F*ck You, Hooray for Me - conclusion

(And now, the conclusion of F*ck You, Hooray for Me courtesy of Number 2 - VW)

I'm writing this entry on my dad's computer that I have brought to work because fatboss has locked the work computer so ONLY NIGHT SHIFT can't get the internet.

That makes me happy.

Why would you piss off the people who work for you when you are sleeping?

Don't they realize that if we are not doing the job well that they get woke up?

Oh well. Doesn't matter anymore.

This is my last shift.

11 hours from now I am a free man.

I've been working the 9 days OF DOOM covering for rayray's vacation.

I was told that he went to Mexico on a TREASURE HUNT. That makes me happy. I guess the Mexican people would mine for gold and silver and whatnot and when they found something they would build a house over it to hide it.

One of rayray's relatives told him there is silver under some house so he went down there to find his family treasure.

I don't know if he found it. I forgot to ask him. I'll just tell myself he found the motherlode and will be rich.

That makes me happy.

So I called rayray and asked him to work for me the next two weeks.

I have two weeks of vacation left to take this year.

He said no problem.

Rayray has always covered for me when I asked and I tried to do the same. He is a good man.

Tomatoface called me last night and asked if I was sure I want to do this.

I said yes.

He said he got my letter but later told me he wanted me to stay "a week or so" until they could find a replacement.

If he had read the letter he would have known that I said my termination date would be 9/6.

Silly tomatoface.

He called tonight. He said "Number 2, I'M GONNA MISS YA".

So much for thinking the company is going to throw money at me to get me to stay.

Not that I would.

I guess in some way I want to think that the company thought I was a an important part of the "team" and I used quotes for team because in this location there is no team.

Maybe it's just ego.

I want them to have a hard time replacing me so they can see in hindsight that I was a valuable employee.

That may be shallow and petty but it's how I feel.

Payback for the way they treated me even though I'm to blame because I let them treat me bad while repeating my mantra WHATEVER IS GOOD FOR THE COMPANY.

A wise man once told me something that at the time I didn't understand.

It confused me.

It was back when I was a manager with this company.

I got the job because my old boss was leaving and for once I stood up and said I WANT THIS JOB! The owner of the company saw something in me and said he would give it to me on a trial basis.

I think it was 3 or 6 months.

Whatever.

It was my "trial basis" went about two months longer than it was supposed to. One day the owner came in and said the words. "Number 2 you got the job. You are getting a raise, a car allowance and a gas card."

Then the wise words from the wise man.

"FUCK YOU! HOORAY FOR ME!"

I was dumbfounded as he turned and left.

I've told this story to a few people and they were like "HUH?!!?"

That was my reaction too.

But I've used that line many times and I don't think I understand what he was trying to say that day but I know this.

Today I can say to him that his words of wisdom have never been truer.

Today I can say, with all honesty, that I get it.

FUCK YOU! HOORAY FOR ME!

That makes me happy.

Happier than if been in a long long time.

So I pass these words to you.

From a boss.

From a mentor.

When you lose hope.

When you are sad.

When you just don't know what to do.

Take these words.

They worked for me.

Number 2

F*ck You, Hooray for Me - part two

(Once again, this story courtesy of Number 2 - VW)

When we last saw our lovable hobo, Number 2, he had left his resignation letter on the desk of the fatboss.

Funny thing is the letter is gone.

No one said a word to me about it.

I even called up the fatboss and not a word.

Oh well.

I guess if he doesn't want to talk about it that's fine.

I talked to my brother and he was all THEY DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING?!?!!

Nope.

So here's the new plan.

I'm working my 8th shift covering for rayray's vacation.

One day to go.

Tomorrow night I will call rayray and ask him if he will cover some vacation for me.

I will ask him to work my next two weeks seeing as how I have two weeks vacation left.

So after Monday morning at 6am I walk out of this place a free man.

I'll get a chance to say goodbye to the people I like and avoid pepperass and fatboss.

It's perfect.

Everything is falling into place.

You see George you really did have a wonderful life.

Number 2

F*ck You, Hooray for Me - part one

(The following story is courtesy of Number 2 - VW)

What next? Good question.

The reason I decided to quit my job is...as I typed that I thought there are so many reason I couldn't possibly name them all.

Last month my dad died.

He died four months after he retired. I don't want that.

He taught me a lot of things in life but, and I know this sounds gay, his death taught me the most important lesson.

14 years is a long time and I've been completely loyal to this company.

Some would say loyal to a fault.

I've made a lot of friends that have since left this company to work for the competition and a few of them have offered me jobs for more money and better hours.

I always turned them down because I loved this company.

I believed in it.

I had the WHATEVER IT TAKES attitude to provide the service our customers demand.

I don't feel that anymore.

One day I realized I was going to quit. I started asking the people in my life I care about what they thought about me quitting my job.

Not one person said don't. My brother only asked me to wait until we met with the lawyer to figure out my dad's estate. That blew me away. All those people knew I wasn't happy and all those people want me to be happy.

So what's next? The simple answer is I DON'T KNOW!

I may go back to school.

I may look for a new job outside this industry (still loyal even though I don't feel it).

I'm going to hang out with my baby niece who is turning 2 soon. I've been telling people I'm going to be a stay at home uncle.

I will write more.

I will bike to the beach more.

I will read.

I will quit smoking and drinking.

I will live my life.

And most important I will be happy.

Number 2

The Reading of the Will

I guess I really have watched too many television shows or movies. I expected that meeting with my father's attorney would be at least a little dramatic.

That couldn't be further from the truth.

I had never met Alex but while going through my dad's paperwork I had the chance to see a lot of his work. I knew that he had helped my dad out quite a bit with a problem that he had with his ex-girlfriend, T.J. Reading all of the documents that he had sent her only confirmed what I had already known.

My uncle and aunt had just returned from a vacation in Hawaii on the red eye and were drinking coffee in the parking lot when I got there. Number 2 was right behind me and parked on the other side of my car. He just got off of work and just wants to go to sleep.

I went to the trunk to pull out the box of my dad's financial papers and we headed over to Alex's office.

Alex went to school with my uncle but he looks about 10 years older than him. He doesn't really look like your typical Orange County lawyer. More like a reformed Berkeley lawyer.

His assistant offer us drinks but I just want to get down to business. Alex spends some time talking about how much he liked our father and how hard my dad pushed him to get all of this work on his estate completed. Some of it was literally completed a week before his death.

Alex goes over everything in detail and there really isn't anything here that surprises me. He takes the pink slip for my dad's truck and assures me that it will be put on our name. We are going to have to figure out where that truck gets parked until we can sell it.

My uncle lets us know that we are going to have a bill from Alex and I acknowledge it. I understand that even this meeting is billable.

I ask Alex if it is okay for us to proceed with putting tenants into the duplex and he says that's fine. He recommends that in a month of so, Number 2 and I open up a joint checking account to manage the rent and bills for the duplex.

Number 2 has been quiet this entire time. He hasn't said a word.

"Number 2, do you have any questions for me?" asked Alex.

A droopy-eyed Number 2 stretched back to life and asked, "Yeah, can I quit my job?"

Alex didn't really know how to answer this and I told him that I wanted to wait until we spoke to him before we made any rash decisions.

"Your father did all of this so you boys could do exactly what you wanted to do. If you want to quit, go ahead."

"That's all I wanted to know," replied Number 2.

And with that, a genuine smile appeared on Number 2's face for what seemed like the first time since our dad died.

VW

Torching Castle Greyskull

Being back in Long Beach has triggered a flood of memories that I had believed to be long gone.

Many of them centered around Craig, the neighbor that lived across the street from me.

Craig was probably 6 or 7 years old when I started baby sitting him. His mother liked to play bingo on Thursday nights and I got the regular Thursday night gig to watch Craig for $10.

Unfortunately, ten bucks wasn't enough to spend time in this house. It was always is pretty sad shape. Dishes overflowed out of the sink. Sickly dogs roamed freely while biting off their fur. Cats would jump on my lap and stick their asses in my face.

All in all, it wasn't a very pleasant place to spend any time at...so we would look for things to do outside.

Usually, this involved my friend Nick.

Nick had a sadistic streak and enjoyed tormenting the neighborhood kids - including Craig.

Maybe the worst thing I saw Nick do was attach multiple fireworks to Craig's He-Man and the Masters of the Universe Castle Greyskull play set and light them simultaneously.

Craig liked it at first...until he realized that his toy was now mostly melted plastic.

As I look at Craig today, I really am hoping he's forgotten all of the stuff that I let Nick do to him and his stuff.

He's in his late 20's and he's bought that same house that he lived in from his Mom. I don't really want to ask about his Mom. She was really big back when I used to babysit him.

Like "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" big, if you know what I mean.

She can't still be alive, can she?

Craig stops by as we work on the duplex. There are some awkward silences between us. I don't even know where to start a conversation with him and he just looks at me with the same goofy grin that he had when he was 8.

He tells me that he's an engineer with Metrolink.

I will now probably never ride in one of those trains again.

He's hired Tripper to work on his house. I want to tell him that he should check up on Tripper more because he's spending a buttload of time over here watching us.

Then, Craig does something totally unexpected.

He saves my ass.

We've hired a contractor to come in to refinish the word floors. Unfortunately, this contractor didn't realize that this house didn't have the proper electrical set up to use their equipment.

Craig sees what's happening. Comes over to my dad's place. And offers to run an extension cord across the street to his house to power their machines.

It's probably the most unsafe and illegal activity I've been associated with in almost 20 years but I need to get those floors done.

And without Craig volunteering to provide the electricity, it would have delayed everything that we were trying to do.

Maybe I've been cringing just a little too much about my past. Maybe I'm remembering only the bad things that happened on my watch with Craig.

Whether it was playing kickball in his front yard or Super Mario Brothers in his living room, I know that there were times when he did enjoy the Thursday nights that we would spend together.

If only that house hadn't smelled like cat pee...

VW

The Church Ladies are Coming!

We now have a September 1st deadline to finish getting the duplex ready for new tenants - the Church Ladies are going to move in.

Number 2 first suggested it after he had talked to Mr. Stream (the family friend that led the service for my dad). Their church was looking for a place to rent for four college girls that would be "witnessing" at CSULB while not in class.

It was a good idea. I knew that they would take care of the place and the chance of them throwing a party that would thrash it was next to nil. It just wasn't going to happen.

So I called Mr. Stream and gave him the particulars about what I would need in order to rent my dad's place to them.

The hardest thing to do was to tell him how much the rent would be per month. I need to get the fair market value for the place but I also don't want to price them out of our place.

I throw a number out and Mr. Stream praises Jesus - that was exactly what they had in mind for rent.

I haven't told my Grandma yet that we are going to do this but when I call her I find out that she already knows.

She is crying while thanking me for doing this. These girls are a part of her church and she feels like some good is coming from the passing of her oldest son.

I hope so.

I really do.

VW

N Town - Conclusion

Why are hotel alarm clocks so much louder than the one that you have at home? It's not like I'm more comfortable sleeping in one of these rooms.

4 a.m. comes a little too quick for me. It's going to be the start of a looooooooong day.

I'm flying back across the country in time to go work a full day at my job.

I expect it to be nothing short of surreal.

My day starts off with the toilet breaking, the hair dryer not working, and the room phone being out of order.

I just want to leave.

I'm downstairs in the Logan Airport Holiday Inn waiting for the shuttle to take me to the Jet Blue terminal. The only other people boarding are either pilots or flight attendants.

I double-check to see if I have everything in my man purse that I need for the flight.

I go through security and they are making everyone take off their shoes. Somebody tries to become my "line friend" and talk to me about how they really don't look like a terrorist and how silly this all is.

I just want someone from the TSA to take this chump away for a cavity search. DON'T F'ING TALK TO ME ABOUT YOUR SHOES AT 5:30 IN THE MORNING. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.

I realize that since I'm beginning my day on the east coast and I'm going to end it on the west coast, my day didn't begin at 4:00 a.m. It really began at 1:00 a.m.

I'm so screwed.

I get to the gate where my plane is taking off. I decide to call the Commander to check in on her.

Even though their flight is two hours away, they are all at the airport.

I tell her that I love her and that I'll see her when she gets home. They have a stop in Oakland before arriving in Long Beach and I'll be able to work a full day and get home before her even though she's only leaving two hours later.

I probably don't tell her that I love her enough but the fear of being cartwheeling down the runway in a plane has a way of freeing those words from my throat.

I'm one of the first people to get on the plane and I immediately notice that it is the same flight crew that I had on the way out.

My seat is in the back of the plane and I've got a window. There's someone sitting in the aisle but nobody next to me in the middle seat.

This flight home is going to be SWEET!

And then, it's not.

Out of nowhere, I see a large girl with a lap dog heading my way. I know that dog is going to yap the whole flight home and the animal she's with will probably do the same.

I go for my headphones, turn the volume up on the ipod, and do my best to suffer from premature hearing loss.

I doze for most of the flight home. Waking up only to get my obligatory Coke and blue chips.

As we make our descent back into Long Beach, I watch Riverside county disappear into Orange County. I watch Orange County give way to Los Angeles County.

And suddenly, I realize where I am.

For a brief moment, I'm exactly 1000 feet over my dad's duplex in Long Beach.

I look out the window and watch the house go by as we come in from a landing.

It's been just over 50 hours since I left for this funeral and right now, I'm where I should be.

I'm home.

VW

N Town - part six

I've never been one for the snow but I do remember an Indian Guides trip that I took with my dad that was great.

He would take Number 2 and I to the top of a hill in an tube and the three of us would race down the hill for hours.

I hadn't thought of that moment until I saw my own child get her first shot at playing in the snow.

After visiting the cemetery, we headed over to the house of the Commander's aunt and uncle. They still had snow in there back yard.

By the time we got there, a snowball fight had already broken out in the back yard.

The Chicken was right in the middle of it and I have never seen her have as much fun as she was having out there.

It's funny how things work out. Five hours ago, this family was morning the loss of their patriarch.

And now, the kids are having a snowball fight and every parent there is enjoying watching their own children play in the snow.

Eventually, we bring all of the kids back into the house. The Chicken isn't too happy about ending her snow play and she lets us know it.

There is nothing like seeing your child be so completely full of joy. We will have to do this again sometime.

The family hasn't had much time to catch up and my father-in-law and his brother have some business to take care of in a back room.

Everybody is talking about everything but Big Daddy.

For some reason, the conversation becomes about the Oprah show.

The Commander's aunt starts lets us all know that she doesn't like the shows were people are trying to get in touch with there feelings.

Two seconds after this sentence ends, my mother-in-law asks if anybody wants to share their feelings about Big Daddy.

That question is met with an awkward silence and I turn to leave the room.

I haven't had a chance to talk to the Commander's uncle yet and I really want to. To say that he is a character would be a gross understatement. He is over the top funny. At Nerdle's wedding, he opened up his dress shirt on the dance floor to reveal a Beattlejuice (of Howard Stern show fame) t-shirt. He's a classic.

"I just want you to know how sorry I am," I say to the Commander's uncle.

He thanks me and immediately makes a joke.

"I don't know if you know this but I lost my father six months ago."

He straightens up like I had hit him with a taser. He goes to shake my hand and in a very serious tone says "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Thank you. I just want you to know that it will get better."

He smiled at me and proceeded to share a rated "R" email that was pretty funny. I went to go get the Commander so she could get see it too.

Before I know it, we need to pack up and head back to Boston. We are staying at the airport Holiday Inn because my flight out is at 6 a.m. and the rest of the family leaves at 8 a.m.

Our visit here was too short and bittersweet. The cousins mention that they'd like to come out when the Red Sox visit Anaheim later in the summer.

I'll make sure that I get tickets good enough that when they see their seats, they'll just say that they are "wicked awesome."

VW

N Town - part five

The drive to the cemetery takes a little bit of time and it is decided that we should stop and get gas for the rental cars before our trip back to Boston tonight.

My brother-in-law accidentally pulls up to a Full Serve island and my mother-in-law charges out of our car to get him to move over to Self Serve.

In the 13 years that I've been with the Commander, I've never seen her mother move that fast.

We pile back into the cars and head over to the cemetery.

Big Daddy had purchased more than a dozen plots here and they weren't even close to being half full. He had a instructed his sons not to sell these plots back because they were worth far more now than what they would be refunded.

This family was going to have a lot of elbow room in this place.

The drive had put the Chicken to sleep so I stuck with her in the car while others looked at the various grave markers.

The last house that Big Daddy owned was just on the other side of the cemetery and when Huckleberry passed away, Big Daddy and his two sons walked back home from the cemetery instead of taking the limo that had brought them from the services.

"Let's walk over to my dad's old place," suggested my father-in-law.

I don't think the Commander got what was going on. Her dad had been pretty space-y over the course of the last week and now he wanted to walk over to a house that hadn't been in their family for more than a decade.

I understood what he was doing. When you lose a parent, there's no manual on how you should or shouldn't react. There's nobody that can guide you as to what you should do next.

You go with your gut.

You do what feels right.

And right now, it feels right for my father-in-law to walk with his family along the same path he took with his father and brother after they buried his mother.

And for me, it felt like the right thing to do too.

VW

N Town - part four

I know what the Mona Lisa is smiling about.

It's the wonderful crab cakes that they serve at the Norwich restaurant that shares her name.

We've got room for 25 for lunch and there are some people here that I do not know and will probably never know.

There's a fire place going full blast in this room and over the fire place is a picture of the Mona Lisa but something's not quite right about it.

Upon closer inspection, I see that the picture is actually a jigsaw puzzle of the Mona Lisa that has been glued together and framed. This place is class.

I spend most of lunch trying to keep the Chicken from making too much of a mess (I'm unsuccessful). The Fruit Loops that I boosted earlier and now mini-lifesavers for me. They keep the Chicken entertained and busy until her mac and cheese arrives.

The Commander is enjoying her time with her cousins. They are good people and always fun to be around.

The Commander's uncle tries to make a speech but I miss the starting point because I'm trying to keep the Chicken from eating food from the ground. I don't hear what he says but I know how painful it is to talk about your dad right after you lost him. I find out later that he showed up to the care facility that Big Daddy was living at just ten minutes after he died.

And then spent the next three hours talking to his father in that room.

Lunch is mercifully over and I can hand the Chicken back to the Commander. We are going to go back to the Commander's aunt and uncle's house but my father-in-law wants to make a quick stop first.

We are going to the cemetery where his mother is buried.

VW

N Town - part three

It wasn't as cold in Norwich as I had thought it was going to be. There was a mad scramble the weekend before we left to make sure that all of us had the proper attire.

Now, I'm walking around the funeral home with the Chicken and hoping that I don't slip on any ice still left on the ground.

The Chicken is still asking for her Mommy but she seems to be okay with me for now.

We find a snow plow out back and take a look at that for a while. We also find a little patch of snow still on the ground and the Chicken squeals with delight. She has read about snow but this is the first time she's ever seen it.

I make about seven laps around the funeral home before I start seeing people coming out. I thought that it was going to be a full mass but only 25 minutes have gone by.

I take the Chicken back inside and find the Commander.

I look at her with the question clearly on my face - "What's going on?"

"Don't ask. The priest has some problems and might be a little senile. Here, give me the Chicken."

Once again, I'm back to just hanging out and going with the flow. I stand outside the room where Big Daddy is and a guy my age starts taking to me.

"Are you part of the group that came out from California?"

"Yeah, I got in last night." I'm not sure who I'm talking to.

"Did you have a direct flight?"

"Yeah, it was nice. I flew into Boston and drove out here." Is this one of the Commander's relatives.

"That's really nice that you came out for this. I mean, that's a pretty long trip."

"Yeah, but he was pretty important to us and we wanted to be here for this." I got it. He's not a relative.

He's the "& Sons" part of the sign out front.

I end the conversation and look into the room where Big Daddy is. Two men have removed the American flag and are now in the process of folding it correctly.

I step back and watch as the family makes plans for lunch. We have a room at a restaurant called "Mona Lisa" in about an hour.

I'm standing there with the Commander and my father-in-law when his brother approaches him with the folded flag.

He hands the flag to my father-in-law and says "This belongs to you know."

It's a touching moment. I look at the Commander.

She's crying again.

VW

N Town - part two

I woke up by myself in the hotel room and I had no idea where I was.

It took longer than it should have for me to remember the events of the last week that had brought me here to Norwich.

The alarm clock hadn't gone off yet and I another 15 minutes before I needed to wake up and start to get ready for the services for the Commander's Big Daddy.

My father-in-law had reserved four hotel rooms for the nine of us. Due to some snoring issues that I can occasionally (okay, always) have, it was decided that it might be best if I slept by myself.

After completing the obligatory three S's (if you have to ask what that is, you don't want to know), I headed out to the s
I head back to my room and try to post an update on the blog using a blackberry I just received at work. I find that I need a little more room to write effectively than this tiny QWERTY keyboard gives me.

It's getting close to time to go but getting the nine of us on the same page is kind of like herding cats.

Finally, we get into our two rental cars and head to the funeral home.

I'm in a car driven by Nerdle. My father-in-law is in the front seat and I'm in the back with my mother-in-law.

We are only a couple of miles away from the funeral home but there aren't the straight avenues and streets that you see in Southern California here. My father-in-law ends up giving us a tour of his home town.

There's an old warehouse on the left.

"This used to be a 7-Up bottling plant. We would come by here after school and they would give us the bottles of soda that didn't cap properly. It was a double bonus because not only did we get a free drink but we could also turn in the bottle later and get a nickel."

We pass a steep hill on the right.

"I almost died there in a sledding accident when I was seven."

We turn again and pass a large brick building.

"That's where I went to high school."

A small catholic church is on the left.

"My father built the alter in there."

We eventually pull up to the where the Polish people go when they die in this town. It is a family run establishment (think Fisher & Sons from Six Feet Under). I realize that the small white building is actually two double-wide trailers sitting side by side.

The nine of us empty out of the two rental cars and head inside.

The Commander's family that lives here is already here. We had a chance to see the cousins last night but now they are all suited up for the service. The Commander's aunt and uncle are also here. I wait my turn to give each one of them a hug.

Pictures of Big Daddy are set up in front. There is also a sign in book that the Commander signs for the three of us.

Above the book is Big Daddy's name and the time the service is going to begin. The services aren't starting at 10:00, they are starting at 11:00.

I don't know how the Chicken is going to get through this.

Past the greeting room, Big Daddy is there in an open casket.

I look to the Commander and she heads over there with the Chicken.

The Commander has a funny way of crying. It starts with a lip quiver that almost makes you think that she is joking. Then, she doesn't make any noise, her eyes just leak tears down her cheeks.

She's staring at Big Daddy and the tears are starting to roll.

The Chicken points at Big Daddy and says "He's sleeping." It's maybe the cutest thing I've ever heard her say.

The Chicken asks her Mommy why she is crying and the Commander explains "because that's my Big Daddy."

For someone that is dead, Big Daddy actually looks pretty good. He does look like he's sleeping. The area around his eyes is a little red but other than that, there is nothing unnatural about his appearance.

An American flag drapes the casket and a picture of his wife, Huckleberry, is resting just inside the casket with him.

There is a small alter immediately in front of the casket. I watch as each member of the family takes a turn to have a private moment kneeling in front of the casket.

I take the Chicken and the Commander goes up there too. She doesn't kneel but I see her kiss her hand and touch his hand to say goodbye.

The Chicken and I head out to the other room. We have quite a bit of time before the services start.

Others start to arrive, including two toddlers that the Chicken develops an interest in. There's a one-year old boy and a three-year old girl. The Chicken approaches the girl and I realize that the girl may be a little bit Down-y (if you know what I mean). The three-year old almost immediately takes the binky out of the Chicken's mouth and puts it in hers.

It's not a big loss, I've brought back-up binkies.

The family takes their seats but the Chicken starts acting up. She wants her Mommy but the Commander needs to stay in for the services. Before I start getting the look from anyone in attendance, I scoop the Chicken up and we head outside.

We will do some laps around the funeral home and wait for the services to end.

VW

N Town - part one

It doesn't take too long for Nerdle and I to track down everyone that we are meeting at the hotel.

The local girl working the front desk is very helpful and throws me a complement about the beanie that I'm wearing. The weather reports that we were getting back home had me worried that I was going to freeze my nuts off in Norwich so I went out and bought a leather jacket, a scarf, and a beanie.

"I like your hat. You look like John Travolta," the front desk girl said while smiling.

I thank her but inside I can't help but think "Shit. I didn't realize that I've gotten that fat."

We knock on one of the doors to one of the rooms that we have and the Commander opens the door. She's happy to see me and plants kisses me immediately.

She must have missed me a little bit.

She and her older sister are putting together a photo display of Big Daddy. They're both a little frustrated because they don't have the time to do this like they'd like to. There are pictures everywhere.

My father-in-law and brother-in-law are out picking up dinner for everyone. They are picking up a bunch of grinders.

The Commander's cousins are all planning on stopping by tonight too. Eric (the oldest) still lives in Norwich and works for a newspaper. Sean is a pharmacist and lives in Mystic. Klumpa is their little sister and she lives with Sean. (Klumpa isn't her real name - it's Krista - but being the youngest, you sometimes get stuck with an unfortunate nickname. You see, Klumpa is short for "Clump of shit").

I've only spent time with these guys about a half a dozen times in the 13 years that the Commander and I have been together but they are among my most favorite people in the world. I wish there were more opportunities to see them and I wish that we weren't seeing them under these circumstances.

I get the lowdown on everything that is going on and it is already obvious to me that the stress level is much higher than it should be. People are not on the same page and some are getting upset. I'm so glad that it was just about me and my brother for my dad's funeral. Trying to balance any family politics would have just been too much for me to handle.

So I watch everything happen here and I feel so disconnected to just about everyone except for my father-in-law.

I know exactly where he is at and what he is feeling.

He's the oldest of two boys....like me.

He's been a bit more disconnected to his father than his younger brother....like me.

He's just trying to do what his father would have wanted him to do....like me.

My father-in-law and brother-in-law arrive with dinner and he comes over to me a shakes my hand.

"Thank you very much for coming, VW. It means a lot that you are here."

Big Daddy, I wouldn't have missed this for the world.

VW

Riding Shotgun with Bo

I think it is impossible to drive in a straight line in New England. The highways and toll roads feel like they exist directly on top of the dirt paths used by the people of a previous century.

It's pretty dark there too. Reminding me way too much of both Blair Witch movies.

Throw in the worst fog I have ever seen and you've got a pretty creepy drive to Norwich.

Fortunately, we have America's top talk show host in our car - NERDLE!

I don't know if she thinks she's being subtle but she's not at all.

First, she insists on having me ride shotgun under the premise that I won't have enough room in the back seat. That might work for most people but she knows that I've been folding myself into an Acura Integra for the last 6 years.

She's doing this to make sure I don't tune out of the conversation.

Although she had a chance to spend time with Bo and his family two months ago, she starts with catching up with him. They met at the University of Utah and now he teaches at Boston College. I'm happy to let them catch up but I can feel Nerdle searching for the gap in the conversation where she could toss me a question to get me involved.

She is the Reggie Bush of conversations - waiting patiently until a hole opens to dart towards me.

And while I would have been completely happy to just sit there and figure out what I wanted to eat (It's been 13 hours since I had my last meal), the conversation takes interesting twists and turns about everything from BC, the weather, diversity issues, football, and even this blog.

The three of us are so involved in the conversation that we completely miss a key turn and have to spend some time backtracking to get back on course.

It takes a little longer than expected but we make it to Norwich and find the hotel that we are staying at. After finding the hotel, we turn back up the road so we can put some gas in Bo's car.

I jump out first so I can pay. Nerdle pleads with me to let her pay but if the Commander finds out that I let her do that, I won't hear the end of it.

I ask for $30 on 5 and turn my attention to the other side of the station. There's a Dunkin' Donuts in here and while I was hoping for something more substantial, I'm ready for anything fresh.

The girl behind the counter asks if she can help me but I am completely lost here. I haven't been to a Dunkin' Donuts in at least 8 years and I want to carefully examine the menu and make sure I don't have buyer's remorse.

I get extra happy when I see that they serve breakfast sandwiches all day. A sausage and egg sandwich sounds perfect.

I order it and get it in about three minutes. I practically run outside so I can eat in peace.

It is the best sandwich ever. I'm not full but I'm not going to be grumpy from a lack of food.

Bo and Nerdle are still in the station. I buy him a soda and Nerdle buys him some chewing tobacco.

It is a pouch of Red Man, the same chew that my Mom's father worked on my entire life. The packaging alone sends me back in time to a graveyard in Santa Maria, California where both my Mom's parents are buried.

It's funny what can be the trigger for memories.

We all get back into Bo's car and head back up the block to the hotel.

It's been a long day and I'm ready to see my family.

VW

On the Road to Norwich

I was a mugwump when it came to taking this trip to Norwich.

I had my mug on one side of the fence and my wump on the other. I wasn't sure what I was going to do until I called my Mom to let her know about this potential trip.

"VW, I can't tell you how many things in life I missed because I thought I had to be at work. That place will open with out you. Go and be with your family."

That's what pushed my wump over the edge and I decided to go.

I've only been to that part of the country once before and I loved it. The best was seeing a ballgame at Fenway.

It wasn't just a chance to see a game. It was a religious pilgrimage to one of the holiest sites the Church of Baseball has.

There wasn't going to be any time for anything fun. I was rolling in Wednesday night for a funeral on Thursday and leaving the next morning at 6:00.

This trip was gonna hurt.

As the plane landed, I hung back in my seat and watched all the other passengers scurry to get their carry on items.

I prefer to wait until everyone else is just about off before I make my move. I didn't bring much with me. Just a man purse filled with books, a spare pair of boxers in case my luggage gets lost, and some Fruit Loop breakfast bars.

I disembark and make a quick pit stop in the Men's room to freshen up a bit before the two hour car ride ahead of me.

Heading down the escalator to baggage claim, I see a girl do leg kicks and jumping jacks.

It's Nerdle. She doesn't want me to miss her.

She grabs the man purse and explains that we aren't renting a car (what?).

That a friend of hers is going to give us a ride to Norwich (what?).

And that we are going to take public transportation to his house (WHAT?).

It's the first part of my "go-with-the-flow" trip. I realize that I am not in control of anything at this point. So, I'll just make the best of things as they come.

Nerdle walks over to a map of the train and points out to me where we are going. She is immediately approached by a large black lady who offers to help her find her way.

While the Nerdle is quickly approaching 30 and about to obtain a doctorate, she still looks like you should card her if she was trying to get into a rated "R" movie.

She also has the innate ability to hold a conversation with anyone. She could be the perfect talk show host with her inquisitive nature combined with her Yogi Berra-esque skill of saying unintentionally funny things.

We start on the Silver Line before transferring to the "T." It takes us about 20 minutes but we laugh about how much this is like our experience competing in the Urban Challenge (Go to Urban Challenge.com to see what I'm talking about. There are pictures of me in the Los Angeles results page for 2002).

We hit our stop and I practically run up the stairs with my baggage so I don't get run over by the masses behind me.

And we pop up in a Storybook Neighborhood.

You would never see anything like this in Orange County. I half expect to come across a stick ball game or a paper boy hawking the evening edition of the Globe.

I'm in a world now that seems too fantastic to really exist.

Nerdle explains that this neighborhood is less a melting pot of ethnicity and more a melting quilt. We pass the black section, the Polish section, and turn right into the Irish section.

She also told me that it was a short walk between the train station and her friends house.

It dawned on me that the Nerdle runs marathons and that her definition of a "short walk" may mean that somebody will be performing CPR on me near the end of it.

Right as I'm starting to feel this way, Nerdle exclaims "See, we're here!" (Thank you, Jesus!).

She bounds up the stairs and rings the broken doorbell. Her friend Olga notices that we are at the front door and lets us in.

I'm already feeling like we are intruding.

She brings us back into the house and Nerdle starts laughing because her friend Bo - who is going to be driving us - is asleep on the couch.

I'm so wishing that I could turn the clock back and rent that car. It's already 6:00 p.m. and by driving us to Norwich, Bo has safely guaranteed that he won't be home before 10:00.

Not only do I not have a friend in the U.S. that would be willing to do this for me, I wouldn't be willing to do this for any one of my friends.

Nerdle seems to have friends like this in every city. Possibly every continent.

I look into my future back talking with their five year old girl. I can't image what the Chicken will be like at that age.

Olga also brings their new baby boy into the room. He's been sick and on a nebulizer (could I feel more like crap for having Bo drive us?).

Nerdle teases me that the Commander and I will have nothing but girls. The truth is, a boy would be great, but I'll take what we get and hope for a health baby when the time comes.

It's time for us to hit the road and we head out to their Jeep Cherokee in the front. I'm willing to sit in the back so Nerdle and Bo can talk and I can just gel but Nerdle will have none of that.

Her special two-hour talk show is about to begin.

VW

Just a quick note

I had some tech challenges over the last couple of days. Got some great stories and can't wait to post. Have to go to work.

Leaving on a Jet Blue Airplane

When we were cleaning out my dad's house, we found a bunch of strange items that didn't make a whole lot of sense at the time.

Now that I'm sitting in 12B, next to the emergency exit, I'm staring at something that brings me back to the weeks spent cleaning my dad's house.

Airplane earphones.

There were at least a dozen of them in his house. I hadn't realized that he had been traveling that much.

And now, here I am on the way to the Commander's grandfather's funeral thinking again about my dad.

Everybody else had left the day before and I was flying solo on this trip. Because of this, I am your worst nightmare on a plane.

A big man in the middle seat.

The guy sitting next to me on the window can't get out of here fast enough.

"This trip is gonna be wicked hard if one of us doesn't move," he says as he hits the call button for the flight attendant.

They find him another seat and me and the kid sitting next to me get to spread out a bit.

I pull out my ipod and the book I've been trying to finish for a few weeks ("Faithful" by Stewart O'Nan and Stephen King) and wait for our take off.

My father-in-law got us all tickets on Jet Blue so we could fly direct to Boston and then drive to Norwich, CT for the funeral services. I was going to meet Nerdle (my sister-in-law) at the Logan (Boston's airport) and we were going to pick up a rental to get to Norwich.

But before that could happen, I had to make the cross-country flight.

And I hate to fly.

Turns out that the flight is pretty uneventful (like most flights are). Somebody rips a pretty nasty fart on the plane about an hour before we land. I was hoping that the oxygen masks would be deployed but it didn't happen.

There is one weird thing that does happen though.

I had spent a few hours loading my ipod with just about every decent CD the Commander and I own. I thought it would be funny to see how it would shuffle the 432 songs I put on there. So what was the first song that pops up?

God Only Knows by the Beach Boys.

VW

Mystic Pizza

Made it to Norwich tonight. Felt like I was on the Amazing Race.

Wanted to write more tonight but I'm beat. 

I'll have updates on Thursday and Friday.

VW
--------------------------
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld.
 

Change of Plans

Joan Didion writes in "The Year of Magical Thinking"
that when a loved one dies it can be like this - "You
sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends."

It is a pretty powerful description about how one
moment, you are cruising through your existence
without a meaningful care in the world when out of
nowhere - a friend or family member suddenly passes
away.

When I first read that line, I was struck how simply
she was able to nail exactly what it was like for me
when my dad passed.

Unfortunately, my family has experienced another loss
this weekend.

Because of this, I will be leaving writing about last
August momentarily and write about this week for the
next seven days.

Because sometimes you sit down to dinner and life as
you know it ends.

And this time, that's exactly how it happened to me.

I had a pretty happening Friday night planned. The
Commander and the Chicken were going to spend the
night at my in-laws. My mother-in-law was visiting
her mother out of town and my father-in-law (Big
Daddy) wanted to have all of his granddaughters over.

I don't think I've ever explained why my father-in-law
is called Big Daddy. When my sister-in-law was a
child, she got confused about what to call her
grandfather and was referring to him as "Daddy." My
mother-in-law corrected her and said, "No, that's your
Big Daddy."

The name stuck for a grandpa in this family and when
the Chicken's first cousin started to talk, she was
taught to call my father-in-law Big Daddy (even though
he should probably be Big Daddy 2).

Anyway, back to my Friday night. I was going to have
some carne asada soft tacos and watch Wedding Crashers
on DVD.

Before I can eat the first taco, the phone rings.

It's the Commander and she's upset.

"Big Daddy died today."

Her grandfather was dead.

It was kind of amazing. Our roles that we had in July
when my dad died had now completely reversed. The
Commander was now giving me the bad news.

And frankly, I went kind of numb.

The Commander's Big Daddy lived to be 90
years old. He outlived his wife, Huckleberry, by more
than two decades. He outlived all of his siblings.
And probably most importantly for any New Englander...

He got to see his Red Sox win a World Series.

Although he had health problems over the last few
years, he had definitely lived a good life.

But regardless of your parents age, when you lose them
I've discovered that it hurts just as bad.

And it's the people that all stepped up for me when my
father passed that are hurting the most.

They are my family and I'll be going with them to
Connecticut this week to say goodbye to Big Daddy.

VW

Number 2 drops a deuce

August has finally rolled around. I'm back in the swing of things at work. And I've started this blog! (Yay!).

Another interesting thing is that Number 2 has been around....a lot.

Number 2 and I haven't always spent much time together either. For most of our teenage years, I lived with our dad and he lived with our mom (it's a long story). We ended up living together for most of my 20's after we outlasted both of our parents and they moved away from Number 2 and I (our mom remarried 15 years ago and moved to San Diego and our dad bought a house with T.J. about 12 years ago).

But since the Commander and I got married, we didn't see too much of Number 2 until the Chicken came along.

Number 2's appearances here were still pretty sporadic and it was due to his job. For 15 years, he's worked at an ink factory in a crappy part of LA (as if they'd have an ink factory in a good part of LA) and he has had the night shift for the last 10 years.

It's a pretty solitary existence and it's one that I don't think he's enjoyed over the last few years.

After everything that we've been through over the last couple of weeks, I'm not surprised when he starts the following conversation while burning through some smokes in front of my house.

"VW, I don't think I want to work anymore."

"What do you mean, Number 2?" I asked.

"I mean I think I hate my job. I think it's going nowhere. I think I'm done."

Number 2 crushes the butt of his smoke on the edge of my green waste trash can and throws it away. I'm just glad he's putting it in a waste receptacle. At one time, he received a notice to fix his lawn at his house and I think it was because over time his smoking habit had created a butt garden just off of his front porch.

"Look, I've been the Company guy. Just like Dad was. And what did it get him? He's 62 and dead. He got four months of retirement. That's the biggest bunch of bullshit I've ever heard of and I don't want it."

Number 2 was angry and I don't blame him. The last two weeks have had what seems to be an endless supply of bullshit.

"Okay, so what are you going to do?"

"I've got money in the bank. I can live on it for a year before I even touch anything that dad's left us. I'll figure out what to do."

We haven't spoken to my dad's lawyer yet but he gave me his will and I'm pretty sure I know where everything is.

My dad's estate had two heirs...me and Number 2. We weren't going to be rich from what my dad left behind but it would be enough that either one of us could afford to make a significant change in our life.

"So, are you okay with me quitting, " asked Number 2.

I get it now. He's not telling me that he's quitting. He's asking if I think it's okay. He's 34 and I'm 35 and I think it is the first time that he's ever asked for my advice. Ever. How strange is that?

I end up telling his something that he doesn't really see coming.

I tell him to quit.

Number 2 is smart and funny and as creative as anyone I know. He's wasting his talents at a company that actually treats him like number 2.

I do ask him if he can wait until we speak with my dad's lawyer. I just want to make sure that he's okay financially before he goes through with quitting.

But he's going to quit. And I think he may do it in a take-this-job-and-shove-it kinda way.

Whatever he does, I know that he will tell us what happened in a way that have us all getting a pretty big laugh out of it.

VW

Funeral for a Friend (Another out of order story)

Today (January 3rd) I went to my first funeral since my dad's and it was a sad one.

There have been a couple of opportunities for me to attend other funerals in the last five months but I've managed to avoid them. I'll write about both of those later.

Today was different.

Today was a funeral for a friend.

I was surprised when I heard about it last week as it popped up in an email at work but I really shouldn't have been. Christina had not been in good health for many years and where her spirit could probably keep up the fight, I think her body finally wore out.

Another manager that I work with was kind enough to go along with me today. Honestly, I don't think I could have gone by myself. I knew that I would see other friends there but it was nice to have a wingman today, just in case.

Going to the funeral also meant a return to Long Beach for me. I haven't been there since we found tenants for my dad's place (another story coming up, I promise).

It was bad enough that we were saying goodbye to such a great person but on top of that, I knew that I was risking having all of the grief that I still have for my dad bubble up to the surface.

As we pulled up to the church, I felt a weird connection to this part of Long Beach. I looked across the street and realized that the elementary school that my grandma had worked at as the secretary was sitting diagonally from the church. I hadn't been in this part of Long Beach in almost 30 years.

We walked into the church and waited to pay our respects to Christina's family. I only spoke to her husband. Jason and Christina had attended our wedding and now I'm here to see him say goodbye to his wife in the church that they were married in. It isn't fair but you would never know if Jason felt that way. While he is certainly grieving, there is a certain calmness to his demeanor. I don't know how he's doing it because I would be in the fetal position if I was going through this.

Like the people that came to my dad's funeral, I have no idea what to say to him. I shake his hand, give him a hug (the manly kind that you see the basketball players give each other), and tell him that I'm so sorry for everything.

Jason quietly thanks me and I head into the chapel for the services.

Christina is in an open casket but I don't want to see her. We sit near the back and I scan the crowd for other people I know.

Another friend, Robin, approaches us and is crying when she sees me.

"I was so worried that you weren't going to be here. I knew that Christina would've wanted me to call you but I forgot and I was freaking out all the way from San Diego."

Robin, I wouldn't have missed this for the world

Before the service begins, Jason approaches the open casket and takes a final moment to be with Christina. His parents get up from their seats and join him. Each one of them puts an arm around their son as if to support him during this final goodbye. Jason's mom bends down to Christina to either whisper something to her or give her a final kiss.

It is the saddest moment that I have ever been present for.

The mass begins and I find myself getting better and knowing when to stand or sit. Whoever is playing the organ for all of the songs is rockin' today. After listening to him, I've decided that the start of any memorial service for me should begin with "The Final Countdown" by Europe.

Before I know it, the mass is over and Christina's casket is walked down the very same aisle that Jason and Christina walked down for the first time as man and wife.

We exit the church and spend a few minutes catching up with friends that we haven't seen for years. Phone numbers and emails get exchanged between friends. Nobody bothers to give me their phone number. I think most people know that I'll never call.

We head back to the car and I realize that I've made it through the entire funeral without shedding a tear. I'll cry later I'm sure. But for now, I'm ready to go back to work after making a run to the border for some lunch.

VW

Two shots of happy, One shot of sad (Entering Nicholas - part three)

Frenchie looked like she had seen a ghost.

But instead of running away she leapt at me and I opened my arms to accept the hug.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

I explained that I needed to pick my dad's items from his office and that since I was here, I thought and have a drink, his drink, in his honor.

Frenchie turned to the bartender and demanded that I get my ordered drink. I told the bartender to put some Cutty in it just so it could be a full drink.

The bartender emptied the bottle of Glenlivet into a small glass and then followed my request by filling up the rest of the glass with the Cutty.

I watched as she tossed the empty bottle of Glenlivet into a trash receptacle.

I killed that bottle.

My dad's bottle.

It was like the circle of life but instead of lions, it was bottles of booze. It kind of made me happy.

The bartender placed a napkin with a nude lady on it in front of me and set the mixed scotch on top of that. I started nursing the drink while Frenchie continued to talk.

"Do you know what happened to you father yet?"

She had asked me about this at the funeral. The death certificate hadn't arrived yet. But I wasn't concerned about the cause of death. I had only been concerned about his death.

"You know, I was with him one time when he passed out. He hit is head on his oven."

Ah ha! The answer to how that dent got on my dad's oven!

I knew what that was like. It 1999, he passed out in front of me and I thought he was having a heart attack. I was on the phone calling 911 when he came to and told me to stop.

It absolutely scared the crap out of me when that happened and I got really pissed about the entire episode. After that, I had put some distance between he and I because I didn't want him to drop dead in front of me. We didn't see much of each other until the Chicken was born.

"You know, there are a lot of people here that your father was very nice to that didn't go to his funeral."

I gotta say. I'm kind of happy that the strip club community decided to no show my dad's funeral.

"There are some people here that owe him a lot of money. There is one girl here that he loaned a lot to and she didn't even have the class to go to the services."

I'm not surprised. My dad liked being a big shot. There were times that he threw money around to impress folks.

"Frenchie, whatever that debt to my father was, I think it died with him. My brother and I aren't going to worry about that money."

"VW, I will miss your father very much. He was very kind to me. He used to pay me to clean his house. He didn't have to do that. He always looked out for me and never asked for anything in return."

I didn't even know how to respond to that. I just brought the drink back up to my mouth.

There was a bit of a silence between us...well...at least as silent as it can be as "Rock you like a hurricane" by the Scorpions is playing.

I finished the drink and placed a $10 on the bar. I turned to Frenchie and told her that I was leaving.

"Do you want to know where you dad would sit?"

Seriously, how do you even answer that? "Sure," I replied.

He always had the first booth next to the stage.

The booth was empty this afternoon and I just stared at it. Imagining my dad sitting there with his drink watching girls 10 years younger than me swinging around a golden pole.

I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that image.

I said goodbye to Frenchie and thanked the bartender before heading to the light streaking in from the open door.

The light that would dissolve the darkness that this fantasy world existed in.

The light that would bring me back to my new reality.

VW