My Grandfather's Clock

The whirligig of life spins faster than ever, it would seem these days, but what do I know? As the echo of “Not much” is still reverberating in the air, what I do know as I straddle the wire stretched out across the great divide, is that these past couple of weeks have stormed through with a great deal of power and fury, mixed with sadness, joy and poignancy.

For an old guy whose existence is affected daily by what is happening with Gluten-Free Mama and her ongoing battle(s) with kidney cancer and thyroid cancer, the rest is just laying it on thick. Besides, as anyone who has any experience with cancer knows, the biggest challenge is dealing with side effects.

Meanwhile, couple of weeks ago I was stunned to learn of the passing of a dear high school friend, Joanie Wiederholt, a member of my own inner circle, and an individual with whom I had reconnected on social media, a half-dozen years ago. 

Joanie was effervescent, compassionate and the most devoted and loyal supporter of the students and faculty of our alma mater, Bishop Amat, that I have ever been witness to. The number of loving and devastated posts over her passing, was truly inspirational.

Though I have not been in the same place as Joanie for more than 25 years, she will remain in my thoughts forever, when SoCal and my old high school come up for discussion. 

On the flip side, GF Mama and I welcomed our first grand-baby into the world, Ollie Mac, son of SmallBoy and Dancing Girl. To know what this means to GF Mama, is to be acquainted with the essence of her soul. She has longed for the opportunity to greet and hold a grandchild for an eternity now, and the smile on her face resonates like a choir of angels singing, and would taste like a hot fudge sundae, if that were possible.

The added thrill of having our grandchild up here on the mountain, on-farm, makes the whirligig pick up speed. 

That being said, we were forced to slam on the brakes, as we learned of the passing of the daughter of our sister-in-law, Sandi. Though I was not close to her, I feel awful for Sandi and bro Timmy, who are not only trying to cope with the loss of a beloved daughter, they are contending at the moment with their four-year-old granddaughter, who has just lost a mom. How do you make that pain go away?

On the plus side it is the middle of April; on the down side, it has been snowing off and on since yesterday, and is forecast to do more next week. Snow has been part of the weather pattern all through March and now into April. My tomato starts, have not. My compost pile is only halfway turned and I have not begun turning the soil over for my tomatoes, out in the orchard. 

Transforming lemons into gimlets, however, I have made good use of the inclement weather to complete the remodeling of the laundry room. This entailed constructing nine cupboards, one laundry soap shelf and one recycling/waste basket platform.

I have followed this great success up with the assembly of a second wooden quilt, this one entitled Barn Raising. It is the classic Virgoan task, requiring organization, attention to detail and a great deal of time. I have put out an all-points bulletin for the right side of my brain, which has been running amok all winter, but I don’t really care if it turns up. 

I like the home improvements.

Moving [compost] mountains; shouldering pain; cradling newborns; burying loved ones; creating beauty; emptying pee buckets; working the soil; maintaining one’s footing on the ice-there is a lot to balance these tumultuous days. 

I have fastened my seatbelt, including shoulder harness, and I have donned my helmet, and there is nothing I can do but ride it out, until the runaway trolley starts to slow down, and eventually stops. Right?

[Editor’s note:

“Oh, my grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf, 

so it lived ninety years on the floor. 

It was taller by half than the old man himself, 

though it weighed not a pennyweight more.

It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born, 

and was always his treasure and pride. 

But it stopped short, never to go again, 

when the old man died.”]

Oh.