"Does anyone have any questions?" The leader of the parent group looked out over the 200 Mom's and Dad's. I have a question--"Because my son has an issue with smoking weed, does that mean I can't have a beer around him?" God I was a ding dong. I asked the question that was on the mind of dozens of participants and I thought I had more courage than the rest because I asked the tough question. Courage or lack of brains. I didn't need to do any work. Of course not--my son was in no way affected by my conduct....right.
Spring ahead from 2004 to November 2009. This Saturday and Sunday I will be a speaker at the Wisconsin Challenge Academy Parent weekend. I am grateful that life has given me another opportunity to be part of the solution instead of continuing to be part of the problem. Telling the parents what it was like, what happened and what it's like today. The title of my presentation is taken from Aaron's words to me--"You Gotta Do Something About You. Now that this has happened, what are you going to do about you?"
Aaron and Patrick will be there with me.
Wisconsin Challenge Academy
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Tell Me How This Ends
I've never found a book to read. The book finds me.
A sure sign of the times is the amount of time I spend in a library. Big book stores were once a favorite destination, then half-price book stores, now the public library. They have their advantages--you can read the front page and the entire newspaper in a library. Internet too.
Library books are old compared to the book stores. New, fresh, best--those are the books of the big stores. In the astronomy section Pluto is a planet in the library. Both the borrower and the buyer are never far from a new or old book on JFK. Now that I'm older than the president of my earliest days the guy looks incredibly young.
I will slip out of the library without being found tonight. Is there so much going on in the world or is everything just getting too much attention? Everything seems to be at a crisis level. So much taking up sides. For a beer tax, against a beer tax. For Brett, against Brett. For Rush, against Rush. For health, against health. For war, against war. For America, against America. There is so little discussion and so much accusation. I have no interest in signing up for the war efforts. Wondering if I'm walking around the edges of life?
Tell me how this ends.
A sure sign of the times is the amount of time I spend in a library. Big book stores were once a favorite destination, then half-price book stores, now the public library. They have their advantages--you can read the front page and the entire newspaper in a library. Internet too.
Library books are old compared to the book stores. New, fresh, best--those are the books of the big stores. In the astronomy section Pluto is a planet in the library. Both the borrower and the buyer are never far from a new or old book on JFK. Now that I'm older than the president of my earliest days the guy looks incredibly young.
I will slip out of the library without being found tonight. Is there so much going on in the world or is everything just getting too much attention? Everything seems to be at a crisis level. So much taking up sides. For a beer tax, against a beer tax. For Brett, against Brett. For Rush, against Rush. For health, against health. For war, against war. For America, against America. There is so little discussion and so much accusation. I have no interest in signing up for the war efforts. Wondering if I'm walking around the edges of life?
Tell me how this ends.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
And Then the Laughter Dies
Marijuana gets a free pass and Woodstock is cultural iconic event. Young people are enthralled with the '60's. What are we do as responsible adults? We capitalize. We make a buck on the new audience. Movies, books, shirts, clothes. And then we pay the price of our capitulation.
Weed is cool right? If I say "pot" I show my age and my un-hipness. Bob Marley is hip. Ziggy's hip. Hemp is in. Why is hemp in? Hemp is scratchy, hemps smells when it's wet. Hemp is weed.
Hemp wasn't cool when weed was killing my son. I don't like hemp. Glamorizing pot consumption and profiteering on the nostalgia of drug culture for entertainment is disrespectful. People die and we laugh at the pot head culture.
I don't find entertainment in drug culture. A pot head is not funny. Distributing weed is not a minor transgression against society because it is participating in the destruction of a human being, a soul, and a family. That's disgusting.
One of the most horrific moments of a funeral is when the lid of the casket is closed and sealed for the last time. I remember seeing my son's face for the first time at the exact moment of his birth. I saw his face when the casket closed. And that's when the laughter dies.
Weed is cool right? If I say "pot" I show my age and my un-hipness. Bob Marley is hip. Ziggy's hip. Hemp is in. Why is hemp in? Hemp is scratchy, hemps smells when it's wet. Hemp is weed.
Hemp wasn't cool when weed was killing my son. I don't like hemp. Glamorizing pot consumption and profiteering on the nostalgia of drug culture for entertainment is disrespectful. People die and we laugh at the pot head culture.
I don't find entertainment in drug culture. A pot head is not funny. Distributing weed is not a minor transgression against society because it is participating in the destruction of a human being, a soul, and a family. That's disgusting.
One of the most horrific moments of a funeral is when the lid of the casket is closed and sealed for the last time. I remember seeing my son's face for the first time at the exact moment of his birth. I saw his face when the casket closed. And that's when the laughter dies.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Patience. Tolerance. Humility.
A coroner could be expected to be callous. In a county the size of Dane the coroner must attest to several hundred deaths each year. The grace of God is not that the person is able to do the job at all, but that he or she is able bring compassion to the duty day in and day out. John Stanley was such a man. Blessed with grace he did God's work for years and soothed the misery of thousands of people when the need was the greatest.
I had heard from people who had lost a son or daughter to a traffic crash or accident. A common theme was the grace of the man who delivered the news accompanied by uniformed officers. The man was John Stanley.
When Aaron was killed the wheels of public service turned differently with a person other than John involved. Without compassionate and mercy, grief was wratcheted to horror by an employee doing a job by the book. Time demanded haste so rumors could be set in stone. No personal visit. An urgent phone call, time is running...we must not wait, your son is dead, what do you think? This is what we think. OK, let's talk about autopsy and of course organ donation.
Grief and horror are a potent concoction for furious anger when simmered. The following week John Stanley came into the picture. His calm and care filled manner set us at ease when he walked up to our house. We expressed our feelings, John listened and made an amends for his staff. No excuses. No blame. A heartfelt apology and a promise to do his part to put the rumors to rest and return a measure of dignity to our son. John was doing his job and God's work in our home. Patience, tolerance, and humility. I will always remember what John showed by being the man he was.
Rest in Peace, John Stanley. You carried God into the homes of broken people.
I had heard from people who had lost a son or daughter to a traffic crash or accident. A common theme was the grace of the man who delivered the news accompanied by uniformed officers. The man was John Stanley.
When Aaron was killed the wheels of public service turned differently with a person other than John involved. Without compassionate and mercy, grief was wratcheted to horror by an employee doing a job by the book. Time demanded haste so rumors could be set in stone. No personal visit. An urgent phone call, time is running...we must not wait, your son is dead, what do you think? This is what we think. OK, let's talk about autopsy and of course organ donation.
Grief and horror are a potent concoction for furious anger when simmered. The following week John Stanley came into the picture. His calm and care filled manner set us at ease when he walked up to our house. We expressed our feelings, John listened and made an amends for his staff. No excuses. No blame. A heartfelt apology and a promise to do his part to put the rumors to rest and return a measure of dignity to our son. John was doing his job and God's work in our home. Patience, tolerance, and humility. I will always remember what John showed by being the man he was.
Rest in Peace, John Stanley. You carried God into the homes of broken people.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Fade to Black
Walking, talking, laughing, pontificating and then silence. April, and May 2001 Aaron, Zach, Eric, Justin--four friends captured on video a few days in the life. Patrick and his buds make appearances. Mom and Dad show their charm. School was almost over. The boys would be turning 14 and 15 in days. Skate boards, movies, video games, jobs, life was easy for the fellas.
Patrick and Cathy have begun the inevitable journey through the video archives. They went in first. Patrick reported to me that the road was safe and fun. Not painful. I took my place on the couch in Patrick's re-decorated basement rec room. A much more comfortable couch. The instant I heard Aaron's voice, his dialect I got tears. His mannerisms were there, his smile, his facial expressions, the ear twisting, nose scrunching. Everything that doesn't show up on still photos. There he was. His mind worked in way unique to Aaron. I can't describe it. But I saw it again and remembered.
Equipped with the video camera Aaron took us on a tour of life through his eyes and I am incredibly sad. Aaron is behind the camera, he puts in on his friends, people passing by, his brother and friends, and himself. Thank God he did that. I need to see his eyes. I need to hear his perspective. Looking into the camera Aaron gives advice to Movie and Video game makers--"If you're gonna do a sequel----Don't do it! They're stupid. It's dumb."
The video turned into art without anyone trying. At one point Aaron and Zach are downloading music and Billy Joel's Only The Good Die Young comes on. The boys are singing along, Aaron with the camera on himself sings the words "Only The Good Die Young" abd then he turns off the camera. After a few more episodes of Aaron and Zach the story reaches an ending on May 4 2001 with a sleep over at our house. Zach, Eric, Aaron. In the kitchen "Cathy says Aaron this is your last Thursday being 13." Zach chimes in--"This is my last Thursday being 14." Much chatter and fun. Then the camera goes off as if the story ends.
After a pause of a few moments the camera is recording again. The date is November 3, 2003. The lens is pointing into a cushion. Just black scene but you can hear a television at a low volume. Footsteps can be heard walking past the camera and up the stairs...the voices on the tube are adult. No young boys. There are no sounds of laughter. No banter. No levity. No innocence. Just black.
I despise how drugs steal young people. Drugs steal the innocence, the soul, the youth. Aaron didn't die from the drug. He had regained that youthful vigor for a while. Maybe he could have continued one day at a time. We don't know. One day laughing, pontificating, telling stories...then dead. Fade to black.
I want Aaron to make the sequel.
Patrick and Cathy have begun the inevitable journey through the video archives. They went in first. Patrick reported to me that the road was safe and fun. Not painful. I took my place on the couch in Patrick's re-decorated basement rec room. A much more comfortable couch. The instant I heard Aaron's voice, his dialect I got tears. His mannerisms were there, his smile, his facial expressions, the ear twisting, nose scrunching. Everything that doesn't show up on still photos. There he was. His mind worked in way unique to Aaron. I can't describe it. But I saw it again and remembered.
Equipped with the video camera Aaron took us on a tour of life through his eyes and I am incredibly sad. Aaron is behind the camera, he puts in on his friends, people passing by, his brother and friends, and himself. Thank God he did that. I need to see his eyes. I need to hear his perspective. Looking into the camera Aaron gives advice to Movie and Video game makers--"If you're gonna do a sequel----Don't do it! They're stupid. It's dumb."
The video turned into art without anyone trying. At one point Aaron and Zach are downloading music and Billy Joel's Only The Good Die Young comes on. The boys are singing along, Aaron with the camera on himself sings the words "Only The Good Die Young" abd then he turns off the camera. After a few more episodes of Aaron and Zach the story reaches an ending on May 4 2001 with a sleep over at our house. Zach, Eric, Aaron. In the kitchen "Cathy says Aaron this is your last Thursday being 13." Zach chimes in--"This is my last Thursday being 14." Much chatter and fun. Then the camera goes off as if the story ends.
After a pause of a few moments the camera is recording again. The date is November 3, 2003. The lens is pointing into a cushion. Just black scene but you can hear a television at a low volume. Footsteps can be heard walking past the camera and up the stairs...the voices on the tube are adult. No young boys. There are no sounds of laughter. No banter. No levity. No innocence. Just black.
I despise how drugs steal young people. Drugs steal the innocence, the soul, the youth. Aaron didn't die from the drug. He had regained that youthful vigor for a while. Maybe he could have continued one day at a time. We don't know. One day laughing, pontificating, telling stories...then dead. Fade to black.
I want Aaron to make the sequel.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Living the Dream
"I don't understand why we have to have money! Why can't people just get along!!" Aaron's frustration with life demands and expectations burdened his mind and troubled his days. Talented professionals took their turns exploring Aaron's mind, maybe some of them have an idea if Aaron was on to something or avoiding some things.
At sixteen Aaron exploded with exclamations like "I hate you. I never want to be like you!" With the mind of a dad who thought making a buck and showing up for events was enough I gave my sons a view of a persona they would have good reason to despise. Everything they had learned to be avoided I personified--ego driven, money driven, resentful, dissatisfied. Aaron's shouting was heard by me as disrespectful behavior when I should have heard the sound of a son's bewilderment and fear. Bewildered by the contradiction in my words and actions and fear of being on a road leading to death of a soul. Anyone with a healthy mind and an image of a peaceful existence would be wise to resist the mandatory boarding of a train to no where.
When Aaron was 7 I made up a long story for a longer car ride---The Man in Black. "Tell me a scary story Dad....tell it again." The story won me Aaron's Best award. It was never forgotten, often told, and always accomplished his goal--it scared him. The Man in Black wandered dark train stations of rural America in the late 1800's on the prowl for little kids traveling alone. In an unsuspecting instant, the curious kid would tumble into the Man's over sized suitcase and SLAM!! Gone without a trace...I believe the young adult Aaron saw the world as the Man in Black on the prowl for unsuspecting humans. The world would steal hopes, dreams, visions of happiness, and souls---the true self would become the annoyed, distracted, irritable adult who worried and traded peace for chaos. SLAM!
I don't know where Aaron would be today. I like to wonder because I don't think he was afraid of living his idea. Maybe I would have learned to accept him for who he was, maybe I would not have. We can't know.
Knowing what I know because I have lived what has been, I am pleased to hear from people who are going their way. In the last week a young man told me how he left his HR position to follow his heart and restart his photography business. A friend of Aaron's is moving east to pursue her drawing passion. A young man chose to go to rehab to free himself. I've witnessed Aaron's brother display his values and seen him living humbly. Gone is reckless ego, replaced with peaceful eyes and a heart filled with acceptance.
I see people choosing more often to do what they are able to bring joy to. They are being what they want to be as opposed to doing what they think society will most reward. Is this typical or a result of the catastrophic demise of a period of financial gluttony? It appears to me that the depression has powerful life saving attributes.
Months after Aaron died I began to understand Aaron's frustration and words he used to articulate his pain. They were the best he could come up with from what he had. When Aaron was 3 or 4 he would get mad at us and stammer "Mom (or Dad)you, you bug you! As a toddler, Bug was probably his best word for putting someone down for denying him something of pleasure. As a teenager, "Hate you" was his cry of refusal to accept what I had become as his fate. He hated, feared,despised being trapped and lost forever. Aaron did not want to lose his youthful hope. Peter Pan was no different.
I heard from one of Aaron's friends that he heard from Aaron in dreams where Aaron is encouraging his friends to pursue their dreams. Makes sense. There is no peace and promise of happiness in any endeavor---they are found in ourselves and we are always free to bring them to the work we do. Money is not necessary when we live with less expectations.
At sixteen Aaron exploded with exclamations like "I hate you. I never want to be like you!" With the mind of a dad who thought making a buck and showing up for events was enough I gave my sons a view of a persona they would have good reason to despise. Everything they had learned to be avoided I personified--ego driven, money driven, resentful, dissatisfied. Aaron's shouting was heard by me as disrespectful behavior when I should have heard the sound of a son's bewilderment and fear. Bewildered by the contradiction in my words and actions and fear of being on a road leading to death of a soul. Anyone with a healthy mind and an image of a peaceful existence would be wise to resist the mandatory boarding of a train to no where.
When Aaron was 7 I made up a long story for a longer car ride---The Man in Black. "Tell me a scary story Dad....tell it again." The story won me Aaron's Best award. It was never forgotten, often told, and always accomplished his goal--it scared him. The Man in Black wandered dark train stations of rural America in the late 1800's on the prowl for little kids traveling alone. In an unsuspecting instant, the curious kid would tumble into the Man's over sized suitcase and SLAM!! Gone without a trace...I believe the young adult Aaron saw the world as the Man in Black on the prowl for unsuspecting humans. The world would steal hopes, dreams, visions of happiness, and souls---the true self would become the annoyed, distracted, irritable adult who worried and traded peace for chaos. SLAM!
I don't know where Aaron would be today. I like to wonder because I don't think he was afraid of living his idea. Maybe I would have learned to accept him for who he was, maybe I would not have. We can't know.
Knowing what I know because I have lived what has been, I am pleased to hear from people who are going their way. In the last week a young man told me how he left his HR position to follow his heart and restart his photography business. A friend of Aaron's is moving east to pursue her drawing passion. A young man chose to go to rehab to free himself. I've witnessed Aaron's brother display his values and seen him living humbly. Gone is reckless ego, replaced with peaceful eyes and a heart filled with acceptance.
I see people choosing more often to do what they are able to bring joy to. They are being what they want to be as opposed to doing what they think society will most reward. Is this typical or a result of the catastrophic demise of a period of financial gluttony? It appears to me that the depression has powerful life saving attributes.
Months after Aaron died I began to understand Aaron's frustration and words he used to articulate his pain. They were the best he could come up with from what he had. When Aaron was 3 or 4 he would get mad at us and stammer "Mom (or Dad)you, you bug you! As a toddler, Bug was probably his best word for putting someone down for denying him something of pleasure. As a teenager, "Hate you" was his cry of refusal to accept what I had become as his fate. He hated, feared,despised being trapped and lost forever. Aaron did not want to lose his youthful hope. Peter Pan was no different.
I heard from one of Aaron's friends that he heard from Aaron in dreams where Aaron is encouraging his friends to pursue their dreams. Makes sense. There is no peace and promise of happiness in any endeavor---they are found in ourselves and we are always free to bring them to the work we do. Money is not necessary when we live with less expectations.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Just a Peak
That's all I want...just a peak at Aaron at 22. I saw a cousin's 22 year old son on Saturday. He looked healthy and content. Patrick is 18 and he's got it going on...healthy, insightful, calm and content. From what I saw for a few days at 18 I think Aaron would be just fine today.
There are no peaks in the valley of death. Aaron is gone. Gone is incomprehensible because I just saw all of the relatives who knew him laughing, talking, caring on. "Wild child" he was called at an age old enough to run and kick. Kristopher and Amanda called him Wild Child. Kristopher is gone too. Amanda is 24 and she's left to tell the story. Too cruel. At a family reunion the 76 and 80 something family elders told stories of their siblings and cousins. Seven full decades is acceptable to be a story telling survivor.
Unseen or forgotten photos make my heart race and my tears flush. I found one of those pictures on my sister's wall this afternoon. I remember when the picture was taken--9/8/01 according to the note from the photographer. A young fellow taking pics at a Badger football game was in front of AJ and me that Saturday. We leaned on the fence in the south end zone at Camp Randall. I asked the guy about his work and he offered to take our picture. Two photos arrived in the mail one day with a note about memories. Signed--Peace, love, and happiness. Major Latimer.
I like the picture. We're smiling. We were having a father and son day. I'm grateful for the peak back at a time that should have stood still.
Photo by Major Latimer. www.myspace.com/majorlatimer
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