LOVE Div ...... (Goodbye My Darling subsection)

                                                               

On September 14th at 6:20 AM, Diana, my loving wife and partner of over thirty years, passed away from the effects of the cerebral event she suffered just over two weeks ago. She passed away quietly and comfortably, the easy-listening music she loved playing softly in the background and with me sitting at her side, holding her hand and telling her how much she was loved.

There aren't really words big enough or strong enough to say just how much I Love her and describe the empty space that is now in front of me and will remain, every day, for the remainder of my life. A friend said that he and his wife never mentioned one of us without the other; there was no singularity. We each had our own individuality, our likes, dislikes and differing attitudes, but that is what made us the 'one' that described us as a couple.

Diana was a beautiful and talented woman. She was unbeatable as a salesperson in the fashion industry.   A million dollar producer for Woodward and Lothrop here in the DC area until it closed, she was the person the buyers went to regarding trends, style and salability for merchandise, rather than department management, After that she managed a large beauty salon and literally turned it from a day-to-day operation into one that actually made money. She could spot talent in a young stylist, match them to a client and grow him or her  into a creative force. Since she retired from that business, they have asked repeatedly for her to return.

Diana was born in Manhattan in 1947 and it's rumored that the first word she spoke was "Taxi." She grew up in the Eastern US and never held a driver's license. It wasn't a hinderance because she was organized and determined enough to use whatever transportation was available, including her own shapely legs. After working in the high-end cosmetics business, she worked in the temporary employee recruitment and placement industry - - again becoming a sought-after commodity herself.

When we married and I brought her to England in 1982, the neighbors in our village were convinced they had their own local "Lady Diana." She adapted readily to the divisions of a common language, the differences in culture, and having to prepare dinners in what she referred to as her "Barbie Doll sized" kitchen. She soon was educating the American wives on how and where to shop locally. When we left our village and moved to our second posting in England, the town's butcher cried.


It's hard to imagine why such a tragedy should happen to such a vibrant, talented, respected and loved person. She was always putting others first and her memory for birth-dates, anniversaries and special events was phenomenal. She never forgot to send a card, flowers or organize a night out or a special dinner (prepared by her) for that occasion.

She was always so independent and vital. She always said that she didn't want a life where she was totally dependent on someone else. The results of her injury were such that she would have remained bedridden and probably immobile for the remainder of her days - - and that was contrary to her concept of life and living. We were fortunate that the extent of her disability allowed me to choose a path for her that freed her from the cruel denial of her wishes. She's now free.

I miss you my Love.

Bear

LOVE ...... div

This one is personal and pretty difficult to compose right now  - - I guess if you stagger through it, you'll understand.

                                        (She ain't too shabby for someone on Social Security, eh??)

                                                        [and yes, the blonde hair is real]

I've known the woman that is my wife, my companion, my partner and my lover for almost sixty years. We've been married over thirty (as she says, I finally came to my senses). She's the one that started calling me "the Bear" and it's stuck.

She's put up with crap for half of my career as an Air Force officer - -  the separations, the frustrations, the long hours and the politics. She could cook a gourmet meal for two or feed a crowd of fifty (and love doing it). She was there after my retirement; encouraging me when the "Bush the First" economy was cratering and I couldn't find a job. When I was finally recruited for a job in the DC area she saluted and marched into the uncertainty with me; and when the job was canceled, she promptly went out and got one herself. 

When I was diagnosed with cancer, she never wavered in her positive support and in looking after my every need even on the two occasions when she was afraid I wasn't coming home again.

Wednesday morning, after taking a shower, she collapsed on our bed complaining of a monster headache. Within five minutes she was incoherent. The paramedics arrived three minutes later and she was taken to our local hospital and then transported, in a coma, to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore and their Neurological Critical Care Unit.

During the ensuing forty-eight hours (less actually) she's undergone three surgical procedures, an angiogram and two CAT scans. My state of shock is nothing compared to what she's been through so far; and I can't possibly compare my five surgeries to her present condition. At least when I came out of anesthesia, I knew she was there - so far, I don't know if she knows.

Apparently, she was a victim of a brain AVM (arteriovenous malformation) a very rare, congenital condition that usually cannot be diagnosed ahead of time. The rupture caused massive bleeding within and around her brain. A drain was placed for removing the fluid and, later that evening, a portion of her skull (in back) was removed to allow the brain to swell and relieve the pressure. A CAT scan has also revealed four separate aneurysms in the arteries leading to the malformation. These have now been "blocked" (with, probably, some resultant "stroke" ramifications). The hardest part of all this is the "not knowing." Hell, even the Docs don't know (and that isn't their fault). They tell me that, so far, the results are positive, everything has done what it was intended to do and the next five days or so should give us a better idea of what's to follow. 

This morning, she squeezed the nurse's hand and gave a "thumbs up" when asked (well, shouted at anyway - she's still unconscious and on a ventilator). I hold her hand and talk to her and hope she can hear me and know I'm there and that I Love her so very much. She did (I think) give me a little squeeze tonite. 

Years ago (about the same time I became the Bear) I nick-named her "the Goose Girl" because of her fondness for the down comforter on the bed. I've asked the nurses to call her by that name since it's a name she reflexively associates with love and companionship. Anything I can do to bring her back from whatever  place she is I'll do ......... I simply don't know where she is right now. I also often don't even know what questions to ask ..... consider the old analogy "like a hog lookin' at a pocket-watch." 

There are some things I can be thankful for: I was home and not out Driving4$$. That I had the sense not to panic and call for help. That response was quick. That Johns Hopkins is probably the finest hospital in the country. That we have insurance ( I guess that's what "delayed gratification" is all about).

Anyone who has been through anything like this will associate with what I've said. If you haven't, I hope you never do. Love the people close to you. Don't leave on an unkind word and hold dear your every moment together. The Goose Girl and I were talking intelligently and coherently fifteen minutes before the paramedics were called, it doesn't take long ..... or much ........ or whatever .......... 

I guess it's now my turn to give back whatever it takes and only hope that she comes back to me. But, I'm ready. And then again, that's what love's all about, eh ?

Thanks   - - Bear

P.S.  The SaturdayBluegrass is scheduled already.

Keep Your Hands to Yourself Div (Military Subsection)

I guess that the number of female type persons in the military has increased over the past 25 years since I retired. That isn't to say that they weren't around back in the days. I even remember some of the first female aircrew members  (and the associated male attitudes and comments). Needless to say, the ladies were really up to the task and probably felt that they had to be twice as good as any guy just to measure up and be accepted - - - talk about threatening !!.

When I was single, I dated female service members, though never enlisted and never any woman that worked with or for me.

I found the gals (no slur intended) that worked for me to be competent, motivated and above reproach. I also knew guys that made fools of themselves around female contemporaries (and subordinates) ... and a couple that made complete shambles of their marriages and/or careers by letting the "one-eyed worm" dictate their actions.

The current (and seemingly endless) chronicle of the Air Force's problem (and the military's in general) is troubling. I could never imagine that the CIC would have to put out the word that it was unacceptable.

The histories surrounding the stalled/failed careers of two Air Force flag officers make me shake my head in wonder. The arrest of a Pentagon staffer (ironically in charge of the program to prevent sexual harassment) is the frosting on the cake.

Fast Bike & Pretty Girl (and a little Bluegrass) .... div

On this date in 1948, Rollie Free donned his swimming trunks and goggles and proceeded to set the US motorcycle land speed record on a production Vincent Black Lightning motorcycle.

English musician Richard Thompson wrote this in 1991. There's at least a great shortstory, if not an entire novel, in the song. It's been covered by several persons, but this is my favorite  - - and Jason Carter's fiddle licks are outstanding.  Fellow blogger Badtux posted the Thompson version back in July, so link to him if you want to make a comparison.

This was recorded at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville and has the best quality (feel free to exit before the gospel number  - -  though the McCory band has excellent harmony).
I read a comment about Del being asked to perform this at Newport a few years back. He told the requester no and said to wait 'til later in the show and hear the best version -  performed by the fellow who wrote it.
  Classy.

Glass Ceiling ... div

Despite all the talk of "inclusion" they still can't help themselves, eh ??
Maybe they just don't get it.
I'm sure she can "make a dress out of a feed-bag," but these jerkwads ain't never gonna be "men."
 ........... No matter how hard she tries.

Ignorance div (graphics subsection)

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                                           (h/t  Huffington Post)