Three of Spades -- It Was a Crazy Game of Poker

Aaron's wallet contained, as best I remember, the following:

• About $110.00
• A Birthday check from his Uncle Dave and Aunt Stacy
• His brand new driver's license (18th birthday)
• A Three of Spades playing card

The wallet was actually my very old and beaten faded brown leather wallet which was given to me long ago. Probably a Christmas or birthday gift. A new wallet, a gift from Cathy, Aaron and Patrick for my 46th birthday, made the old one expendable. Aaron wanted it. He liked the way it looked. (Patrick carries that wallet today.)

What the heck was the meaning of the three of spades? That mystery troubled me in the first few weeks. I feared, (Aaron would say "figures") the card had some connection to something displeasing. Or, ("yeah right") I wished, it was simply a good luck symbol. I was more troubled ("of course") than wishful. The friends of Aaron's who I asked about the card had no idea. If there was a significance, it was not going to be known to me. Just as well I concluded.

OAR was a favorite band of Aaron's. Aaron and his friend Erik "Doc" ("Trust me, I'm a doctor. I know about these things.")Leonhart drove to Milwaukee last March or April to see their first big-time concert as free wheeling teenagers. I remember Aaron coming to our room sometime after midnight soooo excited about the experience. Aaron wanted to talk and talk about the night. The combination of all that goes with a concert...in a big city, with NEW people, and your great friend combined with the freedom to be home again and a teenager with parent trust was euphoric for The Air Bear. We were thankful that he was safe and home, but also so pleased that he was enjoying himself in a safe way.

Earlier this month, Patrick and two of his friends attended OAR concert in Madison. OAR has a song about a poker game. The mystery of the 3 of Spades was resolved last week when Patrick informed me that I should have asked him about Aaron's card. When OAR plays "A Crazy Game of Poker" playing cards are tossed in the audience. Aaron latched on to a 3 of Spades. Patrick came home from his night of OAR with a King of ??. How about that. Another question about Aaron's last weeks resolved with a show of innocence. I love that boy. Both of them.

Here's the song:

OAR - That Was A Crazy Game Of Poker Lyrics

My twenty thrown down in my fist of rage
And the man to my left just folded down
Johnny doubled up with a Royal Flush
I had three jacks and a pair of nines
My mind is turning just two shots more
There's not much left to play
Then dude walks in Black hat on top, what a mop
I'm lucky it wasn't a county cop, cause I'm just running out of
time
Who's up for game two, what to do?
My wallets getting thin and I just lost my watch last night
I got a problem, just one answer got to throw it all down
And kiss it goodbye
That was a crazy game of poker
I lost it all
But someday I'll be back again
And I'm never to fall
Never to fall
Who's up for game three?
I can barely see the bourbon drowning next to me
And I just lost it all
Well there's a man sitting next to me
Red with smiling eyes
It's funny I don't have no money tonight.
That was a crazy game of poker
I lost it all
But someday I'll be back again
And I'm never to fall
Never to fall
Bada biba... ... ...
I say now skitili dat dat dat well how bout that
I'm coming out the front never coming out the back
I walked into the bar yesterday
Cause I had something to do, something to say
And Johnny walked in right behind me and
I didn't turn around
Until I hear the sound of his feet falling
On the ground, looked over my shoulder
And I saw a clown
And I said what are you doing in the bar tonight?
And I said Johnny whatcha doing tonight?
He looked at me with a face full of fright
And I said how about a revolution?
And he said , right.
I say of, you say a, I say revolution, and you say Jah 2x
And I said what are you looking at?
He hit me across the face with a bat.
I grabbed my .45 and I said let's get out and go
Well so he opened the door, and said "now, whatcha here for?"
I said I'm wanderin' down the road 44
And I said I've been walking for about a thousand years
And my feet are growing tired
My eyes a little wired
Don't know what to do unless I retire
And he just said let's play some crazy poker
And I said Johnny whatcha doing tonight?
He looked at me with a face full of fright
And I said how about a revolution?
And he said right.
I said that was the craziest game of poker that I ever saw
I said that was the craziest game of poker that I ever saw
But Im not gonna quit and I'm not gonna stop
I don't give a shit cause I got the drop
Johnny just got two eyes just like mine
And I'm feeling kind of funky, kinda fine
Cause I drank a bottle of whiskey before I came
Came to the bar to see what's the same
I saw my man named Johnny sitting across the table from
And to my left was a man he had no gin
He didn't even think about starting to sin
The man to my right, wasn't feeling very nice
He looked kinda mad and I felt bad
Because I took his money last night
Now I'm just struggling
I need a honey bunny
I don't know what to say anymore
So Im just going to go out the front door.

Peace,

Tom

Arctic Snow

Cold fresh snow, blue skies, woods, and clear water are peace. Snow frozen by below zero arctic air has a density slightly more than air. Clean, sharp, crunchy-soft, a booted foot passes through 6 inches of the powder with ease and comes out snow-less and dry. This brand of snow sticks to nothing. I like it.

Doc, my 8 1/2 month old Chesapeake Bay retriever, and I took a 3 hour walk at Mud Lake today. We covered miles of trials. We made some of our own over frozen ponds and cut through thick woods by wondering toll free on a well worn deer trail. One place I discovered last fall, and is a favorite of mine now, is a place I call "Canoe-Pond". Two circular bodies of water are connected by a long wide channel, forming what I'm certain looks like a birch bark canoe from above. Cathy can't see it but I do. In the fall I found, at the narrowest part, a series of rocks placed a step apart and just right to walk on water from one shore to the other. Until proven otherwise I like to think the rocks were placed by native hunters 200 years ago.

With the sun shining down and the light wind blocked by the thick trees, Canoe-Pond was warm and peaceful. Doc and I left the only tracks on the pond. We rested under a giant oak...I call it "The Spooky Old Tree", but actually the pond has three Spooky Old Trees. That's a name from Aaron's first favorite book about The Bernstein Bears.

Continuing our hike back on the logging road, we arrived at a place where the water runs through a big culvert, spills into a swirling pond and then meanders through the woods and meadow into another wetlands. I decided this was a perfect place to send greetings to Aaron. The edge of the river was bordered by woods and an eight foot bank. A pile of dried oak leaves lit by the Zippo Aaron gave to me years ago for Father's Day produced a sweet smoke. The Northwest wind took the smoke, whirled it around the hollow, covered Doc, me, and the open water like a blessing, and whisked it off to the Southeast. As the smoke made its journey I thanked Aaron for all that he taught me during his journey on earth and wished him well in his adventures. I promised Aaron that I will live my life continuing our bonds and honoring his respect for nature.

Doc and I headed for home and made a quick stop at the local hardware store. A young lady working the cash register rang up my purchase. She used my last name and I asked how she knew my name as I had not given it to her. She said "I knew Aaron." I wish I would have asked what she remembers about Aaron. I could use some new memories.

Peace
Tom

Treadin' Trodden Trails

A truly humble person rarely stumbles , he contended, because such a person walks with his face toward the Earth and therefore can see the path ahead.
--Grandpa Albert, Lakota Elder

Walking With Grandfather by Joseph M. Marshall III is my present favorite read. My wise elder sister Carol gave it to me for a birthday gift. She knows the significance of Lakota traditions in Aaron's life. He passed his experience on to us by introducing the native sweat lodge ceremony to me in January last year. Carol, Cathy, myself, and several friends participated in a sweat ceremony for Aaron a week after his death. Madison is fortunate to have a wise family who continue the sacred ceremonies of the native people. I was blessed to be invited to a ceremony in January, just days after Aaron arrived home from Mount Bachelor. He was thrilled to be able to attend with his Dad. I was impressed with his knowledge of the tradition and how well he communicated with the people who carry on the tradition of their ancestors.

What stayed with me this last year about the tradition is its power. Nothing I ever experienced in our traditions and religious practice left me feeling so close to God, or the Lakota word Wakantanka which might be translated to the "Great Mystery". In the native cultures there is no first or last, no higher or lower form of life on the earth. All forms of life have a place in the circle of life. The great equalizer is life and death. And death is embraced.

I was driving home from Green Lake two days ago. I passed many places where Aaron and I had paddled our canoe, hunted ducks, and walked in the woods. Footprints crossed my mind. What happened to Aaron's footprints? Aaron's shoes, which haven't been claimed by Patrick, still have earth in the soles. I wondered if the earth preserved any of Aaron's footprints. Later that day I started my new book. On page 24, Wakantanka answered my question: The tracks we leave on the land will disappear over time. The tracks we leave in the hearts and minds of others will never fade. I cherish hearing from my Aaron.

Months ago I wrote about my admiration and respect for well written thoughts. I'd like to finish this post with words that speak to me from my son, by Joseph Marshall III:

There are many trails on the overall journey that is life, and there are many who travel a trail with us, sometimes briefly. But all the travelers we encounter on our journey have something to teach us...

...I think he was going home, wherever that was. Though we had given him sustenance and comfort, and he was grateful to us for that, his greater loyalty-and love- he led for someone or something else. I believe in my heart that he finally did make it home...

...I think he came to us because he needed us, but he also brought us a gift...

Walking humbly,

Tom

The title, Treadin' Trodden Trails is a verse from Dave Mathews, not my creation.

Understanding Aaron With Help From Emerson

Behind us as we go, all things assume pleasing forms, as clouds do far off. Not only things familiar and stale, but even the tragic and terrible are comely, as they take their place in the pictures of memory. - Spiritual Laws, Ralph Waldo Emerson

The terrible days of the late summer and fall of 2003 took their place in the landscape of memory. From a distance and in comparison, the war waged against life and death from drugs, deceit, and recklessness were becoming less threatening than clouds. Until last week.

In December 2003 we literally pulled Aaron out of the clutches of death in the darkest hour of the night and hustled him 2000 miles away to a safe place in Oregon. We lived for 13 months without Aaron around a few weekly phone calls, a quarterly trip out for a two day visit, and two-one week home visits. In the nine months since Aaron died, I have had the deep thought about was it the right thing to do. Should we have continued the battle on the home front? Would Aaron have pulled out of the spiral on his own? Was it worth it?

On February 9th, I witnessed an event attended by some of the players from 2003. These players are losing the war. They're losing their opportunity. They're losing their rich minds. As a friend of mine said of a similar struggle, "Pain is the price you pay and the seeds you sow when you pursue self-centered pleasure." I've done that too. With help from Aaron I began to change my life. These warriors can do the same.

The days of darkness are no longer faded into beauty in my mind. The sharp, jagged edges, temporarily dulled by a file of contrast, cut deep into my heart again. Seeing the shattered remains, hearing the self deceit tinged voices of the walking wounded brought the ugliness into full focus. Broken and breaking dreams litter the roads and cemetaries.

On Tuesday, February 7th, I talked to friend of Aaron's who walked the walk with him. I was wondering if my memory of Aaron had faded into a fantasy. Was the Aaron I remembered just what was left after I scrubbed the memory clean? This young man knew only the post Mount Bachelor Aaron. He never saw the high school athlete, the up and down high school student, the confused, angry teenager in the middle of the war. This friend knew Aaron the way he was. He told me Aaron was about living a healthy life. A high from drugs was a temptation, not a passion. Aaron stumbled a couple of times after MBA but he didn't stay down. His friend recalled how Aaron was dissapointed in himself for succumbing to temptation. But, he noted, Aaron knew exactly what to do to get up out of the hole. He admitted his transgression, took the heat, and went back to doing right things.

Aaron was all too human of a teenager. But, his life did not burn bright from a fuel of drugs and alcohol. Aaron's soul was his engine. His mind was full of thoughts of nature's spirit, happiness, and serenity through freedom. Aaron wished to see an equality in happiness. To Aaron, success was overcoming the next hurdle and not harming people along the way.

I vividly remember how Aaron walked. His head was often down in thought. (The ancestor of every action is a thought.) His gait was original; a stride and a bounce with angled long limbs covered in crumpled, loose fitting clothes.

Aaron was born 105 years after Emeron died and Aaron related to his writingvery well. Emerson wrote: To think is to act...Be and not Seem... Real action is in silent moments. The epochs of our life are not in the visible facts of our choice of a calling, ...but in a silent thought by the wayside as we walk; in a thought which revises our entire manner of life, and says, "Thus hast thou done, but it were better thus."

"My children", said an old man to his boys scared by a figure in the dark, "my children, you will never see anything worse than yourselves." Essays and Poems by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Spiritual laws p 163

Praying that some will honor their friend with thoughts that grow into healthy action,

Tom

Changes of Latitude

Patrick and I took a trip to AZ with our friends Tim and Charlie Kritter. A little father-son getaway. Blue skies, mountains, desert. Going anywhere with Tim is always a burst of energy. On the plane ride home Patrick observed that the relaxing four days left no time for reading. From sun up to sun down, Mr. TJK had us hiking, biking, exploring, golfing, eating, sight seeing, and generally goofing off. We loved it. Charlie, who spent more time in the past with Aaron and me than PT and me, kept calling Patrick "Aaron". I love hearing other people say Aaron's name...that's one of the most apparent loses. I mentioned to Charlie how I liked hearing him say "Hey, Aaron..I mean Patrick". He said "He looks so much like Aaron!!" Charlie is my Godson. He calls me Uncle Tom.

Of all we saw, Patrick was especially impressed with the natural sights of the University of Arizona campus. Tim pointed out the 4-1 ratio of coeds to men. Patrick is now determined to work on his grades to pursue higher education in a warm climate.

We stayed with Tim's parents, Dr. and Mrs. Kritter. They made sure we were well fed and suggested some extra fun after the sun went down. Mrs. Kritter runs the kitchen and Al's in charge of the commercial sized outdoor grill. They're both good "cookers". In addition to grilling, Al's a private pilot. He took me up in his Piper Arrow for a 10,000 foot view of the ancient desert ocean.

We arrived in Tuscon on a Wednesday evening. I think we flew in from Chicago on a DC-10. That plane has a cruise speed of 600 mph. As we left Madison on the plane, Patrick and I felt some seperation from the sadness and mourning. Sometime Friday morning I felt the grief catching up to me. By Saturday afternoon I was caught. Seems to me grief travels at about 150 mph...not including layovers.

On the way back to Madison, I tried to check the grief baggage and ship it to some undetermined destination. No such luck. You can't run from it, hide from it, give it away or wish it away. But, you can work on grief. Everyday I remember the thought I had read in 1998 and shared at Aaron's funeral: Now that this has happened, what are we going to do about it? What will I do about me?

I'm trying. Two days ago I started to re-read When Bad Things Happen to Good People. If bad things haven't happened to you, have happened to someone you know, or you're not a good people, read that book. The wisdom will come in handy.


Tom

A Friend of Aaron's

Sunday morning Cathy called me. I was on my way home from Antigo. She was trying to tell me something, but the words weren't flowing. I've heard Cathy try to break bad news to me before. She tries her best to get right to the point, but a lump in her throat and pain in her heart causes her voice to break.

"...there was an accident." I've heard those words too many times. My mind didn't race--it shot. As a bullet to a target and my mind cringed. Don't be Patrick was my quick thought. Cathy continued to relay the news. A friend of Aaron's, Justin Minnick, had called to say a friend of their's had died in a car crash early in the morning. His name is Kyle Goldensoph. Aaron and Kyle were classmates and friends.

Coming into town, we drove through DeForest and past the accident scene. My heart ached for the family and memories too fresh came back too fast. A broken machine. A broken tree this time. A broken young man. So many broken hearts.

Cathy and I went to the parent's home. We don't know how they feel. We're not sure how we felt at the same moment 9 months ago; shock blocks out some of those wretched feelings. (Shock is a blessing God grants and I didn't appreciate shock fully until months after it passed. I miss its blanket comfort.) We know how we feel today. We pray for this family.

We pray for Kyle's friends. Many are the same friends who mourn Aaron. Many are also friends of one or more of the three DeForest High School Juniors who died in August. Five teenage funerals in nine months. The thought I pray these young people reflect on is: Now that THIS happened, what am I going to do about me? In the bible it says, something such as: Set before you is fire and water, good and evil. Reach out your hand. You have free will to choose one or the other.

We have choices. How are we going to react to what happens? What are we going to do about us? Good or evil? Fire or water? Reach out your hand.

In Memory of Aaron, Matt, Kyle, Kass, and Kyle.

Tom