"Letters to Miss Emily..."

[backhoe]

I'm going to ask the indulgence of our gracious hosts, and start this ( And I swear I'll send something during the next fundraiser, even if I have scrimp by hand rolling smokes... ) thread.

Don't know if it's a good idea, do not know if I can sustain it-- but I will try to now devote this:

http://www.freedominion.com.pa/phpBB2/v ... p?t=132035
Miss Emily has died

...to stuff about her, our lives together, any essays and photos I find, and make this like I'm writing her each day until we meet again.

"For the Duration..."

It begins with pickups from page 37 of her post:

http://www.freedominion.com.pa/phpBB2/v ... &start=540

I had thought-- thought really hard-- about starting a standalone post

"Letters to Miss Emily..."

About all the things she has missed, since She Flew To The Sun
( or "moved on," or "went away," or "died on me..."

But...

there's so much to tell, I wouldn't know where to start.

I miss you, Emmy...

And I grieve when I'm not "OK."

I'm "OK" most of the time,

...but when I'm not, I hurt so bad that I'd really like to lie down with my babies- what's left of them- and go to sleep forever and go back, into the dreaming, and never wake up again...

There's a little more- just snippet of a life, interrupted-- here:

http://tinyurl.com/25x2ql4

And:

"Letters to Miss Emily..."

Drive's cloned, hooks are sunk into structural members of the new garage & old carriage house, awaiting a line. Will clip one end and put a pulley & weights on the other to keep it taut-- remember how that old line sagged?

Your spice garden is going to ruin, hon-- damifIknow what it needs. I told Chris when he came by to tell his Mom she's welcome to take what she wants, or take clippings from any of your ornamentals.

I still run into people we knew who don't know you're dead... and it's just as hard this time as it was last time.

Cole still lies in the middle of where your beloved pool was, thinking & dreaming-- I don't know what. He's quit looking behind me when I come home, and I don't if that's better or worse, for him and for me.

Miss Cherry's family seems to be enjoying your pool as much as you did-- I think I did right, and I hope you understand. I kept seeing you shuddering with joy as you sank down in it that last day, and I kept feeling that's when I lost you.

Irrational, I know, but I couldn't shake that feeling.

I've thought of many ways to shave expenses- it won't solve the problems we were facing in the long run, but it may buy me some more time. Dear heart, we were spending about $510 a month on smokes for you- that alone will help, but it sure was a hard way to kick the habit...

I'm going to splurge and get cordless clippers for Zoey-- the cord on those "quiet motor" clippers I got spooks her a little, and there are so few places to plug in to in this old pile of yours...

Besides, I could use them in the yard, and the birdies you loved so would like her wool for their nests.

The baby blue jays are still squalling, and how I wish I had gotten my monocular for you on that last day to see them better. You were so blind, baby.

Gotta run, babes-- I've got miles to go, like I did when you were with me- I might take your car, since it hasn't moved in a month except to make room for people at your service June 22. That seems so long ago... yet so recent...

I'm OK. Except when I'm not.

I love you
johnny

<img src="http://images8.fotki.com/v159/photos/2/292835/1608389/alcheshire_catvi-vi.gif">

[backhoe]

Miss Cherry & Chris came over while she was on lunch break and I gave her your two ripe tomatoes-- you'd have been proud of them-- and she wants some of your plants.

I'll try to get her to take some of your spice & vegetable garden, too-- you were so proud of them, and your diet, but I didn't know what to do with them, and they are looking kind of puny.

I just cleared the freezer of all those vegetables you loved- it hurt, but they were crowding and loading the unit, and I'll never eat them.

Nothing dire in the mail, but I just realized all those catalogs you loved so need to be marked "deceased-return to sender." Damn it. So I did, and will drop them in a box when I go for ice.

Yes, I'm keeping up the ritual you loved so-- because it reminded you of being at Honey Creek, dipping chipped ice from the ice machine.

But it is a buck and a half a day, and with room in the freezer, I could make what little I use. You loved those many glasses of ice water, didn't you?

I hung the clothesline, but like a fool forgot to get clothespins and a bag for them. Next trip, I guess. It needs adjusting-- the chain & pulley make a vector so it's low at one end.

And I hope The Old Goat ( Zoey ) appreciates those damned cordless clippers-- $45 and they have to charge 24 hours to boot.

I decided to put in abeyance, for now, the idea of internet-only cable to save money-- the dogs like it, a few of the channels are OK with me, and I realized with you "gone elsewhere" there's at least $100 a month worth of medicine I won't need to buy anymore.

Looking thru your chest in the middle room upstairs last evening ( trying to find you Dad's middle name, so I could cancel your Carbonite backup ) I found a lot of stuff I'd never seen, or had forgotten about.

There's even a hand-written essay about your days as a corporate spy for the Bishop of Georgia.

I don't know if it's appropriate to post it, or whether it belongs here-- more likely, on your post. I will think on these things a bit.

It's so bizarre having you gone. I really thought with my being a decade older, smoking, not exercising heavily like I used to, that I'd go first, for sure. I hear noises, and think it's you stirring around.

I've gone out for dinner very little-- I hate telling yet another group who knew us, "your story." I'm really burned out.

I'll get to the legal stuff directly, I'm just too beat to do it right away. But soon.

I miss you, kid.

Signing off for a while now,
johnny
stuck on this old ball of dirt
without you...

[backhoe]

Dear Heart, I just added up what we were paying for ice at Twice the Ice.

And you know I loved giving you such simple pleasures, and I sure wish I were still doing it...

$547... and 50 cents per year.

I just got the ice trays off the back porch, and cleaned and filled them.

[backhoe]

Sweetie, I fed the dogs ( and myself ) and ran them- it's hotter than blazes here.

I think back to me & Taffy building the generator so you wouldn't burn up if the power fails, and I'm remembering times like that fondly- but it still hurts, too.

Remember that time we had so much trouble with Bell South that we wrote the Utilities Commission in Atlanta, and they lit a fire under Ma Bell? Then that day you came home from work, hotter that a $2 pistol, and the power went out? ( This being before the generator ) And with no A/C the house started getting hot, I called the power company, and they zoomed right out and restored power?

We both concluded they had heard about us from the other utility guys...

If was fun, honey. So were you.

I knocked the bejabbers out of my small right toe this morning in the half-light-- kicked old Zoey ramp real good. Don't think it's broken, but it's sure purple.

I'm trying to keep this sort of light ( " 'til we meet, again... ) and I'll try jotting notes so I can condense it into one post a day, to avoid taxing our hosts hospitality ) but when I ran the dogs, I noticed the fan upstairs wasn't on, so I went up.

First thing I noticed was That Picture-- you with an afro, me a mustache, the one we thought the church was doing for free-- until we got the bill. Boy, were we pissed...
Your Mom has a copy where she could look at it while watching TV, and I took the back off a while back.

No date, but I didn't wear a 'stache when I had the wrecker service, so it must have been before 1991. God, we were babies then.

Cutie, I passed that footlocker I looked in yesterday-- you had so much more to do, so much to give... I just don't understand it at all.

Got the fan running and went back down those long & winding stairs, to our ( really, they were yours ) furry dependents.

But they love me-- I'm just not The Main Dog. At least, not yet.

That trim saw I bought second hand, when we planning so much work a couple of years ago, finally died-- the power pack won't charge. $39, as I recall-- I'll have to hunt a battery pack, since it is so handy.

I've probably forgotten a ton of stuff-- you always wanted a "report" every time I came home, and it was fun recounting my adventures on the road and at the stores. You were a good audience.

I'd better close- we go to bed with the Sun, which is getting later, but I have to shut things down, roll up shades, lock up, and all that.

I was another "glorious day!" Just wish you were still with us to share and live it.

I love you
johnny

[Connie Fournier]

We all love you, backhoe. Feel free to write everything you want to say. And, know we are here for you.

[JurisNaturalist]

Connie's right Backhoe. We are here for you. Everyday I read your posts to my husband - and I cry -then we pray that God will provide the comfort you need.

[backhoe]

“Marty Meuschke likes this. “

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id= ... 6729714867

Thank you, Marty-- I don't know if I can sustain it, or even write about it-- all I can do is try.

At some point, “Miss Emily has Died...” will die, too. Even tho this old house is full of her, her photos and essays and things that she loved-- at some point, it will be no more. There will be nothing more to add... She won't be writing or photographing or wood turning or gardening or swimming or working or playing anymore, ever... never.. not ever, anymore...

She's gone.

Forever.

“To the Sea...”

There was a gawdawful crash outside the house a little while ago, and after making sure the DogPack was OK, I looked around-- no trees down, no damage to the house or yard-- but lots of flashing lights on the road... sure enough, a car crash, with wreckers dragging the carcasses off the road.

Used to do that work, and loved it despite the dangers and aggravations-- but I'm just too damn old to do it, anymore.

If I could turn the clock back, to a happier time, things would be better.

But I can't do that.

I'll go, until I can go no more.

I'll “drive!” until there's no place left to drive to...

And when I can't, don't throw me into a box to rot-- burn me up, and if The Master Coder can't put me back together at The End Of Time?

That will be all right, too...

-30-<P><HR><P>
Just an old Keyboard Cowboy...gating back out, into <a href="http://www.webopedia.com/TERM/c/cyberspace.html">Cyberspace</a> and the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dreamtime">Dreamtime</a>
<br>
<img src="http://b.tinyurl.com/yatmxq"><P><center>-30-</center><P>

[backhoe]

Honey, I jammed my toe yesterday- on Zoey's ramp, in the half dark of morning, and it hurts like a son of a bitch-- I don't *think* it's broken, but it sure turned purple.

Kind of like you were, when I found you, dead...

I put that hot pepper stuff on it, and I was able to walk yesterday and do what I needed to do-- but it sure hurt.

Kind of like "missing you..."

I got all excited yesterday-- I remembered where you put that first laptop of yours...

Remember? You had had PDA's and they helped you a lot with work-- you'd come home, stick your PDA in the "dock" at "our" PC in the kitchen, and there was everything you had been working on at work. So you worked some more, off the clock.

You sure gave Honey Creek your all.

And they gave you?

What?

Didn't even get a gold watch- but I guess "that's life..."

I remember how we shopped around for that first laptop, the trips to stores, the web searches- the agonizing, because they cost so much, compared to your salary--

You were the second-highest paid at Honey Creek, yet nearly all that went to paying household expenses around here, so it was big purchase.

You picked a Dell- because of the warranty and service-- and paid a thousand dollars for it-- a huge chunk of money, for us.

Waited for UPS, tracked it every day-- and it finally came.

The box is still in the garage...

And it helped you, with work and at home, and you carried it everywhere.

And when it died, panic ensued, and we hauled it to Network Monkeys, and Jason, the teenage "laptop expert" concluded ( after a week when you drove me nuts asking "when's my computer going to get fixed!???" )

"Cost more to fix it than buy a new one... here's a refurbished Compaq for less money..."

So we bought it, and you loved it and carried it everywhere- until it died at convention last year, and I saved the day by buying that Acer netbook you loved so much... the one I can't see or use very well because it's so tiny...

Well, after a lot of thinking- always a hazardous activity-- I remembered where you put the Dell's carcass- in that Chinese chest from Helen's house-- you know, the one that used to hold my music, back when I still had the heart to play-- so I pulled it out, and pulled the hard drive...

Lots of files starting at 2006-- when, I guess, you bought the Dell.

But your personal folders were empty... I guess you, or Jason, migrated them to the Compaq.

I guess I could drop to DOS and “undelete” them... but I stuck the drive with the others from your other computers, and there it sits, with the Universal USB drive adaptor, the books I read in the yard with Taffy, when she was dying, old magazine articles I wrote and got paid for ( “perfessional writer, here... “), a few pratice grenades, the clock my Dad built for my first marriage, and a bunch of other junk, in the hall...

“...and I straighten
Miss Emily's Picture
on the Wall...”

I still love you
johnny...

[backhoe]

We all love you, backhoe. Feel free to write everything you want to say. And, know we are here for you.

Connie, I greatly appreciate that- I really don't know what to do.

A very long time ago, my parents-- both of them, as flawed as any human beings ever are, but as good a pair of people as I have ever known, and "gone, forever," like the house we lived in, or Miss Emily, or Hellion, that Fiery First Wife-- taught me how transient, and ephemeral, and fleeting life is.

How the baubles and the shiny things-- money and fame, furs and diamonds, accolades and praise-- are foolish, fleeting things...

The only thing of value is your family, and perhaps a few friends-- altho they too, come and go.

I learned all that a very long time ago, and yet God... or the Master Coder... or The First Cause-- seems to keep whacking me over the head with that first lesson, and I... am just baffled.

I want to shout to the Heavens,

"Hey! You! Up There? I learned it the first time around-- you aren't teaching me anything new. I got it, the first time..."

Or maybe I missed something, and that's why The Big Guy keeps whacking me over the head with the Same Old Stuff.

But it just hurts-- kind of like my damn little toe. Can't believe I walked out in the half-dark, and kicked a ramp I built and know where it is...

There's another "broken toe story" in that-- when Emily & I were moving out of Riverside ( yeah, that 'prestigious subdivision on a private Island'-- the one she couldn't stand? ) she moved one of her power amps-- yes, she was considered a "classical," or church, musician, but she could rock with the best of them, and had loads of electronic equipment-- into the path I usually walked in the dark...

I kicked the little son of a bitch as I made my way thru the family room that was her studio there, and it, being mostly iron and copper windings, didn't move much...

Broke the Hell out of my big right toe. Sucker still aches-- like a fool, I didn't have a doctor set it-- we were too busy moving.

Damn thing still hurts, 27 years later,

Kind of like loosing that first wife does... or loosing Miss Emily will...

"johnny still loves you... both..."

[backhoe]

Connie's right Backhoe. We are here for you. Everyday I read your posts to my husband - and I cry -then we pray that God will provide the comfort you need.

I thank you.

I have to wonder about that "God" fellow. On the other post, you probably read about my new "religious experience?"

Well, That Damn Truck did indeed move... but it came back, and then, it moved away.

Several times.

I don't really think God, His Own Sef' is moving That Damn Truck...

I think it's Miss Emily, displaying once again, even dead, that nasty sense of humor she had... the only thing missing is a few pirate-like cuss words...

"...and I straighten
Miss Emily's Picture
on the Wall..."

[backhoe]

We all love you, backhoe. Feel free to write everything you want to say. And, know we are here for you.

Well, since I have our Hostess's kind permission, I'll tell you the Tale of Miss Emily and Electric Razors ( and any other powered tool or device... )

When I was younger and my eyes keener, and my hands steadier, I shaved with a straight razor- yep, cold steel, strop coarse, strop keen, steam the face, work lather in with a brush, and then shave, very, very carefully...
( And the story of how I went back, to that now-razed house I grew up in, and found two lines of rust, where my razors had been left, is in Emily's post, somewhere... )

Those razors were great for answering the door- who wants to argue, or talk much, to a big guy with cold sharp steel in one hand?

But time passed, I moved away, and when I wasn't wearing a beard, I used safety razors. The new three & four blade razors shave really close, and for a while the cartridges lasted a month or so if you took care of them, but in the last year I noticed they were wearing out faster and faster- guess the makers had finally figured out that “planned obsolescence” thing.

I remembered how my Dad always used electric razors-- his old face was so lined and craggy a blade of any kind was out of the question-- and started looking around.

Sure enough, Wally-World had Norelcos on sale for twenty-something bucks, so I bought one.

Liked it well-- it didn't cut quite as close as a blade, but you can redo a shave quickly in the afternoon to get rid of five O'clock shadow with an electric razor...

Well, Miss Emily looked at the thing, tried it, and liked it so well ( she always drew blood, shaving with any kind of bladed thing... ) she asked me to get her her own electric razor.

Target is the only other real competitor here to Wal-Mart, and I occasionally shop there-- sure enough, they had a different brand at about the same price, so I got it for her.

She loved it, and our razors used to sit side by side in the bath... there was just one little problem...

The heads kept falling off her razor.

For whatever reason. Miss Emily was Death Itself to any kind of powered device.

Despite dexterity that I could never match, only envy, when she laid hands on anything besides a musical instrument, she broke it.

The vacuum cleaner? Last time she tried to run it, the wheels came off. I fixed it, but damnifIknow how she managed to do that- I couldn't get the wheels to come off, not even pulling hard on them.

Her razor? I tried shaving with it, and I never could get the heads- all three of them-- to fall off.

She? “Did it every time...”

My razor?

Sits by itself, now...

[backhoe]

I'm going to do something very difficult for me-- besides the annoyances of computers and digital cameras and software.

I finally took a picture and got it uploaded to the web- I call it "dead hands..."

<img src="http://tinyurl.com/2ebfg6s" height="232" width="313">

Yep, that's the kitchen breakfast table, and yep, that's Miss Emily's picture by the palm tree with the porcelain light socket...

And the bag of Bugler, and trays of bills and notes about HTML and passwords and such...

And the writing tablets and pens and EFM badges she put there, after the June 3-5 conference at Honey Creek. Where her dead hands left them.

Yes, I'm going to move them today.

Where, I don't know. Her studio, I guess-- it will mean something, only to me.

Like so much she left. Like the EFM folders still on the stairs, with "Emily" on them, where she left them, Emily-like to take up, later.

A "later" that never came for her.

All that meant so much to her...

I guess I'll put them together, and take them up, and lay them somewhere where I can see them, like the cell phone holder I moved up there because it just screamed "Emily!" at me...

"Letters to Emily..."

Honey?
I sure miss you...
johnny loves you...

[backhoe]

Once more, with <I>feeling...</i>

Well Cutie, I'm in for noon to cool off for a while- me and your Golden Fella trimmed some bushes and trees in the front so we can see out a little better.

I set the thermostat 'way down on the electric water heater- still wish we had installed a gas unit when we fixed up the house in '87-- and I still kinda wish we'd converted to a gas stove like we talked about back then-- they run cooler.

Geez, it's hot here.

I keep forgetting to turn off the lights in bath and kitchen, but I'm learning.

Paid the water bill- it wasn't obscenely higher despite the extra we used for lawn and plants, so I'm OK with that situation.

I want to see if your Mom's old place has a small table to put on the front porch, so I can get out in the fresh ( albeit hot ) air and sun to go thru your convention stuff that is still in the hallway. It's very sad, sitting there.

I finally decided to go thru that box in the garage that has been sitting where you put it three years ago, when you left Honey Creek...

A fan.

Some moccasins.

Two bottles of Flex-All.

A stack of hardcover books.

Not much to show for eight years of your life, and all the time & effort & thought & love you lavished on that place. You should have at least gotten a gold watch...

I got a battery pack for the trim saw at Home Despot ( hattip: hosedragger at Teh Squeaky Wheel... ) and that damn Wahl clipper ought to be charged by now, so I can start terrorizing Zoey.

I still can't quite believe you died so young and so swiftly-- I still think sounds I hear are you, stirring around...

And I still love you
johnny

[backhoe]

Well, Sweet Pea-- another day has passed without you.

Fed the dogpack and had another delicious frozen Salisbury steak...

Robert, as I anticipated, was quite amenable to my taking a table from your Mom's, so I went there earlier and found a metal hospital table in her bedroom that will be perfect for standing on the front porch and going thru your trip to Honey Creek stuff-- I'd still like to get your EFM checkbook.

Then, what do I do with your EFM material- and your luggage? Not to mention your clothes and things I have no attachment to and can't use myself.

If I were wise, I'd sell what I could- we can use the money-- but with yard or estate sales, there's the "dogs escaping" problem. I will think on this.

I'm mulling over ways to stretch the budget, like making fewer trips and rolling smokes, and toying with the idea of sending the credit card companies less with a note, "My wife just died and I can't find work-- this is all I can spare and it is better than nothing." Sure wish you were here to consult. You did so well with money issues.

I'm just wrung out, kid. I really never have experienced such a thing-- the first time didn't lay a foundation for this.

Except for the heat, it was another "glorious day!"

Without you.

I love you, child
johnny

[Ratz.ca]

Backhoe

I trust that as time goes by, God willing, the pain decreases. It will not totally fade away, as to keep us in check when remebering friends, family, and loved ones that we have lost. I am thankful, too, that our gracious host and hostess have allowed you to grieve in this manner. My prayers for them, as always, and to you kind sir, serving up the best only.