Love stories

For Absence

(A blessing for those who have left us and for we who are still here – the author is John O’Donohue) 

May you know that absence is alive with hidden presence, that nothing is ever lost or forgotten.

Not far from our home somebody made this sculpture/memorial for a good old dog who passed away. Good Boy!

May the absences in your life grow full of eternal echo.

May you sense around you the secret Elsewhere where the presences that have left you dwell.

May you be generous in your embrace of loss.

May the sore well of grief turn into a seamless flow of presence.

May your compassion reach out to the ones we never hear from.

May you have the courage to speak for the excluded ones.

Make you become the gracious and passionate subject of your own life.

May you not disrespect your mystery through brittle words or false belonging.

May you be embraced by God in whom dawn and twilight are one.

May your longing inhabit its dreams within the Great Belonging.

______

Jean gave me a book of blessings, To Bless the Space Between Us by John O’Donohue. We read from it most mornings and take great inspiration from the reading. It is a wonderful way to start the day – a blessing in itself.  

Life review – thoughts

I began listing a few things I miss in my life now. I tried to limit it to 5-8 things. That led to consideration of beautiful times, which led to…

Things I miss

  • Leslie.
  • Backpacking in the wilderness.
  • Being a part of the global underground, especially trance gatherings in the forest.
  • Related to the above, DMT, MDMA, LSD/psychedelics, smoking cannabis.
  • Smoking cigarettes.
  • Of course I miss being strong, quick, pain-free, all that kind of thing.
  • I don’t miss work, though if I was younger and stronger I would certainly be deeply invested in working as I once did. I just don’t have much strive left. I feel that I did the best I could – I left it all on the field.
  • Gardening.
  • Sunday mornings with David, like at the rail yard; having lunch every week with David in California.
  • Flying across the mighty Pacific in a 747 on the way to or from another two-month trip to Asia.

Some beautiful times

  • Being in the chow hall they had set up for the sole use of Marines returning from Vietnam and I was eating chocolate cake and drinking cold milk (as much as I wanted!) and listening to Groovin’ by Young Rascals on the jukebox. I was alive!
  • Getting to the bottom of a >1000 foot glissade down Twins Glacier in the Wind River mountains past the crux of a great trek and it was my 65th birthday!
  • Sitting in the kitchen with Jeff in the apartment on Oram (so homey, walls with a little sideways slant, painted yellow), coming on to Orange Sunshine. Truly, truly, everything was perfect.
  • Marrying and being married to Leslie.
  • Being in Burma, being exactly where Supilawyet sat “By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin’ lazy at the sea…” In Kathmandu, Bangkok, Saigon, Sapa, Hue, Granada, Santa Fe, Mendocino, Berkeley, all those places!
  • Being on a 747 coming home after two months in Asia at the perfect intersection of the perfect trip and going home.
  • Being married to Jean, living in Berkeley, living in Northern California!
  • My work (hospice, refugees, teaching, scholarship, serving, being part of the good).
  • Sooo many mornings lying in bed, having coffee together, talking…

Mistakes and regrets

  • Being a fuck-up in elementary and high school.
  • Smoking cigarettes.
  • Saying stupid things (multiple instances).
  • Wasted time, especially related to anger.
  • Never getting straight with my father – I’m not talking about forgiveness; it’s something else, but I’m not sure what.

Hard times

  • The war in Vietnam, especially the Hill Fights
  • When Leslie was sick and after she died.
  • Much of my childhood and teen years.

Good moves/accomplishments

  • Learning to be a good parent – Thanks, Leslie!
  • Being (for the most part) a good husband to Leslie and Jean and for the most part, a good Dad to David.
  • Becoming a nurse.
  • All the scholarship (books, articles, papers).
  • Hospice and refugee work, Agape; learning how different people live; being part of so many lives.
  • LSD, MDMA, psytrance.
  • Starting back to Backpacking in my 60s; dropping back into the global underground also in my 60s.
  • Staying true to the vision for the last 60 years of my life.
  • Taking good care of my mother and of Leslie at the end of their lives.

Eulogy

Eulogy, Charles Kemp

(10-minute reading, so relax)

Born August 30, 1944, in Tyler, Texas. Died ______________ in Berkeley, California. His greatest achievement in life was overcoming the karma of a difficult childhood and becoming a decent man, husband, and father.

He dropped out of high school in his senior year and spent a year and a half as a “climbing bum,” rock-climbing and hitch-hiking around Colorado and Wyoming, and working as a short-order and dinner cook. After returning to Dallas he completed high school, then returned west to climb. He started college but dropped out and joined the Marines in 1965.

After eight months of training, he was sent to Vietnam as an infantryman in the 26th Marine Regiment Special Landing Force. He saw heavy combat throughout his 13-month tour of duty near the DMZ but was only slightly wounded. He was proud to have fought in both the 26th Marines and 9th Marines in Operation Deckhouse (IV and V), Operation Prairie, the Hill Fights, Con Thien, Dodge City, and other engagements. Decorations included the Purple Heart, Combat Action Ribbon, Presidential Unit Citation, Navy Unit Commendation, and others. He learned that life is a gift. His entire life he was grateful to be alive.

He returned home in 1967 and attended college for a few semesters, but much of 1967-1972 was spent integrating the experience of the war with civilian life. He married his high school sweetheart, Leslie, in 1969. They had met outside the cafeteria at Thomas Jefferson High School when they were 16 – it was love at first sight and it endured. They were married 45 years. His healing came through Leslie, LSD, and the personal strengths he carried within. In 1972, he returned to school and graduated magna cum laude in 1975 from Baylor University School of Nursing. After working in community health for several years he entered graduate school in 1977 at the University of Texas at Austin, earning a master’s degree in psychiatric nursing.

In 1978, he founded the first hospice in Texas, the Visiting Nurse Association Home Hospice, serving as its director and hospice clinical specialist. Under his leadership the VNA Home Hospice had the largest daily census in the US and became a National Hospice Demonstration Project. He worked with people at the end of life for most of the rest of his life.

He taught at Texas Woman’s University and Baylor University, where he led courses in end-of-life care, psychiatric nursing, and community health nursing. Under his guidance in clinical settings, students took on expanded service-learning roles in planning and delivering health services in underserved refugee communities. In 2000, he completed the family nurse practitioner program at Baylor. He worked as an FNP at the Agape Clinic serving mainly immigrants and refugees for the rest of his career.

Hospice care, refugee health, community health, and primary care were the primary focuses of his career. Most of his professional work centered on building and sustaining collective efforts involving multiple individuals and entities. Throughout his life he was committed to doing and teaching compassion. He authored three books, over 70 articles in professional journals, and numerous papers.

In addition to hospice work, he had sole or primary responsibility for planning, implementing, and/or securing funding for the below.

  • District health services through Baylor School of Nursing and community agencies serving refugees
  • Expansion of the Agape Clinic
  • Vietnam Veterans Resource Center (later part of the VA VSO service)
  • The East Dallas Health Coalition, a community-oriented primary care clinic now open seven days a week with multiple adult and pediatric services

These and other services benefitted thousands of people. Most are still in operation today.

In addition to his Marine Corps decorations, awards included inclusion in the Great 150 Baylor graduates over the 150 years of Baylor’s history, Fellow of the American Academy Nursing (national), the Abner V. McCall Humanitarian Award (Baylor University), Faculty Award for Excellence from Elsevier Science (national award), Outstanding University Scholar at Baylor, Outstanding University Lecturer at Baylor, Margaret Stein Award for Outstanding Service in Community Health (national), Presidential Citation Vietnam Veterans of America (national), Outstanding Volunteer from Dallas Volunteer Center/ARCO, J.C. Penney Golden Rule Award, and other awards from the Dallas Police, DFW Vietnamese Community, DISD, State of Texas, Presbyterian Church, and others.

He was a serious baker, gardener, and rosarian. He was a backpacker with numerous treks in Wyoming and Colorado, culminating in a 10-day trip deep in the Wind River Wilderness to celebrate his 65th birthday. In his 60s, he reconnected with his hippie roots through involvement in the psychedelic trance scene. He (re)learned to dance in these underground forest parties and led workshops on the end of life and psychedelic therapy at gatherings in Texas, Colorado, and New Mexico.

He and Leslie adopted their son, David, at birth, and took great joy in “our little family.” David was a good and faithful son to Leslie and Charles. Charles and Leslie worked closely together in the Cambodian refugee community and at the Agape Clinic. From the time David was a baby riding on Charles’ shoulders to now David has been involved in these efforts to serve the poor and for justice. They found happiness in their simple family life, their home, and in working and traveling together. Leslie died in 2015, and Charles cared for her during her final months. They had been married for 45 years.

Written in the beautiful city of Hue in Central Vietnam in 2012: We went to the Thien Mu Pagoda, 45 minutes up the perfume river from Hue. This where the monk Thich Quang Duc lived before he went to Saigon in 1966 to immolate himself in protest against the VN government and the war. The pagoda and grounds were quietly beautiful – understated and mossy with just a few people around and a view from the grounds across the wide river, past the plains, to these mist-covered mountains where we fought and bled, where so many from every side fought and bled and died, aching for life – me for a beautiful dark-haired girl whose photo was so washed out from the constant slogging through rain and padi water that only the shadow of her left eye was left and now, 45 years later, looking across the room from where I write she’s sitting on the bed, the love of my life, beautiful, her hair white now and here we are in Hue and I look out through the glass-paned doors through the mist toward palm trees and mossy buildings.

In 2021, after living together for five years, he married the artist Jean Cacicedo. Together they enjoyed an “endless summer” (that lasted more than two years), the magic of Berkeley, countless intimate days, and the fullest life imaginable. They traveled all over California, Colorado, Montana, and Wyoming, and in Asia and Europe. They prepared numerous meals together, endured health challenges, got through the pandemic together, and they lived happily ever after in Paradise (Berkeley).

He was fulfilled in every respect.

He is survived by his son, David Kemp; his wife, Jean Cacicedo; and his brother, John Kemp.

“Walking downhill in Paradise”

Avenue of Trees on the way into cabin near Mendocino

Parked on Cedar Street, walked past one beautiful garden after another (it’s mostly gardens here, not lawns), walked past the original Peet’s on Vine at Walnut and down to the Cheese Board Collective on Shattuck. Standing in line at the Cheese Board today, surrounded by people more or less like me. What a great thing to be able to do this quintessential Berkeley thing, walking through a beautiful community and standing in line for a great bakery. People and dogs walking by, people sitting and standing at the sidewalk tables, babies and old pe

Red Sea Orange Feather

ople and everyone in-between. Inside, past all the great cheeses and on to the bread counter. Got sourdough batard, spelt loaf, cheese roll, double chocolate cookies. I do this once a week, along with trips to a truly great produce market and to the big and unique Berkeley Bowl.

In the past two months we had lovely three-day visits from David and Charles and from Jean’s niece Anne and her great niece Beatrice. They were the first overnight visitors we’ve had since the downstairs bathroom was redone and everything worked well.

Red Sea Orange Feather

Drove to Carmel for a show at the Carl Cherry Art Center featuring Jean’s and Janet Lipkin’s work. It was the first time I’ve seen Jean’s work on a person and finally I really get it that these coats she’s made are sculptures. https://carlcherrycenter.org

Peter Goodman wrote a book about his family bakery on Telegraph Avenue in the 1950s and 60s. The Berkeley Historical Society sponsored an event around the book and about a hundred people showed up. Lotta white hair and canes in that crowd!

The mighty Pacific from van

Drove to Mendocino. Stayed in a nice cabin across from the small town of Mendocino on the other side of a fjord-like inlet along the Pacific coast. From Mendocino you can barely see the cabin on the headland among the trees. Spent a beautiful day at the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens. The dahlias are in full and breathtaking bloom. https://www.gardenbythesea.org

The journey with getting the VA to recognize my service-related challenges is over with my goals achieved.

Watching the sun go down behind Mount Tam with the mighty Pacific stretching endlessly beyond into the great beyond. And in the morning in the hot tub looking out over the SF Bay with fragrant Philadelphius flowers hanging down above us.

Morning from deck

I’ve been writing my obituary and planning my funeral. One of the “tasks” at the end of life (or, preferably before the end of life) is a “life review.” Involvement in hospice and related work has led to an understanding of the importance of reviewing and an obituary is really a summary statement of review (and thus is worth doing).

Happy Birthday in Mendocino Coastal Gardens

I flew to Dallas for an appointment. The flight was scheduled for 6pm, delayed until after 8pm, and after an hour and a half, turned around and went back to Oakland. There were emergency vehicles lined up where we landed, but nothing happened. The passengers all disembarked, walked to another gate, and got on another plane. I got home at 5:37am, took a quick nap and showed up at 8am appointment, then went elsewhere to transact business (feeling impaired after 24+ hours awake).

Going to friend’s homes for dinner or having people over. Meeting friends for lunch. This week we celebrated my birthday with Jean at Dalida in the Presidio. Nancy and Peter had us over for another birthday dinner and we had Andy and Simone over for dinner the next evening. Happy birthday, CK!

Morning – in hot tub looking up

Peter N-R and I were walking home from lunch at the Kensington Inn. It’s an uphill walk – uphill is getting harder and harder – to get there and a downhill walk going home. Peter said, “We’re walking downhill in paradise.” That’s right.

Days in the life – Berkeley, 2025

Looking out bedroom door from bed. Fog bank in the distance.

In the end we’re just carrying the water, tending the fire, planting and harvesting…

I was prompted to make this post by contact with a distant relative and a question from a friend near Point Reyes. My friend had asked, “What do you do?” (as I live my life). (Click photos to make big; then back arrow.)

Saturday. Got up at 6:30, fixed coffee and a little fruit bowl for Jean to have before her medications, and brought these to her. We drank coffee together, watched the sky and the distance from bed, and talked. From Jean’s place in bed she can see SF Bay and Golden Gate Bridge; I can see the Bay, Marin headlands, and Mt. Tamalpais. We call what we see in the mornings “the today show.” ♥

A little after 8:00 Jean got up and bathed and I fixed breakfast. This morning it was the usual: fruit bowl with yogurt and granola for Jean and toast and almond butter for me. We’re close to California’s Central Valley and Oregon’s orchards, so the fruit here is exemplary. This morning we had a mix of pear, apple, orange, strawberries, blueberries, banana, and grapes. When I was in Dallas I baked all our bread for quite a few years. Now here, there are several great bakeries, selling levain, spelt, and other crusty, coarse, tasty loaves that are even better than what I baked. Today’s bread is levain from the Cheeseboard Collective.

We ate together in the living room, and talked, again with the view. I showered and Jean did Pilates. I tended the plants on the deck (again, the view) and Jean made some phone calls. The way we live with the Bay, the City (SF), Marin, and the sky and clouds and sun and fog and garden all right here means that outside and inside are not separate. When it’s just a little warmer we’ll sleep with the French doors in the bedroom open to the outside – “one door nights” and “two door nights.”

Jean is working in the kitchen, getting a to-go lunch together for a friend who is unwell. Someone is coming over in a few minutes to help with the irrigation system. He came – thank you! We planned on a walk at the nearby middle school track, but didn’t do it. With my iPhone I’m in my third year of counting steps. In year two I increased steps by about a quarter mile and in year three, by another quarter mile.

Thyme in flower

Watered front garden for an hour. Plants in bloom right now are thyme, nasturtium, sweet alyssum, two kinds of alstroemeria, two kinds of California poppy, calla lily, three kinds of iris – including from Jean’s father, butterfly sage, borage, tansy, agapanthus, columbine, lavender, rose geranium, yellow tagetes, coreopsis, impatiens aloe vera, day lilies, and the lime tree.

Back downstairs garden

Jean has had a contractor working on the downstairs bathroom. To start the job she had to move quite a bit of fabric and artwork out because the bathroom was basically used as a large storage area with a toilet and sink. There were many remnants of dyed and felted wool, which Jean sorted and bundled according to colors, and then stacked in the downstairs bedroom. Somehow, to me anyway, the stack of bundles became an art installation. Some of the textiles went to art schools or artists collectives. It’s like the extras from a lifetime of textile art.

At work in her studio

Right now, she’s in her studio, working on the third in a series of self-portraits related to health challenges over the past few years. This one is heart-related. Others include the spine/pain and the neurological challenges of dysautonomia. I’m unsure about how long she’s been working on this series – a month, at least.

The house is kind a kind of unassuming one-story bungalow on the outside (with an extravagant garden). Inside it is like in the song, “hangings rich of many strange designs” very beautiful. The hidden away downstairs down winding stairs has a small room for Jean’s archives, a laundry room, a bedroom, a storage room, a bathroom, and a large bright, high-ceiling studio opening out on a deck and more garden. The deck reminds me of a Thai or Cambodian artisan area with its bamboo poles for hanging fabric.

Being as old as we are means (among other things) spending a lot of time taking care of our bodies. We’re like athletes, always working out, dealing with injuries and infirmities, eating special diets, trying to stay in shape…

Tonight we picked up our friend, Susan and went to dinner at Kiku Japanese restaurant.

Sunset from deck

Jean and Susan split some sushi and I had yakisoba noodles. Not unlike pad Thai.

I always look forward to going to bed with Jean in the evening. The goal is to get there before 9 pm and we usually make it. We take turns deciding on “the entertainment” (computer TV) which basically lasts for an hour. Right now it’s kind of rotating among White Lotus, the Americans, This is Us, and some mash-up of Seinfeld, Colbert, Midnight Diner, and Mark Wiens. For us, TV is one of the outcomes of the pandemic, i.e., something that changed as a result of the pandemic and lockdown. Other changes include having as much mayonnaise and butter as I want, because, you know, we could all die at any time. I’m out there on the edge again, man.

The track at King Middle School

Sunday. Up at 6:15, fix coffee, meds together, small fruit bowl for Jean so meds won’t be on empty stomach (I always put it in the plastic bowl I got on a Cathay-Pacific flight about 25 years ago). Lying in bed watching the sky and sea and land. We did a short “grateful” – in which we set an alarm for five minutes and lie there quietly thinking of things for which we are grateful.

Breakfast was poached egg and toast. My secrets to poached eggs is very light oil to skillet, cold water brought to boil, slip egg sloooowly into the water so that it cooks a little as it goes in, cover to skillet. When they’re about done, use spatula to loosen eggs. Turn over if wanted (I sometimes make a mess doing this.) and poach to desired doneness. Serve on toasted levain or spelt. Trader Joe fresh “medium” salsa from cold case. In this and all other matters, no salt cooking or serving. Tastes great!

Walked at Martin Luther King Middle School track. There were people of every age – old and young – and every physical ability, walkers, runners, fast and slow, and soccer teams playing. When the soccer game is over there will be a volleyball game on the field.

Lunch together. I had a sandwich made from leftover bun bo xao beef and Jean had leftover sushi.

Front garden

Nap.

I worked on the sprinkler system in the garden. As always I got soaked but finally got things set up for the dry season. Jean worked on her “Kona’s rug,” which was just cleaned. Kona was her well-loved black Labrador. We talk about getting a dog, but it doesn’t seem practical at our age. Still…

Obsolete: 25 years ago I realized that one of the major disconnects between the healthcare system and refugees and immigrants was that patients from foreign lands were worked up like patients from the US (except of course that there were more barriers for foreigners). Despite a high probability of parasites among patients from developing nations, parasitic infection was a distant differential so there was always months of delay before getting to the cause of a problem. And, at least in primary care, emergency care, and elsewhere there was a general lack of awareness of infectious and tropical diseases. Thus was the book Infectious and Tropical Diseases conceived.

I developed the differential diagnosis sections of the book and then two colleagues and I worked on diseases sections for over a year and in 2006 it was published by Elsevier Science. A unique characteristic of the book was that diseases, symptoms, and geography were extensively cross-referenced, so that readers could quickly zero in on symptoms/diseases endemic to particular locales. It was a good book and we got good reports from practitioners working in refugee and international health. Yesterday I had the jarring realization that the innovative cross-referencing concept has been made obsolete by AI. Of course, the book has been out-of-date since a few years after publication, but the concept!

Here is what Chat GPT said in response to the query “50-year old Kurdish male from Iraq with abdominal pain 10 years duration:” “The diagnostic approach should consider both common global causes and region-specific infectious, environmental, and psychosocial factors, particularly given the Kurdish population’s potential exposure to trauma, limited healthcare access, and endemic infections.” Hydatid disease, strongyloides, and schistosomiasis were noted as risks by ChatGPT.

If this all seems irrelevant, recall the 2014 Ebola case undetected for several days at a major Dallas hospital. Now that was scary, at least among ER staff, refugee health workers, and people living near the sick man! Three cheers to AI!

I lost track of keeping track of everything. Getting a little random.

From my last trip to the bathroom about 0500 I saw through the deck door the yellow/orange moon hanging low over the Bay. It was beautiful but not enough to wake Jean.

Leaving Point Reyes

I’m thinking there’s a certain sameness to life these days. There is love, there is surpassing beauty in life, lots of gratitude, some seriously good times and seriously hard times. I feel like I understand life better. I think of the challenges of the day. I think often about David and Leslie and Jean. I think about traveling, war, working with refugees, the clinic, friends, people who have helped me (and people who have hindered me, people I’ve worked with, writing, teaching, hospice, life, the end of life, the house in Dallas. I’m happy I worked so hard and accomplished what I accomplished. We do social things 2-4 x week like dinner with friends, lunches out, museum trips (Jean does the museums; me, not so much.

Another day: Tracking in detail.

Coffee in bed – Jean’s mug is from a gallery in Red Lodge when we went to see Courtney in Montana and my mug I bought from a Chinese dollar store during David’s and my first trip to San Francisco. Fruit snack in a Cathay Pacific mini-bowl from long ago. ♥

Sunset

Talking

Breakfast – JC smoked salmon and cream cheese on spelt, fruit salad (orange, apple, grapes, strawberries, blueberries, banana); CK fruit salad with yogurt and toast (levain and spelt) with almond butter from Berkeley Bowl – all served on plates from Jean’s Mom and bowls made by a neighborhood potter, James Newton, and I’m eating with my spoon from Cathay Pacific. 

We go to a bayside art and nature place (“The Bulb”), but the wind off the Bay was so strong and cold we left and went to our usual weekend walking place, the MLK Middle School track. On the way stopped at Monterey Market for the first fresh corn of the year and a big bunch of chard. On to the track.

The other night I made stuffed small new potatoes like we had at the Amet Haveli hotel in Udaipur (this time I stuffed with cheese, chives, ham, z’atar). Baked, split, scooped out, mix cream cheese, lots of chives, tiny pieces of a small slice ham, potato and stuff the little potatoes. Top with cheese – used provolone. Re-baked ~10 minutes.

Morning, Mount Tam in distance

This week Jean has been to a women’s gathering in Sonoma, I’ve had lunch with Peter N-R, and we’ve had dinner with Nancy and Peter and with Susan.

Jean finished an art piece: The Heart. See above re series. 

Challenges faced: Pain, feeling tired, medication side effects, the complexities of navigating the health care system even when things are going pretty well, rising prices, the moral decline/the corruptionof America, the gutting of values of decency, honor, honesty, and so on.

Back to the photo of the morning sky:

Morning has broken, like the first morning.
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning.
Praise for them springing fresh from the Word

“Baby, ain’t it all worthwhile.”

Another week in Berkeley, 2024

From the bedroom – the Today Show!

I was listening to the Van Morrison song, And the Healing Has Begun. The song resonates powerfully with Jean and me, in part because it was in our life together that the healing from our spouses’ deaths really began – and of course, thanks to David and John and Jeff and Janet and Susan and Sherry and others for keeping us pretty well until Jean and I met. Among the lines in that song that resonate most powerfully are:

We’re gonna stay out all night long
We’re gonna dance to the rock & roll
And then we’re gonna go out and roam across the field

The last time we stayed out all night long (other than at a hospital, LOL) was in 2018 when Jean and I were at a psytrance event thrown by the collective (Atrium Obscurum) that I’d been part of previously. It was a three-day, two-night party, but we were only there from Friday afternoon – Saturday morning. We worked the gate Friday evening (my last work with Atrium Obscurum) and hung with friends and then Ro’s Rage Against the Machine cover band played and then the opening ceremony and then the dancing began. We were awake through the night in our forest campsite, sharing words of love, kissing, making love while the music pulsed and people laughed and danced in the forest and over on the earth dance floor under the trees all through the night. In the morning we went to the dance floor, then to a yoga meeting with Kristina, and then we went swimming at the nearby spring-fed Lake Daingerfield. It was all magical…

At psytrance party

We’re gonna stay out all night long
We’re gonna dance to the rock & roll
And then we’re gonna go out and roam across the field
The music was psytrance instead of rock and roll and we swam in the cold spring waters instead of running across the field, but it’s all the same.

——————-

Searching through my blog for something related to Van singing And the Healing Has Begun I came across one loving post after another. Really a lot. Oh, the magic of our life together – where the healing really did begin! I’m awed by our reality then and now. I am so grateful to you, Jean. These days we sit naked in the warm waters of our hot tub with the moon shining, an owl hooting off to the north, and The City all lit up in the distance. What a time we’re having.

I found posts from 2017 and 2020 with the same title, Another Week in Berkeley. So here comes yet another week in Berkeley from now:

Tuesday, 2/13

Hot tub at sunset

We’re still chugging water to start the day, snack, meds, then our very own “Today Show” – what we see from our cosy, warm bed looking through the bedroom doors across San Francisco Bay, the Marin Headlands, Golden Gate Bridge, sky, clouds… talking, coffee, massage, ♥.

We’re still having fruit salad most days for breakfast: today it was pear, strawberries, blueberries, a little apple for the crunch, yogurt, maple syrup, toast, almond butter. After breakfast we had a soak in the hot tub (more on that in a moment).

Jean went to the dentist and I went to a Pilates session with Sandra. A few months ago Peter N-R gave me a session with her (Thanks, Peter!) and I’ve been going back weekly since then, except when I had covid.

We exchanged Valentine’s Day cards (more words of love). Jean and I fixed dinner: scallops in a simple, deep sauce with pasta and brocolinni.

Wednesday 2/14

Jean made this Valentine’s Day card for me

Another day in Paradise, starting in the bed with meds, snack, mate, and the Today Show. First thing in the morning, hummingbirds fly straight up high in the air before they zip off to somewhere. There is a willow-related tree growing below our house and the top of the tree is eye-level for us. Hummingbirds like to perch on the very tip of the tip-top branches like little kings of their demesne.

Breakfast this morning was a “giant cookie”: oatmeal with strawberries and blueberries, Jean’s with butter and mine with almond butter, maple syrup, milk. As always, we ate together in the living room.

Afterward I drove to Solano Avenue, parked, and walked way down the street, then back up the other side, then to Peet’s, and then Andronico’s for strawberries, milk, and King Arthur flour.

After lunch we took a nap, then Jean went to Freida’s for haircut touch-up.

Exercise

I walked up to the Kensington market for ground beef and Jean fixed meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and broccolini for dinner, accompanied by Levain from Acme Bakery.

Since the pandemic began we’ve been watching television for an hour every night. Tonight we watched Sol Life on YouTube (the day-to-day solitary life of a woman in Japan) and part of a romantic comedy.

In the front garden

Thursday 2/15

Snack, water/electrolytes, meds, Peet’s for me and herbal tea for Jean, Today Show.

Hot tub, breakfast (kiwi from tree at Lisa’s studio, Asian pear, pear, strawberries, blueberries, banana, yogurt, toast and almond butter, granola).

I drove to the Berkeley Kaiser Permanente pharmacy to pick up Rx, then to nearby Berkeley Bowl for groceries. Home.

Lunch

Nap

Jean was in her studio in the late afternoon. I did Pilates exercise, went for a walk.

Jean fixed dinner – minestrone and I helped with prep and cleaned up.

Read

Friday 2/16

In the Today Show, huge fog banks covered most of the mountains/headlands so that it looked like big mountains in Colorado. We talked of the challenges we all face at this age, some of us more than others of us, some physical, some psychological/emotional, but all of us dealing with something significant.

Where we camped at psytrance party. Mid-left is the hard-to-see-in-the-day suspended heart that lit up the night.

We took a short hot tub.

Breakfast was (for Jean) smoked salmon on toast + fruit salad (Asian pear, pear, strawberries, blueberries, orange) and for me the same fruit salad with yogurt + toast and almond butter.

Jean went to the middle school pool for water walking with Janet and then a quick stop at Trader Joe’s. I walked up the street to the “top of the hill” and back down (~2,000 steps), then Pilates exercise.

Lunch was meat loaf, mashed potatoes, cheese, salsa sandwich for me and salad for Jean.

Nap, talking under the covers.

I made granola and Jean fixed a salad to go with the minestrone when Janet and Larry come over later.

Enjoyed judgment against Trump. I’m enjoying it very much!

A fence along where I walked

Had a nice Shabbat dinner (minestrone, salad, cheese with tangerines and chocolate for dessert) and fellowship with Jean’s oldest friend and her new partner, Larry. He says it’s a miracle to have this connection with Janet at this age. I concur – we’re all living a miracle!

Easy clean-up since most of the cooking done yesterday.

A TV show that once again showed that it’s a vast wasteland out there.

Sleep.

Saturday 2/17

Coffee, snack, meds, talk, Today Show, watching the sky transition from grey to pink to cloudy to clear, ♥. Hot tub.

Fruit salad, granola, yogurt.

Jean watching a podcast on Egyptian textiles and I’m writing this and reading more about Trump judgment. Got a text from Linda B: I’m going to sit for a portrait with her art group soon.

I’m problem solving re portable speaker and Jean is in her yoga room, then studio.

Lunch: another meat loaf sandwich for Mr. Adventures!

Stone wall, moss along where I walked

Nap together, lying in bed (again) talking.

I spent the rest of the afternoon writing, reading news feeds.

Jean was in the studio late afternoon, then came upstairs and fixed broiled salmon, salad, Acme levain.

Watched part of a French movie, L’Envol (Scarlet) – pretty good.

Slept.

Sunday 2/18

Coffee, snack, meds, talk, ♥. Hot tub.

Dishwasher not working, so we unloaded a full load and started washing dishes.

I fixed omelet with goat gouda cheese, mushrooms, green onions, levain, ½ sweet Italian sausage each for breakfast.

Washed dishes.

Talked with someone on the phone regarding how to prioritize and coordinate medical care with a spouse. Wrote f/u text.

Jean in India about 10 years ago

Hi ——–,

In summary, the main problems that should be addressed quickly are:

Nausea and vomiting AND subsequent dehydration. There is an effective nausea medication (ondansetron) and he should have some at home as well as when in ER. There’s a good chance he’s dehydrated and in need of IV fluids now.

Pain – probably needing more than Tylenol or ibuprofen. Note that ibuprofen should be given with food to avoid stomach upset.

The past problem with ER should not influence you to avoid seeking care. They’ve already tried to make it right and may have to try more, but you should still go. You can also go to a different hospital. You should stick with him at ER to head off conflict.

The prostate and back are probably not priorities right now.

Wishing you and ——- well.

Charles

Went to MLK middle school track and we (or mostly Jean) walked with Susan. I’m using my iPhone to keep track of my steps these days. Most days I exceed my target.

Trader Joe for several things, including TJ salads for lunch

Lunch

Sunset from deck

Finish washing dishes

Nap, talking about life, including Jean’s friends M and V who recently died in their 90s, died within a few hours of one another, and lived independently and well in their house in the Berkeley Hills until death. There are many sad and even desperate stories happening among older people, including people we know. It’s well to remember M and V whose story is a triumph. And Jean’s friend, K, in her 90s, still in her home (with a fair amount of assistance). H and J, late 70s and early 80s, living in wooded hills near Point Reyes, growing quality cannabis. C and J, in their mid – late 70s, dealing with significant physical issues and living a beautiful life… We joined Ashby Village last year. Ashby Village is part of the village movement happening here and elsewhere. Through members and volunteers members work to remain in their homes as they age.

Talked with David.

Pilates exercise.

Writing this…

Fountain near the house

Reading news feeds. I read a lot of news. I think things are pretty horrible for many people around the world. I worry about the wars in Ukraine and Gaza. The news in the US, especially political news, is weird and unsettling. I’m unsettled.

Jean in studio.

Dinner was salmon in Indian curry paste (Sukhi’s brand) in coconut milk, cauliflower, slaw

Reading in living room, then taking a soak in the hot tub.

Watched movie, Scarlet) for an hour. Goodnight…

Monday 2/19

I woke up early and got up to write something re a neighborhood issue (whether the neighborhood forum is an appropriate place to discuss a petition to recall our county DA). Here’s what I wrote:

Reflecting on the question of politics entering this neighborhood discussion group, I see with greater clarity how much public safety and health are enmeshed in politics.

For me, personally, as I age and my physical abilities decline, a completely non-responsive Berkeley/Alameda forces me to live with a cracked, uneven sidewalk in front of my house (only one fall, so far) and a shameful lack of bus benches for impaired AC Transit riders like me. Because of so much urine on downtown sidewalks, I had to spread newspapers on the sidewalk to sit when I was unable to stand while waiting for a bus. Like crime, these are public health/safety issues and any solution to them will include politics.

I appreciate the opportunity to step out of my kitchen door to sign a petition to recall. I felt no pressure to sign. And I don’t feel there is a risk to neighborhood cohesion or relationships related to this discussion!

Fixed coffee, snack, meds, lay in bed talking, ♥.

Oh! There’s a rainbow over The Bay!

Hot tub

Fruit for breakfast: Asian pear, pear, grapes, blueberries, strawberries, apple

Worked on medications

Installed color toner cartridges in color laser printer. I am smrt! I am smrt!

Night sky

Lunch: granola for me, smoked salmon and goat cheese for Jean.

Nap

I did a lot of nothing from 3-5:30, then to Sol’s for dinner. Sabich sandwich for me, mesquite smoked trout for Jean. Best trout since I lived in Colorado. Jean agreed.

Hot tub.

I chose the evening’s entertainment: Seinfeld and Young Sheldon.

It rained during the night.

That’s another week in Berkeley.

About the hot tub: I gave Jean a hot tub (or spa) for Christmas and she paid for retrofitting the deck so we could have the tub on the same level as bedroom and living room. It’s exactly 20 steps from the tub to the shower. Nice! Thank you, Sweet Thing!

Highway from Marathon to Big Bend. We’ll be on that road in a few weeks on our trip to Marfa and Big Bend

She called just to say goodbye

I used this in hospice training in the late 1970s. It is the profound universal message of our common human need for witness to our lives and to our deaths. It is the same message that Jesus gave when shortly before he was tortured to death, he said, “My soul is very sorrowful, even unto death; remain here, and watch with me.”

SHE CALLED JUST TO SAY GOODBYE

By Lynna Williams

Star-Telegram Writer

In a long and good life, she married the man she loved and together they loved two sons. Now she is dying and who will hear her goodbyes?

Not her husband or her sons. The oldest son died in the France of World War Il two days after his last letter arrived safely home. The youngest was buried next to his father in a Fort Worth cemetery.

Not other family. She came to her marriage from life as the adored only child in a West Texas home. Mama and Daddy died within a year of each other 48 years ago.

Not friends. Those who meant something to her are dead, their obituaries neatly clipped and filed in a front room desk.

But, although she is alone, she wanted to say goodbye. She wanted even more for someone to hear. The voice that called the Star-Telegram newsroom Tuesday was somewhat hesitant but firm about the purpose for the call: She had something to say. Could someone listen?

Assured that someone could, she began to talk. Her name wasn’t important, she said. Her need for a witness to her life — even a stranger — was.

She was born in Abilene 81 years ago. Nothing has ever come between her and memories of the house where she grew up, not distance and certainly not time. She can remember it now as clearly as if she stood on the freshly painted porch. She can see the oak tree where she played and where folks gathered on Sundays for prayer meeting.

Her husband-to-be was a boy of 16 when they met at a girlfriend’s house. She remembers betting with the friend — a daring act for a gently brought up girl — that he would marry her.

He was over 6 feet tall and when she looked at him, something caught in her heart. She remembers that feeling, too, so clearly that retelling it makes her sound, for a moment, almost young again.

They married and moved to Fort Worth. She hated the town on sight — her husband laughed at her for missing the West Texas “scenery” of Abilene — but she wrote her parents every day and she survived.

Two years after she became a wife, she became a mother. First, Bill, who “never met a stranger.” Then, Hal, a boy who became his beloved older brother’s shadow.

The voice on the phone stops. Is the taking up too much time? She almost laughs at that and makes a joke about being short of time. The voice is stronger, as if memories give her strength.

They were a family. Her boys had their own front porch to grow on. There were picnics and conferences at school with their teachers. Bill was the class cut-up. Hal was too shy but was the best of boys.

Hard times came. Her husband’s first small business failed. But the family was together and they survived. Where did the time go? She wonders that now, but cannot remember if she noticed the days slipping away then.

Bill was dead. Thirty years have passed but she remembers that day as if it were filed with the other obituaries in the front room. She cried. Her husband cried. Hal shut himself in the boys’ bedroom. When he came out, he was changed in a way that made her heart ache. He never spoke of his brother again.

She got through the days when Hal was overseas by praying he would come home again.

When he did, their life went on. He stayed at home after his return and helped his father with the family business.

Hal was at his father’s side when he died in 1967. She had left the hospital room for a minute and the way she felt seeing her only child bent over her husband is a memory, too.

Her son died four years ago. He was never anything but her best boy. When she thinks of her husband, she sees his face. With Hal, it is his smile. Bill has become the picture on the mantle, the eyes under the Army visor.

She has lived her life since then alone in the house with the front porch where no one plays now.

She became more and more alone as the years went by. Fewer faces at church were familiar. She was an old woman and who would take the time to get to know her?

Her heath, always good, began failing last year. She sold the family home in January and moved into a nursing home.

Last month, she was hospitalized for a list of ailments she is sure will mean her death.

She has thought about it — about dying — many times. She believes she will see her family again and will not be sorry when her life as it is now is over.

But — and her voice became firmer still — she did want someone to know she was alive and soon would not be.

She just wanted someone to know.

FORT WORTH STAR-TELEGRAM

(UPS 206-260)

Along the railroad tracks

Some Sunday mornings David and I would drive in my blue Toyota long-bed P/U truck to the Santa Fe train yard near downtown. We’d sit in the truck and watch the yard-men couple and uncouple the cars, the mighty engines moving back and forth, tracks being switched, and all the other things that happen in a train yard. A few times security would tell us to leave, but mostly we just sat there having a good time, listening and singing along to a Hank Williams tape. We especially liked Honky-Tonk man, which David changed slightly – “Hey, hey, mommy, can your daddy come home” and then we’d always shout, “Yes!” And of course, Lonesome Whistle. We’d butcher those lyrics, too. David was two or three years old at the time.

When he was even younger, we’d be at home and hear that train whistle blow from the tracks near home, and Leslie or I would grab David, jump in the truck or car and drive to the tracks so he could wave at the engineer.

Other days we would walk along the tracks. When David was little, I’d carry him on my shoulders. Some of the engineers would wave at David and at least once, one of them threw us a little bottle of water. “Hey, little boy!” the man said as he threw it. “Hey little bow!” was how David reported it to Leslie.

Away we go!

When he was older, like 4 or 5, he liked to force his way through the underbrush along the sides of the higher track elevation or berms. (The tracks are long since torn out and replaced by the Santa Fe Trail.)

The Lakewood Country Club golf course lay along part of the tracks, so we usually found some golf balls along the way. We also brought home several hundred old rusty railroad spikes – some of which I have to this day. On the side of the track opposite the country club was a drainage ditch that usually had water running. When David was 6 or 7 we would build dams across the water and since it was running, there would just be more and more water, so the dams got bigger and bigger, but the water always prevailed. Sean from down the street and David’s lifelong friend, Chris would work on the dams when they were around. Still the water ended up flowing over or around the dam no matter who was working on it. In summers in the still backwaters along the ditch there were polliwogs!

Sometimeswe would walk as far as East Grand Avenue and get a treat at Doug’s convenience store. The man who ran the store would always give David a little something extra. We’d sit outside and have the treats, then walk back home. Sometimes Leslie would drive to Doug’s and bring us back home. David and I would relate our adventures to Leslie and my Mom. I look at those days akin to “Those Happy Golden Days.”

By the tracks: a boy who has proudly lost his two front teeth!

A mile or so past Doug’s was what we called the “big black bridge” – a black metal bridge about 50 feet over/above White Rock Creek. I’m guessing the bridge was around 200 feet long. Several times we climbed up the utility ladder on one of the concrete supports to the bridge tracks. I would go first and belay David on up, then we got quickly off the bridge. It always made me nervous to cross the bridge as trains ran regularly on the tracks.

There was a dirt road (long since closed) from Grand Avenue to the bridge. A few times we drove to the bridge to fish in the creek. Once two men approached us while we were sitting in the truck under the bridge. I didn’t like their demeanor and I cleared my .357. Even though the men couldn’t see the weapon, they could somehow tell they should give up on whatever they had in mind and they left.

It’s hard to remember exactly how old David was – maybe 3 or 4 – that time when we were deep in a bottom-land forest not far from the bridge. We were sitting on a log and I was telling him about the quest for the Holy Grail and suddenly it was as if he locked in completely on what I was saying in a way I had never seen before. It was a moment of wonder.

Well, I’m a honky-tonk man
And I can’t seem to stop
I love to give the girls a whirl
To the music of an old jukebox
But when my money’s all gone,
I’m on the telephone singing
Hey hey mama can your daddy come home

YES!

The secret road from Grand Avenue to the “Big Black Bridge”

Last Kiss

Leslie and me on a rainy magical day in Vietnam

Eight years ago today, my wife, Leslie passed away in Baylor Hospital. Today, Jean and I went to the King Middle School track for a weekend walk surrounded by the beauty of the Berkeley Hills and a clear blue sky. I put on my headphones and started a random playlist. The first song was Last Kiss! I flashed back to that terrible last night with Leslie deeply sedated, never to awaken and I was there, whispering into her ear – love, David, Nora, me, all the people who loved her truly, singing the Song of Ruth to Leslie, our long life together, singing more than 50 years of our love, since we were 16 falling in love outside the cafeteria at Thomas Jefferson High School. I kissed her our last kiss as her

Leslie and David a few days before she died

breathing slowed and stopped…

Last Kiss, Pearl Jam rendition

 

 

 

 

 

 

I found some photographs

Clearing out a drawer
I found a few photographs.
There were some good ones
And I stuck them in my suitcase.

Among them were photos of Leslie, Pov Lon, David, and Keo on the front porch; my Mom/Grandmother Mary and David in our kitchen; Leslie and Baby David; and David and his siblings.

I looked at these pictures of life and I realized I’d helped take care of four of those people in the last days of their lives. My Mom, Leslie, Keo, Phana. What sadness. But I’m glad there were not more than those four. Here they are with some of the photographs.

Photo: Leslie, Pov Lon holding David, Keo on the front porch (Keo and Lon had been in a war, concentration camps, and refugee camps until about two months before this photo was taken)

————-

My Mom I’d known all my life. She was about 70 when she died in the cottage behind Leslie’s and my house. David, Leslie, John, and I were with her every day. John and I were with her when she passed sometime in a long night.

When she was first diagnosed with small cell cancer of the lung I worked to understand the natural history of that disease. I mapped the likely metastatic pathways of her specific tumor type and the manifestations of metastases so that I could be sure to prevent or treat early any resulting problems (like hypercalcemia or spinal cord compression) or at least understand those problems. That became the basis of a book on end-of-life care in which I mapped the 18 most lethal tumors and associated problems.

A month or so before she passed, my Mom and I journeyed together. Among the things that happened that day (What a day!) was that she forgave herself. After that her pain lessened and her suffering was much less – all the way through to the end of her life.

How my Mom died: https://ckjournal.com/how-my-mom-died

Photo: David showing his Grandmother how to play golf

—————

Leslie and I were together for nearly all of the years since we were 16. She died in my arms at Baylor Medical Center.

In Leslie’s last month I would read to her when we were in bed – first from my blog (the traveling parts), and when that became too difficult for her to track, I would read from Little Golden Books and similar books I had stored in David’s closet. I realized that everything I read was related to going home, finding a safe place, and the like. Books I read to my sweet Leslie included:

Melanie Mouse’s Moving Day
The Fuzzy Duckling
The Shy Little Kitten
The Pokey Little Puppy
Home for a Bunny

Once when I was in David’s closet looking for another book to read to Leslie I saw a book titled, These Happy Golden Years. I burst into tears.

From my journal: Dying is often not easy. These were hard times for her. She underwent profound changes starting at almost exactly 6pm that last (Thursday) night. She went to surgery about 1:30am Friday morning and she passed away back in her room surrounded by pure love about 4:30am. (I’m actually not clear on times, and maybe even days.) I was with her, embracing her, whispering words of love, of remembrance, people she loved, people who loved her, the Song of Ruth…

We are fulfilled. Nothing is undone between us. We have loved and been loved, lived our beliefs, had a happy home, had a beautiful son, had a grand partnership with one another, had many adventures, and so much more—really, it’s been amazing!  

Photo: Leslie and David

—————–

Keo I’d known since she was about 10, when she and her Grandmother lived with us for a few months in 1985. When she became so sick with cancer I went every day to Keo’s apartment. It was a hard time. Keo was ready to die, but nobody in her family was ready for her to go. She begged to die. I spent time with her and her husband and mother on her last day. She was 39 when she died. A few days before her passing I sang this song to Keo:

Keep on walking where the angel showed
(All will be One, all will be One)
Traveling where the angels trod
Over in the old golden land

In the golden book of the golden game
The golden angel wrote my name
When the deal goes down I’ll put on my crown
Over in the old golden land

I won’t need to kiss you when we’re there
(All will be One, all will be One)
I won’t need to miss you when we’re there
Over in the old golden land

We’ll understand it better in the sweet bye and bye
(All will be One, all will be One)
You won’t need to worry and you won’t have to cry
Over in the old golden land.

(Robin Williamson)

Some of Keo’s gripping story is here: https://ckjournal.com/keo

————-

Phana (David’s sister) I’d known since she was four. She was in her 30s when she passed. I took her to chemotherapy almost every week in Dallas and in Houston, to other appointments, and we hung out with David, Charles, and John in San Francisco. We spent many hours together in the car, infusion room, and elsewhere. We shared a lot. When she was close to dying, I thanked her for helping me through my grief from Leslie’s passing. Phana understood immediately. She died right around Christmas while I was in Berkeley.

Photo: David, Chhouen, Phana, Soda in front of our house

Once John and Phana and I were at the corner of Judah and 9th) in San Francisco and Phana was vomiting in the gutter. In just moments a young woman from a clothing store across the street came over with a bottle of water. After Phana passed, I went to that store and thanked the woman. I’m still thankful for her

————–

“I’ll try to be around and about.
But if I’m not,
Then you know that I’m behind your eyelids,
And I’ll meet you there.”

(Terence McKenna)