Archive for the ‘Remembrance’ Category
Another Sad Anniversary
The last ten days or so have been rather challenging.
In addition to the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, which is nowhere near as much fun without my husband Michael (his charm, wit, love of football and willingness to cook made any holiday much more fun, not to mention more memorable), I’ve also observed two other sad anniversaries:
First, I observed the first anniversary of my friend Jeff Wilson’s passing on November 13. A particularly sad day, but I said nothing because I was too upset to even discuss it.
Next — today — I observed my friend Jeff’s 49th birthday.
Jeff was an extraordinarily kind and compassionate man. He was funny in his own, quiet way (often surprising himself as much as me), he loved his four cats, he followed politics and current events and some sports — the latter, I think, so he’d have something else to discuss with me as he knew I’m a big sports-lover.
And Jeff had a rare gift of insight, something I’ve only found in one other person (my husband Michael); because of this, he tolerated no weasel-words, and would not be fobbed off by any polite words (such as “I’m fine,” which to him always signaled something else, something along the lines of, “What’s wrong, and how can I help?”).
I never was all that great at observing Jeff’s birthday. I wish I had been better at it.
I can say that I tried, every day, to observe how important he was to me and let him know this. Because I felt that was the most important thing; he needed to know that I found him a worthy friend, and an interesting person, and someone with many special gifts to offer the world.
I miss my friend Jeff profoundly, and I wish he were here on his 49th birthday, just so he could tell me to stop worrying so much about him.
Even though he knew I wouldn’t.
A September 2012 Update
Folks, September is always a difficult month for me, because this is the month my wonderful husband Michael passed away. That I’m dealing with a sinus infection that refuses to go away is not helping.
I’m enjoying the Milwaukee Brewers and their recent run to respectability, as they’re now 66-69, only three games below .500.
Other than that, I’m continuing to work away while dealing with the most difficult month on the schedule . . . for the moment, at least at FB, I have a picture of myself with my late husband Michael up as one of the folks on FB complained that anyone who is unwilling to show his/her face must not be much of a person. Normally I’d shrug this off, but I figured just this once I’d put up my picture with Michael, explain why I normally do not use it, and go on from there . . . clear as mud, right?
More status updates as I get them.
Neil Armstrong Dies at 82
Tonight, raise your glass to commemorate the life of Neil Armstrong, a remarkable man who made history, yet remained humble afterward. He died today at 82.
Now, most of us know that Armstrong was one of the United States of America’s first astronauts and the first man on the moon. But did you know that Armstrong was also an engineer, a businessman, a farmer, and the role Armstrong seems to have relished the most, that of a “quiet old retired guy?” (I hadn’t, and didn’t, before I read so much today about Armstrong’s life after the moon landing.)
Please see this link for more information about Armstrong’s remarkable life and career; a brief excerpt follows:
Armstrong commanded the Apollo 11 spacecraft that landed on the moon July 20, 1969, capping the most daring of the 20th century’s scientific expeditions. His first words after setting foot on the surface are etched in history books and the memories of those who heard them in a live broadcast.
“That’s one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind,” Armstrong said.
In those first few moments on the moon, during the climax of heated space race with the then-Soviet Union, Armstrong stopped in what he called “a tender moment” and left a patch commemorate NASA astronauts and Soviet cosmonauts who had died in action.
“It was special and memorable but it was only instantaneous because there was work to do,” Armstrong told an Australian television interviewer this year.
Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin spent nearly three hours walking on the lunar surface, collecting samples, conducting experiments and taking photographs.
“The sights were simply magnificent, beyond any visual experience that I had ever been exposed to,” Armstrong once said.
The rest of the Yahoo article points out the historical significance of Armstrong’s moonwalk, puts Armstrong’s life in context, and discusses Armstrong’s private life (which was very, very private indeed).
Armstrong leaves behind his wife of thirteen years, Carol, and two grown sons from a previous marriage — and, of course, the many people around the world who remember his remarkable achievements, and will forever more.
Whitney Houston dies at 48
Whitney Houston has died at age 48.
I heard the news tonight on various channels, including MSNBC, CNN, and Fox News, so there is no mistake. Houston is dead, and her beautiful voice and ability to emote while singing has died with her.
From a musical standpoint, there was a great deal to admire about Houston. She had an operatic range, which is rare for singers of popular music (only Mariah Carey among current pop singers has anything close to the range of Houston). She also chose great songs from great songwriters; for example, one of Houston’s best-known songs, “I Will Always Love You,” was originally written and performed by Dolly Parton — herself no slouch as a singer. Yet Houston was able to add something to Parton’s excellent song to the point that if you asked ten people who’d heard each version which one they liked better, seven out of ten would probably say they liked Houston’s version better.
Houston’s death is a great loss for the music community. And even knowing that the Grammy Awards are tomorrow (where music as a whole celebrates music and musicians), and that there will have to be a Houston retrospective, it doesn’t help overmuch because it just doesn’t seem right that someone so vital die at age 48.
As anyone who’s read my blog knows, I resonate strongly to this because my late husband Michael died at age 46, suddenly and without warning. Then my best friend Jeff died last year, suddenly and without warning, after he’d fought off the worst of a terrible bacterial infection and seemed to be on the upswing, at age 47. This is why it really and truly does not seem right to me that someone who still had so much left to give is dead at age 48.
I tend to think a person’s life has to be measured by what he or she did with it; in the case of Houston, I believe she was as successful as she could be, considering the terrible toll drug addiction had exacted from her. She was a gifted performer, a fine singer, and by many accounts was a very kind person whose only real weakness was drugs.
At any rate, Houston’s life is over; she’s done all she could, and now all we have left are the recordings she left behind.
I refuse to say “rest in peace” because the phrase has been so overused that it’s trite. I’d rather say that my heart goes out to Houston’s daughter, Bobbi Kristina, Houston’s ex-husband, Bobby Brown (someone that Houston stayed close to even after she divorced him), her mother Cissy Houston (a gifted singer in her own right), and cousin Dionne Warwick (one of the best singers of the ’60s, ’70s, and early ’80s), along with anyone else who knew Houston or loved her music. May they be comforted by their memories and/or her music; may her spirit find happiness in Eternity. (Amen.)
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** Note: Whatever else that can be said about my late husband, or my best friend Jeff, know that up until the day of each man’s passing, they learned, changed, grew, and became better people the longer they lived. This is not to say they were saints (saints are boring); they were good men, which is a whole lot tougher thing to be than it seems.
Whitney Houston, according to Rev. Al Sharpton, had beaten most of her demons (this is my best paraphrase from hearing Sharpton on CNN and earlier on MSNBC); CNN has reported that Houston was about to star in her first movie in 15 years. So as far as anyone knows right now, Houston was clean and sober. She was able to act. And she was able to perform again, albeit with a voice that was badly ravaged by drugs — though even had she “stayed clean” throughout her life, the voice tends to break down for many operatic-trained sopranos in their late 40s.
To my mind, Houston’s life was a success. Not because she was such a great singer, but because she kept trying and didn’t give up. In this way — and perhaps only in this way — she was like my husband, or my friend, and that’s the main reason I mourn her passing.
Former Packers Radio Network Announcer Jim Irwin dies at 77 from Kidney Cancer
Former Green Bay Packers Radio Network announcer Jim Irwin has died at age 77 of kidney cancer. Irwin, who worked mainly for WTMJ-AM 620 Milwaukee in Wisconsin, announced games on the radio for the Packers, Milwaukee Bucks, Milwaukee Brewers (as a fill-in announcer) and Wisconsin Badgers for many years, starting in 1969 and retiring in 1998. Irwin also occasionally worked as a sportscaster for WTMJ-TV channel 4 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Irwin was a mainstay of the Packers Radio Network** for years as first a color commentator, then a play-by-play voice. Irwin called games for the Packers through many losing seasons before they finally got and stayed good in the 1990s; he retired after the Packers went to their second successive Super Bowl in 1998. Irwin was the last remaining radio announcer from his particular broadcast team, as long-time color commentator Max McGee died in 2007 and statistician Jim Palm died in 2010. (Note that in the 1997-8 season, Irwin called games with color announcer Larry McCarren as Max McGee retired one year before Irwin; McCarren continues those duties to this day with current Packers play-by-play announcer Wayne Larrivee.)
Irwin was inducted into the Packers Hall of Fame in 2003; prior to that, he had been inducted into the Wisconsin Broadcasting Hall of Fame and the Milwaukee Press Club Hall of Fame. Irwin was named the Wisconsin Sportscaster of the Year for a record-setting ten times in a row. (Please see this biography from the Packers Hall of Fame Web site for further details.)
Irwin was an outstanding, passionate announcer who loved the Packers and didn’t try to hide it, but wouldn’t hesitate to call out plays he felt were dumb or unnecessary. Irwin also could be caustic with regards to bad coaching, though it took a lot to get him there; as Bob Harlan said today on WTMJ radio 620 in Milwaukee during the Wisconsin Afternoon News program, Irwin was extremely “enthusiastic” about the Packers, was always “well-prepared,” but had “a temper” and would occasionally let it loose, especially if he felt something was wrong due to someone not doing his or her homework (either for the radio broadcast, or regarding the team itself).
Listening to some of the calls Irwin made fifteen years after the fact (as some were from 1996 and early 1997) reminded me how much I enjoyed the way Irwin called a game. He didn’t insert himself into the commentary as so many do nowadays; instead, he let the game come to him, and he explained what he saw in a way that was both clear and entertaining.
I’ve missed hearing Irwin’s smooth voice and insightful commentary on a regular basis since 1998, but he had occasionally worked on behalf of WTMJ AM so I still heard his thoughts now and again in recent years. There also had been an interview with Irwin on Today’s TMJ 4 (WTMJ-TV in Milwaukee, Wisconsin) last May that referenced the beginning of Irwin’s fight against kidney cancer, a fight Irwin was certain he’d win; that link is here.
Please see this link for a few transcribed Jim Irwin play-by-play calls, along with a great deal more information about what Irwin actually did for WTMJ radio and TV:
http://www.todaystmj4.com/news/local/137903348.html
Irwin led exactly the life he’d hoped to live, one filled with professional and personal success. And my guess is, he’d not have had it any other way, as referenced by this quote from the TodaysTMJ4 article:
When asked about how he would rate his life on a scale of 1-10, Irwin answered, “Is there a 12 or a 14?”
Rest well, Jim Irwin.
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** Wisconsin is unusual in that we’re a state that follows one, single NFL team, the Green Bay Packers. The Packers Radio Network in 2011-12 is comprised of thirty-six separate Wisconsin stations (see list here) and stations in Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, North Dakota, and South Dakota. That’s why our broadcasters often have a wider scope than some in other, much bigger media markets.
Music, Remembrance, and Observations
Folks, this is a difficult blog to write, mostly because I’ve been struggling with my grief process over the loss of my good friend, Jeff Wilson, all week long. (Well, really since he died, but this week it hit hard and fast, and just hasn’t really let up for very long.) Couple that with the holidays, and with missing my late husband Michael something fierce, well . . . let’s just say that I haven’t really had an enjoyable few weeks and save steps, shall we? (The sinus infection I’ve been dealing with hasn’t helped, either.)
What keeps me going despite these difficult and frustrating times? My music, that’s what. Music has a profound resonance for me, partly because I’ve spent most of my life studying it, and partly because I think better in music than words. (Strange, but true.)
Next Tuesday, I’ll play the first concert since making a bit of a comeback as a musician out at the University of Wisconsin-Parkside in Kenosha. The UW-Parkside Wind Ensemble and Community Band will perform, both singly and together; as first chair alto saxophone in the Community Band, I will be playing an extended solo in a piece called “Roma.” I’m looking forward to the concert, and I hope those of my friends and family who attend will enjoy it.
That being said, it feels very strange to me to be playing a concert at this time. I’m not one hundred percent right, not physically (even without the sinus infection, my hands continue to give me fits due to my carpal tunnel syndrome), and certainly not emotionally due to the recent loss of my friend Jeff. But that’s not any sort of excuse to keep me from doing whatever I can; I refuse to sit on the sidelines just because I am not in the musical shape I’d rather be in, or the physical shape, either.
The last time I played a concert, it was before I had met my late husband Michael — while Michael heard me practice many times, he never got a chance to hear me play in a concert, something I will always regret. Now, Jeff is also gone; while he was there encouraging me through both rounds of occupational therapy in the last year, which helped me regain enough of my abilities to again be able to play my saxophone (and play reasonably well), he is no longer able to hear me tell him how things are going, much less get a chance to hear a recording of the concert itself. (With his health issues the last five weeks of his life, that would’ve been the only way for him to hear me play unless I’d been able to get out there and play for him in person. Which of course I also wanted to do.)
So the two people who were the most important to me in this life are gone. I can’t do anything about that, other than wish with all my heart and soul that they were still here . . . and that’s not enough. (I’m sorry. I wish it was, but it really isn’t.)
What I’m going to try to do, therefore, is play and hope that wherever they are, they’ll hear it and know I’m doing everything in my power to regain my musical abilities. That meant a lot to them, and I’m sure that wherever they are now, it still does — so for the moment, all I can do is save up my experiences and hope that down the line, I’ll again be able to share with them how I felt about what I was doing in some sort of meaningful way (even if it has to be in the positive afterlife, not here).
Music, ’tis said, is a great healer. All I know is, it helps me to be able to play right now, even though nothing is going to be able to take this pain away because I miss my husband. I miss my good friend. And I wish very much that they were still with me in this life, because I really would’ve liked to see their faces after I finished, triumphantly, playing my solo in “Roma.”
Jeff Wilson: An Elegiac Portrait
I’ve been asked to describe my good friend, Jeff Wilson, to those who never got a chance to meet him. Here’s my best take, which I know will be inadequate.
Jeff was a very kind, compassionate person. He deplored the evils of this world, most particularly selfishness, greed and stupidity, but refrained from passing judgment on anyone. (More people should be like this.)
Jeff loved animals, and kept several cats (or maybe they kept him; I’m not sure). His cats were extremely important to him, and he treated them with respect and dignity — but don’t take that to mean he didn’t enjoy them, because he did. They often made him laugh, and he viewed this as an unalloyed blessing (which indeed, it was).
Jeff was an excellent friend. He was always there whenever he was needed, and he’d do whatever he could to help. He was an excellent listener; more to the point, he understood what he heard, which was a rare and special quality.
Jeff had very strong principles and an intrinsic sense of balance. Perhaps this was due to his appreciation of Eastern religious thought, most particularly the words of Confucius and Gautama Buddha; maybe it was just something about him that would’ve been there even without that, though studying those tenets certainly helped refine these excellent qualities.
Jeff searched for excellence in all things. He rarely found it, but when he did, he was as delighted as a child unwrapping just the toy he or she had wanted at Christmas.
Jeff appreciated classical music because it brought him closer to the Divine. His favorite composer was probably Ludwig van Beethoven; his favorite piece was Gustav Holst’s The Planets.
Jeff read everything, but he had a particular love for two different and disparate styles of writing: science fiction and fantasy on the one hand, and the highly structured and mannered novels of Jane Austen and her imitators on the other. He loved the former because they opened up new worlds and ways of thought to him; he loved the latter because they proved that even in a highly mannered world (now lost), people often acted rashly, badly, and without forethought — but how they got out of trouble in the end and found worthy pursuits was very similar to our own time. (In other words, Jeff found the commonality of human experience to be worthy, regardless of genre.)
Jeff was a nonmaterialist, a nonconformist, was an autodidact (meaning he taught himself many things he’d never learned in school and could absorb almost anything), a writer, an artist, dabbled with poetry but was rarely satisfied with his efforts (which to my mind, would make him a poet; not to his, though). He loved life, talking with people about anything and everything, and wanted to know all that was knowable.
I will miss him profoundly.
More on my friend, Jeff Wilson . . . and a bit about the recalls
Folks, these two topics aren’t as far removed as they seem. My best friend’s name was Jeff Wilson; he lived in Fort Collins, Colorado, and as I said earlier today, he died on Sunday morning at the age of 47.
Jeff was a political watcher, just as I am, and was keenly interested in the recall of Governor Scott Walker and also in the recall of my own sitting State Senator, Van Wanggaard (R-Racine). Jeff believed, as I do, that Walker and Wanggaard overreached drastically back in February due to SB10 — that being the budget bill that stripped public employee union members of their rights to collectively bargain. So me continuing to pursue the recalls, even though I really feel terrible about Jeff’s passing, is the right thing to do. It’s what he’d want me to do.
The recalls of both Walker and Wanggaard will start at 12:01 a.m. on Tuesday morning — that is, about two hours from now. Some people are going in their pajamas to get the recall papers; some are going straight from football parties (as the Packers are playing tonight; currently they’re up 31-7 in the third quarter). I won’t be doing that; I’ll be lighting a candle, again, in my good friend’s memory. But tomorrow afternoon, I will be going if at all possible to the recall office and will not only sign to get Walker and Wanggaard out, but will take the training so I can perhaps train others to do the same thing.
As I said before, Jeff was a deeply principled and ethical man. He had a very strong moral compass. He knew what he believed was right and he did that; nothing else need apply, and that was one of his best qualities to my mind (I suppose it matched my stubbornness rather well). That’s why he supported, very strongly, the recall of these two men; he even mentioned it on Friday during our last conversation.
It’s very hard right now to concentrate on anything because I feel so terribly about Jeff’s untimely passing. He was getting better. Everything looked good. I believed I could get out there to see him, and would’ve found a way as I was looking really hard; I also know that Jeff looked forward to my telephone calls, and that my encouragement and support meant a great deal to him — as me talking to him, knowing he was alive and fighting as hard as he could, meant a great deal to me because I knew he’d have done the same thing if I’d have been in his place.
So while I still want to recall Walker and Wanggaard and try to restore some balance to my state (all three branches of government right now are controlled by radical, hard-right Rs), it’s muted even though I’ve been looking forward to this day for months. I hope you can understand why.
While Heaven, or the positive afterlife (“the Good Place (TM)”), whatever you want to call it, has gained an angel, I feel absolutely devastated. Jeff and I were friends for a long time — six years, maybe a bit more — and he was my best friend, the person who understood me the best, and the person I understood the best also. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I would much rather Jeff be here, and be upset at not being home where he wanted to be (a completely understandable reaction, to my mind), and me be able to talk with him directly and him with me, directly, than Heaven gaining him as an angel.
Because when one good person dies, the whole world loses, whether the world knew this person or not. In Jeff’s case, as he was a very, very good person, the world’s loss is nearly incalculable. And my own — well, I have no words to describe it, except to say that I wish with everything I have that this hadn’t happened.
I wanted to be there, to hold his hand, and to be able to give him a hug. I thought him seeing me, seeing my caring and concern, would make a difference. I wasn’t able to get there but was working hard to do so; obviously, I didn’t get that chance.
And while I don’t know if me getting there would’ve made a difference to him, it assuredly would’ve for me — being able to see him and touch him and hold his hand would’ve helped a lot right now.
I’m doing my best to remember the good times and positive memories of the excellent conversations Jeff and I had about all sorts of wide-ranging subjects. That’s the only way to deal with grief, really; you can’t forget, and you can’t “move on,” but you can go on with your memories and never, ever forget the wonderful people who have graced your life.
I’ve had two, now. My wonderful, amazing, extremely intelligent and talented husband, Michael. And my astonishingly smart, gifted, and remarkably talented friend, Jeff. So I’ve been doubly blessed, and I know that, even though I really wish both of them were here on this plane of existence rather than the positive afterlife I’m sure they’re enjoying right now because I miss them both more than words could ever say.
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** Note: As I’ve said before, there’s no question in my mind Michael would want me to pursue the recall efforts also. Michael was deeply principled also, and believed hypocrisy was among the worst sins known to mankind — Van Wanggaard has been guilty of that, in spades — while pitting brother against brother, sister against sister, the way Scott Walker did, is right down there, too. So with my extremely heavy heart, I will do my best to oust these two politicians and send them home to pursue a different course of employment . . . and hope whoever takes their places will be much better public servants than either of these two, or even both of them put together.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 