For Betty Lou

My father’s mother passed away Saturday afternoon. Though she’d had a stroke earlier this year, and was in a nursing home because of that. And she had broken her hip recently and had surgery for that. Still, it was a little sudden. The reports she was not well were apparently understated. From what I understand now she had not been eating nor very talkative, and had some sort of an episode earlier this week, possibly another stroke and was just made comfortable as per her wishes. My Dad was up in Ohio Thursday and Friday and he said she was aware but not able to respond. We will never know, but I think when she lost her mobility and her freedom, she gave up. She liked being in her little apartment, though I have no idea what she did there all day besides smoke cigarettes, listen to the radio and watch TV, and she liked being able to walk down the couple blocks to the store. She always was an independent soul. And she looked good when I saw her last year.

I started drinking coffee in the morning with Betty Lou when I was about 6 or 7 because that’s what she did in the morning. I’d have coffee with sugar and milk and an ice cube to cool it down a little. And it apparently did not stunt my growth. Being at Grandma Galupi’s was a separate adventure than being at my Mom’s parents [the Sheets’, for the record]. Grandma lived in the city… well, in the community anyway. My cousins and I would play ball with the kids in the neighborhood at the playground. I used to love going down over the hill to PJ’s Newsstand for her cigarettes [Benson and Hedges 100s at the time] because I’d stand down there and flip through the comic book racks and baseball card packs… she would tell us kids to go play when she watched the soaps [‘her stories’]… once I remember riding the bus from Ambridge into Pittsburgh and going through downtown, especially the Horne’s department store downtown, and having lunch at a lunch counter.

When she moved out Ohio, near my aunt Beverly, there were no kids to hang out with, no playground, but we spent a week out there watching early HBO, drinking powdered Nestea and eating home made pizza; we found pre-made crust and pizza quick sauce and got some cheese and pepperoni and it was wonderful! Because I wasn’t around a lot, when she’d get mad at me she’d go through my other two cousins who were usually there before getting to me, and they said she’d do the same to them. I was JayKarlCharles… but that was okay.

When I was up a couple of years ago I had picked her up at her apartment and she asked me to stop at the store for some things as I was taking her back. She picked up a few things and was introducing me [showing me off] to all the help there, the cashier girls and the manager on duty… she’d introduce me as her ‘Grandson up from Texas.’ I’m glad she was in a little place where they knew her [20 years in a small Ohio town will do that] and they’d keep an eye on her. I know she liked just walking down there, keeping her feet moving some days.

I’d asked her about some family history when I was there last, about my grandfather, who I had never known; he died from Hodgekin's Disease when my Dad was a boy, and I am glad I did. She told me about taking the bus into Pittsburgh to see him at the VA hospital and a cabbie who told her the ropes about getting around and keeping people honest. It’s nice to know she had some angels in her life, because she’d had some bad things happen to her.

Still, I think she’d say she lived a good long life. Now she’s at peace. God rest her soul.

Once there was a way to get back homeward… said the voice on the radio.

I smiled at the thought and wondered “where is home?’

I was born in New Brighton PA. I still have relative in the area and often when I have vacation plans to see them I still find myself saying I am going ‘home,’ even though I have not lived in the area since I was a small child.

Thinking about the area, the words to Springsteen’s song about hometowns come to mind especially when I think about my Dad’s hometown, Aliquippa. [I still picture the area in black and white like Leave It to Beaver when I think about my parents being kids, though I know they had color.] By the time I can remember the area, the mills had begun closing and the town was beginning to die. To me it plays like a series of photos taken annually due to infrequent visiting, but one can fill in the blanks. One notices the fringes first, the small Mom and Pop shops empty, ‘Going Out of Business signs’ still in the windows, some of the bars changing names… people hanging out in the middle of the day when they’d otherwise be working… fewer new cars, more dull and rusting cars going by when they go by… the streets dull from dust and lack of use, in need of a good street sweeper… finally the GC Murphy’s and Woolworths and Rexall are closed and downtown becomes a ghost town, barren, quiet… all the activity moved to the fringes where the neighborhood strip mall and box stores off the freeway have taken over…

We lived in Charleston WV for a few years, bit Charleston is one of those stops on a lot of people’s career, much like Wichita KS. I remember a lot of the kids I was in school with had Dads in the chemical industry, Union Carbide and DuPont being in the area. WE were there because my Dad’s boss bought a franchise and built the first McDonald’s [at Capital and Quarrier] in 1974/75.

But through events over the head of a nine year old, we would up in Texas in 1977 and I have lived here ever since. I am not sure why Texas other than my Dad had a brother here. I have lived here almost 30 years now and it is ‘home’ unless I am talking about a trip to PA. But even here in Texas I have ‘home,’ my apartment and ‘home,’ my mother’s house where I lived for 17 years. One supposes it depend where I am staying for the weekend; when I was at the class reunion and stayed out there, that’s where we went when I said home….

For Grandpap

My Grandfather will be 86 on Friday. My niece just did a paper on her hero for a school project and I was just thinking about real heroes, not the baseball players or whoever we admired as kids, but the real people who had an impact on our lives and were true role models. And Grandpap Sheets is one of those people.

He’s never lived nor had any desire to live beyond the borders of Beaver Country in southwestern Pennsylvania [or ‘Pennsyltucky’ as he used to say] other than when he was over in France and Germany in WWII. I asked him the nicest place he’d seen in traveling the US after he retired, but he said he loved Beaver County. I guess it puts into perspective that some people just feel so at ease with where they’re from they never leave.

He’s a retired carpenter and one of the stories I’ve heard a zillion times is when he retired and came home with his tool chest. I guess I would have been about five or six and I helped him take the box into the shop, me at one end, he at the other and I just quipped “Now this is what I call cooperation!”

He built his own house on the hill there in Beaver County, getting a lot from my Grandmother’s Dad, Joe Vorderbrueggen in 1947 [he also acquired two more lots over the years before Grandpap died in 1976], living in the basement for about two years while the upstairs was constructed with a wife and 5 small children. They added on in the early 60s and still had 8 kids [‘seven in school at one time,’ he reminded me] sharing one bathtub, though they added a half bath in the addition. They still get water from a well and it is the sweetest tasting water in the world and makes excellent iced tea.

I think part of my love of music comes from him. I know my grandfather was a guitar player. During the war, he and some guys from his company would go around to other units in the area and play country music. [Remember, this was when there was “both kinds, country and Western.”] They were loosely known as the Ozark Mountaineers, Ozark being their company. I just asked for the clarification, as I thought he played in a band in the States, but he said, “No, other than some guys that used to come around once in a while.” [I called him a “Hootenanny Hippie” for this]. He used to play for me, up to about 1995 or so before his hands shook so much. Somewhere around 1999 or 2000 my cousin’s Melissa’s fiancée Milo was up and he had learned a couple of the songs played them for Grandpap and he said it “nearly brought the old man to tears, not being able to play anymore.” I know he always liked music and was always humming or whistling something and there was usually a radio on in the shop or when we’d drive into town. He was also a big Hee Haw fan, and there was no better way to clear a room of a bunch of little kids in 1974 than to turn on Hee Haw. Now I kind of wish I had paid more attention to the Hee Haw, but oh well. I know he was a fan of Johnny Cash and I know there are some albums somewhere in the house, but I’ve never gone looking for them. A few years back he was tickled when I sent him a tape of an album of Johnny’s called Ragged Old Flag that was one he’s asked about when I was working at Forever Young. He also always liked the funnier songs of Ray Stevens, Tom T. Hall, Jerry Reed and Louden Wainwright’s Dead Skunk.

He was always quick with a joke or a stunt like betting me a dollar he could jump higher than a fence post [Warning: fence posts do not jump]. He was always interested in how things worked and building things. I have several little knick-knacks like a sling shot he whittled for me and a little ‘road runner’ made out of scrap metal and a box for holding playing cards he made for me ‘on spec.’ I have the rolling pin he gave to all my cousins as wedding presents because I think he’s given up waiting for me to [or more accurately fears he’ll be gone when I do] get married. He also never lets me forget about getting the wrong oil filter and pouring 4.5 quarts of Penzoil out on the grass because I wouldn’t listen to him. He’s impressed pride in my work on me. Once at Sound Warehouse I was building crates for display and I’d just keep telling myself to ‘Do it like the old man would have.’

The only time I recall him being upset was when I ran over one of his trees while mowing the field down in front of the house. OOPS! I had been trying to see how close I could get to them and got a little too close to one. OOOPS! I was banned from the tractor for a while for that one. As kids we all loved riding on or driving the little Cub Cadet tractor. I know I spent hours on it pretending it was some WWII airplane I was flying or an X Wing fighter of the Millennium Falcon after Star Wars came out. I can still recall mornings in the kitchen of the house he built, you’d come in and kiss a face full of stubble, or if you can sneak up on him, kiss his bald head, which is a lot easier now that I am 6’2”.

I know he is proud of the fact they he and my Grandma Rose were able to raise 8 kids through sometimes trying times. Once, he says they had dinner and there was one pork chop left and he reached for it and got eight forks in the back of his hand. But the Sheets clan is pretty tight and there isn’t any infighting or name calling [that I am aware of]. Grandma and Grandpap have been married for 63 years and there is a special place in heaven for her that. As he’s gotten older he’s a little shorter on patience than he used to be. His hand shakes more trying to raise a cup of coffee and he’s a lot slower than he used to be, but steadfastly yearning to be independent even though his body is telling him that he cannot be.

But I talked to him today and I know there is a peace there that he’s lived a wonderful life with few, if any regrets. I asked if there was anything that he has wanted to try but never had and he answered ‘no,’ even though I know he’s never tried pizza. I know I have learned in the last 10 years or so to appreciate that time I have with my grandparents and to take the time and ask the questions now that someday I will not be able to get answers to.

Happy Birthday and love Grandpap!

Music Recommendation: Chris Whitley - Soft Dangerous Shores

In Nate's basement this weekend, he played me a couple of cuts from this and I bought it Weds [next Music Trivia Weds at CD Whse in Hurst, Nov 30th] and I am just knocked out by it.

It's kind of hard to describe, Chris' dobro and earthy vocals mixed in lots of rythym tracks and spacey sounds. The person that leaps to mind is something like Dan Lanois' For the Beauty of Winona meets U2's Achtung Baby/Zooropa.

If you're just loking for something unlike anything you've heard before, you have to check this out. Buy it for yourself for Christmas.

Chris Whitley 1960 - 2005

Chris passed Nov 20th of lung cancer...

Words from Trixie Whitley:

My father took his last breath last night the 20th of November. I would like to make it clear that the people he needed and loved the most were with him while and when he left in peace. Those were Dan, Susann, my beloved mother Helene and me.

I would also like to ask you guys to understand there is a very fine line between Chris Whitley the legendary musician and Chris Whitley the Father, Brother, and Lover.

This was my Dad's favorite line from the first song I ever wrote, this is for you Daddy:

"Like the feather we blow away, in the thoughtlessness of words others say."

All faith and peace,
Trixie Whitley

Words from Dan Whitley:

I just wanted to add Chris passed over surrounded by lots of love. The time we spent with Chris in these last days were something I'll never forget and these women whom I shared Chris's last moments with were just amazing.

Susann Buerger who was by his side nonstop (Chris planned to marry Susann) held him in his arms the moment he passed in absolute and total peace, the reason I mentioned this is I always felt being held by someone you love while you passed over was a truly special thing.
Trixie my niece is one of the strongest young woman I have ever met and Chris was always so proud of her whenever we spoke, Im also incredibly proud to be her uncle and love her beyond words.

I hope you all will mourn my brothers death but more important celebrate his life as Chris was all about life and living... I started the celebration by cranking up Dirt floor in his honor...crying still.

Chris Whitley's Legacy will no doubt transcend all time.

Love and Light,
Daniel

Say a prayer for a gifted soul tonight....

I don't know if anyone is interested in POLITICS anymore, but I have been keeping an eye on The West Wing repeats on Bravo... Most interesting one this evening called 'Isaac and Ishmial' about terrorism and they put out a few interesting observations:

1. 'That Islamic Extremists are to Islam what the KKK is to Christianity.'

2. 'Terrorism has never worked; it has never achieved its aims. It has a 100% failure rate.'

3. 'Why do they want to kill us? Becuase we have pluralism. We can entertain more than one train of thought.'

Keep an eye out for this one to pop up again, if your service offers an information button like Comcast does. And if you just want to watch Bravo, they're pushing their next season of Designing whatever and you can see Heidi Klum in a skirt that goes all the way up to her panties, if she's wearing any...

You think this is easy? or It's not easy being green...

aside from wondering why people put butter and/or syrup and/or powered sugar or whatever on their waffles or french toast or pancakes... is it something learned? my mother like Karo corn syrup and powdered sugar on pancakes and i like maple... why the difference? why am i the bookworm and my dad the jogger and my sister the strong steady ... 'why? why? WHY?' day.

i got a terse reply to an email which just set me off again, contemplating my understanding of myself and my tendancies and a stubborn unwillingness to change [or attempt to take that edge off or level that up & down wave by the chemical means SO MANY seem to readily embrace] ...

some people can't take the abrasiveness i put off. that's MY defense. and it works well. i am just as scared and bored and excitable and nervous [and even sometimes as happy and relaxed] as everyone else. and being no good at small chit-chat, i clam up, especially around people i don't know, which makes what is torture to me even MORE agonizing. at my own class reunion i just strung along behind marty and just chirped in occasionally. that's probably the real reason i didn't want to go: i don't have anything to say, which is hellacious as someone trying to masquerade as a writer like i do. but behind my uneasy smile, i am taking it ALL in and will be able to remind you of it years later, which is why i don't cotton, nor repeat myself, to those who cannot remember what i have told them.

everyone wants you to put off a 'nice, level, even' vibe and that's not me. i am not going to pretend to be something just to make everyone else happy. if that comes off as pig headed, narrow minded, anti-social, asshole-ish... yeah i can be all of those things. and sometimes i can be warm and down to earth and sweet as pie. but you're going to know what i am feeling.

i am looking for something the same as everyone else. not a day goes by that i don't second guess something in my life, be it big or small. some things i think 'thank godness i got away from/with that' and some things i think 'what if you had held on for five more minutes or one day or one week?'

i am deep but not very broad, the opposite of people who are a mile wide but only an inch deep. i know whatever IT is, IT has to come from inside me, and it took me a long time to learn THAT. i don't need someone to COMPLETE me, but someone to COMPLIMENT me.

does any of that make sense?

Paid Professional Solicitor?

For the last couple weeks I have been coming home to about four NON-messages a day on my machine-- you know the ones, there's about 15 seconds of silence and then the click? I know what they are, they are calls from people trying to get me to send them money. But I am not donating to ANY causes right now. But Sometimes I will get in a mood and I will actually pick up the phone and say hello. Because it might be someone I want to talk to. Like ED. ED called last night and it's always great to talk to Ed and try and get him to come into the city, which he never does... not to see me anyway.

So I am answering the phone last night and I get TWO calls from Cancer groups [it may have been the same group, I wasn't quick enough to catch the name twice] and one guy is some loud Cajun dude who was very nice, but I explained I was not making any donations at this time; the second guy is a pushier person who tried to get me on three different donation levels and I politely again explained I was not making any donations at this time, but he kept trying. [I am always as nice as I can be because I deal with people on the phone all day... It's better to be 'No, thank you' than 'F-OFF! They're people just trying to make a buck like you and me.] But the phrase that DID catch my ear twice was 'Paid Professional Solicitor.'

Now I have a PRETTY good idea that this means 'we're subcontracted by the organization to call you and ask for donations.' But I am curious if this ALSO means 'I get a bonus based on how many donations I get and/or the amount of dollars pledged.'

I am sure this is not a new thing. I know there are people manning phone banks all over the globe making these calls. [I love the ones from foreign countries calling and asking about my travel plans... 'Do you plan to take a vacation? Soonly?' But ID-ing oneself as a Paid Professional IS new. Is there some new law that these people HAVE to declare that they are PPS?

I posted a few weeks ago about a new glut of snail mail requests for donations [and GIFTS of return address labels which I use with NO GUILT because I NEVER ASKED FOR THEM, THEY JUST SENT THEM.]. I read somewhere that credit card companies [who are the second biggest mailers] get response on about 2% of their mail outs. Know what I like to do? Send their pre-paid envelopes back empty because they STILL have to pay the postage on them!!!

Just ranting a little. Damn it's hot! Isn't this supposed to be like FALL or something? Sweatshirts and hot cocoa and wood burning fireplace weather?