Homage to Bob

Here's a letter My Sister, Hannah, Mother and I wrote to those in our family who could not make my Uncle Bob's memorial service, which took place in Portland, Oregon.

Greetings McSweeny Diaspora,

We missed all of you at our small but heartfelt reunion last weekend, and wanted to catch you up on the some of the highlights of our time together.

The McForce gathered at the Homewood Suites in Beaverton--where the suites were sweet and the fires were burning. The cozy atmosphere allowed for the clan to gather, disperse and regather whether in the dining room, the library area or the workout room where Hannah first ran into Sheila and Jim--naturally--where else would you meet them?




After an ample Saturday morning brunch (see Figure 1), we met several hours later at St. John the Baptist Episcopal Church, high up in the hills of Portland. Set in a green glade, the surroundings made a perfect place to say Goodbye to Bob. Bare trees and conifers surrounded the church as geese flew overhead in V formation.



Shortly into the proceedings, we discovered that Bob had crafted every aspect of a "no holds a barred" requiem service. Led by a priest, who was an old friend of Bob's who'd come out of retirement for the occasion, included was a full honor guard by the military and a presentation of the flag to Jean.

Rob and Mike both gave readings from the Bible, Rob from Psalm 107 (Some went down to the sea in ships...) and Mike from Romans (All who are led by the spirit of God are children of God...). A good friend of Bob's got up and gave a moving eulogy about his work in the non-profits. It amazed us to hear of the abundance of good that Bob had done. It turned out that until the day before his death, he continued to provide legal services to the non-profits that he supported.



The service closed with a gorgeous and, per Bob, "jazzy" rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Tears came to our eyes and we all filed out into the cold, bright day and down into the small and intimate church garden. There, a hole had been dug beside a yellow rose bush and as the priest spoke, he seemed to almost throw the bag of ashes in the hole. Jean, Mike, Rob, Alex and Rowan (Rob's sons) picked up the shovel and each in turn, threw a spadeful of earth into the ground.



Looking up we saw the sun peeking out of a cloud and a flock of geese flew overhead as we made our way back into the church for a mountain of snickerdoodles and chocolate chip cookies baked by Mike. Circling around, people reminisced about their times with Bob. It was such a tribute to him that people from all walks of life had come to say goodbye; friends, neighbors, colleagues, people who had benefitted from his good works. All were there, singing his praises.

It was here that the clan parted ways. Some went to a good old fashioned Irish wake and others chose to honor Bob with margaritas, salsa and all the trimmings.



To cap it all off, we met once more on Sunday for brunch at Jean's. Mimosas, strata, coffeecake and Mike's island punch were savored as we continued to reminisce, hover over Bob and Jean's wedding pictures and stitch together the memories that all of us had carried.



We wish you could have been there--we hope this gives you a small taste of our time together--we know you were there in spirit.

     A lot can happen in a year. A lot did happen in the last year and a half. I left my job with the Military ICU, dipped my toes in the Cardiac ICU at UC Davis, worked as a registry nurse in hospitals all over the Napa and Sacramento Valleys and next week, I'll settle into working full time at a hospital surgery center in Sacramento. No more nights, no more weekends, no more holidays. I need to pinch myself. So many lessons learned along the way, so many more to learn, but glad I can start to put down a few roots. I'm just going to take it all in in "Little Bytz."

      I'm back in Hawai'i between the worlds of the migrating and nesting nurse. It's always a place to gather my thoughts, rest my soul and build up strength for whatever might come my way in the coming year. Because a lot can happen in a year, in a moment. Above, a rainbow shot I took this morning when I was doing my sit-ups. I happened to look out the window and saw the rainbow. I hobbled out as fast as my broken ankle would allow and snapped the photo with my iphone.

      Five minutes later, the rainbow was gone. In nature, just like in life, a lot can happen in  a moment, let alone a year.

Got Color?

Bees on neigbor's rose

When I said I was going to move to California, everyone said I would miss the fall colors (yeah, but I sure wouldn't miss the fall cold!).  Yes, I would miss the fall colors.

One of the hospital registration clerks where I worked in Wisconsin had taken a stunning photographic montage of trees in full fall color.  When I think of Midwest fall color, that montage comes to mind.

Japanese Elm in the morning light

Imagine, then, my surprise when a week ago I started noticing FALL COLOR all along I-80 of all places. I also learned that not only are there Pistachio trees but Pistache trees. Pistache trees turn a bright pink or flaming red in the fall. To say nothing of the Japanese Elms, Aspens, Ginkgos, Tulip Trees, Maples and Birches.  Roses, yes roses, are still blooming hell bent for leather. Cyclamen are popping up all over the place--I've just plopped a bunch in the ground myself today. And Primrose season is upon us.

The difficulty of my job is that I work 12 hour shifts-3 days on, 2 days off. This work cycle repeats itself ad infinitum. So what with moving again, and getting ready for my Mom to move in, I haven't had much time to enjoy the autumn colors. With this in mind, I decided on my day off this week to capture the color for myself and you, my bloggites. Heading down I-80, I pulled over and snapped some photos of fall color to show you the beauty of our California autumn.

Fall is the season in which I begin to struggle to maintain an even keel--a long-day person heading toward the short days of winter--a season that's dark, damp and cold. Despite its beauty, I've always seen fall as the "gateway drug" to winter which, in the Midwest, is unreasonably long.  As someone addicted to light, I'm already looking for Christmas lights to string up around the windows for winter spark.  Thanks to my dear friend Kari, I have a Happy Light that I use to brighten up the morning. And, more for the light than the season, I'm just about to put up the Christmas Tree--one that's prestrung with all sorts of multi-colored lights.  As I write this, the first tones of Silent night are filtering through the stereo thanks to my niece, Lizzie.

But enough about the future! For now, I'm going out to enjoy all the fall color!

I-80 Fall Finery

It's Fall, It's Pomegranate Season!

Rose from my garden

Back in Wisconsin, I dreaded fall, because while fall is absolutely stunning with its oranges, reds, golds and browns dressing the trees and then raining from the sky, once the leaves come down, cold descends like a blanket for the next 6 months. Cold stifles breath, thought, movement. The cold was so overwhelming and long-lasting that it was hard to enjoy fall's finery for the depression brought on by the shorter, colder days. 

Lunch-time pomegranate

Here, there are flowers, fruit and fall color. The temperatures won't go below 28 and that, to me, is amazing.  In January, that's bikini weather in  Wisconsin.  My sister surprised me with the season's first pomegranates last Saturday at the Davis Farmer's Market.  Aside from the citrus family, which one can pluck from trees here, pomegranates have to rank as the fruits of the Gods.  I made quick work of one pomegranate for lunch.

Fall brings with it lots of yard work, and until I moved up to Davis from Fairfield a month ago, I had been able to avoid all forms of manual outdoor work since moving out here in February.  Not so now. On Wednesday--the first day of the blog class, it was slated to rain in the afternoon, so I had to rush and get the 6 bags of soil amenders on top of the hard-pack in my 2 raised beds.

In theory it was soil. According to my new landlords (more on them later--they're amazing), it was clay.  I did manage to load the bags from my truck (the aloha-mobile) on to the beds and then turn over the beds thanks to the rain holding off.  In fact, the rains held off long enough for the San Francisco Giants to win the first game of the World Series. Imagine that.

So today is the last day of my vacation, which I have spent putzing around the hale (Hawaiian for "home"); I work over the Halloween weekend and that should prove interesting and quite busy, for while the young'uns are out trick or treating, the old 'uns are out trick and mayheming and making our lives interesting.  Have a Happy Halloween.  Here is my cat Gizmo, here to say that not all black cats are scary.

Have a Purrrrfect Halloween

Why Blog It?

Rose in bud at a foreclosed home

 Originally, I began this as a way to keep in touch with friends and family spread out around the globe. I knew they would want to know how things were going with my new life in California. I grew up in a family of teachers and writers, so as a nurse, starting a blog makes me feel a bit like a bull in a china shop.

Madison, eat your heart out, no more $4 peppers!

 I'd heard about the blog class from my sister, Hannah Klaus Hunter who has a gorgeous site and took the blog class before me. So filled with the possibilities and the commitment to building a more vibrant blog, I signed up for a 4-week blog class with Cynthia Morris and Alyson Stanfield.


Today’s assignment is to describe my ideal blog visitors and readers.  Frankly, if I get just a few "frequent flyers," as we call them in the ICU, I will be happy.  My ideal reader is someone who is working full-time and pursuing art on a part-time or side basis. Perhaps starting life anew and healing after a difficult life event.  I've relocated from Madison, WI to the far west and my blog is a means of using photography, art and writing to reflect on what I've experienced and what I'm discovering in California to forge a new and better life.


So Happy Halloween and when I was out walking, what should I see, but a plastic flamingo--not an unusual site in Madison, where the pink flamingo rules since the Pail and Shovel Party put thousands of them on Bascom Hill at UW Madison in 1981. But in my neck o' the woods we keep 'em pink and dress 'em up for each holiday. Here, they look like they've just come out of the CAT Scanner!

I'm Radioactive!

Blogging is Good for You/A Rare Day Off

"Taking time to write a blog can be time consuming but it is worth it in the long run." That was my sister, Hannah. The original title of this post was supposed to be "A Rare Day Off." But in learning how to insert photos (never mind how to do photo/text wrap arounds), I've frittered away a good hour now futzing with it. And now why does Hannah keep asking me why I don't blog more?!

Kitty in the Hale (Home)

As a nurse, I work 12-hour shifts too many times per week and since it was going to be in the 90s, I decided I would enjoy the nice warm weather (my favorite kind) by being lazy, plus I didn't feel so good and I was exhausted from work. So I went for my morning walk, started the laundry, took out the trash, started watering the new oleanders, fed the felines, fed me and then crawled back under the crisp, clean sheets.  I woke up to the dulcet tones of Hannah's ringtone.  I looked down to see Faith, my kitten (pictured above) luxuriating in the bed spread. Lunch calls. No suffering, the sky is blue and par Davis, it is absolutely gorgeous out. 

Operation Fig Rescue

Lunch finds us sitting on Hannah's porch just a few blocks away, musing about our travel bucket list. But I was sitting there the whole time just enjoying the warm weather wash over me, thinking that it was so pleasant right there on the porch eating left overs, knowing the beach and the mountains were just 2 hours away whenever I needed them.  Much more important was to rescue the remaining figs off of her tree. Home-made fig dressing on the hoof. So up the ladder I went, higher and higher to pluck the waiting fruit from their boughs.  I'm salivating as I'm typing. There are rumours of pesto and fig dressing drenched salad tonight with rotissierie chicken.  I love my days off.

License to Escape, Part 2

As you've noticed, I'm not like most bloggers, slavishly writing on a daily basis. I was dragged into the blogosphere kicking and screaming. A lot of people wanted to know, repeatedly, what it was like to not only go through divorce (my husband had a long affair with one of my best friends) but then move from my home of 25 years in Wisconsin to California.

So these odd thoughts of moving and change swirl through my head as the woman behind the counter hands me the written test (What?! I have to take a test? I don't just get the license?) and tells me I can only miss 6 out of 50. Oh dear. I take the test and of course I miss 6 and of course it's just before 5 p.m. Yuck, I'll have to come back tomorrow. The nice woman behind the counter hands me a book and says, "Here's your homework for tonight, study up and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Didn't you study?" Hannah said when I tell her that I flunked. Of course I didn't study. Who studies for a driving test at my age, for goodness sake?! That's for first timers. Besides, I didn't really believe I'd have to take a test. So, now I studied, went back, retook the test and only missed 5. Whew. At first I was excited to hand over my Wisconsin Drivers License. Then, I looked at it while she processed my test results. I felt like I was turning in 25 years of my past, my friendships, my good years, my bad. I still have yet to figure out how to stay connected with the good parts of the Midwest and leave the rest behind. In the end, she just punched a hole in my old license, handed me a piece of paper and told me this was my temp until the real thing came in the mail. After all that---they mail you the driver's license?! So much for instant gratification. At least I know the picture is half-way decent. Aloha.

License to Escape

Sure, the idea of escaping to the nice warm climate of California after your marriage dissolves sounds good, but really, the paperwork is hell. For once you settle in, the State of California wants you to chip in and pay your fair share (especially since they have major fault lines in their budget). So today, I braved the air-conditioning and went to the DMV to get my California driver's license and register the truck. Now, back in the Midwest, a birth certificate was all you needed for a driver's license. Here, they get personal. "We need a chain of names," the man behind the counter said. Maiden, Married, Post-Divorce. I panicked. I distinctly remembered putting the marriage certificate, with all its fancy filigree and calligraphy, through the shredder. If my husband couldn't be faithful and didn't even want to rescue the marriage, why keep the piece of paper? "Well," I said " I don't have my marriage certificate any more, I didn't think I'd need it so I shredded it." So the nice young man launched into another explanation of the chain of names and how I'd have to contact the state of Illinois to get my marriage license (I would rather drop the whole idea and keep my Wisconsin driver's license until it expired in 2014). I could feel my heart rate speed up to about 120, my face flush and my head pound. This is getting way too complicated. All I wanted was a stupid driver's license. Why does everything in my life have to be so hard? So, I search desperately through my folder. Birth certificate, check. Name change Wuellner to McSweeny, check. Oh-My-God, there it IS, the administrative photocopy of my Godforsaken marriage certificate. Proof that 23 years of my life may have been spent in vain in the frozen tundra of Wisconsin. I have now completed step one of Lord knows how many to earning my California Driver's License. To be continued...

Posted by Amelia's Adventures in Sunny Cal at 7:43 PM 0 comments