CHAPTER 46 The Visitor
Our third child had problems. He was a Trisomy 18 baby with a number of deformities. His heart was one of those. The doctors sent him home and advised us to prepare for his death within a few days.
Debby named him after me, Ronald but with Micah as his middle name. He lived 23 days, almost always in someone's arms. We all came to know each other very, very well. He was a delightful and very aware little visitor.
Almost at the same time as Micah's arrival, I took over as Director of a homeless shelter. Almost as always, I managed to define the best way to do the job - raising money, handling staff changes, remodeling the old building and generally putting much more of myself into the job than the job deserved.
Publicity really made it happen with newspaper, TV and civic organization lectures all during the Gulf War. The place began to shine in many ways. But, you can never count on human beings being well-behaved. One of the ladies on the executive committee attempted a seduction, I declined politely and that was that. Issues began to develop ranging from my age (then 50) to fund raising. Hell after all, hath No Fury. That was Writing on the Wall and I quickly for the sake of the shelter, hired my replacement and got out of there.
One More Time was not entirely dead, we somehow survived on that income until Summer began school and Dustin began pre-K. Summer did OK in school but Dustin (remember the boy on the Moody Blues "Every Good Boy Deserves Favor" album of 1969?) began to show signs of near-genius. With the help of Dr. Seuss, he climbed up in my lap and taught himself to read "Hop On Pop" in one easy session as I watched in amazement.
"Pop" became a good dad. Many of the kids that were Summer and Dustin's friends began to congregate often. I was honored several times by having them cuddle up and tell me they wished I were their dad. I on the other hand, was beginning to wish I could be one of them. We loose the Magic of childhood by exchanging it for Wisdom. It is not a good deal.
Changes - sometimes dramatic changes, come fast when you are raising kids. Years loose their numbers and 1991 through 1995 whizzed by in a series of events like numbers clicking by on a speedometer. A couple of family vacations were worked into the mosaic, one of them was a visit to Arizona. Somewhere in this time frame The Internet came into play and in 1995 an online e-mail reunion with old KCAC and KDKB friends occurred. It became so intense that a real reunion was planned and carried out on the summer solstice of 1996. It was a warm and fine get-together.
Summer Rose turned 12 that year. She had joined Debby on a 140-mile daily commute to and from a school where Debby had taken a job several years earlier. Our little hometown had become a bedroom community. Long commutes to work in excess of 200 miles now as then, are very common.
From the time of the Arizona reunion until almost Christmas I worked on my family genealogy. All during that time I began to have precognitive warnings of danger regarding Debby and Summer. Finally, on two separate occasions, I called a family meeting to ask Debby to quit her job, Summer to quit the school and come home. I wonder if Nostradamus saw things so clearly. I wonder yet if I was being whispered to by some angel or perhaps the ghost of some ancestor.
About December 15th 1996 my gaze was jerked away from my work to the sky outside my window. There was that feeling of Deja Vu again, so strong it almost made me sick. It was like someone had said; "Watch this". A huge, bright fire ball filled the sky and exactly, the dimensions of the window. A meteor. No question of it. A fire ball. No question of it. A sign.
December 17th was just fine to start with. I have discovered since, that the 17th of the month has paricular significance in my family. My dad and my son were both born on th 17th of the month. Debby and I met on the 17th. There are various other "coincidences" that occur on the 17th. This particular 17th I had a powerful foreboding. So much so, I took Summer in my arms that morning and held her far longer than would pass for "usual".
By the time they left Wal-Mart the storm had fully arrived. This was it. It wasn't on the route of the grueling daily commute. It was on a mindless errand for an item that could have easily borrowed from dozens of friends at the school. Ice and snow are dangerous for those not used to driving in it. Black ice that can't be seen on what is thought to be a wet roadway, is absolutely lethal. Debby spun out, totally out of control in her little Geo Metro and hit broadside - Summer's side - into the nose end of a farmer's pickup truck. Summer died instantly.
Almost immediately, during the unconcious days for Debby in ICU, money started coming to us from every pocket, from every hand, from every imaginable direction.
SOMETHING FOR YOUR NOTEBOOK:
Mammon is not a choice. It is a curse.
What a bummer to end _-=Plant Your Seeds=-_ on. Right? Yes. Absolutely. The death of a child is the most soul-wrenching thing that can happen to anyone. Chapter 47 The End - The Legacy follows but it is almost anti-climactic.
What happened next? Is there an O. Henry ending to this? No. but the story ends here for my part. OUR part (after Chapter 47) begins here;
Cherished Blossoms From Our Summer Rose
Debby named him after me, Ronald but with Micah as his middle name. He lived 23 days, almost always in someone's arms. We all came to know each other very, very well. He was a delightful and very aware little visitor.
Almost at the same time as Micah's arrival, I took over as Director of a homeless shelter. Almost as always, I managed to define the best way to do the job - raising money, handling staff changes, remodeling the old building and generally putting much more of myself into the job than the job deserved.
Publicity really made it happen with newspaper, TV and civic organization lectures all during the Gulf War. The place began to shine in many ways. But, you can never count on human beings being well-behaved. One of the ladies on the executive committee attempted a seduction, I declined politely and that was that. Issues began to develop ranging from my age (then 50) to fund raising. Hell after all, hath No Fury. That was Writing on the Wall and I quickly for the sake of the shelter, hired my replacement and got out of there.
One More Time was not entirely dead, we somehow survived on that income until Summer began school and Dustin began pre-K. Summer did OK in school but Dustin (remember the boy on the Moody Blues "Every Good Boy Deserves Favor" album of 1969?) began to show signs of near-genius. With the help of Dr. Seuss, he climbed up in my lap and taught himself to read "Hop On Pop" in one easy session as I watched in amazement.
"Pop" became a good dad. Many of the kids that were Summer and Dustin's friends began to congregate often. I was honored several times by having them cuddle up and tell me they wished I were their dad. I on the other hand, was beginning to wish I could be one of them. We loose the Magic of childhood by exchanging it for Wisdom. It is not a good deal.
Changes - sometimes dramatic changes, come fast when you are raising kids. Years loose their numbers and 1991 through 1995 whizzed by in a series of events like numbers clicking by on a speedometer. A couple of family vacations were worked into the mosaic, one of them was a visit to Arizona. Somewhere in this time frame The Internet came into play and in 1995 an online e-mail reunion with old KCAC and KDKB friends occurred. It became so intense that a real reunion was planned and carried out on the summer solstice of 1996. It was a warm and fine get-together.
Summer Rose turned 12 that year. She had joined Debby on a 140-mile daily commute to and from a school where Debby had taken a job several years earlier. Our little hometown had become a bedroom community. Long commutes to work in excess of 200 miles now as then, are very common.
From the time of the Arizona reunion until almost Christmas I worked on my family genealogy. All during that time I began to have precognitive warnings of danger regarding Debby and Summer. Finally, on two separate occasions, I called a family meeting to ask Debby to quit her job, Summer to quit the school and come home. I wonder if Nostradamus saw things so clearly. I wonder yet if I was being whispered to by some angel or perhaps the ghost of some ancestor.
As Christmas grew near we all began to feel the excitement. At least the kids did. On the grownup side of the table the annual grind of finances was upon us. Just like every Christmas. Summer asked; "Daddy, what do you want for Christmas?" `Money' I replied `Just a whole bunch of money - not too much but enough to not have to worry about it for a year or two.
I should have asked for love. Summer began to prepare to come home. There were notes of parting from her friends but Debby simply could not be moved to give up her career. I could not blame her. We were dependent on her income and who could believe such whispers? On the second family conference I was moved to say that there was going to be a wreck and one - probably Summer - would die. Within a week of that, we got a call. Debby was being offered a job at the school right down the street. I almost screamed for her to take it but it was as an English Teacher, Not a Librarian. It was a fateful choice. I know it seems as though I blame Debby for what happened but it takes two to make a really serious mistake. I blame myself first for not answering an innocent child's question about Christmas with equal innocence. I chose in all sincerety -
Mammon.
About December 15th 1996 my gaze was jerked away from my work to the sky outside my window. There was that feeling of Deja Vu again, so strong it almost made me sick. It was like someone had said; "Watch this". A huge, bright fire ball filled the sky and exactly, the dimensions of the window. A meteor. No question of it. A fire ball. No question of it. A sign.
December 17th was just fine to start with. I have discovered since, that the 17th of the month has paricular significance in my family. My dad and my son were both born on th 17th of the month. Debby and I met on the 17th. There are various other "coincidences" that occur on the 17th. This particular 17th I had a powerful foreboding. So much so, I took Summer in my arms that morning and held her far longer than would pass for "usual".
Towards the afternoon, I kept my eye on the weather channel and sure enough the radar began to light up with a powerful winter storm 70 miles from where I was and where Debby and Summer were. I picked up the phone to call Debby and tell her to stay put, stay with a friend, stay at a motel, whatever. Don't try to drive home in the ice and snow that was about to hit. One of the library assistants answered the phone. Debby and Summer had just gone to town for an urgent feminine napkin errand. It was only 5 miles.
By the time they left Wal-Mart the storm had fully arrived. This was it. It wasn't on the route of the grueling daily commute. It was on a mindless errand for an item that could have easily borrowed from dozens of friends at the school. Ice and snow are dangerous for those not used to driving in it. Black ice that can't be seen on what is thought to be a wet roadway, is absolutely lethal. Debby spun out, totally out of control in her little Geo Metro and hit broadside - Summer's side - into the nose end of a farmer's pickup truck. Summer died instantly.
Almost immediately, during the unconcious days for Debby in ICU, money started coming to us from every pocket, from every hand, from every imaginable direction.
SOMETHING FOR YOUR NOTEBOOK:
Mammon is not a choice. It is a curse.
What a bummer to end _-=Plant Your Seeds=-_ on. Right? Yes. Absolutely. The death of a child is the most soul-wrenching thing that can happen to anyone. Chapter 47 The End - The Legacy follows but it is almost anti-climactic.
What happened next? Is there an O. Henry ending to this? No. but the story ends here for my part. OUR part (after Chapter 47) begins here;
Cherished Blossoms From Our Summer Rose
posted by freespeak@gmail.com at 11:30 AM
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