Saying goodbye is hard to do

I am absolutely thrilled that I am about to embark on a whole new adventure. I am so ready for this impending move to Idaho. I honestly couldn't be more pleased.

That being said, I'm still struggling with the bittersweet nature of saying goodbye to people and places I care about here.

Yesterday I spent some time at Pioneer Park in Walla Walla, enjoying the majestic trees and the aviary there one last time. I went by St. Siloun church to bid farewell to the bells with many fond memories of friends I have of that congregation. I spent some time hiking up the creek at Harris Park. Then today I went to church at Pendleton 1st Ward one last time.

I could not help but weep at the sight of some of the dear friends I have there. I will miss them tremendously.

I know this move is right for me and I am confident things are moving forward exactly as they are supposed to. But the flip side of that old saying about how every time a door closes a window opens is that as this new window is opening in my life I must accept the closing of a door.

Life is a series of letting go.
Having moved about 28 times in my lifetime I've said more than my share of goodbyes over the years. Somehow, this does not get any easier with practice.

I would have made a lousy nomadic Bedouin.

My hope is that once I get to Spudland I can burrow in deep, like a tick on a dog's back - hold on tight and not let go. My soul is ever so weary of being in transit. I want a place to put down deep roots and call HOME.

But I'm kidding myself if I think anything will ever really be permanent.
We're all strangers traveling through this life. By definition mortality is a temporary sojourn.... so long as I live I suspect I'll always feel a little bit disconnected and homesick. No matter how much I appreciate each stop along the way and no matter how much I come to love the people I meet everywhere I land I've come to accept that at some point there is an inevitable letting go. I know that is as it should be. Still, today it makes me sad.

A giant's passing

I'm on my way back to Arizona to attend the Memorial Service of my beloved uncle, Tom Pendley.

Many thanks to my cousin (Tom's daughter), Kathy Shaw, for sharing this obituary of her dad:

Arizona native, Thomas Tilman Pendley II, 87, of Phoenix died February 23, 2010.

Mr. Pendley was born February 22, 1923 in Clemenceau, (now Cottonwood), AZ to Frank and Jane Pendley. Tom grew up on the family homestead at Slide Rock, north of Sedona, where they raised apples, peaches, and pears which they sold at their roadside store. Tom attended grade school in Oak Creek Canyon, high school in Flagstaff, and university at ASU. He married Dorothy Diers in 1955 and returned to manage the family farm in Oak Creek from 1963 to 1985. Tom recognized the vulnerability of the orchard crops and added sweet corn to the produce raised at Slide Rock. He developed a loyal following of customers looking for that “picked this morning” freshness that had disappeared from the local markets. Tom’s passion for quality fruits and vegetables was the motivation for his collaborative effort in the foundation of the Coconino County Fair. He fought for the rights of the family farmer at a time when government and developers were exploiting nature’s wonders. Tom worked tirelessly to make the family farm a success and to preserve the natural beauty for generations to come. Through his efforts and those of Govenor Bruce Babbitt, Slide Rock became a State Park in 1985 and has since become one of the most popular State Parks in Arizona.

Tom and Dorothy enjoyed retirement by travelling to destinations in Alaska, Europe, and Mexico. Between trips he continued farming by raising tomatoes in his backyard garden; always with the emphasis on flavor over appearance. Tom brought the flavor of life to a family that will miss him dearly.

Tom was preceded in death by his parents, Frank L. and Jane H. Pendley, his brothers Don and Frank Pendley, sisters Jill Jonovich, Eva Young, Patricia Rueger, Marge Theriault and Joy Odell.

He leaves his wife, Dorothy of Phoenix, daughters Kathy Shaw (Ed) of Flagstaff and Karen Harkey (John) of Flagstaff, son Tom Pendley III (Kathy) of Phoenix, and three grandchildren Maya Shaw, Brooke Warren and Orion Pendley and sister Nina Lovett of Cottonwood,

A Memorial service will be held at Life in Christ Lutheran Church, Peoria, AZ, on Sunday February 28, at 3:00 p.m. (623) 773-1234.

In lieu of flowers, donations in his memory may be made to Friends of Slide Rock State Park, P.O. Box 3432, Flagstaff, AZ 86003.

Thanks to my older brother, Wayne, for sharing THIS LINK to Tom's Oral History with pictures of the apple ranch in Oak Creek that is now Slide Rock State Park.

Cow Stories

Today is my very last day at the college where I have worked for the past two and a half years. It seems odd that after today I will be turning in my keys and my badge and not returning to this place.

I am very much ready to move on to the new position I have accepted. I think this transition will be a good thing. Still, today I am thinking about all that I will miss.

On the absolute top of that list is the chance to hear Cow Stories from my boss, Dr. Harvey Franklin.


Harvey has been a great boss. He has taught me a lot. He helped me learn to navigate my way through a sometimes complicated political climate. He gave me room to take chances and try new things without ever making me feel stupid if I failed. He was always available to listen and offer support. But best of all, he told me cow stories.

I remember a particular day when I was trying to set up some new technology the college had purchased, "clicker" response devices. I needed to do a demonstration of how they worked, but I had not yet used them myself. I was having a few problems getting them to set up properly. I double checked my installation. I checked all the cords. I re-read the manual. But I was stumped. Time was ticking by before I would have to be in front of people sounding confident, encouraging them to adopt this new tool. But I didn't have a clue how to make them work. I was nervous and frazzled to say the least.

So I took a break from it all and went into Harvey's office to hear cow stories. He told me tales of "Babygirl" a calf that he and his wife were bottle feeding. It's one of those "you had to be there" sort of things. To sit and listen to Harvey weave his stories just always made me smile, relax and feel better about whatever challenge I had to face.

After a little while I was sufficiently calmed down to go back to the table where I had the technology all spread out and yes, I did figure it out and did my presentation just fine.

Another time Harvey and I were doing a presentation together in the auditorium in front of the entire college faculty and staff. Let's just say it did NOT go well. The person who had set up our equipment for us used a cord with a broken clip so we lost our Internet connection part way through. They gave us a different remote for the ITV than what we had practiced on. Here we were in front of the whole school trying to present a smooth demonstration of using these tools and everything went wrong. It was horrible. But we got through it and Harvey's support that day meant more to me than he will ever know. When I was feeling angry and humiliated he helped me put it in perspective and even to laugh about it later.

We have a standard joke about a very long cord...another snafu. We talk about "pumpkins" and we talk about cows. I'll always remember him slowing me down, teaching me patience, teaching me to "get the lay of the land" when I wanted to charge in blazing. He was right. He taught me about checking perceptions. He taught me how to ask questions more effectively.

Harvey has been more than a boss, in many ways he has been my mentor and friend. We've been a good team. I will miss working with him, but most of all I'll miss his stories. I WON'T miss staff meetings. But I will miss sitting in his office talking about all sorts of things. I'll miss his wise council and support.

I've had some great bosses and some terrible bosses. I've learned much from both. Now that I will be the boss at my new position, I hope I can be half as good there as Harvey has been to me. Clearly, there are things I will do differently. But much of what I know about how to manage people and projects has been influenced by this man. So I'll be thinking of Harvey and the cow stories as I head off to my new job tomorrow. I'll be a little bit sad. But I'll also be grateful for the chance I've had here to learn and develop new areas of expertise. Now it's off to a whole new adventure. Ready or not, here I come.

Goodbyes are Hard

I've been scrambling like crazy to wrap up all my projects at the college to prepare for my exit next week. I have just five more working days to get it all documented and packed up. I've been so focused on the task at hand I hadn't really let it sink in that I will be saying good-bye to several people I've come to care a great deal about.

On occasion I've torn out my hair over the politics and the sometimes dysfunctional system of the college where I work. But even at its most pathological phases, I've been truly blessed to work with some dynamite folks. For the past two and a half years we've shared a lot. After next week I won't be seeing them again.

There are a few I HOPE to have some ongoing contact with. But I've moved and changed jobs too many times to be very optimistic about that. Many a time I've heard folks say "oh, let's do stay in touch" but the reality is life gets busy and once we no longer have the common work environment there is precious little to pull us back to the same level of camaraderie we once shared. Particularly since I'll be working in a town 50 miles away (transitioning from Pendleton, OR to Walla Walla, WA) it is highly unlikely I'll see many of the old crew much at all. It's not like we can catch a quick lunch together and share stories.

So today I started really feeling the loss of all that I'm walking away from. I'm quite sure this transition will be mostly positive for me. But the change will have its share of heartache as well as blessings.

Besides missing certain people, I am very much going to miss the sense of mastery I have now. I know my role well and I'm good at it. I have every reason to believe I will GET good at my new job, hopefully in short order. But there is no way of getting around the fact that the first few weeks I'll be in a foreign land, unsure of processes and procedures, trying to learn names, reviewing every single policy with no sense of familiarity at all. I don't look forward to that.

I'm trying to be as positive about the whole thing as I can. I have already started thinking about some things I hope to initiate and scheming about ways I can start off strong. But I know that to a certain extent I will need to be patient, take my time, get the lay of the land and give myself some grace as I find my way in unfamiliar territory.

So I take a deep breath and plunge forward. The next few days will be a mixed bag emotionally speaking, of that I am sure.

Badger Holes & Mortality

My beloved injured his ankle the other day stepping in a badger hole. His work involves agricultural field research for OSU. He was out working in one of their experiment plots preparing the ground to plant mustard seed. He had noticed some badger holes so he got a shovel and proceeded to fill them in. As he went to tamp down the loose dirt over one of the holes the ground gave way to the cavity below, causing my man's ankle to twist at a nasty angle. It's not broken, but it is severely sprained. Doctor says for him to stay off of it, keep putting ice on and to not plan on any sustained walking for at least three weeks.

We had big plans for hiking the hills around Wenatchee this weekend. We were also going to go out in search of some new geocache. There were all sorts of things we intended to do since I've got the day off Friday and could make a long weekend of it. Now he won't be able to do any of those things.

We are both disappointed. Beyond that, it has made me think a bit more about our mortality and the impact the 12 year age difference between us is likely to have on us over the course of the next decade.

Up until now it has been no big deal that he was further down the road of life's season's than I. But at age 62 already I have noticed he is beginning to slow down a bit and relish his "old man's naps" whenever he can. Watching him hobble around the house with a cane as a result of this injury served as a reminder that it may not be too many more years before health issues or limited mobility could become routine challenges. How I choose to respond if/when that happens remains to be seen.

As we've talked about what we would do this weekend it became clear I really only have three options:

1) don't do the things we had planned at all since he can't do them with me.
2) do those things by myself.
3) do them with someone else.

I'm not thrilled by any of those options. This man I am married to is my best pal, my hero, my cherished companion. Even the most mundane of activities is all the more fun when he's along for the ride. But the fact remains that he CAN'T go out hiking on this trip and won't be for some time. So I'm not entirely sure what I'll do. I'll take it as it comes and make the most of it however it plays out.

The main reason for the trip is to visit our dear friends, Chuck & Pat, who we have not seen in a couple years. They had been serving a mission in the Atalanta, GA temple and then after returning from that spent this past winter in Arizona. Finally they are home so we are very anxious to go spend some time catching up with them. I'm really looking forward to just sitting and visiting. Also there are several other friends we want to go by to see. As long as Larry is careful getting in and out of the car he certainly can still enjoy visiting.

Still, watching him hobble around with his poor gimp foot has made me pause and wonder--how will I handle it if somewhere down the road he becomes ill or infirm, dealing with pain, possible incontinence or loss of cognitive ability?

When I said "in sickness or in health" I very much meant it. I am committed to this marriage for the long haul no matter what challenges may confront us. But making those promises in my 20's when we both felt young and invincible just didn't bear the weight that facing up to them at 50 and 62 does.

Husbands of two of my long time friends have had strokes in the last year. Others I know are dealing with severe diabetes, heart failure, emphysema. As I get older more and more of my contemporaries are showing me the range of what it is like to lose hold of youth. This growing old stuff isn't for sissies.

Whether it is me or him who may face significant health challenges, chances are one or the other of us will. I hope with all my heart that I'll be able to face whatever challenges that come up for us with grace, compassion and humor.

For now I'll just bring him more ice, re-wrap his ace bandage and be grateful this particular injury was not too serious. But it has served as a bit of a wake up call for rapids down river yet to come. I hope I'm up for them.

Anticipatory Grief

I have a co-worker who I am immensely fond of. I respect her integrity, enjoy her sense of humor, and feel supported by her as we work together on team projects. In a workplace that is rampant with neurotic politics, she is one of the precious few I can trust absolutely, and never feel I have to "watch my back" around. Working with Megan makes the job infinitely better. We talk about all kinds of stuff and have developed a rich friendship that makes both of our work lives way better than they would be in the absence of that bond.

However, sometime in the next six months or so, Megan will be leaving the college. She and her husband have been wanting to start a family for some time now. They have been married a couple years and are ready to invite a new spirit into their lives. A couple months ago she got the news there is a bun in the oven. For her sake, I could not be more pleased. Megan will be a terrific mother, and I know this is a life path that means a great deal to her.

For my sake, I am mortified. I can't even imagine going to work there every day without her there to help carry the load. From a practical standpoint, she will be VERY difficult to replace. Trying to run the projects we are mutually involved in with out her very capable contribution will be a grim task. Beyond that, I will deeply miss my pal.

We work out together every day at lunch time and laugh at each other's jokes. In the summer time we take walks up to the pond behind the ag building to check out the fish and talk about stuff we'd never say in the building where others might hear. We have a common faith, and both teach in the children's organization or our respective congregations. So we often share insights gleaned from working with the kids or funny stories about the crazy stuff they sometimes say or do.

Even if we get a very capable replacement for Megan in terms of the job role, having her gone is going to leave a huge hole in my heart. While I do adore her in many ways, we are not connected socially. We live in different counties and are at very different points in our lives. We have a work friendship. That is rich and wonderful, but it really doesn't carry over outside of that. When she leaves the job, I'm pretty sure she will be lost to me.

Oh sure, we'll sort of keep in touch through e-mail and may occasionally give each other a call. But I've moved on myself too many times to have any illusions that we will maintain anything even remotely close to what we have now.

So my heart is grieving for her loss, even though she is still there for now.
I'm trying to take each day as a gift, to stay focused on appreciating all I can about her now - and to pick her brain about all she knows about the work projects that will be left dangling in her absence.

But mostly I am in mourning that my friend will soon be going away.

Work is going to be a much bleaker environment without my pal.

Billions and Billions and Billions

Yesterday my overall clad pal, Jaquandor, posted about Carl Sagan, commemorating the 10th anniversary of Sagan's death.

Has some very cool pictures of the universe....

It got me to thinking some about what famous people's deaths had the most impact on me as I was growing up.

I was just a little kid with Kennedy was assassinated. Janice Joplin died on my 13th birthday. Probably the first one I remember being very impacted by was the murder of Anwar Sadat. I had always admired him tremendously.

I remember exactly where I was and who I was with when I heard that John Lennon had been killed.

Then, on a more personal note, I definitely greived the loss my old English Professor - Dr. John Hardaway. To him I was probably one of many. But to me, the brief time we knew each other was very special indeed. I still have several books that he gave me, along with a stack of letters. He was a great correspondant. He had a wicked sense of humor.

How about you? Who do you miss? Whether famous or family - what shining stars that have snuffed out had impact on your life?

Friendship, Losses & Transitions

Tonight I got an e-mail from an old friend of mine telling me of her heartache over the loss of someone she held dear. A person she had considered a rather close friend of some long standing has suddenly decided to pull back, giving no explanation other than "I can't do this anymore". My friend has no idea of what "this" referred to or what prompted the rift. She is left feeling a quagmire of loss, abandonment, rejection, and sadness without being able to comprehend why.

Talking her through this shambles of hurt feelings has got me to considering some of my own friendships, and reflecting over losses I've both caused and endured.

I had a best friend for a number of years when I lived in another state that I lost due to some things that happened that broke both our hearts. I tried to fix it. But apparently my efforts were too little too late. She chose to terminate all contact, refusing to return my calls. It has been nearly ten years since the final breach of that relationship. I miss her still.

More recently I have felt some pulling back from a relatively new friendship that I thought was going to be something really special and potentially long lasting. Someone I had started to trust and hoped to spend more time with seems to be backing off quite a bit. As far as I can tell there is no animosity or hurt feelings. It may just be circumstance of things she has going on in her world at this time. But for whatever reason, this person is either not willing or not available to pursue anything more than sporadic, peripheral contact with me right now. I'm not sure why. I really had believed we were on the road to being close buddies. So now I'm left wondering, did I misread the original cues or did something change? I try not to take the increasing distance personally. But of course, a part of my mind can't help but wonder, "Was it something I said? Was there something about me that made her pull away? Did I do something to make it so she no longer wants to share time with me?"

Then I think of a couple other occasions over the past few years when I was the one who pulled back...seeing clearly that some other person wanted very much to get to be my friend but for one reason or another I made the willful, deliberate choice not to carry on beyond a few attempts to get acquainted.

I'm trying to make sense of all of that. What does it mean to be a friend? What does it mean to have a friend?

How much difference from my own lifestyle and values do I like my pals to have? If they are too much like me it can get boring - we have nothing to contribute to one another. But if they are TOO different, that can cause problems too.

How much self revelation do I expect? How much can I give in return? If all I get from someone else is their public persona I may really like being around them...but it keeps the friendship more in the acquaintance category rather than allowing any significant trust and bonding to build. It is the very act of sharing a side of yourself that you DON'T give to just anybody who comes along that creates an intimate bond. If they are not willing to be more open with me in SOME way than they are to the average joe, then I feel less valued. However, the reverse can also be true...some people can share TOO MUCH private information to the point of making contact very uncomfortable. Where do we draw those lines? How much am I willing to adjust or accommodate my own expectations in this regard for someone who is more open or more private than me?

I look back at the friends who have graced my life...those who have stood the test of time are treasures I cherish with more reverence than they know. The few new people who have recently come into my world are shining stars that bring me joy and give me hope, but our histories are yet to be written. How much truth will these budding friendships withstand? There is almost a sense of courtship in the beginning with a new friend, as we each "put our best foot foreword" in our getting acquainted. It's not so much that we act fake or over-nice while getting to know each other. It's more a sense of moving step by step in testing how much of ourselves we are willing to share. Little by little we take risks of revealing more of our genuine, flawed selves and then wait to see if we are accepted still. If they know THIS about me will they still like me? How about if I say or do THIS? It's interesting to watch what things are easy to share and what things stay cloaked the longest time.

I also wonder about those that I was once close with but somehow let slip away just because one or the other of us changed jobs or moved, got married or divorced, or some other thing. Are those past friendships lost now or could they be resurrected? Is it realistic to expect to maintain close ties once the circumstances that formerly held us in each other's paths (like a job, serving together on a particular committee or kids playing on the same team) have ended?

Right now I'm really missing some folks that I've lost touch with in the past year due to these sorts of things...I still like them. They still like me. We just don't see each other anymore so it's hard to keep the torch of friendship alight.

In addition to having some people who I was once quite close with who I have since drifted away from, there are others who really touched me with their support or kindness that I never got to know well, but still appreciated with all my heart. Perhaps we shared a single important conversation or had some other exchange that brightened me, lifted me, when I needed it most. Maybe it was someone I met at a conference or workshop and then never saw again, but never forgot how much I enjoyed. Where do they fit in my bouquet of those I know and those I don't? Just because we don't hang out together now or keep in touch does not minimize the magic of what we did share.

These many different relationships are like the orchestra sound track of my life. There are high notes and low. There are all different instruments...some played better than others. Through it all, learning to love and be loved, to disclose confidences and keep them for others, to build and honor trust...all of that together is the music that makes me most human.

I think its time I reached out to a few folks I have had little or no contact with for a while and let them know how much I have valued them. We may not see each other often (or at all now) due to distance or other things...but good friendships are far to precious to let go by unacknowledged.