Aaron's Voice

Fourteen months have passed. Two nights ago I heard Aaron's voice. Aaron had recorded an answering message on a cell phone of a friend of his. My recollection of the story is the recording was made post MBA, probably in February, March, April or May '05. We don't have videos from '05 so that little recording is the best available for hearing Aaron's personality.

The personality is what struck me Saturday night more than the sound. Pictures might tell a thousand words...or however that goes. Seeing pictures but not hearing the sound of Aaron's voice, I'm sure the tone and inflection of a voice is a picture of a personality. Dang.

Tom

The Note Book

From a Notebook we had in our kitchen...

Aaron-
Went for a walk. 2:30. Be back around 3:50.
Mom
-have my phone



AJ
Went to Middleton. I have my cell phone. call me.
Love Mom


Come on up 2 me room
I am playin Final Fantasy.
(Patrick to Aaron)

In Aaron's hand writing:

This is for the garage door
Steve dropped it off.

Compendium of all my knwlege
Manefesto

Hair Cut
6:30

Mocking Book

Random notes
trivial activities
inconsequential days.

Oblique thoughts
expanding a mind
for future reference.

Simple remnants
innocent times
mocking our pain.


Tom

Donor Services

Within very few hours of Aaron's death Cathy and I were responding to questions related to autopsy and organ donation. It was at the time of day when we might well have been asking Aaron if he was going to be home for dinner. Instead we were grasping for rational answers to what we knew were important but horrifying notions.
Aaron is our boy and this was not real. He'd be walking in the front door soon and asking in his fading Northwest accent "Whuts goin' awn?" We looked to friends and family for advice and settled on agreeing to organ donations.

Donor Services, www.rtidonorservices.org, is located in Madison. I think they are as kind as people can be. Within days of Aaron's funeral we received an inspirational letter telling us that Aaron's corneas were used and had given sight to more than one person. Two days ago the latest letter arrived. The efforts Donor Services makes to keep families informed is an act of mercy and no small task I suppose.

Between a 17 year old woman in California to a 75 year old woman in Colorado, there include a 36 year old in Indiana, a 35 year old in Tennessee, a 59 year old in South Carolina and 15 more people scattered around the US, Aaron's bone, heart valve, and tendons, are helping others. Thirty three bone tissues and tendons are still awaiting transplant. Skin can be used as a temporary covering for burned patients awaiting grafting procedures. Aaron's gift of skin is still waiting transplant.

Considering Aaron had friends from everywhere USA, and he was going to go live with many of them sometime after high school, it is appropriate that Aaron's adventure of life continues.

Tom

Pup Tent and A Horse With No Name

Doc spent a few weeks at summer camp with the breeder doing hunter training. On a sizzling hot weekend I made the trip over to retrieve our now slimmed down pal-Rockets Doc Marley. He's a reddish brown, curley haired Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Doc is a son of Gunners Lakeshore Rocket and Lakeshores Swamp Fox V. (His pedigree is superior to that of Patrick and Aaron.) Bob Budnik is the Breeder and terrific guy.

Knowing I would spend a full day with Bob working with Doc and other Chesies, I planned an overnight stay at Point Beach. I would need a tent and not much else. The tent caused me to pause for more than some few hours. For a week I contemplated taking our tent; the tent Cathy and I used before children. The tent I took Aaron camping for his first camp out and his next and his next. The same tent that Aaron and his friend Ted last used in about 2002. The same tent that Aaron had packed up and put away where it has stayed for four summers. I knew the tent would have remnants of an innocent time because until 2004, Aaron never left a campsite or room cleaner than he found it.

A trip to Gander Mountain to buy the least expensive tent I could find ended with me at the check-out with a box of $34.00 worth of escape. I knew I didn't need a brand new tent but I was trying to avoid an emotion I didn't want to feel. With $19.00 remaining on a Christmas Gift Card, I turned west and walked the tent back to the shelf. I left the store with $17.45 remaining on my card and four new, yellow plastic stakes to hold my old tent in place.

Driving to Manitowoc I contemplated my options: Sleep in the jeep or open the tent. I chose to open the tent and ride the emotions. The first thing I noticed was the aroma of a tent put away maybe a little damp. The second was the Pringles top that fell out of the interior. Rolled back, the foil seal was a sure indicator that Aaron had been there. The stakes were set and the tent went up easier than I remembered. I unzipped the opening and looked inside. If Aaron was Hansel of Hansel and Grettle, his trail would have been marked by candy wrappers and not bread. The tent was littered with Jolly Rancher wrappers, bitten off on one end, and Blow Pop wrappers. Letting the air quietly and slowly leave my lungs, I turned another page from happy, innocent days to the present. I picked up the wrappers and tucked them safely in the Jeep to take home to Cathy and Patrick. They're on the counter in a neat little pile. Some litter can't be thrown away.

The time alone was spent reviewing many Aaron memories. For a little boy, Aaron had a big imagination and reality rarely lived up to expectations. The first camping adventure was to Devil's Lake. He loved my story about Devil's Lake: The lake was formed when an enraged creatures hurled massive boulders at the earth. The crushing blows to the surface pulverized the rock and piled the crushed stones in heaps. The crater was filled with crystal clear ice water which fell from the clouds after the dust blocked out the sun and froze the earth. After that, the experience was never just right. Hotdogs on a stick must not have looked the way he expected and something else was bugging Aaron, but I never figured it out.

I drove home from Manitowoc with Doc in the crate and Aaron still on my mind. Now the memory shifted to August 2004. We were in Oregon visiting Aaron. In his room Aaron was showing us what he had learned on the guitar. I don't recall the song he was playing but I remember asking "Aaron, can you learn 'A Horse with No Name?'" "Dude! I just started to learn that one!!" was his reply.

Station 93.1 FM, The Lake, was on my radio and as I came down Egre road near home I asked Aaron to have that song play next to let me know he was with me. The next song was something else. Ahhhhhh.

Two hours later I jumped in our other car and headed into Madison to buy some dog training tools. A couple miles down the road, I realized the station tuned in was not one I normally listened to. I switched to 93.1. The song playing:

America--A Horse With No Name

On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound

Ive been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
cause there aint no one for to give you no pain
La, la ...

After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
After three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead

You see Ive been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
cause there aint no one for to give you no pain
La, la ...

After nine days I let the horse run free
cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with its life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love

You see Ive been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
cause there aint no one for to give you no pain
La, la, la, la, la, la...

It felt good to hear from my son...
Love
Dad

Passive Aggressive or Just a JackAss

My path crossed three times in my life with a persons who's behavior is so offensive I became physically ill from interacting. Subtle insults, absurd statements and opinions, paranoia, rejection of good intentions, mental abuse, and self-sabotaging neglect all displace healthy air the same way so much garbage overwhelms a landfill; eventually there's toxic gas.

I remember Aaron coming home from Mount Bachelor with a knack for analysis and quick labeling of all of my negative character traits. "Passive Aggressive! or You're projecting!" He would announce to Cathy, Patrick and me. Asking to have the ketchup passed was as likely to get a character label as was saying "no" to Aaron's request to stay out all night. It was fun for a while until I realized he was able to stop me in my tracks leaving me with a very small arsenal of weapons for parenting. Was I really a basket case for psycho analysis or was I an average Dad with a limited ability to corral my son??

I looked up Passive-Aggressive on www.wikipedia.org and here's what I found on the subject:

Passive-aggressive behavior refers to passive, sometimes obstructionist resistance to authoritative instructions in interpersonal or occupational situations. Sometimes a method of dealing with stress or frustration, it results in the person attacking other people in subtle, indirect, and seemingly passive ways.

Someone who is passive-aggressive will typically not confront others directly about problems, but instead will attempt to undermine their confidence or their success through comments and actions which, if challenged, can be explained away innocently so as not to place blame on the passive-aggressive person.

In some instances the passive-aggressive person will solicit the confidence of others as to their ability to perform duties, and then purposely sabotage those duties through procrastination or mishandling responsibility. Subsequent demands for performance are laid aside with claims of interference by the demanding parties or some other condition outside the control of the passive-aggressive's influence, when in fact the delays and poor performance are due to the passive-aggressive's internal perception that to perform the task at another's demand is a demeaning insult to them. The omission of performance leaves the passive-aggressive person in control of the situation, and allows that person to continue the aggressive behavior toward others. These behaviors can persist even if it means personal loss to the passive-aggressive person, i.e. job loss or loss of esteem by others.

These individuals feel that expressing their anger through passive-aggressive behavior is morally favorable to direct confrontation.

The lack of repercussions resulting from passive-aggressive behavior can lead to an unchecked continual attack, albeit passive, on one's acquaintances. The treatment of this disorder can be difficult, mostly because efforts to convince the person that they have this problem are met with resistance, and the passive-aggressive will frequently leave a treatment regimen claiming that it did no good.

On www.straightdope.com the writer concludes that loosely defined, a diagnosis of the population of earth would find 100% of humanity "Passive-Aggressive".

I suppose it's not my place to label anyone with a medically recognized psychological disorder. In my neighborhood growing up in the '60's, we were unscientific kids. Our Dad's were blue collar guys; no doctors, a couple of high school teachers, a football coach and a few military men. We learned from them. Diagnosis of social dysfunctions was quick and painless. Act like a victim, sling insults, hurt people and deny responsibility: You're aJackAss The diagnosis was free.

The Budhist tells us even the person who insults us is worthy of our gratitude for teaching us. Similar to the Christian suggestion of "turn the other cheek".

Trying to honor you Aaron, with better behavior by practicing assertiveness over aggression,

Tom

Continuing Bonds on the Fourth of July

July 4th memories of Aaron are as abundant as the fireworks lighting the sky from ocean to ocean across our country tonight. Aaron loved the day; he loved everything about the fireworks. So much excitement. The celebration continues and Aaron's gone. I'm not ready to participate in the festivities without Aaron.

What I am excited about is the mission of The Aaron Meyer Foundation-opening Aaron's House. You can read more about that on Through Aaron's House, I feel a tangible continuation of my bond with my son. I've written this before: it's not enough to say I don't want my son forgotten, I want my son to make healthy waves, or vibes, in the world while I am still in the world. I feel a little less alone from Aaron when his name and his idea is in the community.

The impetus for being open to a way to continue our bond came from the book "Continuing Bonds" by Dennis Klass, Phyllis Silverman, and Steven Nickman. The book was suggested to Cathy, Patrick, and me by Mike Byrd and Maggie Felker last summer. Mike and Maggie lost their son a few years ago when he vanished while traveling South America. Mike and Maggie continue their bond with their son by following his footsteps and helping young people in the land he explored.

Mike, a UW professor, had done some teaching at Horizon High School while Aaron was there. Logic was his subject, and Mike tells us Aaron was eager for complex logic questions. I know Aaron loved having his brain twisted. I do miss Aaron's unique take on challenging thoughts, and of course his own many questions including his most common "Dad, is that a true story?"

I'm grateful for Mike and Maggie suggesting Continuing Bonds to us.

Happy Fourth of July-Peace
Tom