A Year Ago

It’s been a year since the culmination of 2 pretty bad things played out in my life. It feels weird to say that I don’t mind recalling that time, and there may even be some fondness in my recollection. I don’t mean to be disrespectful to my dad, whom I lost very quickly and in the midst of my own health issues, but looking back on that time is not just a reminder of loss, but also one of love and coming together of people who loved and supported me through it all. How can I not think about that outpouring of love and not be moved to tears? I want to always remember all the good and the bad and the weird about that time.

I want to remember how my sister would begin emails that contained updates about my dad's failing health with pictures of puppies and kittens being adorable and non-stressful.

I want to remember the crazy/fun trip we took to Chicago with McLaine and Andrew and Andrea and Phil for Mer's birthday party after I’d finally discovered the cause of my health issues was a giant cyst on my ovary, but didn’t know what would happen next. How we rented the van; the amazing generosity of Ryan and the food and drinks; being saved by Aubrey; Joy showing us around her ‘hood; carrying a giant cake through the Chicago night life.

I want to remember the vacation Matt and I and his mom and sister took to California the week before it all went down. How we stayed with family we’d never met who turned out to be awesome and fun and so generous and kind; reconnecting with old friends; finding out about the local earthquake from CTAY across the country.

I want to remember how I didn’t have time to dread or fear or overthink or overplan the surgery because the surgeon had an opening for the very next day. I want to remember how we went out to Zingerman’s Roadhouse the night before and had whiskey because we hadn’t fully read the pre-surgery paperwork yet that said not to have any alcohol the day before.

I want to remember how my sister drove and drove and drove back and forth across the Midwest to be with the people she loved when they needed her most.

I want to remember waking up after surgery feeling I must be okay even if I was missing an unknown number of organs (and finding out it was only one organ of consequence by overhearing a nurse whisper it to another nurse when they changed shifts). I want to remember how I finally regain enough consciousness to realize my glasses were resting on my chest so I could put them on when I woke up.

I want to remember the first time I stood up again after my surgery and felt like I was a chest and some legs attached by only the most tenuous connection in between, as if my whole abdomen had been scooped out of my body. I want to remember how thankful I was that my family took me home to care for me (to measure out my meds, and help me get out of bed, and bring me food, and do my dishes) because I felt truly helpless on my own.

I want to remember how my sister loaned me her iPad to play Threes, and how I was playing it when she got the call that she needed to go back to Allegan immediately. I want to remember how my heart raced knowing my dad had reached the end of his fight. And I want to remember how my heart ached for my sister who had driven so much in so few days, and had to travel alone again, because I was too weak to make the trip with her.

I want to remember how my mom told me the next morning, in the gentlest way she could, that my dad had died. I want to remember how I couldn’t let myself cry because it hurt my mending insides too damn much.

I want to remember the first time the doorbell rang and it was flowers for me, and then the second and the third and the fourth… I had no idea people would send me flowers and I felt so awed by their thoughtfulness. I want to remember all the wonderful people who told me they loved me in cards and gifts and texts and visits.

I want to remember how my sister drove back to me before finally heading home. I want to remember how Jen brought her a care package before she left, because she could see that my sister needed just as much care as me.

I want to remember how CTAY texted me almost every day to see how I was doing.

I want to remember how Matt cared for me for days without complaining, tracking my my meds, handing me stuff, and letting me feel however I needed to feel. And how he trusted me home alone with the internet and the credit cards when I started to get better but was still housebound.

I want to remember how people made us food, and sent us food, and had food delivered, and drove through football traffic to bring us food, and came over at lunch to eat with me, and made me laugh even though they knew they shouldn’t.

I want to remember how Kezia visited me and helped me read through leave of absence paperwork and built me a spreadsheet to calculate time off.

I want to remember how I didn’t have the focus to read anything so I binged on Netflix and John Oliver while I plotted and executed the most elaborate Halloween costume I’d ever devised.

I want to remember how I picked out some mums for my dad’s grave, and how I was brave and shoveled dirt onto it.

I want to remember how my sister persevered even though nobody would have blamed her for flipping out at any point across August through October when she had to be everywhere and handle everything and take on other people’s stress and make decisions and deal with things going wrong and watch helplessly as people she loved were broken and lost.

I want to remember all those things so I don’t forget why I’m a different person than I used to be. So that when someone else is going through something hard, I can reach out and share love with them, so they too will be able to look back and remember their trials with a bittersweet fondness despite the pain, knowing they were supported and not alone.

If you prayed for me, or cared for me, or spent even a passing thought on me last year, Thank You. I could not have gotten here without you. If you prayed that I would come through my hard times knowing I was loved and not alone, your prayers were answered, and I never want to forget.

Autumn I'm In Love

This might be a pinch premature, but today as I wrote outside wearing my favorite sweatshirt, this is what my heart sang to me:

Autumn I’m in Love
(apologies to The Cure for this Friday I’m In Love re-write…)

I don’t care if Summer’s blue
Winter grey and freezing, too
Springtime I don’t care about you
It’s Autumn I’m in love.

Snowmen you can fall apart
April showers break my heart
May flowers don’t even start
It’s Autumn I’m in love.

December wait
And Christmas always comes too late
September never hesitate…

I don’t care if Summer’s hot
Winter days are full of rot
Springtime bulbs in every lot
It’s Autumn I’m in love.

Spring rain falling on your head
Snowy winter stay in bed
Summer sunburn turns you red
It’s Autumn I’m in love!

December wait
And Christmas always comes too late
September never hesitate…

Just look to the skies
It’s a wonderful surprise
To see a breeze and a full moon rise
Gourds and apples abound
Crunching leaves on the ground
Pumpkin lattes and pies all around the town
Donuts, take a big bite
It’s such a gorgeous sight
To drink mulled cider on a brisk fall night
You can never get enough
Enough of this stuff
It’s Autumn I’m in love!

I don’t care if Summer’s blue
Winter grey and freezing, too
Springtime I don’t care about you
It’s Autumn I’m in love.

Snowmen you can fall apart
April showers break my heart
May flowers don’t even start
It’s Autumn I’m in love.

Mr. Porter's Famous Wagon Sale

My friend Nick is more on top of his photos than anyone I know. Whenever he goes to some event or place that might be interesting, he brings his camera along, slung across his chest like a bandolier. I mention that last part only because I am so amazed at how fast he can wriggle his arm into and out of the camera strap when he is ready to go or to take a picture (though in crowds I've sometimes seen him skillfully shoot from the chest to avoid that maneuver). Within hours, I'll receive a notification that a photo album is up online, or see individual pictures posted to Facebook or on Instagram. By contrast, I've been meaning to put photos up in this blog post for about 2 weeks, and to the chagrin of our parents, the photos from our wedding almost 8 years ago have never been made into a sharable album.

A staple of the long summer holiday weekends in Allegan is Richard Porter's wagon sale. Over the weekend of July 4th, my mom, my sister, Matt, and I drove out there to see what treasures Mr. Porter had collected from the various estates he had purchased and spread out on the beds of wagons in his expansive lawn for our perusal.

One of several rows of wagons, not to mention the barn filled with furniture.

Avocado green fuzzy bathroom scale. Quite narrow!

Let's not go hunting and say we did by hanging others' trophy antlers on our walls.

This little guy had a slit in the back of his head to accept your coins.

Vintage wools and furs hung on many of the wagons going for a fraction of their original cost at $25.

Mishka, the mascot of the 1980 Moscow Olympic Games. Wait, didn't we boycott that one?

My mom and Matt shopping, with bonus photobomb by longtime family friend, Ray, because you always see someone you know at the wagon sale! (Or the belongings or photos or pill containers of someone you know who has recently deceased...)

Can anyone explain to me what is going on in this picture?

Nun doll!

Another woman and I were both considering this box, but all the fabric was frighteningly polyester.

She's been haunting my dreams ever since.

Later that day my mom said she wished she had a sprinkler, and made me wish I'd picked up this cute little guy for her.

Steampunk biplane out of watch parts! Pretty neat, actually.

Creepy wooden pointing-toe ashtray. Because why?

 

What we actually purchased. My sister gifted me the picture. The bottle says "Up John" on it.

If you see anything here you can't live without, you can always try to find it at the next wagon sale over Labor Day weekend! :D

The Half Marathon

I did it! I ran 13.1 miles in one go—in the rain no less! The funny thing is, when you train for something, it kind of just feels like no big deal when you accomplish it, because it isn’t as hard as it seemed before you began training for it. I think I held onto the notion that it was going to be nigh impossible, or at least hellish, until maybe mile 6 of the race, at which point I lost track of how far I had come and how far I had left to go (because it is hard to slowly count to 13 over the course of 2 hours) and just enjoyed it. Yes, I know, it’s disgusting, but I actually enjoyed it, rain and all.

As of the Thursday before the race, the forecast was 60s and sunny. On Friday, I checked again and saw that my perfect race day weather had deteriorated to 50s and 60% chance of rain. By Saturday, it was low 50s with 100% chance of rain during the whole of the race. I began to panic. I had no idea what to do in those conditions as I had carefully avoided rain during the whole of my 7 week training. I googled all kinds of advice about running in the rain, texted my runner friend Yuri to corroborate my research, and just generally whined and fretted constantly for the next 24 hours that I would be miserable the whole time and I had no idea why I was doing this anyway. But I felt better as soon as I got to the starting line and saw what everybody else was wearing. I’ve never seen so many different ways to wear a plastic bag: in shoes, on head (shower cap?), with arms tucked inside, with arm holes cut out, cropped around the waist… Most people compensated for the rain not at all, or with these variously worn plastic bags. Very few people had on the rain gear I envisioned for myself and felt sure everyone else who was experienced would be wearing.

Pre-race dry photo

In the end, I was pleased with my own choice of clothing. My long-sleeve shirt retained some of my heat, but only a thin layer of water. It didn’t chaff. There was no question about whether I would wear my favorite running pants with pocket big enough for my phone, but when my underwear got soaked through, I sometimes had trouble getting all my wet layers to feel comfortable around my waist. I used a plastic bag to protect my phone, which was effective, but I only had a quart-size instead of a sandwich-sized one and so it sort of was too big. The obnoxious orange wool socks I chose were good for not chaffing or retaining too much water, and I pulled them up like a dweeb to cover the skin between my shoes and my pants. Having a hat was clutch, which kept my eyebrows dry and diverted water to drip off the bill instead of my nose.

Mid-race, but still smiling

Due to the cold and rain, my legs were numb from a very early point in the race, so I just ignored them and let them carry me in the current of the other runners. Being surrounded by moving people makes it easier to feel like you also should be moving. I was surprised to realize that at no point during the race did I think I wouldn’t make it—I’ve been on 3-mile runs and been convinced for 95% of it that I wouldn’t last—and I only really wanted to stop at Mile 11 because my right knee was tight and starting to hurt. Speaking of Mile 11, that’s about when everybody starts to pick it up and you are passed by people you passed miles ago. This was humbling, but my knee and my memory of the famous hill at the end kept me going my same steady pace.

Official stats

According to the MapMyRun app on my phone, I was running about a 9:45 min/mile pace, but I was reaching the miles sooner and sooner before the official mile markers on the road, and in the end MapMyRun recorded my run as a bit longer than 13.1 miles. Hard to say why it was off from the official race time/distance, which put me at 9:55 min/mile. Either way, a good pace, and I hit my secondary goal of under 10 min/miles, which I honestly thought was a long shot (primary goal was just to finish!), especially in the rain.

MapMyRun stats

The hill at the end did not impress me after all the hype (The 2nd-to-last hill on the other hand…). In any case, being able to see the finish line was very motivating. When I train, I just listen for the lady in my ear (i.e. MapMyRun) to tell me when I have completed my milage, so it was nice to have a fixed point to focus on, and I was able to dig deep to find some hidden strength to kick it up a few notches as I approached the line. Once I decide to do that, no one passes me anymore, and I’m that annoying person who swoops in and passes people at the finish line, not because I am attempting to beat them, but because they slowed down. What can I say, my Track and Field background taught me to leave it all on the track and push to the finish no matter the place. Plus it feels incredible to run fast (for short distances). If you are able, I encourage you to do it for like 3 seconds sometime. The wind on your face, the feeling of your legs cranking as fast as they can go… But seriously, why don’t more people sprint at the end? It’s like the best part.

My cheering section for the day was the brave duo of Matthew and Julie, who came out to cheer me on somewhere in the middle and who met me at the finish line with warm hugs and dry towels. It was a surprise and delight to see my loved ones mid-race, and a relief to be led to a warm, dry car at the end. If I hadn’t begun to feel a chill, I may have checked out the beer tent, and if the sun had been shining, we may have stayed for Taste of Ann Arbor so I could have worn my finisher’s medal around town with pride, but alas. I have no plans and no expectations of my future running/exercise goals right now, but maybe I’ll be back next year. Hard to say. Watch this space for more details!

Post-race hugs

Run

I am presently training for a half marathon. I'm not entirely sure why. I guess it's kind of because I can, and sort of to prove something to myself, and also because it's good to challenge yourself, and maybe because I wanted to accomplish something of note in running before I give it up for something different because running is so dang boring. If I think about it too hard, especially while I am in the middle of a run, none of it seems quite worth it. I would still be a fine person if I never ran 13.1 miles in one go. Holy poopers, 13.1 miles??? Why am I doing this?? That's so long! So boring! So bad for my knees! (It's best if I don't mention the number of miles to myself. "Half marathon" sounds better. It just sounds like "a run" and not "over 2 hours of the same monotonous activity that sometimes hurts".)

Anyway, where was I? Oh right. I'd still be a fine person if I had dedicated these 6 weeks of training so far toward something else. My novel, perhaps. Or making my home and yard into an efficient, clean, polished specimen of modern dwelling. Actually, I'm not so sure about the 2nd one. I think housework is what I give up first when I make time to exercise (though obviously some of it still does get done since I gotta do laundry so I have non-stinky clothes to run in), but if my bills were all filed and my hedges perfectly trimmed and the path to my front door was a mosaic of pavers instead of a muddy patch of dirt and a pile of broken concrete, how is that furthering the human race any more than one person running for exercise? They both have value, but they're apples and oranges. So I'd still be a fine person either way. But whatever, I'm 6 weeks into a 7 week training so I'm committed now.

I could ramble on about my history of running and what it might mean to be doing this now, and who I have been encouraged by, and what my goals are for the race, etc. etc., but I'll save that for my acceptance speech when they hand me my medal after crossing the finish line at the top of that big hill on Main St. next Sunday. Instead, I'll leave you with this picture of what satisfaction looks like after having run 8 continuous miles for the first time.

But you know what else is a good picture? This picture of what exhaustion looks like after having traversed 10 miles by foot for the first time. In contrast, 10 miles didn't feel satisfying as much as "Oh thank God I made it back to the car and can stop now!"

I hope somebody takes the time to chalk up the half marathon route with inspirational sayings like this one that several weeks ago propelled me on to my fastest 5k time:

IT DID YOU!

An Interview with Little Leviathan

Several years ago, I had the opportunity to interview Dane Hillard for a developer position at the company where we both used to work. Don’t worry, I wasn’t called upon to evaluate his coding skills, but rather to see if he would be a good fit on the team. I gave him the thumbs up (literally—we took a show of thumbs) and I am so glad my colleagues agreed, because now we are friends and I have the chance to interview him again. This time, you get to decide if he’s a good fit for your ears! His folk album, Little Leviathan, is coming out May 1st and I got excited and asked him a bunch of questions about it.

R: When did you first pick up the guitar?

D: My dad had a Gibson Super 400 since before I was born. He'd pull it out from time to time to play and I was drawn to it. It's a beautiful instrument and it was pretty difficult not to want to grab it. I didn't do anything serious with guitar until I was almost done with middle school, though.

R: It does look pretty. You don't by any chance have any little-kid-Dane-holding-dad's-guitar pictures, do you?

D: A picture of that doesn't exist, to my knowledge. I've probably already got facial hair in any picture of me holding that guitar!

R: So like age 10, then? What made you decide to tackle writing and recording a full-length album?

D: I think the idea to write a full album came from this organic process where I wrote several songs over the course of a couple of years. When I realized I'd finally written enough material to compile an album, I was surprised! Once I decided to record it all, it was still another year or more before I actually finished it. I guess I'm sort of slow on the uptake!

R: What parts of the process did you really enjoy?

D: I enjoyed the actual moments of recording the most. Sitting there in the studio, trying to get the perfect take. It's a great challenge of my consistency and accuracy as a guitarist and vocalist. I've also enjoyed the process leading up to the release—queueing up all the metadata, artwork, and audio for distribution. Trying to figure out marketing right now.

Artwork for Hopeless Romantic

R: Have you written anything since you recorded that you wished you could have put on the record?

D: It might surprise you that I haven't written much other than the songs that are on this album. I guess I had a muse 5 or 6 years ago that's decided to move on! I hope to start writing more in the near future, but I prefer to let inspiration strike than to try and force things onto a page. The songs on this album came about fairly organically and I'm happy with how they came out. Collectively I think these songs fit together as an isolated work, so I don't feel any regrets about the track list.

R: That's good. Regrets are dumb. Did you have any formal music training growing up?

D: My first real foray into music was joining the school band in fifth grade. I started on the alto saxophone. Around the same time, I started taking piano lessons from a private teacher. I continued both until I graduated high school. I think the experiences in each of those allowed me to expand easily into other instruments and genres, at least in terms of interest.

R: What bands/artists influence your song writing?

D: I listen to the craziest mix of music, so if I listed everything here it would probably be overwhelming. A few that definitely stand out are Sufjan Stevens, Iron & Wine, and Alexi Murdoch. I enjoy the content of their music and text and I've definitely pulled elements that I like into my own writing process. They all write from very intimate personal experience, which has been a major inspiration for my work as well.

R: A lot of the songs sound somber. Do you find yourself writing about specific events or feelings? To try and capture certain moods?

D: This album came out of a time of mixed emotion. These songs cover both the ups and the downs of some of my relationships at the time, so the bipolarity shows! I think that's really how an album needs to be, though; without emotional dynamism there isn't much to support musical dynamism. As I mentioned earlier, personal experience is often a big motivator for the moods and ideas expressed in music.

R: I’m really digging one of your songs (Roots), which is a collaboration—is that with a friend?

D: Roots was recorded with a friend of mine. I had written that song and planned on performing it for this talent show, but wanted some harmonies to go along with it. Mark (Origami Incident) came up with the second voice in just a few days. I was blown away and decided it needed to be included in the recorded version.

R: Those harmonies are fantastic. And the album artwork is gorgeous—I wish there were a picture for every song! Are you going to make any physical versions of this album?

D: You'll be happy to know that there IS a piece of artwork for every song! Looking through this album on SoundCloud or Bandcamp will give people the ability to see each song's artwork. The Bandcamp digital album includes the original sketches for those pieces in the bonus material. The art was done by my very talented friend Katie Eberts. While it's still possible I'll change course, there aren't currently plans to create a physical version of this album.

R: Yay! I love Katie's work! Any story behind the name Little Leviathan?

D: Little Leviathan means a big guy in a small world. It means large ambition, and it means feeling closed in from time to time. Being 6'2" with a heavy frame, I sometimes feel a bit cramped compared to the average person. I also have all these hobbies and goals I pursue regularly and sometimes I feel like society isn't built for that anymore. The Renaissance celebrated these kinds of things but now, at least in America, the 9-5 work life is the norm. That can be limiting for creative types!

R: If it was feasible, would you work fewer hours at a day job for a pro-rated salary in order to have more time to pursue your creative hobbies (and possible other sources of income)?

D: I'd love to be able to use more of my time doing fun things! Right now I'm doing what I'm best at during my day job, so it feels right. I'd rate myself as mediocre to decent at the rest of my hobbies at the moment, but if ever I become truly skilled at one of them you can be sure I'll run with it!

R: In your own personal renaissance, what else would you creatively pursue?

D; If time—or sleep, I suppose—grew on trees, you would see me doing a lot of photography. I really enjoy editorial and street-style fashion and would love to travel around to the fashion weeks in New York, Milan, and Paris. I would even be interested in taking some classes on clothing design because the materials and technique aspects appeal to me as much as the creative and graphic aspects. Fashion is a great way to express individuality! You'd also be able to find me on the dance floor pretty often. I've done competitive ballroom dancing for almost 7 years and I've recently been doing social dances like west coast swing and hustle. Hip hop sounds fun too, so maybe I'll try that next! I love the technicality and expression involved with dancing and it pairs nicely with music.

Artwork for Lilliputian Sight

R: What are your goals for this project? What outcome(s) would feel like it was a success?

D: I don't have many specific goals other than sharing what I've created with the world. As my debut into music, it's unlikely to be wildly successful in terms of sales! I'd consider a success to be inspiring another musician to release his/her music or for a person to be touched by the music I've written. Sales would be a nice side effect, of course!

R: Have you/will you perform(ed) any live shows?

D: I used to play with some frequency at a few locations in Ann Arbor. I don't have any solid plans to perform but I'd like to when the time is right!

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If you want to listen to, buy, or find out more about Dane and his music, look for “Little Leviathan” on your favorite social media site or iTunes, or click the links scattered through the post. Thanks, Dane, for taking the time to answer my questions and share your experiences!

Am Reading

(EDIT: Left Brain hates it when I post hand-drawn stuff like this! Which is exactly why I let Right Brain do it. But in order to appease Left Brain, I am adding this note, so you don't judge LB for RB's lack of concern for things like color correction, straightness of drawn lines, legibility of handwriting, etc. RB just wants to be friends.)