Thanks to a recommendation from my good friend Jodi Chase, I had my first Del’s today. Del’s is a delicious frozen lemonade concoction, and it just so happens that I lo-o-ove frozen lemonade concoctions (or frolemcocs, as I call ‘em). The fella at the store showed me how to drink like a native Rhode Islander (hint: throw away the straw and squeeze the cup). When he claimed that a true native also dunks the SuperPretzels, I got a little suspicious, but he kept a straight face so I tried it and… well, it’s not too bad, actually.

Monday, December 22, 2003 – O’Hare International Airport, Chicago, IL

Despite a threat level of Orange, a rush-hour commute, and a vacation travel crunch, I have sailed past the checkpoints and arrived at the closest Starbucks to gate E9 two hours and 30 minutes ahead of takeoff. I would like to have stayed longer with my family at Uncle Eric’s house rather than leaving early to anticipate the delays, but until they invent crystal balls that actually work worth a damn, you pays your money and you takes your chances.

The plane touched down in Chicago just after 11 pm on Saturday. Carry-on only luggage and a swift crew at Avis allowed me to make it from the gate to the house in under an hour. I found Dad, Trish Stefan, Johanna, Claire, Busy, Heather, and Shannon assembling a Mary photo mural. Mary at her wedding, Mary with friends and family, Mary bravely kayaking in 6 inches of water, Mary in her famous pink bathrobe, Mary emaciated and bald from chemotherapy. Mary laughing, smiling, or smirking in all of them; an indomitable spirit.

There was lots of laughter and smiling among all of us as well, as there always seems to be when our families get together. We have always taken joy and comfort in each others’ presence, and it was no different here. I don’t know why I seem to forget this so often, how much I enjoy my family.

On Sunday morning, we cleaned, straightened, and prepared the house for guests. We lingered a bit past our departure time, not really wanting to go to the service. The threat of what we didn’t know loomed, the haunting question of what emotions we would face at acknowledging her passing all together at the same time and place, and how we might respond. We talked on the way, mostly about Johanna’s new job and house. As we approached the chapel, the bare tree limbs and steel gray sky seemed appropriately grim, and the gothic architecture of the University of Chicago added significance to the moment. The chapel was modest, yet elegant. Twenty or so rows of wooden pews supplicated themselves to impressive stained glass windows, and carved wooden angels hovered in the rafters. A harpist played softly as over a hundred mourners filed into the building.

The service was conducted by a Presbyterian pastor who managed to say all the right things and everything well. He read a letter from Carol Topping, one of the Lombards’ longtime friends. He spoke of Mary’s devotion to her family and her commitment to caring for others. (Her last words were to Eric: “Did you eat dinner?”) Sounding almost Buddhist at times, the pastor urged us to recognize that life and death are two sides of the same coin and that the important parts of Mary live on in and around us. He managed a perfect tone of respect and celebration for Mary’s life.

Johanna got up to tell us about a trip she took with her mother to New Orleans. Claire said a few words. I watched the sign language interpreter as the pastor read the closing Navajo prayer, one of Mary’s favorites. It was comforting to be seated there with Trish and my father, in the presence of so many who came to honor my aunt. I’m so grateful to have attended.

Lots of people showed up at the house later for food and drinks. There was laughter and joy as we reminisced and got to know each other better. It was a full expression of love for the family. It was how I would want my wake to be.

It’s Tuesday evening as I finish this. A stubborn bolt on a cargo door delayed our departure from O’Hare. I got home to Seattle three hours later than scheduled, but home safe and sound. I rejoiced in the presence of my roommate, my cat, and my girlfriend. On Thursday morning Louise and I will leave to see our East Coast families for a few days. I’m really looking forward to it.

Louise and I left Seattle at about 4:30 on December 16th, 2003, just in time to hit major traffic. We got to Vancouver at 8:30. Just before we got to the border crossing, my dad called and said that Aunt Mary is very sick and will likely die either Wednesday or Thursday. I’m terribly sad about this, but we’re determined not to let it ruin our trip. There’s nothing to be done. When I can I’ll try to get a flight back for the planned memorial service this weekend.

After we found the Barclay House last night – and we found it to be very charming and cozy – we walked westerly on >Barclay Street to Denman, then headed a bit south to Comax, where we found a funky little restaurant called the Brass Monkey. Louise had a delicious salmon and a tasty glass of red wine. I had the chef’s special pasta and a couple of traditional Canadian beers. A fine meal. Lost my debit card. We walked back to the restaurant. Couldn’t find the card. Left my number. The waitress called a few minutes later; found it! We walked BACK to the restaurant. Got the card. Yay. Avoided a suspicious man on a bicycle on the way back. Relaxed with the fire and soft music.

Had a lovely talk over breakfast with Bruce and Una, a couple of physicians from Edmonton. Went to Vancouver Art Gallery for most of the day to see the Chagall exhibit. Lunched at a wonderful little Italian restaurant right across from the Gallery (we were invited in by the charming proprietor). Back to the Gallery. Back to Barclay House. My aunt died. Dad called and gave me the news. She died at noon with the arms of her family around her. Called Stef. He sounds fine. Everyone seems to be holding up. I’m looking at going to Chicago.

I proposed to Louise tonight. Gave her the ring right before we went to eat. She said yes. My head was swimming. I could hardly get the words “Will you marry me?” out of my mouth. Thank God she said yes, otherwise dinner might have been a little awkward. As it was, we had champagne to celebrate and another meal served in a banana leaf at The Crime Lab, a hip little two-story bistro on Jervis & Pender. Back to the B&B to watch a movie on the PowerBook and fall asleep in each others’ arms in front of the fire that you turn on with a switch.

It’s late. I’m really happy. Being engaged, and all. )

Thursday we got up and had breakfast just the two of us in the dining room. We left our stuff at the house and caught a bus to Granville Island. The market was full of delicious foods, including the Red Snapper Chowder we had for lunch at the Stock Exchange. Browsed for Christmas gifts, but nothing leapt out at us. Took the Aquabus across the water to the bottom of Burrard (?) and walked into downtown. After a quick stop at the Cyber Café in Chapters, we walked to Sophia Books for some foreign language books. Best find of the trip turned out to be there in the form of the Haitian Creole – English, English – Haitian Creole dictionary by Charmant Theodore. We continued to the convention center, then tried to go up in the Harbour Centre tower, but they don’t take debit cards!

It was dark, so we walked back to Barclay House, got our stuff, and drove home.

It’s cold and rainy in Seattle today. The wind was whipping around this morning, rippling Puget Sound like a leaf blower on a puddle. I could see the snow-capped Olympics in the distance. Gosh, it’s beautiful here.

I spent the day with a couple of my current hobbies – IMAP, Blogging, and avoiding work. Still, I managed to get a fair amount done with my grandfather’s files. I have set aside everything related to his actual writing or to marketing of the book. That leaves his research-related files accessible to me. In the not-too-distant future, I’ll take another pass at these, weeding out duplications, re-filing, and mining for research gems. At this point, though, I can focus on finishing Korngold and digging in to some other books so I can get my balance with this Toussaint character.

I’ve been thinking about this blog, too. In trying to explain the reasons behind it to my girlfriend, it became clear to me that I want it to do the following for me:

(1) I want a place to track my progress and let others follow along with the project as well. I’m hoping that this might then impose some outside accountability to keep me on task.
(2) I want a big searchable database of my research and thoughts related to this project.
(3) I want a place to capture other thoughts and musings, and, essentially, to practice writing.

It has occurred to me that anyone just stumbling across this blog might be a bit at sea as to what I’m talking about, so I should plan on writing up a background on the Toussaint project as well as who I am and what I’m all about.

I spent a couple hours sorting through the rest of the cards that I found in one of the boxes my mom sent me from my grandfather’s house. I sent a lot of stuff to my brother, ditched a bunch, and I still have a small boxful.

It was quite the nostalgic adventure to sift through the cards. Most of them were from between 1967 (my birth year) and 1973. Some of the highlights:

> A sheaf of note papers on which my Grandma had written a journal of my week-long visit in Washington DC.
> A bedtime story my dad wrote for me on hotel notepaper.
> Birth announcements for my brother and me. Also congratulatory notes and cards.
> Lots of subtle humor from my Grandpa. I know he just laughed to himself when he wrote to me about the “tit-mouse” he saw in the backyard.
> Postcards from my mom and dad’s trip around the US & Mexico.

For all my desire to lighten my load and throw stuff away, I sure loved having the chance to look through these again.