something postive

for the down low on these photos see the previous blog on st. patricks day

St. Patrick's Day Twenty-Ten

It was a gorgeous day starting out like several other recent spring mornings. Nothing but sunshine, the greenage sprouting up all around, blue sky and it was St. Patrick's Day TwentyTen. My first task of the day was to get over to Washington Writer's Academy in Kalamazoo, where Mary works, to read to a group of 4 year olds in the PEEP pre-school room. It had been a while since I had done something like this in my retired state so I was looking forward to it. When I arrived the kids were all over the room having playtime and it was pajama day so that added more to the informality. Many were of course very interested in Mrs. Symon's' husband, Mr. Symons. As they settled down on the rug and I told them I used to be a principal they quieted down pretty well. I read them one story about the sun, moon, the wind, tides called What is the Sun? and then I read them a brief ditty about Leprechauns and their shenanigans. I happened to have one in me pocket to show them too. I read with the Irish accent for the occasion. We all survived unscathed and I left to the sounds of " thank you Mr. Symons" coming from the wee little ones in their portable classroom. Thanks Erin and Mary for the opportunity.

Leaving there I was in pretty good spirits not knowing for sure what the afternoon held but excited about sitting in with Melvis out at the Barking Frog in Augusta where he had taken a last minute gig for the night. After I was home making some lunch I got a call from friend Kelly letting me know that Uncle Jim had passed that morning. He has been referred to in my blog as Jimmy C. at various times since I started writing the blog reporting on outings and misadventures with him. James Claflin was indeed special, kind like his brother, sweet like many of the Claflin clan but his curled up mustache gave away that there may be some mischief hiding behind that smile. He was a man with many lives and he filled all of them. He was determined to get everything he could out of his time and I believe he did. It wasn't easy for him and those who helped to care for him to watch at times but he made it fun and interesting at the same time. I got to know him much better since he moved here from Chicago two years ago after his wife had passed. The only sympathy card I received in the mail after the recent passing of my step-father was from Jimmy C., barely having the strength to sign his name. That was how and who he was. Old school with a flair for the cool and conversation. I would spend my afternoon making calls and listening to Irish laments in the backyard sun. A glass of Scotch was my first toast to my soul brother Jimmy C.

Mary got home and I had to tell her the news, she loved Jimmy because he was thoughtful to women. He knew how to make them feel special and good about themselves. We reminisced that after Jim first moved here to Lake Doster, Mary and I had dinner with him there at the club and the two of them danced at a St. Patrick's party they were having.
This St. Patrick's Day dinner was to be out at the Frog in Augusta. So for the rest of the night as friends Martay,Rebecca, Nealem, Jazzy Jeff, and Lucinda joined us we celebrated life with the musical stylings of Melvis Lane and guests.

We toasted to Jim, we roasted each other and hepped ole Melvis out with percussive sounds, harmonica, saxophone and voices in the night, a night of the new moon.

Play on Brothers, Sing on Sisters, the way all the Jimmy's, Robin's, Billy's, Harry's, Paul's, Busters, Bobby's, Martha's and Lincoln's would want us to, play-long into the sweet days and nights of spring.

a rough patch

"some days are diamonds, some days are rocks, some doors are open, some roads are blocked"

from "Walls" by Tom Petty

One of the first times I met Lincoln Jackson was when he was walking off the football field in Mt. Clemens, Mi. after a Macomb County Arrows semi-pro game. He was all muddy and sweaty and an imposing figure. My mom took me to see one of his games. I was around 11 years old. I knew that he was a local golf pro so the football thing was kind of strange. Within a year or so he would become step-father to my sister and brother and I. Our sister Suzanne would join us within the next year. Linc would also become my one of my bosses at the golf course in the years ahead.

Linc was nicknamed "the Bear" in local Michigan golf circles, he was a big guy. He would always tell you how important it was to get that belly button around to the left of the target with the golf swing and how extra hard it was for him, but he could do it. He was a respected golf instructor and taught thousands of children and adults at Hillcrest Country Club where he worked as a golf professional for many years. Linc passed away this past week while in Hospice, he had a cancerous brain tumor removed in November and complications made it so he would not recover. He was 74 years old.

Golf is a sport that is analogous to life. You've got your nice green fairways where it is much easier to play from and do well and then you have your hazards and rough where things aren't so easy, you can get into trouble or down on yourself. You have a terrible round, want to quit but then you hit that one good shot that makes you come back for more. As in life, there are rough patches and we all go through them. It is what makes us stronger, tests us to see if we will try again, can or will improve, see the positive in our game and in our lives. See that there are folks around us that will support and help us work through those times.

My last visit with Linc was about 10 days ago while I was in Detroit, assisting my mother after her heart surgery. It was a good visit, we discussed some sports, the rare sunshine, some of the pain he was feeling and he seemed to understand what had happened to "his bride" as he called her. On my way out of the room, the firm squeeze of the hand was still there. For some reason I told him to keep "walking on sunshine", he responded with a Linc classic, "indubitably". I figured that would be the last time I would see him on this playing field and it was.

Linc was a teacher of golf, he knew the game held a lot of life's basic secrets and he helped others see that if you worked hard at it, played by the rules (most of the time) maybe you will get better and keep it in the fairway a little more the next time out. Many of his stories that he told over and over were golf related stories. I know this rough patch will pass and tomorrow is another day to swing away. Oh yes and as Linc used to like to say, "Don't rush your back swing".

Signs of Marchness

(the week that was part two):

a quick Monday moanin blog without much moanin; Instead warming signs of Marchness and a thaw on this sunny Monday, my mother seems off to a good start in recovery and it was "precious time" spent just her and I pretty much for a few days laying down the routine of recuperation. Thanks to the other sibs, Den and Jo, Sis Sher and Jim, and Suzanne for their contributions in the process as mom moves ahead. My step-dad who is in Hospice had a good day when I visited him last week and his situation is a tough one to get one's head around. He needs prayers and well wishes sent his way too.
After I got back Saturday afternoon, tired but glad be home, albeit with reminders of Maddie, her imprints in the snow being uncovered by the melting, her absence, my main companion>Mary there welcoming me-knowing what the last few days had been like. She had the unpleasant job of removing the "dog stuff" and being around the house without Maddie right away. She got her cry in though which she needed. Were we up for going out Saturday night to see Zion Lion, which we had planned for a couple months before most of this started?
Of course, and though dragging a bit we got our 50 something butts on the dance floor and got the Rasta vibe going. With friends, Tim and Shelley, and a barn full of others, the spirit of Marley (Bob), we grooved the night and worries away. My man Assanne, asked me up to play the big Djembe (conga) again a couple of times. This white, greybeard up there with my brothers and sisters, "jammin, oh yah we jammin" helped to chase the wearies away into the night. " don't worry 'bout a ting, every little ting, gonna be alright".
Sunday, Dr. K and CK had the "boys" over for a gathering of the game. A fine time, exciting game, good company ended the weekend just right, 'cept for the loss by USA but enjoyable nonetheless. What a couple of weeks it has been.
Thanks, all of you for your calls; friends, wife, dad, other mother, bros. and sisters, daughters, nieces, relations, messages and thoughts and prayers, we heard them, felt them. IRIE!!