As the family upgraded to newer, better cars, it got so I could drive the older one almost exclusively even though I wasn’t technically the owner. A two-tone green Cadillac that was old but didn’t exactly qualify as a beater became known as The Green Hornet. What a tank. It was like a couple of big, comfy sofas wrapped in metal that has made all subsequent cars feel like a tomato can to me.

My friends and I would bomb around in it, ski-jogging in winter, cruising Riv in all seasons. Riv, or the Riv, Riverside Avenue, the main drag going through downtown, was all of maybe 10 blocks and kids from all over the city would come and cruise slowly, windows down in every kind of weather, checking each other out. At the end they would turn around and cruise back again, looping on endless repeat. Once, around Halloween, we wired a pumpkin to the hood ornament. Woo hoo. Would have loved to be getting up to more mischief than that, but mischief was in short supply on the ground.

Here is a pic of one like it. You lifted up one of the tail lights to put gas in.

i think this is the space I need to write my story.  Please bear with me through it, dear reader.  It is painful for me to write, but write it I must.  For some odd reason, a personal journal does not fill my needs. I have never been good at journaling.  It feels too much like an obligation.  I need witnesses.

i married a dear, kind, wonderful, intelligent and funny man in 1975.  We waited to start our family for almost ten years because we were both the youngest children of our families, and we really thought that we should travel and study and grow up and enjoy a few years before we brought a child or two into the mix.  We did exactly that–maybe not as adventurous at traveling as some, but we did get to Europe, we did canoe on a few rivers and camp and endure the loss of my parents….certainly we came to know each other well and enjoy a life that we were committed to continuing that included children.  During that time I gained a graduate degree, we both worked full time, and we bought a house that included an acre of garden.  We grew blackberry bushes and added such perennial vegetables as asparagus and leeks, and learned that deer and crows would not allow us to grow corn and root crops of any kind.  Mother Earth News was our favorite publication and we devoured it when it arrived each month.  Dreams.

I don’t remember a time that I didn’t want children.  I’m told that since I was a tiny girl I played with baby dolls and later on, I babysat regularly for extra spending money.  I loved kids and longed for the day that our own baby or babies would lead us into our future.  This finally occurred in January of 1984 when our first son was born.  I felt so proud, naturally giving birth to a strapping 8 pound, 9 ounce baby boy whom we named Ian because his name would be in honor of my deceased father.

This boy, he was something!  Beautiful, healthy, bright, smart, watchful, alert, and later considerate, thoughtful, and also athletic which reminded me so much of my mother, who was also so athletic.  He even looked like her when he was young.  It was kind of creepy and wonderful at the same time.  Well, HE thought it was creepy, but I thought it was wonderful, as if I was given a second chance to see my Mom again.  He was such a gift in our lives!

He was a “gifted” kid, diagnosed at a young age and entered into the limited gifted program in his school.  He took his own intelligence seriously, and we tried to respect that while also giving him balance in his life with athletic outlets and humor and emotional support.  That last sentence sounds so stilted — and yet I cannot find a better way of saying it.  We did what every parent wants to do and we were fortunate to be able to provide it.

High school, sports, and college followed….and as he aged we grew increasingly worried.  It was so slow, so insidious….we allowed ourselves to think that he was okay, although we checked with him regularly.  But he was definitely NOT okay. He came home after four years, one class shy of a degree in Biology, as a different person.  It was then that we saw the mental illness that had probably been lurking–had surely been lurking–which we did not see and which he hid from us.  He hid it so, so well.

Seven years after this nightmare began, our beautiful son ended his life by suicide.  We were so fortunate to be in touch with him every day for the last three years of his life.  We got to see glimpses of the magnificent man he was, and could continue to be….  He had dreams of becoming an advocate for making better mental health policy.  He had so much to give this world, and yet an illness sidelined his—and our—best intentions.

There are few words to adequately describe the depths of panic and terror a parent feels when a child is in peril.  The feeling that culminates from that is called ‘numb’. Fewer still are the words when there is nothing that can be done, even when you know you have covered every base, called every person, talked until you have no breath left and still  it will never be enough.  I now understand the depth of feeling a parent of a dying child feels, such as one who has cancer that is incurable.  The only difference between that and our experience is that there are no compassionate doctors and nurses, support groups and 24 hour call lines.  I also understand the heights of hope against the odds.  Who knows?  Whatever you try next might help, and so you continue.

Our son died on May 30, 2016.  We got a call from a coroner’s office, asking us to come identify his body.  The detectives, officers and others with whom we spoke were far more compassionate and kind than anyone we had contact with prior to that.  I am grateful for them.

Today, I believe that I am through the worst of the panic and terror, although I still dream of my beautiful boy.  In my dreams, he smiles and laughs and wants to reach me and he does.  This grief thing, it feels as old as time and yet as new as sunrise….but beyond that, it feels familiar.  I have lost my parents and yet I believe that they are with me still.  I have lost my son but he continues to reach me.  There is hope.

Its just not as shiny and new as it seemed back in 1975.  But it’s there.

Personally I feel what most people consider a disaster in reality is quite the contraire. Not at all unlike the way most people see events in life, so many seem to see the dark side of so much instead of the light on the other side. This is the way man has survived countless centuries. Since the beginning of time it was disasters that taught man what to avoid which in turn saved him from extinction.

Hundreds of years ago when a caveman reached in to the fire for whatever reason and was terribly burned he probably thought of it as a disaster; one that involved great pain. But in reality it was a much needed lesson. One could say it was a lesson that could save his bacon in more ways than one. From that moment on he had learned from an experience and could now teach others of the consequences.  His disaster was good for him and mankind would benefit for it.

Newton’s third law is: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This can easily be applied to disasters as well. From that day on when the caveman saw a flame he knew to stand clear thus ensuring no pain and in fact being happier for it as a result.

Over the years disasters have made us stronger, safer, smarter, and happier. For example, because car wrecks have caused so many deaths, engineers were forced to build safer automobiles.  Because earthquakes destroyed homes, architects were forced to find ways to retrofit and design safer dwellings. Because of illness, sickness and disease, researchers and doctors found ways to treat and prevent pain and death. The list goes on but the reality is that without disaster the quality of life would be poor at best.

Life as the result of a disaster is in the eyes of the beholder. In caveman’s time so much knowledge was needed to be gained before any semblance of what could be considered an improvement to the quality of life would ever be expected. As crazy as it seems we should be glad there has been so much devastation over millenniums of time simply because of lessons learned which helped make our would a safer, better place to exist.

When I was a boy there was a freak accident which caused me to go blind. I did not see the light of day for four and a half years. Naturally my mother and father saw it as a disaster. In realty, for me it was anything but. They say when someone loses one of the five senses, (sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing.) the other senses will grow stronger. I can assure you this is positively a truth. I can also tell you that for some there is another factor overlooked as well.  It’s our sense of desire. When the doctor told my mother that I would never see again she believed it to be a disaster. While I will admit there was some trepidation on my part I must say not once in my life did I ever truly believe what the doctor said would ever stop me from having an amazing life. Instead of being sad I began dreaming up ways to make the best of it. I literally didn’t see the darkness; I chose to look for the light.

While desire may not be defined as one of the senses, the reality is its one of our strongest attributes and should be considered a sense. Everyone should be born with sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing and yes, desire. With desire comes determination and the need to succeed or to be better at something. In my case, there was the strong desire to be able to play with others my age and to be able to do the things they could do and to do them as well or even better. But that desire only increased with time.

Having known the reality of being blind I now had a whole new appreciation for sight and the doors opened because of it. Because of the accident I lost the majority of my depth perception but because of desire not only did I find a way around such loss but in fact learned ways of overcoming it. I went on to achieve what I considered many great accomplishments some of which included setting records as a race car driver and an Olympic marksman. I sought those doors and looked forward to what lay on the other side.

I remember his reply the day I asked my Olympic coach why he chose me above so many other athletes. He said, “Funny isn’t it, you were the smallest, you had many bad habits, you smoked, drank coffee, and had no depth perception and wanted to be a world class marksman. I was just grateful you didn’t want to be a boxer or a brain surgeon. But what you did have more than anyone else was desire and determination. Do you remember the day we went to the county fair? While you were trying to win a stuffed animal by shooting out a star everyone behind us kept telling you the game was rigged and impossible to beat. But you didn’t allow their negative comments to distract you and you just kept telling the guy to give you another round. When all was said and done, the perplexed look you left on the carnival worker’s face was priceless and we came home with a trunk filled with stuffed animals. It was that very evening when I realized I had never met such a determined personality in my life. That was the night I decided to make you my protégé. I have never regretted that decision.”

I believe had I never been blind I would never have developed such a strong desire or determination to do something to such extreme perfection. Can you see what some may have thought of as a disaster actually became a dream come true?

One has to realize there will in fact be more disasters and lessons to be learned both of which will not only help prevent the extinction of mankind but assist in a better quality of life for future generations to come. The good news is, today there is less need to live in fear than there was in caveman’s time. If I could teach only one lesson, it would be to teach others to stop seeing the negative in daily events even those thought of as disasters. Instead I would hope everyone would learn to see the positives. They are many. When someone dies, don’t be sad their gone. Be glad they lived. When there’s a flood, don’t be sad it rained. Be glad the sun will shine again. We can choose to allow disasters in life to sadden us or we can choose to find ways to understand how they will in fact help us find a better quality of life.  Seeing the positive is a healthier choice, ironically sometimes brought about by disaster.

In the early 70’s when I first came to Palo Alto California to attend school my parents offered to help with my living expenses. I thought I had a handle on getting off to a great start when I convinced my parents that rent was considerably higher in Palo Alto than it was in the small coastal town I hailed from and ended up renting a room in none other than The Cabana Hyatt House which was the very same place The Beatles stayed when they performed in San Francisco at Candlestick Park, August 29^th, 1966. Things seemed to be going just fine until my parents received the monthly bill that unfortunately included a monogram seal complete with an image of the opulent Cabana Hyatt House on the letterhead. It’s safe to say; after my father saw the invoice and letterhead my next living arrangements were not as opulent not to mention shortly thereafter. But this story on the other hand takes place prior to my need to seek different living arrangements.

Needless to say, daily life at a poolside cabana was easy to accept, albeit short lived. As a young man fresh out of high school I found the good life pleasant in deed. Included with such living arrangements were the many amenities some of which were the many wedding receptions held out by the pool. It didn’t take long for this college kid to realize that if I dressed the part all I had to do was smile, say “Good day”, and make small talk being sure to ask, “Don’t the bride and groom look just lovely!” at the same time being sure to avoid questions like, “Where do you know the bride and groom from?” As long as these basic rules were adhered too there was as much free food and drink as anyone could ever ask for and the best part of all, an endless amount of beautiful ladies and there was never a need for a designated driver.

One beautiful Sunday morning I woke up feeling the warm summer sunlight shining in through my window. As I walked over to the window and opened the drapes and looking past the palm brows to see if anything was happening around the pool I thought I had hit the mother lode. Lying around the pool was a whole bevy of bikini clad beauties all working on what were already beautiful tans. Seeing that there wasn’t a male in sight I quickly dressed as suave as I possibly could complete with white slacks, polished shoes, a well pressed dress shirt and polished it all off with an ascot and slicked back hair. As far as I was concerned I was the Pièce De Résistance.

On the way out to the pool I thought I would show my dapper side by including a tall glass of orange juice. As I walked along the pool’s edge by the line of beautiful women all of which seemed to be descendents of Venus de Milo (complete with arms), I kept one hand neatly slide into my pants pocket while holding my drink in the other hand in a debonair fashion. Half way down the line I began making eye contact, smiling and making quite talk like, “Good morning ladies.” Things were going just fine until one of the ladies laying on her tummy with her bikini top unfastened at the back and holding onto the front of her top so she could sit up and turnover said, “Hi! What’s your name?” Trying to be as suave as I possibly knew how at the ripe old age of 19 I started to say, “Well hello, my name is Gary” when it happened.

While being distracted by the view as I walked around the pool I neglected to notice the steps leading in and out of the pool that extended out from the pool leading right into my path. One might relate such an activity to that of texting while driving. As the words “Well hello…..” began to come from my lips my foot stepped off into oblivion thus causing me to fall straight into the pool like a giant redwood that had just been sawed down by a lumberjack. In that instance the only thing missing was someone yelling, “TIMBER!”  Attempting to be debonair, suave and dapper somehow seemed to go right out the window or down the drain as it were. Standing up while attempting unsuccessfully to pull my left hand from my wet slacks and yet still holding my glass filled with orange juice and an equal amount of pool water seemed to be the highlight for all who were enjoying the show. I just stood there with my hand still stuck in my pocket while all the ladies filled the air with delightful laughter. As if I had intended to do just such a thing I raised my glass and said, “Ladies.” and then took a drink provoking yet more uncontrollable laughter. Using the steps to walk out of the pool two of the ladies feebly attempting to hold back their laughter asked if I needed a towel to which I replied, “No thank you. It’s laundry day anyway.”  With that I wished them all “Good day” and walked back to my room with my shoes making a squishing sound on every step. I will never forget hearing all that laughter which again filled the air as I closed the sliding door behind me and pulled the blinds having left a trail of dripping pool water all the way from the pool to my room. It wasn’t until I saw myself completely drenched standing in front of the mirror that I saw my ascot had come un-tucked and dangling over my shoulder that I began to laugh uncontrollably. It was a perfect day to stay indoors where I hoped not to be recognized.