Three, three, three posts in one

 This is gonna be a special post.  You get three exciting stories of my life packed into one pithy post.  The stories will feature death, drugs, cannibalism, and maybe some other things but I'm not sure.  Let's dive in:

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Post one:  Death

My dad died on Oct 12th.  Back when we visited in early August, he had just decided to stop treatment for the melanoma that he had been dealing with for a long time and that had slowly been spreading all over his body, inside and out, including a few spots of it in the brain that didn't seem to be responding very much to treatment.  When he decided to stop treatment, the doctors predicted that after 6-8 weeks he would experience a rapid decline, and then linger for a month or two.  That's pretty much exactly how everything went down.  

After being OK for 6-8 weeks, he started getting weaker and weaker, taking more and more naps and having much less interest in doing the things he normally did.  He lost his appetite and started eating less, which only fueled additional weakness.  After a few more weeks he started spending the majority of the day in bed, drifted in and out of consciousness, and stopped going down to meals.  As he lost weight and started getting out of bed less and less, my siblings and I knew that his death was imminent, but we weren't sure exactly how much time he might have left.  Days?  Weeks?  A month?  Two?  I started wondering if I should make a trip into St. Louis to see him and say goodbye, but I decided not to because when we had last visited at the end of the summer, we both knew that he had stopped treatment and that we might not see each other again.  The goodbye we had then felt good and it felt like enough.  I had a talk with my sister and told her how I was feeling about it, and she said that she and my siblings all supported whatever decision felt right.  

The day after talking with my sister, I was at work, it was a Friday morning, and I found myself crying all morning and wanting to make the trip to say a real goodbye.  To tell my Dad how I felt about him and that he would be missed.  While he could still be conscious (maybe) and hear me.  So I checked in with Jeannie and then my boss and decided that I would drive to St. Louis on Monday and drive back to Baltimore on Tuesday.   So that's what I did.  

I got to spend some time with my Dad, and I told him the things that I wanted to tell him, and we both cried, and we sang songs together (the killer, heartbreaking old songs about people dying horrible deaths in car crashes, or in war, or about kids dying from illness that he loved so much), and I sat and talked with my Mom, and my Dad drifted in and out of sleep, and I slept that night on their couch and listened to them talking in their bedroom the same way I used to do when I was 9 or 10 and laying in my bed hearing them talk in their room in the middle of the night.  It was spooky, and heartbreaking, and maybe healing in a way.  And the next day I said a final goodbye, which is probably the hardest thing I've ever done, and I ate breakfast with my Mom and then drove home.  And cried, and cried, and cried.  

And my Dad lived for another two weeks-ish.  And he was moved into the skilled nursing building a couple of days after my visit, and he pretty much stopped eating, and spent more time asleep.  And then he started telling people that he had died on October 1st, that he had stopped breathing and hadn't started again, and pressing the nurse call button because God was giving him messages to deliver to the nurses (who very kindly gave him a little shot of a sedative so that maybe God would send the messages a little less frequently).  And throughout this process, when he was awake and lucid he would assure everyone that he was comfortable and not in any pain.  

And then, on the morning of the 12th, a Sunday, I was driving home from fixing something at work and my brother called to let me know that he had just died.  And that my Mom, and brother, and oldest sister and brother-in-law had been with him, and that my other sister had just finished spending the night with him.  

And then we figured a day that worked for folks for a funeral, and my siblings did all the heavy lifting of planning and organizing it, and Jeannie and the kids and I made another drive in, and it was a beautiful day of family and friends and fall colors, and a lovely breeze, a beautiful cherry casket, and birds flying south overhead.  My dad would have loved it all.  

And what I am left with after everything is over is a tremendous feeling of gratitude.  I am so grateful for my siblings -- that we all get along, that we're all different in ways that seem to compliment each other, and that everybody just pitches in in whatever way they can.  I'm grateful for my Mom -- that in the midst of sadness and tremendous change she is able to focus on the positive, and the future, and keep putting one foot in front of the other with the faith that it will get easier (or at least, less hard).  And I'm grateful for the man that I get to call my Dad.  He was gentle, and kind, and reasonable, and fun, and he passed on his love of the little everyday miracle things in life that are given to us for free, without strings and without cause and without us deserving them:  sunlight, nature, music, people, hotdogs, diving boards, running, kicking, wood, rivers, ice, tears, children, hearts.

I have been enjoying the feeling of seeing my Dad in the things and places around me (especially the birds and trees and rivers on the drive back to Baltimore).  I have no idea if it's true but it sure is comforting.  

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Post Two:  Drugs

I recently (legally) ingested a Schedule 1 controlled substance.  My first drug use except for alcohol, nicotine, and caffeine (and, I guess, ibuprofen and whatever Nyquil is).  And throat coat herbal tea.  Unfortunately, I cannot say much more about this except that A) it was legal. B) it was not pot (I promised Spiff a long time ago that if I ever smoked pot, he would be the first person I did it with, and I do not intend on breaking that promise without his express written consent). C) it was in a highly safe and controlled setting, and D) it has proven, so far, to have been a very profound and positive experience.   I would point out that I think (D) is very much related to (C).  I cannot really imagine the extent of the potential for negative effects if (C) hadn't been the case.  

That's all I can really say about that right now.  Maybe this will all get its own post later in life.  Maybe not.  For now it's what I can share.  

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Post Three:  Cannibalism

When we were in St. Louis for the funeral, my nephew (who works in the tech world) told me that whenever he encounters a new AI program/app/bot/whatever the hell you call it, he tests it with the prompt, "Tell me what you know about turkenboyden."  Often, the AI bot will respond with things that don't really make sense, but he said he recently tried one that must have found this blog and was able to return results that showed tremendous insight about my personal history, psyche, and dare I say, the contents of my soul.  

So, in an attempt to make AI eat itself, so that when in the future AI is searching for information about turkenboyden it will find information generated by a previous AI, I will include a copy of the AI results that it gave my nephew.  In the hopes that the whole thing explodes and we go back to being fucking cavepersons.  Here it is:

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That's it.  I hope you have enjoyed these three posts.  I know I sure enjoyed writing them.  

Where fashion sits...

 The family and I have just returned from our annual summer vacation, 2025 style.  

We began with a drive from Bmore to Mossy Springs in southern Missouri.  Spent some balls-ass hot summer days sitting in the Gasconade river and visiting with family.  Dunking in a 55 degree spring.  Getting chigger bites.  Sweating at night.  Just like my people have been doing for over 100 years now.  

Then we spent a few days in St. Louis, staying with Jeannie's Mom and visiting various folks -- my parents, her Dad, etc. -- and doing some of our usual St. Louisy things.  Grilling meat at her Mom's new house, sweltering in the heat of my parents' apartment, going to the City Museum, playing Cards Against Humanity family edition, playing Rummy, hangin' with Jeannie's brother and his daughter.   I received an accordion.  

 

Then, the kids stayed with my sisters for a few days (and did wonderful things like Six Flags, disc golf, skatepark, frozen custard, etc) and Jeannie and I flew to Grand Cayman Island for a friend's wedding.  The friend and her new groom were treating everyone to the trip, so no expense was spared.  We were truly pampered for four days, and every need was catered to in a way that neither Jeannie nor I have experienced since we were babies.  We flew first class, we stayed at the Ritz Carlton, we ate from tremendous buffets for every meal, we frolicked on the beach, we slathered on gobs of sunscreen that was more like white spray paint than any sort of previously known body lotion, we rode (and repeatedly fell off of) something called an e-foil, we went on nighttime walks by the ocean, we enjoyed a private concert from a very British and enjoyable band, and disappeared from the real world in a way that was both very enjoyable and seductive and also very weird and didn't-quite-feel-right.  BUT -- I'm very grateful to have had the experience of a really memorable and unique four days.  I'm grateful to have had time away from the kids with just Jeannie and I, and I'm grateful that the kids were also having the time of their lives and getting four days of solid-packed lovin' from my sisters and their families.  

Then we got back and spent a few more days in St. Louis, visiting and relaxing.  

A big highlight happened for me on the drive back to Baltimore - while Jeannie slept and the kids were off in their own little headphone-induced worlds in the backseat, I listened to a new audiobook of Jack Kerouac's Lonesome Traveler and fell back in love with his writing.  To me his writing is the closest thing I've ever experienced to being inside the head of another person, and experiencing life in a different mind and body.  There have been a few of his books which have recently been put out in audiobook format for the first time (including my personal favorite, Desolation Angels, which I am listening to now) and listening to them has brought me back to a place of knowing and enjoying solitude and quiet contemplation and compassionate observation rather than getting caught up in things.  Hard to describe.  But it is a reconnection with something that feels veery central to who I am and how I view the world.  But related in a more colorful and artistic and (dare I say) poetic way than I could ever hope to do.  

Anyway, today it was back to work after a strange morning involving clinical trials that maybe if you're lucky, one day I will relate the story of.  

What to say?

 Hard to know what to say.  Been dealing with some things that have come up over the last few weeks that have added stress to life.  But have also put things into a different perspective that makes a lot of bullshit drop away, too.  

For a few weeks now, we've had a nighttime ritual in our house where we all (or most of us -- sometimes one of the kids is off doing something somewhere) gather in the living room, and the lights are dim-ish, and we've got soft music playing, and everybody is kinda doing their own thing, and we're just sitting and talking.  One of us might be reading, two of us playing cards or chess, one of us drawing -  things like that.  And we have all remarked at one time or another how much we like it, how peaceful and calming it feels.  For me, it's a bit of a dream come true.  When I used to picture (before I had a family) what it might be like to have a family, I pictured a scene kind of like what's happening now.  

It's been a rainy summer.  

The drug of the nation

 For no particular reason other than I was talking about it the other day with Samuel, these are my top 5 television shows of all time (not really in any particular order):

Breaking Bad

The West Wing

Cheers

Black Mirror

Friends

Honorable mention goes to Little House on the Prairie, but I'll admit that I often have a hard time getting all the way through an episode when I go back and do a rewatch.  

No Bad Parts

 Here's what happened to me, and it's gonna sound a bit wacko, or stupid, or nonsensical, but I want to put it down so I don't forget it.  

Back in the middle of February, I was sick for a few weeks, and I spent a few days in bed with Covid, and then was working while still sick, but just generally worn out and feverish and spending a lot of time in bed.  And one night while I was in bed I had an experience where I could clearly see different parts of myself -- mainly a very young part of myself that was scared and sad and felt alone (but that also was a very young part that sometimes was wild and fun and full of joy), and then a slightly older part of myself that was angry and scared and loud and who's main job was to make sure that EVERYONE STAYS SAFE.  Especially that young part of me.  And I thought, "How strange that I can see these two parts of myself so clearly, that I can see what they look like and how they act and how old they are and how loud they are and what they like and what they dislike and how they feel about each other."  And then I realized, wait a minute, there's a part of myself that is seeing these other two parts, and has feelings toward them, and makes decisions based on what these two parts are telling him, and this part that is watching is ME, adult me, and doesn't really have an age, has been there the whole time, since I was little and through to today.  And I started noticing other parts of me that are in there as well but maybe not very loud, or standing in the background -- occasionally coming forward and speaking, and then receding or hiding.  

I woke up the next day feeling pretty amazed at what I had seen.  

Then a few nights later I had an experience where the ADULT ME part saw the little kid part, and was talking to it, and asking it why it goes away, and what's bothering it.  And the little kid part talked to the adult part (not out loud, this is all happening in my head).  And I cried for a few minutes in bed while I listened to it, and felt what it feels.  And after I cried I felt like a part of my chest had gotten bigger, opened up, and more air could get in.  I was able to breathe in a way that I don't remember ever being able to before, or at least not for a VERY LONG TIME.   

And since that time I've felt different, like a pain that has been with me for 30+ years has dissolved, been lifted, disappeared.  That all of these different parts of myself are being taken cared of by this ADULT ME in a way that they never have been before.  And they've quieted and calmed down and are able to relax.  And as a result I feel like a 100% different person.  I am walking around with feelings of lightness, happiness, gratitude, calmness, confidence, and enjoyment in a way that I haven't experienced for a LONG time.  30 years?  More?  

Then the other day the book "No Bad Parts" by Richard Schwartz showed up in my social media feed (coincidence?  I think not), and I downloaded the audiobook and have been listening to it over the last week.  And I'm amazed at how accurately the book describes what my experience has been, down to the ages of the parts and the feelings that arise as they are able to speak, trust, and relax, and I've also felt amazed at myself --  that somehow I was given this experience and naturally or instinctively did some of the exercises described in the book before I ever knew anything about the book.  

I'm not sure what's going on, but I have appreciated the weeks of feeling different.  I feel like I've been given a new life and new eyes with which to see the world and the people around me, and the different parts that are hanging out inside of me.  And that I know how to take care of all of them.  

Björk and Beans

 Sam and I have been watching Stranger Things together.  I watched it when it first came out, but I don't remember many of the details, and this rewatch is a good refresher before the final season comes out later this year.  He's never seen it before.  We are enjoying it SO MUCH.  We watch one or two episodes each week, and we both look forward to it all week long, and we get giddy when it's time to watch.  Yesterday we watched the season 3 finale, and I have had to go back and watch the ending again several times since watching it yesterday.  I was incredibly moved, struck by so many things about the ending that were done well.  The writing, the acting, the lighting, the costumes, the direction.   Everything came together perfectly and the result has left me bawling every time I've watched it.  When I am on my deathbed I will look back and remember watching this show with Samuel as one of the highlights of my life.  

I got pretty sick a month or two ago and for awhile was having semi-psychedelic experiences during the night.  I was left with a deeper understanding of how my psyche works.   No shit.