Jerry's Good Word

Long before blogs, we had newspaper columnists. I'm glad we've still got 'em. One of my favorities is Jerry Johnston of the Deseret Morning News. Jerry and I became friends years ago when I was in the radio business. We've had some great discussions over the years, usually over lunch.

This morning when I grabbed the newspaper off the front porch, Jerry's column caught my eye. He wrote today about renewal, how our bodies do this, and how we need to make it happen in other ways as well. He wrote about having lunch with an old freind and those conversations about things that matter. I'm due for a lunch with Jerry. Maybe this column will remind you of a lunch you need schedule.

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On Winning and Writing

"The next best thing to winning is losing! At least you've been in the race." --Nellie Hershey Tullis

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self." --Cyril Connolly

A Virtual Anniversary

You married her 60 years ago today. You loved her smile, brown eyes, talent, intelligence, and the way you felt when you were together. She loved your curly brown hair, blue eyes, your courage and confidence, the ease and depth of your conversations.

Your work in the FBI took the two of you from Detroit to Cleveland, El Paso, Los Alamos, Ogden and what was then a little Utah town called Bountiful. You didn't live to celebrate your 20th anniversary. The term downwinder wasn't mentioned in your obituary. You now have three granddaughters, three grandsons and a great grandson. Happy 60th anniversary, Dad.

Worth Repeating

I ran this quotation in a previous post, but I'm running it again. I know this is related to my weekend experience. I'm not entirely sure how this all fits together, but I guess that's the beauty of a blog. It gives me some space to figure it out. In the meantime, here's the quote.

"If only you could sense how important you are to the lives of those you meet; how important you can be to people you may never even dream of. There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person." --Fred Rogers

Survivors at the Summit

I didn't hesitate when Charlie inivited me to help haul donated Starbucks coffee up to Snowbird for Survivors at the Summit, an annual event of the Cancer Wellness House. It's hard to beat the combination of good company, mountain scenery, hotcakes for breakfast, live music from his son-in-law's band, and the chance to help out in a good cause.

Just before noon we boarded the tram, reached the summit of Hidden Peak, and helped staple a last line of yellow flags joining the dozens already in place. Each flag bore the name of a loved-one touched by cancer. Some carried the names of survivors. Many honored the memory those who lost their battle.

Guest speaker Steve Tempest expressed gratitude for his adoption into the fraternity of cancer survivors. When he first started chemo he didn't like the names of the poisons dripping into his bloodstream. The all ended with "cide" as in insecticide, homicide, genocide. Later when his tumors shrunk by 95%, he thought of this term: "life-saving wonder fluids that can extend or save life." His cancer has returned, but he says nothing could be as devastating as his first diagnosis. Now he says he'll go with the flow and do anything to extend time with his family.

He shared several observations about cancer and life.

Enjoy every sandwich.

Art, food and music came alive with his cancer diagnosis.

One life-threatening illness is worth 10,000 meditations.

Pain is God's megaphone to get our attention.

No one is promised tomorrow. Enjoy today's simple, tender moments.

We all have been born. We all will die. The gift of cancer is now. Why not enjoy now?

Don't limit yourself to, "I'll be happy when..."

Live in the now. Now is all we have.

Two of the flags flying at the summit carried the names of my parents. Dad, who was likely a downwinder, died of lung cancer in 1963. A few years later mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has survived 33 years. She and my step-dad (who is also a cancer survivor) still live independently. He golfs and writes. She still makes time for bridge with the girls and a monthly piano lesson. I could have also placed flags there for my brother-in-law Dan who is in remission from multiple myeloma, or my grandfather who died of leukemia when my mom was a toddler.

I wasn't prepared for the emotion of stepping off the tram, seeing those flags, knowing that each carried someone's story of struggle. I felt humble and proud, grateful and sad, connected to eternity and mortality. Sometimes I'm not comfortable with my own tears. This morning I just let 'em flow.

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20 Years with the Zen Writers Group

"I joined the Zen Writers Group 20 years ago. Only a couple of us were published writers then, but now most of us have seen our work in print, broadcast or online. The group's been a profound source of inspiration and energy, and just a lot of fun."

That's a quotation from the future. Right now we're just getting started. In fact the first meeting was last night. But the group has already been together all summer as part of an 8-week creative non-fiction workshop. We jelled within the structure of a weekly class, now we're going to try continuing on without our able instructor.

The above quotation isn't just wishful thinking. We've heard of at least one group that did start 20 years ago and they're still going strong today.

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