words of remembrance

Christmas was always Mom's holiday. I'm not sure what the holidays in Maryland will hold this year; but I know there will be a void and heavy hearts for all of us. The key is to cherish the memories and the good times (whilst sipping some Bailey's on the rocks.)

Having said that, I finally feel ready to share the words of remembrance from August...

Well, first everyone had a role in the past two years. Dad took care of the logistics and took mom to her bi-weekly appointments. Chris took Mom to CT scans and translated the medical-ease for those less savvy such as Dad and myself.  And then there’s me, who took it upon herself to be comic relief by default.  So if I make a fool of myself up here, it’s par for the course.

Case in point…at Mom’s CT scan in April, the director of oncology at Johns Hopkins said “Kids, your mom is one tough cookie”  and I immediately responded “That’s because she’s German.” Laughter briefly ensues. Not that Germans are strong-willed or stubborn at all. But while Mom and I were never truly at odds, we sometimes had a difference in opinion on the ways in which to do things (again, not German related or the previously mentioned fact I take after my dad’s side of the family). The most recent example came last Sunday, when our difference in cleaning styles – or my lack thereof – came to light. I was helping to vacuum, and mom informed me when I missed a spot (more than once, mind you). Part of me was incredulous that this was happening, but mostly I was smiling because that was Mom. I just hope she is not looking at my apartment right now…

I started really bonding with Mom went I went away to Marquette for college (absence makes the heart grow fonder right?).  Maybe it was the weekly phone calls; maybe it was that I started to think of mom as more than a mom, but a friend. We talked about everything from relationships to sports. Actually, a lot about sports, mostly football and NCAA basketball. Of course, I couldn’t have the Vikings as my 2^nd team, so I chose the rival Bears – also Dad’s team. But the NCAA tourney was our bread and butter – Mom groomed me as a bracketologist from the tender age of ten. And every year, we’d discuss our picks in depth after the selection show. I think my bracket only beat hers five times, but under her tutelage, I’ve been quite fortuitous in other pools. Those weekly phone calls continued until three weeks ago – her very last phone call to me was to wish me a happy birthday. 

Our bond really grew stronger during our three trips together (Baltic cruise 2006, Greece 2008, Spain 2010). And it is true that you don’t really get to know someone until you travel with them, or if you prep for travel with them. I did mention differences right? Mom started packing two weeks before each trip; I packed the night before each trip. Mom could not stand that, yet I was the one who never forgot anything. Mom couldn’t sleep on the plane; I fell asleep in the States and woke up in Europe. Some of my fondest (and funniest) memories of Mom happened on these excursions. During the Baltic cruise, I introduced Mom to karaoke for the first time. After every performance, she retorted “I used to like that song”. We also enjoyed Baileys on the balcony (which Mom smuggled on the ship). In Greece, whilst admiring the beauty of the Aegean Sea, Mom accidently dropped her digital camera into it. In Costa del Sol, Mom and I shared cheese and wine on the balcony – which was probably the best conversation I ever had with Mom. In Madrid, whilst dining with a bullfight on the tele in the background, Mom loudly was cheering for the bull. Thankfully, the people in the restaurant did not speak English. 

All kidding aside, Mom and I shared a love of photography, history and travel…so these excursions were a perfect combination. Although our styles were definitely different.  Mom was determined to get the exact name of every building, historical site, ruin, etc.; I also did to an extent, but also took picture of random people, dogs, alleys, etc. to get a feel of the culture. Mom undeniably looked like a tourist from the States; I passed for British…in fact, there were times where folks in our tour group in Spain asked if we were really related at first.  Then they started talking to us and realized that yes, yes we are related…because of our smiles and positive outlook on life.

I thought about that observation…and soon realized that the first things people notice about me are my positive attitude and smile (and yes, Dad I know you paid for my smile) – traits I definitely inherited from Mom. While Mom was slightly more subdued than I, one could tell that she could find the good in most things and enjoy life to the fullest. There was always some fiber of her being that believed that she would overcome this hurdle – as I (and everyone else) were also hoping and praying for the very same outcome. Even the last time I saw Mom, when she smiled she could still light up a room. 

However, it was that positive attitude (and stubbornness, hmm…strength) that helped Mom defy the odds. Mom fought this disease with more grace, courage, determination and positivity anyone could have imagined; in the future, I can only hope to face any adversity the same as she did.

Mom, you will never be forgotten and will always be in my heart – and I couldn’t have asked for a better mother. I love you…

i interrupt your christmas cheer...

The holidays are usually "a time for joy, a time for cheer" - but the recent events in Connecticut have put a somber curtain on the season and have many of us (further) questioning our own mortality.

A good friend and I have discussed this issue more often than I wish to admit, largely because both of our mothers are battling the same disease.  While it's a comfort to know that someone is going through the same wave of emotions, at the same time you wish this wasn't one of the bonds you were sharing. Then last night, his 31-year cousin unexpectedly passed away leaving behind two young children.

Death - even if it is inevitable - is sad and difficult. Period. Perhaps more so when it's unexpected. My friend and I discussed that notion last night. To reminiscence, I was very saddened by the passing of my granddad and both my grandmothers. However, I had mentally/emotionally come to terms with my grandmothers as their health was failing for quite some time. With my granddad, it was a shock - and while he was no more or less important - it weighed heavier on my heart because it hit like a ton of bricks.  But regardless of how many brushes with death one may have had, it still isn't easy.

I know both of us are ready (or as ready as one can be) for the passing of our mothers. However, no matter how prepared I may be, it still will be difficult as one of the most important people in my life will no longer be of this earth - but I know a part of her will always remain with me.

So this Christmas season, remember the good times and make new memories. Cherish times with family and friends.

You may now return to your Christmas cheer....and I'll join you.

alfie, the christmas tree

the holiday season is the one time of year I turn into a pseudo-sap and can get somewhat emotional. Christmas was - and still is - my favorite holiday. and while this Christmas may be bittersweet for obvious reasons, I'm fortunate enough to have Christmas memories and traditions to last my lifetime.

one of these traditions is the almost constant playing of John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together CD. I'm really not sure how it came about, but to me Christmas isn't complete without it.  my favorite song on the CD has always been Alfie, The Christmas Tree (and much to the chagrin of everyone, I can still recite the whole song). 

to me, it simply yet eloquently states the "reason for the season"....




Did you ever hear the story of the Christmas Tree
who just didn't want to change the show?
He liked living in the woods and playing with squirrels, he liked icicles and snow.

He liked wolves and eagles and grizzly bears
and critters and creatures that crawled.
Why bugs were some of his very best friends, spiders and ants and all.

Now that's not to say that he ever looked down on the vision of twinkling lights,
or on mirrored bubbles and peppermint canes and a thousand other delights.
And he often had dreams of tiny reindeer
and a jolly old man and a sleigh full of toys and presents and wonderful things,
and the story of Christmas Day.

Oh, Alfie believed in Christmas all right, he was full of Christmas cheer.
All of each and every day and all throughout the year.
To him it was more than a special time much more than a special day,
It was more than a beautiful story. it was a special kind of way.

You see, some folks have never heard a jingle bell ring,
And they've never heard of Santa Claus.
They've never heard the story of the Son of God. And that made Alfie pause.

Did that mean that they'd never know of peace on earth
or the brotherhood of man?
Or know how to love, or know how to give? If they can't, no one can.

You see, life is a very special kind of thing, not just for a chosen few.
But for each and every living breathing thing. Not just me and you.

So in your Christmas prayers this year, Alfie asked me if I'd ask you
to say a prayer for the wind, and the water, and the wood
and those who live there, too.

"celebrating" one year...

mom & i in greece, 2008

It was a year and 11 days ago Sunday (19 August) that Mom found out her diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.  I found out a day later.  I don't think any of us knew what to expect, and to some degree, we still don't.

I went home for a week in mid-August to spend time with family which was much needed. I was mentally and emotionally prepared to see Mom without her wig, and it only freaked me out because she looked exactly like her mother (genetics, I tell ya). However, with the wig, you'd never know anything was wrong with her.  Fortunately, the chemo does not hinder her from doing daily activities or excursions (such as an Orioles game until 1 am) - but she does tire easily.  Again,if this is one of the only side effects, it's a win in my book.

I also had the opportunity to take her to her chemo appointment at Johns Hopkins during my visit. It was something I knew I had to do, and something I wanted to do - even with my dislike of hospitals (probably because I've been in too many of them). The appointment takes a full day; I really thought Dad was kidding about that.  However, after meeting Shawna (Mom's nurse) and other staff, I'm assured that she is in excellent hands.  Since I had plenty of time to sit and wait, I realized how well-off Mom is compared to other patients. Mom went up to register herself, didn't have a walker and doesn't have to wear a surgical mask (the germ factor). I was also shocked to see how young (and worse-off than Mom) some of the patients where - I'm sure about 33% where younger than me.  I came away appreciating my own health and in the grand scheme, allergies and crappy knees really aren't that big of a deal.

This has also been a learning experience.  I - along with my family - have researched pancreatic cancer extensively.  I won't talk about the statistics, as they are not uplifting by any means. Sadly, I've had three friends lose a parent to this disease; and Mom has survived longer than any of them.  The only good thing (if any) about that is that I have support from friends who know EXACTLY what is going on. But knowing is half the battle (thank you GI Joe) - the other is imparting that knowledge. I educate anyone who will listen - whether they want to hear about it or not.  The more who know, the more we can continue the fight.

Finally, this journey has made me fully aware of the power of the human psyche.  Attitude and the mind from which it springs is the biggest, baddest, and best weapon we have against this bitch of a disease. It's all about perspective - being angry or upset isn't going to help anyone at this point. Hope and strength will.

I have always said (and likely always will say) that I can only hope to handle whatever life throws at me with half the grace, courage and positivity Mom has exhibited in the past year. She truly is an inspiration to us all. 

for more information or to donate, check out the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network

orioles baseball, i missed you

I remember going to my first baseball game with my granddad, dad and brother when I was a couple months shy of seven years old. (note: I had the choice of the baseball game or my aunt's bridal shower.  Years later, given the same choice, I'd still pick the game). 

And that's how I got hooked on baseball.

Back then, my beloved Orioles played at Memorial Stadium - a great park but in a shitty area of "Balmer". Getting there was always an experience (I liken it to N. 27th St. & W. Fond du Lac in Milwaukee). We'd always go to at least couple games a year, and since my grandparents lived across the street from the play-by-play announcer, we'd always get some swag. In fact, I still have my stuffed Oriole bird. 

The Orioles moved to Oriole Park at Camden Yards (aka "Birdland") in 1991, and since I've lived out of state most of that time, I haven't been there often. Earlier this month, I finally got to return Camden Yards after a ten-year hiatus and finally saw a game...after a three-hour rain delay.

What else do you do at a ballpark waiting for the rain to subside? Talk Oriole baseball, and those memories came flooding back (pun intended).  Rick Dempsey using the tarp as a slip-n-slide during rain delays.  Earl "of Baltimore" Weaver throwing second base whilst in a argument with the umpire. Celebrity crushing on Jim Palmer (even to this day). Chants of "Eddie! Eddie!" whenever Eddie Murray came to bat. Anything involving Cal Ripken, Jr.

By coincidence, it was a "Legends" night. Eddie Murray's statue was unveiled at the ballpark, and each aforementioned Oriole was in attendance.  And for the first time in over a decade, chants of "Eddie! Eddie!" rang through Camden Yards.

And even if for a few moments, I was a kid at the ballpark in awe of America's pastime. 

what to do?

Well, it's been about six months since the break-up.  I'd like to say things have gotten easier, but in all honesty, they haven't. Sure, there have been some successes (and some setbacks), but I feel that things are pretty much back where they started.

This is foreign territory to me, as I've been able to maintain friendships with most of my exes.  This is something I actually pride myself on, and a couple of them remain some of my best friends.  Yes, it took time and effort; however, in the end it was well worth it.

I'm reminded of something said to me during the break-up:  "We'll still be friends and hang out.  And if there's an informal lab gathering, I can let you know about it."

I can say with 100% confidence that the only informal lab gathering I've been extended the invite to was a "successfully defended her dissertation" soiree - and that's because the guest of honor invited me.  Since December, I haven't been invited to anything outside of playing volleyball.  I didn't expect things to stay exactly the same, but I didn't expect to be completely shut out either.  It kinda sucks - no, it really sucks.

Despite the events (or lack of) that have occurred, I can't fault anyone for saying that.  When one is in an emotional situation, things are said to smooth said situation over.  But based upon my past track record, there was no reason for me not to believe it.  I'm not upset with what was said; I'm upset at myself for whole-heartedly believing it.

To say this situation isn't par for the course would be an understatement.   I was also told around Thanksgiving:   "I still want to be friends, but I'm not sure how to make that transition easier."  And to be honest, I don't know either.  

I feel like every time I extend the proverbial olive branch, it's either ignored or broken and handed back to me.  I also don't know how to initiate a conversation about this without it being perceived as hostile or confrontational (although that is not my intent).  I am literally at a loss about what to do.

And yet I keep trying...

from home to home and back...

this past holiday week, I made the 12.5 hour (25 hours round trip) trek from Milwaukee to Potomac and back.  that's quite a lot of time in a vehicle alone, and thus my mind decided to wander.  below are some observations from the road and my visit, complete with the quirky randomness I so enjoy...

• the Chicago skyline is awesome regardless of the time of day (or night)
• Gary, Indiana is still a stinkhole
• "Killing an Arab" by the Cure will likely never be heard on US radio (or radio in general) again, but it will on my iPod 
• the "mountains" of Pennsylvania seemed way more daunting when I was six.  I'm sure they're not "mountains" in the true sense
• even though i can make the dish myself, Mom's mac-n-cheese tastes way better when she makes it
• one can never listen to the John Denver & the Muppets Christmas CD enough 
• my nephews are still freakin' cute

• Gavin is my brother's mini-me.  Liam, on the other hand, has channeled is auntie as a two (and three) year old.  I've already apologized for this
• a four year old boy and truly move at the speed of light to avoid "Santa"
• "Santa" was cool as a kid because he brought toys.  he's even cooler as an adult because now he brings bottles of rum
• watching "A Christmas Story" with Mom (while drinking Bailey's) every year never gets old
• screw a white Christmas.  I'll take a 50 degree green Christmas anyday...
• my aunt called me "cutie".  maybe one day it will resonate (I still maintain that tall, linebacker-built people like myself cannot be "cute")
• within a period of two years, I have become taller than my uncle
• compliments are great, especially when they come from unlikely sources
• there is such a thing as "bad" stuffing and "too sweet" sweet potatoes
• the Loss clan is apparently overwhelming even if you're dealt with them for 45 years
• my brother is way more like our dad than he'd care to admit
• in a room full of trains designed to mesmerize children and enthusiasts alike, I find the Cerberus (three-headed dog) train and a sign that reads "No Humping"
• my legs are freakishly short for my height
• Jim Vance is the shit.  I'd have a beer with him
• Mom and I don't like shopping, but we sure love Target 
• despite not living in the area, I still drive like a native Washingtonian and have a pronounced Maryland "o"
• it's still weird for me to see Ravens jerseys all across Maryland.  growing up it was still Redskins country
• Tilted Kilt is better than Hooters.  yes I wrote that
• the only way I'd be able to fit into a Tilted Kilt "uniform" is if I didn't eat for five months.  that's not gonna happen
• my dad asked me how much air I liked in my tires (prior to getting it checked before my return trip).  I almost responded "I like my tires like my men...hard".  parental filter success
• it is possible for a cute, little Scottie to be incredibly annoying.  ask Caye
• Maryland crab cakes are the shit
• it's ok for Rutgers to upset #10 Kansas, but NOT ok for Vandy to upset #13 Marquette in the same evening
• watching Marquette games with Mom rarely turns out favorably
• Mom sent me home with over three dozen cookies.  if she only knew...
• my iPod has a thing for Erasure
• Bryan Adams is still great driving music.  so is Chicago...this chick digs Cetera
• stupid drivers are bred everywhere...slower traffic keep right and pass on the left...fucktards
• it is still necessary to "salute" any billboard promoting Indiana University.  especially if it involves men's basketball (here's why)
• the College Football Hall of Fame is in South Bend...who knew?
• if Newark, New Jersey is the armpit of the USA, then Gary, Indiana is the bunghole
• Chicago rush hour sucks.  Tastykakes made it a little better
• it is possible for a dog to stay awake the duration of a road trip 
• I am incredibly lucky to have fabulous friends and family in my life
• Mom is a truly amazing woman.  I could only hope to handle myself with such positivity, poise and grace as she has
• I am unfortunate enough to have two places I can call home

a 9.11 perspective

9/11 is to us as to what JFK's assasination is to our parents.  As our parents can immediately answer the question - "Where were you when JFK was shot?", we can do the same for "Where were you when the Towers were hit?".  

I remember the day vividly.  It was a gorgeous, sunny day, highs in the 70s with a slight breeze. - a day perfect for playing hookie.  But alas, I had to attend a training at Children's Service Society of Wisconsin (this was back in my non-profit/social service days).  Before I left my office, I already knew about the first tower being hit, but chalked it up to a mechanical malfunction.  The reality of a terrorist attack on US soil was far-fetched at 8:00 am CDT on 11 September 2001.  During the drive over the second tower was hit but I was listening to a CD - probably one of the few oblivious Americans at this point.  I walked into CSSW and then I found out about the Pentagon.  I recall the receptionist asking, "Are you ok, because you just turned white."  I responded with, "My parents live just outside DC" whilst thinking "Holy shit my mom works at Navy."  

Upon recovering from the shock, I was actually pissed.  How dare anyone attack the city of my birth and the metro area where my family lives?  What the hell did we do to deserve this?  After my minute internal tirade, I tried to call my parents via cell - to be greeted by the Gene Mueller (the radio newsguy) telling me that all cell service was shut off into DC as it might trigger another attack.  I proceeded back to work, still somewhat dazed.  

Then I read an e-mail from my mom:  "Both towers were hit.  The Pentagon was hit.  We are running on generators.  They are evacuating all non-essential personnel.  We're shaken, but I'm ok." 

This began my six-hour attempt to reach my parents via land line.  Finally, at 3:30 CDT, I got a hold of my mom.  Still shaken, but still ok. 

On that day, the reality of feeling safe on our home soil had been shattered. And the public wondered if we would ever be safe again.

Yes, the TSA has stepped up airline passenger protocol in an effort to ease our minds.  While I think we probably should have been showing an ID to fly in the first place, not being able to bring a larger than 3 oz bottle of contact lens solution is a little drastic.  I understand the theory and what the TSA is trying to do, but let's face it.  If a terrorist really wants to smuggle an explosive or weapon on an airplane, they will find a way to do it - it just won't be as easy.

Yet in global comparison, America was and still is a safe country.  Car bombs don't go off.  There isn't violent unrest between neighboring nations.  Our water and food supply is generally parasite free.  We don't face the penalty of death for having different beliefs.  In the grand scheme, we are a fortunate nation. 

Ten years later, we continue to honor all those who perished in the attacks - from the first responders at what is now Ground Zero to the passengers on Flight 93 to the victims of circumstance at the Pentagon.  In a sense, it could referred to another "day that will live in infamy".  And while I don't think we should forget the events of that day, the media (as it sometimes has a tendency to do) went a little overboard.  I don't think that makes me any less of a citizen of this country for thinking that.  

However, it has been said (numerous times on Sunday and leading up to that day), that 9.11 brought a sense of patriotism and unity to the country.  I'd like to believe so but sadly,  I don't think it has.  Sure "God Bless America" is now sung at sporting events all around the country.  Singing this anthem doesn't make one automatically patriotic as sitting in a garage doesn't automatically make you a car.  There are still people out there who believe all Muslims are responsible for the events of that day, even though the reality is it was a group of radical extremists using religion to further their propaganda, as sick and hateful as it may be.  The same goes for Christian extremist who claim to act in the name of God.  That doesn't sound like unity to me.  

Once we are able to accept differences in others (i.e. race, creed, accent, religious beliefs, cultures, sexual orientation) and learn from these differences, only then will we even be able to begin on the path to a true United States of America. 

that little hardware store

Birthdays tend to make one nostalgic...and apparently I am no exception. 

As I walked by the True Value on Downer Avenue Sunday afternoon, I was reminded how similar it was to Poch's Hardware in the Village (Potomac, MD).  Like the True Value, Poch's was nestled between a grocery store, restaurant and specialty shops.

Poch's was your quintessential neighborhood store.  I remember going to Poch's with my dad back in the day (prior to the big-box home store explosion) if he needed potting soil, nuts & bolts, lumber, etc.  Mr. Poch was behind the counter and he always had time to chat with the customers (and give a lollipop to the kids - it was a time this behavior was not considered "creepy").   I'm sure this "Village friendliness" has affected me - today I seem to small talk with cashiers at the store. 

In my high school years, I worked at a Hallmark store (which I blame for my like of funky pens) - one of those shops nestled in the Village, like Poch's.  And more than once, my dad would call and ask me to pick up something at Poch's, "because I was right there".  I should probably thank them for teaching me about drill bits, saw blades and other assorted tools. 

Sadly, Poch's closed near the turn of the century.  The Village reinvented itself and began catering to more "upscale" clientele, and I'm sure insurgence of Home Depot & Lowe's didn't help either.

However, I'll fondly remember Poch's and it's piece in my history of the Village.