Relay for Life 2006

So, tonight, July 28th was the annual Relay for Life for the American Cancer Society. Having just lost my nearest and dearest to pancreatic cancer back in May, I decided that this year I would attend, and walk some laps in memory of not only my mother, but also my stepfather, who we lost to prostate cancer back in December of 2004. It’s just so incredibly unfair. My stepfather developed prostate cancer, and renal failure all about the same time, and spent a fairly miserable and sickly last 4-5 years of his life with my mom taking care of him. Then, this year, just as she was starting to be able to move on with her life, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and she left us a mere 37 days after her diagnosis. So, we’ve suffered two brutal losses in as many years, instead of being able to watch the two of them enjoy their retirement years together.

The heat was ungodly all day today, reaching a record high for our town of 101º Fahrenheit. As it stands, as I sit here and type this, I don’t think it’s much cooler than the low 90s, and it’s almost 1:00 A.M. on the 29th. I’m currently sipping a nice, cold glass of Kool-Aid® cherry flavored beverage type stuff, and trying to piece this entry together before I succumb to heat exhaustion and pass out.

Anyway, my stepsister Amber and I were attending this event with my aunt’s team from the hospital where she works. Amber and I arrived around 5:00, and met up with my aunt and the rest of the team. As I said, the heat was just brutal. We were under a heat advisory until 8 P.M. or so, with a thunderstorm watch ending half an hour after that.

Our arrival time of 5:00 was pretty much the last time I paid attention to the actual time. An hour or two after we got there, they called everybody out onto the track, and started sending the teams on an inaugural lap so that we could all line the track for the Survivor’s Walk. Once the Survivor’s Walk was complete, everybody was free to do their own walking, according to the scheduling of their teams. Our team had no particular schedule that I know of, so I just started walking. I met up with a guy I used to work with at Target, and walked several laps with him, and I also walked a few later in the evening with Amber.

Once it got dark, all of the lights over the track were shut off, and the memorial luminaries were lit. These consisted of a small candle in a block of wood inside a white paper bag, that were decorated by people either in memory of loved ones lost to cancer, or in honor of people who were currently battling and/or beating it. My aunt did a great job with our luminary bags; she took photographs, one of my grandparents (neither of whom were actually lost to cancer, but we miss them horribly nonetheless) and my mom and stepfather, and she photocopied these onto transparencies, which she then taped to the outsides of the bags. This produced an effect, that when the candles were lit, the photos on the bags were completely visible, even in the dark.

I made my own contribution to the evening. A couple of weeks ago, I had three T-shirts made up, with a picture of my mom and stepfather on the front, and their names and life dates on the back. We received many compliments and kudos from people during the walk, who felt that these shirts captured the very essence of what the evening was about.

All in all, I think I acquitted myself rather well during the walking portion of the evening. I managed to complete 14 laps around the track, not counting the inaugural lap prior to the Survivor’s Walk. So, I did 3 ½ miles total. Not a lot, I’ll admit, but considering the abominable heat and my not-so-great physical shape, more than I thought I would do.

Around midnight, most of our team had left, and my feet were aching, not to mention the fact that it was still very hot out, so my aunt, Amber and I all decided to call it a night.

It was fun, though. I’m already thinking of going next year.

Teenagers, booze, and tinsnips

After the events of Monday, I was ready for a nice, quiet weekend. Sadly, the local teenyboppers decided that this was not in the plan.

I spent a fairly uneventful day here at home just relaxing and watching DVDs. I had gone to Mom’s house to check the mail, and then I had done some grocery shopping. The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent watching TV, and dozing in the chair. As always, the teenager up in apartment 203 or 4, I don’t know exactly which, was spending her time with her boyfriend running up and down the hallway stairs, and in and out of the building. She is about 14, I think. Her mother was supposedly ‘at work’, but was actually out doing the Saturday night barhopping gig.

More teenagers showed up as the evening progressed. Then booze suddenly became a factor in the night’s festivities. As seems to be the case with teenagers more and more nowadays, it started threatening to become the Saturday Night Fights.

By this time, it was past 11 P.M. I was puttering about here on the old PC, wondering why most of the sites I was trying to visit were down for the evening. Anyway, I could still hear the kids outside, yelling at each other. I couldn’t hear specifics, though, and basically ignored the noise until I heard the telltale sound of glass breaking.

I went to my window, and looked outside. I wasn’t too worried about it; the glass had been broken in front of the building, so I knew my vehicles were safe. My VW is locked in the garage, and my pickup is parked on the side of the building. So, having ascertained the safety of my personal belongings, I once again attempted to ignore the activity outside. I briefly considered calling the police to report the underage drinking, but having had similar experiences in the past, I knew that the police would merely tell me to contact the landlord or the caretaker. I knew that the caretaker was gone for the evening, so I just let everything pass.

A few minutes later, as I was preparing to go to bed, I heard more activity. The roommate of the caretaker had finally had enough, and was outside restoring order to our little community. I grabbed my cigarettes, went outside, and lit up, where I could at least be a witness, if not render any necessary assistance.

One guy was down on his hands and knees picking up broken glass. Two others were getting into their vehicle and leaving, and the rest were being ordered back into their apartment to go sleep it all off. One girl was making hasty apologies about the entire ordeal. When asked her age, she said that she was nineteen. Finally, order was restored, and just the caretaker’s roommate and myself were left outside. He called the caretaker to report the incident, and we just sat outside quietly discussing it. Another teen came outside, and began to apologize for all of the trouble. He had just been there visiting, and hadn’t participated in the drinking, or the disorderly. The caretaker’s roommate asked him the actual age of the 19 year old, and we were told that she was actually only 16, as we had figured.

She came outside then, and explained that she commonly lied about her age because she had been kicked out of her parent’s house, and this hadn’t been reported to the police, so she was technically a runaway. She told us about how she was trying to maintain a job and an apartment so that she could finish high school.

The guy, in the meantime, was out rummaging in his pickup, looking for a pair of wire cutters. I briefly wondered what use wire cutters were going to be, until he returned with a pair of tinsnips, which he handed to the girl. The caretaker’s roommate and I watched in disbelief, and finally we both started laughing as the girl took the tinsnips and began using them to remove a piercing from her nose. Apparently, during one of the earlier of the evening’s scuffles, the piercing had been knocked slightly out of place. At that point, the two teens finally went back upstairs, and the caretaker’s roommate and I just sat outside a while longer, still laughing about it.

I knew I had to write this little tidbit up right away, before I forgot any of it. It actually did provide a little merriment to an otherwise sedate evening, and helped me to forget about the events of my previous entry, even if for just a little while.

Hearings and tribulations

So, today, July 17th, is the day that my stepsister Amber and I went to court to be named co-representatives for my mother’s estate. She lives about two hours away from here, and the hearing was scheduled for 9 a.m. today, so she drove up last night and stayed in town.

Last night she called me and told me that her brother Don wanted to come to the hearing with us. I saw no problem with that; he’s one of the heirs in the will, so there’s no particular reason why he shouldn’t go. I was also given the impression that after the hearing, the three of us would go to Mom’s house, and tentatively start making lists of who wanted what, and doing a bit of organizing. We also decided to meet for breakfast at 7 this morning before going to the judicial building. Now, I like Don well enough, but I’ve never been all that comfortable around him because I’ve never really known him very well. I know Amber and their other brother Hart very well, and I feel totally at ease with either of them, but Don just makes me feel ill at ease. It's not his fault, nor mine, it's just the way it is.

I was the last to arrive for breakfast. We sat making small talk for a few minutes. Then it started. Don wanted to know what the status of the car was. I told him the details, all of which you can read in my last entry. Basically, “Mom made me a co-owner so that it would become mine when she left us. She gave it to me.” There was a bit of a pause before I got his response: “Oh, uh, okay. . . I guess I don’t really care now, but I think what I would have done, to make it more fair, would be to sell the car as part of the estate, and split the money with everybody else.”

That was the first instance my nose went out of joint. Being me, I said nothing. As I stated above, I don’t know Don all that well, so I decided I’d just let it pass. Then we began discussing the trip to the house after the hearing. Don spoke up again: “I brought a trailer with me.” My immediate unvoiced answer was “What on Earth for??” Once again, being me, I said nothing. At this point, I was quite frankly too stunned to really do or say anything.

The hearing itself went smoothly enough. Amber and I were appointed as legal co-representatives of Mom’s estate. We should receive our certified copies of the decision in the mail soon.

Then we went to the house. The looting and pillaging began almost immediately. To Don’s credit, I was asked about each and every specific item loaded into his truck and trailer, about whether or not I had any objections to his taking the specific items. The items themselves I had no objection to his taking, but a deep feeling of being commandeered and taken advantage of began to fester inside me. The ink was barely dry on the paperwork naming Amber and myself as the representatives, and we have yet to actually receive said paperwork, but all of a sudden Don was taking charge, and things were happening. Oh boy, were they happening. I still said nothing; the state of shock in which I had been existing all day, coupled with watching my mother’s belongings being—well, basically being ransacked had served to paralyze me. I merely watched, and offered neither assistance nor resistance.

Throughout the day, and again as the day was winding down, Don kept informing me that he’s not available tomorrow, but will be from Wednesday forward “so we can get this all finished.” I chose to remain noncommittal, and merely stated that I had no idea what I might be doing this week.

After Don left with all of his booty, Amber and I had a long talk. I voiced my frustration over the way things had gone today. To make a long entry only slightly longer, she did agree with me, as she had been as shocked as I was over the way things had gone. My real complaint is that Don seems to be interested only in the monetary aspect of things, and doesn't seem to realize or even care that our mutual parents are both gone. For God's sake, he even looked at my mother's remaining packs of unsmoked cigarettes and asked me what I thought they were worth. He and I are going to have a nice long chat before he sets foot inside that house ever again.

I made a vow today, though. I am still going to be as nice as I can until all estate matters are settled, but I am going to install an actual backbone, and use it from now on. I’m not going to allow myself to be steamrollered as I was today, and between Amber and myself, we are going to make Don understand this, and back off. He is not in charge of this project; Amber and I are in charge, and we are going to make all the decisions, and give all of the necessary permissions from now on.

I wish I could come up with a really snappy conclusion to this particular entry, but the events of the day have left me too brain-dead to do so. I’m going to post this, lengthy as it is, and head to bed. Y’know, I have a strange feeling that I’m going to be completely unreachable for at least the rest of this week. *insert grin here*

De-buggery

A month or so before my mom died, she was wondering what to do about her car. Her house, and everything else had been accounted for in her will, but not the car. I hated having these discussions with her, but I said I would take it if she had no objection. So, we took the title in, and I was made a co-owner, so that when the inevitable happened, ownership would automatically transfer to me. So, now I am the owner of a 2003 Volkswagen Beetle convertible. It’s a great car, but I would gladly give it up if I could get back the purchase price. (That is to say, my mother’s life.)

The thing runs great, and gets great mileage. At least I think it does; I haven’t yet bothered to do the math whenever I’ve filled it. Plus, now that summer is here, I’ve been doing a LOT of driving around with the top down. I tell ya, it does attract stares. I’m not at all comfortable with the stares, in fact I hate them, but it does give me a tiny bit of satisfaction when I see other Beetle drivers with a hardtop gazing sullenly in my direction.

This weekend though, the damn battery died. I couldn’t believe it. Upon reflection, I realize that these things happen, but I still wasn’t thrilled about it. It first happened on Saturday afternoon. I jump-started it with my pickup and got it running, but the next morning it was dead again. My cousin and I monkeyed with it for about an hour trying to get the battery out of its case so we could go replace it. No such luck. The VW company managed to completely enclose the battery inside this incredibly convoluted plastic casing, which requires an engineering degree to open. So, I called the VW roadside assistance number, and was connected to Carlos, presumably out in California somewhere. I told him the problem; the car needs to be jumped every time I want to start it. His confident response: “Oh, there’s something wrong with it.” I tell ya, with great advice like that, I’m amazed that it was a toll-free call.

Anyway, we jumped it and drove it to the local dealership, rather than pay a towing charge. They replaced the battery today, and by a cool stroke of luck, the car is still under warranty, so the new battery and the labor were all free. I don’t normally have that kind of luck, I assure you. Kudos to the VW company.