The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing

Hey Annie, Jon, Dan,...

Finally, have a few moments to sit down and respond to this excellent dialogue!  Busy week, capped off with Tilo performing beautifully at the annual Solo & Ensemble event at school!

Annie, thanks for your initial message.  It's always a great exercise to assess our priorities--like the quote Ron Lott often used from Steven Covey--'the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing'!  Sharing our appreciation for each other is absolutely part of that main thing in our lives, and though we may not do this enough, I hope you all know how much I appreciate each of you and the inspiration you provide in my life.

And let's extend this to each of our families as well...  I thoroughly enjoy the role as Uncle, in part because it doesn't require the parental responsibilities--I've got even more chances to goof around with them than I have with my own!   

Your message, Annie, was poignant in a couple of ways in particular.  First of all, I was much more conscientious this morning of the physics of snowshoveling as I cleared out a path on our sidewalk (which, in some places, topped 4 feet after the B'11izzard!!)--all of it, very packed snow.  Paid attention to muscles and bones and joints and breathing and presence of mind--it was actually quite a spiritual exercise,...incredibly fulfilling!  And I took a number of Gatorade breaks to regroup my senses and assess progress.  And this was a heckuva blizzard--kept the kids home for 2 days--reminiscent of (but still not as outtacontrol as) the Blizzard of '79!

But what struck me even more--and in line with the subsequent responses from you guys, Jon and Dan--was reliving the last experiences with Joe and Don.  It haunts me to this day that I had not spoken with Joe for seven months prior to his death.  And this was by no means out of malice or discord--it just hadn't worked out, even over Christmas.  I did send him a letter in February '89, but hadn't gotten a response. 

The last experience I had with Joe was when we (including you, Dan) had driven down to Champaign for Band Camp mid-August '88.  I was dropped off at the Illini Union building with just an army tote bag with some clothes and a shaving kit, a Walkman and some tape cassettes (wow does that make me feel old), my loaner flugelhorn, and the music I was supposed to have practiced during the summer.  Dan, you and Dad continued south to Charleston for a reason I know we talked about since, but cannot now remember--I'm not sure I even mentioned that my dorm wasn't going to be open 'til the following morning.  I wound up spending the night on a third floor fire escape landing of one of the buildings on the quad...  It was a strangely calm sleep before I was awoken by an ROTC group out jogging through the quad.

Also memorable about that time is that we had just come from dinner with you, Jon, and Parul--Dad's first and only meeting with her.  And prior to that, we had gone to see the very controversial 'The Last Temptation of Christ' at the Biograph, which was such a surreal experience apart from the movie.  There is much packed into that last time spent with Dad--perhaps that was how it was meant to be.  But I still beat myself up for not having made more effort to call him since that time.

Then, in full contrast, is the experience with Don.  The relationship that he and I had improved dramatically after high school, due to several major factors, which I won't go into here.  But up to his death, what drew us so closely together was the shared experience with cancer.  When I was diagnosed first, I saw him in such a different light--incredibly giving in so many ways.  A very vivid, albeit unpleasant memory, was shortly after my first radiation treatment.  I got home from the hospital drained, tried to drink a cool beverage, and it wouldn't stay down.  It was Dad who knelt down and cleaned up--and we all remember that he didn't move around so well to easily be able to do that. 

Once Dad was diagnosed, it felt like we were both part of this brotherhood, (which, as a survivor, you almost always feel with others who have traveled or are traveling that path).  And although I wasn't able to be around all of the time due to school, I'm thankful to have had some of that Summer of '91 with him.  And of course, I'll never forget that day he died.  Annie, you and I were at Janelle Bickers' house when we got the call.  Dad had already been at home under Hospice care for a short time prior.  It was a tear-filled drive home from Arlington Heights.  We got home and saw him in the bed, his headrest propped up and his mouth agape.  It was apparently late enough that we couldn't do anything with his body that night.  But the most remarkable thing was the next morning, seeing that Dad's mouth had partially closed into a clear smile--and you knew all was well with him!  And I think this was definitely how it was meant to be!

Anyway, again, Annie, thanks for sparking those memories.  I don't believe I'd ever really sat down and contemplated both experiences combined like this.  Somewhere in there, there's a story to be written--perhaps several; but I'm thinking specifically about the calls notifying me about the deaths...dramatically different, one from the other, but indicative of both the contexts and the relationships.

And thanks also for the Hoppy Makes Happy blog; and Jon, for your journal entries; and Dan, we too are filled with anticipation for once again seeing you & yours this summer!

Thanks everybody.  Love from all of us here in Lombard!

Peace...  Emmanuel!!!

P.S.-Jon, Andrea and I will see you tomorrow.  Go Packers! (or really, NFC North!)

Josh