For the last two hours, Dannette/Sharise has been on the phone apartment hunting. Intersperse that with shameless conversations with the boyfriend it sounds like she's leaving and random lines like "It was NOT an innocent child!" and you have an idea of what my day is like. She's CRAZY.
I went at lunch to Old St. Pat's church on Des Plaines and Adams to get a mass card for Shane. I couldn't figure out how to do it and decided to stay for the mass and ask the priest afterwards. I got a bloody nose right at the outset, like God was spiting me for taking so long to return to his house. After my red river clotted (doesn't that sound like something else?) I stopped leaning my head back to swallow the blood and noticed that there was a surprising cross-section of worshipers in attendence. Young people and older ones; people dressed to the nines and some in jeans. All at a quick lunchtime mass in the city. At the time for Peace, I turned around to the person I sensed was behind me to offer him peace and it turned out to be this semi-strange family friend of Mary's whom I know from my youth at DeVries. Nice family but the LAST person I expected to ever see again, let alone there, then. At Mary's sister's wedding a couple years ago, me and her now brother-in-law Jason were sitting in front of this man and his wife and they insisted on striking up detailed conversation. Mr. Edwards, the family friend, gave me peace today and then said hello in one foul swoop. So quick I don't know if he caught my nod of recognition. He'll probably go home tonight and over dinner with his family relay the story above and wonder if I knew who he was. Brilliant!
Afterwards I asked the priest how to get the mass card and he after he told me, asked my name and a few other questions. I gather this was because there really is no "parish" at this church because it is among skyscrapers and not in a residential area. It is super famous in the city, but not in a central location. So he was wanting to know about the people who come to the masses. It was also surprising that he was relatively young. All the news and articles in the media have been either about the sex abuse scandal or about how there is a dearth of new priests. He reminded me of Father Mike Shanahan who was a deacon when I entered junior high and became a priest when I was in seventh grade. He was probably 25 when he started but frames of reference are so screwed up when you're young. He was the fun priest who would take exotic vacations and make up stories about bears and exciting adventures when he came into our classrooms and spent time with us. He was the "cool" priest, who eventually left after the spinster religion teacher fell madly in love with him. He went to a Spanish-speaking parish and was profiled in Time Magazine as the future of the Church.
Then I went to lunch at Angelo's, an unclassifiable greasy-spoon-esque eatery. I got me a Charred Asparagus sandwich and some fries, it being Friday during Lent and me coming straight from guilt-demanding church. Yesterday when I had lunch with my grandma for her 83rd birthday she told me that Fridays all year long used to be meatless and then made a joke about how old am I? It wasn't that long ago they changed the rule to just Fridays during Lent, and since she mentioned it I vaguely remember that, but as I was the son of my mother, we never followed it. My grandma and thusly my dad like to follow those rules (though my dad hates the meatless Friday one) but my mom couldn't care less. Every Sunday I see my dad getting ready to go out or when he comes home from somewhere and I ask him where he's going or where he went and he always says, like a broken record, "To a place called CHURCH!" I'm going to hell, I tell him, he raised a heathen.
On a separate note, I have gotten really into "The Contender" this week. I always "liked" boxing but now I love it. It's so entertaining. And the show is great because there's much more to it than just pounding flesh and uppercuts and hooks.
Nasty. The leftover fries from lunch today are sitting in my garbage can and make my whole area smell like bottled rotten farts. I'm gonna leave soon and enjoy me a tall glass of Green River and watch the Illini game I TiVoed. I heard the final score was 68-43. Can't wait to see the details.
Friday, March 11, 2005
As They Took His Soul, They Stole His Pride
Firstly, Mary, sorry I haven't emailed you back but it's been a crazy week. I know I keep saying that, but truly it has been. And since that email is on my email at I'm only able to access at home, it involves dialing up, etc., and Michelle's been slaving over the computer every time I can check it. Needless to say, I'm thinking about what I want to see, but am counting on you two to point North, to show me the things you deem mandatory. There's a Sydney native in my company who I'm going to email soon to find out some spots he thinks I have to see. So even though my thoughts aren't yet going from my fingers to your eyes, I'm thinking about it always.
And it's fine that you posted that email, and I understand why you took out what you did. I'm just a little surprised at the comment it got. I wonder what Amy originally put. And what kinds of things were you using as clues in Taboo at your lakehouse with me in them? I vaguely remember that story, and I think it's hilarious.
I'm exhausted today. Didn't sleep much last night. Couldn't. I am such a hypochondriac that yesterday I heard about Clinton's surgery and how he lost one third of his breathing capacity from a skin-like growth on his lung and immediatley I'm having trouble breathing. Also I was very aware of my beating heart while I was trying to sleep. It wouldn't shut up. And this morning I think I have strep. My boss's triplets have it and I'm thinking he could have been a carrier for that 24-hour period when its contagious. But my sore throat is probably just that and more from not sleeping than some kids I've never been in contact with. Chaos Theory tweaked a little.
The head boss is in town today and I hope he stays for a short time and heads right to the airport.
It's only 8:36 am here and already Dannette/Sharise is on her fourth personal call since I got here. She's having problems it seems with her boyfriend Donard. Although I can't be sure if her boyfriend is the one she calls Donard or the one she calls Dantrell. Also one of her three sons' names is Dominique. I don't know if she spells it that way, but that is how she pronouces it. She talks with at least one of her kids all day long every day. I think they don't go to school, or they miss school a lot. I imagine her saying on Sundays, "Are you going to school this week, Dominique?" And he says, "I'm going Tuesday and Wednesday but that's it." And resigned, she agrees, believing two days is better than none at all. Very much like Erin Dudek in grade school. She was at school maybe twice a week. It was so strange.
That federal judge story has been crazy. Two days ago in a Milwaukee suburb, a local po-po pulled over a van because his tail-light was out and as the cop approached the guy shot himself in the head. There was a suicide note and in it the confession that he killed Judge Lefkow's husband and mother when he tried to kill her. He broke into her house and was going to wait inside for 14 hours to kill her but was discovered and did what he did. He said he wasn't a murderer in the same way soldiers aren't murderers. He had sued UIC, his doctor and the federal government for $1 billion stemming from when he had mouth cancer in 1991 and lost part of his jaw in the chemo and treatments. It was a med mal case that was ridiculous. He said he had been "violated Nazi style" by everyone involved, and acted as his own attorney because no one would take the case. Judge Lefkow dismissed it in January, effectively ending his legal battle. She had less to do with it than anyone else involved, but she was the last. He also intended to kill the doctor and someone else but decided to let them live after he killed the judge's family. He was totally crazy.
It seemed like white supremecist Matt Hale was behind it all because he was convicted a year ago of soliciting to have Judge Lefkow killed. It was also discovered that he had attempted to send coded messages through his parents to his followers. One of his followers was Benjamin Smith who went on a minority killing rampage in 1999. One of his victims was Ricky Byrdsong, the former NU basketball coach. It's unfortunate that he was in essence tried and convicted for these slayings by the media and the public in the haze surrounding them when it appears he had nothing to do with it, but it wasn't like it was a stretch. Considering he had tried to kill her before. She said she'll be in the courtroom for his sentencing next month. And her public comments indicate that she'll return to the bench and won't be cowed by fear. Besides, what does she have left to fear? Her life has already been taken from her.
And it's fine that you posted that email, and I understand why you took out what you did. I'm just a little surprised at the comment it got. I wonder what Amy originally put. And what kinds of things were you using as clues in Taboo at your lakehouse with me in them? I vaguely remember that story, and I think it's hilarious.
I'm exhausted today. Didn't sleep much last night. Couldn't. I am such a hypochondriac that yesterday I heard about Clinton's surgery and how he lost one third of his breathing capacity from a skin-like growth on his lung and immediatley I'm having trouble breathing. Also I was very aware of my beating heart while I was trying to sleep. It wouldn't shut up. And this morning I think I have strep. My boss's triplets have it and I'm thinking he could have been a carrier for that 24-hour period when its contagious. But my sore throat is probably just that and more from not sleeping than some kids I've never been in contact with. Chaos Theory tweaked a little.
The head boss is in town today and I hope he stays for a short time and heads right to the airport.
It's only 8:36 am here and already Dannette/Sharise is on her fourth personal call since I got here. She's having problems it seems with her boyfriend Donard. Although I can't be sure if her boyfriend is the one she calls Donard or the one she calls Dantrell. Also one of her three sons' names is Dominique. I don't know if she spells it that way, but that is how she pronouces it. She talks with at least one of her kids all day long every day. I think they don't go to school, or they miss school a lot. I imagine her saying on Sundays, "Are you going to school this week, Dominique?" And he says, "I'm going Tuesday and Wednesday but that's it." And resigned, she agrees, believing two days is better than none at all. Very much like Erin Dudek in grade school. She was at school maybe twice a week. It was so strange.
That federal judge story has been crazy. Two days ago in a Milwaukee suburb, a local po-po pulled over a van because his tail-light was out and as the cop approached the guy shot himself in the head. There was a suicide note and in it the confession that he killed Judge Lefkow's husband and mother when he tried to kill her. He broke into her house and was going to wait inside for 14 hours to kill her but was discovered and did what he did. He said he wasn't a murderer in the same way soldiers aren't murderers. He had sued UIC, his doctor and the federal government for $1 billion stemming from when he had mouth cancer in 1991 and lost part of his jaw in the chemo and treatments. It was a med mal case that was ridiculous. He said he had been "violated Nazi style" by everyone involved, and acted as his own attorney because no one would take the case. Judge Lefkow dismissed it in January, effectively ending his legal battle. She had less to do with it than anyone else involved, but she was the last. He also intended to kill the doctor and someone else but decided to let them live after he killed the judge's family. He was totally crazy.
It seemed like white supremecist Matt Hale was behind it all because he was convicted a year ago of soliciting to have Judge Lefkow killed. It was also discovered that he had attempted to send coded messages through his parents to his followers. One of his followers was Benjamin Smith who went on a minority killing rampage in 1999. One of his victims was Ricky Byrdsong, the former NU basketball coach. It's unfortunate that he was in essence tried and convicted for these slayings by the media and the public in the haze surrounding them when it appears he had nothing to do with it, but it wasn't like it was a stretch. Considering he had tried to kill her before. She said she'll be in the courtroom for his sentencing next month. And her public comments indicate that she'll return to the bench and won't be cowed by fear. Besides, what does she have left to fear? Her life has already been taken from her.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Rave On, Shane O'Connor
I got some bad news yesterday that really has shocked me. An Irish cousin of mine passed away on Sunday. He was 24. When I went to Ireland four years ago, I looked up the family I knew we had, and spent my second weekend with Shane and his parents at their house in suburban Dublin. He was quiet, reserved rather, but was interested in America and me and our family, and I predictably pummelled him with detailed questions about him and his family and what it's like to live and grow up in Dublin. That first night, me, Shane, and his parents Kevin and Hannah, went to a local pub. His parents left at a certain time and when the pub closed he and I walked back to his house and drank Heinekens for a little while, watching MTV Europe and falling asleep.
After that weekend I didn't expect to see him again for awhile. My parents and sister would be coming to meet me in Dublin in six weeks but Shane went to San Francisco for the summer with his mates. We were surprised when we met up with the O'Connors later that Shane had had a bad go of it in America. He couldn't find a job, was running out of money and too many people were living in the small place they found. So he came home, and wasn't very happy about it. I remember being in his room the night before he and my parents arrived from the states (separate flights on the same day) and thinking that my room at home looked the same. He had books by Irish authors and music by Irish bands but for the most part they were filled with the trappings of young adult maleness. My parents arrived and for the rest of the weekend we spent time with them and many extended family and my dad was so insanely happy. We all were enjoying it and not just Michelle because she was given alcoholic cider at 13.
A few months after our trip Kevin called to tell us that Shane had slipped into a coma, from an unknown cause. It was similar to meningitis and encephalitis but was neither and everything was up in the air and uncertainty reigned. Six months later he pulled out of the coma but was paralyzed from the waist down. They still don't know what caused it. Shane was depressed, of course, but persevered. He pushed himself on all fronts, at one point living alone to push and test himself even more. He lived the life of a cripple, unable to walk or get around easily. Shane went back to college and lived on campus, which is uncommon in Ireland, and graduated last May. I spoke with Kevin just a week ago and asked how Shane was doing. He said he was walking again, albeit with a walker, and they had tricked out a car so he could drive it. I can only imagine that this inching toward normalcy was cherished.
Saturday night he went to a pub with his friends and his dad picked him up at the end of the night. He went to sleep. His alarm went off in the morning but he never turned it off. His mom went in to get him and found that he never woke up. Again, there are no answers as to why or how. An autopsy will be done, but those don't always answer the questions and can take a long time. It was devastating to hear the news.
We were supposed to see him next month when he went to Pittsburgh to see a rehab specialist. We're going to Dublin in November which will be very strange, and it probably won't fully hit me until I see his grave. I spent the most time with him of my relatives here and because we were closer in age I think he wasn't as reserved. There was more to bond over.
I had thought over the last few years that I should email him or write a letter just to see how he was doing. But I got lazy or busy or forgot, and time went by without. I could really hurt myself over my stupidity.
At the Frames concert on Saturday, I had thought about him. I wanted to remember to talk with him about how so much great music is pouring out of Ireland lately and who else he liked. I realized that I thought that probably as he was dying, with the time difference and all.
It's so unsettling because it is so shocking. When Kevin told my dad yesterday he seemed so resigned, saying "he cheated death once" and talking about how they felt lucky they had some more time with him after the coma. I'm sure they dealt with all of the feelings of possible death over those comatose months, but you can never prepare for a death especially when he rebounded like he did. It's just so incredibly sad.
Michelle commented that since we were over there, four relatives have died. We were lucky to have met them at all. For a couple of them, we spent only a few hours or an afteroon together, but through our pictures and our memories it seems like years. As for Shane, I wish you could see the movies playing inside my head about my time spent with an Irish cousin and all the fun we had. My stories don't match the visuals I'm recalling right now.
Rave on, Shane O'Connor. We don't know why, or how, but we have to accept that there is some reason you were taken so young. Life is just too complicated to be ended so easily. I hope and pray that something will appear to allow your family to wrap their heads around this huge loss.
After that weekend I didn't expect to see him again for awhile. My parents and sister would be coming to meet me in Dublin in six weeks but Shane went to San Francisco for the summer with his mates. We were surprised when we met up with the O'Connors later that Shane had had a bad go of it in America. He couldn't find a job, was running out of money and too many people were living in the small place they found. So he came home, and wasn't very happy about it. I remember being in his room the night before he and my parents arrived from the states (separate flights on the same day) and thinking that my room at home looked the same. He had books by Irish authors and music by Irish bands but for the most part they were filled with the trappings of young adult maleness. My parents arrived and for the rest of the weekend we spent time with them and many extended family and my dad was so insanely happy. We all were enjoying it and not just Michelle because she was given alcoholic cider at 13.
A few months after our trip Kevin called to tell us that Shane had slipped into a coma, from an unknown cause. It was similar to meningitis and encephalitis but was neither and everything was up in the air and uncertainty reigned. Six months later he pulled out of the coma but was paralyzed from the waist down. They still don't know what caused it. Shane was depressed, of course, but persevered. He pushed himself on all fronts, at one point living alone to push and test himself even more. He lived the life of a cripple, unable to walk or get around easily. Shane went back to college and lived on campus, which is uncommon in Ireland, and graduated last May. I spoke with Kevin just a week ago and asked how Shane was doing. He said he was walking again, albeit with a walker, and they had tricked out a car so he could drive it. I can only imagine that this inching toward normalcy was cherished.
Saturday night he went to a pub with his friends and his dad picked him up at the end of the night. He went to sleep. His alarm went off in the morning but he never turned it off. His mom went in to get him and found that he never woke up. Again, there are no answers as to why or how. An autopsy will be done, but those don't always answer the questions and can take a long time. It was devastating to hear the news.
We were supposed to see him next month when he went to Pittsburgh to see a rehab specialist. We're going to Dublin in November which will be very strange, and it probably won't fully hit me until I see his grave. I spent the most time with him of my relatives here and because we were closer in age I think he wasn't as reserved. There was more to bond over.
I had thought over the last few years that I should email him or write a letter just to see how he was doing. But I got lazy or busy or forgot, and time went by without. I could really hurt myself over my stupidity.
At the Frames concert on Saturday, I had thought about him. I wanted to remember to talk with him about how so much great music is pouring out of Ireland lately and who else he liked. I realized that I thought that probably as he was dying, with the time difference and all.
It's so unsettling because it is so shocking. When Kevin told my dad yesterday he seemed so resigned, saying "he cheated death once" and talking about how they felt lucky they had some more time with him after the coma. I'm sure they dealt with all of the feelings of possible death over those comatose months, but you can never prepare for a death especially when he rebounded like he did. It's just so incredibly sad.
Michelle commented that since we were over there, four relatives have died. We were lucky to have met them at all. For a couple of them, we spent only a few hours or an afteroon together, but through our pictures and our memories it seems like years. As for Shane, I wish you could see the movies playing inside my head about my time spent with an Irish cousin and all the fun we had. My stories don't match the visuals I'm recalling right now.
Rave on, Shane O'Connor. We don't know why, or how, but we have to accept that there is some reason you were taken so young. Life is just too complicated to be ended so easily. I hope and pray that something will appear to allow your family to wrap their heads around this huge loss.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)