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!