No Roots
No Roots
In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril, Amlodopine, Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: No Roots: Alice Merton
June 1, 2020
In Florida, schools are closing for the summer. Heat and hurricanes are in our future and we are not sure when the travel restrictions will be lifted. We miss seeing our friends and we most certainly have been away from our kids and their kids for far too long. I realize separation from family is customary in a number of jobs, such as the military. But for most of us, it is a new experience. And as the days and weeks and months pass us by, not a pleasant one.
Starting this week, Kath will be home, and not spending her time setting plans, grading papers, Zooming with her students, coordinating with the teaching team and talking with parents. This has me worried. While she was teaching, actually and virtually, I was able to set my own schedule of household chores, writing, exercising and playing golf with The Relics. But now The Sheriff is back in town. My home command is at an end. Cooperation will be required. Conflict is inevitable. Life as we know it, will come to an end. Oh! Wait a minute. Covid 19 already did that. Never mind.
Back to our dogs and our early days in Alabama
Not long after we completed construction on our Bimini house, and melanoma had become a constant in my body and in our lives, Kath and I resolved how we would spend what little time we had left. Chemotherapy had been chewing on my cells, cancerous ones and good ones. And my lungs were deemed too damaged to withstand an operation. Those days were unnerving. For the most part, I had greeted each day with optimism. With this latest prognosis of a shortened life expectancy, my viewpoint became fatalistic. I never felt animus towards cancer. It was, for me, just another bump in the road. Albeit more of an axle-breaking pothole than a bump. I continued to work, reconstructing the organization and modernizing our technology. My health issues were not yet public knowledge. I had taken no time off and we were approaching the end of my first year with the company. Truthfully, I felt no physical effects from my cancer. I was in no pain whatsoever. The treachery of chemotherapy is in its commitment to heal. The toxic ingredients proved extremely painful and caused disgusting diarrhea and vomiting.
We simply carried on. Day after day. And we had two dogs now. We continued to be happy and content with the life we were dealt. Except for Buddy. He never got over the interloper. His mere glance forced Toby to scurry for shelter. Toby was tolerated. Never accepted. The dogs never shared the same space. They were the originators of social distancing.
We simply carried on. Day after day. And we had two dogs now. We continued to be happy and content with the life we were dealt. Except for Buddy. He never got over the interloper. His mere glance forced Toby to scurry for shelter. Toby was tolerated. Never accepted. The dogs never shared the same space. They were the originators of social distancing.
As Toby grew, he, Buddy and I took lots of walks and runs together. Life was peaceful. Toby, ever concerned, might have been a candidate for an ulcer. There were never any outbursts. But an ongoing undercurrent of trepidation flowed through the lives of our four legged family members. Nervous glances and dominating stares.
Canadian friends came to visit us in our new home. We spent hours with new friends, golfing, dining and gaining our place in the community. My job was both challenging and rewarding. Our business and social lives were intertwined and I was not just in Tuscaloosa. I was in heaven.
It was almost unthinkable that I was dying. Our lives were constantly catching the updraft. My morbidity was seldom discussed. We continually looked forward. We were never alone and always felt grateful for what we had. We never felt fear. Each day was a reward.
My mom came to visit for a few weeks. These days were the best of times. And to paraphrase Dickens, cancer's shadow also made them the worst of times. But we seemed able to ignore the darker side. Sitting with my family, in our den, with a view out our window, of the sun slowly sinking into the pines. Laughing. Reminiscing. Absolutely and completely in love with everything.
My mom came to visit for a few weeks. These days were the best of times. And to paraphrase Dickens, cancer's shadow also made them the worst of times. But we seemed able to ignore the darker side. Sitting with my family, in our den, with a view out our window, of the sun slowly sinking into the pines. Laughing. Reminiscing. Absolutely and completely in love with everything.
My bride and I were going to fly to California. To Napa. If our days were numbered, a few were going to be used to experience sights yet unseen. We had always wanted to see wine country. And this would be our first vacation in years. But, on Saturday night, three days prior to our leaving, the phone rang. We had to cancel our trip. A new surgeon in Birmingham had been reviewing my case, and he wanted to perform the surgery that others had felt a waste of time and money. The chance of success was deemed improbable. A number of doctors were in agreement that my life expectancy would not be improved through removal of a section of my lung. The damage was too severe.
This surgeon would excise the lower lobe of my left lung. He told me it would be painful and the recovery would be slow, but if successful, years would be added to my life. That was his belief. And the first positive medical news we had heard in a long time.
Goodbye Napa trip. Hello surgery.
As it turned out, he was right on all counts.
This surgeon would excise the lower lobe of my left lung. He told me it would be painful and the recovery would be slow, but if successful, years would be added to my life. That was his belief. And the first positive medical news we had heard in a long time.
Goodbye Napa trip. Hello surgery.
As it turned out, he was right on all counts.
A year or so later, in 1998, feeling healthy and optimistic, a magazine advert caught my eye. Bald Head Island. Three miles off the coast of Wilmington N.C. - straight out from the point where the Cape Fear River flows into the Atlantic. I told Kat that I wanted to see it. I thought it would be a great summer home, away from the heat and humidity of Tuscaloosa. I have always had an unexplainable affinity for water. Scotland, my birthplace, has no place more than forty miles from access to the ocean. My youth in Canada was spent on lakes and in boats. I loved, and still love to be on, or near water. But, without doubt, the ocean makes my heart race and lifts my spirit. My energy improves. I am always at my best with open water in my sight.
Kathy thought me crazy. A belief she continues to hold to this day. But off we went. It was a ten hour drive, and we barely made the last ferry from Southport. We had arranged our stay with a real estate lady, and after dinner and a night at the lodge, we met her the next morning, for a tour of the island. Fourteen miles of uninterrupted beach. 80% of the island was undeveloped, and would, by law, stay that way. We met and talked with some permanent residents. We viewed some properties and that day, we bought our beach house. My bride was in shock. She could not believe I would do such a thing. We had, only a year earlier, bought our house. The truth was, she fell in love with this place. It was magical. Cars were not allowed on the island. Transportation was by foot or by golf cart. The tiny village with restaurants and grocery stores was on the east end and one magnificent, continual beach, wrapped the island, seemingly forever. In the island's center was a golf course.
You could only get on the island by ferry, so day-trippers were non-existent. The house was a gem. Our view was Portugal. Or at least the miles of open water leading to it. We now had two homes. And my cancer was in check. I was born to travel. Or so it seems. My parents had explored countries and we had lived in more than our share of homes. Perhaps, through genetics, my roots have been shallow. A house is a place to live. My home has been wherever I am. Kath has been part and parcel in our travels. We have loved each and every place we ever lived. And when she stepped foot on this island, for the first time, it captured her heart.
When Stephanie first visited 9 Scotch Bonnet, she was overwhelmed. As she looked out from the front window, she saw a group of dolphins swim by, near the shoreline. Out she ran, with Toby and Buddy, chasing them down the beach. She returned, apparently unable to catch them, but thrilled with the chase. She was grinning, and said to me that this place would add years to my life. Maybe it did.
My life was filled with business travel at that time (and most of my business life) and that summer, Kath and the dogs stayed at the beach, with me making appearances on the weekends, some of which I tacked on an extra day or two. She loved being with her boys, and never felt alone or worried with them by her side. The girls visited whenever they could, and so too, did a number of our friends, to enjoy some golf and to walk that beach. Our ritual was to take at least two long walks each day, summer and winter. Inclement weather was never an obstacle. Shoes were made obsolete.
We were living a life that I had never had the courage to dream of.
Our first year was idyllic. Kath and the doggos even hunkered down, by themselves, when a big storm came through. They could have bailed early and headed back to Tuscaloosa, but in a secret ballot vote, they apparently agreed to ride out the weather. Such was our appreciation of a house on this magical island.
Today
Other than through wars, has anyone alive ever lived in a more disruptive period? We have, after several months, seemingly absorbed the regulations and separation caused by Covid19. And then some stupid policeman kills a man for having a fraudulent $20 bill. It was a young black man. And then, the City of Minneapolis has dealt with the situation in the most preposterous of ways. No wonder there is outrage. Sadly, the concern for justice evaporated under the weight of violent and purposeless demonstrations and looting. Our country is on the edge of a slippery slope. We need to outstretch our hands in support of a peaceful resolution. Change is required. By the government, by the police, by those responsible for stealing and damaging property and by all of us who need to learn forgiveness and tolerance.
We have control over only a few things in our life. How much we love and care for people is totally ours to handle. If we all demonstrate our best selves to those around us, things might begin to fall into place. For everybody.
Kathleen is in good health, given her arthritis, and I am living la via loca. I have ripped open the newly forming skin covering my arm wound. Once on a cabinet door and next, closing the trunk on the car. That made it a bit messier and will hinder new skin growth. Aggravating, but not debilitating.
Hang in my friends. The ride is long and sometimes bumpy. But we will continue. Love to you all from the south. Hugs better make a comeback. I am planning to share our mutual bra-mask with Kath later on. She won't realize it is a trap until it is too late. We men should give thanks to the virus that caused bras to live alone in a dark drawer, not to be worn again. Hopefully they will become as obsolete as hooped skirts and bustles. That is my wish for a better tomorrow.🙏
I am the left boob on the right side.
See you next week, with any luck. Thank you for your notes. They lift me up. They provide comfort to my life and keep me writing.
You could only get on the island by ferry, so day-trippers were non-existent. The house was a gem. Our view was Portugal. Or at least the miles of open water leading to it. We now had two homes. And my cancer was in check. I was born to travel. Or so it seems. My parents had explored countries and we had lived in more than our share of homes. Perhaps, through genetics, my roots have been shallow. A house is a place to live. My home has been wherever I am. Kath has been part and parcel in our travels. We have loved each and every place we ever lived. And when she stepped foot on this island, for the first time, it captured her heart.
When Stephanie first visited 9 Scotch Bonnet, she was overwhelmed. As she looked out from the front window, she saw a group of dolphins swim by, near the shoreline. Out she ran, with Toby and Buddy, chasing them down the beach. She returned, apparently unable to catch them, but thrilled with the chase. She was grinning, and said to me that this place would add years to my life. Maybe it did.
My life was filled with business travel at that time (and most of my business life) and that summer, Kath and the dogs stayed at the beach, with me making appearances on the weekends, some of which I tacked on an extra day or two. She loved being with her boys, and never felt alone or worried with them by her side. The girls visited whenever they could, and so too, did a number of our friends, to enjoy some golf and to walk that beach. Our ritual was to take at least two long walks each day, summer and winter. Inclement weather was never an obstacle. Shoes were made obsolete.
We were living a life that I had never had the courage to dream of.
Our first year was idyllic. Kath and the doggos even hunkered down, by themselves, when a big storm came through. They could have bailed early and headed back to Tuscaloosa, but in a secret ballot vote, they apparently agreed to ride out the weather. Such was our appreciation of a house on this magical island.
Today
Other than through wars, has anyone alive ever lived in a more disruptive period? We have, after several months, seemingly absorbed the regulations and separation caused by Covid19. And then some stupid policeman kills a man for having a fraudulent $20 bill. It was a young black man. And then, the City of Minneapolis has dealt with the situation in the most preposterous of ways. No wonder there is outrage. Sadly, the concern for justice evaporated under the weight of violent and purposeless demonstrations and looting. Our country is on the edge of a slippery slope. We need to outstretch our hands in support of a peaceful resolution. Change is required. By the government, by the police, by those responsible for stealing and damaging property and by all of us who need to learn forgiveness and tolerance.
We have control over only a few things in our life. How much we love and care for people is totally ours to handle. If we all demonstrate our best selves to those around us, things might begin to fall into place. For everybody.
Kathleen is in good health, given her arthritis, and I am living la via loca. I have ripped open the newly forming skin covering my arm wound. Once on a cabinet door and next, closing the trunk on the car. That made it a bit messier and will hinder new skin growth. Aggravating, but not debilitating.
Hang in my friends. The ride is long and sometimes bumpy. But we will continue. Love to you all from the south. Hugs better make a comeback. I am planning to share our mutual bra-mask with Kath later on. She won't realize it is a trap until it is too late. We men should give thanks to the virus that caused bras to live alone in a dark drawer, not to be worn again. Hopefully they will become as obsolete as hooped skirts and bustles. That is my wish for a better tomorrow.🙏
See you next week, with any luck. Thank you for your notes. They lift me up. They provide comfort to my life and keep me writing.
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