And apparently it’s true. First Sarah’s Rick, then my Amy, and now my friend and former colleague Dennis Murphy is finally succumbing to colon cancer. This man is 57 years old, has a wife, Terry who is a friend and fellow knitter, and three lovely grown kids. He is a Circuit Court Judge, one of the best in the business, never one to take himself or his position too seriously; a fair and honest man. He loved riding his motorcycle, because in his helmet he could be incognito in our little town of Gaylord.

Again, he must have known his time here would be short. He was a daredevil on that bike. He loved speed, standing up on his bike pegs while flying down the road. And he loved our Meg. He loved to call her ‘punkin.’ “How’s punkin’?” he would ask. This was when she was a teenager and I would regale him with frustrated tales of her latest antics. He thought it was great, her spunkiness, her ‘moxy,’ just her.

He and Terry are perfect together. I remember once they came to our Irish party, and when I met them at the door, they had on the goofiest hand-made ‘hats.’ I said to her later, “I can’t believe you got him to wear that thing.” Her quiet response, with a sideways grin, was, “He’ll do anything I tell him to.” I laughed then and it makes me laugh now.

So another good and joyful person joins the heavens leaving us here on earth wondering, again: Why?

Amy Rauch Nielson

• Getting to know you when you were only in your mid-to-late 20’s, even though I certainly knew you before that through our parents’ friendship.
• Your generosity in sending mom and dad to Florida – until Sean finally kicked us in the butts and said, ‘Hey, why is Amy sending them when we can all jointly send them?”
• Your higher score on the ACTs. You know what I mean.
• Spending time in Florida with you, mom and dad, watching you exercise, laughing when you’d pinch dad’s butt, the wonderful meals you’d prepare, your non-stop chatter and energy!
• At Sean and Cathy’s when you came around the pool carrying one of the infant twins and you saying, “I could do this, couldn’t I?” (You always would question your mothering ability, and I would always tell you you’d make a wonderful mother. I was right.)
• Hibernian parties. New Year’s Eve parties. St. Patty’s Day parties. You always dressed for the occasion, no matter what!
• Sparky Airport Transport. Driving around and around the terminal because we’re talkingtalkingtalking and you missed the stop. And no matter what time of day or night, you were always willing to make the drive, sometimes still in your flannel onesie pj’s!
• Burning Kev’s French toast. Talkingtalkingtalking. LOL!
• Your eternal optimism. (Are you sure you’re not Irish?)
• Those damned dogs racing down your stairs to attack me!
• John Edward! (What will your sign be? I’ll watch for it!)
• “One groovy chick.” And you are!!!
• Allowing me to shave your head.
• Elephant-fest!
• Your precious relationship with my parents.
• Our talks. I loved our talks. For someone with your IQ, it always amazed me how you would constantly question your abilities or second-guess yourself.
• Your undying support of me in whatever my choices were.
• Your unconditional love.
• Your bravery in the face of so many difficulties! Losing one parent then another. That first ‘marriage.’ Learning who your real friends are. Finances. Health.
• Your tremendous devotion to Theo and to Don.
• Your quick wit and raucous laughter!

Had a great visit with Thom’s sister and brother-in-law, Sharon and Bob, last week. That’s the good news.  The bad news is that Thom had put his back out the Saturday before they arrived when we took Sadie for a walk while we were on bikes. He was holding her leash and balancing his bike at the same time; apparently not a good thing for someone with a bad back. It’s now a week and a half later, and it’s still not good. We’re all trying to convince him to try a chiropractor. He must be in bad shape, because I think he’s actually considering it. Here’s hoping.

Boy, did I have the return trip from hell Monday trying to get back home to Florida from Michigan.  What started out quite pleasant — an early-afternoon flight out of Traverse City to Detroit — turned into a four-legged yo-yo experience like nothing I’ve had in awhile. And even though I do love to fly — I really do — three more legs and three different planes later PLUS an hour-long delay out of Charlotte was about enough to do me in.

The most interesting stop by far, though, was my second leg from Detroit to Huntington, West Virginia. I mean, I know there’s not a lot of big towns on that side of the state, but this little ‘terminal,’ if I might call it that, was out of one of those sitcoms about the south. Remember WINGS?  I’d been a little concerned about making my connections at each of my stops since I wasn’t familiar with the terminals and didn’t know how far I’d have to run to get to the next gate. I needn’t  have worried. Arriving in Huntington, we deplaned onto the tarmac and walked into the terminal. I looked around for a gate monitor. When I finally got my bearings I realized I was already standing at the gates. All three of them. When I walked forward a little way, I saw that if I went TOO far, I’d be exiting the airport and would have to go through security again, which I could see right in front of me. I found vending machines and a bathroom, then settled in for the hour-long wait for my next flight. My turbo-propped airplane came screaming up to the gate, and that’s when I realized, without a doubt, that this was a reeeeeeally little airport. Soon all nine of us boarded this airplane and took off for Charlotte, North Carolina.

I like Charlotte’s airport. In the center of it there’s a bunch of nice shops and white porch rockers for your convenience, if you’re lucky enough to find one open, which I never am.  But it’s a nice-sized terminal, nothing too far away — not like Detroit where you have to travel by foot under the runways to get from one terminal to the next. Aside from having our gate moved and our flight delayed over an hour, it was a pretty uneventful flight to Daytona Beach and home.

I’m staying put for awhile.

Wow. It’s 6:00 o’clock, and we’re up. And even though it’s still dark out there, there’s one bird that’s as noisy as anything I’ve heard. Wish I could find out what it is just by the sound! “Choo, choo, choo…choo, choo, choo, choo, choo!”  I don’t hear anyone answering him back; maybe that’s why he keeps it up for so long. Yesterday I even had to close the slider after I’d opened it up. That’s how loud he is!!!

I’m not complaining. I’d much rather here that than traffic, construction, or much of anything else. But I’d also really like to know what it is.