Bryan sings for Judy

   

Judy and Brian

  Bryan Bowers, the folksinger, storyteller, and autoharpist virtuoso, was coming to Portland to do a concert. Judy was eager to go. She and Bryan know each other from autoharp festivals, and Judy wanted to see"the old fart "one more time. We reserved tickets for Friday night, and I began my usual  fret about the venue and how Judy could navigate it.  I did not know Bryan, but had been a fan since the seventies, when I listened over and over to his first album on a vinyl LP .  I was looking forward to the concert.
    When I came home on Wednesday afternoon, Judy greeted me with,  "We're not going to Bryan's concert on Friday." What? "He's coming here."

Singing True Thomas

    Bryan is tall man: he filled the doorway as he brought his autoharps in. After happy hugs all around he held Judy's hand and sang to her.  He gave an a cappella version of True Thomas, and a fine, complicated  autoharp rendering of Patty Ann.  He told  droll stories on himself as he and Judy traded news of mutual acquaintances. The punch lines of Bryan's  leisurely tales of friends always seem to show the  hidden goodness of the person.

Patty Ann

    Bryan was here for three hours, playing and singing and telling
stories.  He stayed for lunch; I am proud to say that this Virginia boy scarfed down my biscuits.  He presented Judy with his latest CD, recorded live at the recent Winterfolk benefit concert.  "I don't usually like live recordings," he said, "because everything has to be perfect and the audience has to be completely in tune and attentive. But this time it all worked, and it was magic."
     There was magic in our house, too, when Bryan sang for Judy.

Long may you run

   

 When the pulmonologist said to Judy, "You qualify for hospice," we were shocked.  Hospice? That's for people who are dying!  No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
      We are trying to focus on the helpful aspects of hospice. Les reminded us of our mutual friend Hal, who got so much better once he started hospice that he "graduated."  He used to say wryly that he was embarrassed that he was taking such a long time to die. Sandra told me about her father, who improved so much with the extra attention and practical help that his hospice term  had to be renewed. And Paul, with his strongly positive turn of mind, offered, "So somebody tells you you are going to die and you need  some support.  You should listen to the 'here's some support' part.  Think of it as home health care, showing up at your door for free."
     Yesterday a nurse named John came to interview Judy, tell her about the services that hospice provides, and see it she wanted to be under hospice care. She will have a nurse assigned to her, who will come once a week. A social worker will help with equipment, forms, legal and financial concerns. John told Judy that she is high functioning by their standards, and that for some people hospice care extends their lives. Nevertheless he emphasized that, in an emergency, we should call the hospice number rather than 911. A hospice nurse or doctor will come at any time day or night. That would avoid my nightmare scenario of EMTs or emergency room docs doing things to Judy that she would not want and that I don't know enough to prevent. Still, no, no, no, no.
    Although this was a milestone we never wanted to reach, Judy signed up.  Providence hospice will deliver oxygen. I perked up at that. Last Friday, Judy's biweekly oxygen delivery day, she sat up in her recliner until 10:30 at night, waiting for the Lincare oxygen guy. He neither showed up nor called.
      Today after 3 hospice will deliver their standard package of emergency drugs.  Sometime this week Judy's nurse and social worker will make appointments to visit.  There is a chaplain if she wants one. We cannot see a downside except for the psychological.  Just spare us the harpists.
     All week Neil Young has been singing my head, with just a one-word change of lyrics,

Long my you run, long my you run

Although these changes have come.

With your strong heart shining in the sun

Long may you run.

Twenty years together

1997

1996

     Judy and I have been married twice, but we don't count either wedding date as our anniversary.  Long before we were allowed legal marriage,we chose our anniversary.  On the Saturday after Thanksgiving we mark twenty years together.

2001

2002

2004

       When we met, I lived in Eugene and Judy lived in Newport, two hours away on the central Oregon coast. We had a few false starts at the beginning. When she showed up at my door for the first time, I greeted her with, "You're so big!" (I had met her once before, in a group. She hardly said a word and seemed to me to be physically small.)  When we agreed to meet to walk the dogs on the beach at Florence ( an equal drive for each of us) I was an hour and a half late. That was  in the days before cell phones. Somehow I knew this was a woman I had to take seriously, that it might be a real relationship, and I couldn't get myself out of the house. Judy waited for me. After we had known each other for three weeks, she asked me to go to Arizona with her for a New Years' Eve dance. We were both surprised when I said yes.

2005

     All the following spring and summer we traveled between Eugene and Newport. I looked forward all week to seeing Judy. I would drive the two hours with my big unruly dog Tuffy panting over my shoulder. Then I would get to Judy's place, say "Hi, Hon," and promptly fall asleep. The ocean air had that effect on my. Once Judy  arrived in Eugene talking about how she'd had to drive through standing water outside of Bellfountain. She then realized her brakes no longer worked.

2013

That September I moved to Newport.  We were way beyond the second date; nobody could call me a U-Haul lesbian.  (What does a lesbian take on a second date?  A U-Haul.)
     Betsy and Les were the first of my east coast friends to meet Judy.  Betsy drew me aside on the  Newport docks, and said, "She's wonderful!" Twenty years later,  I still think so.

Judy day

Judy being sung to

 "Wonderful things of folks are said 

   when they have passed away.

Roses adorn their narrow bed 

   over the sleeping clay.

Give me the roses while I live, 

    trying to cheer me on.

Useless are flowers that you give

  after the soul is gone,"

Janet

 Fuey sang for  Judy.  The song set the theme of the house concert that Fuey and her daughter Janet gave for Judy in our living room lat Sunday.  Judy was insistent that she wanted only her ukulele group at the concert.  "Janet's flying up from Santa Rosa to play for 5 people plus us?  And what about our friends and neighbors?" I said. But Judy was adamant, and the small group made magic in their honoring of Judy.
   Fuey played autoharp and sang the song Judy had requested, Going to Heaven in a Glad Bag.  Janet,  who made the music at our wedding two years ago, treated us to a variety of tunes. She sang some fine Kate Wolfe songs, which she is regionally famous for. She ended with Give Yourself to Love. There were not many dry eyes.      
         Janet and Fuey wanted to do the concert in spite of the death 5 days before of Fuey's husband and Janet's father Norm. Norm had dementia, but he loved Judy. When we went with Fuey to visit him at the Veterans' Home in Lebanon, he couldn't place us but he knew Judy was someone special.   How his face lit up when he saw her!

Judy with Fuey and Norm

Lemon meringue pie

    After everyone had left from the concert, good neighbor Janet came over with a lemon meringue pie for Judy. "I made two and told Kelli (her daughter) that I'd bring one to her.  She likes lemon meringue.  But Kelli said, "Give it to Judy.  She really loves them.' "
    That evening Judy and I were glowing about what a day it had been.  Judy grinned and named the third good thing,  "And Rosie's coming tomorrow."

Rosie visits

Ghost Candy

Travis and Fanglorico.  Mudlark Theater photo

Jack, Charlie, and Sam prepare for trick or treat

     Charlie on the phone was waxing enthusiastic about his upcoming improv show.  "And maybe you can come, too, Grandma," he added hopefully.  I gave him some nonsense about not being able to leave Judy.  After I hung up, I shook myself and thought Wait a minute!  Judy, of course, urged me to go.  I morphed into a member of a younger generation and booked a trip to Evanston for Friday morning through Sunday morning.  When I told Charlie I was coming, his first words were, "But what about Judy?" Charlie is extraordinarily empathetic for a ten- year -old boy.

Jack

Cool Jack

    The Mudlark Theater Company presented Ghost Candy, a revue of Halloween sketches by a group of 9- to 14 -year- olds. Charlie and his friend Foster were the hosts and announcers. They had worked together for months, coming up with some of the dialog themselves. Charlie played the aggressive, spooky Fanglorico,who got increasingly fed up with  his too-gentle co-host, Travis. The show was fast and funny, with big dance numbers as well as skits.  The kids had fun and showed the kind of pride in themselves that was secondary to  pride in the company and the show.

Eggs Benedict Arnold Palmer

     The day before I left for Evanston I had gotten a smart phone, hoping that Jack would help me learn it. That he did, assiduously.  I had a hard time convincing him that my brain
was full, that I wanted to wait until morning to learn any more new tricks.  But thanks partly to Jack, I can now receive photos on my phone.  Feel free folks; I love photos.

Tina

     Halloween in Evanston was a moving feast of visiting.  Trick or treating happens only between 5 and 7 PM, and the sidewalks are full of children and parents in costume.  Tina, her mother Kateryna, and I played Scrabble in front of the fire while answering the doorbell, oohing and aahing at the little ones in costume. Paul in his traditional Elmo wig ("Good for a bald guy") took Sam and his group around.  Jack was off with his friends, ranging far and wide before heading for a slumber party.  Charlie went to a party next door;  Sam  joined them after sorting out his candy. Friends of  Paul and Tina lingered on the porch, visiting and  catching up before moving on to the next house.

Sam and Kateryna carve a Jack o 'lantern

     Before I left the next morning, Sam asked me, "Would you like some candy to go with the sandwich you are packing for the plane?"  I asked him to choose for me. Sam gave me his favorites from his trick or treat bag: Snickers and a Heath bar.

   

Sisters playing

   

Happiness

Rain dance

Maxine

 I didn't want to leave Judy, but I hadn't seen Maxine and Simone in 10 months. So I booked a trip to Texas. "John and I will  come down and stay with Judy," Rose volunteered immediately. I was ready to stock the refrigerator and leave with a clear conscience, but Judy was dithering. After two weeks she admitted that she would rather that John and Rose came to visit another time. "Things work better when you are here," she said after her first day alone, "but I had to try this."
     Courtney, Maxine and Simone picked me up at the College Station airport. Simone took care to wear the dance outfit that Maxine had worn in the

Not a metaphor

Maldives. Back at the Ninja castle Maxine climbed the walls, telling me that in her case it was not a metaphor. After dinner Maxine did her nightly music practice on the guitar and drums, with Courtney patiently helping her through the complicated patterns.
   After school the next day, Maxine played and played with her best friend Rossi, with little sister Simone trailing behind. "Watch this," Maxine shouted, as she stood up on the swings. I was transported back to my days of doing tricks with my sisters on the swings. Thank goodness Maxine has not yet discovered jumping off.  The three girls swung and zipped around the grassy playground for more than an hour, chattering and laughing.

Swim meet

Princess boots

Scooter  in the rain

    Later we went to the closing buffet  at a conference Courtney was involved with.  Simone danced to the music in her pink boots. "They are NOT cowgirl boots," she insisted. "They are princess boots."

Simone in the ball pit

    It was raining heavily in Texas, a result of Hurricane Patricia. The creek

Halloween

behind Courtney's house roared through its channel, almost overflowing the banks. On Saturday Maxine raced in a  swim meet, and then the girls played in the ball pit. When we got home, the driveway was flooded. Maxine rushed to open her umbrella and jump on her scooter to ride around in the deep puddle.

Saying goodbye

     The girls prepared a dance show. Simone decorated with empty Kleenex boxes while Maxine chose the music videos. The costuming was exquisite, and the dancing was graceful and energetic. Later Maxine set up a nail salon and painted all of our finger nails.
   On Sunday we went to a Halloween party, where the kids painted pumpkins and faces and screamed  in the scary closet.
     Courtney and I had a good quiet morning together on Monday, and then it was time to leave. I came home with a full heart.

   

Down on Sally's farm

Judy makes a friend

 

Judy and Sally make music at Vista House

     Sally invited us to her farm in Colton so that Judy could pet the donkeys. Judy at one time had a donkey named Casey, who would bray a welcome when Judy came home from work.  Casey's best friend was the miniature goat Vinnie (for Vincent van Goat.)  Judy chuckles through many stories about the adventures of Casey and Vinnie. In recent years, Judy has

The main attraction

volunteered at a donkey rescue farm, brushing and grooming the animals and sneaking them treats. These days  walking though fields and barnyards, as well as breathing the dust raised from grooming, prevent Judy from helping out at the rescue mission.
    Sally served us an elegant lunch and showed us some of her quilts and paintings while she and Judy talked music. Even from her remote farm forty minutes from town, Sally gathers people around her to learn dulcimer and to play old-time music. After lunch  and Sally drove us up to the barn to see the donkeys. Judy had a good long love- in with them, rubbing their ears and feeding them carrots.

Happy time

Before the joy ride

     Then we piled into the John Deere Gator tractor and Sally drove us all  over the farm. There we were, Judy with her oxygen tank, Sally facing surgery, and I with my aching joints, grinning and whooping like teenagers out for a joy ride. We lurched over the fields that Sally's husband has retaken from blackberries, past the vegetable beds, the apple trees, and the pond now dried up. We ended at Sally's secluded writing spot, where she can see Mt. Hood through the cedars.
     It was a fine fall day in the country, down on Sally's farm.