Kyle with Barack Obama's Grandmother's Cousin

Yes, our dear family friend, Gramma Ruth, is Barack Obama's grandmother's cousin. Ruth grew up in Kansas and there raised her family and our longtime friend Nancy of "Nancy and Dorian Harewood" fame. Our family has spent countless occasions with Gramma Ruth and N & D and their beautiful children Olivia and John. Nancy, Dorian, Olivia, and John campaigned in Iowa and Nevada for Barack, and continue in California. Gramma Ruth taught piano to Miranda and Kyle and many Eagle Rock children and still teaches. As Kyle and Miranda never new their grandparents, Gramma Ruth holds a special place in our hearts.

Who Would Kyle Vote for?

Did you catch Barack's speech last night, following his overwhelming win in South Carolina? Did you know that he writes his own speeches? Talk about "presidential"! Did you hear him do the Top 10 on David Letterman? I'm with Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg. When were you last so inspired?

I can't help but wonder what Kyle would be thinking about Barak Obama, if he had lived. Gearey said that Kyle got a jury summons recently. That means, I think, that he was registered to vote (I was forever nagging him near election time; he was forever not getting it together). Or it just might mean that his getting a driver's license at age 19 had finally, albeit slowly, connected him to the court summons system.

Kyle knew I was excited about Barack Obama. He chided me for making a huge donation to Barack's campaign back in June, not because Kyle didn't like Obama, but because he knew I should be doing all that I could to save for retirement (all those talks I gave him about the importance of my being financially independent, of being able to take care of myself so I wouldn't have to rely on him and Miranda). Kyle was forever urging me to raise my clients' fees, was very conscientious about his and my spending, and would never hesitate to lecture me about an impulsive--but not necessarily wise--expenditure. Though he was known to do it himself, he didn't always approve of me giving dollars to sad looking souls reaching for a handout.

My fondest political memory of Kyle was during Jesse Jackson's second presidential campaign in 1988. We had a big Jackson sign in our front window. One of the Colinco kids across the street was working for Jackson and they had a big sign on their lawn. Kyle was definitely on board for Jackson, although only 4 years old. His limited political acumen became evident when he asked me, "If Jesse Jackson doesn't win, can Michael Jackson?"

I was running late to the Obama fundraiser, because I had had to go to 2 bookstore to find 2 copies of his book, Audacity of Hope. As I checked in at the table, I pleaded for them to accept the books for my children, as they had started refusing to take any more. At the end of the night both books were returned to me, signed. Kyle never saw his, but knew I had it for him.

So how would Kyle feel about Barack's candidacy? Of course, I can't know. I think he would be pleased. I'm even pretty sure he would vote for Barack (if he ever DID register). But I think he would have injected a note of cynicism in any conversation we would have about it. He would have, in his increasingly growing-up young man way, attempted to temper my enthusiasm with some word of warning (such as "Mom, it just won't happen, so don't get your hopes up"). Not because he'd be against Obama, but because he'd be trying to protect his mother, one more time, from her own exuberance and from potential disappointment.

When I watch Barack Obama, this tall, striking, high cheek-boned, handsome, biracial, African-American man, I also see Kyle. And then I think beyond the physical resemblance and I think of this being a country where an African-American man, like my son, could become president. And I have to admit I am impressed. I know there is no true equity among the races and the classes yet, and heaven knows when that will come to pass, but this is not the same country that I grew up in, rarely seeing a black face on television; this is not the country that we chose NOT to travel across in 1975--going instead through Canada--because we were a black and white couple; this is not even the same city in which I had to look for an apartment with a white male friend, because we had been turned down when Gearey and I went together; nor is it the city where Gearey and I and another bi-racial couple were threatened by rednecks.

No, this is not quite the same country. This is my--our--children's country. And our children are coming of age. And they are registering and voting. And it's time for a president they deserve.

I think Kyle would be--coolly and cautiously--excited.

A Letter for My Birthday

This arrived today:

January 2008

To my donor family,

At the beginning of this New Year and after a very meaningful Christmas holiday, I want to convey my sincere gratitude for the gift of life and the promise of tomorrow that you have given me.

I am a sixty year old man and live in San Ramon with my wife of twenty-seven years. I have been in real estate development and facilities management with the same company for twenty years. I enjoy sports, playing golf, cooking and gardening, reading, and going to the beach. We have one son who is married and lives nearby. They are expecting their first child in February. When they announced the news on Father's Day, I prayed that I would live to see my first grandchild born.

I was diagnosed with liver cancer in the spring of 2006 and accepted into the transplant program in September of that year at California Pacific Medical Center in San Francisco. At that time the tumor was two centimeters in size. With constant testing and monitoring throughout the following months, I was moved up on the wait list with the hope of finding a donor before the tumor could spread or grow beyond the acceptable transplant guidelines.

As fate would have it, the phone call came in the afternoon of July 7 when I was notified that a potential donor organ was available for me. I accepted and my surgery was performed in the early hours of July 8 with no complications. My wife has been instrumental in my recovery by taking care of me every step of the way and insuring that my newly transplanted liver succeeds.

I know that my circumstances cannot change your loss but I hope that sharing my story brings you some comfort and peace. My family and I will forever be thankful to you.

God Bless you

It's My Birthday!

as of 4:12 a.m. eastern standard time, i am 59 years old.
the dreaded 59.
mom died at 59 years & 10 months.
when she was 58 she visited scotland (on a cruise, too much fog)
when i was 58 i visited scotland, not knowing she had done at 58.
but i'm not superstitious.
well . . .

so that's why i am on the Nunnery Diet. to live longer than my mom.
and i'm happy to report that i've lost 29.4 pounds.
so i'm looking awfully good for an old broad who still has a passel to go.

as all of you out there know:
one only feels age in the bones and joints and by the short term memory loss.
and, because of my healthy diet, i'm not even feeling any aches and pains.
i'm feeling young and clear headed and wise (enough).
i am surrounded near and far by loved ones: good friends and family.
i receive more love and care than anyone has a right to.
and--although maybe i should--i don't have a lot of regrets.

so. as ky would say, "It's all good."
well, mostly, it's all good.

p.s. and it's my great niece's birthday tomorrow.
HAPPY DAY KIERSTEN ACKER!!!

Marking a Life

[kyle in Paris wearing dreads and anti-flag shirt, june 2004; is this at joan's family's home? this might be joan and her mother? who is taking the photo?]


gearey and i met at Advent Bronze & Granite and saw the marker. it is simple. dignified. tasteful. beautiful. we should go into the marker design business.

it will be delivered to Forest Lawn this week. then in "first come, first served" order, the marker will be placed on kyle's grave in the Abiding Love section. you won't have to search around or visit someone else by mistake any more.

gearey selected the quote, "It is a better thing to travel hopefully than to arrive." and miranda and i agreed wholeheartedly. by robert louis stevenson, my favorite poet as a child. i read child's garden of verses to the kids. last memorial day, when kyle was home, he patiently looked at my slides of Edinburgh, including a couple of the outside of Writers' Museum, where RLS and Sir Walter Scott and Robbie Burns are honored.

i was rummaging in ky's top drawer the other day. (of course i haven't gotten to the point of being able to sort his things yet.) in it were cards from gearey and i, including the ones which each held 1 of 2 pieces of a puzzle which, put together, held a promise of an airline ticket to a destination of kyle's choice. kyle was working hard at saving trip money and looking ahead to his travels.

i came across a letter gearey had sent kyle to one of his San Francisco addresses following kyle's trip to France in June of 2004. gearey posted it from Amsterdam. kyle had held onto it and even had it put away in his drawer. in it gearey wrote, "Taking off to a strange country, with only a passing acquaintance with a couple of people, not speaking a word of the language--all this completely on your own--took more than guts. It also took a deep and sincere desire to get out and experience the world on your own. This is an impulse I can definitely relate to, and I hope its just the first of a lifelong series of adventures. Nothing shapes the way you see the world like traveling through it."

the rest of the letter is equally wonderful. gear writes how proud he is of ky's accomplishments: finishing up his first year at college, finding his first apartment with andrew, getting a job to help support himself. over the next 3 years, kyle and gearey continued to get to know each other grown son to father, young man to man. they were at a good place when ky died.

although short, kyle's life enriched ours beyond measure. twenty two years of being our boy, of giving us love and laughter, of filling us with pride, of teaching us how to be better parents, of showing us what heart truly means.

we think kyle traveled well. won't it be wonderful if we all arrive at the same destination some day.

it's been 6 months

you probably can tell that i've returned to "normal" life again. working 6.5 days a week. so there is never enough time for blogging, which has stopped being a vital necessity, and now gets pushed down lower on the list of Things I Must Do while urgent things rise to the top. it's too bad. i miss it. though i do blog in my head quite a bit. (what used to be thought of as talking to myself.) usually in the car. wishing i could stop, find a little cafe, get a cup of coffee (which i really don't drink), whip out my computer (which i won't have with me), internet-connect away and blog my heart out.

so right now i am indulging myself, procrastinating getting back to work and sneaking a little blog.

things are better. about kyle i mean of course. maybe it's the magic 6 months thing. or maybe there are only so many tears.

i do get stirred up. like a couple of weeks ago dear george came by to visit and download a bunch of ky's music (come one, come all, get up to 9000 tunes personally selected by DJ Ky in the Sky) and then sweet laura came out to dinner with sal, dev, rhea, and me. and then i visited ky's grave and then i got more letters from the organ/tissue donor folk about an event to honor the 2007 donors. and then i had a wonderful phone call from dear vinnie and a marathon phone call from dear stevie (another Boston Children's Theatre alum) whom i'd not visited with in 5 longs years and by the end of the weekend i was exhausted and my reserves were low and i cried easily. but of course that is what my life is about in this phase. less acute pain. more dull pain. loss and love and replenishing and sadness and care and healing.

today i meet gearey at Advent Bronze and Granite to look at Kyle's marker.

Mysterious Ways

Lovely Laura, Kyle's girlfriend, came over last night. She is doing beautifully, having just graduated from the University of San Francisco with a psychology major. She looked wonderful and healthy and was upbeat. It was so comforting to see her doing so well.

Laura had done a remarkably brave thing. She had taken the Caltrain again. THE train from near Santa Cruz headed north. THE train that had stopped for 45 minutes and then, while Kyle was going to fetch them Chinese food, started up again after only 20 to 30 minutes. The train he had tried to climb on. The train he had fallen from.

Laura had gone to the second story (I hadn't realized this was a double decker train) and taken a seat. She sat at the back, as close to the seat she had sat in on July 5th as she could tell. It was not easy.

Obviously, this would have been overwhelming for anyone who had lost her boyfriend in a train accident. But two more things happened to shake her up a bit. The seatback that she faced was covered in graffiti. Writing not that artistic, kind of like Kyle would have done if he'd taken to defacing backs of seats on trains. She looked around at the other seats. No other had writing of any kind.

The she found beneath her seat a bag containing Chinese food, left untouched by a previous passenger. She called her parents.

I'm not going so far as to say that Kyle finally delivered Laura the food he promised but left in a hurry. But hearing about the graffiti and the food did take my breath away.

One more reason I may have to start Atheists for an Afterlife.