Here's The Thing

Today when I was reading Mandy's blog called Still Good I had these thoughts I have from time to time.

First, people give life too much credit.  It's miniscule.  It's puny.  It's insignificant.  If you believe what I believe then you believe in eternity.  If eternity is infinant time, then you need to ponder what percent 100 years or so is of infinity.  Miniscule.  Puny.  Insignificant.

People put all this effort into the wonders of living an extra 20 (or 50) years.  People describe the loss of a few decades with horror and dread.  From my new perspective the extra 50 years is like cutting your vacation short by heading for the airport 10 minutes earlier.  I've probably got less than 30 good years left and when it seems like too long, I just focus on the big picture and realize it's the length of a photographers flash.  For me it's a coping mechanism from time to time, but if you think your life is the most important thing, perhaps you should consider grabbing hold of something else.

The other thing that runs through my head is how everyone has it backwards.  I never prayed for Shane's recovery.  I always prayed for God's will.  In church today the preacher said when we pray we don't really wan't the answer to be "no" or "wait" we only want it to be "yes". 

Hind sight being 20-20 I would have traded the "yes" I got for either of those other two choices but that's only because I, like everyone else, have it backwards.

Did Shane lose his battle with cancer?  Is he worse off than people who "dodged the bullet" so to speak and spend the rest of their lives getting annual checkups with crossed fingers?  Seems like there is some deep philosophy in there somewhere but what I learned is that from the perspective of the big picture I am like life.

Miniscule.  Puny.  Insignificant.

I expect if I were more I would realize that the greatest will be the least, loosing is a win, and somehow many of us are being decieved. 

In all that I find another coping mechinism.  Backwards or forwards, when the dust settles the worst I can do is leave five or ten minutes early (or late) for the airport.  The vacation comes to an end anyway. 

20 Goals for 2014

I've never really been a "New Year's Resolution" kind of a guy.  The one time I DID have a resolution it was to never do a new year's resolution (and I've kept that one for decades).

I point this out because I don't want anyone to get the wrong impression.  This is not resolutions, oh no, far from it.  I'm not searching for some high in the sky summit.  I was just young and restless and bored, living by the sword.  So I'd steal away every chance I could to the back rooms, alleys, and trusty woods...

Oops.  Sorry, I got distracted.  Please disregard that last paragraph. 

As I was saying, this post isn't about new years resolutions, oh no, far from it.  It is just that I have a habit of setting goals for the next year during the final week of the previous year.

It may sound like resolutions but that isn't where it came from.  For the second half of my career I always got more vacation that I could take so it was a rare year indeed when I didn't have the last week of the year off.  Having time off gave me time to close the books on the previous year and start planing the new one.  It was driven by vacation.  It was not resolutions.

So...

Here are some of my goals for 2014.

1. Write more than one post per month - My actual goal was to average a post more often than one every two weeks.  I always enjoy writing but just don't make enough time for it.  This year I'm going to track my efforts in hopes that it will drive me to write more often.
    
2. Build storage in the sheds - I currently have more stuff than I have space for stuff.  One of my places for stuff is a storage shed that has no shelves so the stuff is all over the floor.  I want to build shelves so I can put the stuff in those big plastic tubs and put the tubs on the shelf.
   
   (For what it is worth and this isn't really connected to the goal in any way - the tubs of stuff will likely remain on the shelves, untouched, until I die.  Once that happens, Mandy will probably throw them away without opening them)
    
3. Exercise more than an hour more than three days a week - The exercise thing is weird.  I no longer have a boss telling me I need to work some extra hours today.  I always planned to exercise more once I reached this point in my life.  Well, that has not happened yet.  Minimum three days a week.  Minimum of one hour.  It shouldn't be hard.  My time is my own.
    
4. Ride my bike more than a thousand miles - That sound like a bunch when I write it down but if you spread it out over a year it is less than 3 miles a day.  Today is the 4th so I'm currently 12 miles behind!
    
5. Play over 500 holes of disc golf - Think about it, I could knock off this goal and number 3 above at the same time if I played long enough!
    
6. Have a minimum of one evening with the Barret family - You know the drill.  You have these friends you see once or twice a decade.  You always say "We should get together soon".  Everyone agrees but it never happens. 
    
7. Add on to #6: Time with Tuc Goodwin.
    
8. Add on to #6: Time with Jack Story.
    
9. Add on to #6: Time with Jerry Jackson.
    
10. Add on to #6: Go visit Bill Herman (given that I can never get him to come here it seems)
     
11. Float the river - This new place where Michelle and I work is right on the Arkansas river and there are float outfitters all up and down the river.  We need to check that out before the year ends.
     
12. Visit my friends in Seattle - Specifically Chris, Kim, and Dennis.  Every year for a while I've been telling myself I should go but I never seem to get to it.  This year it's a goal.
     
13. Take a vacation out of the country - This is actually a ringer because I've already booked a trip to Honduras and Belize in February.  I'm going to meet with a friend from H.S. swim team and do a little scuba diving.  We're also being joined by some Cookson friends from down the street.  Anybody else want to join us?
     
14. Start a periodic poker game - We used to play poker at least once a month.  Haven't done that for a while.  I miss it.  I want to fix it.
     
15. Play golf @ Flint Ridge - I had plans to do this with my son last 4th of July but he got a better offer and didn't show up.  Guess I'll put it on my 2014 list.
     
16. Denver Poker Game - Back in the day we used to have periodic poker evenings with the guys from work.  Greg Reiman and Ray Ciarvella were staples.  I want to say Scott Boettcher used to be there (but I'm not sure).  Anyway, one of my goals is to organize and travel up there for one of those.
     
17. Visit my brother Bill & my cousin Bruce - They live close to one another.  One in Tennessee and one in Georgia.  Seems like I could knock both of these off in a single trip.
     
18. Clean out Tia's room - Right now we have many much things from our 706 house in one room.  My goal is to clean that room out and make it into a place where we can sit and/or use the computer.
     
19. Deal with my motorcycles - Get them running and either sell them or start using them again.
     
20. Deal with my pickup - Get it out of the shop in Allen.  Either sell it or start working on it again in Oklahoma.
     
21. Build Newbie a Window Seat - The dog loves to look out the window and I currently have two TV trays beside my desk.  I have food cans, jars and boxes of the appropriate height on the trays and a section of my old deck on top of that.  Newbie has a bed on the desk section where he lays and looks out the window.  I need to build something permanent so I can get my Pace Picante sauce and Nestles Quick back.
     
22. Finish my book (and start looking for a publisher) - I've written most of a C# text book.  My book is being used by the High School where I teach.  I say "written most of" because as I teach I find I go back and rewrite parts to cover gaps created by how the students are learning the materials.  I would like to have a publishable version prior to the end of the year.
      
23. Build stairs to the shed - There is a shed in the yard beside the house.  The space between our house and the shed is terraced and I often ponder if I will lose my life taking the giant steps down the terrice.

So there you have it.  20 things I hope to accomplish this year.  I'll put posts out periodically giving status.  Feel free to humiliate and tease me if I drop too far behind in my quest to accomplish these goals.  That will be the accountability part.

Either You Believe it or You Don't

On Christmas eve last year a friend wrote a Facebook post about how wonderful 2013 was and how happy he was that his wife beat a case of blood based cancer.  I have spent a great deal of time since then thinking about something he included.  It said: 

We've also learned from friends who modeled how to handle a battle lost to cancer with faith, dignity, strength, and grace.

I don't know for sure that this part of his post was about us, but regardless, it spent a lot of time in my head.

I remember spending much of Christmas thinking I didn't want to be dignified or strong.  I wanted my kid back.  I wanted to watch him playing with his kid.  I wanted him to see Devin dumping all of the lego blocks on the floor with a thundering crash.  I wanted more of those awkward moments when my boy was talking way over my head about sports and I would try to participate in the conversation without sounding like a complete idiot.

For the record, I am so thrilled that my friend got to write his Facebook post telling how scary it was to consider the worst case scenario, and how wonderful it was to live out the best case scenario.  I was always thrilled about that, but now, in hind sight, I remember something I did when raising Shane and Mandy.

I used to travel a lot and sometimes I would see a gift that would give one of my kids a thrill.  I would buy the gift and bring it home knowing that Michelle would be uneasy with the fact that one kid was getting a gift and the other was not.  She was afraid it wasn't fair.

For my part, I would insist that my approach was right because I wanted the kids to learn to share the joy of others and I also wanted them to understand that nobody promised any of us "fair".

A year and a half ago the company I worked for put out an early retirement offering.  For decades prior to the offering I used to pontificate about my belief that there should be three phases in your life.  The first starts when you are born and is centered on serving yourself.  Phase one ends when you get married and choose to put your family out front.  Phase two is about serving your family and the ones you love.  I always said the third phase came when your children were grown and phase three was about serving those outside of your family circle.

My decision to leave my job of nearly 30 years was predicated on another thing I say quite often.  "Either you believe it or you don't".  If I really believed my theory about the three phases it was time for phase three.  If I didn't then it was just fine to stay in corporate America and continue to accumulate wealth.

I left.

So 2013 brought significant surprises, the greatest of which was two cases of cancer.  One was a winner and one was a loser and once again I'm faced with a case of "Either you believe it or you don't".

Do I really believe life isn't fair any you need to share the joy of the winners when you didn't get anything?

Oh, if it were only that simple.

Consider the "meat" of the sentence my friend wrote:

"how to handle a battle lost to cancer with faith, dignity, strength, and grace."

Again, I don't know it was about us, but if it was, some of it hit home, some of it was clearly a swing and a miss.

For example "dignity".  Maybe Michelle, but have you met me?  Dignity is not one of the things I exude.

Meanwhile, the faith part is easy. 

At one point during this wacky journey someone put their hand on my shoulder and said "It's OK to be angry with God over this".

I remember thinking that was one of the dumbest things I've ever heard.  Be angry with God?  {insert manic laughter here}

My faith has always made the concept of death little more than a curiosity (one that was too permanent to check out, but interesting none the less).  I've always said death wasn't a big deal.  It was just the last part of living.  Historically, when it was time for members of the Crawford family to die it was time to celebrate, not mourn. 

Although the timing of Shane's death was totally messed up, none of us has any doubt that what happened to him is more than worth the pain and suffering he went through the six weeks prior to his death. 

(And for those of you who like heavy thoughts in your head, my faith leaves me wondering who was the cancer winner and who was the cancer loser.  Is Shane better or worse off than our friend who beat the disease?)

Ok.  That covers faith and dignity.  Grace and strength are left.

Grace was hard.  When Shane's drama was going on I didn't pray for healing.  I simply prayed for God's will.  I also finished each prayer with a plea that if God's will was to take my little boy that he give me grace to handle it.  I knew I couldn't handle it on my own.

Finally we have strength.  Perhaps an illusion makes us look strong but if you could get on the inside you would clearly see that strength is a great facade.

You might look and think you see it, but none of us claim to be strong.  The illusion of strength is simply making a choice not to be what you really are, a jello emotional melt down right on the verge of happening.

For my part, the strength facade is rooted in a song called "Carry On" by a band named "Fun".  The song was played at Shane's funeral and I've never heard it all the way through without melting down.  Ths song, however, is about phase three.  It's about a hundred and forty kids who still need us.  It's about little Devin and the illusion of strength when it says:  

On our darkest day
When we're miles away
So we'll come, we will find our way home

If you're lost and alone
Or you're sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground and
Carry on

Divine Evidence

During last half of this year I must have written over a dozen posts that I erased upon reading the final draft because they were just too dark.  They represented what was in my heart, but there has been a lot of emotion in my life this year, and much of it just isn't valuable for sharing.  It's my yoke, I need to pull the load.  As I write this particular post, I am determined to publish it regardless of how it comes out.

In my new world perspective I find myself believing that there are some perspectives on death and suffering that actually provide evidence of God's existence.  This true story has all three; suffering, death, and proof of design that I can't explain without God's existence.

Michelle and I had a rough day Friday (actually, mostly me but I managed to bring Michelle down too). At some point Saturday morning I watched the last half of 'Legally Blond' on TV.  In the final scene of the show, Reece Witherspoon gives a commencement speech, the graduating class throw their tassel laden hats in the air, and I'm suddenly transported back to the same image from the 2001 Allen high school graduation at Prestonwood auditorium.  I cry silently and then tell Michelle we should go to Springdale Arkansas and look for a distraction from our life.  We go, she does some shopping, we take in a movie at the dollar theater, and we eat a high end date style dinner at Taco Bueno.

Shortly after we got home, the psycho puppy freaks out.  He's whining, barking, and trying to squeeze into the two inch space at the bottom of our couch.  Finally, after the level of chaos became unbearable, I walked behind the couch, grabbed the back, and tilted the couch so Newbie could examine the underside and get over his obsessive compulsive madness.  As Newbie moved under the heaviest part of the couch (it's actually a hide-a-bed) the extra weight made it slip out of my hand.  Suddenly the room was filled with a pained howl that is permanently imprinted in my mind.

The next thing I know my little dog runs straight into the wall, spins wildly, crashes through a TV tray (with pictures of Mandy on it), wedges into the corner of the room for a moment, does a virtual back flip out of the corner, and then launches into the air, a brown and grey blur. 

Next, I watch it die.

In hind sight, I'm surprised that I didn't see it earlier but I believe this is because I was still juggling the couch, reacting to such unexpected chaos, and distracted by the sound of furry and crashes. 

The first time I saw it was when Newbie launched into the air.  Newbie's path through the air matching it's speed and direction.  As the ground squirrel looked back to see where the dog was, the psycho puppy landed and delivered a quick kill.

Years ago Newbie killed a big, black bird and left it in the bath tub for us.  When I told Michelle about it she was sad for the bird.   From time to time following yesterday's excitement and drama I find myself feeling a wee bit sorry for the ground squirrel...but only briefly.  My fondness for these happy little rodents is quickly overcome with thoughts of what I said to Michelle about the bird.

"God gave birds the gift of flight.  If one of them can be killed by a dog that stands 6 inches tall, the death is Gods way of saying that he needs to eliminate that particular line from the gene pool." 

This is equally if not more true for a squirrel that decides to take up residence in a couch that is the favorite sleeping place of a terrier.  This is even MORE true if the terrier is Newbie the psycho puppy. 

I have no doubt that God designed natural selection to compliment his design of our ever changing world.  Watching Newbie demonstrate that he is faster than a ground squirrel when competing on his home court was further evidence of God's divine design.

Wearing 58

Having lived over half a century, I've been to a number of funerals. Every funeral I've attended I've always worn a suit and tie, it is what I was taught. It was always the right thing to do.

When Shane died, I deviated from the norm and instead of getting out my best suit, I went shopping.

Take a trip back with me nearly 30 years. My earliest memory of Shane's connection with the Broncos was when he was around Devin's age. We moved to Portland Oregon and they had a number of Phillips 76 gas stations in the area. When we would drive by one, baby Shane would look up through the back window of our Honda fastback, see the bright orange 76 ball, and yell "Go Broncos!".

The connection has been that long.

Four or five years later Shane was further refining his alighment with the Broncos and more specifically with John Elway

So it started back that far. Far enough back that the word "always" is appropriate.

When Shane turned 12 he entered the world of working in professional sports (no kidding - I thought he would get a job mowing lawns but I guess I wasn't specific enough when I suggested he find work so he could have more spending money).

When it came to sports apparel, I would steer him to the racks of team tees. Shane, finding the expensive "authentic" apparel would have none of it.

"But Dad! These are the REAL team Jerseys, just like the players wear in games!" he would exclaim.

I, in turn, would explain you could get a team tee shirt for $8.00 rather than spending $70 for the "real thing".

But Shane had a job, Shane had money of his own, Shane was dedicated to sports, and Shane saved up and purchased those "real" jerseys. Meanwhile, I kept buying the $8.00 tees.

Prior to this funeral, I've never paid more than $20 for a sports team shirt.

When Shane died and it was time to say goodbye, I decided to do it dressed in a way that would have made him smile.

I did something I would never do. I went to an "official" outlet and dropped just under 300 dollars for a pair of Denver Bronco Jerseys (one for Michelle). Not just a "real" jersey, but as Shane would have said "The best ones with the letters and names sewn on, not stenciled".

That's why the jersey.

It's about what matters to the boy. But why number 58?

The number 58 is worn by Denver Broncos outside linebacker Von Miller. Von is a graduate of Texas A&M. Von makes 1.33 million dollars a season, runs the 40 in 4.49 seconds, and Von had his father call my little boy the day Shane got home after his first chemotherapy session.

Shane was invited to "hang out" with Von and some of the other Broncos, but a few short days later Shane's colon blew out and the rest is history.

After Shane passed, another call came inviting Cassandra, Devin, my daughter, son-in-law, and Cassandra's mother up to training camp. Von met with Cassandra and Devin. He signed a jersey that he wore in a game last season and gave it to Cassandra.

Von also set Shane's family up in the VIP Accommodations for the training camp day, met with them, and gave Jack and Mandy tickets to an upcoming game.

I wear the jersey, rather than a suit, out of respect. It's about respect for my son who loves sports so much. It's about an NFL player who didn't have to do anything, but chose to show respect to my son and his family.

Been there, done that. Got the shirt.

It's the last time I'll ever attend a funeral and not wear a suit.

Making My Way Back...

In a surprise move that will ruin the "Just go to Google and search for 'Not only does he talk too much'" advice I've been giving for years, I've changed my Google profile and the name of my blog.

My little sister was keeping my 86 year old dad in the loop as Shane quickly progressed through his illness. After Shane died, my dad got confused and thought it was me.

I took a quick trip up to Gillette Wyoming to either explain the situation or REALLY freak my dad out by showing up.

While we were there, we talked about this weird "dying isn't that big of a deal" attitude that is prevelant in the Crawford line.

For my dad and me faith was not something you work at. It just is. Although I've spent countless hours debating God's existance with my intelectual but non-believing friends, in my mind, the discussion was always just rediculious. I'm perfectly willing to have the same debate about the existance of air, light or gravity and each of these discussions would be equally silly.

This faith doesn't come from my heart. Truth be told, I'm not much of a "this comes from the heart" kind of a guy. It all comes from my mind. I can't look at the obvious signs of design all around me and not have the existance of a creator be a no-brainer. Perhaps I'm morphing into a completely different post so let me realign...

So, I'm in Wyoming trying to freak out my dad by showing up and using his confusion to suggest a reserection thing.

We were talking about how Shane faced his death with wonder, anticipation, and virtually no fear. I asked my dad if that attitude was prevelant on the Crawford side or if it came exclusively from my Grandmother's father (I'll write another post about him later).

Dad assured me it was all his mom, not his father.

Thinking back on raising my kids I couldn't begin to count all the times I said "If it wasn't so perminant, I would LOVE to die and check out the other side".

I remember when my grandmother Crawford died. It wasn't this sad, everybody cries kind of a thing. She wasn't bothered that it was coming, and when it finally happened, everyone was so happy for her.

Mission accomplished.

So here we are. The boy is gone (I called him that right up to and including this year) and if you read my earlier posts, he won't have time to miss us before we start showing up. Meanwhile, the acturaial folks that are advising me on how to manage my money in retirement tell me I've probably got another 30 years down here.

Thirty years of serving the lord, helping the kids, and now (as if I needed one more thing to look forward to)...

Making my way back to Shane.

What I'm Not Going to Say

When we started planning the memorial service for my son Shane, my daughter asked me if I wanted to get up and give a eulogy. As many of you know, I’m a person who loves to hear himself talk, especially in front of large crowds, but in this case it took me mere nanoseconds to decline. I really have no desire to stand before my loved ones and friends as I cry like a little girl who just had a big dog knock her down and eat the ice cream off her cone.

Streaming tears and shaking shoulder sobs aside, Shane’s life really didn’t deserve silence, so here’s what I’m not going to say about him at the service this afternoon.

{The room is silent. I stand and quietly walk to the podium dressed in tennis shoes, Levis, and a bright orange Broncos jersey donning the number 58. I reach the podium and stare at the crowd until the inactivity grows and the room begins to become uncomfortable and then I speak in a booming voice}

Why all the gloomy faces? My son just died! This isn’t supposed to be a sad time so suck it up, join me, and consider what I just said...

My son, Shane Robert Crawford is dead!

{pause for reflection}

Let’s consider what that means to us and then let’s consider an appropriate reaction based on what Shane would want.

My Grandfather died before Shane was born. One of Shane's grandmothers died while he was still figuring out how to walk and learning that when his parents say “hot” it’s a pretty good idea not to touch it.

Another of his grandmothers died a couple of years ago.

The way I always envisioned it, the order would be his Grandfather Crawford next followed by his Grand Patti and Grand John in no particular order, then his mom as a result of a threat that I would be placed to rest in North Dakota if I dared to go first. Finally after all that was out of the way he would carry on for another 30 or 40 years and THEN it would be his turn.

That’s how it played in my head. That’s how it was supposed to go.

From one perspective, I see Shane’s death as a form of cutting in line. It wasn’t supposed to be his turn and I’m totally weirded out by the concept of him meeting my father at the pearly gates and offering to show dad around. It’s surreal to me that he’s going to understand whether unborn babies, like his sister Stephanie Rae, get a soul and exist in eternity or if God, knowing they won’t make it to term omits the soul. I’ve been wondering about that since before Shane was born and now he gets to know the answer before I do. From the perspective of cutting in line, Shane sort of cheated.

From the other perspective Shane’s early passing is more of who Shane came to be. The product of my greatest desires, the result of his mom’s and my best efforts, so let me tell you about my 40th birthday.

Michelle was planning a surprise party and it was Shane’s job to get me out of the house. He offered a tennis match and I accepted.

As we walked to the courts my mind was overwhelmed with one thought. Not today! Shane and I had been playing tennis for years and this little snot nosed teenager wasn’t going to beat me for the first time THAT day. Not on my 40th birthday. I just couldn’t let that happen.

I’m proud to report that I beat Shane is straight sets. 6-1, 6-3. I let NOTHING go. If I had to dive for a shot and destroy an elbow, so be it. I wasn’t going to lose for the first time. Not on that day. Shane begged for a third set. “Just for fun” he said as I wheezed and choked down big gulps of air. I refused, we got back earlier than planned, the surprise was ruined and I suppose Shane failed in his mission.

I’m pretty sure that was the last time I ever beat Shane at tennis and as he progressed from snot nosed teen to young adult he methodically checked off victory after victory as he whittled away at all of the things I did better than him.

I suppose beating me at sports is no surprise. He was younger and faster so when he took a disc golf match or slammed a basketball jumper back into my face it was to be expected. Every time he beat me I was glad. It was my job to make him better than I was.

One day Shane came to visit, took a look at the bridge between my LAN and my WiFi, then sat me down and said “Dad, you’re really not technical anymore. You still think you are, but if it’s OK with you I want to reconfigure your DHCP server and security and make it better.

That was a little harder for me but upon reflection, this too was a blessing. My boy was better, he was beating me and that was how things should be.

The last time I remember watching my son and realizing he had bested me once again was when I watched his interaction with my grandson. Devin was the world to Shane and Shane’s devotion to his son and wife was second to none. I found myself realizing Shane was coming out of the gate as a better father and husband than I had been. Unlike the other times when there was a twinge of pain in the defeat followed by joy in seeing what my little boy had become, seeing Shane spend time with Devin was nothing but pure joy for me. His mom and I did a great job on the foundation then God and Cassandra were molding him into something amazing.

So here we are, sitting in this church feeling stunned and confused. At the tender age of 30, Shane is dead and gone.

It’s surreal.

Shane’s cancer and his death put my head in a fog and I struggled with the simplest thoughts, but as my mind clears I realize he’s done it again. This wasn’t a cut in line, it was Shane beating me yet another time. This time he has beat me to the ultimate prize and if I think about it, REALLY think about it, this is like seeing him with Devin. His arriving at the finish line first, getting there before his remaining grandparents, getting there before his mom and me, this isn’t a thing that is sad. This is a thing to be celebrated and talked about for years to come.

So I ask you again. Why all the gloomy faces? My son just died! This isn’t supposed to be a sad time so suck it up, join me, and consider what I just said. My son, Shane Robert Crawford is dead!

Let’s celebrate his life, and as my friend Chris Ifland said, let’s celebrate it well.