Insure

July 5, 2009

Thank you for your continued involvement in my research project about health insurance and health care. I used some of my research to write a letter to the editor of The Eagle, my newspaper. It appeared yesterday. Here's what I wrote:

I’m not sure what Bill Hunter meant when he wrote (June 30) that President Barack Obama is about to “parade some sad anecdotes before us” to convince us of the need for health care reform. In Brazos County, where I live, 18.4% of the population or 28,747 people had no health insurance in 2005. In Leon County, where Mr. Hunter lives, another 2823 (17.3%) were uninsured. Almost 7,000 of those without any form of health insurance in these two counties were children.

While these numbers may seem high, our counties are better off than many parts of our state. In 2006, Texas had the highest uninsured rate in the nation, with one in four Texans living without insurance. That translated into 5.7 million Texans with no coverage. Having so many uninsured Texans creates problems for the rest of us.

According to the Texas Health and Human Services Commission a high rate of uninsured citizens contributes to:

• Poorer health outcomes, because the uninsured have more difficulty securing access to primary and preventive care;

• Increased costs of private insurance, because those with insurance pay higher premiums to subsidize the uninsured;

• Over reliance on safety net providers, including hospitals and emergency rooms, for care that is more expensive than care received in another setting, such as a doctor’s office;

• An increased likelihood of hospitalization for the uninsured for conditions that are avoidable; and

• Increased mortality rates.

What anecdotes could President Obama relate that would be sadder than these grim statistics? Insuring Aunt Mable might make her family feel better, but common sense economics tells the rest of us that we’d all be better off reforming the health care system.

Vickie Buenger

Bryan, Texas

Exclaim

July 2, 2009

Lest you wondered whether I would have enough room to store all the lanyards that Friends of Erin have made on the four Fridays we have met this summer, worry no longer. My California sister-in-law texted me Sunday night.

Quin: How many lanyards do you have in stock?

Vickie: About 50.

Quin: What about necklaces and eyeglasses chains?

Vickie: A few of each.

Quin: Overnight all please.

And the people exclaimed, "Wow!"

This was just days after Elaine had returned from Mo Ranch, having taken about 15 lanyards and returned with one and a big pile of donations. So, stocks depleted, we have to have another push. Luckily, a goodly number of folks have Friday off this week, and what better way to warm yourself up for a three-day weekend and big Independence Day celebrations, than to squint and work your fingers to the bone stringing beads? (NOTE BENE: I do offer refreshments and lively wit in exchange for labor. Apparently, those inducements are enough to prompt a dozen novice lanyarders (?) to commit to dropping by tomorrow. And the people exclaimed, "Wow!" )

I have also had equally good fortune collecting your responses to Erin's health insurance questionnaire. As of this morning 101 kind friends have taken the time to tell me their experiences and opinions about health insurance (And the people exclaimed, "Wow!"). I want to begin compiling the responses, but I also know several of you have just not had time to click on the link on the left side bar yet. I will leave the survey open until the 10th, just for you. I'd sure like to know what happened in your family if you ever had to go without insurance, even for a short while.

On other fronts, I finished reviewing the book manuscript for Texas A&M University Press I had worked on since our DC/New York trip. And Mary Lenn exclaimed, "Wow!"

I hope the people have not exclaimed themselves into a pile of limp rags, because I have one more for you.

You know that Erin loved to sing even though I think it would be kind to say that singing wasn't her most well-developed gift. She sang in the BISD Honor choir, always starred enthusiastically as a member of the chorus at Creative Arts Camp (front row, second from the left), and played Queen Jezebel in our church's musical production of Elijah (if you fast forward the video to about 30 seconds in you can hear her in action).





Why bring this up now? Another fine thing has happened that lets the ripples created by Erin's short, but powerful life continue to spread. We had a meeting with the music director at a local church this week (not our church, and not even a church that we had ever visited), who wanted our permission to commission a chorale work and dedicate it to Erin. Mark your calenders. The world premier performance of what right now is known as The Erin Anthem (but which, will no doubt have a fancier title by then) will occur at A&M First United Methodist Church in College Station on January 24, 2010. Everyone is invited.

And the people exclaimed, "Wow!"

Boil

June 30, 2009

When I opened facebook this morning, I learned that a colleague of mine, Jeff Conant, had died from infection complications after his first chemo treatment for ALL. Shock, despair for his family (who I don't know too well, except from sitting in Viking stadium together when Davis and his son, Scotty, played JV soccer together), and sadness followed in rapid succession. The fast boil didn't come until a couple of hours later, when my feeder reader sent me this blog entry from the Wall Street Journal's blog on health and the business of health by Shirley Wang:

Amid much discussion around comparative effectiveness of medical treatments and whether cost should be a factor in treatment decisions, a new article in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute estimates it would cost $440 billion to extend life by one year for the 550,000 Americans who die annually of cancer, reports the WSJ.

The authors, from the National Cancer Institute and National Institutes of Health, say that 90% of cancer drugs approved in the past four years cost more than $20,000 for 12 weeks worth of treatment.

Some drugs have limited upsides, and these shouldn’t be developed unless they will cost patients less than $20,000 for a standard course, they say. Two more recommendations from the authors: doctors shouldn’t prescribe cancer medicines for non-approved purposes, and new medicines with marginal benefits shouldn’t be used for those with advanced cancer.

(continued here)

If you have someone special who has died from cancer, re-read this last paragraph. Then scream. I'll have to think about what we should do after we scream. Any suggestions?

Love

June 26, 2009

Every time I look at the lanyards made by Erin's friends, I fall in love (click for a close up!).


Who wouldn't? They reflect a collective spirit of devotion, creativity, and sheer camaraderie of effort that boggles my mind.

Today we held the fourth lanyard making party of the summer. We are building inventory. I was prepared to give the greatest-distance-traveled award today to Lara and Hans for driving over from The Woodlands to participate (more than an hour, but less than two hours away).

When they first arrived, no one else was here and it was 3+ o'clock. I hadn't extended specific invitations, so I had no clue if anyone else would show up. I wondered if the energy behind the lanyards had petered out, and how I would explain that to someone who had gone out of there way to be there.

Before too long Jackson, my faithful friend, and Douglas arrived, with Shirlene. At least, I thought, we'd get a little done. It didn't have to be like the other weeks where we would have fifteen, twenty, or even more people crowding the house. We'd each have our own space and our own work tray and make beautiful bead creations.

Soon after, I found myself screaming in excitement. The entire Benson girl group from Fort Worth (sorry, Lara, you no longer win the prize for furthest traveled. New award goes to Ellen, Clayton Sue, Charlotte, and Clarke from Fort Worth. . .check the map you non-Texans. . .this is definitely a three plus hour drive for beading) arrived at the back door.

Then Anja and Tommy, Beverly, Colton, and Weston , Patti and Aaron, Mary Ann and Jesse came in ready to get after it.

I can't really explain the lanyard sessions. None of us are artists. Some are craftier than others. But it becomes more than that. This is absolutely grassroots. I have no control over the final product. . .and no matter what I have thought of each lanyard that someone has produced--perfect or shall I say less than perfect in my eyes--someone has fallen in love with it and said "that one's for me!" (There's probably a metaphor here, but I'm too tired to figure it out.) If only Erin made lanyards or if only I made lanyards, the range of creations would be so much smaller. If only I bought beads, the range of styles and colors would be so much narrower.

Instead, each week, I cast my bread upon the water. I invite anyone who want to come, and I let them have at it. I put out a few snacks and get some wire ready. A fewer hours later, as folks gather up to leave, I have more snacks than when I started with, even though everyone has eaten heartily. The lanyard board brims with inventory that replaces the lanyards shipped the previous week, and then some. I have more beads than when we started. My heart is fuller.

Earlier this week, Tracy called and asked if she wanted me to take lanyards up to the Children's Neruoblastoma Cancer Foundation Conference to sell. I don't know if anyone there would want one, but if we could somehow activate the energy, creativity, shared design, silly and serious conversations, excitement, friendship, and love that went into each one, they would be very popular.

See you next Friday for beads and love.

Kick

June 24, 2009

(Friday, June 28 UPDATE: Thank you so much for responding to my request for information about health insurance issues. Unbelievably, I have had 94 responses in the last ten days. Woohoo! I have heard from the very satisfied and from those who have run into stumbling blocks and hurdles along the way. One hundred is not a magical number, BUT I sure would like to hit that and beyond. So, if you haven't found the time to drop me a line on the surveymonkey, I'd would appreciate hearing from you. Those of you in Texas don't want to go outside in the 106 degree heat anyway, and the rest of you may need to put off doing your chores for a few more minutes. Clicking on the link to the left will take you to the five question prompt.)

Most of you probably live somewhere convenient, by which I mean, if you need something you walk, ride, or drive to a store and buy it. Even when I get over the true fact that I find in-person, brick-and-mortar shopping as therapeutic as a jellyfish tentacle wrap, I must face up to living in a townish-sized city whose primary demographic target is twenty-five to thirty years younger, and way hipper than me.

Walter will tell you that my solution is to wait for him to buy things for me. His most recent evidence would be our trip to Gander Mountain on Sunday to buy a pair of Keen's.
These hot little mamas replace (under duress) the Nike water sandals that have kept my toes cool and given me an incredibly stylish mid-foot tan for years. When the plastic guy that holds the heel strap split ten days ago, I tried just switching into my soccer flats--too hot and too much trouble. I tried going barefoot more--too much of a tenderfoot. I then solved the problem by using a sturdy paperclip to re-attach the strap to the shoe. Ta Da! Solving the problem, however, caused a secondary problem: Walter thought I looked, hmmm, shall we say, unpresentable and not incredibly professorial. (Note: I was going to use the term looked like a "Culhane," which is a word that Walter's family uses to describe hick-like behaviour and appearance, but when I googled Culhane to see how to spell it and what it really meant I decided prudence was a better course and that Culhane wasn't the best descriptor in this case.)

So, off to the store he swept me, and now I'm presentable and possibly a tad professorial (at least like a summertime, outdoor active professor). They certainly made it easier to jet outside this morning to chase the recalcitrant and unruly goats out of the backyard.

Which brings us to "kick."

Not really. We actually have to go back to my first paragraph about shopping to get to kick. Quite some time ago (months, maybe years), I signed up for a free internet service called iGive (this button is clickable).
The premise was that if I shopped at my usual internet stores like Lands End, L.L. Bean, or LEGOS (just to name some of the Ls), but went to those sites through the iGive portal, the stores would donate some percentage (usually between 1 and 4%) of any purchase I made to the charitable cause of my choice. . .like the Children's Neuroblastoma Research Foundation. I did the logical thing: signed up and promptly forgot about it.

Last week, I needed to order a dozen new soccer balls because the Mystic '97 move up to size 5 this year. Since our local stores would carry either inferior balls or way expensive balls, I went online to a better options: soccer.com. Not, by the way, entering through iGive.

A couple of days later an email from Betty at iGive somehow cleared my spam filter. I read that soccer.com would have donated 2.8% of my soccer balls purchase to CNCF AND given me free shipping. Then I kicked myself.

Let me give this to you straight. This was not gratuitous shopping. I needed these balls. I was definitely going to buy them from soccer.com. If I had taken the simple extra step of going to this page:

http://www.igive.com/shop/merchants.cfm?sort=name

and scrolled down to click on soccer.com, I could have helped CNCF out. I need to do this every time I shop online (see paragraph 1 above where I confess that I'd rather shop online than go near a store). There are 732 different merchant currently participating (click for the full list) currently, and not just Jim Bob's Bait Shop.


To shop and qualify for a donation, you must be logged in as an iGive.com member and you must reach the store through iGive.com or iSearchiGive.com.

Want to join and start shifting some money towards CNCF? Click this button, sign up, choose CNCF (or some other great and worthy charity), and then don't act like me: remember to log in at iGive before shopping.

Did you notice I updated the Davhee Repore? It's Wordless Wednesday over there, but over here I can tell you her name is EVI, and she's Davis's friend.

Beading on Friday, same Bead Time, same Bead Place, same Bead Channel.

Reflect

June 22, 2009

First, thank you for all the many responses to Erin's health insurance questionnaire (the link is at the left if you haven't taken the time yet). I have learned much and am learning more everyday. Please continue to share with your friends that I would like to hear their stories.

Now, on with what you come here for. . .

What would you conclude if you saw a bunny leaning up against the kayak parked on your deck?

Me too. I would assume she was a borderline delinquent, moments away from shoving the boat onto the lake and heading out for a joyride. She should appreciate that I turned her away from a life of crime that begins with boredom, and is quickly followed by the thought that "no one would really miss the boat if I took it for a spin around the lake." Left to its natural conclusion, the quick spin would have begat a chase scene worthy of a Bruce Willis movie and ultimately would have ended in Grand Theft Kayak charges.

She should also appreciate that I noticed her before Willie did.

In addition to having a bad bunny on the premises, I had a particularly bad bag of garbage that did me wrong, not once, but twice this weekend. I don't want to mislead you into thinking I chose "bad" because the bag had a similar, criminal personality as the bunny. It wasn't even "bad" in a nasty smelling or split-open-at-the seam way.

No, the bag of garbage was bad because it it caused me grief: first by distracting me on Friday night so that I didn't see the cat before Willie did. He caught me unaware, lunged for the cat, and ended up pulling me on my back across my mom's caliche driveway (NOTE: though either would be bad, do not confuse caliche with caliente). Luckily(?), only clothed body parts contacted the gravel, rendering my favorite cantelope-colored shirt hole-y (Holy?), but avoiding significant blood spilling. I subsequently managed to get the bag into the garbage lock up with the rest of the neighborhood garbage, only to have to go dumpster diving for it on Sunday morning in search of a Lowe's receipt that Walter needed. Very rarely does a bag of garbage bring so much to a relationship.

If you come here for light-hearted merriment, this is the point you should click the "back arrow" button on your screen.



You may or may not know The Treachery of Images, which is the painting pictured here.

You may or may not know its artist, Rene Magritte.

You may or may not read French (translation: This is not a pipe.)

Magritte was not purposefully obtuse. He wanted to make the point that his painting represents a pipe. No matter how real it looks, you can not stuff it and smoke it.

By the same token, Ceci n'est pas Erin et ceci n'est pas un avocado.

For me that is the most difficult hurdle to healing: the omnipresent realization that nothing I have, nothing I have saved, no remnant nor relic of Erin's life is Erin.

Given that unchangeable reality, I fall back on my only option: I find comfort in the essence of Erin and choose to appreciate what I had and still have rather than what I lost. This, my friends, is not like an afternoon in the park (either with Seurat or Carl).

Erin sent me a gift for her birthday. During the last fused glass workshop, she conspired with Jimmie Homburg and Janice Sahm to design a special fused-glass piece for me (I think as a mother's Day gift, but it didn't get done in time for that). This was something they could not fire in the "redneck" kiln in the church's microwave. It had to be taken to a real glass maker's shop a hundred miles from here. This photo doesn't do justice to its subtlety and beauty. It has texture that you can't see here and uses diachroic glass that gives it a particularly luminescent sheen. The way it's strung lets it hang exactly on top of my heart.

Remind

June 18, 2009

I know that you don't actually need reminders, but just in case you know someone who does:

1. You can still drop off food or beads for the Food and Bead Drive at First United Methodist Church in Bryan (506 E 28th St) tomorrow (Friday) afternoon (1:00-4:00).
2. You are all invited to the weekly lanyard workshop at my house at 3:00 tomorrow (Friday) afternoon.
3. There is still time to fill out your Erin's Health Insurance Survey. I know that a lot of your who read this page don't think I am talking to you when I ask for your help with this survey--your kids are healthy, you don't have kids, your kids left home long enough ago that you no longer fear the boomerang, you are perfectly happy with your insurance, you think that I just looking for complainers--but I am talking to you. Please consider taking three to five minutes to click and answer. Click Here to take the survey

This afternoon I received some of the digital images from Erin's cookbook photo shoot. I guess that's my reminder to make guacamole and mandarin orange cheesecake on Saturday.

Deputize

June 15, 2009

Honestly, I should choose "party" as the post title this afternoon, since I hosted three parties over the weekend. We had another fantastic beading party last Friday. Thanks Nico, Toni, Sandy, Devon, Sam, Lisa, Jesse, Jackson, Douglas, Colton, Aaron, Sarah, Beverly, and Patti, for expanding the lanyard, necklace, and eyeglasses chain collection! Hopefully, you'll come back this week and work some more.

Once I had worn their fingers to a nub, the evening party started, and what goes on at Leisure Lake at the after-party party has to stay at Leisure Lake. Suffice it to say, that most of the parents had a much better time not beading than their kiddos did beading.

Saturday night, we had an undisclosed-but-important-milestone birthday party for my mother. Kat and the beautiful Emma provided much of the liveliness, and by judicious use of candles, we didn't burn the house down. I can't tell you how fortunate I feel to have my mother as my friend and neighbor and how honored I was to throw her a party.


Despite the fun, I must have your serious attention for the rest of the post. If you have not lived in a well for large stretches of the past month, you know that lawmakers are finally getting down to the business of discussing (and hopefully acting on) health care. I have taken an unpaid position in Chet Edwards office for the summer researching health care insurance reform--in particular, the effect having or not having health insurance has on families that are dealing with diseases (interpret this broadly: it could mean rare or common illness and chronic or catastrophic illness, or accidents that require treatment).

Of all the things the Buengers had to worry about during the almost seven years that Erin was sick, insurance was not one of them. We never had to stretch the medicine that kept her from vomiting everywhere during chemo because we could only afford a limited number of doses. We never had to forego treatment or delay tests because a bureaucrat thought she knew something her doctors didn't. We never, ever made decisions about her health based on whether something was covered and something else wasn't. We didn't have to choose between paying our phone bill and our insurance premium. We didn't have to stay in jobs that stunk, or risk losing what coverage we had.

We were damned fortunate.

Having insurance didn't save Erin's life, but it sure made all the days before she died a lot easier and more enjoyable.

I would like to deputize each of you to help me collect information.

Let's start with some simple questions:

1. How does having or not having insurance affect your ability to get care?
2. How does having or not having insurance affect the rest of your family life--what trade offs do you have to make?
3. How does your child's illness and the availability of insurance affect your job status? Did you keep or lose your job? Did you have difficulty changing jobs?
4. What else would a reasonably informed person want to know about life style changes you had to make?
5. What changes to health care would help your family the most?

Please. No, let me try again. PLEASE help me.

How?

Send your answers to these question to me at ebuenger@suddenlink.net (NB: Mea culpa, I originally posted the wrong e-mail address. the one in red is correct. It is Erin's e-mail. I am doing this for her because she could never stand the thought that sick children didn't get care.). You do not need to give me your personal information, although I would love to know your zip code. After you have e-mailed me, do one more teeny, tiny thing:

Ask your friends and relatives and facebook compadres and website followers and neighbors and pew sharers to do the same.

This is as serious as I have ever been about any request of you. This isn't political. I don't have a horse in this race in the sense that I am pushing a particular reform. I just want to know what it's like. If you have had a great experience (with or without insurance), let me know. If it has sucked for you, let me know. Let me know what works and what's broken.

Consider yourself deputized. Spread the word.

Verbs Abound

June 13, 2009

The road trip didn't feel like vacation, probably on purpose. It doesn't yet seem quite right to vacation without Erin. So, I framed it in a utilitarian way. We needed to take Ruby to New York. On the way, we needed to pick up Davis. I had a little business to take care of in Washington (more on that next week), so it made sense to kill two birds with one stone. The sidetrip to Niagara was vacation-esque, but a three-hour layover does not make a holiday.

We played the license plate game, but clearly needed more skill on the team, because despite driving 3300 miles we did not collect all fifty states. In fact, we didn't even collect the lower forty-eight. Missing: Delaware, Vermont, and a whole slew of states from west of the Mississippi, although we did bag Idaho early on, which gave me hope that we would win.

One thing I noticed was how clean the roadsides were. I grew up when you always saw litter by the highway as you drove, no matter where you went. This commercial resonates in my memory:



Now, when you drive cross country, very little trash catches your eye. In Texas (and I think nationwide) this has been the result of a variety of initiatives, but mainly public awareness campaigns and voluntary efforts. We have "Don't Mess with Texas" and "Adopt-a-Highway" programs, and I have to say that these efforts have been remarkably effective, which makes driving all the more enjoyable. I have always thought that the highway litter problem is analogous to a variety of other issues: If everyone actually picked up their own mess, there wouldn't be any mess. I preach this to my students, so they don't leave soda cans, water bottles, and discarded newspapers junking up the room I where I teach.

Unfortunately, this personal responsibility argument does not apply across the board. Children with cancer will not recover just because they or even their families act responsibly. While we have a large number of people creating public awareness about pediatric cancer, and an even larger number of people voluntarily making donations and raising money to help, it is not a problem that will be solved by a good ad campaign and a cadre of volunteers. Its going to take a bigger, more far-reaching effort and a boatload of money.

Beyond this scree, verbs abound around here. I get almost daily reports of people who take Erin's inspiration to add verbs to their repertoire. Laura started riding her bike to work; Brooke climbed and marched and climbed some more; Becky has added reading to her daily life. I love hearing these stories and am trying to figure out a way to let people post when they adopt a verb.

The lanyard workshop idea has fully blossomed. For locals, this means that you come out to the house on Fridays at 3:00 to make lanyards and socialize. We had fifteen folks for the first one and a bigger crowd than that yesterday. Erin's Dream Lanyards (and eyeglass chains, necklaces, and coming soon, matching earrings) allow Erin's friends to keep her dream of finding a cure for neuroblastoma going. The makers also think it's a great way to remember Erin, and many of them have been adding a green bead to their creation to give each one the "Erin touch." I have a few outstanding orders (Sarah, do you have a color preference? Patti, it took me a while, but I finally figured out how to do a Rennaissance-style one for Brooke.), but mainly we are accumulating inventory for back-to-school. In the meantime, if you find you can not exist another day without one, please let me know, and I can set you up. ALSO, if you ordered one at some point, and I have overlooked you, please let me know, and I will fix that problem!

Next week, Erin will miss Creative Arts Camps at First United Methodist in Bryan. This fantastic program was always one of the highlights of Erin's summer. In her absence this year, the group will hold a food drive for the Brazos Food Pantry and also a "bead drive" for Erin's Dream Lanyards.

Erin is also missing Mo Ranch camp this week. Clayton Sue, Charlotte, Clarke, and Elle will have to keep her spot warm on the ropes course, the horse trails, and in the river.

Doggie Boarding

June 10, 2009

Call the ACLU.

Alert the International Red Cross.

Find me the website for the Geneva Convention.

Walter and I returned from our meanderings late last night and faced what someone in the prior presidential administration might euphemistically call extreme salutations or perhaps even harsh felicitations.

You see, Walter and I had been subjected to stress positions for fifteen hours (I don't know what else you would call being confined to a small space with no room to straighten your legs or stand). When we walked into the house, Willie and Teddy made us lie down in the middle of the floor. Then they slurped and licked our faces non-stop. I think the most hardened detainees can handle thirty seconds of water boarding before completely succumbing to the overwhelming sense of drowning. I didn't last seven seconds of doggie boarding before I started promising them steak tartar three times a day (or six if they wanted) and their own feather mattresses to sleep on and destroy. Who really knows the actual safe flow rate and volume of doggie spit so that the recipient doesn't drown?

To make sure we were completely compliant, they followed the lickfest with some rapid tail whipping (Willie's specialty), a barrage of jumping, circle-running, and furniture climbing to disorient us, and finished by planting themselves on our chests to immobilize us for more.

I guess there are worse things than being held prisoner by your dogs.

Random Walk (see footnote 1 below)

June 8, 2009

America is wonderful.  Yesterday, Walter and I were holding hands and strolling along the paths at Niagara Falls (both in America and in Canada).  Today, I'm about to quaff the last beer of vacation in Bowling Green, Kentucky.  The Eisenhower Interstate System:  what a great use of taxpayer money!

Here's a confession, when I come across a vacation entry on other people's websites (you know. . .on the first day we . . .then we. . .after that. . .), I barely skim them.  I know, someone has had the vacation of a lifetime, seen exotic and memorable things, and wants to tell me all about it.  Well, I'm going to assume everyone else is just like me, so for your benefit, I'm going to skip the details and give you a small random walk through our last eight days. . .you know the parts that would catch your eye if you skimmed the more detailed version.

• I saw an empty helicopter propped on the lip of a ridge right above highway 81 when I drove through Virginia.  It made me say HMM.
• Fifty-one minutes into the trip on the first day (that's how long it took for me to remember that I forgot my lap desk so that I could write thank you notes when it was Walter's turn to drive)
• Did you know you have to pay 50 cents to get back into the US from Canada?  I didn't and neither did the nice woman from the midwest, who had crossed the pedestrian bridge to take a picture without her purse.
• West Texas does not have a monopoly on wind generators.  We saw a wind farm in New York.
• If you choose your accommodations wisely in Erie, Pennsylvania, you never have to go outside (to eat, visit friends in other hotels, or spend the day at the local water park).  This would be handy if you planned to stay in the country's 13th snowiest city in the winter.
• You can wonder aimlessly around the Pentagon after dark without arousing suspicion if it is raining such a gully washer that even the MPs aren't on patrol.  Do not try that in dry weather or daylight.
• It is impossible for me to choose a favorite character from the new Star Trek movie, and I am only a little disappointed that rain scratched our soccer watching plans. 
• Yet again, the Buenger family agreed to meet at a restaurant that had closed down (no, we are not hungry idiots.  As has happened innumerable times before, we chose the restaurant and discovered its defunct-ness only after we arrived).

I'm told that the Let's Do It! Mission Weekend was a terrific success.  Thank you Tammy Raulerson for enlightening everyone about pediatric cancer, and thanks to all the participants for their good work.  

Walter and I still have miles to go before we can cuddle up the dogs.  By Wednesday, we'll all be doing the happy dance together.

(footnote 1:  Click here for the mathematical explanation of random walk)

Eat

June 4, 2009

Having a large Raffi collection even when supplemented by Sharon, Lois, and Bram and Trout Fishing in America, is overrated.  Nineteen years ago I made my first purchase of children's music to play in the car:  Raffi's More Singable Songs for the Very Young, that started with "Six Little Ducks" and finished with "New River Train."  That move eventually led to an almost complete abdication of control over drive-time listening.

Even after the kids didn't need "children's music" per se, they had grown used to choosing, and so I listened to The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Jerry Jeff Walker, Warren Zevon, Pink Floyd, and Paul Simon, ad nauseum.  Not bad choices in and of themselves.  As you can tell, I had some influence over their tastes, yet I wasn't the one who called the shots. . .ever.

Now my van has Sirius Radio with twelve preset stations:

1. The Sixties on Six
2. The Seventies on Seven
3. Classic Vinyl
4. Classic Rewind
5. Deep Tracks (lesser known cuts of better known artists)
6. The Spectrum (my effort to keep up with a bigger variety of music and artists)
7. The Coffeehouse (acoustic and singer/songwriters)
8. Margaritaville (totally relaxed with an attitude)
9. Outlaw Country (because I live in Texas)

and three news stations:

1. POTUS (politics)
2. CNN
3. BBC

I cycle among the twelve and can always find something decent to listen to.  In fact, one day recently (I can't remember whether it was last week or sometime this week as I crossed northern Louisiana, northern Mississippi, or northern Alabama--believe me those miles are all a blur), I was listening to Press Room on POTUS, waiting for Robert Gibbs (not an original Bee Gee) to come on and do his daily press briefing from The White House.  As I waited, listening to the filler drivel, the show host suddenly switched to breaking news:  live coverage of President Barack Obama ordering hamburgers for himself and the reporters that went with him at THE FIVE GUYS hamburger joint.  He paid for it himself:  80 bucks worth of burgers and fries.

Guess what we saw when we pulled up to our hotel yesterday?  Across the street from our Courtyard Marriott was Five Guys .  Guess what I had for dinner tonight:  a cheeseburger and fries, just like our President, except he had his with mustard, tomatoes, and jalapeno peppers, and I had mine with mayonnaise, tomatoes, lettuce, and pickles.  

Reveal

May 31, 2009

Walter and I hit the road today as scheduled and made it to Jackson, MS (our designated rest stop for the night). For those of you outside of Texas, it may seem odd that from our house we can drive in ANY direction for at least four hours before we get to any state border crossing. Follow the compass in most directions and it would take many, many more than four hours to cross into another state (or country, if you head south). Teddy and Willie were inconsolable when we left, inconsolable that is, until our replacements arrived later in the afternoon to hand feed them steak tartar and ribs. Thanks Payton! Thanks Travis! The dogs love to be coddled.

I really have nothing to report about the drive. So far, unremarkable (in the best since of that word). The main reason I logged on was to keep my promise that I would reveal the answer to last weekend's poll. Are you feeling confident? One of you should be.

That's right, the winning, totally correct, absolutely true answer was (a) Fruit cake. The Doolin family not only owned the Frito Company, they also owned a confectionery. Mother Doolin added crushed Fritos to the usual ingredients of candied pineapple, cherries, citron, lemon peel and orange peel, peacans, and blanched almonds. The author of the manuscript speculated "she probably decided to throw in some broken Fritos to extend the batter as well as add nutrition and the flavors of corn, vegetable oil, and salt to her loaf cakes (I added the emphasis).

Final vote:

fruit cake 1 (1%)

chili corn chip pie 22 (36%)

corn dogs 3 (4%)

ice cream sundae 1 (1%)

meatloaf 34 (55%)

Don't forget the "Let's Do It" Mission Weekend *click here and scroll down) comes up next Saturday. This is for all kids who have finished grades K-6 and a parental unit of their own choice and includes swimming at the end of the day.

Also, you may not be used to me posting two days in a row, so if you missed the Ode to Luke yesterday, you should keep reading.

Shepherd

May, 30, 2009

Luke Skywalker Buenger arrived just in time. He insinuated himself into our household in the summer of 1996. . .definitely there, but not particularly invited. Some neighbor across the road owned him, but seemed not to notice that he had changed residence (maybe Luke forgot to fill out one of those postal change of address forms, just like he forgot that his owner had named him Rusty or maybe he had signed up for the witness protection program).

By the time Erin was born the following summer he had become a permanent family member, much loved and fully adopted (and I might add, more than fully paid for). The first thing Davis noticed when we brought Erin home from the hospital was that "her hair was the color of Luke's ears." He was a prime specimen: four years old, born to swim and to lick children clean, no matter what they had left on their face. He loved the baby Erin (and thought he might pattern his life after Good Dog Carl):

He was always up for adventure and loved the water.


He was officially Davis's dog, and he adored Davis, but he was also a dog with a mission separate from Davis: Do whatever Erin wants, whenever she wants it.

Dress up like Erin's valiant steed for Halloween? You betcha.

Do an impression of Sister Bertrell as The Flying Nun? No problem.

Luke took this secondary job extremely seriously. Shortly after he turned thirteen, back in the spring of 2006, he had a major health set back that required heavy duty vet care, high quality meds, and a couple of months of water aerobics (they also recommended accupuncture, but we opted out). We knew that he had already passed the average life expectancy for a lab, and for most of the time since then we have expected him to just kick the bucket. Somehow, he just kept living. He ate well; until recently, he held his bodily functions until he was out of the house; he could mosey a little way down the road and back; his sniffer really worked. Eventually, his face turned almost completely white, but his ears remained the color of Erin's hair.


I don't know that he noticed when Erin died. By then, he was pretty deaf and blind. Still, I think he knew. I think he understood that although he was nominally a yellow lab, he was really a shepherd. . .Erin's shepherd. He welcomed her home from the hospital (at birth and many subsequent times), watched over her, and was there on the floor by the big green chair when she died. Having fulfilled his duty, he took a few weeks to make sure his other human charges were okay, then he too went peacefully along. He didn't make it to age seventeen, but he got close.

Muse

May 27, 2009

I've have read on other parents' blogs that they avoided the Lego aisle or the Polly Pocket aisle when shopping after their child had died.  This created a dilemma for me.  On the one hand, Erin remains very near to the surface for me, and I wouldn't want to deliberately trigger those inevitable meltdowns that particular memories could stir.  On the other hand, Erin had so many "favorite" things that if I worked to avoid public places that would put me at risk for having my memory stirred, I wouldn't go anywhere:  no bookstores, toy stores, or movie rental places.  No grocery stores or clothing stores.  She adored nurseries, so they would be off the list.  Hardware stores. . .she would browse until I made her leave.  The meat market?  You've got to be kidding.  Hobby Lobby?  Every aisle would be a potential disaster.  You get the idea.  

She wasn't necessarily a shopaholic or even particularly acquisitive.  She just found delight in the  beautiful, interesting, fun, or novel.  So, inevitably I have to go to those places.  And so far, no big mind fields.  

One day recently, I was pushing the cart through the grocery store.  

Produce section:  Do I put kiwi in the cart?  I'm okay with kiwi and so is Walter, but Erin was a big fan, and we're closer to indifferent.  No kiwi this time.

Soft Drink/Sports Drink Aisle:  Gatorade doesn't fall under the category of beer, wine, coffee, or water, which are really the only things that we actually drink.  No real need for Gatorade.  

Snack Aisle:  Do Walter and I really need Chex Mix or Cliff Bars?  Nah.

It finally hit me.  Not grief.  Not tears.  Just realization.  Kids give you permission to stock things that you like (salty/naughty snacks, sweets, ice cream confections), because you don't have to admit you want those things.  Having children (or someone else you can indulge) gives you permission to experiment, to try different options and more varieties, to buy treats.  Of course, you can still buy those sorts of things if you don't have children in the house, but you can't fool yourself into thinking you are doing it for someone else.  If you by a bag of Cheetos or a box of Butterfingers, they're for you.

Of course, all sorts of people have figured this out before me (single folks, empty nesters).  It really wasn't just about whether I was willing to indulge myself by adding treats to the cart or face the inevitably dullness of my basket.  It's about having to admit that the person I loved to dote upon is no longer dotable.  

I helped Shirlene with her Meals On Wheels route last week.  I remembered and asked after a couple on her route from previous times I had helped her.  The man would come out to the car to get their lunches.  He always had a cheerful remark and a smile.  Shirlene told me she didn't serve them anymore.  When his wife died, the man took his name off the list--like it was okay to get a meal for himself as long as MOW was delivering to his wife anyway, but he didn't think he deserved one on his own account.  

Shirlene worried about him.  He wasn't any less homebound than he had been before.  On her route days, she buys his lunch and delivers it anyway.  When I saw him on Monday, he seemed glad to have it.

I think that man lost someone that he took pride in taking care of.  This happens to a lot of us.  Sometimes death is the thief, but other things can bereave us and leave us personally and profoundly deprived of another person and the love that we shared with him or her.  

W.H. Auden wrote that "Love requires an object."  Our bereavement is not so much about what to put in the shopping cart or what aisle to skip in the toy store.  It's about admitting that the object of our love is gone and deciding to live anyway.

Nurse, Serve, Bead, Work

May 24, 2009

I have taken Let's Do It quite seriously lately.

Last week before Walter and I left town to judge at the state History Day competition, I had to do medical duty for Willie. He had developed a significant limp. I couldn't remember any significant precipitating event and when I manipulated his affected leg, he didn't wince or pull back. I kept expecting him to get better, when in fact he worsened each passing day. A complete vet exam and four x-ray's later we had a diagnosis: cervical stenosis. [Aside: I was slightly agog when the vet mentioned this as a possibility because I momentarily confused the concept of cervical with cervix. Luckily, I recovered my knowledge of anatomy before I said anything that would have labeled me as hopeless and signaled a high need for owner education.]

The polite vet thought that the condition might be congenital, and I didn't confess that I suspected that having compressed vertabrea in the neck came from Willie's reluctance to stop when he reached the sliding glass door if he saw what he calls "a squirrel of interest" in his line of sight. I wondered about the vet's powers of observation when he did not comment on the obvious plateau-like flat spot on the top of Willie's head. We have switched Willie out of his collar into a harness to avoid the obvious ascerbation of his joint and tissue inflammation cause by the way he gently leans on the end of the leash anytime I don't move the direction he want to go as fast as he wants to go.

By the time we returned from Austin, the anti-inflammatories and chondritin supplements seemed to have helped substantially. Willie's back to full speed now. Thank goodness?

Another bit of action going on around here is planning for the "Let's Do It" Mission Weekend *click here and scroll down). Previously, our church involved the elementary-aged children in a mission project every June (creatively called The Elementary Mission Weekend). This year it gained a new name in honor of Erin. Any of Erin's friends who have completed K-6th grade are invited to participate this year (even if you are not Presbyterian!!). The group will gather at 8:30 on Saturday, June 6 at the church for breakfast and a presentation on childhood cancer by Tammy Raulerson. Following the presentation, the kids and their parents will work on various mission projects at the church, including making lanyards for Erin's on-going project to fund neuroblastoma research. The day will conclude with swimming and pizza at the Thomas Pool Park. Leave me a message or email me if you would like more information for you and your child(ren).

Speaking of lanyards, we have had continued interest in making and selling beaded lanyards, necklaces, and eyeglasses chains:  I'm thinking about Erin's Dream:  Beaded Jewelry Inspired by Erin. To that end, I will have lanyard making workshops on Friday afternoons this summer at my house to build up the inventory for the start of the school year. You are all invited this Friday (May 29) for the kick off at 3:00. Parents are welcome to drop their kids off or stay if they would like to join in. Again, drop me a message or an e-mail if you want more information or if you have questions.

Finally, I am doing a few work-related things, even though I don't have to officially get back to my office until the fall semester starts. I've done a little committee work and some prepping for my fall classes. I am also reviewing a book manuscript for the A&M Press about the family that started the Fritos Company. If you look at the side bar, you will see a trivia question prompted by the first few pages of that manuscript. Vote in the poll, and I will reveal the answer to you next week.

Erin's kindergarten teacher reminded me what a wise-cracking kid she was even as a five year old. Here is Erin's autobiography from Mrs. Borski's 5's class in 2003, just as she was finishing up her initial treatment for NB (You'll note that some things never changed and other's changed significantly. You will also notice what a cradle robber I am):

Erin Channing Buenger is five years old and lives in Bryan. Her favorite restaurant is Gina's. She loves the Laura books, the color green, horses, and the song, "Swing Lo, Sweet Chariot." Her favorite thing at Kindergarten was the Gingerbread Hunt, and she learned the names of all the planets this year. Her favorite place to go on vacation is a farm. Erin's mom, age 60, works at the Business office at A&M, and her dad, age 20, works as the head person at the History office. When Erin grows up she will be 20 and she would like to be a veterinarian and a dog teacher. She thinks she would like to have four kids.

Commence

May 21, 2009

The ripples continue.  Erin's name came up at the Hooding Ceremony for graduate students at the University of North Texas last weekend.  Since she didn't last another twelve or fifteen years to earn her own master's or doctoral hood, we can only appreciate this address as an alternative earned honor.

Commencement Thoughts

Delivered on May 15, 2009, at the Hooding Ceremony at the Graduate School, University of North Texas

by Frances Brannen Vick

I was extremely nervous about speaking to you today. What could someone who started out life writing with a pencil on a Big Chief tablet have to say to people who started out writing on a PC or a MAC, and who wrote your dissertations on the same? To further show my technological ineptitude, I recently bought an iPhone, which I have no hope of conquering before my demise. Answering the blooming thing seems to be impossible at the moment. I could not even retrieve the voicemails that were left when I couldn’t answer the phone until my 14-year-old granddaughter showed me how to do that. What could such a person tell you who are of this new technological age? You are probably sitting out there texting right now, even as I speak, something else I can’t do. My messages come out in some exotic, undecipherable language because I cannot hit the right keys. So what could this archaic woman standing up here with her East Texas twang have to say to you? Thus my nervousness about it.

Then I heard Bob Schieffer say on May 3 that he was honored to be speaking at 3 commencement ceremonies this year and that he was quite eased about it because he knew that absolutely no one pays any attention to what is said at a commencement ceremony. And he is right, of course. I have no idea who spoke at mine or what they said. And rightly so. You are sitting there, as are your family and friends and professors, full of pride with what you have accomplished. You have worked hard to receive these hoods today. What an honor—for both you and for those who have helped you get to this day. So what I have to say is probably not of much consequence.

I do have one story to tell you that I hope will have some relevancy for you—that will strike a chord—and that you may even take away with you. I tell this rather simple story to you who have spent the last few years in intellectual pursuits that have been full of high-flown ideas and packed with thought provoking quests. This story touched me in a way I have not been touched in a long while and I thought the simplicity of it might come as a relief to you after your efforts to acquire your hoods.

Recently a good friend on mine had the terrible misfortune of losing his beautiful, intelligent 11-year-old daughter to cancer. This child, by the way, had been, among other things, an exceptional lobbyist for cancer research in Washington, D.C. She was so exceptional in her lobbying that her Congressman became a good friend and gave a eulogy at her funeral. She had fought cancer since she was five years old. She had done some remarkable things in her short 11 years. She was undaunted by what life had thrown at her. She is really a wonderful role model for the rest of us—an inspiration.

At the celebration of her life, I was taken with the words the minister said her parents had used in describing this incredible young girl. I was taken by it because I was an English teacher at one time and they were speaking my language. They said she was not so much a “noun” like girl, such as: “student,” “friend,” “soccer player,” etc. She was not so much an adjective girl: like “energetic,” “inspiring,” “caring,” “witty,” etc. She was more an action verb: Go. Do. Study. Visit. Play. Research. Make. Persuade. Love. Inspire. So my hope for you newly hooded graduates today is that you will be action verb people like my friend’s daughter. That you, too, will Go. Do. Study. Visit. Play. Research. Make. Persuade. Love. Inspire. What a well-lived life that would be. And what a challenge.

Life is just one adventure after another, if you are lucky. And you never know where you are going to end up. At least that has been my experience. You start out one place and end up somewhere entirely different. For me, it was starting out as an English teacher and ending up in publishing. In retirement I am doing something else altogether with the Texas State Historical Association, and according to my friends almost anything else that strikes my fancy and that I think is going to be fun. And “fun” is a key word here.

What you have done to acquire those hoods today should qualify you to do and be just about anything you want to do and be. You are in a perfect place to be an action verb. What a great future you have before you! And it will be a grand adventure. Keep all your options open and be ready to jump into what opens up for you. Be an action verb. But also HAVE FUN! You should be loving every minute of whatever it is you end up doing.

And one last thing. Do not forget your alma mater. After all, as the old folks used to say, you need to dance with the one who brung you, and, the University of North Texas did bring you to the dance! It brought you to this day of great celebration.

Congratulations to you. You have joined a sterling group of alumni who have gone before you. I salute you all—graduates, families, friends, and particularly the faculty, administration and staff who helped you get here today. Now my challenge to you is to go forth and follow the lead of an inspirational 11 year-old and be an action verb!

Judge

May 20, 2009

Walter and I drove to Austin last night to judge entries in Texas History Day today and tomorrow.  Amazingly, 1013 middle school and high school students thought enough of history to enter through their local competitions and qualify to compete in this state event, with hopes of qualifying for nationals.  AND, this was originally scheduled to take place on a weekend (postponed by swine flu), not during the week when the opportunity to miss class would be a driver.  

I don't have a lot of time to write.  I judged senior high group exhibits this morning. . .who knew that an exhibit on Joseph Stalin could be so compelling?. . .and will judge middle school individual performance this afternoon.  I am hoping that watching dynamic, charismatic middle school students will not be too excruciating.

We also have the great luck to have friends from all over the state in for judging, so tonight promises to be quite relaxing.

Thwart

May 15, 2009

The Ides of May. I actually had a lot of verbs to choose from today--bow, pluck, run, read, work, bead--but graduation weekend helped me make my choice: thwart.

I always think of Dustin Hoffman and The Graduate on graduation weekend in the spring. I was too young to see it in 1967 when it debuted, but it was one of the earliest grown up movies I got to watch. Somehow, I always remembered the exchange at Benji's graduation party:

Mr. McGuire: I want to say one word to you. Just one word.
Benjamin: Yes, sir.
Mr. McGuire: Are you listening?
Benjamin: Yes, I am.
Mr. McGuire: Plastics.
Benjamin: Just how do you mean that, sir?

And so I'm thinking about plastics today. More specifically about all those frustrating plastic containers that I can never open without resorting to the "jaws of life" tools that I keep around. I mean, Holy Mackerel, should you really need three types of cutters to get Polly Pockets out of their packaging? These thoughts crossed my mind last weekend when Sarah Radencic, Erin's science teacher brought Walter and me some gifts. Well, I didn't need special tools to open the tea kettle. I was completely equipped and experienced to open the bottle of wine, but the beautiful Mother's Day cake was a different story. It came in one of those "clam shell" type boxes made out of thick clear plastic, meant to show off the cake, but apparently, leave it hermetically sealed inside for generations.

Okay, I'm exaggerating. After some effort I got into the cake, but instead of devouring the whole thing at once, which I should have done, I took a bit and put the lid securely back on the base. This guaranteed that I would have to fight the good fight the next time I wanted a slice (which I did, leaving a metaphorical trail of blood, sweat, and tears on the counter).

Fast forward to Monday evening, when Walter and I were leaving for the awards ceremony. . .and hit pause for a little background:

We rearranged furniture sometimes in the last couple of weeks, moving Walter's Man Chair back into a prime television viewing spot for the NBA playoffs. It's a couple of feet from the kitchen counter. Shortly thereafter we started finding evidence that someone had been swiping things off the counter when no one was home. The swiped items were always food, not bills or dish towels.

We suspected something was going on, and since Luke is entirely too old, Uma is entirely too fat, and Willie is entirely too disinterested to mooch food off the counter, we figured Teddy was scrambling up the back of the Man Chair and making a desperate leap across to the counter to find goodies. Since then we've been pretty vigilant about putting away tasty morsels and leaving the counter Teddy-proof.

As we left for the awards ceremony, I asked Walter if we should move the cake back to the coffee bar area for safe keeping. He said that there was no way she could get into the container and to leave it.

He was right, but not for lack of trying. Apparently, Teddy did her high wire act from the back of the Man Chair (she's eight inches at the shoulder, the counter is 35 and a half inches high), leaped across onto the counter, noodged the cake onto the floor, and then she and Willie tried to get the better of it by biting it and rolling it. . . through the kitchen, the dining room, and then out into the living room. When we returned, we found it at the foot of the stairs:


As you can see (please click for a closer view), it withstood a three foot drop, alot of sharp teeth, and considerable rolling about. Score: cake container wins! dogs lose! "Drats," said Teddy, "My plans are thwarted."

This week has gone pretty well around Buenger house. Davis has wrapped up his second week in Washington. Walter returned to work on Monday. I've kept busy with a variety of things I have in the works, lunched with friends a few times, attended the Jane Long orchestra concert last night to see my buddies Noah, Abby, and T.J, and watched Colton pull in three blue ribbons, a red, and a white at his track meet this afternoon. Tomorrow I will pick up Elaine and Ian at the Austin airport, and they will be home from Australia for good. Mark, Nico, and Adam will follow on Sunday.

Speaking of running, some of you may be interested in clicking over to Grandpa John's website. He is running across Michigan (the long way. . .top to bottom) to raise money and neuroblastoma awareness. He is doing this for a whole lot of kids who can't do it for themselves.

Appreciate

May 12, 2009

The incredible staff at Jane Long Middle School keep surprising me with their love and kindness. I went to the end-of-school awards ceremony last Friday

Pause for a moment of explanation: I have asked all of Erin's friends to think of me like a favorite aunt and invite me to any aunt-worthy occasions, like performances, award ceremonies, or birthdays (for example), since it makes me feel very fulfilled to see Erin's friends and share their lives.

expecting to see all the usual suspects hauling in the awards. I wasn't disappointed. Erin hung out with the coolest kids, all of whom really groove on taking care of their business at school. What I wasn't expecting was to receive awards for Erin: a certificate for making the honor roll every time this year and another for maintaining above a 92 average in all her classes for the entire year.

Last night, Erin joined some of her classmates as they were inducted into the National Junior Honor Society at Jane Long. I just know she would have burst a seam. It was so her kind of event: a little pomp, a little circumstance, a lot of photo ops and hugs. Very meaningful to me and Walter, and bittersweet, as well.


Besides these two surprises, other folks have taken the appeal to Let's Do It! to heart. Last week Rachel Atwell sent me this email (and a photo saluting Erin, Christi Thomas, and another child that got lost somewhere on my hard drive. . .Rachel can you send it again?):

I'm an Erin fan from London (you might remember me from the Erin Project- I was the London girl who sent you the picture from the London Marathon last year!) and in a couple of hours time I will be a running in a 5km race for Cancer Research UK.

On Saturday, Clayton Sue and Ellen Benson did the ultimate: a mother/daughter triathalon, and sent this pic with the following message (which coincidentally leads me to ask the following philosophical question: which takes more guts, competing in a triathalon or letting a friend post your photo on the web in spandex and no make up? Either way you are super in my book!) :
:

Ralph has been working on a design that represents Erin that maybe we can use for different things and he tried it out on us at the tri. The butterfly is actually an E and a B for Erin Buenger. The antennae is supposed to look like an upside down cancer ribbon. Anyway, we thought they looked great!

I also received a link to a video that Rose Eder thought Erin would appreciate. I include it here because I think we will all appreciate it:





For any of you book-y types, I have added a link to my current reading selections on the left ribbon (you can roll the cursor over the book jackets so that you can actually see the titles, authors, and book summary). Comments and suggestions welcomed!

Slip Up

May 11, 2009

Thank you for sharing a laugh with me about the Mother of the Year award, and for the other gentle messages I received from you this weekend. I appreciated all of them, though I would have traded any one of them for a warning that the postal rates went up today, leaving me needing to buy a boatload of two cent stamps to pair up with my lovely 42 cent stamps of Wyoming (truly one of Erin's favorite places in the world, once she got over sharing that love with Wyoming's best known resident, former VP Cheney). Yes, before you say it, I did invest in a whole lot of "forever" stamps (they have liberty bells on them), but on the advice of Elaine, who really chewed me out for even considering to use my usual flag stamps, I bought a quantity of "meaningful" and "beautiful" stamps that I thought I could use up before the deadline. Oops. Letter writing never goes as fast as you think it will, nor do you ever start as quickly as you plan (I think these are both corollaries to the Law of Term Papers).

So, my mom and I did some meaningful things together yesterday. We went to church and lunch together (Gina's had a complimentary chocolate fountain and dippable strawberries for those of you who don't care for your chocolate straight up in a shot glass or tumbler.). We picked up three wheel barrows full of sticks and branches in the back yard that had blown down in recent storms to make way for the lawn mower. We also proved ourselves a few trumps short of a winning hand.

My mom, Super LTA (library technical assistant?), reads more than anyone I know. Every once in a while (usually on a weekend), she finds herself bereft of reading material and comes to my house to scrounge around for a book she hasn't read. Over lunch we had discussed a book that we had both thought she had already read, but as luck would have it she had skipped over it and read the next one in the series. I had bought it and read it and thought she would like it, so I told her to stop over later and get it.

So, it was no surprise when she came over later and asked for it. In fact, she said, "Just tell me where it is, and I won't interrupt what you are involved in."

Had I known, I would have told her, but I didn't . Since we have book shelves and nooks tucked all over the house, I just told her I would go and grab it for her. I went to the most logical place, then the next most logical place, then the third most logical place. No luck. I probed from room to room, ending up checking shelves in Erin and Davis's rooms. No luck. Eventually, I went back to the most logical place, and it had not magically appeared. I'm thinking, OMG, I'm actually going to have to clean my house from top to bottom because I have set a book down that I just finished reading about ten days ago, and it has sunken into the morass my house has become and completely disappeared. My mom was patient with me, and before leaving, asked casually if I might have lent it to someone. I told her I didn't think so, but maybe I had and had completely forgotten.

She went back home, and I returned to my desk.

About twenty minutes later the phone rang. My mom told me I had lent the book to someone. . .her.

She told me I could write about how both of us were slipping in our golden years, but only if I put a very flattering photo of her up with the story.

Glow

May 9, 2009

Erin is not the only one in the family to rake in awards.  Thanks to Lara Weberling for the nomination.  

(Apologies for the firewall problems with this video earlier.  I think it is fixed now, but let me know if it isn't.)

http://news.cnnbcvideo.com/?nid=H.CrWECih.gl4j2AznBTlzEyNTc1MjAy&referred_by=16103297-H76y_Rx

And if I were honest I would have chosen a different verb for the title of this post, perhaps chortle or guffaw.

Walk/Remember

May 8, 2009

Relay for Life. We will join the hundreds (thousands?) of good folks from the Brazos Valley who will gather tonight at the high school stadium to honor and remember their friends and family members who have had cancer.

Some of our friends organized a special memorial for Erin. Here's the way they put it on Facebook:

We will have a lap in honor of Erin at 8:30 p.m. on Friday, May 8. We are inviting all of Erin's family and friends to join us in a lap at Relay to celebrate her life and remember her. We know Erin loved green - so be sure and wear your green for her!

Everyone that wants to participate in Erin's lap should gather at the Field House at 8:15. We will take our lap at 8:30.

Please note: this lap won't officially be announced. So, we need to spread the word and let everyone that might want to participate know that we are doing this. Then, just gather at the Field House around 8:15. We'll take our lap for Erin at 8:30. See you then!!

I don't know if Walter and I would have made it out to Relay this year, but not for this special gathering of Erin fans. As it is, I will bring a handkerchief or two or six. The year that Erin was the honorary co-chair, and every year after that we attended, she would start off with the other survivors for the opening lap, but unlike everyone else, she and Nico would run the survivors lap. Every year she ran or walked 20 or more laps (depending on how long I would let her stay). Even the year I let her get up to 26 laps (six and a half miles), I had to force her, under duress, to get in the car and go home to bed. If you are a local, consider this your invitation to join us tonight to celebrate and remember the spirit of Erin and all of those dear to us who have faced cancer.

Here's Erin her first year at relay with my nephew Mark who survives lymphoma.

Laugh

May 6, 2009

I can't believe I missed a Cinco de Mayo post opportunity yesterday. For years, Erin, Nico, and I spent Cinco de Mayo (a rather regionalized holiday) at the Ronald McDonald House, eating some sort of volunteer-provided Mexican casserole, followed by a super-secret, no-moms-allowed craft project which always turned up the following Sunday or so as a special Mother's Day gift. This year, I didn't even think of the brave Mexican soldiers who defeated the much better armed French at whatever battle that was.

For those of you keeping track, Davis made it to DC last Sunday, found his lodgings, and immediately noticed how many bike lanes the city had. Poor Ruby, stuck in his closet here at home, until Davis's parents wend their way up to the northeast to reunite them and move them both up to Rochester for the rest of the summer. Drop me a note, if you know of a trustworthy pawn shop in the DC area that Davis might buy a decent road bike for the intervening time, OR if you live in the area and might lend him one with a tall frame for the month of May.

Walter and I are finding different ways to reflect on Erin and continue to love her. We have walked Willie, Teddy, Luke, and Uma to within an inch of their lives (a quick trip for the ancient Luke, but a pretty long journey for the vital and intrepid Willie) because walking the dogs is a pretty good setting for sharing time and thoughts with each other. I have also spent time in Erin's room (we should all have such spacious and well-appointed digs at some point in our lives). I listen to audio books (P.D. Wodehouse's Jeeves books currently) while I take care of correspondence and generally lay eyes on all the many aspects of Erin's personality represented in the treasures she kept. One thing I came across the other days reminded me of how opinionated she was about certain things. She had a notebook that she used in the last week or so of her life to write down thoughts she had (so that I would always know the exact plan, even if I wasn't in the room when she made the plan) about what was going to happen next. So the three pages of notes that she written about the trip to St. Joseph's for a red blood and platelet transfusion went something like:

(Page 1) Getting There (in bold across the top):

Column 1:

Pack items on list in next column in green shoulder bag (unless you need the black bag for more room. you can also use both)

Put motor cart in car

Carry my stuff to car

Carry your stuff to car

Carry me to car

Drive

Go through circle

Drop me and the stuff off

Park

Meet me in the room

Set up the room (see two maps on next two pages)

Get started

Column 2:

To Pack:

Rosie

computer

scrabble

boggle

book

shawl

4 movies, including Last of the Mimzies

Quiddler

whatever you need

The next two pages had detailed maps of how to arrange the beds, tables, chests, and chairs: option one if we got a single room and option two if we got a double room. It included instructions like: "Rotate bedside tray table parallel to bed with space for my chair in between the table and the bed. Pull out food tray extension. Make sure the lower side faces me. That is easier!"

I really don't think of her as imperious, but she did always have a plan.

Much like the Trappist monks, sworn to a vow of silence, in the following video had a plan to sing Handel's Hallelujah Chorus (note to self: oops that didn't turn into as smooth a transition as I had hoped). By the way, this composition, indeed the entire Messiah, debuted on April 13, 1742. Two hundred and sixty-seven years, to the day, of Erin's memorial service. She would have thought this video was worth six minutes of your time. Thanks Marsha!

Ignite

May 4, 2009

My niece, Loren Thornburg, has an e-mail ministry. She shares her personal reflections by email with Loren fans across the country and world. Here's an excerpt from her mailing a couple of weeks ago.

Unlikely Hero

You’re My Hero

You fight when there’s reason to run

You’re brave when there’s reason to fear

You go when there’s reason to stop

…You’re my hero

You believe even though it’s hard

You try even though you might fail

You play even though it hurts

…You’re my hero

You smile because you’re alive

You dance because you can

You dream because there’s hope

…You’re my hero

You live and never stop loving

You reach out and never stop caring

You push for more and never stop inspiring

…You’re my hero

My life is forever changed

The way it was no longer enough

I won’t, I can’t be the same

…You’re my hero

Heroes are those people whose lives call to ours. Their story speaks so loudly to our own we are ignited in such a way that we will never be the same. I have found that some of my greatest heroes are not world famous, they don’t hold a prestigious position or have great wealth. In fact the older I get it seems the people I want to be like when I grow up are getting younger. Because of these heroes how I lived, the way it was, is no longer good enough and so is true because of 11 year old Erin Buenger. Diagnosed at 5 with cancer, battling this disease for 82 months she fought without fear. Not because it was easy, but because she could. She could still smile, love, fight, encourage, believe, hope and live and that’s exactly what she did. When I think about Erin, mediocre is no longer good enough. The circumstances that once defined my life become not smaller because others are going through worse, but they become less powerful. I am reminded of her smile, her energy, her life in the middle of it and that calls to me, it speaks to me, it ignites me to more and now I won’t, I can’t be the same. . .

*********************

Thanks, Loren. You light the fire.

Sweat

May 2, 2009

And sometimes the only thing to do is sweat. . . which is the upside to living in central Texas in late spring and owning a large lawn.

NOTE BENE:  only a connoisseur can discern the taste difference between tears and sweat.

NOTE BENE DUO:  no, I will not mow your yard, too.

Unpack and Pack

May 1, 2009

Not nearly as inspiring as, well, "inspire" but totally necessary, and slightly more interesting than the other verbs I used today: pay (as in pay bills) and argue (as in argue with both my bank and AT&T about why I had a $260 EFT to AT&T from my account that I didn't authorize and that AT&T claims it has no record of).

Davis put his semester in the recycling bin and headed home to the microplex last night. Fortunately for him, he had the full volume of my van, less the driver's seat, to hold his one-semester collection of stuff that needed a lift home. Today he has spent some part of the day sort things to store for the summer or take with him when he leaves on Sunday.

I think the range of items he has to pack is relatively small. For one thing, he's sharing space with three other guys (sadness of sadness, there is no room for Ruby) and for another, he has to wear a coat and tie to work every day. Don't worry, Walter and I are planning a road trip to the northeast towards the end of the month to reunite Davis and Ruby and change out his dress clothes for the more casual wardrobe suited for a math intern.

Erin has been keeping me company for most of the week. I really needed her today when I was looking for a particular photo of Davis and Robbie for The Report. She had a great head for that sort of detail and over the years I just used her as an extra memory card. Now that I have lost my memory card, I have to do manual backups on everything.

For your planning purposes, locals should note that her friends have planned the following event at Relay for Life, one week from today (Thank you Jennifer for organizing this memorial!):

A Lap to Honor Erin Buenger

We will have a lap in honor of Erin at 8:30 p.m. on Friday, May 8. We are inviting all of Erin's family and friends to join us in a lap at Relay to celebrate her life and remember her. We know Erin loved green - so be sure and wear your green for her!

FErin's Lap - Relay For Life will be held at Bryan High School's Merrill Green Stadium (a.k.a. Viking Stadium). Everyone that wants to participate in Erin's lap should gather at the Field House at 8:15. We will take our lap at 8:30.

Please note: this lap won't officially be announced. So, we need to spread the word and let everyone that might want to participate know that we are doing this. Then, just gather at the Field House around 8:15. We'll take our lap for Erin at 8:30. See you then!!

Inspire

April 28, 2009

I have turned over in my mind what to do with Erin's Home (this blog) since she died. One option would, of course, be to end it with the last post and let it stand as a memorial to her and as a source of information for how one family lived with cancer for almost seven years.

Somehow that doesn't seem right (at least to me and at least right now).

Erin's physical life ended, but in so many ways, Ted's message to us during the memorial service got it exactly right. Erin's life, in all of us, is now about Going Forward.

I will keep posting with that in mind.

You may notice that I changed the header just a little. This is still Erin's Home, but now I call the page "Let's Do It."

"Let's Do It" honors Erin by repeating the phrase I heard her say so often. She didn't want to put things off until she felt better. She didn't want to wait until the weather improved or for the path to clear. I never felt her hesitate once she made up her mind. She always wanted to grab life by the throat and GO MORE PLACES AND DO MORE THINGS.

The phrase also challenges all of us (family, friends, distant and unmet friends) to continue down that path, to live with gusto, to live with grace, to live like an arrow flying towards its target, AND to do it together. Erin, as inclusive as anyone I ever met, would emphasize the all of us in Let's Do It.

I have also added a question to the header: what verb do you choose? My favorite metaphor for Erin is that she lived like a verb. . .an action verb. I don't know what you like to do, but if I can make a suggestion: choose a verb and go do it. Cook, drive, serve, run, laugh, hug. Work hard, play hard, inspire others.

I have heard from many of you (believe me, I'm going to write you all back eventually) and so many of you are telling me about the things you are doing (at least partially because Erin inspired you). We have friends continuing to make and buy lanyards on Erin's behalf, and friends who are redoubling their efforts to raise money for Relay for Life. But it's not just about cancer. Clayton Sue took on a triathalon last weekend. We have friends playing baseball, practicing the piano, skating, dancing, singing, riding trains, and more.

Me? I think I'll keep writing for a while (as long as I have verbs to report).

Obituary and Video

April 24, 2009

When Walter and I went to the funeral home two weeks ago, the woman there pulled out a form and told us she would help us write the obituary. I couldn't imagine fitting Erin's life into a standardized form, so I just smiled at her and said something like "Walter and I write for a living. I think we'll do it ourselves." I think she thought we were a little foolish. This is what we came up with. If you read all the way to the bottom, I have embedded another YouTube video that someone made for Erin (I say someone, because I can't figure out who did it). I can't think of a more beautiful gift that this person could give than to put together this loving video for us. The note on YouTube says to listen all the way to the end so you can hear Erin singing and laughing.

Erin Channing Buenger
June 20, 1997 – April 9, 2009 Erin Channing Buenger, 11, of Bryan died peacefully at her home on the morning of Thursday, April 9, 2009. A visitation and celebration of her life will be from 6 to 8 p.m. Sunday, April 12, in the Fellowship Hall of First Presbyterian Church, located ay 1100 Carter Creek Pkwy. in Bryan. A memorial service will be at 2 p.m. Monday, April 13, at the church. Erin entered the world full of joy and energy in Bryan on June 20, 1997. Her bright red hair, beautiful smile and zest for living life to its fullest marked her as special from the beginning. She attended Covenant Presbyterian Day School, Mary Branch Elementary and Jane Long Middle School where she was part of the Inquire Academy. Erin earned nothing but A's throughout her years in the Bryan schools and even during her difficult last few months continued to work hard at every subject. Indeed every subject fascinated her from art to mathematics. At age five Erin was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a difficult to cure form of childhood cancer. She lived 82 months with the disease, but she never let it slow her down. She lived to the end without fear. Erin worked diligently to increase federal funding of children's cancer research and became a zealous and successful Congressional lobbyist. Cancer, however, never defined her life, and she passionately pursued her interests in softball, horseback riding, creative arts, cooking, and many other things. She played soccer with intensity and verve and was a member of the Mystic '97 competitive team. Unable to play the past few months, she turned to new things. Her last week of life she designed and created fused glass art pieces and directed the making of lanyards to raise money for the Children's Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation. What defined Erin most was her relationship to other people of all ages. She formed close ties to many that she met at school, church, through her trips to Washington, and during her lengthy treatments in Houston at Texas Children's Hospital or at local medical facilities. Her smile and warmth made each of her many friends feel special, and her empathetic spirit, understanding, and insights were a balm to them in troubled times. Certainly Erin displayed typical human failings and foibles, and she especially did not suffer fools and foolishness gladly. Still she left behind an example of how to cope with adversity and a model of how to live each day to the fullest. Her parents, Vickie and Walter Buenger, brother, Davis Buenger, and grandmother, Madge Luquette, all of Bryan, survive Erin, as do many aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. Her parents, brother and grandmother wish to thank the relatives, friends, coaches, trainers and teachers who contributed so much to Erin's joyful life. Special thanks go to the numerous health care providers who over the years did their best to keep Erin well, including Jesse Parr, Beverly Nutall and the rest of the staff of University Pediatrics in Bryan-College Station, and Heidi Russell at Texas Children's Hospital in Houston. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Erin's Let's Do It Fund at the First Presbyterian Church of Bryan or to the Children's Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation/Lunch for Life. To express sympathy and learn more about Erin, go to http://erinbuenger.blogspot.com. If you have a special memory of Erin, please consider joining The Erin Project.

Service Recap--Part III

April 23, 2009

Davis headed back to Houston yesterday to take his finals. Spanish today and everything else is on a customized timetable (not just for Davis, but for everyone). That's the way a lot of the classes go. Each final can last up to five hours and class sizes are prettysmall, so students make arrangements individually. Some professors can't write a final that students can finish in five hours. For those situations, I think they fall back on projects and papers.

I can't really tell you how our days go. We seem to fill them with tasks, some meaningful and many meaningless, but on the whole I think that's better than falling into an abyss. I have taken Janice Pinney's advice to try and accomplish at least one thing each day. Yesterday, I remembered to renew my automobile insurance (which was set to expire by the end of the day). Talk about a meaningful task and just-in-time! Since I sent Davis back to Houston in my van, I think this was a pretty good save. We manage to watch The Rachel Maddow Show most weeknights, though if I miss the 8:00 broadcast, I don't always stay awake all the way through the 10:00 showing. I know I live in modern times and could watch it right on my computer anytime, but I find relief in actually making myself follow the evening programming schedule. We have also kept up with eating (though we don't do as well with keeping the dishes cycling through the dishwasher and back on to the shelves).

I have certainly enjoyed hearing the little vignettes of what people have accomplished (only partly) because they kept the concepts of "Going Forward" or "Let's Do It" or some other Erin inspiration in their heart. Congrats to Brooke for passing her comps wearing her Erin lanyard and to any of the rest of you who worked or played a little harder today with Erin in your heart.

Amazingly enough, this has been a remarkable spring for birds (I think the drought has kept some of them around here longer than they normally would stay, just so they can have a ready source of libation from the lake). We have a pair of Canadian geese cavorting around, a whistling duck couple that never leave each other's orbit, and possibly some very shy wood ducks. I got to add a new bird to my life list (okay, my life list of bird spottings is incredibly short, because I am just not very good at looking in the right place at the right time): a painted bunting. You can see why this is special:


I think this is the last entry about Erin's memorial service. I have managed to get the service bulletin into a form that I can upload, and I wanted to end on the music, which did so much to capture the true light touch that Erin passed through life with.

This is the bulletin cover:


Jane Van Valkenberg played a Robert Hobby arrangement of Beethoven's Hymn to Joy as the prelude. Erin could play a much simpler version on her piano, but it was a piece that we both enjoyed--simple or enhanced. I don't have an audio file of the particular arrangement Jane played, but you can click here: Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee and scroll down to play a midi file of the tune (I have included links to midi files for all the music in this entry. . .unfortunately none of the audio is actually from Erin's service. I think a recording of the service may exist but I haven't taken the time to track it down yet).


The entire church filled with voices during the first hymn, I Danced in the Morning. Even though it was hard to face the Chancel full of brightly dressed Erin lovers and sing this song without completely falling apart, I did. Erin and Davis both loved this hymn and would belt it out, any time, just so they could sing the chorus. It's one of the few hymns I know just by its number in the hymnal (#302).


Walter and I had hoped the Youth Choir could sing in the service, but knew that they probably had nothing "funereal" prepared. Erin died right before Easter weekend (a busy time for our youth because they do the entire sunrise service, plus a fundraiser pancake breakfast for the church). How delighted we were when we found that Esther Carrigan, their director, had a tune already worked up that we could have: We Walk by Faith and Not by Sight. Our next worry was that our youth choir is actually a quartet, a very talented quartet, but how could we ask four young people to stand alone in the chancel and sing out? Somehow, the quartet morphed into something much larger, and we got to see the largest assembled youth choir I have ever heard in our church. They truly sounded like a choir of angels. The Chancel Choir and the Witness to the Resurrection Choir (I like to think of this as Choir Plus!) joined the youth up front, not to sing the anthem, but to have their backs in what must have been a difficult task of sitting face out to the brimming full sanctuary of Erin fans.

The second anthem featured the organ and violin and the hymn tune, Nettleton. Walter and I requested this piece, which in the hymnal is called "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing." This recording doesn't really do justice to the beauty and life that Carl and Jane infused this anthem with, but all the other recordings were just toooo slow. I think Jane actually composed the violin accompaniment that Carl played, so if you weren't there, just imagine a foot-stomping fiddle setting the tempo to this absolutely enchanting song.


We chose "For All the Saints" as the last hymn, because I always felt so uplifted when my brass group played it on All Saints Day. We didn't have an entire brass ensemble at Erin's service, but something even better: John McSpadden, trumpeter extraordinaire, played. And man, did he play.

We ended the service by walking out to Handel's "Hornpipe" from Water Music. Walter and I got shepherded down to the Carter Creek Foyer to hug the line of Erin lovers. In the meantime, Jimmie Homburg took Erin's Sunday School class out the front of the church to do a butterfly release (look for a later entry about why I can't stop laughing every time I think of this event). The afternoon was a little chilly for the butterfly tastes. They didn't charge out of the box, but lingered, seemingly wanting to be part of the experience.