No Time To Die...

 

Death is a shadow cast by all living things, from their moment of creation to their end. Where there is life, death follows. Neither one exists without the other.

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My friend Clyde…

We walked similar paths as English majors, sharing classes and a bit of a social culture clash. Young Northern boys cloistered away in a Methodist college smaller than the High School I graduated from, although still the biggest thing in that little Alabama town, just a few miles South of the Tennessee border.

It was the late 1960’s and the times were changing all around us, but it was still 1955 in downtown Athens, Alabama.

Clyde and I did four years there and then four more in a huge bachelor townhouse on the side of a lake in Reston, Virginia. Crazy fun times, creating memories, stories to tell ourselves and others for the rest of our lives.

I worked at the local newspaper, Clyde started climbing the corporate ladder. He worked the bell stand at a Marriott hotel in downtown Washington, D.C. He brought home fistfuls of cash, recharging nightly as we all did, there at party central.

Adulthood called, we resisted, but all things run their course.

Although he and I occasionally touched base over the following 35 years, it wasn’t until e-mail came along and then Facebook popped up that we truly reconnected.

Clyde had fought his way up in the hospitality business, becoming the President of the Days Inn Hotel chain, a big job that was his passion.

I went in several directions with my career, never really knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up. While Clyde was married to his career, his passion, I was married to Carla, and our family.

They were my passion.

We spoke of our mutual love of good food and his appreciation of fine wine, mine of  vodka, fine or otherwise.

Like many brothers, we may not have spoken on a weekly basis, not even monthly, but we could pick it up anywhere, anytime, unbroken.

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This picture of Clyde and Beth is from a college reunion we had ten years ago. They were telling a funny story about their “children”, twin Carin Terriers. 

She was a bright light, always in motion. Then one night she stayed too long in her ritual bath. Clyde found her there, gone without warning or even a quick goodbye.

Sometimes the shadow is like that. It has the last word.

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Carla and I were supposed to meet Clyde in New Orleans for a three-day celebration of great food and old times. He had lived there and knew every spot that wasn’t on the tourist maps and had much better food than most that were. He was eager to show us around his favorite spots. We agreed to meet sometime in the coming weeks. The ball was in his court to free up the time.

Although I was mildly surprised when he didn’t contact me to set a specific date, I knew he stayed busy and there was plenty of time to get together when he got out from under, so I didn’t pursue it.

Obviously now, I wish I had.

When I finally did hear from Clyde a few months later, it was by way of this e-mail letter he sent out to 29 recipients:

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Dear Friends,

I wanted to give you a heads up on something very personal and ask your assistance.

Some months ago I was diagnosed with early onset of dementia. It has progressed fairly steadily since then. I have had to resign from my consulting assignments some six months ago. And lately my SCORE volunteer work.

I have tried to conceal this (my apologies), I think relatively successfully except to my clients, as long as I could, but I no longer can.

My Mother and her sister both died of dementia/ Alzheimer’s. Having witnessed all of that pain in the end of their lives... and what our families went through over months... years.. I resolved long ago that I would not go down that road; nor would I do that to my family. Lord knows, they have suffered way too much from this disease.

Unfortunately, there is also a significant incidence of depression in our family which is a contributing factor in my case, according to the docs.

And so tonight I have ended my life.

My request of you is that you please inform our mutual friends who are not on this message. I don’t have emails for everyone. I just don’t want friends to think I am ignoring them. There will be no funeral or celebrations, so no urgency.

No regrets... I was blessed with a great, great life: Wonderful family, incredible loves, great friends, exciting career, world travel, fascinating experiences..... all good.

Thank you so much for our friendship and so many wonderful times together.

And I want it ended on that note. And so it shall be.

Love to you all.

Clyde

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I have nothing but respect for my friend’s decision. He had no children. No one could accuse him of being “selfish”. Perhaps the most noble and brave act I’ve witnessed.

As was true with most of his life, Clyde chose to make the end happen on his own terms.

In the end, this isn’t just about my friend, Clyde, of course, it is about all of us.

I’ve managed to dismiss the memory of this whenever it came to me. A year even makes it more... final. It hurts... at least until I remember a few dozen funny “how about the time...” stories I begin to tell him out loud, and he chimes in with punchlines delivered like a perfect nightcap.

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RIP, my friend, hope to see you again...not today though, I'm pretty busy and just can't free up the time.

 

Sunrise Serenade...

 

Our morning walk was windblown, wet & sandy.  Intermittently muddy, we splashed through salty pools nestled in shoals of low-tide mussels, now exposed.

I thought of the black-lip bowl at Ned’s, momentarily lost in memories of chopped garlic and white wine.

The scent of salt flats stirred by new morning breezes chasing their own tails ushered in a dramatic new sunrise, a solar orchestra rising from the pit, instantly wowing an appreciative audience.

Before leaving, we rolled on our backs, squirming with delight atop a skeletal catfish tossed unceremoniously into the high grass next to the car. Our own smells masked, we were energized, rejuvenated and hungry for breakfast, as well as for the new day itself.

Bits of cheap hot dogs, cold from the fridge, torn into toss and catch treats for the girls, a toasted bagel for me. I ripped off a piece of bagel, lobbing it up over my head, just to see if I could catch it in my mouth to show solidarity to the kids. They scrambled for my failed attempt as it bounced off the oriental rug, into an empty shoe.

After bathing the girls in the laundry tub, I even took a shower myself, cognizant of my responsibility to lead by example.

Damp, now smelling of shampoo, they collapsed at the foot of the bed, coma twitching in their squirrel dreams, as I read my book.

Always thankful.

It's the Beach, Bitches!

 

 

Took the dogs to the beach yesterday. Chica’s favorite place. She frantically runs up and down the surf-line, 1,000 miles an hour, clearing out all those nasty sandpipers. Then she goes straight in and enjoys being tossed around by the waves. A happy, wet mutt.

But it was the first visit there for our new dog, Coco.

She stood in the shade of my shadow the whole time and looked at me asking: “What is this sandy, wet nightmare of a place you’ve taken me to and when are we going back home and lie on the couch like normal people?”

I think next time I’ll just take Chica and let Coco stay home.

Coco likes to sit on the couch and watch the Spanish version of “Jeopardy”. Being from Estado Libre y Soberano de Chihuahua in Mexico, she seems to know all the answers.