We got a call this morning from Doug's mom. Seems Doug's grandmother passed away this morning. Doug knew it was coming. He counseled his mom last week when she called and described what was going on with her. He told her, "mom, she is actively dying." I had to go look it up. I learned a lot about my husband's knowledge of palliative care during the dying process, and how he was politely letting his mom know that it would not be long before grandma passed away. And Doug was right.

The phone rang at 6:50 this morning. Geoff being the only one up at that hour answered the phone, and chatted with his grandma for a minute before bringing the phone to us

"Grandma's on the phone," he said as he stood next to our bed. I was fast asleep but heard his voice soft and clear.

Here we go.

I got up and started the coffee, encouraged Geoff to ready up for school. Doug talked to his mom until 7:30. Grandma died at the hospital, in her sleep. Doug discussed our tentative plans, and left it with her that we would come down as soon as we could possibly do so.

It wasn't a surprise. This past month was hard on a body, and she bore it and let it go. I cried as I washed some dishes and listened to them talk.

I was glad we got to see her in November at Sarah and Tom's wedding, but I'm also sad we didn't get a last real chance to see her or be by her side because we knew this was coming.

I think Doug was waiting to see if she made it through this weekend to maybe go make a visit, but he didn't get the chance to

.... and now we're going to go make a visit anyway.

---

Geoff knew something was up. He came in while Doug and I were discussing whether or not we should tell him now or wait until after school. "Um, so... what's going on?"

Doug opted to tell him. We sat here at the dining table and he bit back tears and his skin flushed as he started to fight the sad. "That's it," he pronounced, "I'm officially an unbeliever because God keeps killing my family." I guess Uncle John's passing in 2006 was still pretty fresh in his mind, fresh enough to feel God was ganging up on us and picking us all off.

We let him know that this was not unexpected, she was old. She had a good run. "Yeah, but the oldest person in the world is 114, so why couldn't she make it a little closer to that age!?" His cuteness touched me deeply, and he'll kick your ass if you say that he's cute so watch out. Doug encouraged him to recognize that great grandma had a really good run of things, a good family, she was good to us and loved us deeply, and she loved God very much so we are certain that she awaits us in Heaven. She'd be sad if she knew Geoff was giving up on God just because she had passed on. He seemed to get that. We gave him the option of skipping school but he went. I'm glad he did. I hope he had friends he could talk to in class who would be willing to hear what he was feeling, and gave to him the support he needs from his peers and friends.

Geoff, your GGS loved you. Please, do not ever forget that buddy. Follow her examples of loving God and family, and being a good listener, and you will do well on this earth.

---

I'm heading to work tomorrow, and we will leave after we drop the dogs off at the kennel at 4:30pm. Not sure how far we'll make it. I'm hoping maybe Clearfield PA. We shall see.

Hopefully it will not be anything like our last funeral related trip that we made out there in 2006. Fingers crossed and prayers go to God...

I've arranged for kenneling for the three dogs, babysitting for the guinea pigs and Geoff's betta fish Kevin the Red. I've let the right people know at both schools that both children will not be in school Thursday through Monday. I've got my work done to the point that it is under control and tomorrow will hopefully just be incidentals and some graphic work that I do weekly that is 99% done and just needs to be fully completed.

And when people ask Doug what she died of his answer is "she died of being 86." And that's the truth.

---

In other news, a friend of mine from High School wrote a book.

Now, everyone's friend, uncle, dog and cat lately are getting book deals. Not sure how the publication industry is "dying" the death it is when I personally bought four memoirs of people I either have been reading for a while (Rob @ Schuyler's Monster) or I know personally.

In this case, the book is by Christopher Campion, and it is called "Escape From Bellevue, A Dive Bar Odyssey."

I enjoyed it so much I actually took the time to review it for Amazon.com, and what is extra frightening is I actually think my review itself is one of the better things I've written in my life.

I would encourage anyone to go read this book, whether or not they give a damn about an alcoholic out of control lead singer of an indie rock band, or the underground music scene in NYC during the late 80s/and most of the 90s... But simply because I'm nothing more than a pimp for all my friends, yo.

And I've got my boy Chrissy's back. After all he's been through, my brother Huntingtonian can use some serious love.

Here's my review:

Growing up a fellow Huntingtonian from a "Livers with Feet" family, I found Chris Campion's Icarian tale very compelling. Unlike Icarus, who was presumed drowned at sea, Mr. Campion gets the chance to swim to a metaphorical shore and fly again. And crash again, swim to shore. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Campion asks you to grab hold tightly to his pinstripe jacketed coattails as he runs roughshod (drunk, stoned and high) through Huntington's Stinky Corner, to Vanillanova, to the bright lights of the Bowery Ballroom, and then unfortunately the smelly gutter behind it.

With the gift of gab as if he'd been lowered by the ankles at birth to kiss our shared Motherland's famous Blarney Stone, Campion is "that guy" at the end of the bar in Finnegan's (actually, more like The Valencia); full of stories, full of adventures, full of booze and full of crap. He sets up hilarious vignette after unbelievable vignette, from high school garage band insanity, to a sister rising to his defense with a dairy-laden baked potato in hand, to coked-up rodeo clowns (seriously), to the straight jacket ... and then back to off-Broadway success. You almost get a "Malcolm in the Middle" feel as he sets things up for you, dear reader, and turns to the invisible camera addressing just you, to let you know in that same Frankie Muniz kind of way, "this is where it gets REALLY weird."

"Escape from Bellevue" is more than your standard Mr. Mackey "Drugs are bad, m'kay?" tale of rockstar self- and over-indulgence. This is the tale of a young man's complete loss of faith, not simply in himself but in his God. Combine that kind of existential crisis with a lifestyle fueled by substances not naturally found in the human body, and you get a rather volatile anti-hero of whom the Irish Poets would all be proud.

My only criticism of the book is that it is written too colloquially, with too many "oughta" "kinda" and other slangy words and terms used, and I found it distracting at times. It works at the end of the bar, but in a novel or memoirs, that sort of writing should be tidied up a bit. Campion confesses he has never thought of himself as a writer, but rather a songwriter... but this would have been the perfect spot for an editor clean up sloppy, easy writing and make it the work of a real "writer." Because Campion, whether he likes it or not, is a writer.

To take a famous quote entirely out of context "God watches out for little children, fools, drunks..." and at most times through this book your humble narrator is all three of those things simultaneously, keeping God quite busy. Whether or not Christopher John Campion finds that relationship with God again, I'll leave it to you to find out by reading the book. But as I finished the story late one night, the following morning I only had to laugh and thank Him that Chris survived to these days to tell his tales. I hope you'll pick up this book and feel the same.

Chris and I actually discussed at length my one "fault" that I found in the book. He said he wanted it to sound like he was talking, telling the story. He didn't want it edited down to take out the "am I right?" "ya know..." and other things one says when one is storytelling. His editors desperately tried to get him to change that... and he said it lost the humor, the story telling, the edge, and sounded too antiseptic.

I told him that it is really easy to make a narrative sound like it is still a storytelling piece by editing it up a bit. Really make it a story, instead of a very long anecdotal episode.

We agreed to disagree. And it was a beautiful discussion.

Also, I confessed to him that until I was 30 I didn't know there was a lighthouse in Huntington Harbor. I'd never heard of it, never seen it. In the book he outlines a very specific adventure he took out there the night before a family intervention with his father for his da's drinking problem when he was about 15. His Huntington was very different from my Huntington. We spent the better part of two hours going back and forth with emails, and it felt sooooo good to talk to an old friend, who is still the same, but different. And I mean it when I say I thank God he survived his darkest times. The would would be a less fun place without Chris Campion. I truly believe that.

So go buy it on my recommendation. It might make you cry. It will make you laugh, and you'll say "there is NO way that happened." If you know anyone who is or was an addict, you'll totally get the story, the events, the reality of it all. If you're in a band, you'll totally understand Chris and his dreams. And if you come from a family of "livers with feet" you'll REALLY get it. And if none of the above... hell, just go buy the damn book. Thanks.

I can help it, Chris and his band The Knockout Drops will hopefully come to Boston and do their off-Broadway show (which came before the book, and the book is based upon the show...) up here. We need the Drops!

Anyway -- I will have the laptop with me on this trip (again, never ending thanks to you Linda and Ronniw! and that misspelling is intentional, don't worry!) I will try and blog something. Maybe. I know I'll have pictures. And I wonder if the same cookie monster blue seat covers will be on the chairs at the graveside service. Hmmmm.

More later, vicious freaks.