One day when we were buying the townhome Jim was inside the office signing documents and Dylan and I were sitting in the car waiting for him. We were being silly and laughing and talking about random things. He was around 5 years old. Somehow we got on the subject of how old Jim and I would be when Dylan was…….(insert age). Dylan went through each year, or so it seemed, and I had to respond with how old Jim and I would be when he got to said age.
When we started to get up to when Dylan would be 70 or 80….. I responded with something along the lines of, well mommy and daddy may not be here when you are that old, and had to explain why. I told him that Mommy and Daddy would be very old and may not be alive when he gets to be that old. I never expected what would come next. Dylan began to cry with the thought that we would die one day. I tried to calm him down and explained that he will have a family of his own but he wasn’t letting up. He seemed to cry for what seemed like forever. He swore on that day, that he would buy a beach house that was big enough for all of us to live in, him with his wife and children and Jim and I. Marisa wasn’t born yet. I tried to tell Dylan that he would change his mind and not want to live with his old parents when he got old enough to be married and have kids of his own but he swore that we would always live together. Who was I to argue; after all he was buying us a beach house!!
By the time Jim got back in the car, everything was back to normal and I told him the wonderful news that Dylan would be buying us a big beach house someday. He was somewhat confused as to what went on while he was gone for us to come in to such a windfall. I waited until later to tell him because I didn’t want Dylan to get upset all over again.
The beach house was always something that we talked about through the years. We always reminded Dylan that he promised to buy us our beach house one day.
I guess all of those tears were for naught; as he no longer has to fret about when Jim and I die……
Hopefully one day Jim and I can buy that beach house in memory of Dylan….
Monthly Archives: May 2014
Morro Bay – August 2009
Showstoppers, then and now …
Around Christmas 2013.
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.
Another holiday weekend is here.
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.
Fine Art at the Getty
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.
Done with Cherrystone clams.
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.
Jim Stafford
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.
Rest in peace, Jim. We will all miss you.