Permission Slip Away

Friday, June 13, 2014 10 Permalink 3

*This post includes a song as part of the reading experience. It was hand selected for the reading experience. It no longer auto-plays.

EL CAJON, CA

Her breathing – labored. Her limbs – frustrated. Her eyes – open but unable to blink. We have all given my grandma permission to slip away. The time between taking a breath lengthens from three seconds to five. Five to seven. She gasps for air. Now eleven without breath. A gasp. Her son (my uncle) Chris, rubs her chest and tells her, “We love you mom. It’s okay to rest now.”

We surround her. We are going to love her to sleep.

permission slip away

When I got the text from my mom that my grandma was in her final hours, I packed up and headed down to San Diego from LA. My dad’s dad died before I was born of a heart attack. My dad’s mom died of lung cancer while I was on tour. My mom’s dad committed suicide when I was eight. So, I’ve never actually dealt with or seen death. I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to see my final grandparent off. It’s a learning experience that, no matter how painful, I needed to be a part of. I expect this to release a ton of pain over the coming weeks/months. Yay. And that process, for me, will start by unpacking my bags with someone else. On that note…an open letter to my next girlfriend…

 

Dear Girl Who Will Handle The Luggage I Carry,

A little background on my grandmother. She was no stranger to gettin stoned, cross dressing, or hiring strippers for my grandpa. I’m proud to have known this woman for she has lived fully.

Mom & Dad Halloween 1959

She smoked like a chimney, drank like fish, and read books like she owned a national f*****g library. 500 pages in a day was child’s play to her. Oh, you read that book? She read it three times before you could pronounce JRR Tolkien or Dean Koontz.

grandmasmoke

Fair warning – you should know I cringe at the thought of reading. Which is ironic because I write. My high school English teachers couldn’t get me to read the cliff’s notes on the greatest pieces of literature ever written. I would get a pop-quiz on The Great Gatsby, sign my name, and return a blank page to Mr. Hansen before he finished passing the quizzes out. I was that little shit.

This means that I will not teach our children to read. Not because I’m an anti-Reading Rainbow fan, rather, I want our children to grow up and be writers just like their dad. By creating a major literary void early on, our children will feel the natural absence and need to go back and explore it. The best part – they’ll think they figured it out on their own. Poor saps will never know what hit em. I hope you want kids with me. We’ll have two boys, two girls, and six adopteds – I don’t care what they are. I’m not Mormon.

grandmalaugh

Anyway, the last few days have been really hard. We take turns kissing my grandma on the forehead and saying sweet things to her. The intentions behind everything we say are always “I love you and goodbye”. That sucks. And when it feels like she’s going to make her final departure, she takes another deep breath. I begin to wonder why she doesn’t just let go. Then again, is it as simple as “letting go”?

grandma mc

I think she’s scanning her entire life’s memory bank. Processing the last little bits of life. The corners we only learn about on our death beds. Then it seems like she might be slipping away again. So we, again, make sure she knows that is her decision, and that we love her and it is okay if she wants to go. We hold her. But again, she gasps for air. One of us gives her morphine to keep any potential pain to a minimum. We like to think this helps her if she’s suffering. We don’t know if she is, but giving her morphine is a decision made from a place of compassion. So we do…

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If you haven’t been through this, waiting for the inevitable is really hard. Really fucking hard. So, I hug my mom when she cries. Somehow that makes me feel better. Seeing my mom cry is shitty. She’s amazing. So when she cries its super not amazing. Don’t worry though, you’ll get to know her. She’ll be super nice to you if we work out. She’ll actually be super nice to you if we don’t. Moms. Am I right? Just promise you won’t call her if we break up. We probably won’t be friends after. I’d like to think I’m bigger than that, but the truth is I have a track record.

smiley moms

My uncles are stronger than I and this is their mom. I can see my uncle Craig (below right) internalizing as he looks over. He seems to say most of what he needs in his head. I’m a lot like him in that way. Until I volcano. Then you get my wrath. Please ignore the red flags as I raise them.

My uncle Chris (below left) internalizes also, but interestingly, he has taken on a very care-giver role in the situation. Something I had not expected from him. He has been the first to sit down beside her. A real stepper-upper, ya know? There is something about that relationship that he cherishes more than I knew. It’s very cool to watch. I think it’s extra painful for him though. On two separate occasions he thought he was really saying goodbye to his mom. To the point that he broke, let go of her hand, and walked away. Then she would gasp for air. It’s like she knows she’s playing this terrible joke on him. We laughed our asses off when it happened. You have to. The tension is too great not to. And, again, we’re jokesters so it was perfectly appropriate.

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Almost 25 years ago, my grandpa (husband to the woman we’re saying goodbye to) was suffering from esophageal cancer. When swallowing a glass of water became impossible, he wheeled his hospital-supplied “tree of bagged meds” and a shotgun through my family’s backyard and into a neighboring lot. In his suicide note, he apologizes for the selfish act. His death was on November 6th – my sister’s birthday. After talking to my uncle Craig about it, he never considered his dad’s method to be a selfish thing. He was already in an unfathomable amount of pain. So, while his death came under the guise of a selfish act, my grandpa was guided by selfless intentions. He knew how much the cancerous experience was costing the family on all levels. Pictured below: Me trying to cop a bite of cereal from my Grandpa Don.

eating cereal

My grandma has ink all over her hands from pulling the damn fire alarm so many times. That’s not even a funny joke because you have no context for all the craziness this woman has survived. But I promise my comedy is top-notch. It will get better when we are actually together. That or I’ll wait until I’ve locked you in proper to deliver the bad puns and embarrassing shit you shouldn’t say in front of people. Pictured below: Grandma M.C. & Grandpa Don circa 1956

Mom & Dad (Myrtle) 56'

If you can’t make me laugh via text, I won’t marry. Also, marriage isn’t important to me. It’s a piece of paper. However, that unconditional level of commitment is. I learned that from my parents and my grandparents. They’ve all been in good, sometimes challenging, but always healthy marriages.

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I expect a lot from you. I don’t need long to know if you’re right for me or not. I won’t waste your time if you’re shit. I promise. I don’t like long walks on the beach. I love the ocean and my ashes will be scattered there, but walks are boring. If you want to skinny dip, that’s an ocean activity I totally approve. Even if we are on the cold ass west coast. I also like reality TV and will only ever make it through the first two seasons of any tv show. It gets stupid after that. Even Breaking Bad. Blasphemy, I know. But if that’s a deal breaker, you’re better off without me.

SIDE NOTE: I’m also looking for a good cook. I can’t cook. I don’t care about the stereotypes of women or anything. Its just that I can’t cook. So if you’re a good cook and I’m not, I’ll swap you skill for skill. You teach me how to cook healthy. I teach you how to beat Call of Duty in Veteran mode.

Back to the fire alarm though. That was a figure of speech. Of course, you knew this because you are also funny. My grandma, who you will not meet, but you will hear much about, has had skin cancer, heart attacks, and strokes galore. And yet, the energizer bunny keeps going and going and going. She scares everyone every time, but she’s a fighter among fighters. I bet she’d get a few punches in on Tyson before he’d bite her.

grandma-bw

Don’t worry though, you’ll get an earful on my other grandparents and every past relationship as well. Whole lotta pain there. I’ll probably have to read you some poetry or share some grandiose artist-type crap thing I’ll make on the heels of this experience.

That said, my grandma MC is a beautiful woman. This is someone who has been challenged by life, and in turn, has challenged me. She has seen some shit. She has lived a good life. This is someone who has inspired endless jokes in my family. An amazing family at that. I warn you though…we’ve all learned to laugh at a very early age. And we all laugh…a lot. I’m honored to share the bloodline. Pictured below: Craig (left), Candy (my mom/center), Chris (right)

kids smiles

If you don’t like comedy, hand-me-down recipes, the occasional drink, grilling, black labs, big cities, small suburbs, camping, surfing, running, spaghetti on Christmas, deep talk, coffee talk, or not talking, you’re on your own and you’re batshit crazy because we’re awesome. But if you’re cool with being embraced by a family that is able to laugh their asses off through death’s bitter process, by celebrating the joys of life, we just may have a chance. Without my grandma I cannot be me. So you must respect her authority. I do.

grandma laughs 2

It’s the morning of June 13th. My mom’s birthday. I’ve been writing this all night on 5-hour energies. I haven’t slept more than a half hour. She’s been at this fight for nearly nine years. Nine years since her heart attack in Las Vegas. My keyboard is wet and the energizer bunny is no longer in the room. It’s very close now. It’s about 7am.

Her heart slows. Her feet are turning a grayish purple. They’re cold to the touch now. She swings in and out of fever. Her breath is extremely shallow. Like a fish out of water. She can’t swallow the accumulating spit at the back of her throat. She gargles with every breath. That is a sight and sound you cannot prepare for. I finally understand why my parents have protected me from this.

I am here. I’m to the brim with grief and gratitude. It’s amazing how those two things can go hand in hand. It is a true yin and yang. It’s almost as if they are they are equal and opposite. F***. That’s an epiphany if I’ve ever had one. The smiles this woman has inspired are too many to share. Look at that face and try your best to frown. I dare you. I feel lucky and honored to have known this woman.

grandma 3 - plays with sisters

At 9:04am, on June 13, 2014, we watched my mom’s mom, Mary Carol Poulsen, at 84 years old, take her last breath. My mom considers it a privilege and an honor to share her birthday with her mother’s passing. What a woman my grandma was. What a life. What a beauty. You got some serious shoes to fill, potential girlfriend.

Grandma MC

To be with the ones we love on their journeys. This is why we live.

-Ben

6 Totally Doable Things to Climb Out of a Creative Slump

Monday, June 2, 2014 0 Permalink 0

Whether you’re a creative type or note, we all have our creative outlets. Which means we all, from time to time, will suffer creative slumps. Here’s five ways to encourage the discovery of your creative side.

1. Wake up before everyone.  Yes, I mean 5am.  Or 6am.  And no, not every day.  But, yes, that means try to go to bed a little earlier.  You’ll find you think much more clearly and you’ll lessen that “lack of productivity” guilt as the day wears on.  You’ll often spark an idea in those golden morning hours.  It’s a very natural transition to continue the imaginative process post-dream…particularly with that lazy morning brain.

2. Write down every idea you have for a few days.  You’re WAY more creatively active than you give yourself credit for.  That includes you, accountants, production assistants, and anyone “working for the man”.  Keep a pen on your person.  Text yourself.  Write on a napkin.  In a notepad.  In your laptop.  Email yourself.  Tell a friend your idea.  It’s kind of fun even if you never do anything with those ideas. And bets are, you’ve already let too many slip by.

3. Surround yourself with people.  You need breaks from creativity and humans are fantastically inspiring in the most wonderful ways.  It takes the observance of a singular human interaction to recognize the beginnings of an entire feature film or book or photograph or painting or poem or anything creative for that matter.

4. Try ten minutes of free-flow writing with PEN and paper.  Truly free.  NOT on a computer.  Do not restrict yourself.  Do not judge yourself.  Do not correct grammatical mistakes.  Do not cross out words.  Even if it doesn’t make sense.  Even if you can hardly read it.  You’ll appreciate that fact when you read it back over.  Write, literally everything, as you think it for ten minutes.  Try to keep up with yourself. You’re really good at thinking.  You’ve been doing it your whole life.  People laugh at this sometimes, but when you start dumping your thoughts onto paper, you really start to learn about yourself.  It’s sometimes jarring, but always revealing.  By emptying some space in your head you make comfortable room for some of that creative work you’ve been pining for.

5. Seek out and reach out to people who already do what you wish to be doing.  Read that again if it didn’t make sense.  There are many out there who would love to be validated in their work by helping “the grasshopper” finder his or her legs.  You’d be amazed at how true this statement is.  For every person who protects their work and processes with an arrogant diligence, there are ten more who can’t wait to share in a collaborative and creative experience.  And remember, your challenges and questions for a mentor create an environment of mutual benefit.

6. Get your ass into nature. Seriously. The natural order of the animal and plant kingdoms will force a bit of perspective when you’re standing at the base of a 100ft tall tree. It’s nice to center yourself in a quiet place, but even nicer when you realize there is life all around you, all the time.

Go. See. Do. Be.