It was a little before or after this last Christmas when Dylan and I were waiting outside a girls clothing store. We were looking down into the lower level of the mall. Watching a hawk circle around its perfume cart of a perch.
He was looking for his next victim. Round and round the cart of perfume he would circle until he would utter something to an unsuspecting passerby.
Unable to hear what he actually said, we starting to make things up:
Hey ladies, you smell kind of bad. Let me take care of that for you.
Ma’am, looking good, but I have the missing touch.
Hey buddy, you need some help with ladies?
Want to get your lady what she really wants.
That kind of stuff.
Waiting for Donna and Marisa now, I look downstairs to see the same guy. I get distracted when a mother returns her baby to a stroller with its eyes closed and asleep. I keep thinking about the last I saw my son like that and can’t shake the image of him lying on a table in the hospital.
Looking for an old tweet I accidentally stumbled on this:
I suppose the last words a person conveys to somebody could be worse. I hope he knew we always only wanted the best for him, and that we knew he was a good young man.
I finally took the time to get my haircut for the first time since January, and for the first time in over three months I accidentally drove up to Copperhill and Copperstone. When I got up there, I just kind stared at the tree decorated with with dead flowers,candles and a sign. Not really sure what just happened despite being there only an hour and a half earlier to begin my Saturday morning like I have for over three months. I just hadn’t driven up there.
Something shook me out of it and I went to get my hair cut. I paid and was almost to the car, when one of the stylist ran up to me to tell me how she was about the loss of my son. I asked how she knew him, and she told he used to come in there to get his hair cut. She said he was always very nice, and was alway a pleasure to have there. He obviously made enough of an impression on her to make the connection. She said she prays for him when she drives by the intersection I had just violated for the time in months. She gave me hug and ran back inside to continue on with her day. I got in the car and started toward the exit, when I stopped for a moment. Eyes watering up.
I drove by the Getty Museum four times this weekend for Marisa’s dance competitions. One time, when I drove by it brought a smile to my face as I remembered when we took Dylan there. It was about a year or two after it had opened around 1998. Dylan was probably five or six years old at the time. We spent quite a bit of the day there. As I recall, the tour was pretty straight forward and linear. We did the whole thing with Dylan.
Eventually, he got fidgety and was starting to get a little bored. Fortunately, the Renaissance period was there to liven things up. As Dylan noticed that something was not quite right with one of the paintings, he got a big smile on his face. He didn’t say anything, but we knew what he was smiling about. We tried to get him to tell us what was so funny, but he wouldn’t until we asked leading questions where he could answer with a yes or no. The boobies of the Renaissance period paintings saved the day. They became a bit of a Where’s Waldo kind of game for us. We would be disappointed when we would round a corner to find a boobie-less painting staring back at us. I’m sure the “mature” people around us without their kids did not appreciate our adolescent behavior, but we had fun and were able to make it though the whole tour with him.
It’s a Dylan day. You and I should go to Santa Barbara and get a bucket of clams tomorrow. What do you say, boy?
Lyric by We Are Augustines: “Soak your scars in the ocean”
When Dylan was about three, he and I had a food adventure. Donna was at work, and Dylan and I went to the grocery store. We were looking around and I found that Cherrystone clams were on sale. I liked clams, but never had these before. They were huge, and I misjudged how many to buy. I got some butter and garlic along with the clams, and made our way home to the shitty apartment Dylan spent his first years in.
When we got home, I prepared them. Again, something I had never done. I used the biggest pot I could find, because I quickly realized that I had a lot. Threw some butter and garlic in the boiling water, and then put as many of the clams in the pot as I could fit. The whole time egging Dylan on. “Are you hungry? Want some clams?” To which, he said over and over “yes.” He never wavered. In a few minutes, I started fishing the clams out of the hot water and putting them on a plate. I sat Dylan up on the counter next to plate, and asked him again whether he wanted some clams. He answered yes. So, I made sure they tasted all right, and then dug one out of its shell and right into Dylan’s mouth.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes”
“Do you want another one?”
“Yes”
And on it went, until he and I finally realized that we had had enough Cherrystone clams for the rest of our lives.
We ate clams again, but not those giant Cherrystone clams. And I’m okay with that being our thing we did 18 years ago.
I originally wanted to title this post, “Darkness prevails.” But, in the spirit of Jim Stafford, I have chosen to simply go with his name.
The first time I walked into Jim Stafford’s house was inspiring to me. From the front door, you could look through the living room, kitchen and huge family room and look right through the sliding glass door to the backyard. I am not sure why we were there, but it was a party. There were a lot kids there, Dylan included. We played a lot of pool that night, but what stuck with me was the house. On the way home, I remembering asking Donna, “Do you think we will ever live a house like that?” To which Donna replied, “Yes, if you want to.” Years later, after I bought my first and only house with a somewhat similar kind of view through it, I told Jim about how seeing his house was a inspiration to me. He said “Really?” I’m sure he thought it was silly, even after I explained it to him. But it was the truth.
Our experiences with Jim Stafford and his family were periodic through out the years. Nonetheless, they were incredibly memorable to us. The first time Jim and his family came over Lonny and Jennie’s while I was there was kind of funny for me. I wondered who this guy was that he thought he could just walk into Lonny and Jennie’s house. Little did I know. After having spent some time with Jim and getting know him better, I would have felt privileged to have him walk into my house with that big smile on his face and a friendly hello in his voice.
It seemed like we had quite a few years where we would get together with Jim and his family. For a while, it was New Year’s Eve for pool playing and video game embarrassments for the elders. Myself included. Always at the hand of Dylan, Jim Jr. and John. Dylan was always excited about New Years during that period where we did that. Later, it became Fourth of July to watch fireworks at the mall. Jim was always welcoming and friendly. I cannot think of a nicer man I have met in my life. His optimism was infectous to everybody in the room. His voice was a smile. When he would speak, you just knew that there was smile not far away.
My family and I treasured those memories with Jim and his family. They made holidays that usually weren’t that big of deal to us memorable, and something we will never forget. Jim was strong, and he tried to hang in there for his family. He did for quite a while.
The last time I saw Jim, he walked right into Lonny and Jennie’s house like he had countless times before. He was welcomed as always, and it was nice to see him for the little bit we did. The last time Donna and I heard Jim’s voice was probably a couple months ago when he found out we lost Dylan. Clearly, he was struggling, but still made the effort. It was heartfelt and appreciated. A very, very nice man.
Since the music press seems to be falling over themselves lately to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the self inflicted death of a rock deity that helped to revitalize rock music in the early 90s, I thought I might post a cover version of one of said deity’s band’s trademark songs. The vocals and rhythm guitar are by a young man who chose life, but had his taken away two months ago. And in true indie rock fashion, it is very low-fi.
This has been the most distressing two months of my life. But, it has been two months. Flowers have died. Ribbons have been tossed aside until the next such event touches peoples’ lives. People have returned to continue their lives, and deal with their own issues. Maybe they are preparing meals or coloring eggs for the upcoming Easter weekend. Maybe they are preparing to take a trip of a lifetime in the summer. But they have moved on much as the winter of 2/14/2014 has become the spring. My life seems stuck on 2/14/2014.
This weekend I had a second dream with Dylan in it. It was mid-morning Easter sunday. Dylan came downstairs. He was dressed and wearing his black and white stripped hoodie that hangs in our downstairs coat closet today. He was carrying a large oyster shell shaped, white glass tray. On the tray, it was filled with one or two layers of chocolate chip cookies with a couple exceptions. In the squared off portion of the oyster shell shaped tray, there was a piece of paper with three columns. The first two columns were large dollar amounts, and the last column was a description. The numbers were in dollars, and they were in the thousands. Each row alternated bewtween positive and negative. The descriptions were not clear. The whole thing was seemingly meanless and did not contain a botton line.
It was kind of like this:
$32,453 $32,645 Some words here
-$32,343 -$32,245 Some other words here
etc.
It was probably about thirty to forty lines of this. It was just sitting on this tray in the square portion of oyster shape.
The second exception was one big plop of really soft cookie dough toward the rounded edge of the tray.
Dylan came over to the dining room table where Donna and I were sitting facing the front door, and kissed Donna. He was leaving. Presumably, he was heading over to Thalia’s house for the holiday. Then, he was on the other side of the table facing us. He said “I love you”, and turned to leave with his tray full of cookies, when everything fell off of the tray. Dylan was unaware and continued out the front door. Donna and I stared for a moment at what had been everything on the tray. Everything that was on the tray, become nothing but an even larger plop of the really soft cookie dough on the floor in front of the coat closet door. Momentarily, Donna got up to chase Dylan down to tell him, and I shortly followed. Then, I woke up.
I have made many, many mix tapes and playlist over the years. However, in recent years, they have been made as motivators for me when I run. When I used to make mix tapes, every song had a meaning and a place. When I set out to make a playlist of songs by Dylan or songs that were a part of Dylan’s life, I wanted perfection. What set me off to attempt to make such a playlist was a couple things. When I discovered some music Dylan had recorded on his computer, I thought I could put something together from that. Then, with the impending day on the boat to spread Dylan’s ashes, it evolved into something different. It became a group of songs which I have played a portion of almost every day in the last month. Many times I have thought of expanding it too. Orignally, this was meant to be played while we were on the boat. In restrospect, I am glad it wasn’t, because I never felt like it was good enough. I was as frustrated with it as Dylan must have been while trying finish “Parked.”
Track 1: I Love You Dylan
I suspect that this was recorded around the time of the QuickCam memories in 1996. I wanted to record something and play it back to make sure everything was working. I told Dylan to say something — anything. Donna might have told him what to say, because he didn’t know what to say. I managed to keep one, because at one point later on, I put it up on our first web site. When I did it, I told Dylan that now anybody in the world can hear him say he loves his Daddy. I’m not sure he believed me then.
Even though this song was released thirteen years before Dylan was born, it always made me think of him. When Dylan was born, it really felt like it was the three of us (at the time) and the rest of the world. And I think that is the way this song comes off. “Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.”
Track 3: This Land Is Your Land
This was recorded in June of 2001. I’m pretty sure this is probably the first time Dylan played in front a group of people. Jerry Danielson, Dylan’s guitar instructor, accompanies Dylan on this. Dylan did a great job on the Woody Guthrie classic.
This one was hard for me to come up with. Originally, I wanted to put something from Sgt. Pepper here. I kept thinking of “When I’m 64”, but “She’s Leaving Home” might have been better, if I choose to stick with the Beatles. Sgt. Pepper was important to Dylan and us as a family for a couple reasons. The first reason was because of what Dylan accomplished. As Dylan’s guitar playing progressed, it was clear that he knew the basics really well. He started learning a song here and there from Sgt. Pepper, until eventually, he was motivated to want to play the entire album. I loved that he took the initiative and was determined to do it. He pretty much breezed through the whole thing, until he got to George’s lead on “Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)”. He struggled with it, but ultimately he did prevail. I wish I had thought of trying to record it.
The other reason Sgt. Pepper was important was because we, as a family, wasted quite a few afternoons playing the album from beginning to end on Rock Band. We would switch around instruments, and sing our favorites or the one we thought we could sing. Good fun.
In the end, I went with a Panic At The Disco song. Appropriately, it is a very beatlesque sounding one. This was a song that Dylan and Marisa used to call up a lot on Rock Band too. I didn’t really care for it, but usually enjoyed playing it, in the end. But, Panic At The Disco was a band that Dylan and I talked about quite a bit. I had heard of the band, but wasn’t real familiar with the music from their debut album that had been out maybe a year at the time. I told him I would listen to it, because he really enjoyed it. That album was my running buddy for quite a while. It grew on me. I always suspected that his favorite song on the album was “I Write Sins Not Trajedies”, because of the line: “Haven’t you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?” The kinds of conversations we used to have about bands like Panic At The Disco always reminded me of the discussions I would have about music with my friends when I was in high school. I always liked a good discussion about music, and Dylan and I had many. In fact, just before the accident he was talking about a band he really liked called †††. Surprisingly EDM for him. That is usually my thing.
Track 5: Parked (fast instrumental)
This is a guitar take of “Parked” I found on Dylan’s computer. Clearly, he had the chords he wanted, but was not sure about the pace.
When I started on this list, I wanted to try to find songs that meant something to other people in Dylan’s life besides myself. I asked Marisa one evening, and she immediately said “Check Yes, Juliet”. I like this song. I had not heard this one before. Very EMO, which Dylan liked.
Track 7: Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer
This was recorded in December of 2001. The video is so funny. Dylan is bobing his head, and you can see him counting. He knew the song well, and I guess at this point he was a road verteran because he seemed oblivious that he was in front of people. This was probably his second performance in front of people. Jerry accompanied Dylan on this one as well.
This time the song idea came from Thalia. I asked her for a few songs that were their favorites as a couple. She gave me three. Of course, since it was my list I got to pick and choose. I’m sorry Dylan and Thalia, but I tried First Kiss by A Rocket To The Moon. I found the song to be mediacore at best, so all I heard was country. I can tolerate country sounding music much, much more than I used to, but the song still needs to be good. Instead, I went with the Lifehouse song here. This is a band that I have listened to their debut album a few times, but only really liked “Hanging By A Moment.” “You And Me” is a nice song, and kind fit in with direction the list was going.
Track 9: Bottom Of A Bottle
I think I would probably call this the apex of Dylan’s public guitar playing. He played this during a talent show at North Park Elementary school. This would have probably been in 2005. Organizer of the event allowed Dylan to go long on his time, because he was demonstrating a talent and he was pretty good in comparison. What was great about this one was that Dylan really liked this song a lot. It was introduced to him by Jerry Danielson, his long time guitar teacher by that point. The song is by a band Jerry’s son is in named Smile Emtpy Soul. Dylan liked this so much, he went out and bought the album. I liked it when he found something he really liked and wanted to play it. And for the most part it showed in his playing. Kind of funny having a sixth grader play a song about drug addition at an elementary school talent show. But it rocked!
This is another song name that Thalia sent me. I actually like this song, and it fits great as the playlist comes down the final stretch. AVP usually sound a little too immature for me. Dylan and Thalia were huge fans of this band. In fact, a week or two before the accident, we found out they were planning on going down to San Diego to see the band. Donna and I weren’t thrilled with the idea of them driving down there and back right afterwards. They returned safe and sound at around 2am. Little did we know what awaited us a few days later, and feet from our home, not miles. Feet. I tried numerous times to determine the number of feet from our house to that corner before we moved bought the house. I was concerned about the proximity to the power lines, and electo-magnetic frequencies. Why? I was concerned about the safety of our family. Feet from our house. Four to five hundred feet from our house.
Track 11: Parked
This is the unfinished song that Dylan recorded in August of 2013. I love this, because there are parts where I can hear his voice as it was before the accident. I miss that voice. The lyrics are pretty good, and you can hear his voice.
This:
…
we could sleep in the car
we could listen to songs
but i can tell by your face
we dont fit in this place
and you knew all along
all along
…
along with cyclical guitar outro just fits. I can see a young, idealistic couple longing to get out of Santa Clarita and run off somewhere to finish school or experiance life some other place. Feeling that they didn’t belong here. Maybe someday they would come back and raise a family of their own. Cyclical.
Track 13: I’ll Be There
A complete thought in 2011. This great because it is all Dylan. He chose the song, originally by A Change Of Pace.He tried a couple others first, but couldn’t get them right. He sang the song. And he finished the song. Because he wanted to. The bridge is the part that affects me.
I chose this initially to end with. The sound of kids playing affects me now. Even before all this. I think I know how grandparents or potential grandparents must feel at this point in their lives. The loss of Dylan only stirs up those emotions even more now. I wonder about things like my grandfather. If he were with us today, he would wonder about the legacy of his family’s name. Will it continue? Dylan wanted to get married. Dylan wanted to have children. Dylan had met somebody that he was very much in love with. Dylan and Thalia had plans. Responsible plans. Plans they never got to see come to fruition. At this point, we don’t know if it will continue.
Track 15: Early Over Last
The first few times I listened to this, I cried. The combination of Dylan and Donna laughing over some of the last original guitar music Dylan had recorded was just unbearable. The dichotomy of the elated, unsolicited giggles of a young Dylan with his mommy over the slow meloncholy instrumental take on Dylan’s original, Parked is, I think, a great emotional expression of what it is to have a child and then lose him. As it fades, I realize that my son is not coming home.
While doing a little family trip for research on missions for the fourth grade, we happened upon this record store. Instantly, Dylan and Jim entered my mind and a conversation I had with Dylan before he left to go to Santa Cruz for school. When I asked Dylan if he found anything he can do while up there he said he already has the information for the record store in town. He figured it was going to be a good place to hang out. I laughed and told him he sounded so much like his Dad. This world is a lesser place without him. I love you kid and miss you everyday.
