Hamm On Wry

It’s been a stressful week. It’s the 2nd anniversary of Richard’s death, and it’s the first time that I’ve been able to spend it with Janna basically attached to her hip. During the first year of grieving she couldn’t handle being around me too much as she would attempt to convince herself it was 2005 and my being there was normal because we had lived together in 2005 while Richard was in Iraq. When he returned at the end of 2005, a new chapter of their lives started, and I helped to smooth that transition for them both since the Army hasn’t figured out how.

And then, bam! Gone.

Now, Janna, The Cheerleader, has had to deal with this loss for two years. Day in and day out she’s worked to get her life back, get her sensibilities back, and to get as well as she can. Not easy, not fast, and certainly not painless. But still, moving forward in big ways. And hanging out with her 24/7 is a lot of fun even when she’s screaming. Sometimes, because she is.

That being said, the little extra stressors in her life are not much fun. They suck. Like, transmission needs to be replaced at a cost of several grand and lots of without car time. Not making her happy.

Consider as well that the car got it’s original transmission changed at approx. 78k miles in October 2005, the second swapped out after only 25k miles and 18 months, and now the third is being swapped out for the fourth after a mere 20k miles and 12 months. Not pretty.

Worse, the car is now out of the extended warranty, so the transmission isn’t covered in any way. And as we all know, they aren’t cheap either.

But we called Honda USA and went over the events, and asked. What could hurt if we asked for help, the worst thing they could do is say no, and then we were no worse off for asking. They said they would review the case and get back to us in few days. Usually, this is corporate speak for “Let me get a social normative graph because it’s something to refer to and will take time, tricking one to think we’re making the effort, when we’re just stalling” but not this time.

After considering all that Janna has had to deal with this, it’s been sucky. Just fucking sucky. Having the car issues to deal with all throughout the Anniversary day did some good in distracting from the insanity inherent in a 32 year old widow’s life. It seemed like a good thing to me, but Janna felt that she didn’t get anything accomplished on thursday, even tho she spent the day reconnecting with various parts of her family, both the family she was born into and the family that she was married into. None of it was easy.

Honda has decided to pay all but 10% of the bill to replace the transmission. It will therefore have a 3 year/36,000 mile warranty for the transmission itself. So the little people can play their game again. And we whole-heartedly thank them.

YAY!

I’ve been offline since late last week, which was when I had a last-minute deal appear in my lap and proceed to shred my thursday and friday like a demon-possessed wood chipper. Oh so much fun.

And let’s not forget the random weather in Montana that included a blizzard that appeared at 2 am Saturday and brought along the wind from a hurricane and a couple of lightening bolts left over from last spring. It seems that the weather was being run by the same windows machine that did the fireworks for Seattle. Heavy, wet, sticky snow that was piling up sideways as I needed to depart to drive to Bozeman for a flight. Rapture.

Anyway, it ended up being a non-issue, as the new PT drives excellently (more on that lovely bit later) and the storm and I parted ways after 32 miles. I made my flight, although when I landed in Denver to switch planes, I got a voice mail from United that if I missed my flight, I could get right on the next one out of Bozeman. Nice service, really, as it had to arrive right about when I checked in, since I turned my phone off after calling home to say the snow hadn’t killed me.

Now I’m in Houston for the Second Anniversary of Hell. Mostly, it’s been pretty good. I’m not looking forward to some of the events we have to do for this, but I am glad to be here. I want to know what the word would be that means ‘an obligation that honors me to undertake, that creates happiness out of misery, and that helps all involved in different ways, but that still sucks bilgewater’. I’m sure there is a German word for it, along the lines of schadenfraude, but it’s not been made into a song yet.

Anyway, back in Houston with the Cheerleader. Back dealing with emotional wounds that blacken the sun and destroy souls, an ongoing battle that seems to finally be going our way. I wouldn’t walk away for anything, but I wish no one would ever go through this.

Ok, so I get to play Proud Uncle Auntie Kev as my niece, the Ever Adorable One, sings her first solo in a concert. I must say, she’s damn good. Enjoy!

I don’t really know what to write about this, but here goes. Yesterday at around 3:15 pm my grandpa Hal passed away. While I’m saddened that he’s gone, and he will be missed, I’m glad that he’s no longer in pain. Cancer seems to grab many in my family, but his seemed particularly horrible, especially because two months ago he was still picking up wings to rivet to his airplane.

I have to point out that he had an amazing life. He had many talents, was an amazing engineer, convinced the tiny town of Helena, Montana to build a new and better airport terminal so that 737s could land, created a scholarship fund for the Technical College in Helena to help those in need get an education, which he knew was the key to a better life. He was romantic enough to buy my gramma Jane a convertible Mustang, a green 1968 dream machine, so she could drive it once, with the top down, in the sun, before cancer took her away. He remarried to Zola, and the two of them were the cutest couple at the airport, always putting some magnificent flying machine together, chasing the dream of the next flight. Zola, although his second wife, was never second best, and she treated him like a king. He was 80 years old. He had at least another 80 years to live. Damn cancer.

My impression was that he wasn’t around when I was a kid, but we lived in Denver, and Hal and Jane were in Helena, so it’s not like they were down the road and skipped visiting. I really remember seeing him and Jane for the holidays to put out the candles-in-sacks all over their neighborhood. Those are great memories, but I’m still confused to the origins of the ‘Tom & Jerry’ drink we had. But impressions can have no real bearing on reality and while I don’t remember seeing Hal and Jane much until after I turned seven, I’m sure I probably did.

Jane died when I was eight, the same year, just a few months before grandma Sporty, my mom’s mom. I remember them both, although the memories are becoming more and more just impressions. Sporty was bright, wild, amazing, and lively, and Jane was calm, graceful, elegant and generous. But I don’t really remember Hal from then.

I remember when he and Zola got married, first because the wedding was in Vegas, second because I sang “Wind Beneath My Wings” for them. A more fitting song I can’t imagine, as over the next 20 years the two of them would travel the world, visiting Russia, Australia, and heaven only knows where else. They spent summers in Helena, avoiding the crushing summer heat of their winter home in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. They flew together, Zola earned her Instrument Rating, which is a very difficult task, ask any pilot. He couldn’t have been more proud, and while the trips overseas were great for both of them, I know they’d both have just as much fun just flying around in their own planes, too. I can’t imagine what she’s going through, I just hope she knows she’s loved, too.

Hal kinda showed up at various times in my life after that, giving advice, telling me history, and always asking “Hon, when are you going to learn to fly a plane?” I never saw him angry, I’ve never heard him raise his voice but once, and that was when were in Japan and his nerves had frayed - but so had everyone else’s, and even then he wasn’t loud or dangerous, he just was upset, and that was so new and different from his calm, cool, casual-in-a-business-suit-and-tie demeanor that it shocked me. I just never saw it again.

He had a whiskey voice, even though he was a scotch man to the last. Of course, he preferred ice-cream by far. His voice could capture a room without yelling, would cut and twirl words with the faintest echo of his Southern upbringing, and would always include “Hon” when talking to anyone in his family.

One of life’s more inexplicable coincidences happened as my youngest sister Tricia just got final confirmation that she’s pregnant the same day Hal left us. He’ll miss the new great-grandchild, who is bound to be another pilot-in-the-wings, I’m sure. I don’t know that I can do you justice in telling that kid who you are, but I’ll sure try.

I will miss you Grampa. I’ll miss you a lot. Be safe on your journey, and may your soul know peace.