Busy Celebrating

I am between Celebrations of Life:  Justin's and my Dad's.

More than 125 people came over the course of two hours to a local park shelter for Justin's celebration.  I'm not terribly comfortable being one of the focal people at large gatherings, so the whole thing was a blur to me.  Julia and her pickleball friends organized it. We ran out of beds and couches at our house.  Julia and I slept in the Scamp.

A soul food catering place from Madison brought in Justin's favorite foods: fried chicken, ribs, macaroni and cheese, and cornbread muffins.  A large assortment of Justin's Asian snacks was also put out for people to try.  The dried seafood was tried by many but liked by few.

Many tears were shed, but it was also a time for shared memories and laughs.  I'm finally sleeping better after almost six months of broken sleep patterns.

We gave away most of Justin's furnishings and valuable personal possessions.  One of those included the wheelchair van, which we planned to donate to someone in a need of a vehicle at Justin's church.  

Unfortunately, two days after the man (my age) received the vehicle and before he could get the title changed, he died after suffering a stroke.  It's just been that kind of year.  His surviving brothers and sister want the van to go to the church, and that's the tentative plan for now.  

My Dad's Celebration of Life will take place this Saturday in Iowa.  I expect a much smaller gathering as my Dad outlived most of his friends and family.  After that, I think Julia and I will head up north in the Scamp.  

And The Other Shoe Drops

 

Muscatine, Iowa is an old river town along the Mississippi, settled by white folks in 1837.  Iowa State University operated an experimental farm here, and the area is widely known for producing some of the most delicious watermelons and cantaloupes in the country.

Last Sunday afternoon, towards the end of my stay at Shady Creek COE (just north of Muscatine), I received a text from my mother, indicating that my father's three month journey in hospice was close to the end.  I hitched up on Monday morning and towed the Scamp ninety minutes to a county park campground on the eastern edge of Cedar Rapids, Iowa.  

Indeed, my dad was no longer responsive, and the hospice nurse told us that he could pass away at any time.  We sat with him for the rest of the morning before taking a break for lunch.  I then returned to the Scamp to let Callie out for a short walk.  During that time period, Mom went back to my Dad's room and found that he had stopped breathing.  She gave him a hug and a kiss; he took one more big breath, and then he passed away.  

Dad was 91 and lived a full life.  He graduated from a small Catholic high school in Cedar Rapids and then volunteered for the Marine Corps during the Korean War, receiving a purple heart during two tours of heavy combat.  Dad's time in the Marines had a profound impact.  A disinterested, undisciplined student in high school, he found discipline and confidence as a Marine.

After discharge, he started college, completing his bachelor's and master's degree at the University of Iowa.  He then obtained his PhD from Stanford University.  

From there, Dad became the first principal at a new Madison, Wisconsin high school and stayed there several years before accepting a position as assistant professor at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.  He wrote two textbooks in the area of secondary school administration, eventually becoming a full professor and chairman of his department for many years.  

My mother and father were very close during their long marriage.  At times, he was a difficult parent (Marine Corps strict) but he taught us to work hard and to never quit. 

Dad also taught us a love for travel.  We took family vacations across the country and even to Mexico and Hawaii.  He was very frugal in many other ways, but travel and education were things that he was willing to spend on. 

Losing my father and my son over a one month period has been one of the most difficult periods of my life--even though both events were somewhat predictable.  There will be two celebrations of life this month, and then it will be time to move forward with the memories intact.  Thankfully, the anxiety and stress have already started to dissipate. 

Can’t Get Enough

 I’m back on the Mississippi River. This time, I’m camped at a Corps of Engineers campground just north of Muscatine, Iowa. It’s one of my favorite places to hang out and do absolutely nothing. Well, some people would be bored, but I spend my time reading, walking and watching. 

Julia and her sister took their brother Scott to New Orleans as a 60th birthday present. I’ve been to the Big Easy several times. My grandfather used to say this about places that he didn’t plan to return: “I didn’t leave nothin’ there.” I wouldn’t go quite that far about New Orleans, but I’m content spending some time along the same river—upstream a bit at $13/ night with the Old Geezers’ discount.

Callie is a happy camper. 

Mid-week, this place is quiet. I can see the river out the Scamp’s dinette window, and I have a nice buffer of woods behind me. 

I’ll build a fire tonight at dusk. There’s a cold Pseudo  Sue IPA from Toppling Goliath in the fridge when I’m ready.

Beer in the Barn

Some of the best beer surprises are the ones you find in unexpected places. One of our new Iowa pickleball friends recommended that we try out a bar in St. Donatus for a good burger with homemade French fries. I asked about the beer, and the response was along the lines of “yes, they have beer.”

St. Donatus, population 120, is a very small town founded by a Luxembourg early settler. If you blink at highway speeds, you could easily miss it.

In doing some navigational research, I saw a listing for “Beer in the Barn” across the street from said bar and tucked behind an old Inn. As it turned out,  the burgers and fries at the bar were just okay, but Beer in the Barn was a stunning find. 

The pictures we took don’t do it justice. The stone barn is supposedly the oldest standing barn in Iowa. 

We asked the chief bartender/owner to tell us his story. In doing so, we learned that his wife is the brewmaster. We later learned from her that one of her best friends lives in Lodi. That Lodi woman is one of Julia’s friends and was Justin’s long-time piano teacher. Small world!

Julia’s hazy IPA was delicious. My milk stout was very good. There will be live music on Sunday afternoon. We plan to be back.

Along the River

Yesterday would have been Justin’s 24th birthday. I haven’t been sleeping well, and there are so many memories in the house. This morning, we headed to Iowa and set up camp a few steps from the shore of the Mississippi River. 

The campground is quiet mid-week, and it was a perfect day in the Upper Midwest: temperatures in the mid 70’s. A haze from the Canadian wildfires masked an otherwise sunny day. 

We’ve already seen our first barge. 

There is something very peaceful about sitting in a camp chair and watching the river flow by. 

May Update

After battling a failed respiratory system for four months in the hospital, my 23-year-old son, Justin, died last night.  Last week, he was driving the hospital bean-counters and back-office people crazy by having way too much fun in the hospital.  He was playing video games, watching sports and crime shows on tv, and ordering Uber Eats.  Then Saturday afternoon, he went code blue with rapid changes in oxygen level, heart rate and blood pressure.  

With modern medicine, drugs and technology, hospital staff stabilized his numbers, but Justin became quite uncomfortable and agitated.  His last words were, "Will it ever end?"   Allie flew home on Sunday night, and her presence in the hospital room on Monday brought a final, brief smile to Justin's lips.  He passed later that night.  

I'm proud of my son for his lifetime willingness to fight for a life that was in many ways fuller than most able-bodied people.  In return, he made our lives richer and fuller.  

After a time for grieving the loss of Justin and also celebrating his life, I will be back, hopefully, with more adventures of my own to document in this blog.  Life is short, and tomorrow is not guaranteed.