Meanderings and Musings of a Cluttered Mind

Chapter 5             I disconnected from the travel agency and hit the answer button to connect with Ruth, the woman who gave birth to Devin nearly 22 years ago.             600 miles away, she just finished the hike, dropped off everyone at a grassy lunch spot, and went to park our maroon, Chrysler Plymouth mini-van in one of the asphalt lots in Devil's Head State Park She sat inside the van, got my voicemail, and called back, waiting for me to pick up.             My mouth went dry as I prepared to say … what? How do you tell your wife her child is dead?             The next few seconds are seared into my brain.             “Hi honey,” I said flatly.             “Gary, what’s wrong?!?”             I paused and started to form words I did not want to say.             “Devin’s … been in a car accident …”             “Oh no! What happened? Is he in the hospital? What hospital is he at?”             I didn’t answer right away.             “What hospital is he

CHAPTER 4             We got back to my mother’s house and I collapsed in a chair. I tried to call Ruth once more, got her voicemail again, and hung up without leaving a message. She would get it soon enough. I knew they canoed the day before, and were probably hiking today.             I called up my e-mail and did something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I clicked on the photo Lou sent and blew up to a larger size.             On the screen in front of me was a tightly cropped face shot of Devin, obviously taken on the highway, obviously dead.             It was Devin, but did I really think it wouldn’t be?             He was dead.             I called Lou back to make it official, and asked him to tell me more about the accident.             “Gary,” Lou said, “I will never lie to you. There are things I won’t tell you, but I won’t lie. He did have lower body trauma. Again, Gary, I am so sorry …”              What wasn't he telling me? I didn't have th

Sorry to do this out of order, but I figured now that Chapter 1 is necessary to put everything into context, so here is an excerpt from that chapter. CHAPTER 1             Our family began planning our annual, neighborhood canoe trip back in February 2011. Every year in August, for the last 10 years, several neighbors and friends have gotten together to spend a weekend canoeing down the Wisconsin river and camping on sand bars, which are like mini-islands, along the way.             Word of caution: There are no bathrooms on these weekend excursions. If you need a toilet, you carry a shovel into a wooded area on a sandbar. Some are able to make it an entire weekend, but most end up breaking down and saying, “I need to walk the shovel.”             And we all know what “walking the shovel” means.             It truly is roughing it.             Devin has been on most of these yearly canoe trips, and could be a paddling fool on the water, where he could show off his boundle

CHAPTER 3             We made it to the parking lot and the phone rang. It was Lou Denko again.             “Gary, I hate to do this to you, and this is not the usual way we do this, but I need you to identify Devin. Can I send you an e-mail …”             I hadn’t thought of this. They still needed a positive I.D.             “I don’t want to get your hopes up. This is a one in a million chance here, but we can’t do the autopsy until we know for sure …”             Autopsy? They have to cut up my son?             Dear God.             I swallowed hard again.             “Lou, can we have an open casket?”             Years earlier I went to see Roman at the funeral home. His casket was closed. What a horrible injustice that must have been for his family. Not only is your son dead, but you can’t even see him.             “Yes, you can,” Lou said.             He told me a little bit more about the hours after Devin’s death.             He had his Renaissance F

CHAPTER 2 August 7     The Wheelchair Games were a blast, and inspirational at the same time. Watching hundreds of paralyzed athletes compete and excel in events that any one of us would bomb in was awe-inspiring.     Some had been paralyzed after their military service in car accidents. Others were paralyzed or lost limbs in various wars. None of them had a bad attitude.     It was my job to help with media and write stories. While there was a sizeable public affairs staff, I became particularly close with Tomah Jim and Kathleen Pomorski, another public affairs officer from the Coatesville, Pa., VA hospital. If we weren’t hanging out together on the job, we were usually getting dinner or sharing a beer afterward, patting each other on the back, talking smack, and making fun of one another.     In my pocket was a commemorative coin we all received as a token of our service. I don’t collect many of these military-style coins, but this one was special to me. The front had the artwo

Always knew “Jesus Saves,” but didn’t know “Juicy Loves.” Hell, I don’t even know who Juicy is. I saw a girl walking out of work the other day with a big, black handbag and the phrase scrawled on the side.  I’d have asked, but I’m normally too shy. Besides, it was a big bag. No telling how much mace and brass knuckles she had inside. Confuse me for a stalker once, shame on you … The purse reminded me of all those Asian kids in – you know, Asia (hence the Asian kids) – wearing T-shirts with English phrases that made no sense. They’d say things like, “My eraser dazzles peace fascinating.” This wouldn’t be complete without some photos to prove my point. I suppose we could just Bing it, but honestly, does anyone do that? That just sounds like another goofy phrase that doesn’t make sense. These were Googled. Suppose we can’t blame the Japanese and Korean kids for not knowing their English. For a couple years I walked around with a custom-made jacket from Korea and thought it had

"So, ya' wanna go deer huntin' after I fill that cavity?" "So, ya' like to deer hunt? Would you like to go deer hunting sometime?" I've had plenty of dentists tell me to spit (get your minds out of the gutter!), and plenty of dentists yell for not flossing enough, but never been asked to go kill a deer ... until I moved to Wisconsin. Eleven years later, I still remember that's the way Dr. Pete Janovic introduced himself to me. It was even funnier back then because I thought everybody in Wisconsin -- and especially Doctor Pete -- had an accent somewhere between the Swedish Chef and a bad Sarah Palin impersonation. I didn't know who Sarah Palin was 11 years ago, mind you, but once I heard her say, "You betcha," I said to myself, "Oh! So that's how Petey and everybody else sounds!" I'm also aware after more than a decade in Wisconsin, I sometimes sound like that myself, ya know! You betcha. Pete became our