We Are A One-Cat Family Now

Carla Yastrzemski Patch

“The Good One”

*September 9, 2008 - December 1, 2017

*observed

December started for us with our second visit this year to that room at the vet’s office with the soft blanket and a box of tissues. They couldn’t perform the scheduled mastectomy on Carla. They shaved her up to get her ready, and discovered the cancer had moved into her armpits, it was just too aggressive to operate. We thought we would have to go in the next morning to say goodbye. I called David that afternoon and told him I wanted him to bring Carla home at least for that night. In 2008 when we brought her home from the shelter and promised her a forever home, we rescued her from living in a cage. I didn’t want her last night to be in a cage.

They sent her home with pain medicine. We would be able to allow her to let us know when she was done. She wasn’t really a lot weaker yet, she could still jump up on the bed to curl up with her daddy until he fell asleep and she could still come downstairs. to jump up on the foot rest of the recliner and sleep to relax her mommy to sleep. She was still eating and enjoying treats and in the evening she still spent part of the time attached to daddy's side on the couch and the other part on her armrest on the recliner making Carlaccino.

Marco and Carla- one last sun bath in the front window together

That lasted just over two weeks. At the end of two weeks she was moving very slow, sleeping a lot and not able to get up to the places she liked to be. Three days before it was over we had given her one of the painkillers in the morning. It was very sunny and it took her two tries to get on top of the chest by the window. She sat confused and Marco sort of guided her in to the cat hammock in the window so she could sit in the sun. It broke my heart that night after David went up to bed and she didn't follow upstairs, she crawled off the couch and sat in front of the recliner and cried up to me begging to be picked up. I wanted so badly to be able to pick her up and comfort her. She crawled back up to the couch and curled up back to sleep and I cried. The next day we gave her a painkiller in the morning and she pretty much slept all day with no interest in food or any of the other things she normally liked to do. She knew it was time.

We'll remember Carla in many special ways. She was a year-old when we adopted her and after having a rough first year, including having had kittens when she was still a kitten herself, she was adult cat size but had the happy kittenhood with lots of love she was owed. We were happy to give that to her and she never stopped being grateful. In so many ways she never stop being a kitten.

But to everyone that met her, Carla was a kitty of sounds. Her shelter name at Paws and Whiskers was Sassy. It wasn't too long after she came home that we realized how such a sweet girl could be called sassy. Carla had no problem letting us know when she needed petting. She had a very distinct, loud and plaintive meow when she demanded attention. But more than that meow, I worried the first time I heard the happy meow. She would yell loudly but muffled when she had a toy in her mouth and was walking around with it. We came to call that muffled meow singing, "I got I toy, I got a toy, I got a toy!” We call her purring “Carlaccino” because it sounded like the espresso machines in the coffee shop. When you pet her on her sweet spot; right on the top of her head between her ears, her purr would start low and quiet and get louder, building just like an espresso pot.

But what turned out to be the most distinctive Carla sound was there in other parts of the house but it really came to life when we removed the carpet over the hardwood floors in the living room. She had her clumsy moments jumping up on things, but when she walked through a room she had a fluid elegance and when she walked on the hardwood floor her claws made a rhythmic clicking sound like a lady in high heels. My weekend aide always celebrated her when she came downstairs welcoming her as “Miss Fancy Feet.” The friends, aides and nurses who are here most often noted they missed the lady like clicks of her feet on the floor when she came home for hospice care. In prepping her for this surgery she ended up not having, they clipped her claws.

Now all of Carla’s sounds, warm cuddles and the eternal kitten who never stopped playing in the eight years she was with us are gone. Last year at Christmas time, gifts to the canine family and friends came from "the three wise cats." This year Marco will be an only cat for the holidays. He left his litter mates when he was a kitten and instantly had two sisters so he's never been an only cat. It's different for all of us in a little emptier house this year.

2017: We lost our ‘Queen” and our “Good One.” 2018 has to be better.

Happy Memorial Day

Remember with a prayer or grateful thought today those who have given their lives in service of our nation. We don’t always have to agree with the motives of our government, but the men and women who have answered the call by desire or requirement at their time of service have represented you and me with courage and dignity.

The Best and Worst Week

The week started with a new month and me wanting to assess January as I went into it. But starting February 1 there was plenty of present to keep me from reviewing the recent past right away.

Of course Sunday was Super Bowl Sunday. The game outshined the commercials this year! There were a few good spots, but the football was exactly what you’re supposed to see when arguably the best from each conference face off in the biggest football event of the year. As a Patriots house we were biting nails at the very end, sure that we were about to see the Sea Hawks grab the victory on a drive at the very end only to screams and exchange happy high fives as Patriot’s rookie, Malcolm Butler, intercepted what would have been the end of the game loss for his team and essentially won the game and the title for the Pats.

Add to the coolness, it’s four Super Bowl rings for Tom Brady, who was the game MVP and was awarded a new truck from Chevy in recognition of that. Brady wanted to give that truck to Butler. The huge difference in incomes of the veteran star and the undrafted rookie would have had major taxable prize/gift implications because the truck would have been taxed at Brady’s considerably higher income with an additional gift tax for transferring it to Butler. Chevy stepped up and changed the awarding of the prize directly to Butler, taxable just as a prize at his income. Three-way awesomeness!


But on Sunday the news wasn’t so celebratory before the game in Toledo. We had snow, tons of it, falling. I’d already made a call for Rapid, LLC., our fantastic plow guys, to come over to do clean-up Sunday night, after the snow stopped and after the game if they had the interest/opportunity to watch. Yes I know we aren’t their only customers but the snow wasn’t supposed to stop until Sunday night, so maybe they’d have some time before they had to head out. It’s a small local company; they’re leaving home to go to work, not a garage with an army of plow tanks.

We were at a Level 3 Snow Emergency, no one who wasn’t medical, street maintenance or media out on the roads. How that started and played out was the darkest part of Sunday. Mayor, D. Michael Collins, held a press conference where he said that the Level 3 would start at 3PM. While driving home after that he suffered a cardiac arrest and his SUV drove into a utility pole. Two people called 911, and with the 911 operator’s guidance, pulled him from the SUV and started resuscitation as he wasn’t responsive. I listened to the 911 recording on The Blade website; they found ID and at that time realized who it was. Mayor Collins was taken the University of Toledo Medical Center where he was listed in critical condition. He died yesterday afternoon when he was taken off life support.

I feel a loss for my city because while it’s only just a little more than a year since Mayor Collins took office he faced so many challenges so well. From losing 2 firefighters, to record snowfall, cold and the snow removal crisis that accompanied that last winter to 2 days without drinkable water to start August and the call left to him when it was safe to drink from the tap again, and he handled them all with strength of character and reassuring confidence. But I think for me personally it’s also shown me how much smaller Toledo is than Detroit too. As a citizen the loss is personal too. Maybe it’s that I actually live in the city where I lived in Detroit suburbs; the mayor of the big city in the area is a choice on my election ballots. Maybe it’s that the mayor lived a block away from us. What I definitely know is that in a year he stretched the shoes in the Mayor’s office enough to make them even harder to fill in the special election that will be held in November.

Please visit The Blade to read about a great man with a personal history that built him into a great mayor. Unlike so many in politics he didn’t create problems, he solved them.

Toledo mourns loss of Mayor D. Michael Collins



In the closer personal Naniland my daily Lasix, water pill, and I have reached a tentative truce area. Simply if I don’t take it I can feel It; my legs swell, what mobility I have is compromised and I feel awful, part because with the swelling I still don’t drink enough water because rising up from the chair to go to the bathroom is painful. The anti-Lasix stance was self-destructive at best. So here is my wake-up to midafternoon ritual that’s worked well for me for the second half of this week.

Wake-up time is when my lower back and legs ache the worst. Bless David, he helps get me through morning stretching and downstairs and once he knows I’m down safely he goes back to bed because it’s usually before wake up time for him. Then I have my morning coffee and breakfast. Notice how I prioritize there? Starve me if you will, but don’t deny me my coffee! I take the Lasix after I’ve had a chance to really wake up and when it calls me to the bathroom I drink 2 Nani-gulps of water. 2 Nani-gulps usually empties a 16-oz bottle. I have no idea why, but it works. The urgency is down and the 3 times and hour bathroom trips have gone down to about 3 in 2 hours. I’m also keeping hydrated and feel a ton better during the day.

I Can Has Do Over!

I’m starting over on my reading for this year. I didn’t think the idea of having two books at a time is bad as long as I accept that the paper pages will go slower than the e-pages. The current paper page book is a hard cover. I’m slow at reading it and slow at getting into the story. That's not because I read slow. Until my first ereader in 2010 I always read slow and had to work to do that. My reading comprehension has always been great, I scored well in school, the Mensa test and thankfully I didn’t need to reread chapters to take tests in college. I just read black on white paper slow. But I read the whole Harry Potter Series, Gone With The Wind and the awful fan-fiction sequel, Scarlett in paperback or hardcover, the current book I just not captivating me. It does interest me though and books that have been slow but interesting to start in the past have often ended well for me. So, while it’s hardcover and honestly, I drop it a lot, I’m going to keep reading.


I think the problem was with the eBook I started with. I was reading that one at night because I wanted to get it over with, but I seemed to have100 pages left every time I looked. Here is the “When I stopped review” that I put on Good Reads when put it in my “did not finish” file.

The Lost Code by Keith Emmerson

I know this is a "young adult" book and sometimes I like to take a break from heavier reading and enjoy some light reading. I got as far as 178/276 pages and I couldn't bear the fact that there was still 100 pages to read. This wasn't the fluff mystery I was expecting it seemed to lose another screw from the reality cap with every chapter. It was taking me forever to read because it just never made me actually want to read it so I never picked it up. Maybe I'll finish it someday but for now I'm letting my brain wake up again in the worlds of murder and political gain. :)

So starting February 1 my new goal for the year is 22 books read, 22 reviews that I’ll post here. It’s the same hard cover in the “currently reading” window at the left but new e-title.

And so the do-over begins! :)

Prayers For Comfort

I want to start today with a big hug to my friend, Edna. Edna’s beloved canine furbaby, Tootsie, went to the Rainbow Bridge yesterday morning. Just before her last breath she gave Edna a lick on her hand; she said “I love you” before she left. Please keep Edna in your thoughts and prayers for comfort as she heals from the loss and celebrates the life of her beloved Tootsie.

For most of us, we’ll outlive our dear animal companions, but just like when any sick family member is reaching the end; you can never truly be prepared for the loss. Give your furbabies and extra hug in Tootsie’s honor today.

Miss Edna's Place: God, Bless My Tootsie

Happy Memorial Day

I hope everyone in the USA is enjoying the finale of the long weekend. It the official start of summer and possibly one of the biggest grilling days of the year, but first and foremost, it’s a day we honor our fallen heroes. What started in this country as a day to remember those who died during the Civil; War, became a day to honor soldiers who’d died in all wars defending our country and those who’d passed that had fought and come home. My grandfather, his brothers and my great-great-uncle, youngest of the family and their contemporary, all served in World War 2.

There are three different kinds of heroes from the Vietnam War in the next generation. My father and uncle were not born in America and were not citizens during the Vietnam war. My Uncle served and my father wanted to but was not accepted because of a childhood injury. He was disappointed because he wanted to serve for his home. He became a Naturalized American in the early 70s. I consider them both heroes of that war because of the willingness to fight to protect their country, one in which they didn’t even have a vote.

The other hero was my mother. Mom had told me that she and Pop disagreed about that war and that if she didn’t have a family, she probably would have ended up in San Francisco or another gathering of protesters. Instead, she was home with her young children, listening to the protest songs on the radio and teaching about peace and that a non-violent approach is always best. She also taught about freedom and being able to disagree without hate.

I don’t really have an opinion on those views or how they fit with the times. What I do know is this: The men and women who serve to defend our interests, serve to defend our freedom, our government which is by the people and for the people. They fight for our rights, which include the right to disagree with the government and be vocal without fear of retribution. If we are violent, even just disrespectful, to our own citizens who voice disagreement, we are disrespecting the very men and women we honor today. Think of that as we enter into this election season. Violence, disrespect and name-calling have no place in debate. Honor our heroes today, but don’t dishonor them by attempting to block safe exercise of those rights. Every opinion is American because being American is being able to have a difference of opinion. Your right is not to bully anyone into agreeing with you. Our right, our responsibility, is to speak up when we think something is wrong and to do so peacefully, acting on and voting our own informed conscience.

Enjoy the barbecue, but remember what this day is all about and honor them every day.

Vintage Thingie Thursday – Post Cards

Honeymoon Postcards, 1965

I don’t know if there is a definitive age that makes something “vintage.” I read on one of the other bloggers in VTT last week that she considered vintage to be older than her. I think I feel the same way. Even if vintage starts at 50, I’m 45, so if it’s older than me, it’s close enough!

I’m sure these postcards predate any essence of me because I was born 19 days after my parent’s first anniversary. The postcards are from their honeymoon! These were sent to my Great Grandmother while they were in Europe.

The Queen Elizabeth

The ship is the Queen Elizabeth and it’s the boat my parents sailed on. They had plenty of newlywed time to themselves, but on the trip, they were traveling with my paternal grandparents, aunt and uncle. Dad was taking his new bride to meet the rest of the family in San Marino!

Republic of San Marino

The Republic of San Marino is where my Dad was born. The family immigrated to the United States when he was 13. Actually, he turned 13 on the boat on his way here. I was there when I was 13 and saw pictures from a recent trip my Dad made. There is a lot that’s modern inside the buildings, but it still looks the same as it did in 1965!

San Marino is NOT in Italy. It is an independent republic that’s surrounded by Italy. They speak Italian, but the passports are San Marinese and until the change to the Euro, they minted their own money too. The San Marino lire and the Italian Lire spent the same in both countries.

Trevi Fountain, Rome

The third postcard is from Rome. It’s the Trevi Fountain, of Three Coins in the Fountain fame! The post mark is from The Vatican.

Thanks for joining me for a little retelling some stories I’ve been told about a time before me!

Great Women Are Not A New Idea

As I told you about, it’s been a sad and stressful time in my world. In two week’s time, David and I have celebrated the lives of and said ”goodbye” to two very important women to us. But I’m mourning, healing and moving on. It would be such a dishonor not to.

In 1925, Wonda Lemonovich and Kathryn Patch were born just days apart in different geographical, economic and social American worlds, but with the same walls facing them in the way those worlds looked at the “limitations” they were born with because of their gender.

The World War 2 era did not force either of these women into a role of assertiveness or leadership and it didn’t make them have to ”act” intelligent. It made it possible for them each to allow their natural abilities to shine and never hide them again.

For Kay, it was a position with a federal agency that gave her status, rank and travel. Then she went to law school while still working for the government, finishing with the highest marks in her class.

Grandma eloped at 19 years old and her only child was born while her husband was stationed with the Navy in the Pacific. She was effectively surviving as a single parent in the mid 40s! When her husband came home and after their daughter started school, she started working outside of the home in retail for the Kresgee Company. When they took the initiative to move women into management positions, Grandma was one of the first they asked.

Neither one grew up to meet the expectations of the typical baby girl born in 1925.

In 1966, I met Wonda Lemonovich. I was the first of her two grandchildren. I was loved and spoiled as grandchildren usually are, but the greatest gift Grandma gave me was something I wouldn’t even realize she was or could give until I was an adult. Grandma gave me the best definition of “normal” a girl could ever ask to grow up with.

Women are just as strong as men. Women have the same courage as men. Women are intelligent, skilled and driven, just like men. A woman is as capable on her own as a man is on his own, but to be truly in love and build a successful marriage where you put in just as much as he does is something to really strive to find and not something to settle for anything less than perfect for you. A woman cooks for her spouse when he’s working later and is always welcomed with a hot meal on the table when she is. Women set examples that many men and other women will follow. A woman earns professional respect from her superiors and subordinates be cause she works for it. A woman can do, can have, anything she wants. All she has to do is go for it.

That was the definition of “normal” I grew up with. I fight for things I believe just “should be” because I really can’t imagine them not being that way. I don’t give up, I don’t settle. That’s just not normal. I have been successful as a student, an employee and a manger. I feel pretty respected by the people in my world and I’ve never heard “for a girl,” as a qualification from anyone who mattered unless it was in jest. Grandma adored the man I told her was finally someone I could love like she loved Papa. I’m a pretty normal person. Thanks to Grandma, I’m normal because I KNOW, I can do anything.


With her consuming professional commitments, Kay married a generation later than Grandma did and had her first child just weeks before Grandma’s first grandchild was born. It was many years after 1966 that I met Kay for the first time, but that first child of hers was key in our meeting! Kay and I met at Christmastime in 2005. That first child was bringing me home to introduce his family to his girlfriend.

Kay’s mental and health decline had started before we met, but I remember that she was friendly and giving of herself and her time. She sat with me and we talked. She was eager to know me, to approve of the new woman in her son’s life. Some of the things she said were reminiscent of things my Great-grandmother said when she was in the beginning of her mental decline, but there was a strength and a warmness in her eyes I couldn’t help but feel, I couldn’t help but recognize. It was that same strength I grew up knowing in Grandma. Kay had been a powerful woman and still was.

In the few years that followed, I saw her mental and physical condition worsen, but I also saw a smile of recognition and love when she was at lunch or visited by both of her sons together. In all of her accomplishments, they were still the ones in which she seemed to have the greatest pride.

At her memorial service, David and his brother, Ben, both shared thoughts and stories of their Mother. Part of David’s included sharing emails he’d received from people who weren’t able to be there. One of the emails was from Vanessa, David’s ex-wife. Vanessa had the privilege of knowing Kay when her health was good and her mind still keen.

Vanessa described her former mother-in-law as a “superior person.” She said there were two kinds of superior people. The first kind was one who made you feel smaller in their presence. The second made you feel as if you were more. She said Kay was the latter of the two, that she made people feel richer for having known her. I truly believe that.


I remember after meeting Kay, telling Grandma about her. She always asked me how David’s Mom was when we talked on Monday nights. Kay was already in assisted living, but Grandma mentioned many times that she’d love to have the opportunity to meet her. At the end of last year, Ben and David were making plans to move Kay to a nursing facility nearer to David and also less costly than where she was with the same level of care. Grandma had been living at Caretel Inns in Linden, Michigan, and I had mentioned the wonderful care she was getting there at just below average costs for a nursing facility in Michigan. A room was open and Kay moved there just last month. Sadly, Grandma and Kay could have sat at the same table and not realized it by then.

When we brought Kay in, I spent some time with Grandma and told her that she was a neighbor now. She acknowledged that, but I don’t think she really understood that I meant Kay was living just down the hall from her. A week later, Grandma had a stroke over night and was in very bad shape. I knew it was nearing the end.

After spending some time with Grandma, who opened here eyes once, but didn’t really seem to see me, I kissed her goodbye and told her I loved her. Then David and I walked down to the TV area where Kay was. I put my hand on her shoulder and said, “Hi Kay!” She didn’t recognize me, but she seemed to know I was someone she was pleased to see because she gave that warm smile I loved to see from her so much.

That ended up being the last time I saw them both. Grandma passed just a couple days later and Kay’s heart rate had drastically fallen soon after we returned from the funeral and she too left us.

Emotionally we’re a little emptier for the losses, but the world is definitely better and richer for the barriers these two great women refused to even notice.


David wrote both the obituaries.

Grandma’s Obituary:
Kay’s Obituary:

Monday Mug Shot

M&Ms 2003

I don’t think I‘ve ever made it a secret how much I love M&Ms advertising. This is part of a 4-mug set of M&Ms advertising “spokes cadies” through the years. But this set of mugs is so much more than cool mugs, they remind me about how truly special giving is, how wonderful my mother was and that I have an angel watching over me.

Christmas 2003 was what I call my first Christmas as an adult. I was 37 years old.

Mom had always made Christmas a huge occasion for giving, and she gave everything she had. A bonus at Christmas meant she could buy more gifts for all of us. Dave and I had always been spoiled at Christmas. Following in Grandma’s footsteps, Mom wrapped even the everyday essentials that we needed at that time of year so there would be gifts spilling out from under the tree in mounds! That continued after Tori and Rina were born too. I think Dave and Dee needed an extra car to get the toys home Christmas of 1994! That was Mom’s way. Santa had incredible reindeer to haul that much. Of course, we thought every good little girl and goy got a haul like that – clothes, school supplies and cool toys, poor reindeer!

We lost Mom in September of 2003. I knew going into the holiday season that it was going to be a rough Christmas, but I also knew there were things that could not be permitted to fade away. That would be such a dishonor to Mom. There would still be Christmas dinner on Christmas Day and there must still be the Christmas Eve feast with John and Scotty. Most important of all, Santa brought the kids’ gifts under the tree and filled everyone’s stocking, kids and grownups alike. My 9-year-old nieces still held the magic of Santa in their hearts. It wouldn’t be until a month after they turned ten that the told me they “figured it out.” (and at ten they’d only figured out that Santa didn’t actually do “the ride!”) Santa didn’t die with Grams. I knew I had to take over for Mom as far as Santa was concerned.

It wasn’t easy. I learned a lot from Mom about shopping sales, looking for the better quality stocking stuffers at the dollar store to afford a couple of nicer things for the stockings. But this year I had to stuff that underside of the tree! I had to shop way past drop for two nine-year-olds! Oh, I’d always spoiled the girls as if they were my own. I was the single aunt and they were my joys to spoil, but they were Mom’s only grandchildren and for the last eight Christmases they were her chance to be Santa again, to lavish children she loved from the deepest of her heart with that magic Dave and I had as kids. That was the benchmark I had to keep if I was going to keep the magic alive!

I discovered the joy Mom had buying anything she wants for her grandkids. It broke her. It had to. After I paid bills, everything I had in November and December went to gift buying and holiday trimmings buying. By a week before Christmas, I was done. I had carefully budgeted the final list of food stuffs that needed to be bought fresh for the two feasts and bought enough to make the tree explode with packages, plus stockings for the girls and Dad and Grandma for Christmas morning at our place.

But someone was missing. I had always filled Mom’s stocking, but, along with everyone else, she had done mine. I had NOTHING for my own stocking. Remember, that Santa brings gift for everyone who is good and at our house he filled the adults’ stockings. I HAD NOT BEEN BAD!

By 2003, Grandma had hung up the shoes with the pointed up toes and gave Christmas checks and Dad never did the gift buying or wrapping; that was Mom’s thing. Dad took me out with him so he could shop for Mom! I didn’t at all have money to spend on myself left. I had bought the coffee mugs, but the box was too big for the stocking. I had picked up a Frank Sinatra CD I found for six dollars while I was shopping that I couldn’t resist, but hadn’t opened yet because during Christmas, I listen almost exclusively to Christmas music, so I wrapped that. I had one gift in my stocking. I also grabbed a few Baci chocolates out of the bowl of imported Christmas chocolates on the table. Pop gave me $20 to put some other things in my own stocking. I got some lip balm, a stocking staple since I was a kid and a pack of bubble gum, also a standard, a note pad and a fantastic sale at CVS afforded a small bottle of White Diamonds perfume. That was how Mom did it. She waited for the “right” sale before she bought pricier items.

After dinner with John and Scott on Christmas Eve Dad and Grandma came back from my cousin’s house and we talked a bit before the guys went home. That’s when Dad brought up the next morning. They’d pick up the girls for the week and be back by a little before noon. The tree would look different this year without all of Mom’s work. It was after Dad and Grandma went to bed that Elfavonna did her work.

At midnight, I placed the baby in the manger in my nativity and took my break from the party part of Christmas. I have a CD of religious Christmas music that I listen to while I have my prayer time when I wish the baby Jesus a happy birthday and meditate. The song Candlelight Carol contains the line “How do you measure the love of a mother?” The tears poured out as I told the baby in the manger, “You can’t. Help me understand.” After about an hour alone, I dried my eyes and came back downstairs. The house was silent, and I still had work to do.

I put all the girls’ gifts under and around the tree and filled all the stockings. Even my own didn’t look too anemic. There is a photo in my album from that Christmas of me putting the last gift under the tree. Thank you auto timer on my old 35mm point and shoot! I showed it to the girls and told them that Grammy and Papa fell asleep before he got there, but Santa took this one of me helping him. After I filled the stockings and loaded up the tree, I pulled out the 2003 M&Ms mug and poured a cup of Starbucks Christmas Blend coffee, another of Mom’s traditions.

I sat quietly and stared at the tree. It was bountiful and beautiful. I realized it was Mom’s way of trying to measure her love for all of us, but she never stopped adding gifts to that measure, even still picking up a couple of things on Christmas Eve. The answer was that Mom couldn’t even measure her love. It never ended. After walking in her shoes for a Christmas, after finishing that journey, I got the understanding I’d asked for. Love is beyond measure and as long as you’ve left that love, it will keep growing through those you left it with and you will always be home for Christmas.

Celebrating A Heart of Gold

John W. Scully
January 16, 1959-October 21, 2009

I have a heavy heart today. John Scully, one of my oldest and dearest friends died yesterday from complications of the heart and lungs due to emphysema. John was only 50 years old.

I first met John when I was 15 and learning how to drive. Mom would take me up to the mall after close to practice. Then we’d go to Dunkin Donuts to talk bout what I did, or more often didn’t, do right. At that time, John was 22 and working the evening shift at the donut shop. He was a sweet and friendly man who just clicked with both Mom and me. He always had a warm smile and a good laugh to share with everyone and he was never afraid to poke fun at me! I admired that because generally my friends seldom did that at that time.

As I’ve said before, I met all three of my closest and oldest friends at D&D. As friends from school met John, he became part of the group my Mom named “The Zoo.” Years after high school as many friends went their separate ways, John and Scott, who I did not go to school with, remained and our family of friends grew.

Having met when we were 15 and 22, our relationship was always that of a big brother-little sister. He always looked out for me, talked me out of making dumb mistakes and sometimes talked me into making the better choice. He was also the first one to check yes when I asked everyone about an evening or weekend out. Through the years we did so many fun things together. He and I went to my first national league baseball game together in 1991. That was on a trip to Atlanta when I had a job interview with a railroad video company. He wanted to go together just ion case I ended up moving to Atlanta and we didn't get to see each other as much. He was also one of the great idea-men in making costumes for our many wrestling fan events in the late 80s, even playing Virgil to my Tedi DiBiasse!

John was one of the first people to tell me that qualifying for Mensa was “No big deal,” to him and it didn’t surprise him. We met when I was seriously in my teenage inferiority complex and he was one of the first to tell me that the only stupid thing I ever said was that I was stupid. He played an instrumental part with Mom in getting me over that.

He was an incredibly generous man to everyone he loved. He was the first one to offer to drive when we went on trips and he never accepted gas money, even when we were all younger and poorer!

In 2004, when I made my tongue-in-cheek run for the White House, he was my running mate. Some of his social ideas were even more liberal than mine, although we both maintained fiscally conservative ideas. He was so much fun to have as a partner in our faux-political race.

In 2006, he and Sheri did all the planning for my 40th birthday celebration, including that it was John who bought all of the tickets for the baseball game a week later where the section was filled with my friends from Michigan and Missouri that came in a few at a time at the game I thought I only had two tickets for!

He was always there for the fun events in my world, but equally there to ease my burdens during the rough times.

When Mom died, it was hard on all of us. My close core of friends, the Zoo, enjoyed times with Mom as the “den mother.” When I, the one who usually does the planning, was just too emotionally involved to function as an organizer, John took over, gathering information for flowers, time for us all to be together to support each other and just spending lots of time making sure I was okay. During that time, along with Scott and Kelly, he held me up.

There are so many wonderful things I can tell about this incredible man who was a fixture in my life for almost three decades, more than half of both of our lives. There is an empty spot in my heart just now, but the world of wonderful memories will eventually fill it and the pain of losing him will be replaced with the reminders of the better person I am for the part of him he left on my heart forever.

I love you and miss you, John. Thank you for everything.

Our Wedding, Our Way!

I'm taking a brief study-break, so I'll share a little from last weekend!

As forecasted, it rained Saturday, one solid thunderstorm to cleanse the earth and bless the day. Then it cleared up and was nice. It wasn’t oppressively hot or humid at the base ball park, although it was hot enough to pop a balloon in a car with no air conditioning!

Friends and relatives started coming in Friday evening. David and the girls and I met his brother, Ben and family for dinner. Tori was excited about that. I had told them about how wonderful David’s family was when I first met them, how I felt so welcomed. We weren’t sure what the plan would be, if we’d meet with them Friday or see them Saturday. Tori was insistent that we should all have dinner. We went to a local brewery restaurant. The kids seemed to get along pretty well. Ben and I both tried the beer sampler. I ended up liking and drinking two of the small glasses and really that was enough for someone who doesn’t drink often. Rina and Tori thought it was important to get a photo of me with all that beer to send to their Dad.

After dinner, the four of us went home to wait for Doug, who was staying with us. Doug got in and then the cats had enough of all of the people in their house. Baggle actually came back later and made friends with Doug, but surprisingly, Kaline stayed hidden. She pretty much decided that she didn’t need to deal with the house full of people for the rest of the weekend. On Saturday, when David’s brother Peter came in she stayed gone and when his brother Anthony came over with wife Carol and their grandson, well, you wouldn’t know we had cats!

We all managed to get into 2 vehicles, balloons and all, to head to the ballpark. When we got there, Rina and Ben stood near the main entrance with the sign for reception information, giving a niece from one side of our family and a nephew from the other on the home plate corner. Their job was to direct people to Tori and EP at the third base gate. The girls at third were in charge of checking people in and distributing the guest envelopes to our guests. After working on the favors with Rina and me, Tori assembled the name badges and prepared the envelopes with the tickets, wristbands and name badges and check in sheets. The system worked well. Tori was very into the whole wedding planner stuff. She’d done a lot of leg work with Laura’s wedding, welcoming her new Mom to the family and she did a lot to help her “old aunt” too. ;)

The bride and groom with Mudonna

I really didn’t think I was going to actually see a lot of baseball that night. I was however, gloriously surrounded by baseball. What a fitting reception party! I got to spend some time with friends and relatives, some of whom I’d just met, and still, there wasn’t nearly enough time for that. We got a visit from Muddy in the first inning and David and I got a picture with him. I was hoping we might be able to get them both together, but that couldn’t be managed during the game. Anthony brought grandson, JC, to meet Muddy. To say he wasn’t impressed is putting it so lightly. He cried. Big yellow birds in baseball jerseys are pretty frightening when you’re under 2. When Mudonna came a little bit later, David and I got our picture with her, but JC didn’t bother!

Dinner was fantastic! The carved ham and roast beef was a far cry from standard ball park fare and I’m told the mac and cheese was awesome! After we finished eating, there was an opportunity when all of the guests were present and not other places in the park for David and I to do some visiting and bring the favors to everyone. M&Ms won’t do a single letter on their personalized M&Ms. So, I made round stickers with a single letter “d” on them that look like “d” M&Ms at first glance. The stickers have our names and the wedding date on the circumference. Those stickers were on the bags that had M&Ms with our names on half and “d&d 12-23-08” on the others. They turned out to be very nice favors. We also had a newsletter with stories about how we met, our biographies and a word search with “us words” in it the newsletter got many compliments.

Our M&Ms favors

Before the cake was brought out, we invited everyone to blow the party bubbles as we released a group of balloons in memory of the family members who are no longer with us and in tribute to David’s Mom who couldn’t make the trip. The bubbles were a suggestion that Mary made and I passed it on to everyone as an “if you’d like to participate” idea. David and I held the balloons together and released them. As the balloons floated up in the sky a cloud of bubbles floated past us and followed like little angels pushing the balloons to heaven. I really don’t know what it looked like, but it felt warm, fuzzy and awesome!

Coming soon - THE CAKE!

Angels and Birds Have Wings

Mark “The Bird” Fidrych
8/14/1954 - 4/13-2009

It’s a sad day for Tiger baseball fans today. My inner child is in tears. Mark “The Bird” Fidrych died today at his farm in Massachusetts, victim of an accident. A friend found him under a dump truck that he had been working on this afternoon. He was 54 years old.

I remember so fondly The Bird’s Rookie of the Year season in 1976. The 21-year old pitcher’s antics were the talk of the town and in a good way because he was racking up the pitching stats to support him doing whatever he wanted to do as an entertainer on the mound!

Fidrych got on his knees and groomed the dirt, paced in circles and talked to the ball. He was lovably crazy on the field, pitching 24 complete games, with a 2.34 ERA and a trip to the All-Star Game as a rookie.

I got to see him pitch one game that year. Tickets to a game when The Bird was pitching were not an easy thing to get. But that game is not what sticks in my memories from my childhood about him. It was off the field, out of the ball park. His summer condo was only a few blocks from my neighborhood and I remember gathering a group of friends to go to his house and see him. This was the summer I turned 10 and we were all about that age. I think there were five or six of us that went. We rode are bikes over and just sat there on the sidewalk looking at his door, his car, his grass in awe. We were at the home of The Bird. Then the door opened and Mark Fidrych walked out onto the porch! He smiled at us and said “hi kids!”

We said in chorus with wide unblinking eyes “Hi Bird!”

We rode home ecstatic. Mark Fidrych talked to us. He didn’t tell us to go away or anything and didn’t say we were bugging him like all our Moms said we would be. He said “hi.” He smiled!

That was the summer that we moved to Northville and what a great last hurrah in Southgate, the city I just hated to be leaving. Later in the summer, there was going to be an autograph signing at Little Caesar's Pizza restaurant that was a half block away from our house. By that time half of what we owned had been boxed up for the move, but Dave and I made sure we made time to go. John Hiller and Mark Fidrych were signing! I’ll mention that in 1976, there was no charge to meet the players and get autographs. The line was spiraling outside of the restaurant with more bikes than cars in the lot. We waited to meet a couple of our favorite players.

When I got to the table where The Bird was signing, I told him my brother and I had been to his house earlier in the summer with our friends.

“You were the kids on the bikes! How has your summer been?”

He remembered us!! HOW COOL!

As an adult, I realize that there were probably a LOT of kids on bikes in front of his lawn all summer and probably a lot of “recognizing” the kids on bikes, perhaps for every bike that was parked in front of the restaurant, but what a great man to seize that and make every kid who mentioned having been to his house feel remembered.

Fidrych’s career was cut short by injuries, but he is an on and off the field legend in Detroit. When the last game played at Tiger Stadium was finished and the closing ceremonies began, Sparkly Anderson spoke live from his home in California on the Jumbotron. He admitted himself that he’d probably shed a few tears watching the rest of the ceremony, giving permission for everyone in the park to cry without any shame.

I know a lot of men who admitted to crying there or even while watching on TV. I know Mom and I both started crying when they were announcing the Tiger greats in the ceremony. When The Bird was announced, he ran to the mound and got on his knees and started grooming it again, this time to put some in a bag to keep. The crowd that was there live just erupted with approval.

Baseball has lost a man that there is none like in the sport today. He played with a love for the game and a love for the fans. His career and his life were short but he is a legend in the hearts of the fans he touched, even for just a moment.