I had a very dear friend call me today. He greeted me with one question. "How do you do it?" He had just found out that his father had died the night before. He was devastated. Even though his father was elderly and had "lived a long, full life" he was crushed and he didn't know what to do.
So we talked. We talked about the yearly trips that he and his dad took. We talked about his dad's wife. We got snarky about family members and lovingly gentle about friends. We talked about what he was doing to keep going and about how it feels to be so very, very numb.
We didn't cry. We didn't need to just then. It was a workshop of continuing to live when a cornerstone of your existence takes a hike to the other side. It was a workshop in dealing with family and friends and avoiding the emotional riptides. Those unseen agendas that arise and try to drag you under before you even know what they are much less why they are.
With Dan, I haven't had much of that. I certainly did with Mel's dad and with my dad. But with Dan it has been different. Bill and I are on the same page in terms of how Dan would want things handled. And that was the point. It hasn't been how Bill wanted it or how I wanted it or how Pat or Kalisha wanted it. It has been how Dan wanted it.
Dan had made his wishes known for years. We use to talk about how he wanted his affairs handled after he was gone. When you are driving in Montana in the middle of winter and there is nothing but a huge sky full of stars, miles and miles of snow, and no one else on an endless road, you tell your sister lots of things. So I knew that he was a doner. I knew that Bill would handle his financial affairs and I would handle any legal issues (Duh? Bill is the accountant and I am the lawyer...that took a rocket scientist to figure out!) I knew what he wanted for Pat and I knew what he wanted for Kalisha.
I guess today's lesson is know what you want and tell everyone around you. Tell your spouse, your kids, your siblings, everyone. Wills are perfect for this but talking to your family is the best way to avoid those ugly rip currents that can tear families apart when death comes knocking. As a lawyer, I know the value of the will. I know even better the value of true communication. It is the great healer.
Talk to each other. And write that will.
Dan
Dan Gisvold at Bear Creek
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Inga
Dan would have loved last night.
Barbara Hoff, the accompanist for Vocal Arts Ensemble, was honored at the first Performing Arts Center Honors in the instrumentalist category. In tribute to her, VAE sang Lux Aurumque and It's for Music. Barbara wrote the music for the latter. The lyricist, Dale Wolff, conducted that number.
But what Dan would have loved was the person that gave the recognition speech from VAE. It was Inga Swearingen. Dan loved her music. He loved that she was from the Central Coast and that she sang with VAE. He loved that he could hear her every once in a while on Prairie Home Companion. He would have LOVED to have met her.
I know that he would have loved meeting her because even though Inga and I had met only a few times, she made a point of talking to me. I had told her last time we met that Dan loved her music and she remembered. When I told her that Dan had passed on she was truly touched.
So I went to her You Tube site today. It's been there for awhile but I just hadn't checked it out. I don't know if Dan ever did. But I know he would have loved every second of the first song that came up for me. The country, a barn, and jazz. What more could an intellectual trucker want?
Check it outhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3CSwNPs66LA
Barbara Hoff, the accompanist for Vocal Arts Ensemble, was honored at the first Performing Arts Center Honors in the instrumentalist category. In tribute to her, VAE sang Lux Aurumque and It's for Music. Barbara wrote the music for the latter. The lyricist, Dale Wolff, conducted that number.
But what Dan would have loved was the person that gave the recognition speech from VAE. It was Inga Swearingen. Dan loved her music. He loved that she was from the Central Coast and that she sang with VAE. He loved that he could hear her every once in a while on Prairie Home Companion. He would have LOVED to have met her.
I know that he would have loved meeting her because even though Inga and I had met only a few times, she made a point of talking to me. I had told her last time we met that Dan loved her music and she remembered. When I told her that Dan had passed on she was truly touched.
So I went to her You Tube site today. It's been there for awhile but I just hadn't checked it out. I don't know if Dan ever did. But I know he would have loved every second of the first song that came up for me. The country, a barn, and jazz. What more could an intellectual trucker want?
Check it outhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3CSwNPs66LA
Friday, January 28, 2011
Saving the World
Sometimes it just hits you. Right between the eyes. Or in the gut. Or in your throat as you are trying to speak. It comes from nowhere without warning and it laughs as you struggle to act like the world is normal. While you try to keep putting one foot in front of the other or one word next to the next.
I had a case today with a young man who suffers from schizophrenia. I watched as he listened to his inner voices and as he struggled to hide his conversation from me. Then he gave up and tried to include me in the discussion with his devils. He had no way of knowing that grief was doing the same to me today.
He had no way of knowing that Dan stood in that interview room and reminded me of the times I had talked him off ledges and the times he had talked me off ledges.
That young man's mother had no way of knowing that as I sat and talked to her and her daughter about mental illness and the criminal justice system that my heart was breaking. That my mind was remembering the times that Dan helped me through bouts of depression. The words that he said to me. The words that I said to him. That on this day I said those words to this young man and his mother.
As I drove home, my heart ached as I watched semi-trucks traveling to places unknown to deliver products for each of us. I realized, again, that I could not call him and ask where he was or where he was going or what he was carrying. I could not tell him that I would be singing tomorrow or that I felt that I had gotten through to a very ill young man today. I couldn't tell him that I had a little success today. I couldn't tell him that I had save the world again.
He always told me that someday I would have to stop saving the world, one client at a time. That day was not today. He was with me today when I save someone. He was with me when I comforted a mother. He was with me. In my mind. He is the voice in my mind. But the devil Grief still lurks.
I had a case today with a young man who suffers from schizophrenia. I watched as he listened to his inner voices and as he struggled to hide his conversation from me. Then he gave up and tried to include me in the discussion with his devils. He had no way of knowing that grief was doing the same to me today.
He had no way of knowing that Dan stood in that interview room and reminded me of the times I had talked him off ledges and the times he had talked me off ledges.
That young man's mother had no way of knowing that as I sat and talked to her and her daughter about mental illness and the criminal justice system that my heart was breaking. That my mind was remembering the times that Dan helped me through bouts of depression. The words that he said to me. The words that I said to him. That on this day I said those words to this young man and his mother.
As I drove home, my heart ached as I watched semi-trucks traveling to places unknown to deliver products for each of us. I realized, again, that I could not call him and ask where he was or where he was going or what he was carrying. I could not tell him that I would be singing tomorrow or that I felt that I had gotten through to a very ill young man today. I couldn't tell him that I had a little success today. I couldn't tell him that I had save the world again.
He always told me that someday I would have to stop saving the world, one client at a time. That day was not today. He was with me today when I save someone. He was with me when I comforted a mother. He was with me. In my mind. He is the voice in my mind. But the devil Grief still lurks.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Camp Nelson
Camp Nelson. A name and a place that Bill, Dan and I have known since we were born. Our great-grandmother, Barbara Flynn (we all called her "Cese") and great grandfather, Owen Flynn (Dada) built the cabin on Federal forest land in 1923. Our mother spent every summer there all through her childhood.
Cese sold the cabin in the late 40's and our father bought it back in 1955.By that time a lean-to bedroom had been added as well as a full service bathroom. One must have a flush toilet inside and a 6' claw-footed bathtub! Until electricity came to Camp Nelson the bathwater was heated on the wood stove.
Dad added a bedroom and a bathroom that you could get to without squeezing behind the wood cook stove. And just a few years ago, Bill had a kitchen built on to the place and added 600 sq ft of deck. The mice still get in and the bedroom and bathroom aren't insulated but it is still our cabin.
Cese named it Tres Pinos for the three Ponderosa Pines that grew on the property. We use to sleep on the back deck under those pines and awaken to gray squirrels firing pine cones at us. Dan was always yelling at the squirrels.
The place was for family. We went as often as possible and when we were grown it was the meeting place for "reunions". In this picture you can see Dan in the red shirt, our niece Jill in the forefront, our father, Giz slightly to the right, our mom, Barbara behind him. Little niece Erica is right in the front and in the very back is Uncle Eddie. (Edward Reardon, married to our mother's sister)
Dan was most at home at Camp Nelson. The red dirt, the pines, the scrub oaks, the wildlife were all part of his being. He loved hiking and fishing and hanging out at the store to gab with people. It was his kind of place.
He wanted more than anything to live there. But we own a lease on federal property and living there year round is forbidden. Besides, we all owned the cabin and all the nieces and cousins have the right to share in the family history of the place. No one was ever told they couldn't stay at Tres Pinos. So living there would have been a problem.
So, after he moved back to California , Dan bought the cabin next door to Tres Pinos. He planned to fix it up and live there every year from April to October. He never got the chance.
We plan to scatter Dan's ashes there in the spring. It's what he wanted.
Cese sold the cabin in the late 40's and our father bought it back in 1955.By that time a lean-to bedroom had been added as well as a full service bathroom. One must have a flush toilet inside and a 6' claw-footed bathtub! Until electricity came to Camp Nelson the bathwater was heated on the wood stove.
Dad added a bedroom and a bathroom that you could get to without squeezing behind the wood cook stove. And just a few years ago, Bill had a kitchen built on to the place and added 600 sq ft of deck. The mice still get in and the bedroom and bathroom aren't insulated but it is still our cabin.
Cese named it Tres Pinos for the three Ponderosa Pines that grew on the property. We use to sleep on the back deck under those pines and awaken to gray squirrels firing pine cones at us. Dan was always yelling at the squirrels.
The place was for family. We went as often as possible and when we were grown it was the meeting place for "reunions". In this picture you can see Dan in the red shirt, our niece Jill in the forefront, our father, Giz slightly to the right, our mom, Barbara behind him. Little niece Erica is right in the front and in the very back is Uncle Eddie. (Edward Reardon, married to our mother's sister)
 |
| Camp Nelson @ 1980-81 |
He wanted more than anything to live there. But we own a lease on federal property and living there year round is forbidden. Besides, we all owned the cabin and all the nieces and cousins have the right to share in the family history of the place. No one was ever told they couldn't stay at Tres Pinos. So living there would have been a problem.
So, after he moved back to California , Dan bought the cabin next door to Tres Pinos. He planned to fix it up and live there every year from April to October. He never got the chance.
We plan to scatter Dan's ashes there in the spring. It's what he wanted.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Digging into the Past
The other day I went into the "secret room" , a small attic area where we keep all the boxes we haven't unpacked since the last move. And there they were......pictures. They are the things that keep you from getting anything else done that day. Reliving each and every moment that they represent. Trying to remember what year and how old you were or someone else was. After two hours, I hear Mel yelling my name trying to find me.
I was staring at a picture of Dan. Taken in December of 1972 at our parent's house in Lindsay. It was Melodie's first Christmas and who is with her on the floor? Her Uncle Dan. His connection to her was forged over that holiday. Her new toys are bigger than her and she was to chubby to sit up completely without a little help. So there is Dan. Helping.
After moving to the Central Coast Dan use to hang out with Melodie and Jed at there loft in San Luis Obispo. It was less than a block away from his trucking yard and he would wash his clothes and take a shower there when he had a quick turn around. He loved seeing them grow and change as they got older.
The other picture I spent time with was Dan and I during a hike in Coal Canyon near Hamilton, Montana. I was trying to remember what year it was and for the life of me I can not. I remember the hike, the beauty of the trail, the rocks and the trees. I remember Dan laughing about my lack of lung capacity (he called it Central Valley asthma--which narrows the time frame to before our move to the Central Coast!) I stared at this picture and realized that it really shows our relationship. Close but independent of each other.
I always knew that if I fell Dan would break his neck to get to me, to help, to save me. And I knew that he knew that I would do the same.
That is why I was the last person he talked to. What an incredible gift. Someone in my life didn't judge me. He just loved me.
I have said it before and I will say it again. I am blessed. Sometimes you have to dig around in the past to really bring the idea home.
I was staring at a picture of Dan. Taken in December of 1972 at our parent's house in Lindsay. It was Melodie's first Christmas and who is with her on the floor? Her Uncle Dan. His connection to her was forged over that holiday. Her new toys are bigger than her and she was to chubby to sit up completely without a little help. So there is Dan. Helping.
After moving to the Central Coast Dan use to hang out with Melodie and Jed at there loft in San Luis Obispo. It was less than a block away from his trucking yard and he would wash his clothes and take a shower there when he had a quick turn around. He loved seeing them grow and change as they got older.
The other picture I spent time with was Dan and I during a hike in Coal Canyon near Hamilton, Montana. I was trying to remember what year it was and for the life of me I can not. I remember the hike, the beauty of the trail, the rocks and the trees. I remember Dan laughing about my lack of lung capacity (he called it Central Valley asthma--which narrows the time frame to before our move to the Central Coast!) I stared at this picture and realized that it really shows our relationship. Close but independent of each other.
I always knew that if I fell Dan would break his neck to get to me, to help, to save me. And I knew that he knew that I would do the same.
That is why I was the last person he talked to. What an incredible gift. Someone in my life didn't judge me. He just loved me.
I have said it before and I will say it again. I am blessed. Sometimes you have to dig around in the past to really bring the idea home.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Dan Keeps Talking
Today I was telling people who were nearly perfect strangers about losing Dan. It was the wrong place and the wrong time and yet it was so right. I was sitting in a small conference room on the 15th floor of 2 Embarcadero, San Francisco, California. At the table with me was my co-counsel and our insurance representative. We were there for a mediation. We had separated from the larger group (about 15 lawyers and insurance reps in our big room--about 30 people involved all together) to talk about strategies and issues regarding our client.
The case involved the death of a person and we were talking about loss and the emotional cost of loss. And it just came out. I told the story almost in the third person. I wanted them to know what the facts were before I talked about the emotion. And it worked.
It is just weird. Dan just keeps helping me. His story created a platform for my co-counsel, the insurance rep and I to begin really talking about the underlying emotional issues without being embarrassed or posturing. We must have stayed in that conference room for 2 hours.
As I was flying home tonight, I thought about Dan and how he could talk to anyone. He was so like our father in that regard. Dan would go to a restaurant or tavern and spend most of his time talking to people. And my people I mean other than those that came with him. If you weren't into working the room then you were kinda on your own.
I was really use to that as Dad would do this all the time. He always knew the owner of the restaurant or half the patrons or most of the staff. Dan had that talent. It was fun to watch. He would do it at any social event. At our last Christmas Concert (Vocal Arts Ensemble) at the Mission in San Luis Obispo, he made friends with Jed's parents (whom he had never met before) and with friends of mine from Bakersfield (whom he had not met before that night either!). He made friends with members of VAE just by being there. His goofy grin and his gift of gab were great things to watch.
And I think that today, he was exerting his gift of gab. I wasn't looking for sympathy. I didn't have any intention of mentioning Dan's death. This was a business meeting. This was a mediation on a serious case. And Dan came in and made it easier for me.
Thanks, Big Brother.
The case involved the death of a person and we were talking about loss and the emotional cost of loss. And it just came out. I told the story almost in the third person. I wanted them to know what the facts were before I talked about the emotion. And it worked.
It is just weird. Dan just keeps helping me. His story created a platform for my co-counsel, the insurance rep and I to begin really talking about the underlying emotional issues without being embarrassed or posturing. We must have stayed in that conference room for 2 hours.
As I was flying home tonight, I thought about Dan and how he could talk to anyone. He was so like our father in that regard. Dan would go to a restaurant or tavern and spend most of his time talking to people. And my people I mean other than those that came with him. If you weren't into working the room then you were kinda on your own.
I was really use to that as Dad would do this all the time. He always knew the owner of the restaurant or half the patrons or most of the staff. Dan had that talent. It was fun to watch. He would do it at any social event. At our last Christmas Concert (Vocal Arts Ensemble) at the Mission in San Luis Obispo, he made friends with Jed's parents (whom he had never met before) and with friends of mine from Bakersfield (whom he had not met before that night either!). He made friends with members of VAE just by being there. His goofy grin and his gift of gab were great things to watch.
And I think that today, he was exerting his gift of gab. I wasn't looking for sympathy. I didn't have any intention of mentioning Dan's death. This was a business meeting. This was a mediation on a serious case. And Dan came in and made it easier for me.
Thanks, Big Brother.
Bill's house
Today I am going to a mediation in San Fransico on a civil case. Yeah, I know, I don't do civil, but this came out of a criminal case in SLO so I really couldn't turn it down. My client is not one of the "biggies" and I am not lead counsel so this country bumkin lawyer feel pretty safe.
Well, sorta.
I don't do cities well. I can do airports (the rebooking because my original flight was going to be 4 hours late was real fun) and finding the BART station in the International terminal was ok (I can read signs in English and some in Spanish). Getting to the right station on BART was another thing. Not losing my ticket so I could get OUT of the station was something they forgot to tell me...
So, brother Bill is patiently waiting for me outside the staition and laughing his head off. It has been years since I have spent any time in a place this populated. I feel like an idiot.
Which brings me to Daniel. As I saw Bill laughing I thought about the many times I complained to Dan about cities. He never felt like an idiot in them. He loved walking around in them. He loved the people in them. He hated living in them. He loved the cultural venues-the plays, concerts, art. He hated the crowds. But he was never intimidated by transportation. He just got there somehow.
When I got to Bill's house last night he has two pictures to show me. Both are of Dan and both were taken at the rehearsal dinner for Bill and Kathy's wedding. They were taken 10 years ago. I looked at those pictures, Dan with glass of wine in hand and smile on his face and I remember so much. Not incidents or times or places, just Dan.
In Bill's house, I remember Dan.
Well, sorta.
I don't do cities well. I can do airports (the rebooking because my original flight was going to be 4 hours late was real fun) and finding the BART station in the International terminal was ok (I can read signs in English and some in Spanish). Getting to the right station on BART was another thing. Not losing my ticket so I could get OUT of the station was something they forgot to tell me...
So, brother Bill is patiently waiting for me outside the staition and laughing his head off. It has been years since I have spent any time in a place this populated. I feel like an idiot.
Which brings me to Daniel. As I saw Bill laughing I thought about the many times I complained to Dan about cities. He never felt like an idiot in them. He loved walking around in them. He loved the people in them. He hated living in them. He loved the cultural venues-the plays, concerts, art. He hated the crowds. But he was never intimidated by transportation. He just got there somehow.
When I got to Bill's house last night he has two pictures to show me. Both are of Dan and both were taken at the rehearsal dinner for Bill and Kathy's wedding. They were taken 10 years ago. I looked at those pictures, Dan with glass of wine in hand and smile on his face and I remember so much. Not incidents or times or places, just Dan.
In Bill's house, I remember Dan.
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