Why?

My cousin, Rick Newman, died yesterday in Hawaii.  He was 29 and had his whole life ahead of  him.  He was a good looking kid (not a man, to me, but a kid), smart, charismatic with an infectious smile and a great sense of humor.  

Although an autopsy has been performed, the toxicology report won't be back for a few weeks.  His parents suspect alcohol was involved, as Rick has been battling an addiction to alcohol for at least a couple of years.  That was his dark side, a side I never saw, because I didn't have the opportunity to spend much time with him, in person, over the years since he and his family lived in Phoenix and, more recently, Hawaii.  I regret that, now, and I wonder if I could have made a difference in his life if I had established a closer relationship with him.

I've always had a great affinity for Rick and his younger brother, Rob, because of my relationship with their father, Dave Newman.  Dave is my father's younger brother (my uncle) and I've always felt closer to my father through my relationship with Dave.  My heart goes out to Dave, Renee (his wife) and Rob and I wish there was something I could say or do to ease their pain.

My mom, my sister and I traveled to Akron, Ohio, in June 2009 to attend Rick's wedding.  We almost didn't make the trip, but ultimately decided to drive over and we were so glad we did.  It ended up being one of those perfect weekends - the kind you can't plan - they just happen organically.  It was so great to see several members of my dad's side of the family - people we rarely get to see.  For me, as is and was always the case, it was like I had never away from Dave and his sons, Rick and Rob.  We just picked up where we left off the last time I had seen them, giving each other grief, laughing and having fun.

Rick was in phenomenal shape and my enduring memory - one I'll cherish for the rest of my life - was going for a long run with Rick and a friend on a trail along the Cuyahoga River on the morning of the wedding.  Rick fully intended to run me into the ground, but I turned the tables on him and he had to stop and walk by the end of the run.  He was surprised that his "old" cousin, over the age of 40, could outrun him, even though I had warned him to watch out for the "old" guys.  I kidded him about it the rest of the weekend, but I treasured the time we spend together on that long run, just running, talking and running.  It was already a top 20, all time, run for me, and now it's a run I'll remember and treasure forever.

Alcoholism is such an insidious disease.  It's reach, unfortunately, is limitless.  Rich, poor, young, old, it doesn't matter.  And now it's taken Rick, far too soon.

I'm rambling, I know.  It's hard to understand why something like this happens.  The real pain, I think, is in wondering what you could have done differently or what could have happened that might have resulted in a different outcome.  The reality, though, harsh as it is, is that Dave and Renee (and Rob) did everything they could have possibly done for Rick.  He had their support and their love but, in the end, he wasn't able to help himself.  I can't explain it and I can't rationalize what happened.  I sure as hell can't understand why Rick died.  Something like this tests one's faith, no doubt, but all I an do is pray for Rick and pray for Dave, Renee and Rob.

Rick was a good kid - a wonderful kid - who did a lot of living in 29 years.  I only wish he had more time.

Dave, Rick and Rob Newman at Rick's wedding in Akron, Ohio, in June 2009.

  

Plagued

It's late and I'm sitting in my camping chair, on our front porch, underneath the icicle lights we hung today to mark the official beginning of Christmas Season at our house.  It's unseasonably warm, as is has been as of late, but the wind is gusting ahead of rain and colder temperatures set to arrive tomorrow.

This morning, we took J.P. to the doctor.  He's been battling a cough for at least a week.  It's worse at night  and it breaks my heart when he wakes up coughing and crying.  It makes me feel like I'm failing him somehow, because I can't make him feel better.  This morning, early, he looked up at me, crying, and said, "Daddy, why can't stop coughing."  I could hear my heart breaking.  Audibly.

Jude's sick with a cold, too, which doesn't help matters.  I feel terrible for her, too, because she can't really take any medicine (not that she would anyway) since she's pregnant.  I can't imagine anything more uncomfortable than being six months pregnant and having a sore throat and runny nose.  Still, she fights through it because that's just her nature.  Impervious to that which would cause the rest of us to complain.

Our doctor prescribed some cough medicine for J.P., but when we read the fine print on the prescription (warnings, possible side effects, etc.) we got scared and gave him a teaspoon of the over-the-counter cough medicine we've tried before.  I hope he sleeps a little better tonight.

Ever since he started school this fall, it seems like he's had one cold after another.  From what I read, that's normal, as he's exposed to other children (and their germs) on a daily basis.  When he was with our nanny, Carley, every day, he wasn't around other children regularly and, consequently, he never got sick.  Hopefully, he'll build up his immunities and when he starts kindergarten in two or three years, he won't have to deal with this anymore.  That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.

That kind of brings me around to the point of this post.  Three years ago today, my longtime friend, Benton, lost his daughter, Elizabeth, to an insidious disease after a relatively brief two week illness.  Elizabeth was a  senior in high school with her life ahead of her.  She was athletic, smart, funny and extremely popular, just like her father and mother.  She also was an only child.  She was her mother's best friend.  Her death wrecked Benton and Carrie.  They've persevered but I know they're struggling this weekend.

They're in my thoughts and prayers often, but especially this weekend.  Thanksgiving weekend.  My son is sick with a cold and I'm sick with worry.  In the scheme of things, as I think about Benton and Carrie and what they have been through and are going through, my worries seem rather insignificant.

Rest in Peace, Elizabeth, and know you are loved and remembered today and always.

Jude's cousin, Rebecca White, and J.P. at Thanksgiving.

Maddie and Colton (a.k.a. "Cletus") White.

"VU Jane" and "Uncle Johnny"

Two Peas in a Pod

Jude and her cousin, Colleen Blanchard, at the White Family Thanksgiving Dinner (Actually, there are two  peas in Colleen's pod - twins.  One pea in Jude's pod).

Bird Feeders

Jude and J.P. filling up the bird feeders for the first time this year.

Chasing the Leaves

Tuesday morning, before work, I was cooking bacon for JP's breakfast when I looked out into the backyard and saw leaves falling like snow.  I was excited, because one of my favorite pasttimes in the fall in trying to catch falling leaves.  It's tough, obviously, because like snowflakes, all leaves are slightly different and, as a result, they fall differently from the trees.  Some fall straight down, but most are caught by the wind and change directions several times before landing on the ground.

As Carley arrived at the house (JP's school was closed for parent-teacher conferences), J.P. and I were in the front yard, staring up into the branches of our stately old maple tree.  Every minute or so, a breeze would ruffle the branches and leaves would begin to fall.  J.P. would squeal with delight, then take off running to catch a falling leaf.  He was having so much fun, I couldn't help but smile as I watched him.

Jude came outside and walked to her car, prepared to head to work.  When she saw how much fun we were having, she set her work stuff down in her car and joined us in the yard to chase leaves.  I went inside and grabbed the video camera so I could capture the moment for posterity.  It was awesome, just watching Jude, J.P. and Carley chasing the falling leaves, laughing the whole time.  Even after Jude left for work, I just sat on the front porch for a few minutes and watched J.P. and Carley.  It was a morning I didn't want to ever end.

Pumpkin Puke

I've always wanted to carve a pumpkin like this.  For Halloween this year, I did.  Oh, and J.P. really liked it, by the way.

Blessed

Blessed.  That's what I am.

Jude and I had another ultrasound this morning - 23 weeks - and everything looks great.  Our soon to be born son measured about 25 weeks and is in the 96th percentile in size, which is really, really good news.  That's almost exactly where J.P. was at this stage of the game.

During the ultrasound, he was active, rolling around, grabbing his toes and opening and closing his mouth. It's truly amazing to be able to see him in such detail and to realize that right there, Jude is carrying our new son in her womb.  Watching the ultrasound, our eyes riveted on the screen, it's an intensely emotional and personal experience for both of us.  We sit there, in silence, waiting for any sign or word from the ultrasound technician that what she is seeing is what she is supposed to be seeing.  If she's not talking much - liked she wasn't at first today - our minds begin to race, infused with doubt.  Then, when she tells us everything looks great - like she did today - our hearts soar with relief.

While the journey is somehow different this time around, the emotions are largely the same at certain points, like today.  When I see our son on the screen - his arms, legs, hands and feet - I'm again struck by the miracle of life.  We're not there yet and we have some distance left to travel on this journey, but I think I can almost see, ahead in the distance, our destination.  We're going to get there, one day at a time.  

Trails

This morning, I returned to Percy Warner Park for another run on one of the horse trails there.  It was an exquisite fall morning, rolling fog and temperatures in the low to mid-40's.  There was a flurry of activity at the entrance to the park on Belle Meade Boulevard, a melange of walkers, runners and bikers.  

I've enjoyed running on the horse trails the last two weekends, in part because I haven't run them before and it's a little bit of an adventure to run where I haven't run before.  There's the fear of getting lost, which in my case, is a legitimate fear (I've gotten lost in Percy Warner Park before, although that was almost 20 years ago).  Plus, the trails are fairly hilly and technically difficult, given that the carpet of falling leaves covers roots and loose rocks.

I only saw one other runner on the horse trail this morning, so I was able to enjoy my run in solitude, alone with my iPod and the random songs from my music library playing on it.  The scenery along the horse trail on which I was running was almost breathtakingly beautiful, bright sunshine burning off the fog and illuminating the gold leaves on the path that had changed color and fallen from the trees.  

A couple of miles into the run, I sensed movement to my right, just off the trail.  I looked over and was almost face to face with an 8-point buck.  He just stood there, placidly, and stared at me, maybe 10 feet away.  I chuckled to myself, said hello and kept running.  I turned around at the 3-mile mark and on the run back to the trail head, I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye, moving overhead.  I looked up in time to see a large owl swoop majestically in the sky above me, then land in a tree nearby.  I stopped and looked up at the owl (I really, really like owls) and he looked right back at me until I continued on my way.  Near the end of my run, I saw a doe just off the trail.  Again, she didn't run away from me.  She just stood and stared at me as I ran by her.

I finished my run by galloping down the ancient, steep, stone stairs to the entrance to the park, John Prine's "Lake Marie" playing on my iPod.  A good way to end a top 20 run, the kind of run I search for all year long when I lace up my running shoes and head out the door.  I'm lucky to find 5 of those types of runs a year and I'm blessed to have found one this morning.

Musicology

On the way home from a late night trip to Kroger this evening, I listened to the Avett Brothers' "Left on Laura, Left on Lisa."  It's a fantastic song and, tonight especially, I couldn't help but smile as I listened to it.      I was struck, really struck by that song the very first time I heard it.  I immediately knew the Avett Brothers would be a band I would love.  And I do.

More importantly, J.P. quickly fell in love with the Avett Brothers, too.  First, it was "Left on Laura, Left on Lisa," which he calls "the sad song."  Later, it was "I and Love and You" and "Die Die Die."  At any given time, actually, he's really into a different Avett Brothers' song, which he asks me to play over and over again as we drive to school in the mornings.

That song, in particular, makes me smile, because I can vividly recall driving around the neighborhood when he first heard it, just listening to it, together.  He didn't want me to take us home.  He just wanted to drive around and listen to "Left on Laura, Left on Lisa."  The cool thing is he loved the song independently of anything I told him.  He heard it, liked it and asked me to play it . . . again and again and again.  The fact that we both loved the same song makes me feel there is something in our "musical DNA" that makes us enjoy the same type of music.  I'll have to see if that holds true when he's a teenager.