So my mom just made a video to Terence Martin’s song, “Used Cars.”
Terence Martin was an accomplished folk singer/songwriter who has played all over the East. He released 6 albums, and his seventh and final CD, “Field Recordings” will be out next month.
Terence also happened to be my stepfather, until he died of pancreatic cancer in November.
Anyway, here’s the video. Enjoy!
I love you. And I miss you. Terribly.
Gram and I did some work in the basement. Organized files, moved books, neatened your office a bit. Hope you don’t mind, but I read some of your writing notes.
I wish you could have finished your book.
I wish Gram wasn’t in such a hurry to rearrange your office, give away a lot of your belongings, change the voice on the answering machine.
I wish Mom and Asher could have shown up today.
Dammit, I wish YOU could have been here today.
But I guess it’s hard to celebrate an age that you didn’t quite reach.
I know you’re never gonna get this, and that you’re completely unaware of anything that’s going on.
But if you did, you know that I miss you. I miss you. I really fucking miss you.
Happy Birthday, Pa.
wooden nickels : terence martin
put a pair of pennies on my eyes when i go up in smoke
(for the record, they didn’t)
(but god, so thin, so much foundation, must have been so jaundiced. there is a particular pulling at the cheek-chin area that is universal to those dying of cancer and this man had it and oh, god)
Ugh, yep. He was so jaundiced. And he did lose so much weight.
(Except in his belly, where he kept gaining fluid…)
It was kind of unbelievable how much he deteriorated in three months.
This is for the funny guys.
This is for the type that will shamelessly exchange pulled strange
faces with you from across the dinner table.
This is for those who brushed one tooth and saved things for later.
This is for my human mood elevator.
And these, that you’re hearing are words, words, words…
This is for the witty wisecrackers.
The ones who could carry on a joke for ages, even after hearing five
“na-na’s,” and will without a doubt remind you to take the blue pill.
Because they know what’s important enough to remember.
Remember, remember, remember these words, words, words…
This is for the quietly loud.
This is for the humbly proud.
For those who truly live and chose to selflessly give to others
without demanding, expecting, or even wanting anything in return,
besides the satisfaction of teaching others and having the lessons learned.
Speaking of lessons…
This is for those who did not major in education, and did not become
any kind of schoolteacher, but still managed to instruct countless
others a great deal.
This is for, hands down, one of my favorite educators.
The one who managed to make a game out of teaching me how to work
hard, and improve my reading, writing, verbal, and mathematical
skills, strengthening my brain, and showing me the importance of
strategy and delayed gratification,
simply by laying a board on the living room floor, making me take
seven letters, and having me use my words, words, words.
This is for you, Pa.
Who taught me by example honesty, humility, modesty, patience, humor,
loyalty, and love
through the presence of,
and the lack thereof
your
words, words, words.
and I’m still missing it like hell.
Well, sort of.
I’m glad that I no longer have to be responsible for kids, but I still miss being there. With my friends. And A-TEAM.
I had a tough time deciding weather or not I wanted to return to camp for this summer. I almost didn’t. And I’m so freaking glad I did.
This year made all the difference.
With that being said though, I will most likely not return next year.
It’s hard.
This whole summer has been hard.
I knew it would be. I had worked there before, so I knew going in that I would be underpaid, overworked, and shafted.
What I didn’t know, and what I couldn’t be warned about, was just how much family shit would arrive on our doorsteps, and then proceed to hit our ceiling fans.
A ton of it showed up this summer.
I’ll spare you lovely followers the details, and give you the in-a-nutshell version:
-My grandpa was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in April. Later, in mid July, we also found out he has stomach cancer, that has already metastasized to his lungs and liver.
-My gram, who has had to live with arthritis for years, had to have a second hip replacement three days ago.
-And lastly, my stepdad was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, that has already metastasized to his liver.
…yep.
We’re all hoping for the best. But I’m finding it so hard to be optimistic.
I used up all the energy I had this summer to put on a happy face for the campers, and find ways to travel to my grandpa’s chemo appointments on my days off.
At least they seem to be working.
And at least I now have my gram’s car indefinitely, so that traveling will no longer be a royal pain in my ass.
It’s a shitty silver lining.
But what do you do? Can’t dance.
Which wasn’t exactly a surprise.
We all knew it was going to happen sooner or later. She was in her eighties, and she had cancer pretty much everywhere.
Frankly, we were all pretty surprised she lived as long as she did.
Even so, there’s no denying that this is still pretty difficult. Especially for Terence. His mom lived out in California, so he’s heading there tomorrow. My mom will join him next week.
This is one of those moments where I actually wish I was with my folks. For support, for solidarity.
My mom copied me on the official death notice e-mail that she sent out to everyone, with my name included in the family signature. And even though I appreciate that, it didn’t feel quite right.
Probably because I’m not home with them now.
I didn’t know her that well. And I’m not expected to fly out to California, and go to her memorial service.
But I still wish I could do something, other than ruminate over it.
It’s the first time I won’t be there to celebrate with her in person. (Since I’ve been alive, I mean.)
It feels so weird.
I did my job though. Bought her a gift, mailed her a card. Harassed my brother, until he finally did, as well.
This time last year, I had made a crazy journey, traveling home. I went via ride to a Boston suburb, a commuter T into Boston, a T from North to South Station, a Fung Wah bus to Chinatown, then subwaying to Grand Central, and Metro Northing it to Mamaroneck.
It was nuts, but tons of fun.
I knew I wasn’t going to be doing anything like that this year, since I have Vagina Monologue Rehearsals, not to mention shittons of work to do.
Besides, she’s gonna be coming up to see me in said show next week.
And I know she’s gonna have a good time with Terence, and Asher, and her friends.
But still. I feel pretty strange not being there.
Not too sure how I feel about it.
As of now, we’re on okay terms. And my mom doesn’t really have a problem with bro-bro and I chilling with him, so there shouldn’t be any pre-visit fighting.
Even so, I have this inexplicable feeling of impending disaster. I don’t know why; I just do.
It’s probably because the lack of problems right now means that I’m due for some more.
Just in time for New Years. Great.
