountain and pond. He gives new meaning to “the wise man built his house upon a rock” or perhaps “this wise man built the rocks around his house."
• I’ve never met anyone as passionate about and committed to compost. Whether it is the Cool Whip container next to the kitchen sink or the 4’ deep pit in the yard, organic material and scrap does not go wasted in this household. I see now where Jen gets her aversion to waste.
• Dad (and mom) will be my lifelong excuse for NOT doing genealogical work. There doesn’t seem to be an aspect of genealogy and the technologies available that dad isn’t conversant in. I remember getting my first iPad years ago and he and I had a discussion about the iPad, centered around its suitability (or lack thereof) for use in family history work. I must confess that his sometimes passionate and highly detailed explanations on the ins and outs of family history work may be lost on me. I have not been a quick study. 
• I’ve heard him speak over and over again, in glowing terms about the doings and accomplishments of his grandchildren. He seems to be one of their biggest fans. He is quiet, and gentle and giving…and I am a better person for having known him. 

Dad, thanks for all…I hope it’s a good day.