For whatever reason, Lee became a bit of a hero for me on the night I met him. And I will confess, I have engaged in more hero worship than is considered healthy in ordinary human relationships. But the truth of the matter is this: Lee Wallace is the sort of person I hope to be someday.
Lee and I became marginally acquainted through a gigantic internet club called facebook. In this way, I learned that Lee is married to Leslie Cantu. And Lee and Leslie have a dog named Stella. Stella is the primary reason Lee and I are friends now.
Early in our acquaintance Lee posted a request on his facebook page for a person with a dog to bring this dog to his house to run around with Stella. In return, he would provide the owner of the visiting dog with beer to drink during their stay. In response, I posted that I am not a dog but would love to come over and run around with Stella. I could use the exercise. And water is my recreational beverage of choice. So I'd be a cheap date. Lee did not respond to this offer. I suppose he thought I was joking. But each time I encountered him at a music performance, I must have reiterated my offer. Because eventually, Stella and I started taking walks together.
It took a while for Stella and I to get used to one another. Over time, we grew to understand each other and developed a friendship. Yes: dogs and people can be friends. As Stella and I grew closer, Lee and I developed a friendship as well.
~~~~~~~
Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis is a little understood disease. For reasons unknown to doctors, it creates scar tissue or thickening in the lungs which renders them incapable of processing the amount of oxygen needed for everyday activities and, ultimately, for survival. As the disease progresses, even the simplest tasks leave a person breathless and fatigued: walking from room to room, opening a bag of dog treats, talking.
No one understands what causes idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, hence the word "idiopathic." Idiopathic means "what the fuck?" Likewise, there is no cure. Life spans have been extended by lung transplantation. At first Lee did not care to pursue a transplant. But he said to me recently that as his condition has worsened, as he has grown incapable of doing so much that he loves to do, he wants to give it a shot. Just to be able to do those things again. He told me on a separate occasion that he really hopes he gets a new set of lungs. He said he will be all over doing stuff with Stella again. He will be stupid with his dog. People will think he's crazy.
Lee went to the Cleveland Clinic to be evaluated for a lung transplant. He was subjected to three days of rigorous testing which left him physically exhausted. He and Leslie returned to North Carolina to await the decision of the medical team in Cleveland.
March 28. It was a Monday. I called Lee and polluted the air with pointless gibberish, eventually leading up to the statement that I would not be able to walk Stella that day. Lee simply said, "I'm going to hang up now." And this simple statement sent an alert. I was ill at ease for the rest of the day. That night, I logged on to the facebook and discovered a post by Leslie.
Bad news, Lee was denied for a transplant in Cleveland. Same reason as Duke, the esophagus issue is just too high risk. Not sure what our next steps are, if any. Thanks again to all of you for your kind words and support lately.
~~~~~~~
Rest on your red pillow
I am right beside you
I do a radio show once a week on the Guilford College station, WQFS. The name of my show is "Worker's Playtime." The name is an homage to a Billy Bragg album. But it also describes the nature of my show. I work frickin' hard all week. My radio show is my playtime - my two hours of sanity a week. I try to make it fun for my listeners. Hopefully, they listen while they are at work and enjoy a little renegade activity during the daily grind.
This week, I put together, at the spur of the moment, a set of songs that made me think of Lee: songs I thought he might like to hear if he were listening, or songs that he turned me on to, or songs that I'd heard him perform. I thought that by playing these songs, by sending them out over the radio waves, I would send a super huge dollop of love to Lee and Leslie.
The last three songs I played in this set were "Paths that Cross" by Patti Smith, "Rainbow Connection" performed by Kermit the Frog and "All the World is Green" by Tom Waits. At the end of this set, I received a telephone call from a listener in Virginia. She told me that each of those songs held a particular memory for her and hearing them played one after another really touched her.
The Tom Waits song reminded her of a time when she was a waitress and served Tom Waits on several occasions. He always asked for a cheap bottle of red wine, she said. And this amused her.
Rainbow Connection reminded her of the time she took her daughter to see "The Muppet Movie." Her daughter later performed this song in her stage debut as a youngster.
She told me that as a waitress, she had also served Patti Smith. Once, Patti Smith was signing records and this woman took her daughter with her to the signing. Her daughter had a wooden frog on a motorcycle that she'd gotten in New Mexico. Patti Smith wanted to buy it from her. Even though the girl wouldn't part with it, Patti Smith autographed this four year-old's forearm.
The caller's voice became tearful as she expressed her gratitude to me. She told me that music is everything to her. She said if she were to lose her hearing - her ability to hear music - and her vision - her ability to read music and play piano - she couldn't live. I understand this sentiment completely. And we shared a moment of resonance, this unmet friend and I. I told her I'd played these songs for a friend with IPF. And she said her daughter has an auto-immune disease which is finally being managed. But at age 36, she weighs only 84 pounds.
The following morning while Lee was at his physical therapy class, I went to his house and swept up the piles of pollen covering the sidewalk in front of his house. Even though I knew this would do very little to relieve the added stress of pollen on his lungs, I felt compelled to clear it from his path.
As I was sweeping, a man came out of a house across the street and started walking towards me. His face, while not unfriendly, seemed a bit intimidating at first. A weathered scowl coupled with unrealized potential. A lone moth flying haphazardly into a flame.
"It sure is nice of you to help Lee."
I could think of nothing to say at first. "It's an honor," is what I finally came up with.
"How is he doing, anyway?"
By the question, I assumed he knew all about the idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. But he did not. He was surprised to learn that the oxygen delivery van that he'd seen parked outside of Lee's house was actually delivering oxygen to Lee and not to the old man living next to Lee.
"I don't socialize much. I don't really know my neighbors. Lee and I met when our cars collided. But he always seemed so nice. And he never smoked, did he? It makes no sense."
Sam - that's his name - asked me a couple of random questions. Like "Do you go to that there - what's it called - Merlefest?" And "You seem educated. Did you go to college?"
Sam has a bit of a wildness about him. Like he's been away from people for too long and doesn't quite know how to act or what to talk about. Yet for whatever reason, he went out of his way to speak to me. He decided to help me with the pollen project. So he went across the street to get his rake. "I won't be but a minute."
He raked. I swept. We piled the pollen into a trash bag. He talked about golf, which apparently is the only real thing that interests him. Once our task was complete, he thanked me for helping Lee. He told me he had a lot to do that day, but he was glad he came over. He met a nice lady. I told him that I walk Stella nearly every day and he'd probably see me around.
Before I left, I swept some pollen off Lee and Leslie's driveway. As I swept, I noticed a dead snake. A small, gray snake. A rat snake, I think.
I used to be frightened of snakes. And even finding one dead would make me panic. But over the years I've become fond of snakes and even have a certain admiration for their particular beauty. Even though the act of sweeping this snake's body into a trash bag was irreverent, I held a great reverence in my heart for this being. And I contemplated the fact that in Native American traditions, Snake represents transmutation. The transmutation of poisons. The transmutation of the life-death-rebirth cycle. Snake magic creates the ability to experience anything willingly and without resistance.
I contemplated Snake with gratitude. It makes perfect sense that Snake would appear now, when I am trying to make sense of a senseless circumstance and, at the same time, attempting to send vast waves of love to Lee and Leslie. Through playing music. Walking Stella. Sweeping sidewalks. Whatever I can do.
There are some things which are permanently not alright that I cannot fix. But I can transcend the need to fix these things. I can transmute the negative reactions to unpleasant realities and simply allow love to flow into the most trivial of tasks. Small acts of love create a ripple effect. There's no telling how many lives you'll touch in one kind deed.
The love that I attempted to send out to Lee and Leslie has somehow multiplied and manifested in the hearts of two strangers. I somehow managed to touch two people I don't know on a heart level.
This lesson, in and of itself, would not have come to me in this particular raiment had it not been for Lee and his unpleasant reality.
And this is how I know that Beauty exists always and in everything.
~~~~~~~
My heart broke into several pieces that night. I wept profusely. I weep still when I let myself. I want so badly to be able to do something for Lee and Leslie that will make everything alright. But there is nothing. It just isn't alright.~~~~~~~~
I do a radio show once a week on the Guilford College station, WQFS. The name of my show is "Worker's Playtime." The name is an homage to a Billy Bragg album. But it also describes the nature of my show. I work frickin' hard all week. My radio show is my playtime - my two hours of sanity a week. I try to make it fun for my listeners. Hopefully, they listen while they are at work and enjoy a little renegade activity during the daily grind.
This week, I put together, at the spur of the moment, a set of songs that made me think of Lee: songs I thought he might like to hear if he were listening, or songs that he turned me on to, or songs that I'd heard him perform. I thought that by playing these songs, by sending them out over the radio waves, I would send a super huge dollop of love to Lee and Leslie.
The last three songs I played in this set were "Paths that Cross" by Patti Smith, "Rainbow Connection" performed by Kermit the Frog and "All the World is Green" by Tom Waits. At the end of this set, I received a telephone call from a listener in Virginia. She told me that each of those songs held a particular memory for her and hearing them played one after another really touched her.
The Tom Waits song reminded her of a time when she was a waitress and served Tom Waits on several occasions. He always asked for a cheap bottle of red wine, she said. And this amused her.
Rainbow Connection reminded her of the time she took her daughter to see "The Muppet Movie." Her daughter later performed this song in her stage debut as a youngster.
She told me that as a waitress, she had also served Patti Smith. Once, Patti Smith was signing records and this woman took her daughter with her to the signing. Her daughter had a wooden frog on a motorcycle that she'd gotten in New Mexico. Patti Smith wanted to buy it from her. Even though the girl wouldn't part with it, Patti Smith autographed this four year-old's forearm.
The caller's voice became tearful as she expressed her gratitude to me. She told me that music is everything to her. She said if she were to lose her hearing - her ability to hear music - and her vision - her ability to read music and play piano - she couldn't live. I understand this sentiment completely. And we shared a moment of resonance, this unmet friend and I. I told her I'd played these songs for a friend with IPF. And she said her daughter has an auto-immune disease which is finally being managed. But at age 36, she weighs only 84 pounds.
~~~~~~~
The following morning while Lee was at his physical therapy class, I went to his house and swept up the piles of pollen covering the sidewalk in front of his house. Even though I knew this would do very little to relieve the added stress of pollen on his lungs, I felt compelled to clear it from his path.
As I was sweeping, a man came out of a house across the street and started walking towards me. His face, while not unfriendly, seemed a bit intimidating at first. A weathered scowl coupled with unrealized potential. A lone moth flying haphazardly into a flame.
"It sure is nice of you to help Lee."
I could think of nothing to say at first. "It's an honor," is what I finally came up with.
"How is he doing, anyway?"
By the question, I assumed he knew all about the idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. But he did not. He was surprised to learn that the oxygen delivery van that he'd seen parked outside of Lee's house was actually delivering oxygen to Lee and not to the old man living next to Lee.
"I don't socialize much. I don't really know my neighbors. Lee and I met when our cars collided. But he always seemed so nice. And he never smoked, did he? It makes no sense."
Sam - that's his name - asked me a couple of random questions. Like "Do you go to that there - what's it called - Merlefest?" And "You seem educated. Did you go to college?"
Sam has a bit of a wildness about him. Like he's been away from people for too long and doesn't quite know how to act or what to talk about. Yet for whatever reason, he went out of his way to speak to me. He decided to help me with the pollen project. So he went across the street to get his rake. "I won't be but a minute."
He raked. I swept. We piled the pollen into a trash bag. He talked about golf, which apparently is the only real thing that interests him. Once our task was complete, he thanked me for helping Lee. He told me he had a lot to do that day, but he was glad he came over. He met a nice lady. I told him that I walk Stella nearly every day and he'd probably see me around.
Before I left, I swept some pollen off Lee and Leslie's driveway. As I swept, I noticed a dead snake. A small, gray snake. A rat snake, I think.
I used to be frightened of snakes. And even finding one dead would make me panic. But over the years I've become fond of snakes and even have a certain admiration for their particular beauty. Even though the act of sweeping this snake's body into a trash bag was irreverent, I held a great reverence in my heart for this being. And I contemplated the fact that in Native American traditions, Snake represents transmutation. The transmutation of poisons. The transmutation of the life-death-rebirth cycle. Snake magic creates the ability to experience anything willingly and without resistance.
I contemplated Snake with gratitude. It makes perfect sense that Snake would appear now, when I am trying to make sense of a senseless circumstance and, at the same time, attempting to send vast waves of love to Lee and Leslie. Through playing music. Walking Stella. Sweeping sidewalks. Whatever I can do.
There are some things which are permanently not alright that I cannot fix. But I can transcend the need to fix these things. I can transmute the negative reactions to unpleasant realities and simply allow love to flow into the most trivial of tasks. Small acts of love create a ripple effect. There's no telling how many lives you'll touch in one kind deed.
The love that I attempted to send out to Lee and Leslie has somehow multiplied and manifested in the hearts of two strangers. I somehow managed to touch two people I don't know on a heart level.
This lesson, in and of itself, would not have come to me in this particular raiment had it not been for Lee and his unpleasant reality.
And this is how I know that Beauty exists always and in everything.
Kathy! It´s Chelsea here, writing you from way way down south in El Salvador. I just stumbled across your blog through thebeautifulKatie Yow´s, and your words made my hour, if not my day (we´ll see-- there´s still more day to be had). You are so great and your words are too, thank you for creating a way to share you with all us ramblin-folk! xxxx
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