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Month: May 2016

On Cameron, Uncle Jim, and Me

On Cameron, Uncle Jim, and Me

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This is Cameron. He recently lost his second tooth.

When my almost six year old grandson Cameron arrived at the memorial service to celebrate Jimmy, he asked if Uncle Jim was there.

A little while later when the long lines of visitors extended down the driveway, he asked Savannah if Uncle Jim was in that long line.

With everything else that was going on, I don’t know that Cameron’s questions were ever properly addressed by Savannah or I.

So my answer to Cameron would be this;

Yes Cameron, Uncle Jim was in the building.

And yes Cameron, Uncle Jim was in the line too.

And I would add that Uncle Jim was in the Coomber Farm back yard as well.

And when me and all of you nice people left and went back to wherever it was we came from, Uncle Jim is now there too.  And that’s where he will live from now on.

And after seeing many familiar faces and speaking to many friends, I think it’s safe to say Cameron,  that your Uncle Donny was there too.

 

And finally I would like to express my personal gratitude for everyone’s assistance in helping to share our stories in all of our ways; and for the encouraging on line and off line comments that I personally received.  Some of those comments even came from folks who didn’t know Jimmy and wished they had, or felt like they do now; some in fact didn’t know either one of us.

When you are used to getting 30 or 40 views of one of your posts, and then you get 5000, that is sort of akin to having a best selling book in my little Musings world.  Hard to imagine. I have heard of people who have written a classic or a best seller only to never write again for fear of failure in a follow up.

Sorry,  that won’t be me.

And besides, I’ve been inspired.

Do you think that is a coincidence?

I don’t know.

Maybe………maybe not.

My Eulogy for Jimmy

My Eulogy for Jimmy

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Later today we will celebrate the life of Jimmy McLaughlin.

But I would like to share with you now my favorite Jimmy story.

Most evenings when the weather is nice, you will find Kim and me out on our deck unwinding from the stress of the day and catching up with each other.  If you are not familiar with where we live, our yard backs right up to the Herndon High School athletic fields.   There is a fairly thick wooded area between our yard and the more elevated fields, which are enclosed by a chain link fence that is probably a good 7 or 8 feet tall.  Because of our close proximity, if we are on our deck, we are hearing whatever game, practice, or band event that is occurring on the fields.

On this particular evening, if I remember correctly, it was a Powder Puff game that was taking place.

So there we were, on the deck just talking and sitting at the table under the umbrella.  That’s when it happened.

All of a sudden there was this great commotion in woods behind our house.   We could hear bushes and leaves rustling loudly; branches snapping and cracking…..and I mean cracking, these were obviously no small branches being broken.

What the heck could it be?

We were startled…was it a huge deer?  A Big Foot?

What could possibly be snapping large branches like tooth picks and causing all that commotion?

Should we go to safety inside the house?

Seconds later, we saw it.

It wasn’t a giant deer.  No and it wasn’t Big Foot either.

It was a human.

It was a human in his underwear.

And it was Jimmy.

As Jimmy emerged from the trees and the underbrush he quickly bolted across our back yard.  As you would expect with Jimmy, he very respectfully acknowledged Kim and I on the deck with a greeting, never losing a step as he raced across the yard.  We watched in confusion and disbelief as Jimmy crossed the neighbor’s yard, then the common area, and finally disappeared around the tennis courts.

Later I would learn that in the moments  just before the commotion in the woods, Jimmy had streaked across the Powder Puff Game field and had a couple of adults in hot pursuit as he scaled and leaped the high chain link fence and went crashing through the woods.

For Kim and I, left looking at each other thinking what’s to disbelieve?

It was Jimmy in his underwear crashing through the woods and running through the yard.

Why not?

And we laughed.

 

I recently read a book by Elizabeth Gilbert called Big Magic.  You might be familiar with Elizabeth Gilbert because she wrote Eat, Pray, Love; which was pretty popular.   In Big Magic, Gilbert introduces the concept that inspiration is a living thing.  And as a living thing, inspiration is constantly looking for a place to live, a place to develop.  Left idle, that inspiration would move on looking for someplace else, someone else, where it could continue to live and grow.

That may be hard to imagine, but I believe inspiration found a home in Jimmy.  Jimmy was inspired to do great things with his life.  After college something motivated him to leave his comfort zone and join the Navy.  But not just the Navy, he took on Navy Seal training and ultimately became a Medical Navy Diver graduating at the top of his class.

Something in Jimmy drove him to want to take on the most challenging and be the best at it.

And he succeeded.

I propose this to you, because I want you to consider that what if Ms. Gilbert’s theory has merit?  What if the inspiration that found its home in Jimmy, is now idle and looking for a place to live?

And wouldn’t it be an honor and a privilege if the inspiration that was alive in Jimmy, found its new home in one of us.

But maybe we think that is a bunch of crap and don’t believe that inspiration is a living thing looking for a place to grow.

Maybe we don’t need to.  Maybe we just need to consider Jimmy’s life…. not his death, but his life; and maybe that would be enough  to inspire one of us  to strive to do something we have never done before, something outside our comfort zone, and be the best at it.

And do it with the same good nature and passion that Jimmy would have done it with.

I think so.

And for Jimmy, who did all the hard work to provide that inspiration for us, that would be an honorable way to be remembered.

But for now Jimmy,  rest……. in peace.

Words

Words

Jimmy McLaughlin May 19, 1988 - May 20, 2016
Jimmy McLaughlin
May 19, 1988 – May 21, 2016

For Kathy

It is estimated that there are 1,025,109.8 words in our English language,

Way too many for me to learn how to manage.

But woven together they can build great nations,

And the men and women who speak them, distinguished reputations.

They can be used to create unions of countries divided,

Or unions of two, with a simple “I Do.”

They often express love and sometimes inflict pain,

Either building strong relationships or causing some to be never the same.

And put to a melody some can sing and others try,

Or in a book or an essay, put a tear in your eye.

No matter, without them,  the world we would not know.

 

But if words are so important and so easily spoken,

Why is it so that there are days like today?

A day when I can’t find the words,  and the right thing to say.

When out of that million I struggle for just a few,

That will make this day better…. better for you.

Then I look up from my writing and right in front of me hanging on the wall,

Is a plaque that says:

“Mothers hold their children’s hands for a while…their hearts forever”

There….. I guess I couldn’t have said that any better.

 

Postscript:

The  prayers and deepest sympathies of my family go out to Meghan, Jimmy’s wife; Kathy, Jimmy’s mom, for whom I write this; Rody, Jimmy’s dad; Tommy, Christian, and Patrick, Jimmy’s brothers; as well as to Jimmy’s grandmother, aunts and uncles, and cousins.  And also to the extended family, you know who you are, who once again are circling the wagons.

Mother’s Day Angels

Mother’s Day Angels

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Lying in her bed, early in the morning

The cell phone rings with a message that reads

“Thinking of you, have nice day”

She puts her head back down on the pillow and starts to cry

Here we go again this year

It’s another Mother’s Day

 

I don’t remember which year, which Mother’s Day I wrote that, the opening paragraph of a longer piece I never finished.

It’s another Mother’s Day.  They are all a little different and unfortunately all have their similarities.

Today started with the similar, some sadness, some tears.

Kim decided to make a visit to the cemetery to visit Donny, and this is where it got different.

While there she felt a hand on her back.  It was a woman.  The women explained she had been walking by and saw Kim there.

And her heart felt heavy.

She started to walk back by again but again she didn’t stop.  And again she said she felt the Lord heavy on her heart and she felt like the Lord wanted her to stop and talk.

And so the third time she decided to walk up to Kim.

She told Kim “your son is always going to be with you even though he is with the Lord.”

And she said “It’s okay to cry.”

 

I don’t know who that women was who felt the need to stop and talk to Kim on this Mother’s Day, but for today to me she was an angel.  Like the young person who sent the text messages to Kim for many years on Mother’s Day, “Thinking of you, have a nice day.”  That act of thoughtfulness was huge.   To me,  he was also an angel.

And though the day started very similar to many other Mother’s Days I remember, this one had its story that made it different and as a result helped make it better.

Because just like the stranger in the cemetery said “it’s okay to cry,” it’s okay to be happy too even though you might feel like you shouldn’t.

So Happy Mother’s Day to my wife and to all the mom’s out there.  I am sure you all have your angels too.

 

The Gardener

The Gardener

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They are out there…

I know they are…

The Enemy.

I’ve seen them.  I hear some of them chattering and chirping and making their plans in the early morning as the sun rises.

Sometimes I see them in the trees or hiding in the woods.  Sometimes I have seen them reconnoitering in the yard.

Some are large with antlers and spots.  Some are small with long furry tails and leap from tree to tree.  Some have wings and fly.

I am The Gardener.

They are The Enemy.

 

But I wasn’t always The Gardener.

I hated dirt and digging the holes that went with working in the gardens.  My wife however, The Farm Girl, loved to garden.

And since she was The Farm Girl aka The Master Gardener (and because she was my wife), I of course became The Laborer.

And for a time this only served to fuel my hatred and my animosity for gardening.  Hey, I had a schedule of projects that needed to get done on the weekends as well, but because she was The Master Gardener (and because she was my wife), and I was The Laborer, I had to continually put my projects on hold to help her:

“Honey, can you dig this hole for me?”

“Honey can you carry that large shrub, the one in that big pot, over here so I can plant it?  And while you’re here can you just lift it out of the pot and put it in this hole you just dug please?”

“Honey can you bring that bag of dirt over here and put some around this plant that you just put in the hole that you just dug?

“Oh and honey, I need more dirt.  Can you please go to the store and get me more dirt?”

One summer I made so many trips to the store to buy dirt, I even wrote the lyrics to a song about a guy who made so many trips to the hardware store to buy dirt for his wife, that he ended up falling in love and running off with the girl at the check-out.

But that didn’t happen to me.  I never found anyone at my local Home Depot that stirred that kind of emotion.

But I did at home.  And since my wife has always been much smarter than me and always an inspiration, she knew that eventually the juices would be flowing not for the girl at the register in the Garden Section of the Home Depot, but for the Garden Section itself.

You see, gardening is like art.  It can be very creatively challenging and rewarding.  And she knew that was the hook for me.

And that brings me back to the critters:

The Seed Outlaws.

The Hosta Chompers.

The Enemy!

A couple of weeks ago, I spent a particularly long weekend re-designing the Koi pond and working in the gardens. I meticulously planted seeds (which I have never done before) in strategically ideal locations that would add a certain effect once the seeds sprouted, broke through the ground, and flowered; some laying their vines along the fences and trellises; others playing the part of the background chorus for what I envisioned as a symphony of color, in support of those that perennially awaken each new season.

So I watered.

And I waited.

And I watered some more.

And I watched.

As I watched and made my daily evening patrols to check the progress, I started seeing the holes where my seeds were once strategically nesting and the scratch marks on my freshly laid garden soil.  In addition, some of my returning lilies were missing their tops. One evening while on patrol, I startled a pair of doves pecking at my mixed flower seeds, the cowards flew away as I approached.

I was pissed.

Then last night it really got serious.  They called in Air Support.

Under a severe thunder storm warning, the rain that added four inches of water to my Koi pond, washed away much of my new dirt and the seeds I had carefully planted and had been patiently watching and waiting on.   Along with the large amounts of grass seed I had spread on Sunday, they now lay exposed to The Seed Outlaws; or germinating in my neighbor’s yard.

Those that had sprouted now had roots exposed and were leaning limply from the trauma of the storm.

It was carnage garden style.

Oh the angst of being The Gardener!

 

Okay I know, I know, I need counseling.

But I feel better.

I know, it’s a freaking garden, they’re squirrels,  and I need to get over it!

I should go have a beer, take my angst and go write something, I can throw some more dirt and seeds down tomorrow.

Okay then.

Thank you.