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Posts Tagged ‘storytelling’

I’m actually having to wear a sweater as I sit on the porch this morning. It rained in the early hours though not enough based on the level of water in the birdbath. A gray day but still bright. A light that makes the white blooms luminous and the reds muted. Classical music wafts from the interior out here to me. As I look around I can see maybe one task for today out here, to properly plant the lemon verbena purchased this weekend.

The sorrel and sage I planted right away. Did a lot of deadheading this weekend and rearranging of chairs and small tables. Basically I reworked the accommodations that had been made for Steve’s wheelchair and long legs needing a significant turn radius to maneuver in and out of the house. So I made the sitting space tighter and more intimate and then clumped flowers, herbs and foliage for density. Then there’s some “white space” between the sitting area and the ramp. Nope haven’t removed the ramp yet. It’s actually convenient and it may prove useful if I need to roll some of the big pots into the house for overwintering.

The plants bordering the ramp are a bit chaotic if bright. Just playing around unprofessionally with color and height. I tend to buy what I can find in a moments notice, especially items on sale, and what I can ferry home by Uber or public transportation. I know that garden centers will deliver big pots/plants but I’m not ready for that investment. Maybe, for landscaping on the ground, in the spring. We’ll see.

So much of what evolved in this little garden space is a balance for my aesthetic desires and Steve’s strong interest in functionality and purpose. For instance he could appreciate the beauty of the strawflower and its biology … but they’re not edible and could a small tomato plant instead fit in that space? 🙂

We sure did have some interesting, ahem, conversations about edible flowers. You see, I bought several books on the subject. One day years ago I walked around the house and picked the petals of edible flowers, maybe a tulip and/or orchid. When Steve walked through the door, home for work, I just handed him the flowers and said, “Eat this.” He did and then raced for a sip of red wine (his go to medicinal when something tasted off) and then asked, “Why are you trying to kill me?” I held up the book. He threw up his arms. “Just because it’s edible doesn’t mean it tastes good!”

On this porch, our last one together, there are many culinary herbs. Of course, the basil, several pots, chives and oreganos, thymes, lavender and now the lemon verbena. I have to admit the chocolate mint is thriving and starting to smell better and better to me. There was a part of me soon after things happened where I considered just letting things go to seed and as things died I would simply clear the porch and not fill in … and then I could hear Steve’s voice. “Dear one, don’t be ridiculous.”

There is joy and well as tears in sitting on the porch whether quietly with a beverage or on the phone with friends as I juggle the phone and trying to put dirt in a pot. So far, so far, I have been able to make myself harvest something from the porch each evening for dinner. It is hard but can be fun to take a few moments to google how to use rosemary and oregano together and so on. When I shared with a friend at work about giving away the pinched basil because Steve was not here to make pesto, he said, “Understandable. And when you’re ready to make your own pesto, bring me some.” I agreed.

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Math. English. Religion.

As I’ve been cleaning up I stumbled upon a small cache of papers Steve had written for these courses fifty years ago. I wish I had found them earlier so I could have asked him some pointed questions. The only things he ever told me about his undergraduate years was dating and of climbing the school walls to practice rock climbing. Why he saved these five papers I can’t even imagine. To even make my way through the first paragraphs of some of the papers I have to stop and google to fill in my ignorance. I now know after reading “Caliban and Thersites: A Comparison” that Thersites was a deformed warrior or as Steve wrote:

Caliban from The Tempest and Thersites of Troilus and Cressida are two of Shakespeare’s less lovable characters. Their major similiarity is that they are deformed. In this paper we will explore the effects of their deformaties on their characters.

In the list of characters of Troilus and Cressida Thersites is described as “a deformed and scurrilous Greek.” Wesbster’s definition of “scurrilous” is “using or given to the language of buffoonery; being vulgar and evil.” This does not quite seem to fit. Thersites does not use the language of buffoonery; this can be established easily by comparing his language to Ajax, who is indeed a buffoon. While Thersites is vulgar, certainly, he cannot be called evil; Iago of Othello is evil, and Thersites does not measure up. …”

Now I did happen to ask Steve a few years ago, assuming but of course he would have read Shakespeare, what was his favorite play and he said The Tempest. He received a B on the paper with the professor writing, “A brief study but it contains original thinking …”

Now I had heard tell of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. So for his paper, “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as Existentialist Characters,” Steve begins:

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are among the most shabbily dealt with of all the characters in Shakespeare’s plays. They don’t seem totally believable, which makes them probably unique among Shakespeare’s creations. Tom Stoddard, in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, has developed a more modern explanation for their existence, in existential terms.

And concludes:

The obvious connection Stoddard is making is between Rosencrantz and Guildenstern of Hamlet and the existential vision of the human condition. There are obvious parallels between Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead and Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot ...”

To which Steve’s professor commented that would make a great topic for a full length study. Steve received a B. The paper on Ghandi was the most lengthy. Received a B. And then there are the A papers …

Steve was a wonderful writer and a great editor for me up until the end. His feedback for me, depending on the writing project, was to not assume what the reader knows but to guide them along. Of all the papers his “Axiomatic Models and the Universe,” I have enjoyed most of all. In part as I read I hear his voice. He wrote so clearly about complex ideas though of course for him it wasn’t complex.

Implicit in the structure of any axiomatic model is the concept of causality. If we ask Newton why the planet Mars is in a particular place at a particular time, he might say that it follows a defined orbit. What causes it to follow this orbit? It moves in such a way that the centripetal force pulling it away from the sun equals the gravitational force pulling it in. When we ask what causes these forces, we are told, “They are inherent in matter.” We have returned to the axioms. In general, if in the model a proposition A implies a proposition B, then in the “real world” the event related to A is the cause of the event related to B.” Let us perform a thought experiment. We shall create a universe ...”

From the professors’ comments and questions in the margins you could tell he was thoroughly engaged. On the final page the professor notes that it was a very interesting and imaginative paper, well writte, nicely constructed and an excellent effort. A-

The final paper is handwritten on lined paper. It is yellowed and crumbling. As much as Steve complained about his handwriting it was quite legible back then. No title but it opens, “This paper is an attempt to apply the scholastic method, as J. C. Murray explains it, to try to explore what seems to be an intersection between formal logic and theology.

Now Steve and I didn’t talk about this stuff. We didn’t need to but one night early on … shortly after I’d met him and said I wasn’t interested … I was walking along and I sat on a bench and looked up at the sky. There was a rainbow around the moon. And for some reason, of all the people I knew, I decided to call this quirky science guy I’d just met. I described to him what I saw and then he proceeded to tell me about a light bending and splitting and so on and so forth. I cut him off and said indignantly, “Hey, I was describing something beautiful.” And he replied matter of factly, “And so was I.”

Perhaps I will scan them and share with his children so they can glimpse another side of their father. It was a lovely surprise to find them today.

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The morning began with coffee on the porch and then a bit of sprucing out there. The tomato and pepper plants are done so I pulled them and then some deadheading of the marigolds and picking dead blossoms from the petunias so that they will continue to bloom. I need to figure out what a late summer/autumn porch will look like. Then back inside I went.

With a Mary Berry cooking series playing in the background I’ve been moving around the house continuing the clean up. I used Steve’s pocket knife to break down some boxes for recycling. We had amassed a huge number of pillows. I threw them on the bed planning to sort them and decide which ones to keep, etc. And in doing so I found a stack of lambs wool used to cushion Steve’s increasingly sensitive skin. Holding the wool made me a bit teary. Everything I touch evokes a memory. And what I hear. Mary Berry is in Marrakesh at the moment I think cooking flat bread. It could be hard to capture Steve’s attention but he really enjoyed watching the cooking shows. I think in part because he just loved to learn. An earlier Steve would have taken that flat bread recipe and added his own special twist.

The lambswool could not prevent him from eventually getting bed sores one of which became deep and then infected. Between bouts with cancer and strokes over the years it became increasingly difficult for him to fight infections of any sort. I think when people would look at his paperwork they’d be surprised by how much of a fighter he truly was until the very end. When I sit on the porch in the mornings next to an empty chair, I do miss him … and I am increasingly glad he is no longer suffering. I am thankful that he chose to stay with me for as long as he could and that he was home.

On the porch there is a dipladenia plant growing like mad. In the before times I would have asked Steve to make a trellis and tie it up so that the plant would grow upwards instead of outwards. He liked purposeful activities like that. But now is now and I’m going to make the trellis. I have some branches I collected that I need to trim using Steve’s saw and some twine and … I’ve got bandages galore in case something slips. But before I do any of that I am going to take a moment to purposefully and mindfully make myself a simple breakfast and then make my way to a favorite gardening store before it gets too hot and keep Steve in my heart and thoughts so that I don’t go crazy with the credit card. 🙂

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So as I walked around the house with Steve’s Japanese wooden sword draped over my shoulder, I thought of the warriors in Akira Kurosawa’s The Seven Samurai. I especially thought of the character played by actor Toshiro Mifune who carried his scabbarded metal sword that way, walking sometimes with a drunken gait. Growing up I was big into action movies, the good ones like The Seven Samurai, the bad ones and everything in between. Interest has waxed and waned over the years but in recent times Steve and I had been watching the occasional martial arts movie via the streaming services.

About six or so years ago, after completing treatment for cancer, Steve and I impulsively walked into a martial arts studio and he resumed his studies begun in youth. Less about defense, as the focus may have been when he’d been a young man, but more so a focus on improving balance, strength building, increasing range of motion, etc. The cancer had impacted his eyesight as well as other things and there were many exercises, including with the sword, to help body and brain rewire to deal with new deficits in motion and vision.

Steve was always very mindful when he was swinging the sword around the house. He’d say, “Don’t get too close behind me and don’t stand on my left where I can’t see you.” Now I thought he was being overly cautious but I do realize, in hind sight, that one of my blind spots with Steve is that I never perceived how tall he was and therefore how long his reach. I appreciate that he found many ways to look out for me.

As for the sword, I took a few big swings mimicking some moves I’d seen in movies. After a few “Ow!” I decided, if I choose to keep it, I should probably get in touch with Steve’s teacher to get some proper training. 🙂

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Now growing up in southern Virginia, fishing was pretty common. All the male members of my family fished though somehow they neglected to take me along. So it wasn’t until I moved to Boston and met this quirky fellow who loved fishing that I finally held a fishing pole. That’s right, I held it. But to Steve’s consternation I didn’t move it. He tried to explain standing there with the line in the water watching the sunlight play upon the lake was not the same as actively trying to catch a fish. I told him, “I think I’m into the zen of fishing.” He just shook his head. Luckily for Steve, a good friend connected him with a group of men who’d been fishing together for decades since they were children. A spot opened up and Steve fit. About every two years they’d gather and make their way to a fishing hole in Canada. It was probably one of the most joyous experiences Steve looked forward to later in life. One of the gentlemen shared this photo with me in his memory.

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I’m doing my best this morning to channel Steve as I pinch the basil. My first thought when I looked out on the porch this morning was, “What the hell am I going to do with all this basil?” I’m certainly not in the mood or mode to make pesto though he taught me well. Clearly the pots needed pinching, stems growing long and tall toward the sun. Some were beginning to feel firm to the touch, getting barky. No flowers yet so this was a good moment theoretically to dive right in.

The first time I watched Steve pinch basil … removing topmost shoots on the plant so that the plant redirects energy to growing bushier and increasing yield … I was horrified. I told him he was scalping the plant to within an inch of its life. He shook his head and said, matter of factly, “This works. You’ll see.” I did.

So this morning with cup of coffee by my side, I sat on the porch and pinched basil. I’ve decided to split the harvest in two. Soon I’ll make my way into work. I hope my two colleagues will be pleasantly surprised by their culinary gifts. Have a good day!

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Two days ago Steve and I sat on the porch, me with a glass of wine and he with a mango cocktail sans alcohol. I have written a lot about Steve over the years even before I knew what he meant to me. What do I write now that I haven’t written before? We sat on the porch that day because he had remarked that he hadn’t been out there in awhile. We sat with me prattling on and then I realized he hadn’t applied sunblock and I needed to get him back inside.

I have been regaling people today about how Steve pursued me even though I didn’t know I was being pursued. Or how he wrapped his long arms around anyone, and I mean anyone, that he thought he could help with no strings attached. He was brilliant and curious and loved to learn even when the various illnesses and chronic pain stripped away some of that motivation and curiosity. Some of what I miss most that was stripped away was his smile and then his voice. His intellect was slowed but not diminished. His love for those close, and those far, never diminished.

I will figure out what more to write in the future, and I hope it will be meaningful. Today I write that this morning Stephen Frederick Horne passed away peacefully in his home with family by his side.

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… even as you’re leaving work and making your way back to the hospital to visit your spouse, you take a moment to pop into Trader Joe’s for some wonderfully inexpensive flowers. Not for him. For me! The potted organic basil that was for him. His neighbor this time around in a shared room was a very sweet Greek man who thought I was too skinny and so as I left Steve one day he made me take a piece of his wife’s cheesy cornbread. It was darn tasty as I stood there in the hallway waiting for the elevator to the main lobby.

He is home again, by the way. We have been too often to the hospital this year and we seem to be, ahem, a recognizable pair. Staff at different levels who’ve interacted with us over time, and so they know his journey, say that I am taking good care of him. I don’t know what they’re seeing but I’m happy they see whatever they are seeing. He now rests at home laying in bed listening, as I type, to compositions by Johannes Ockeghem as sung by the group Blue Heron. We used to attend the group’s concerts and we may do so again. I just asked if he might like to attend again one day and he said yes. We’ll see what the future holds. 🙂

You can learn more about Blue Heron here: https://www.blueheron.org/

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When I told Steve that the plant next to him was lavender eventually his right hand swept out in a languid fashion so that his fingers could sweep through the leaves. He then brought his fingers to his face to smell. It took just a little more time than before for thought to become action. I was able to wait in that space to see things evolve … I don’t always have that patience … but that particular day I did and so as I look out on the porch now and see the lavender swaying in the evening breeze it brings a smile to me. I did remind him that lavender is edible but that went in one ear and out the other.

Earlier today, as Steve sliced some mushrooms, I asked, “Has anyone ever called you stubborn?” He replied, “Yes.” I had invited him to cut some mushrooms for a creamy mushroom soup. I wanted to make life easier for him and said he only needed to cut the mushroom caps in half since I intended to use an immersion blender at the last stage but … for all the years I’ve known him as he’s cooked with mushrooms he slices them very thin. It has become rote. And so that it was he did today. It took time and effort and I was reminded of a statement from a young exercise buddy who said what he most admired about Steve was that he made the effort. He wouldn’t necessarily be successful but he made the effort and not everyone did that.

Since he’s returned home from most recent hospitalization … and it was a doozy … we’ve managed to binge watch all sorts of programming that other people may have already seen like, uhm, Poldark. I hope we make it to The Gilded Age. We watched the trailer for Dune 3 today and he said he wanted to see that which means we’ll have to rewatch Dune 1 and 2 and I don’t have a problem with that. I shared some things from my workplace about big upcoming events in 2027 and when asked would he like to see some of these events he said yes. Gives us plenty of time for planning. As much as any of us have control over time.

There are many sights I appreciate with Steve making it home once more to heal. Most involve him out of the bed sitting with family for lunch, playing chess with a friend, exercising even when it hurts, and bearing with me when I force, I mean invite, him to sit on the porch with me. I’ve learned to include incentives like mango lassi, chocolate ice cream and so forth. Still on soft foods for the present so I did have to rescue a chocolate bar from his grasp when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I am learning a lot on this journey with Steve. Though somehow I was recently called a legendary patient advocate … all I did was give voice to the fact to what is known that some folks heal better in home environment … I do remind myself that I am not perfect, I am not always patient and it is alright to ask for help. And its okay to treat myself which is why I splurged on a box of butter cookies yesterday. If we make it onto the porch later today I’ll nibble on them while Steve has some strawberry ice cream. Gotta put some healthy fat back on his bones.

As physical therapy ended yesterday, I stood next to Steve in his wheelchair to talk with the therapist. At some point the therapist began to smile. I looked down and saw that Steve was raising his arm to place about my waist. I started to help him and the therapist gently shook his head. Oh, right, I said. Good exercise! And I waited patiently for Steve to tighten his grip. And so it goes …

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What I continually learn on this journey with Steve as a cancer and stroke survivor is the power of meaningful and functional engagement with the world. Do a physical exercise just to do the exercise, no matter how good it is for you? Nope. Need to help do tasks to feed family and friends as you’ve done all your life? Oh heck yeah! Someone was fiercely determined to grate the roma tomatoes for a big batch of no-cook pasta sauce. He gave it a good effort but those tomatoes were tough so out came the knife. Big chunks to toss in the blender along with garlic and celery. Success with the slicing … except, as I turned around, I noticed someone eating the tomatoes and so his sous chef position was temporarily revoked.

Later we did the taste test. I wanted to add salt (I always do) but Steve said, “It’s good as it is.” And so that’s how we served it up for dinner with some items on the side, sliced leftover chicken, sauteed mushrooms and mozzarella cheese.

Go team! 🙂

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