Pointing is cricket

Posted on 30/October/2012 by John McCrarey

I’ve observed quite a bit of controversy during Cricket matches lately. And it always revolves around the same issue–pointing. Or to be more precise, what some folks consider “excessive” pointing.

To state the obvious, pointing is a strategic part of the game. Everyone has an opinion on darts strategy it seems, so here’s mine.

To begin, there is no rule limiting how much or how often you or your opponent can throw points. Accordingly, the best way to keep from being pointed, excessively or otherwise, is to close your numbers before your opponent does. Granted, that’s easier said than done, but complaining about someone’s points is well, pointless. You’ve got to take care of business at the oche.

Since no one in my circle of darters is likely to be appearing on ESPN anytime soon, we are all going to be faced with the issue of when and how much to point. Some of that will depend on the game situation and your foe, but there are some general rules of thumb I think apply in most circumstances.

1. Being ahead on points is a good thing. A very good thing. As long as you have more points on the board than the guy (or gal) you’re playing, you can’t be beat! How many points should you be ahead? Depends on your comfort level. I personally like to stay up by 2 bulls (that’s 26 points if you’re counting properly). Your mileage may vary, but I do believe there is such a thing as too many points. I’ll discuss that a little later.

2. Make all your darts work for you, especially that third one. Let’s talk this through. Say you open the game with a single 20 and then hit the triple with your next dart. What are you going to do with that third one? Yeah, yeah, you’re going to throw it at the board, but where on the board does it have the most value to you? The experts (at least the ones in a book I read when I first started darting) say you should expect no more than a single mark on any given dart. Which makes sense when you consider the odds. If I get one triple out of 3 darts on average, I’m throwing damn good. And I think that’s true for most of us ~~grunts~~ amateurs.

So, should I use my last dart for a single 19 or stay on the 20 for the points? I’d rather have a 40 point lead and no 19s, than 20 points and one 19. Here’s why. Let’s say your opponent answers with a 5 mark on 19s. You are still up on points, with the 20 closed. That’s pretty good shape. And here’s what I’d do next, I would try to close the 19s. If I hit a single 19 and then miss on the second dart, where is my third dart going to have the most value? Back up top! If I’m up by 22 points, my foe will need two 19s before he even thinks about working on closing the 20s. I pretty much stick to that strategy all around the board–if I can’t close a number with my third dart (again, assuming I’ll throw a single) and I have the opportunity to throw it for points, that’s where it is most likely going.

3. When is enough, enough? As stated earlier, you’ll find your own comfort level. If I’m up by a couple of numbers (or god forbid, down by a couple) I’ll alter my strategy accordingly. I’ve seen a lot of really good players once they get up on points make that third dart “work” by throwing at the bull. I’ve been on the wrong side of that strategy a few times, and trust me it is disconcerting to be down on points and seeing the bulls get closed mid-game.

And remember this–sometimes points just happen. You (or your foe) is going to hit a triple when a single would suffice. And we’ve all seen those irritating occasions when a shot at the 15 turns into a slider triple 17 for points. Ok, well it’s not so irritating when you have the “good luck”, but the point is that its nothing to get overly upset about.

4. Winning is the point. I play to win. And like most people, I really don’t like losing. If I get beat by a superior player, thems the breaks. If I beat myself, then it’s on me. Darts is a funny game in that while you are playing another player, it really comes down to you and board. If you take care of business at the oche, you’re going to win your share of matches. If you let what your opponent is doing with his darts get inside your head, you are likely going to lose. And if your opponent figures out that throwing “excessive” points is going to rattle you, well, guess what? They are going to throw those points.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like it much either. But rather than get mad, I try to get even. I said earlier that as long as you are up on points, you can’t lose. But on the flip side, until you close all the numbers and bulls, you can’t win. So, someone throwing points they don’t need instead of working on closing numbers they do need to close is actually doing you a big favor. In my head I’m always saying “thank you for keeping me in this game!” You don’t always come back when you are down a hundred or more points, but as long as you have an open number to shoot at, you’ve got a chance to win. A few timely bulls or some trip 15s eats up a big points lead real quick. And I see exactly that happen pretty damn frequently. So, I say let them point and thank them after you take the W.

5. Darts is a game. A game usually played in bars. By people in various stages of inebriation. And maybe at times we take it all just a little too seriously. I guess I’d just remind everyone that we are supposed to be having some fun at this game. I understand that some of us are more competitive than others. But getting angry is counterproductive to throwing good darts, so there is really nothing to be gained from going down that road.

Darts is a game, but I don’t think it’s a “gentleman’s game”. There are good darters and bad darters. Nice people and not so nice people play the game. People have different ideas on how to play the game, some are good (mine) some are not (theirs). See what I mean? Play your game and let them play theirs. You can’t make your opponent play it your way. If they take a bad strategic approach to pointing, it’s on them, not you. Don’t take it personal and by all means, let your darts do your talking!

I’ve seen some really stupid stuff. Like the guy who threw for points needing only one bull to win. That’s just plain ignorant. And probably unsportsmanlike. Don’t be that guy. And more importantly don’t let that guy drag you down to his level.

Let me finish with a story about me. I was playing a person who is not only an outstanding darter that I admire and respect, but also a friend. In a tournament cricket game he opened with a 9-mark, all 20s. And I was pissed because to my way of thinking after 60 points, I’d have moved on to another number. Of course, an angry darter is a crappy darter and I lost the match. Afterwards I said some words I almost immediately regretted. After I calmed down and apologized we had a nice talk. He said he was really surprised by my reaction. He said he stayed on the 20s for two reasons: he was “feeling” that number and he respected me enough as a player to figure out he was going to need those points to beat me.

And that’s really the lesson in a nutshell, isn’t it? Make the third dart work for you and don’t take it personal. One man’s “excessive pointing” is another man’s show of respect.

On the beach

Posted on 22/October/2012 by John McCrarey

No, I’m not talking about the fine Neil Young song. We made a weekend sojourn to Naksan Beach on the sea that is not of Japan but is instead simply East.

In the past I’ve always driven but seeing as how I don’t have a car here now, we took the bus. We had the Express direct to Sokcho and hopped another for the short ride to Naksan. About 3 hours total (not counting 50 minutes on the subway to the bus terminal).

We did make one comfort stop along the way. I was a little nervous when I saw that we were in “Gang Land” but I didn’t spot any Crips or Bloods, so it was all good.

As is our custom, Jee Yeun took charge of securing our beachfront lodging. Our regular place only had one room available (we went with another couple) and most of the places wouldn’t discount their prices (getting a cheap room is a matter of honor to Jee Yeun). Apparently, October is still high season at Naksan because of all the folks enjoying autumn colors at Seoraksan coming down to the beach to sleep. We wound up getting both nights at the place pictured above for W125,000, a reduction of W15,000 from the initial asking price. Score!

The view from the room.

The aforementioned other couple, Lonnie and Jaime.

And yes, here is the evidence that I was in fact on the beach. But not in the water.

Truth be told, there’s not a lot of nightlife in Naksan. So, we made our own–Korean style. Which is defined as drinking beer in front of the 7/11 store and watching the people pass by. It is actually more fun than it sounds.

There must be 50 places serving fresh seafood in Naksan. Three of us weren’t feeling fishy, so we found the one place that served samgyupsal. We cooked it up with garlic, kimchi, and onions and it was indeed a tasty treat. And no worries, Jee Yeun got her raw fish the next night.

Next morning we made the short hike up to Naksansa, the famous Buddhist Temple. You can read some history, including the tragic fire of 2005, at the link. The hilltop setting overlooking the ocean is really incredible.

It ‘s probably bad form to take a photograph of Jee Yeun during worship, but I tried to be discreet. If I ever prostrated myself like that I’d never be able to get back up.

Jee Yeun also paid her respects to Haesugwaneumsang (Bodhisattva of Mercy), known as the goddess Gwanseeum-Bosal (no, I don’t know what I’m talking about, I lifted that from Wikipedia).

Did I mention how beautiful it is there?

Lonnie is the bald miguk in this picture.

Lonnie and Jaime pause to reflect on the beauty of their surroundings while contemplating the deeper meanings of life. Me, I was just trying to catch my breath.

The temple bell. Being the irreverent punk that I am, I couldn’t help but imagine how it would be if you put a man between the clanger and the bell. Talk about a nutcracker!

Naksan Beach as seen from the temple grounds.

Jee Yeun replenishes the water bottle for our trip back down the mountain. Or hill as that young whippersnapper Lonnie called it.

So, while Jee Yeun and I napped, Lonnie and Jamie taxied out to Seoraksan for more hiking. Later on we reconvened at the convenience store for some beer drinking. Up and down the main drag these horse drawn carriages hauled smiling Korean folk while blaring “Gangnam-style”. One time of that was more than enough, believe me. But what we saw was even more distressing. These were not even full size horses, and they were pulling heavy carriages fully laden with people. At a fast trot. That’s what got to me. I’ve done carriage rides, but at never more than a walk. With strong draft horses doing the pulling. These little guys were huffing and puffing, and in the two plus hours we watched they never got a break. Lonnie couldn’t take it anymore, so he bought a huge carrot which the horse pictured above surely did enjoy. Then it was back to work for him and we moved on to the beach to burn some ~~money~~ fireworks.

We were feeling the craving for some beer with pizza to wash it down, so we did that. I was also getting close to drunk enough for some…

…norebang! Ah yes, Saturday night is not complete without the traditional Korean singing room. I’m told that when I sing folks can literally feel my pain. Or maybe they just feel pain. One of those.

And all too soon our quiet weekend on the beach was drawing to an end. We caught the bus in front of the local K-Mart. It was not the express bus to Seoul, in fact it was the direct opposite. We crawled at a stop-and-go pace all the way over Seoraksan and down into the valley below. Once we reached the 4-lane things hadn’t much improved so the driver made an announcement in Korean which must have been “hey, hold onto your seats, I know a shortcut!” Lordy, lordy, we were back in some mountains and this time it was a one lane road. Which our bus amply filled. Fortunately there was not much traffic, but when we did encounter another vehicle they’d pull over as far as they could and we’d somehow manage to squeeze by.

Ah well, six hours later we were back in lovely Seoul. And so ends this tale of adventure from Korea. Stay tuned!

Every picture tells a story

Posted on 25/September/2012 by John McCrarey

Alright, today I introduce a new category of posts here at LTG entitled “Journey through the Past”. As old men are wont to do, I find myself thinking frequently of the past. And I’m often surprised at just how much I’ve forgotten about my life. Sometimes when I get together with old friends or the kids they’ll tell stories that I would have never remembered on my own. It seems to me losing your memories is an especially sad thing because what are we except a collection of what we have done, places we’ve been, and events we have experienced?

I have boxes of photographs, mostly stored away safely in the garage. When I return to the states next year I have good intentions about sorting through them and uploading the ones that trigger a long-forgotten memory. And then I’ll tell the story. I have no illusions about these stories holding much interest to anyone who happens upon this woebegone blog of mine. But then, I’ve been blogging for going on seven years with little of interest to say. I’d call that a freakin’ tradition!

So, let’s get on with the first story in “Journey through the Past”, shall we?

That’s my son Kevin at 2 years of age back in 1980. We were living in the beautiful mile high city of Prescott, Arizona. I was carrying mail for the Postal Service and was president of the local branch of the National Association of Letter Carriers. I was big time into softball in those days, and founded the Mile-Hi Softball Club, the purpose of which was to drink beer and play ball, pretty much in that order.
But enough about me (ahem). We had purchased our first home at 202 San Carlos Road and life seemed like it could go on that way forever. Turns out it didn’t of course. Things happen, but just as importantly, things don’t. And it was one of those things that didn’t happen that I remembered when I saw that picture of Kevin.

As you can see by the Google Earth map above, our street was a narrow dirt road. About 1/8 mile up from Gurley Street, one of the main thoroughfares in Prescott. You can kinda sorta tell that Gurley has a curve on both sides from where San Carlos enters. This made entering Gurley pretty treacherous as you couldn’t see oncoming traffic until it was on top of you.

One day little Kevin got it in his head to go visit the house where we used to live. On the other side of Gurley Street. The Deputy Sheriff who found Kevin standing in the middle of the road with traffic swerving to miss him said it was a miracle he hadn’t been hit. I’m not really a man of faith, so as much as I’d like to believe in guardian angels and Providence and such, I’m thinking it was just pure blind luck that Kevin lived to be the fine young man and father that he is today.

Had luck (or whatever it was) not been with us that day, everything in my life would be different, and not in a good way. Being a parent is without a doubt my greatest accomplishment, but oh how it makes you vulnerable to the whims of fate!

And that’s the story I remembered today.

Makin’ Aiken

Posted on 16/September/2012 by John McCrarey

These past several days I’ve gotten off my lazy ass and worked at practicing my dart game. The picture above represents the highly coveted and rarely thrown 6 bulls (aka “three in the red”, “triple double”, and “lucky bastard”) which I accomplished yesterday. Of course, I threw it in practice which is pretty much meaningless. But Jee Yeun was excited enough about it to snap a photo, so there it is.

I can definitively report that the old saw “practice makes perfect” is pretty much pure bullshit. However, I’ve seen some evidence that practice does in fact help you improve. I’ve found that my inconsistency is somewhat less consistent, which is to say that I totally suck less often than usual lately. Obviously, I’m pretty darn happy about that. I’m still throwing bricks (three darts, no hits) more than I’d like, but the triples seem to be coming more than they used to, and as any darter will tell you, a few triples can mask some otherwise terrible throws.

So, Wednesday night was the finale of the Puddlin’ Duck league here in Columbia and we played it out as ten man (well, nine men, one woman) singles event. I had the good fortune to prevail in spite of myself and that victory gave me enough points to be crowned league champion (although there is technically no crown awarded). I unseated my nemesis James Mabie, but to be fair he wasn’t there to defend his ranking these past few weeks.

Feeling inspired and full of confidence (not to mention bored with sitting around the house) we made the drive out to lovely Aiken, SC to partake in the blind draw tournament at the VFW post. I’ve been meaning to get out there and give it a try for several months, but one thing leading to another and all (a nice way of avoiding the word “lazy” don’t you think?) I hadn’t had the opportunity. I’m so damn spoiled by public transportation in Seoul that I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around the idea of driving over an hour to get to a darts match. But the reality is that Columbia is pretty much a darts wasteland, so it’s drive or lay on my amazingly comfortable couch perusing the thousands of programs available through the miracle of Netflix and satellite TV.

There’s lots to like about the VFW venue. 10 boards, cheap beer, very friendly people, indoor smoking, some excellent players, and almost everyone seemed to be having a good time. I’m always somewhat uncomfortable my first time in a new dart bar. I don’t know anyone, no one knows me, and I feel pressured (totally self-imposed) to throw well so I don’t come off as a total dweeb. Consequently, I usually come off as a total dweeb. I remember my first night at the Puddlin’ Duck hearing Jee Yeun telling people “really, he’s usually a lot better than this!”. Sweet girl, always has my back.

But last night, folks were coming up and introducing themselves and telling me how glad they were that I’d made the trip out. Just good old fashioned Southern Hospitality. I also had the good fortune to draw a solid partner and we seemed to find away to pick each other up when the need arose (which means, when I had a bad throw, he didn’t and vice-versa). We fought our way through the winners bracket, had some real battles against players we probably wouldn’t normally beat but did, and came away with first place money. When I hit the double 9 out for the win in the finals, I couldn’t help but dance a little jig. Gangnam-style, of course.

As you can see my partner David was ecstatic about our victory.

It was after one in the morning when we got out of there. My Garmin took me through 20 miles of dark narrow highways before finally leading me back to the Interstate. Between Aiken and Columbia, I passed one car with a what I assume was a drunk driver (he was driving in the left lane under the speed limit with his bright lights on) and was passed by one. Ah, the open highway! Oh yeah, my odometer hit 55555 during the drive home. That passes for excitement on the road at 2 a.m., at least for me.

And so ends my tale of dart prowess, long drives, and a pretty damn fine Friday night.

Coming clean about my criminal past

Posted on 13/September/2012 by John McCrarey

I’ve been arrested and spent time in jail. OK, I’ve now admitted it and it feels good to let go of the burden I’ve carried all these years. Hopefully you’ll agree I’ve paid my debt to society in full and despite the disappointment I’m sure this revelation must cause, I humbly beg your forgiveness.

Why am I coming clean now? Well, I’ve been sorting through some of my parents’ old papers and I came across the indictment. I swear, they saved everything. But it was more than a little disconcerting to find evidence of my criminal past tucked away amongst the crudely drawn cards and elementary school photos.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll share the text of the charges levied against me:

“On or about July 4, 1973, at 18900 Gothard Street, Huntington Beach, County of Orange, [John McCrarey] did willfully, unlawfully and maliciously disturb the peace and quiet of Mrs. Hal Westley Shirey by offensive conduct, and the use of vulgar, profane, and indecent language, in a loud and boisterous manner, in violation of Section 415 of the Penal Code of California.”

I was found guilty, fined, and released with time served (about 4 hours in a concrete holding cell). No one appeared to testify against me other than the arresting officer. But the judge kept talking about some woman I’d never even heard of, a Miss Demeanor. (bada bing).

Now, as bad as those charges sound, I was not completely without justification for my behavior. Here’s the rest of the story:

It was Independence Day and my girlfriend, Gail Weed (yes, real name), and I were planning on enjoying the Huntington Beach 4th of July parade. Gail was driving (she had a sweet ’65 Mustang Coupe). Finding a place to park was a bitch, and for some reason they had blocked off Gothard street with a single barrier saying “road closed”. We observed several cars driving around the barrier and I told Gail to follow them as there may be a place to park down there.

So, after bypassing the barrier we went down a slight hill and at the bottom were several police cars. And they were issuing tickets to everyone who had taken the detour. Yes my friends, it was a classic trap. We were set up like bowling pins. Back in those days I had a bit of a temper, and I was pretty pissed about being suckered in such a fashion, especially on America’s birthday! After the girlfriend received her ticket and we were driving away I expressed my opinion about the whole situation by leaning out the window, extending my middle finger, and shouting in “a loud and boisterous” manner FUCK YOU PIGS!

Apparently the First Amendment doesn’t cover the heartfelt expression of speech in this fashion. We hadn’t gotten a mile down the road before the police helicopter was hovering overhead. And then a cruiser was behind us with red lights flashing (they were red, not blue, in those days). We pulled over and were then surrounded by no less than three police cars! Shortly thereafter the cop who had issued our ticket arrived and announced “yeah, that’s the sonofabitch”.

I was pulled from Gail’s Mustang and was required to answer a series of questions. One of them that I remember was “do you have any scars, tattoos, or other identifying marks?” I responded that I had a Battleship tattooed on my ass, and when I shit, it sinks. That seemed to really make him even more angry, and the next thing I knew I was being thrown up against the the police car, my arms were roughly yanked behind my back, and they slapped the handcuffs on me. Then it was off to the jailhouse. For the record, I don’t really have a tattoo.

Dad came and bailed me out a few hours later, and he was even madder than the cop had been. Which is why I found myself living on my own at the tender age of 17. But that’s a story for another day.

Anyway, keeping things in perspective, I take solace from knowing that there were numerous occasions of certain other acts in which I regularly engaged that the state deems criminal and for which I was never arrested. So it all balances out in the end, doesn’t it?

Who, me?

Uncle Bud

Posted on 22/August/2012 by John McCrarey

While I was in Memphis last week I got to spend some time with my dad’s brother, Bud. He was wearing an 8th Air Force ball cap so I asked him to tell us about his service. From his enthusiastic telling of “war stories” it seemed clear that the time he spent on those B-17s were among the best years of his life. He told me about training to be a pilot, eventually washing out, and then being sent to gunnery school. Which is how he wound up being the belly gunner on the B-17, which he called the best damn plane every built.

He got to England late in the war and flew 19 missions before the Germans capitulated. He said the guys in the early days had it a lot worse because they didn’t have the P-51 fighter escorts that he enjoyed. Even so, he remembered having one of those ME-252 fighter jets in his sights for a brief instant, but it was too fast to keep a bead on. He was glad that they never faced them in force.

Their biggest problem was flak and it was apparently pretty scary stuff. The got hit frequently (he said after one mission they counted over 100 holes of varying size in the fuselage). And once they took a direct hit over Germany, it killed the navigator and severely injured the co-pilot. They lost both starboard engines which made it difficult to control the planes and maintain altitude. They managed to make it as far as Belgium where they crash landed. Apparently the Germans had pulled out only days earlier and they made it back to London without being captured.

Anyway, the thing he told me which really struck me was this: They would normally fly a mission in 3 day rotations, sometimes more often depending on the targets, and less depending on weather. Duty rosters were posted on the lavatory door (I guess so everyone would see them eventually). And if your name appeared on the roster, you didn’t make any plans. I said why, so you could prepare? And he said “no, because everyone always assumed they wouldn’t be back.”

I can’t imagine the courage these guys had to have.

This is not Uncle Bud’s plane, unfortunately I don’t have a picture of his.

To the sea

Posted on 18/August/2012 by John McCrarey

My dad, Walter Lee McCrarey, grew up in Memphis. My grandfather was a riverboat captain, and like him, my dad loved the Mississippi. Dad also spent most of his adult life sailing the oceans of the world with the U.S. Merchant Marine. In fact, he first went to sea at the age of 15 in 1942 serving on the freighters carrying precious war cargo to the UK.

Dad wasn’t a particularly religious man, nor did he have much sentimentality regarding his mortal remains. Many times he reminded us that it wouldn’t make a whit of difference to him if we threw his dead body on the curb when he gone. Instead, we donated his body to the University of South Carolina Medical School in accordance with his wishes. When the medical students were done with him, he was cremated and the ashes were returned to the family.

Well, I was mindful of the fact that he didn’t want any big deal made of his remains, but I nevertheless had a box of “cremains” staying in my house and I wasn’t satisfied with that arrangement. In consultation with my brothers, it was decided to place some of the ashes at mom’s grave site (she was sentimental that way) and the rest would be deposited in the Mississippi river where they would eventually make their way to sea, just as he had so many years ago. And so that’s just what we did.

Dad (standing, 3rd from left) with some of his buddies on a fishing expedition. I’d like to imagine it was near the same spot on the river where we deposited his ashes.

Dad in his early days with the Merchant Marine.

In his later years at sea he was still keeping those big engines turning…

And he never lost his love for the open sea.

Brother Keith carrying dad’s remains to the riverside.

This is the spot we picked to say our final goodbyes.

Keith recited one of dad’s favorite poems:

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

–John Masefield

And then we poured him into the muddy waters of the Mississippi river.

So we said our goodbyes in the best way we knew how. And then we went on with the business of living.

Time, flowing like a river…

Time, beckoning me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river
To the sea

Goodbye my love,
Maybe for forever
Goodbye my love,
The tide waits for me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea

Till it’s gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

Goodbye my friends,
Maybe forever
Goodbye my friends,
The stars wait for me
Who knows where we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea

Till it’s gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

Cremains of the day

Posted on 17/June/2012 by John McCrarey

It’s Father’s Day so of course I’m remembering dad.

Home more than a week now and still adjusting to my American life. For example, in Korea I stayed up until 2 a.m. and slept until 10. Now, I sleep at 10 p.m. and wake up at 6. I guess 8 hours is 8 hours, but I seem more tired these days.

Here’s what has been happening since my return:

The house was still standing. All the plants I planted last year are dead. All the weeds Jee Yeun pulled grew back.

At some point during my absence the GFCI in the garage tripped. Which shut down the refrigerator/freezer in the garage. Ever smelled really rotten fish? Not pleasant at all.

Grocery shopping. I confess I do enjoy the quantity of selection of foods I really like at my local Publix supermarket. Seven bucks for a huge watermelon put a smile on my face. I paid W20,000 for melons 1/3 this size in Korea.

And Jee Yeun was similarly happy shopping at the Korean market.

Made a pulled pork bbq dinner for the kids.

Played and won at darts.

Caught up on A LOT of TV shows, including watching both seasons of Game of Thrones. Still have a shitload of stuff in the queue.

Started pulling the “additional documentation” requested by the Immigration Service together. This included getting Jee Yeun’s family documents translated and printing a boatload of photos from Facebook to demonstrate the long term nature of our relationship. Uncle Sam is such a worry-wort. Anyway, should have everything ready to mail next week.

Spent time with the newest grandchild, Sydney. She likes her watermelon just like granddad.

Paid my property taxes. Which were due in March. And which I tried to pay before I left in February, but the assessment “wasn’t ready”. So, I got socked with penalty and interest fees.

Watched it rain for a couple of days. And got the oil changed in the car.

And I picked up dad’s “cremains” from the University of South Carolina School of Medicine. It was a strange feeling carrying what’s left of dad home in a box.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Winding it down…

Posted on 31/May/2012 by John McCrarey

One week left to go in this segment of my Korean life. It’s been a nice stay. Reconnected with some good friends, ate lots of good Korean food, had a great time playing darts, and drank plenty of OB beer.

Still on tap is a big dart tourney on Saturday, the dart league championship on Monday, and I reckon we’ll slip in a few more grilled meat meals between now and Incheon.

One of my accomplishments, if you can call it that, has been to finally accept and embrace this life of unemployment. It’s been 18 months since retirement and I’ve struggled to find meaning and purpose in my life. I still haven’t found any, but I’m embracing the freedom of workin’ at nothing all day.

I also wanted to get my dart game back and I’ve pretty much done that. I wound up ranked 5th in “B” division, which I suppose is just about right given my general inconsistency. I’ve hit some good marks, including a couple ton-80s, and won 2 of every 3 legs I threw, so yeah, I’m satisfied.

It’s always sad to leave this country I’ve come to love, but I’m also looking forward to a taste of my American life, which includes my kids and grandchildren. Not to mention on-demand television.

It’s interesting to live part time in two countries. It’s also easy to feel like you are always in between two lives, never quite being a part of either. I’m working on that though.

Remembering Private First Class Frank D. Foltz

Posted on 27/May/2012 by John McCrarey

My Great Uncle Frank occupies the small piece of ground in Hamm, Luxembourg pictured above. He was the brother of my Grandmother Pernie, and she spoke about him frequently enough when I was growing up that I still recall his story. My brother Keith who is the keeper of family history also reminded me of a few details of Uncle Frank’s life.

Frank Daniel Foltz was born on the family farm in Goltry, Oklahoma on August 25, 1910. He was the youngest son and the 11th child of John and Mary Foltz. He was just a little more than six years old when his mother died, but by all accounts, he grew up to be a fine man. Handsome and good natured, he was a star athlete in high school, especially in baseball.

Frank was married with a young son and working as a Railway Mail Clerk when he was drafted into the Army in 1944. He was trained as a mechanic and shipped out to England in December of 1944. When General George S. Patton was making his great push into Germany he called for “men, more men, more men!”. Frank was deployed to the 3rd Army as a replacement and on March 3, 1945 was killed by a German sniper, just a few short weeks before the war was to end.

Grandma Pernie was a good Christian woman with love in heart and forgiveness for all–except she could never quite bring herself to forgive “Blood and Guts” Patton. As she was wont to say–“Patton’s guts, Frank’s blood”. Of course, this was unfair, soldiers in war get killed, that’s just the way it is. Frank was just unlucky. He had been deferred from the draft for most of the war because of his job and child. When manpower shortages necessitated expanding the draft, he was taken at the relatively old age of 34 (the maximum was 38). But mostly I think he was unlucky because he had the misfortune of being a “replacement” troop, a group that suffered a notoriously high casualty rate. As Army historian Rich Anderson noted:

“At the other end of the replacement pipeline, replacements were trained by replacement centers (or stripped from divisions), shipped as anonymous replacement increments to a theater of war, and held at the repple-depple until needed by units. These men were military orphans with little esprit de corps and no cohesion. Many thought of themselves as replaceable parts in the giant army “machine,” or as rounds of ammunition. The sole virtue of this system was that it allowed divisions to stay in near continuous combat for days on end, theoretically without eroding their numerical strength. As casualties left, replacements came in. However, the reality became that replacements came in, and with no combat experience and no one in their new unit looking out for them (the “I don’t know him and don’t want to know him, he’s only gonna be a casualty” syndrome), they quickly became casualties.”

So, that’s Uncle Frank’s story. Just one of the 416,800 Americans killed in action during World War II. But on this day we set aside to remember all the men and women who have answered the call to duty and made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of our nation, I wanted to honor his memory.

Thank you for your service.

And he’s one more arrow, flying through the air

One more arrow landing in a shady spot somewhere

Where the days and nights blend into one

And he can always feel the sun

Through the soft brown earth that holds him

Forever always young.

That’s close enough to perfect for me

Posted on 08/April/2012 by John McCrarey

I had a good Friday (ahem) but yesterday was really special.

It started with the mid-season dart tourney at Dillinger’s Bar in Itaewon. I had the good fortune to draw Sam Heyward as my partner and to also throw a tad better than I usually do. We had the misfortune to face Paul Winterburn and his partner who were pretty much unstoppable. They knocked us out of the winner’s bracket but we fought our way back to face them in the finals. Alas, we came up short and had to “settle” for second place money (W180,000).

I did have the pleasure of throwing a ton-80 for the tourney high which was good for another W20,000. It was just a tiny bit sweeter because it topped Paul’s ton-50. Paul got his revenge I suppose by beating me in the high mark shootout.

But the bottom line is I had a great time throwing against some outstanding players, hanging with some friends, and of course being cheered on by my number 1 fan Jee Yeun.

And that’s not all!

After darts we (the Werner’s, the Scheepstra’s me and my sweetie) went out in search of some food to mix with the copious amount of beers previously consumed. The tables in the galbi house we prefer were full and none of us felt like sitting on the floor (I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to get back up). So, we tried a new to us back alley barbecue joint and enjoyed some galbi, samgyapsal, ukgaejang, daenjangigae and the traditional sides. Which we washed down with chungha and more beer of course.

The dinner table conversation (of what I remember) is not fit for recitation here. Suffice to say the Werner’s were in classic form, Lonnie was instigating, Jee Yeun was telling tales out of school, and Jaime was quietly pondering what the hell she had got herself into. In other words, we laughed our asses off.

But wait, there’s more!

After dinner, we trekked over to the local norebang to flex our vocal chords and butcher some popular songs. I opened with the classic Bee Gees tune “I started a joke” and scored a perfect 100. This, for some unknown reason, sent my counterparts into fits, screaming such nonsense as the “fix was in”, “no way” and “you’ve gotta be kidding me”. (I was drunk, but I never forget an insult!) Suffice to say, NO ONE sings the Bee Gees quite the way I do.

Anyway, for the rest of the evening the group tried in vain to beat that first 100 (heck, even I couldn’t replicate it). Jaime came close with a 98 on a sweet Korean song. Bridget and I were robbed on “Knock three times” (I know, I know. But Bridget loves Tony Orlando and Dawn). Lonnie and Chris were certain they’d hit it with the evenings final song “Hotel Califorinia”, but alas, they too fell short.

Oh, and we drank more beers.

Then we all managed to catch taxi’s with surprising ease and an almost perfect day (damn you Paul) came to an end.

Happy Easter!

Of running machines and egg burgers…

Posted on 07/March/2012 by John McCrarey

So, courtesy of a kind friend I scored some comfort foods from the commissary, including hamburger patties.

And the first thing I asked Jee Yeun to make me was one of her famous “eggaburgers”.

You got your 1/3 pound hamburger patty, a fried egg, lettuce, ketchup, and cucumber on toast. I first experienced this treat one drunken night from a street vendor in Itaewon. Good as it was, no one makes an eggaburger quite like Jee Yeun’s.

I guess the irony is that I was enjoying this delicacy immediately after getting doctor’s orders to lose weight. Since it doesn’t appear the diet part of the equation is likely to succeed, Jee Yeun called a second hand store in Uijongbu about a treadmill. Actually, she calls it a “running machine”. I don’t know if that is a literal translation from the Korean or just a “Jee Yeun-ism”, but it always cracks me up. So, the store has three for us to choose from and we make plans to go up for a looksee today.

Last night Jee Yeun’s mom came by for a visit. Now, we live on the 5th floor. There are two elevators, one stops on even floors, the other odd. For some reason Oma decided to go the the 6th floor and walk down. And on the 6th floor landing she spots a perfectly good ~~treadmill~~ running machine just sitting there looking for a home. So, Oma comes in all excited and Jee Yeun gets equally excited, makes me turn off the TV (Band of Brothers, D-Day episode) and go have a look.

Well, like I say, it looks perfectly fine but there’s still the question of ownership. Jee Yeun puts a note on it and goes downstairs to ask the security guard. The guard says the people in #608 didn’t have room for it and he’d be happy to see it moved out of the vestibule. Jee Yeun confirms with the folks in #608 that the treadmill is in working condition and that we can take possession.

That turned out to be the easy part. Because of course we still had to get this contraption from the sixth floor into our fifth floor apartment. Now generally speaking when folks move big heavy furniture (or running machines) into high rise apartments, they bring it in through the window using one of these:

A furniture escalator not being an option, Jung bae (Jee Yeun’s daughter’s boyfriend) and I managed to wrestle the treadmill down the flight of stairs (technically two half flights, but who’s counting?) and park it at the entrance to our apartment. That’s another thing about Korean apartments, the front doors aren’t very wide. Which I guess is why they use the window, duh. Well, we tried every which way to maneuver the damn thing through the door, but like OJ’s glove, it just didn’t fit.

I had two thoughts at this point–an understanding that when the folks in #608 said they didn’t have room for the treadmill they must have meant they didn’t have room to get it through the door. And that paying to have a treadmill from Uijongbu delivered was looking like the best possible option.

Koreans love a bargain, and Jee Yeun and her mom were not about to let this freebee get away. So Jung bae (bless his heart) removed all the screws holding the control panel in place (I supervised, which is consistent with my professional training). Screws removed, it still took some yanking, pulling, prying and possibly breaking to get the top removed. Once more we tried every which way to get it through the door. It almost fit this time, but we still needed another half inch (or its metric equivalent) clearance. Damn.

Looking back on it, it was kinda comical I suppose. My Korean is about as good as Dong bae’s English. In her excitement and frustration, Jee Yeun wasn’t being much help as a translator. But in the end I was able to get across that maybe removing the motor cover would free up enough space to make it through the door. I’m not that brilliant really, it was just the last f’n piece that could be removed without a blow torch. And yes, with the cover off we were able to just squeeze it through the door.

I then proceeded to relax while Jung bae reassembled the running machine.

Ain’t she a beauty? A bargain at half the price. Just looking at it I can feel the pounds melting away. That’s how it works, right?

A trip to the grocery store Korean style

Posted on 12/February/2012 by John McCrarey

Carrying on with the theme of the same yet different, here’s a little photo essay of our visit to the neighborhood food market. Get More Information by visiting this store to get a wonderful experience.

The market is conveniently located across the highway from our apartment. It’s an easy enough walk even on a cold day. Like many large businesses in Korea, it’s on the basement level. You can check out smartfoundationsystems.com to repair and upgrade your basement. The ramp instead of stairs is a nice touch though.

Not exactly your Publix or Kroger layout, but if you look around you can usually find most of what you need…

…like the recently dead fresh fish on ice. We didn’t buy any this week, but Jee Yeun will be frying some up one of these days soon I’m sure.

To the left is your dairy and sort of deli, although nothing that you’d expect to find in a deli back home. To the right is stuff like snacks and dry goods. Dry goods including seaweed of course.

The meat counter. Beef is especially expensive in Korea and we rarely partake here. Pork and chicken is how we swing.

Pork or chicken goes down good with a refreshing Korean brew. You don’t often see cases of beer or even six packs. Quarts and individual cans are more in keeping with the Korean style of pouring and sharing…

Semi-familiar breakfast cereals. I’ve tried the Frosted Flakes and I think Tony is saying “they may not be Great but they’re still pretty darn good”. Or something.

Paying the piper. Those groceries plus a 20kg bag of rice cost me about 120 bucks…

The part I like best about Korean grocery shopping is the free delivery right to your doorstep!

And now you too have experienced grocery shopping in Korea…

On the water

Posted on 06/January/2012 by John McCrarey

Had a great start to the new year visiting my seafaring friends Rod and Patty Headlee.

They purchased this 43′ sailboat in Annapolis, MD and were completing refitting at the time of our visit in New Bern, NC.

Ain’t she a beauty?

I believe the name Second Chance derives from the fact this boat originally manufactured in 1969 has been completely refurbished and made seaworthy for her new life as home to Rod and Pat in whatever location the winds of fancy may carry them.

This is the forward stateroom where me and Jee Yeun spent the night. A little cramped but comfortable. We were rocked to sleep by the gentle motion of the marina waves and serenaded by the singing of a stiff breeze through the rigging wire. A slightly larger stateroom aft is where Rod and Pat quarter.

The head. It’s operation was just complicated enough that I’d usually make my way out to the marina lavatory. There is also a small shower to the left which went unused during our visit.

The dining area featuring Sebastian the seagoing cat. Notice the net full of snacks hanging above. The boat was provisioned for several weeks of sea travel, so every nook and cranny was filled with the necessities for a self-contained life.

The galley featured a stove with oven and a bread maker…

It takes a big man to admit that he is probably not “right sized” for long term living at sea on a sailboat.

No TV on board but we did enjoy a little live music.

We trekked into New Bern where Jee Yeun made a beary nice friend…

Rod bought some supplies at this old fashioned hardware store. A much more pleasant experience than shopping at Home Depot, that’s for sure.

We lunched at this popular local eatery and then said our farewells. Rod had been closely monitoring the weather for a good 3 day window to make it down to Florida. The seas can be treacherous off Cape Fear this time of year. The had hoped to be in warmer waters by October but the refitting took longer than anticipated. They plan to spend a month in the Bahamas and after that probably the west coast of Mexico. Their home port is Los Angeles, but they really love being in the South Pacific, spending a lot of time in Pago Pago and American Samoa.

I really respect their success in living the life of their dreams. I do not envy that lifestyle however. A life at sea is really hard work. When sailing, someone must always stand watch. And maintaining the boat and it’s critical components is a never ending chore. I guess I prefer a life of ~~sloth~~ ease. Now, we might fly in to visit them in some exotic port of call, but from my perspective, sailing in a little boat in a big ocean is more scary than romantic.

On the drive home, we spent the night in North Myrtle Beach. Winter is the best time of year at the beach in my opinion, mostly because I had crowds.

America’s East Sea as viewed from our crappy (but $40 per night) ocean front room.

Jee Yeun enjoys her coffee and the Carolina sea grass.

The temperature was right at freezing and there was a cutting ocean breeze that chilled to the bone. It was so cold that the seagulls flocked around Jee Yeun trying to keep warm.

But there is something to be said for the solitude of the oceanfront in winter.

Into the great wide open

Posted on 01/January/2012 by John McCrarey

So, the end of 2011 is upon us. It was not a good one for the McCrarey clan. My mother and father both passed away, and earlier this month, so did their loyal dog entrusted to my care. I also dealt with the transition to retired life and the surprisingly difficult task of adjusting to living in the USA after six mostly wonderful years in The Land of the Morning Calm. On the plus side, a beautiful granddaughter (Sydney Renee) joined the family. And so of course, the circle of life continues.

Today I completed the surprisingly extensive paperwork associated with an application for a fiancee visa so that my sweetheart Jee Yeun can stay with me wherever I’m living. I checked the hours for my local post office and confirmed they stayed open until 2:00 p.m. It’s funny, I’ve procrastinated for weeks on getting the visa application together but once done, I wanted it out in today’s mail, by god! So, I arrived at the post before 1 o’clock only to discover they closed at noon for the holiday. And there was no wind, rain, heat or snow to delay those postal people from their appointed rounds.

Not to be deterred, I drove on in to the Main Post Office in downtown Columbia. Much to my chagrin, I discovered that that office does not open at all on Saturday, and especially not on New Year’s Eve Saturday. So, I dropped my envelope in the collection box out front which promised a 3:00 p.m. collection. Whether or not that’s true, my mission was accomplished.

And then a question came to mind. If by some magic you could be shown your future life, would you want to view it?

Now I know that is not a unique or profound thought. But what prompted the question was looking up at that fourth floor office I occupied from 1986 through 1993 when I was working for the Postal Service. Back in those days I’d sometimes gaze out my window and watch the happenings on Assembly Street, the major thoroughfare in my adopted Southern city. I saw Pope Paul, President Bush the First, and Governor Campbell motorcade by, but mostly it was just the hustle and bustle of the ordinary citizenry going about the business of what I presumed were their ordinary lives.

And today I wondered what would the me of back then have thought upon seeing the me of today mailing a letter of such importance and yet its contents were beyond my wildest imaginings just a few short years ago. I hope I would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Despite all the hopes and dreams and best laid plans, we are after all destined to live in the moment. I never envisioned this life that I’ve lived turning out as it did. The detours and heartbreaks and disappointments all inevitably led me back to this place, but changed me almost completely from who that man looking down from the window way back then. And I don’t just mean those extra pounds around my belly. All those experiences that I never planned for, dreamed about, or even knew that I desired have not necessarily made me better, and I certainly hope not worse. But this is who I have become, and I am glad for it.

I’m not going to answer my own question directly because I don’t know if someone had shown me the road ahead back then that I would have had the courage to follow it.

So, I am looking forward to the new year. And I know that there are things I’d like to see and do. But I’m thinking I’ll just take it a day at time and see what happens. Doing it that way has worked pretty well for me so far I suppose.

Speaking of plans (and proving my point), I was going to take Jee Yeun out to Myrtle Beach for a little R&R to start the New Year. And tonight I get a phone call from my old (aren’t we all?) high school friends Rod and Pat Headlee. For the past few years they’ve been living on a sailboat and traveling the world, mostly in the South Pacific. They bought a new boat in Annapolis, and after outfitting it so they can sail to warmer climes, they are heading south. Their journey has begun with the Intercoastal Waterway and they are currently docked in New Bern, North Carolina. Which as fate would have it is where we are going to be tomorrow instead of Myrtle Beach.

You just never know what’s in store, do you? I guess that’s the way I like it.

Happy New Year everyone!

Swampland

Posted on 29/December/2011 by John McCrarey

So, the day after Christmas dawned sunny and warm (low 50s) so I decided to take the GF out for a visit to South Carolina’s only National Park. Congaree National Park is only about 30 minutes from Columbia, so let’s go!

What they call “old growth bottomland hardwood forest” is actually swampland. Now, when the trees are in their summertime glory they form a beautiful natural canopy over the forest floor. And a perfect breeding ground for pesky mosquitoes. The wintertime advantage is as shown above.

There are numerous hiking trails throughout the park but we opted for the very easy 2.5 mile boardwalk loop.

According to the park brochure, the lush trees growing in this floodplain forest are some of the tallest in the hardwoods in the world.

Of course, they didn’t look to “lush” on December 26. But they were tall. Now, I have seen the Sequoias in the Sierra Nevada, so when you are talking big, everything is relative. I recall that when I first moved to the South I sent a friend a postcard of the Smoky Mountains. She wrote back and said “you call those mountains? Folks sure do exaggerate back there!”

Bottomland.

Jee Yeun enjoys the view at Watson Lake.

Two and a half miles was about all I had in me on this fine winter’s day.

And so ends this tale.

Finished with engines

Posted on 28/May/2011 by John McCrarey

My father died today. He spent the better part of his life as an engineer with the Merchant Marine. It is a maritime tradition that when a member of the engine department passes away he is said to be “finished with engines”.

My father had been in failing health for some time but if pressed to identify the cause of death I’d have to say he died of a broken heart. Losing mom after 61 years of marriage took both an emotional and physical toll. I think he survived as long as he did so he could be there to take care of mom. Without her his life lost meaning and purpose.

He was 83 years old and by any account he lived a long, and often hard, life. He was nothing if not strong willed. His passing was inevitable but I was surprised by how quickly he went in the end. I believe he just decided it was time to go, so he went. By all accounts it was a peaceful and easy departure. Perhaps that’s the best any of us can hope for.

His desire was to have his body donated to the medical university. After jumping through some bureaucratic hoops today we were able to make that happen. Dad was always generous in his own quiet way and certainly wouldn’t want a big deal made of his parting gift. And he made it very clear that a big funeral was not for him. So I hope this simple tribute will suffice to do justice to his memory.

Dad, you were an amazing man and truly one of a kind. You’ll be missed by all who knew and loved you.

My father was a lover of poetry and some of my earliest memories are of him sitting in his easy chair reading his favorite poems out loud to us kids. And I distinctly remember him reciting this one on some long ago day:

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me;
“Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.”

–“Requiem” Robert Louis Stevenson

Hanging on by a thread

Posted on 07/May/2011 by John McCrarey

No, the blog is not dead, on life support perhaps, but not dead.

The fact of the matter is that I just don’t have anything much of interest going on these days. And what little I’ve had to say, I’ve said on Facebook.

I’ve pretty much finished all the major house projects (or at least I have exhausted all my discretionary funds). And I’ve got a nice, comfortable place to call home. Best of all, it’s paid for. In this economy, that’s better than money in bank. Or so at least I keep telling myself.

My dad has some pretty serious health issues. He has a condition called temporal arteritis which has caused him to lose vision in one eye and impaired the vision in the other. It appeared for awhile he may go completely blind, but six days in the hospital for intravenous steroid treatment seems to have stopped the progression of symptoms. He’s extremely weak and unstable however, so I make daily visits, do his shopping, and drive him to his doctor appointments.

I’m still playing darts twice a week and I’m throwing about as well as I ever have. Which is not great, but I don’t have the frustration that comes from under-performing. Darts is really the extent of my social life, and it’s something I look forward to each week.

Had a visit from some old friends from high school, Rod and Pat Headlee. Our paths seem to cross every few years and we get the chance to catch up on what’s happening and reminisce about the glory days. I must admit that their life is much more interesting than mine. They live on a 42′ sailboat and regularly travel the big water to exotic locations, mostly in the South Pacific. They had some really amazing stories about their adventures. We have a standing invite to join them on the boat for one of their journeys. Truth be told, I can see myself meeting them in Pago Pago and doing some day trips around the islands but I’m not sure I’m up for a blue water excursion. We’ll see.

Jee Yeun seems to be adapting well to life in America. Although she’s a big city girl at heart, and as far as cities go, Columbia is a burg compared to Seoul. She’s a trooper though. She’s been out digging in the back yard for the past couple of days removing weeds and such. I think she must enjoy it, but she did tell me the other day that she hadn’t planned on becoming a farmer when she moved to the USA.

I’ve also enjoyed getting to see the kids and grandkids on a semi-regular basis. And I have a new granddaughter in the hatch, which will be my son’s first child. She’ll be born right about the time I get back from Korea.

I’m really looking forward to spending the summer back in the Land of the Morning Calm. Jee Yeun says I miss Korea more than her. Maybe that’s true. I miss my friends and the lifestyle, that’s for sure. Of course, I recognize that things will be different when I return. Life moves forward and things change and all that. But I’m nothing if not adaptable, so I’m not too worried.

I think my biggest fear about returning to America was getting sucked in. By that I mean, falling into a quiet routine and living a vanilla life. I’ve been consciously resisting that, but I’m probably at least half way there. But I’m not going down without a fight!

See? I warned you I had nothing much to say. And I said it anyway.

A funeral. A birthday. A baby.

Posted on 31/January/2011 by John McCrarey

What a week. Drove 1145 miles to Enid, Oklahoma so my mom could be buried in the family plot near her mother. Actually, she was buried in Goltry, a small and sad outpost on the windswept and desolate Oklahoma panhandle. I believe if you look up the word depressing in the dictionary you can see a picture of Goltry.

The day of the funeral was windy (as I expect everyday in that godforsaken land must be) and bitterly cold. Mom wanted a simple graveside service and that is what she got. My Aunt Pat (of fruit salad fame) led the service and the grandkids present each gave a moving tribute as to what Grandma Bonnie had meant in their lives. Tears were shed and then it was done.

Well, we had a family gathering at the Western Sizzlin’ (apparently one of the finer dining establishments in Enid) and then those of us who were so inclined retired to the Ramada Inn bar. The eight of us then proceeded to wash away our sorrow (at least temporarily) through massive quantities of beer and various other alcoholic beverages.

My nephew Jason and his wife Rosie brought out a guitar and sang “Upward Over the Mountain” in honor of my mom. It was an incredibly beautiful song and an appropriately moving moment that seemed to give each of some measure of closure. I know mom would have loved it.

By unfortunate coincidence, the funeral day was also daughter-in-law Lauren’s birthday. We did a toast in her honor. Although Lauren was toasting us with fruit juice. Because she found out that morning that she was pregnant with my son’s first child. Apparently after quite some time trying.

Kevin revealed that in one of his final conversations with mom she had asked him to promise to take his son to church on Sundays. He told her “grandma, I don’t have a son”. She said “just promise”.

Renee is convinced that the first thing mom did in heaven was to pull some strings. I don’t know about that. But it was a day of days for sure and I wouldn’t put anything past my mom.

All you need is love

Posted on 19/January/2011 by John McCrarey

The nearest friends can go
With anyone to death, comes so far short
They might as well not try to go at all.
No, from the time when one is sick to death,
One is alone, and he dies more alone.
Friends make pretense of following to the grave,
But before one is in it, their minds are turned
And making the best of their way back to life
And living people, and things they understand.

–Robert Frost (from Home Burial)

My mother died this morning. At home, peacefully in her sleep. These past two weeks had been a struggle for her but she kept on fighting. It was heartbreaking to watch her fade away each day. She had stopped eating, drinking, and using her oxygen and become verbally non-communicative. But until yesterday I could still see her “in there” behind her eyes and there was a spark of recognition when friends and family members came to visit.

The best night occurred last week when her sisters from California were here. She was surrounded by people who loved her and she seemed to really perk up. She actually made a little speech about what’s important in life and she said all that matters is love. Mom told us to always love one another and everyone else we encountered. When it was done she smiled and said, “well, I guess I gave a sermon”. Mom was clearly loving having her family with her, that’s for sure.

She deteriorated pretty quickly after that. She lost the ability to speak, but still would lift her arms and offer hugs to any and all takers. Later she was reduced to moaning and grunts and all we could do was administer morphine and keep her as comfortable as possible. She would still make eye contact and I sensed a pleading for help, but there was no help I could provide other than stroking her head.

The last days watching her lie there fighting for breath was heartrending and we could only standby watching her suffering. This morning we woke to find her at peace at last.

You know, I have always feared dying alone. So I thought it was a good thing that mom had family around her at the end of her days. But I also observed that no matter the circumstances, we are all going to die alone. Mom was physically alive, but she was also already gone to some other unreachable place. I can only hope it was comfortable and pain free there.

Thanks for all the love you so freely gave me mom.

Long Time Gone

Category Archives: The story of my life