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Virginia Tech: That I May Serve

Posted by 17 Apr 2010

The entire family is piled into the boy’s bed tonight and we’re doing our nightly ritual where we each say the worst and best thing that happened that day, and what we’re looking forward to tomorrow. It’s a nice way to wrap up the day, for the kids to express what is on their minds, and for us to prepare ourselves for the coming day.

As we lay there tonight, my mind wandered to the thirty-two fellow Hokies who were killed three years ago. Some of them would be getting ready to graduate, looking for jobs. Some would be settling into careers, and Dr. Librescu might be pondering retirement. Maybe.

And maybe, I thought, some of them would have had kids. And they might have been tucking in their own sweet little angles tonight, too.

That’s when my minds eye could see the fantastically complex branches of lives and families and generations spanning out into infinity. And here are these thirty two branches that might have been. They turn dark and disappear in smoke, cut short by the bullets of insanity.

For the young ones, the ones that weren’t already married and into their family lives, those branches will never happen. I think about their soul mates never getting to meet them, never falling in love with them and having the families they should have had. So, it isn’t just the horror of the act that day. It reverberates through time, through generations, in what might have been.

And now that my own sweet angels are sleeping, I sit in the dark thinking of Dr. Librescu. Of the reports that the 76-year-old Romanian held the classroom door shut so his students would have time to get out through the windows. I think about the students who did make it out of Norris Hall that day, that their branches didn’t evaporate that day, thanks to a man who survived the Holocaust, taught for many years at Tech, and met his end while teaching.

Ut Prosim.

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‘slightly less compelling than a snuggie commerical’

Posted by 11 Feb 2009

did you know that if you have comcast internet you can download mcafee free through their site?

we had a fantastic thunderstorm here tonight.  pretty amazing, especially for february.  it was warm out and i left the back door open – it felt like summer.  wouldn’t mind a little summer right about now.

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How’s the weather in California?

Posted by 16 Dec 2008

Two quick things I love about Virginia weather:

1) Consistency. Yesterday, December 15th mind you, it was sixty five degrees and sunny. This morning when I wake up? Thirty seven and raining. The latter of course being the normal winter weather for Va., raining and just warm enough not to snow.

2) The sense of excitement. The mere mention of flurries in this city sends people flocking to the grocery stores, all desperate to get their hands on every loaf of bread and gallon of milk within city limits. I have lived here for thirty three years and I’ve never been snowed in for longer than two days at the absolute most, and that was mainly just because we didn’t have anywhere to go. Yet every year people attack the bread aisle as if this might be the last chance they’ll get before spring thaw. How many sandwiches can one family make in forty eight hours?

Anyway, I need to move somewhere with a chance at a white Christmas.

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don quesenberry, my most excellent uncle

Posted by 15 Dec 2008

Friday night, my Uncle Don passed away. Though he had been in not great health the last several years, it was completely unexpected.

I was trying to think of the right word on Saturday to describe him. I’m going to go with epic.

He was married to my mother’s sister and they ran the dairy farm where my mother grew up. The cows were sold maybe 10 years ago, but Don continued to grow crops and tend to the horses. He was a very quiet man, but polite, respectful and had a small smile that almost bordered a smirk had it been by anyone else. I think of him as top class.

And he was a cowboy. Which, even at my age now, is super badass. The man drove around in a Jeep with no doors, boots and hat and always with his dog.

I’m going to miss the man a lot. He certainly had an influence on me; we would visit the farm for a week every summer growing up. Yeah, in a lot of ways, epic is exactly the right word.

(I didn’t get a chance to nab the photos I wanted to post with this. I’ll add them tonight.)

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The obit follows:

Don Grey Quesenberry, 76, left us suddenly at his residence on Friday, Dec. 12, 2008.

He was a devoted husband and companion to his loving wife of 48 years, Laura Hurt Quesenberry.

His passions in life were his wife, his children, coaching, teaching and farming. Don grew up on a beef and dairy farm in Carroll County with his parents, Dewey and Pearl (Shockley) Quesenberry of Hillsville, Va. His life in Carroll County as a child transferred to love of Laura and her parents’ farm, Iris Hill on Halls Bottom Road, in Bristol Virginia. Together Don and Laura owned and managed this farm from 1968 to 1996. The dairy herd numbered 200-plus registered Holsteins. With his master’s in guidance, Laura frequently commented that they had “the best guided cows in the country!”

Upon graduation from Hillsville High School, Don attended Virginia Tech. He served in the U.S. Navy during the Korean War from 1952 to 1956. He graduated from Emory & Henry College in 1960 and received a Master’s in Education from ETSU in 1969. His civic involvement included positions as past chairman of the Holston River Soil and Water Conservation District, state director of Virginia Soil and Water Conservation, board of directors Select Sires, board of directors and past president of the Bristol Crisis Center and member of Walnut Grove Presbyterian Church. He was very active at Pleasant View United Methodist Church.

He is survived by his wife, Laura Hurt Quesenberry; two children, Cindy (John) Pittman, Kilmarnock, Va., and Sara (David) Arseneau, Goshen, Ohio; and two grandchildren, Ben (Melanie) Pittman, Rocky Mount, Va., and Taylor Arseneau, Goshen.

Friends will be received at the residence. Graveside services will be held Monday, Dec. 15, 2008, at Glenwood Cemetery.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Pleasant View United Methodist Church. Condolences and memories may be shared with the family by visiting www.BlevinsCares.com.

Blevins Funeral and Cremation Services, 417 Lee St., Bristol, Va., is serving the family of Mr. Quesenberry.

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Life: Return of the Vomit Fairy

Posted by 10 Jan 2008

You might be a parent if, when dripping with chunky vomit that is not your own, it isn’t even your primary concern.

Or, I suppose, you might just be really drunk.

Yep, we got a visit from the Vomit Fairy again. I really hate that guy. Rebekah’s been going all Linda Blair everywhere. I must say that I’m really impressed with the spread she manages to get out of what must logically—if not by appearance—be only a couple of ounces. Poor little thing just looks so stunned when it happens.

Cough. Urp. BLEAAARRRRRGGHHH!!!SplOOOOshh…

That’s been my last 24 hours or so. But it does remind me of a funny travel story. And by funny, I mean horrible and nerve-wracking, but, hey, it happened a couple months ago so I can laugh about it now.

Or at least ride it for a journal entry.

So, back in November, we’re headed to Virginia for a week. Getting the kids into the car takes longer than expected (doesn’t it always? See, we even EXPECT that and STILL it takes longer) and we leave the house at 4:08 instead of 4. Relax, my wife tells me. We could have left at 4:30 and still been on time. My wife, knowing me, has lovingly lied to me about what time we needed to leave. I might have to admit that it is effective, even if duplicitous. Anyway, we’re making our way to the airport as rush hour is getting underway. Rebekah, having just woken up from a nap and it being close to dinner AND having not eaten much for lunch, is hungry. I’d grabbed the bananas on the way out the door because, face it, those suckers weren’t going to last the week. So, she eats one happily in the car seat and Reed has one. A little later, Amy starts in on one and Rebekah starts raising cane from the backseat. She saw Mommy having something and—hey—she didn’t have one! So, presuming she’s still hungry, we give her another banana. And she downs it. Like, we had to make sure she didn’t eat the peel.

We’re on the interstate exchange about ten minutes from the airport when I realize: Oh Shit. Yeah. That’s right. I capitalized it. It was that kind of Shit. We’d forgotten the car seat for the airplane.

Now, for those of you uninitiated in child air travel, ‘car’ seats are actually designed for land yachts. SUVs, minivans and such. Frankly, they’re motherfuckin’ big-ass things. I had to search to find one that would fit behind the driver’s seat rear-facing in our car, a family-sized sedan. Needless to say, these things simply will not fit in an airline seat. So, we’ve got this spare travel seat that is really minimal and fits in the airplane seats. We’d done 30+ flights with this thing without a problem.

Only, now, our problem was that it was still at home.

Shit. (See, still capitalized.)

So, I take the interstate exchange in the other direction back to our house. I am hauling. We do some mental calculations and can just make it back in time to get checked-in at the airport. I take the back, curvy way to our house, skid into the driveway, snag the seat, repack the trunk (shoving a bag on my wife’s lap so everything would fit), hop back in and peel out for the airport.

We’re slinging through the turns (here, my wife refers to me as ‘Mario Andretti’) when a curious sound comes from the seat behind me. I glance up into the baby mirror to catch the first discharge of digesting bananas roll out of her mouth, down her front and into the seat cracks like so much fruit-n-bile lava. Seriously, she only ate two bananas, but it was more like ten that came out. In hindsight, that exchange rate is really good and I might consider feeding her hundred dollar bills next time.

At this point, I pined for the knowledge and skill to pull one of those high-speed, 180 degree turns. We went straight back to the house and dived out of the car. I handed Rebekah to Amy, who sprinted inside, stripped her, hosed her down and re-dressed her. Meanwhile, I began feebly trying to FIND the car seat under that mountain of puked produce while simultaneously trying not to vomit myself. I gave it up as a bad job, yanked the entire car seat out, set it in the garage (“That’ll be nice after a week!” I thought aloud), fished out the travel car seat and snapped it in just as Amy was coming out with the clean-if-still-a-bit-damp daughter.

All the while, I’m pretty sure we’re boned regarding our flight. Which is, pretty much, the only flight that will get us to Virginia in time for my Dad’s wedding. Didn’t I mention that part? Yeah. He kind of postponed it from it’s original date especially so we could be there.

As I navigate the traffic, Amy prepares me that we, in fact, might not make our flight. Fortunately, I’m outdriving the feeling of screwed-ness for the moment at least. We, being the engineering types, strategize our attack for arriving at the airport. There’s no way we can all go to long term parking, get out shit on the bus, then get to the terminal, check our bags and make the flight. We decided to go directly to the terminal, drop off everything and I’ll take all the bags and the two kids in, drop off the bags and make my way to the gate/plane while Amy parks the car and hopefully gets to the gate in time, unencumbered by any bags at all and aided by all kinds of uber-traveler first class status.

Though, in retrospect I’m thinking she was secretly hoping to get to fly solo.

Anyhoo, even though it’s about 40 minutes before departure, I’m able to check my bags curbside, whisk the kids through security (and, seriously, my 18-month-old is not a terrorist; why must I take off her shoes? All the dangerous stuff is in the diaper, anyway.), meet Amy and make it to the gate just as they begin boarding.

Oh. And Reed? He slept through the entire ordeal.
 

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‘jamscraper’

Posted by 2 Jan 2008

I have arrived back. Back to the west coast, back to home, back to work. Back to my scheduled life.

The holidays were, for the most part, grand. This year I asked for adult gifts mostly and I got adult gifts exclusively. New sheets, new towels, new dinnerware, new backpack. Also, a new haircut, one I only kind of asked for — when I told the woman that I wanted a trim “just above my eyebrows,” it turned out that she didn’t know what or where eyebrows are. My hair is very short now.

There was a span of days where I spent over 4 hours a day in an airplane/car — flying home on the 23rd, stuck in a car to Bristol, Va for 5 hours on the 24th, back to Richmond (4.5 hours this time — I was driving) on the 25th, a hellish 6.5 hours in the car to get up to Alexandria and back on the 26th.

And then there was the stress of navigating our way home on the 30th. Our itinerary was switched before we left in Richmond and we found ourselves almost stranded in Dallas. Of course, Eric and Lisa were going to take us in and we were going to spend NYE with them. But then we somehow got boarded on our plane. And, of course, Eric called, telling us not to bother boarding and just come spend NYE with them literally less than 4 minutes after we got onto the plane. It was not to be.

But I am home now, almost rested and feeling grand. It’s a strange feeling and one I am not used to. I feel ready to take on the world. Unfortunately, this is not what I will be doing. But what I will be doing is continuing to produce media and put things out. My book of drawings should be out on the 14th. I’m getting back into the writing, the animation and video.

My goal for ’07 was to get my environment, my life, my details organized — everything from money to doctors to boxes in my closet. It wasn’t glamorous or fun really, but I got about 85% of it done. The rest will come with time. I’m unsure what this year’s goal is. I hope it will include a non-stop stream of creative projects and works.

Regardless, I can’t explain the large spring in my step. But I am going to make the most of it and make every day count. There are only 363.5 left. As John has become fond of saying:

what the fuck have you done?

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christmas as an adult

Posted by 21 Dec 2007

Christmas is upon us. I’ll be on the east coast soon, celebrating with family.

But this year things are hectic, family has become more critical than ever — the focus of the trip is not the presents or decorations or rituals. This year it is seeing and spending time with family.

It is easy to say that this is always the focus; the difference this year is that it is the only item on the table. My parents are stressed and busy; I’m unclear if there is even a tree. I suppose there might not be. And that’s ok with me. But all of this coupled with the weird feeling that the holiday snuck up on me this year and I wonder if I’ve just grown up a bit more, if I am a bit more worn from my day-to-day schedule to be able to enjoy the countdown to presents and vacation.

I don’t mind, but I’m not used to celebrating the season this way. I’m not clear on how to revel in it when I am so entrenched in work and life, when I can’t seem to make time slow down the way I could ten or twenty years ago, when Christmas presents sat out for a week or more, when anticipation drove me insane, when I spent all my free time shaking and feeling and sorting every present, delighted at the puzzle.

This year will be something different for my entire family. I’m very much looking forward to it — ultimately, it will be the best of all worlds. But it’s odd when the yearly routine disappears.

And because I can announce it, I have gotten my first present this year. From my manager, I am the proud owner of the 8bit tie now.

8bit tie!

And that is not me modeling it. But you get the idea.

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