Good bye pop 4/19/32 - 10/19/2008

                    How strangely beautiful is this phenomena we call life?

On Friday evening I was at a professional lecture on happiness. The presenters main premise was that happiness can be obtained by living in the present reality.  In order to  be fully present in the realities of life one must be able to confront and master stressors.  Along with the mastery of stressors one needs to be comfortable  with ambivalence.

Comfortable with ambivalence?   Isn’t that an oxymoron- comfortably ambivalent? But then upon further inspection I thought, well ok that makes sense. Ambivalence is being in the unknown, its a state of uncertainty.  As the evening was coming to a close and I was walking to my car I contemplated my present state, that is my present reality.  Once I was safely in my vehicle I sat there looking out the window, and into the cold darkness of night and I discovered I am happy.  I have reached  a state of happiness and I can truly say  that.  Despite all my stressors, those of the past, and those that are pending.  Ambivalence?  Yeah I’m ok with ambivalence. I sat there patting myself on the back for honestly being able to proclaim I got happiness.  Like any good parent, I checked my cell phone, before I put the key in the ignition. Sure enough there was a voice mail.   Still smiling and proud of myself I listened to my voice mail to hear my husband inform me that my mom had called and my father was being sent to the ER, something’s not right, he isn’t doing well, said the message.  Instantly I sat there frozen,  thinking, wondering, “is this it”. Next thing I knew tears were running down my cheeks and I thought how could this be not even one minute elapsed between my gleeful smile of achieving happiness and now I’m crying? What is this?  Happiness doesn’t disappear just like that?  No it doesn’t. But what did happen as I continued my self assessment, was that I had happened upon an encounter of  ambivalence.  Ah yes, that’s it.  I then asked myself can I be comfortable with this  newfound ambivalence? Can I find a sense of comfort?  It is then that I realized my answer didn’t matter.  The ambivalence that surrounds our living experience, is our present reality, that’s the stuff life is made of.  And its often strange and also beautiful. I  hope you can agree with me that life can be strange but I do know that you all believe along with me, that life is beautiful because that is why you have chosen to gather here today to help my family celebrate the loss of another beautiful soul.  That beautiful soul was housed inside of a proud man.  But more then a proud man, and your friend,  that man was a husband, a father, and a grandfather.

          My dad, Raimund no middle name Froschl was born in Austria in 1932.  he was the youngest having 2 sisters who were several years older then he. He spent his childhood living thru WW2 and its aftermath. As if that wasn’t unfortunate enough, his mother died from cancer when he was only 12 years old.  His sisters had already left the home and so it was just he and his pop. He enjoyed cooking and baking and I’m sure he kept himself and his pop well fed. In his early 20’s he joined the police service in Salzburg. He enjoyed being a police officer but he wanted to come to America. He then immigrated to Australia. While in Australia he took employment with the railway. This is where he learned English. Eventually he then made his way to Hawaii.  While in HI he was working as a cook, and  happy to  earn  money for cooking! One of his lifelong passions.  He had applied for a VISA to the states and while waiting for its approval he was drafted into the Army. This provided his entry into the United States.  He served two terms in the Army during the Cuban Crisis.  While in the army he learned to drive as well as increase his use of the English language by learning many new “choice” words. (according to my mom).  It was during this time he met my mother.  They met in SF._____ and were married the day after Christmas in 1960.

Shortly after they became husband and wife the Army sent him to Germany for a few months.   While in Germany he served as a private guide and interpreter for some visiting Austrian military Officers. This provided him with a great source of pride. From Germany he returned back into the US and was then stationed in Tacoma Washington. My mom reunited with him at that time. While in Tacoma my parents experienced a massive hurricane. While my dad was on base as an MP my mom was home all alone and frightened to death. My dad left the base without anyone knowing to check on my mom. She was petrified and afraid to open the door when she heard someone coming, it was her loving husband coming to her rescue.  No one ever knew that he broke the rules to come and save her. But breaking rules was like a second nature to him. When his service was complete from Tacoma they returned to SF and for  a short period of time  they lived with my moms parents. They quickly found a flat and moved around the corner from moms parents, shortly after my dad began working with the National Guard at the presidio. He worked there for several years before eventually gaining employment at San Quentin. Where he would remain until his retirement nearly 30 years later.   In 1964 his first daughter, Kristine was born.  Then, 6 joyful years later in 1970 came me!  At this point after many scares my mom experienced living in the height Ashbury during the “loud” hippy days as she referred to them, she convinced my dad to leave the area. And this is when they relocated to Petaluma, buying a brand new house for $25000.00. The happiness during this time period was also overridden, by  his involvement in the San Quentin prison break, in 1971, which was the work of what’s commonly  referred to as the San Quentin six. During this incident my dad began the shift following the mayhem, to find a good friend and relative killed.  Its hard to say when my dad became a workaholic, mom said it developed over time.  He worked hard, long hours, many days without a day off. When he wasn’t working he enjoyed being in the kitchen where he was a wizard and could make a gourmet dish out of leftovers. He also liked to tend to his vegetable garden and fruit trees. My dad was a perfectionist. He was a rigid perfectionist. He was also a bit obsessive and compulsive which led to his perfectionism.  When he did something it had to be perfect. He was also very well organized with everything having its own place. He had little quirks like knowing if the center piece on the table was out of place or if his table setting had been moved just a hair he could tell and he would reorganize the whole setting back to its proper place. His cars were always well maintained and immaculate inside, looking like they were brand new 6 years later! He liked the best of things too.  He must’ve been like a salesmen’s  dream customer because the more bells and whistles on something the more he wanted it, no matter what the price tag. I remember when he brought home our first VCR when they were in their infancy—it was so BIG, this was followed by a microwave oven or maybe it was the other way around. It is hard for me to imagine that we all didn’t always have these essentials in the kitchen.   He treated himself a lot. He enjoyed traveling. He would return home to Europe almost every year for anywhere from 3 weeks to 2 months at a time.  He also liked to go for quick getaways such as to Mexico, or Seattle or HI, he also cherished a return trip to Australia. He loved watching TV and war movies!  Especially game shows like the price is right and wheel of fortune! He also enjoyed the internet being able to read newspapers from his homeland and listening to public radio.  He even mastered banking on line! And made most of travel arrangements on the computer!  Not bad for an old school man! In 1986 he was greatly disappointed to hear the news of his impending grandchild. However, when the angel now called Angela was born in 1987 she was like a breath of fresh air for him. His eyes lit up when he held her and he fell in tremendous love all over again! I remember when she was a newborn and she would wake in the middle of the night and pop would come home  from work he would be so surprised and happy to see her so he could just hold her in his arms. Later he would be able to enjoy the remainder of his grandchildren, Brianna, Jacob and Karma.  He also enjoyed his role as a father in law and liked to talk to Francis his son in law, sharing some of his life stories with him. And always offering him a cold beer!  Pop would smile at the sight of his grandchildren but near the end he asked me to leave karma home!  Asking does she ever stop moving.  He also would ask me how was I doing and how was my family doing.  He was a good provider, a loyal man.  Even after I was out and on my own, actually up to our last conversations, he was worried and felt the need to ensure somebody was taking care of me.

I typically would, and routinely do describe my dad as an angry lonely man. But I could be wrong. After all that’s just my view. As I gathered a lifetime collection of pictures (my lifetime that is), I saw many smiles and genuinely joyous occasions my dad had experienced. Smiles radiating happiness where I can honestly say he was happy, or in a state of happiness.  However I do know that he was angry when his body was no longer cooperating with his intention, but he never gave up his will. First he lost his driving privilege. This was a hard loss for a man of such pride and independence. But fortunately he had mom to chauffeur him around!    A simple act such as standing up or crossing the street became a threat to his safety. The loss of his independence and freedom angered him deeply. It was with much difficulty and struggle for my mom and sister,  After numerous falls, injuries, and 911 calls, that the decision was made, that for everyone’s safety he be moved into a skilled nursing facility. For the last 10 months of his life  I know he wasn’t lonely because he had my mom and my sister. Especially my mom who spent hours with him almost every single day. She was the loyal, faithful wife who had continually hoped for some type of recovery for him, some miracle. 

But despite the love of my mom, sister and myself pop struggled. And I think daily. And it is now, at this time, where he is no longer struggling, his physical reality eludes us, it has escaped into a finite space of spiritual freedom. As his spirit remains  strong among us, he is  FREE AT LAST—free from all of  life’s strange ambivalence and he remains but a beautiful memory.

On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow.
Friedrich Nietzsche

From P town to Bean town...

One day I was folding laundry while the Celtics game was on tv. My son was watching the game and he would cheer for whichever team was in the lead. He asked me which team did I want to win and I said the Celtics. Then  he asked me why, and as I thought of an answer for him I realized I really didn't know.  I said, "I like Boston, always have."-as I stared at the game, and continued folding laundry I realized I had always liked Boston.  Somehow the thought about moving to Boston entered my mind. As I thought deeper I thought why not? why not move to Boston? What is stopping me? What is keeping me here?

Deciding to  voluntarily move is a very interesting process, or it was for me anyway. I didn't much know what I was moving to. I did know why I was moving and what I was moving from.   As the days wore on, and the reasons to move intensified there was little doubt that moving away  was what was in the best interest of myself and my children. Well, most of my children.

A move from Northern California to the East Coast is a pretty big one.  There was a slight glitch in my plan to move to Boston and I had to renegotiate my options with myself.  Boston, Chicago, San Diego, they made the short list.  A move from Nor Cal to So Cal seemed more manageable.  I fell in love with San Diego the very  first time I ever went. I remember telling my friend as we left the airport, I was in awe at the beauty of the harbor, and I said-- I could see myself living here. (that was over 17 years ago).

Once the decision to move was made, and the location of my move was decided upon the planning process wasn't too difficult.  What was difficult, and I assume will always be difficult is the grieving process.  Even though I was moving away from  defeat, complacency and oppression  and moving towards  higher hopes, expectations and liberation, the change involved a grief producing loss.  In the beginning the feelings even included doubt. Perhaps I made a mistake?  ---  Doubt can eventually lead to regret if  you  doubt yourself more than you trust yourself.  I trusted in myself that I was doing the right thing and for the right reasons.  I have no regrets moving to San Diego.

The success I have found in San Diego is most apparent with the education of my children.   I chose the  location of our  residence based on  two factors. The coastline and the school district.  At this time we are living with the best of both! --who could possibly want more? - well, apparently I can, because I have made the decision to move on. To move on to Boston (or somewhere Bostonish).  Since tentatively  making the decision (months ago), several waves of doubt have drifted in and out. I love this coastline, and the surf can't be beat.  I don't think I can live anywhere too far from the beauty of the ocean. I think of our move to the east coast and all the opportunity it will allow for. Theres nothing stopping me. What is keeping us here? -- The coastline and the school district!  Two of my children will be making big transitions with the  school year ahead, and my last child happens to be my most resilient one so since it seems there's a  natural break thats probably the best time to make such a big move.  Even though  the education plan for my youngest is very  promising and certainly makes the decision to move not an easy one, we will be moving summer 2015.
 Self-doubt probably can never be fully alleviated but trust in oneself can certainly be strengthened.  From Northern California to Southern California the move was not so bad, heres to hoping the move from the West Coast to the East Coast will be even better!