Not the Reunion We Were After

          My Uncle Ross had battled cancer off and on for I don’t know how many years.  His last time in the hospital was majorly hard on his wife and children – but he kept up a positive attitude, I believe for their sake. 

         

          When he left the hospital, he was told that he would have no more than a year left on earth.  (Probably not in those exact words – but you get the gist)

          My cousin, Michelle, had sent out a request for an early “Christmas in July” celebration – hoping that we would all enjoy one last celebration with Uncle Ross and have those treasured memories as we had for mom.  Only her request came as a plea on my part: “LaTiesha is moving to Oregon.  Let’s have our Christmas early this year before she goes” She didn’t want to say what she really meant “before Dad goes”

          The date was set up for June 14^th – though not everyone would be able to attend.  I don’t think we’ve ever had a “Christmas in July” party in which all of us were there.  And yet when we had celebrated in December, I don’t remember anyone NOT being there – even if it was just to put in an appearance (which seemed to become more popular as the family grew) 

          The celebration for this year would take place at the same time when my family attended Church – which is why I had announced in my ward that the 7^th would probably be my last week (I was still tired from bus trip mentioned in my last post; wasn’t thinking clearly)

          On June 6^th I was on the bus going toward Salt Lake.  I had the option of using my laptop but did not actually make the discovery until the last leg of the trip, but chose not to deal with it in such tight quarters as it was.  Corey had texted me in the event that I wasn’t on facebook.  Michelle had messaged family members to let us know that Uncle Ross had chosen not to fight anymore.  Corey had just seen him two days earlier, and though he had lost a tremendous amount of weight, Corey said that Uncle Ross seemed to be in good spirits.

          Less than two hours later I received another text.  Uncle Ross had passed.  At that point I didn’t have (nor expect) any details about the funeral.  It may not have been until Monday that I learned that there would be a viewing on Thursday and the funeral would be on Saturday, the 13^th.  So of course we wouldn’t be having the “Christmas in July” on the following Sunday.  

          Roland had graduated from his collage courses and already had his diploma in hand.  But he had signed up to walk across the stage in a graduation ceremony that same Saturday – an activity that I was never truly excited about to begin with.  I would seriously rather attend a funeral than a graduation or award ceremony that always seems to drag and make me feel like death would be an awesome option for ending the many hours I feel like I spend at said ceremony.  But it’s not like I wished for it to happen just so I’d have an excuse not to go.

          Meanwhile, Roland seemed to forget about it as well as he planned to leave Utah on Friday night after he got off work to take a load of furniture and packed boxes to Oregon.  He didn’t attend either viewing or funeral.  He and Bill both work late on Thursday and so Bill did not go to the viewing either.  Kayla stopped by with their three children and we rode to the viewing address together.

          The viewing, without doubt, is the most interesting that I’ve ever attended.  Corey would have loved it, I think.  There was a “celebration of life” theme.  Nothing wrong with it – just different.  It wasn’t something that Kayla and I are used to.  It just felt irreverent when we first arrived.  I felt like we had walked into a cocktail party rather than a viewing. But it was a great send-off. Made it easier on my aunt and cousins – who for the most part, were out mingling amongst the “guests”.  Uncle Ross was left in a room by himself (for the most part).  Aunt Fern said it made it so much easier for her not to be in the same room with his lifeless body. 

          They had dressed him in golf clothes and he held a golf ball.  Kayla and I tried to visit with family members while taking turns supervising the children as Anna wanted to go in one direction and Gary in another and the food wasn’t as important as they thought.

          Anna wanted to go upstairs in a closed area and Gary wanted to stand near enough to the water to play in it.  BJ was very good, but after a while he wanted to get down and explore as well.  Neither Kayla nor I were willing to allow that to happen as he could have easily been stepped on.  Didn’t seem like a very kid-friendly environment – but than neither is the traditional viewing that we are used to. Children acting up or misbehaving seems more noticeable at a viewing than it does at Church services.  But given the amount of volume level amongst those who had come to pay their respects, their behavior seemed to be overlooked by everyone except me and Kayla. 

         I had asked Earl how they had found the funeral home or made the arrangements. He said that the family had been introduced to the services after an uncle had died.  His mom liked the feeling of “life” as opposed to the mourning for death.  The family agreed and made the arrangements.

         Kayla and I did not stay long as the kids really needed to removed from the situation at hand.  I think all of us were tired.

          The Saturday service was really nice.  Three of my cousins gave talks and shared memories of their dad.  Michelle’s husband played guitar while Corey sang “Landslide”, a song that neither one of them were familiar with, but I had heard it before.  Michelle mentioned that the song had been chosen as her family doesn’t seem to deal well with change – at least where death is involved.

           Golf balls had been purchased for mementoes to take for each person who attended the services.  One son-in-law works with the police force and made arrangements for a police (on motorcycles) escort to be with the old fashion looking Hearst.  People may have seen it and thought there must have been an important person in the casket.  It was indeed a great honor.

After the services were over at the cemetery, we all threw paper airplanes.  A balloon was tied to one to send on high.  Just a few minutes later many of us returned to the church to have lunch with the family.  I went around and said my good-byes to all of the family members who had usually turned out for Christmas dinner.  Some who said they couldn’t or wouldn’t make it to the BBQ for an early July Christmas. It was Uncle Ross’s final farewell and everyone turned out for it.  And it was great.

  

 

Now he is reunited with his mom and dad and brother and sister. This picture is my dad with Uncle Ross long before they were my dad and uncle.

Greyhound or Fisher Price

Three weeks ago I was at a Roseburg service station waiting for a Greyhound bus.  I had purchased my ticket several hours earlier, but the bus was running late – so I was told by the worker who was frantically trying to wait on everyone.  He had us stand in two lines – those who were purchasing tickets for Greyhound and those who were patrons of the convenient store.

Fortunately for him there was another employee working the pumps.  Whoever had been assigned to be in the store with him had called in sick, had been fired, or quit without notice.  I guess he handled himself rather well.  Poor guy couldn’t wait until ten when he’d finally be able to turn off the lights and call it a night.

        There were probably about 15 people or so waiting for the bus going to Portland.  The man who had sold us our tickets said that the rumor was that the bus driver had had a nervous breakdown and had decided to walk out on whatever passengers happened to be on his bus.  I looked at it as kind of a good thing – after all I wouldn’t want to be stuck on a bus with a driver who was having a nervous breakdown.

        The time stamped on my ticket said June 5th @ 5:58 pm.  I was told the bus would be 4-5 hours late. Fortunately I had brought with me a book that Tony and Rochelle had given me for my birthday just the week before.  I had plenty of time to finish it.  Fortunately for me, I also had light.

        Most of the passengers had moved to one side of the building where they enjoyed their smokes – I don’t know how many or if they were all smoking.  I was waiting on the opposite side and so was a guy named Jake Wood (real name) In between reading, we talked for a bit.  I really enjoyed our conversation.

Jake lived in a different part of Roseburg (or so I had assumed) and had taken a taxi to the station and had purchased a ticket as far as Eugene.  He had planned to see a concert in Eugene with some of his buddies – and as the clock made its way around, Jake would say that there would still be time to see the second act if the bus would come right now.  Soon the concert was over, but he could still hang with his friends.  After 11:00 he decided to call it a night and announced that he decided just to walk home and shook my hand and excused himself.

I had seen other potential passengers come and go throughout the night.  There had been some fair or carnival going on across the street.  But it had even shut down by the time a bus pulled in at 12:20.  It was going to Los Angeles.  I had to wait another 2 hours and 10 minutes before the one to Portland finally showed.  I felt rather blessed that I had noticed it at all.  It had pulled up to the side where the smokers had been waiting.  I guess that’s why they had been waiting there.  Somebody in the group knew that it came on the side.

So I boarded the bus at 2:30 Saturday morning.  According to my ticket I’d be arriving in Salt Lake that same night.  I asked the driver about correcting the dates and times which he assured me I could do once I arrived in Portland.  Nobody else was there to catch the bus.  I wondered how long after Jake left had I been by myself – well, maybe not totally.  There was another man asleep on the benches when I left.  He said he was waiting for the store to open.

The bus was nice.  The seats were comfortable.  Most of the passengers were asleep.  It was about 4:30 when the sun started to peek in the sky.  It was almost 8:00 when we pulled into Portland.

I took my tickets to the counter to have a new agenda issued with the correct dates and times.  I was told I’d have another four hour wait.  At least the Portland station was nice.  It was an actual bus terminal.  I ventured outside and walked around the area – but not too far.  I did want something to eat, but my sense of direction is not that keen.  Plus my backpack felt like it weighed 80 pounds.  I should have not brought the amount of stuff that I did.

I called Beth to tell her I’d be in Portland until noon.  She felt bad that I hadn’t called sooner.  I didn’t know.  Until after I arrived, I had no idea how long I would be.  

I wish the bus I had ridden from Roseburg was the same one that would take me to Salt Lake.  It was actually going from Portland to Denver.  Its outward appearance didn’t seem different from any other bus, but the interior was definitely smaller.  Even a person with anorexia would not be able to walk down the aisle without touching the two aisle seats.  Not a sweet deal for anyone even slightly overweight.  I can guarantee you that.  It was awful.  It was worse than waiting 8 ½ hours at a service station in an unfamiliar city.  

  

I did not get back to Salt Lake until after 6:30 Sunday morning (keep in mind that Denise had dropped me off at the station on a Friday when there was still enough light in the sky to get her to Newport) and Roland and Jenna met me there and took me home – where I slept for about four hours before getting ready for church (one of the few times when the 1:00 – 4:00 block is not so bad)

I thought it would be my last day at that ward, and got up to express my good-byes.  I thought I’d be going to a family reunion the following week.  But that’s also for another post.

Fresh Blueberries: One Dollar per Pound

          Blueberries are one of Jenna’s absolute favorite things to eat.  There was a time when Biff had purchased twelve cartons of blueberries.  She ate eleven of them.  She would have eaten all twelve, but as Biff had made the purchase, I thought it was only fair that he get at least one carton.

This morning we had the experience of picking blueberries from the DelEv blueberry patch at the end of Myrtle Creek – or so we believe.  The area didn’t seem to have service for cell phones or other such electronics.

Evelyn introduced herself to us and showed us where to pick the blueberries.  It took only 20 minutes to pick 5 pounds.  I think she was disappointed that we had not picked more – but we are not canners or freezers.  Perhaps in time – but we still haven’t unpacked everything for Heaven’s sake!  

Roland mentioned my blog to her and said I would help advertise her product – though I don’t know how many followers I have in Myrtle Creek.  I would guess zero.  I don’t know that I have followers in the entire state of Oregon.  But here is my plug.  And here is her flyer:

They are also looking for pickers (or a picker) to work for 75 cents a pound.  Roland and I tried to talk Jenna into doing it for the summer. Pocket change, we figured.  I could drive her there each morning.  She didn’t appear to be too interested.  I called our employment specialist after we returned home.

It was a fun experience.  Both Roland and I enjoyed getting to know Evelyn.  Maybe I’ll facebook the flyer I scanned.  I am fb friends with at least two friends who live in Oregon – only three to four hours from Myrtle Creek.  At least one of those two enjoys canning and preserving food.  I will post it to her wall.

It was a positive experience.  We’ll be back.

Back Up to June 4 & 5

         Denise and I didn’t always communicate.  She likes to use the map.  I like the GPS.  She had issues about trusting the GPS.  I can no longer navigate from a map without becoming nauseous.  I’ve just never seemed to be able to move forward while looking down. I don’t know why. The exception was when I was on my mission and did the navigation as my companions drove around.  But that was over 30 years ago.

         Anyway, Denise and I had moments of oddities, but we never got on each other’s nerves to the point that we became emotionally upset about it.  I suppose she had every reason not to trust Siri.  After several hours on Highway 140, Siri seemed to be getting bored as she directed us to take the “unpaved road” First of all, really?  Second of all, there are no roads – unpaved or other except for Highway 140.  But the Garmin took our car off the path and stuck it on the side in the middle of the black screen and Siri kept advising us to get on the main road.  I shut off the Garmin.

         Garmin reset once I plugged back in, and we were on the road.  As mentioned in this post our plan was to go to the Medford Temple to do a few names that she brought.  She had wanted to go Thursday night.  Again, I misunderstood her.  We were both so tired.  I sensed she was in pain after having driven all day.  She took a nap for longer than she had hoped and so we did not make the temple until the following morning.

         Unfortunately for us, the Medford Temple does not open on Friday until 3:00.  We were hoping that she would have had me in Roseburg by then and on her way to Newport.  Friday turned out to be a sensationally LONG day – but that’s for another post – or maybe four.

        

         The main draw for Denise to drive that route in the first place was to go through the Medford Temple.  She handled it well.  Took lots of pictures.  There was a sister working in the garden who took pictures of Denise and me in front of the temple – so that was nice.

         So here are some pictures that were taken days 1-3.  All before Denise and I parted company:

Salt Lake Bountiful Flats under water

the salt sticking out reminded me of glaciers

Lucky Reservoir

falls at Lucky Reservoir

Highway 140 had some very sharp curves

Medford Temple

More To Come

It's been eleven days since I was able to post.  Since that time I have packed my life into several boxes and have made the move to Oregon.  What appeared to be a quaint little house is all the sudden feeling miles long as I unpack and move items from room to room and exhaust myself and poor Roland.  He brought his job with him and that is nice.  We are hooked up to the internet and cable.  I have several posts in my head.  Some ideas jotted on paper.  There is so much to write about and the work ahead seems so endless.

Funny, before we moved into our rental, Roland wished to continue to look for a place to purchase.  But I want to experience Mayberry for a while.  I love the house.  I am pleased with all the shelfing space and number of outlets.  I can breathe.  But I am quite pooped.  And Jenna has been of little help.  She still has the attitude of life revolving around her.  She should be the center of attention at all times.  Right now I am so tired and unfocused that I have not lived up to any expectations of being a fun mom.  But there's so much to do - so many things we still need to find.  So many chocolates.  So little time . . .

I don't know when my next post will be.  May not be until July.

Stand By Until Further Notice

I have at least four more
post ideas.  But I need to
continue packing.

We will be moving in
two weeks.  I hope I don't
forget what it is I need/want to
post.

Any breaks I take will
not be long enough - especially
now that Jenna is
off for the summer.