Remembering Gerhard,  The Dude Abides

We first met Gerhard through our friend Renee.  He was the English professor who years earlier had been her graduate school thesis advisor.

The two had remained very close and Renee invited Gerhard to join our group of friends who took turns hosting each other at dinner,  and who in summer spent weekends together in the country at Renee’s house and at ours.   (See Comfort Food for Renee)

And times spent with Gerhard were always delightful.  He was bright and witty,  always ready for a lively debate on politics,  or books,  or any subject you’d propose.  A Victorian literature scholar,  every year he’d attend the Dickens Universe Conference in California and regale us with stories of the scholarly and not so scholarly goings-on there.

And always ready with an amusing challenge,  Gerhard once asked us each to draft a message we’d like engraved on our tombstone!

One summer weekend at our house I remember how shocked Gerhard was to learn some of us had never seen the 1998 Coen Brothers / Jeff Bridges cult film The Big Lebowski.  He found it streaming online and insisted we watch it together that night.  We did,  and afterwards in typical Gerhard fashion we discussed the film and debated its message.

Then in his late 80s Gerhard developed heart disease and for a time was in cardiac rehab where we visited him.  He returned home but was never completely well,  and during the pandemic we got the unhappy news that our friend had died.

Like most funerals during that fitful time Gerhard’s service was Zoomed,  and thus we even missed the solace of mourning him together.

But you are unforgettable Gerhard,  the Dude abides.

– Dana Susan Lehrman

Snow had fallen overnight, and when we arrived at Skyline, the road was closed. The trip was ruined.
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(Excerpted from my book, The Long Pivot Home: Based on a true story of love and loss in Oklahoma.)

For five years, from 1995-2000, I had been trying to complete a giant pivot in my life, charting a new course away from the loss of my beloved wife Selena, then away from my experience in the Oklahoma City bombing, then my resulting double life as a professor in the classrooms and a compulsive gambler in the casinos.

That effort was a very long process and often was characterized by one step forward and two back; sometimes more.

Lessons Learned

I had learned a few things over these years, chief among them that hammering my thumb by moving into a destructive addiction and moving too quickly into the wrong relationships, had not worked to erase my pain. Indeed, it had only led to more of it.

I also came to grips with being a flawed individual. But I was working hard to be a better man, and that became my daily objective. I was making strides toward that goal, and Kate Hammond’s entrance into my life helped immensely. I now had even stronger reasons to leave Selena and the Tunica, Mississippi casinos behind permanently. I was tired of lying about myself to people I cared about, and I knew I would have to put more geographical distance between me and the gambling houses just south of the Memphis line.

Today, as I write this, I have not entered a casino in many years.

Love wins out

As for my experiences with love … well … the fact I’d lost Selena was the reason I was seeking escape in these casinos in the first place. I had lost in my pursuit of an unattainable and lasting love, even though so many of these experiences with Selena had – in  our earlier years together – strongly hinted the story would go on forever.

Although the reason for my losing Selena was different from subsequent failed relationships, the end result was always the same: This guy who was meant to live life with a soul mate, was left standing alone when the music stopped

Until Kate came into my life on New Year’s Eve 1999. She was living in Kentucky, and she reached out to me online that night via a dating site.

It was during one of Kate’s subsequent visits to Memphis in the spring of 2000 that I received an offer from the University of Oklahoma to become their McMahon Centennial Professor, starting in the following fall term. I readily accepted, partly because the inference that I would be a strong candidate for the dean’s position which was opening in the school of journalism that year. Kate was excited for me, and we knew we would work out the logistics for us. We both knew by then that, where ever either of us was headed, we would definitely be going there together.

Kate and I saw each other regularly, and she would spend many of those nights with me at my apartment. On one of those nights, I asked her to marry me, she said yes, and we set the date for July 16. I felt my grip on life had strengthened enough to make that move, knowing I wanted to be able to stand on my own two feet before asking her to spend her life with me.

Regaining control

So, for the first time in a long time, I felt I was regaining control of my life. Early on in our relationship, I had told Kate of my gambling problem, and she must have thought I was worth the risk, which is something for which I am eternally grateful.

We married in Kentucky as planned, amid her family members, most of whom were skeptical and felt we had moved too fast. I later learned that some of them had considered staging an intervention with Kate to talk her out of getting married so soon. But they all put on their best smiles at the wedding and hoped for the best.

It was a happy occasion for us, but I’m not sure how many family members were excited about it. It’s felt good trying to relieve them of their doubts over all these intervening years. Kate and I have both come to experience a love like we had never known before. It took a while for it develop to the even-deeper state that it would in years to come, but that’s the best kind of love, no?

Back to Oklahoma

The wedding was held on the evening of July 16 in a small Episcopal Church, and a couple weeks later Kate and I were packing up to move to Norman, Oklahoma, for my new job at OU.

It was a new experience for her is every way possible: she had never lived outside of  Kentucky, in all her 47 years; she had only been to Oklahoma once, to meet my parents; she was leaving her three grown daughters behind in Louisville, and she was doing all this with a brand new husband who she knew was bringing some heavy baggage into the marriage. She knew I was still shell-shocked from the experience with Selena,  and she knew that I had resorted to gambling in a way an alcoholic tries to drown his sorrow in booze.

Kate’s bravery

All in all, it took an extremely brave and confident woman to do that, and those are two of Kate’s shining traits. It was an undeserved stroke of good fortune for me that she did it out of genuine love for me.

Kate helped me leave gambling behind and forge ahead in my profession and personal life. The OU experience lasted only one year, but it was a memorable one for both of us. It was good being only a half-hour away from my parents and sister, and Kate got to know both of them well by the time the year was over.

She also was able to broaden her career resume’ by working as a musical accompanist for the OU School of Dance where she had to play a variety of impromptu pieces to fit the kinds of dances the instructor would be teaching each day. Kate has often told me it was the most stressful job she has ever had.

Old boat, new waters

When I took the OU job, I was excited and had idealistic visions of returning to the school I had loved as a student there. But a couple months after arriving, I learned the wisdom of the saying by the poet Heraclitus: “No man steps twice into the same river, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.” The University of Oklahoma was a different river by this year of 2000-2001, and I missed the old river that I had known in the mid-1960s as a student.

As for Kate, she was hoping for a less stressful job than the juggling act she was called on to perform every day in the school of dance. Add to all this the Oklahoma weather, which was extreme this year, going from ice storms in the winter to 104-degree temperatures and tornadoes in the spring and summer, and we were ready to seek greener pastures for 2001-2002.

Back to Memphis

I was asked to return to the University of Memphis, and I said yes. Sealing the deal for Kate and me was the fact we spent one of our last nights in Norman dodging a tornado.

We returned to Memphis for what would be a two-year stint which began with my being credited with a new student- and faculty-exchange program with two German universities that grew out of my partnership with ZDF television. Kate and I were invited to Frankfurt for the ribbon-cutting of the program that was overseen by newly appointed U.S. Ambassador Dan Coates.

Two decades later, that program is still going strong, and I was invited back to Germany in 2023 to help commemorate its founding. It is the only German-American journalism school exchange program like it, and I am proud of my contribution to getting it started.

I still felt vulnerable in Memphis, living so close to alluring casinos, so I began searching for other universities and found one in Southern California.

On to California

I got the job as chair of the Department of Communication Studies, and we entered into the West Coast phase of our life and marriage.

It felt good to be finally offering some tangible help to Kate in her unfolding career by securing free tuition for her at the university. Using that benefit, she completed two masters degrees and expand her interests beyond music into college student affairs management and teaching English to international students. This latter TESOL Master’s degree gave Kate entry to teach internationals at the university level for several years.

Along the way, we served as homestay parents for the international students she taught. At one point in our four-bedroom home, we were housing four different international students from three different countries. A real United Nations, and it was a lot of fun.

A new life

Nearly a quarter-center later, with Kate right beside me all the way, I know she is that person. I am indeed happy and have found my peace and my love. I have rebuilt my life and finances, made good friends, and Kate and I share a beautiful a home that’s filled with a half-dozen loving animals.

What more could a guy ask for?

As I write this, all these years later, I know I did have enough resolve left inside to fight my demons and move forward with hope. And I managed to salvage and build a life of value out of the trail of faux diamonds and rusted memories of Selena’s passing.  I had moved on to some 17 years of service at a values-centered university in Southern California, and I will soon celebrate the 25th wedding anniversary to a woman who I love madly.

I have recovered from my financial losses and have taken my credit score from that dismal 387 to a perfect 850. The man who once had to visit payday loan storefronts in strip malls, now gets a half-dozen invitations a week from large financial houses to borrow money. I pride myself in turning them all down.

The pivot point remembered

I will always look back to the Oklahoma City bombing as the pivot point in my life. In my darkest days of losing Selena, I encountered a much darker day thrust upon the people I grew up among, my fellow Sooners. It was an undeserved and cruel act that turned a vibrant city into a city of mourners. And it was an undeserved privilege for me to be able to tell their story of heroism and resilience in responding to that bombing.

In articulating their pain and the way they dealt with it, I was also articulating my own pain. I hoped I could match the resilience and pluck that my Oklahoma friends exhibited. It became my challenge and gave me enough inspiration to deal with the fight still to come in my own life.

I continue to grieve for the victims of the Murrah Building bombing, and I realize that as I write this in 2024, the youngest of the 219 children whose parents perished in that blast have now neared or reached the age of 30. Those who went — or are going — to college could do so for free in-state tuition, thanks to a multi-million-dollar donation fund set up in a foundation for that purpose.

More than enough

As for me, I count the patience, love, and support my wife has given me to be among my greatest gifts in life. As is the case with many journalists, I experienced some ongoing trauma from being so close to the bombing. But my career as a writer and educator has given me the creative and linguistic abilities to imagine and express my feelings. As a professor and writing coach, I’ve been able to pass some of my knowledge along to many young writers.

I’ll wrap it all up with a line from the character Tom Wingo in the film, The Prince of Tides:  “I am a writer, a teacher, a coach, and a well-loved man. And that is more than enough.”

I hadn’t realized how closely Patti and John had listened when I’d described my experience at the Chilmark Writer’s Workshop on Martha’s Vineyard, a wonderful, supportive writing workshop given by Nancy Slonim Aronie, an island legend (and beyond; she teaches at Kripalu, is featured on “All Things Considered”, and just published her third book). I took it three times between 2003-2011. It wasn’t about how to craft an excellent story, but rather about finding one’s voice and being in a magical writing circle where everyone divulged revealing tales about themselves. Nancy talked about various aspects of writing on each of the four days of the course, then gave us prompts, including one to write overnight and spend at least 15 minutes on it. I confess, a few of those stories made their way onto this site. We grew as we shared these intimate stories. Nancy insisted that we only give positive comments. John picked up on that too. So Retrospect became a place for supportive comments, not criticizing. Long-distance friendships were made. Serious discussions took place. Personal tales revealed.

John, Patti and a close friend of theirs worked long and hard to craft a user-friendly platform where Boomers could share their tales on a weekly basis, based on site-based prompts, or choose a story-line of one’s own. Positive comments could be offered, but only by vetted users of the site. The administrators hoped to build a wide community and a huge inventory of stories around shared prompts relating to topics from our collective experiences. It worked well for a long time, but it also took a lot of time and effort on everyone’s part to come up with interesting, probing prompts and keep improving the application while attracting new writers and readers.

I was flattered when my friends approached me in the late fall of 2015 with the request to be a beta tester of the site (we had discussed the idea over dinner once when we saw them, earlier in the year. They know me well and knew that I am not shy about telling my stories and I had some good ones to share). John helped me set up my online profile and knew that if I could use their site, then it was tech-friendly enough for anyone. They gave prompts four weeks in advance. I like to write ahead, so I can let my thoughts marinate, then come back and edit! My assignment was to write three stories and comment on three others, just to see how it would go. The first prompt was “What We Ate” (again, based on the first story always written up in Chilmark, which was “Dinner at our house was…”). The story went live on December 14, 2015 – 9 years ago.

Brisket

I was hooked. I wrote and wrote – every week for eight years. I wrote weeks ahead so that I had a story to put up, even when we were traveling. But keeping this site going took a tremendous amount of effort, not just coming up with new, interesting prompts, but gaining new authors and readers, keeping out the spam, keeping the software running. So, after three years, my friends decided it was time to pack it in. I wrote a fond tribute to them for the prompt “Turning Points”, which went live on December 31, 2018.

Moving On

Yet, several writers didn’t want this great site to end, so took it over from Patti, John and Susan, with new Admins and a new infusion of capital. After a few month’s hiatus, it started up again on March 1, 2019 with the prompt “New Beginnings”.

“Retro” Revival

I used to post my stories to Facebook, but discovered that wasn’t a good idea, for privacy reasons, so asked my readers to indicate who would like to receive a link each week as the story went live. The new Admins moved the publishing day from Monday to Saturday and by this time I had a nice list of people to whom I sent the story link. I decided that I had to write a letter of introduction before sending out the link, so somehow, I wrote two stories each week (in a manner of speaking). My list grew and changed, as more people learned about these stories. And after several years, these new administrators had also run their course. But again, current writers stepped in to take the site over, planning the new prompts each week. Yet with each iteration, features were lost on the site (we weren’t keeping up with changes in underlying software).

By the end of 2023, I had written 360 stories. It took a lot of time to think, write and search through old photo albums, looking for just the right photos to use to illustrate my stories. And I felt like I’d said what I had to say. When I told my son that I was no longer going to write on a weekly basis, he said 360 was a good number – I had come full circle. So at the beginning of this year, I only wrote when a prompt really spoke to me, or I found an old prompt and wrote a story when I was really upset about something.

It seems I wasn’t alone in taking a step back. Now, very few people wrote on a weekly basis, so it was determined that this would be the final prompt. We had a great run. The site will stay live, so people can continue to read the stories, or write if the spirit moves them (and I will have an opportunity to print my stories – I haven’t saved or printed anything since 2018). We made great friends along the way (we even had a Retro get-together or two – here is a local one, though NYC friends drove up for this brunch). There are four writers at this table.

Now I bid you adieu. Be kind and take care of one another. Keep in touch, I still want to hear from you. And keep telling your story.