Saturday, November 1, 2008

Where do we begin...


I guess the best place to begin is at the beginning. This blog is much longer than normal (normal? what an odd concept at this point...) and probably more than you want to read, but we have so much to remember and this is our way of recollecting this truly remarkable week. 

It began on October 22, my mother's birthday. We pay attention to everyday things. Connie, especially, sees the interconnectedness of things. So when a giant dragonfly showed up on the screen inside the beautiful, new front porch that Dan and Brenda have built onto their Saint Simons home, she got excited. The screen door was closed so how did it get inside? She got very excited. I have learned not to dismiss her intuitions so I didn't say, "It's just a bug..."


After the "dragonfly photo shoot" and releasing it back to the outside, I walked into the computer and noticed an email from someone at Harpo.com. Spam, I thought, but the writer wrote that she was a producer with the Oprah Show and wanted to speak with us. Before I deleted it I showed it to Connie. "What the heck is Harpo. It's gotta be a joke." Connie knew immediately that Harpo is Oprah spelled backwards and is the name of her production company. The next day, October 23, was my birthday. 

We were just walking in circles waiting for the phone to ring, anxious and wondering what this was all about. We thought it might be about a story I wrote for the Broken Open book but it had been 4 years since that had been published. We thought it might be the blog and our exciting new life, on the road and untethered. I thought they wanted to sell us a subscription to "O Magazine". When the call came we talked for an hour and a half about Broken Open. 

Oprah had found Elizabeth Lesser's book and they were working on the show. We were just one of 30 stories they were exploring to include in the show. They called back and spoke with Connie for another hour. We were exhausted. 

The next day, October 24th, was the birthday of little cousin Kilie who stayed on this earth for such a short time. She was the daughter of my cousin Stephanie and her husband Eric and the sister of little 5 year old Nathan who live in Chicago and where we stayed for a night after the show was taped. We felt very priviledged to have an opportunity to talk with Stephanie about everything that had happened in her life over the past year. She is such a wonderful mother to Nathan. 

The producers called and asked if they could send a production crew to Saint Simons on Sunday to shoot some footage. Our minds were now truly whirling. Dan and Brenda gave us permission to do the videoing in their home (Thanks guys... for everything) and we accepted the offer. We spent Saturday raking the yard, deciding what to wear, buying a new shirt, talking about what we were willing to talk about... and where we would not go. We changed our minds at least 10 times. back and forth, and finally sat down and talked it through. We decided that we would accept this opportunity in order to achieve two goals. 

The first was to honor Eric's life, something we do daily, but this was so unique and on such a larger scale. The second was to grasp it as an opportunity to help others who were broken by Life's events. We decided that if we could help even one family who were "in the fire" then we should do it as well as we could. We wanted people to know than you have to take it one day at a time, to be gentle with yourself and to reach out for help that is available from such wondeful organizations as Hospice Volunteers. We had learned that being broken open was about living life differently, fearlessly and just trying to stay out of our own way as the Universe unfolds. It is all about choice. And so we decided to embrace this very fearful thing for us. 

We revisited this decision 100 times over the next 5 days. On Sunday, October 26th, Scott, the Producer from Chicago and a 3 man film crew from Jacksonville showed up at 7:50 AM. They videoed us for 10 hours; drinking coffee in the kitchen, sitting on the front porch, walking on the beach, driving around in the van and at a beautiful park under the Live Oaks dripping with Spanish Moss. Scott asked very personal questions and after the first shoot, we took Scott aside and explained very pointedly (as only a former paper mill worker can speak) that we were not going to be exploited or sensationalized. I leaned in close to him, looked straight into his eyes and said "Scott, We have agreed to do this, but this is our life. It is our story and we share it often in our Hospice work. But we will not be exploited. I know your name. And I know where you live. Do you understand?" He did. He gave us his guarantee that they would not publish anything that we could not accept. And we believed him. He's a fine young man. 

On Monday they called and asked us to come on the show. The rest of that day and Tuesday are a blur. We emailed our friends and family and asked for your wise counsel and prayers. Your encouagement and prayers have been such a blessing. There are no words to thank you. While all this was happening, they contacted Katie and Ryan. Kate has been working 12 hour days in her new job and was emotionally and physically spent. Wisely, she decided to forego the trip and the ordeal. She is wise beyond her years and we are so proud of her ability to set boundaries. Some wise dude once said "Know thyself." Ryan agreed to come to the show and speak from his unique perspective as Eric's identical twin brother. We are equally proud of his courage in being willing to engage. Both of our children have been incredibly supportive of this thing that we had decided to do. 

Mimi, our friend on the island, called and offered to take care of Sampson and Delilah. So much for Connie's excuse to stay behind and take care of the dogs... Thank you Mimi, Sue, who we look forward to meeting, and Jay who helped with the dog care after she flew in from Prague. Steve came over and brought some cold beers to help us process what we were going into. We sat by his fire and talked it all through. Thank you Steve... and also for your help with that damned garage door opener. Persistency and tenacity buddy... and when that doesn't work, read the instructions. Right?


On Wednesday, the Lincoln Town car showed up at 9:30. Sam and Lu ran out the front door and jumped into the drivers seat. We put them back in the house. Not this trip, puppies. The flight was smooth and we arrived in Chicago, met by Carey from the show, and were limo'ed to the Omni Hotel where we had a $100 lunch of crab cakes and club sandwiches. Wow, talk about being outside our comfort zone.


We spent the rest of the day waiting for Ryan to arrive. Connie's friend Jan and her daughter Laura drove down from Wisconsin. Scott shuttled back and forth with photos and video tapes. Ryan made it in and by the time we hit the pillow at 11:30, we were really rethinking the whole thing, wondering why we were here and if we should just grab a cab and make our escape. But we were just too tired to get out of bed.


October 30th, my father's birthday, 5:00 came early, but we had been laying awake fretting for a long time. Our prayer was " Hey Eric, help us through this one buddy. We don't know what we are doing here. We're just gonna flip on our backs and float. The current is too strong to fight." We met Ryan in the lobby and the stretch limo pulled up at 7:00 AM sharp. A young, nice looking chauffeur greeted us at the curb. Connie said, "Are you our driver?" He said "Yes ma'am, I am." . She smiled, extended her hand and said, " Hello, my name is Connie.". He said "Good morning. My name is Eric." She beamed, grabbed him with both hands and said "Well isn't that just PERFECT. So nice to meet you Eric."We drove through the darkness to the studio as the sun was dawning onto an incredible day.


We arrived at the same time as Elizabeth Lesser, our friend and the author of Broken Open, and enjoyed a curbside, heartfelt hug. Next, we were met on the sidewalk by 3 Producers. Scott, Leigh and Veronica. Impressive young people, so enthusiastic and professional. Leigh is Ryan's age and Veronica is 8 months pregnant. They walked us through security where we had to provide ID and give up our cameras and cell phones. Through the door and down the hall with pictures of Oprah with every celebrity you could ever imagine on the walls from floor to ceiling, from Tom Cruise to Tom Hanks, from Maya Angelou to John Travolta. Just a LITTLE intimidating...


They shepherded us into the "Green Room" that was appointed with comfortable chairs, a coffee service, danish, a meeting table, and separate rooms for hair and makeup. That's when things began to happen very quickly. They took Connie into makeup, wired me for sound and preped Ryan for questions and then we all rotated. I heard snippets of conversations. Ryan was telling Veronice "I'm a sax player so I'm comfortable being in front of crowds. But my dad hates this..." Connie was chatting with the makeup woman about airbrushing and hair products. A Latino woman in a mini skirt was doing my hair. "Don't cover up the grays. I earned those...". Finally we sat around the table and the producers briefed us as to what questions we might expect, always with the disclaimer that Oprah might take the conversation in any direction.


They left us alone for the next 10 minutes and I wore holes in the carpet pacing back and forth. Connie was nervous. Ryan was trying to calm us both down. Finally it was time. We walked down the hall and through the metal door into a long, high ceilinged corridor. People were standing on either side watching us walk like gladiators entering the Colloseum ( ... or was it like Christians to the Lions?). We walked through a control center and shook hands with the Director. (I couldn't identify him today in a line up if my life depended on it. ) We were like deer in the headlights. 

We passed through a final set of doors, down a long tunnel and onto the floor in the back of the studio, surrounded by 300 people. It was surreal. They told us to stand there for a bit and I scanned the audience anxiously looking for familiar faces. There was Jannie and Laura, smiling and waving, trying to give us courage from across the room. I looked back at Connie and she was frozen in place with an odd expression on her face. I grabbed her and we whispered back and forth to each other, telling each other to breath and reminding ourselves why we were there. They walked us down front and onto the lower stage and sat us on a couch.


One of the Producers was warming up the crowd, asking questions and preparing them for the show. Finally Elizabeth was seated and Oprah came into the studio. They seated her next to Elizabeth, about 8 feet from us, and a flurry of hair stylists, make-up artists, sound people and producers surrounded her. They took off her slippers and put on high heels with red soles. They staged her teleprompter and answered her questions. She was very much in control. A real professional. All the while, she was speaking with us, engaging with the audience... and grieving. Her cocker spaniel, Solomon, like one of her children, had very recently died. Loss comes in so many forms. 

I spied my cousin Stephanie in the audience. She smiled at me, pointed to her eyes with two fingers of her right hand and then made at fist. She was saying, " I'm here. I'm with you. Have couage." I thought the message was, "I'm watching you and I'm gonna kick your butt if you don't do good." Made me laugh and lighten up a bit. Finally the show started.


We learned that there are 8 segments to a show. Oprah and Elizabeth opened the show in segments 1 and 2. We were the only other guests. After segment 2 they moved us up onto the main stage and opened segment 3 with film from our interviews and pictures of our family. Oprah interviewed Connie and me during segments 3 and 4. Ryan joined us for segment 5 and they wrapped it up in segment 6 and 7. We are looking forward to seeing what we said because we frankly don't remember it all. We do remember being pleased with the honor given to Eric and speaking the words of hope and encouragement for others suffering loss. 

We are so proud of Ryan's words so eloquently describing our loss and for his words of gratitude for our support during those dark times. He talked about a pivotal moment for him when he had dropped out of school and was working shoveling bait... dead fish... for my cousin Craig and his wife Denny on the docks of Portland in their lobster business. He said he realized while standing up to his knees in smelly fish that he felt happy... and that if he could feel happiness there, he would be happy again. Later, when talking about our travels, Oprah asked if I planned to work again. I said " Yes... but probably not shoveling fish." Then again, it doesn't sound so bad. I've done alot worse jobs. 

After the last segment, we stayed and spoke with the audience for an hour answering questions and talking about loss and hope. The show ended quickly. Connie embraced Oprah and expressed her condolences for the loss of her pet and we were ushered back to the Green Room. The Producers were very pleased. They gave us gift bags with Oprah hats, tee shirts and coffee cups and shuttled us back into the stretch limo. Jannie, Laura and Stephanie joined us and we went back to the hotel for lunch. That Bloody Mary never tasted so good. 

We said good bye to Jannie and Lauren and the limo took us to Stephanie's beautiful apartment on the 15 floor of a building on North Shore Drive overlooking Lake Michigan and the city. We played Star Wars action figures with Nathan and Ryan took a nap before his flight back to Maine at 6:00. That night we ate ribs with Eric and Steph, enjoyed a nice bottle of wine and hit the sack at 8:30, entirely spent.


I have already blogged about the call that came from Ryan at midnight. I repeat it here as part of the entire amazing story.


As I wrote, we had only two heartfelt goals in agreeing to participate with this program. One was to honor Eric and we think the show does it well. The other was to help people who might be in "griefs fire" even if it was only one family.

Ryan awoke us with his call at around midnight. He had a story he had to tell us. On the flight back to Maine he zoned out until shortly before they landed in Portland and then chatted with his seat mate. 'Where are you from', 'Where do you work', 'What do you do'... we have all had these conversations 100 times. And the last question 'Why were you in Chicago?'. Ryan told the story. The man began to weep. His 19 year old son had been killed in a fire in February 2008. Ryan offered our family. We will be speaking soon.

Guess we got everything we had hoped for. The Universe doesn't drag it's feet...

Connie and I got up just in time for sunrise over the lake. Amazing. As was the french toast breakfast and our walk through Linclon Park and the Zoo that afternoon before our limo showed up at 4:30. 

I will blog about some of the events of the flight back later. This blog has gone on much too long... but there is truly no other way to tell the whole remarkable story. 

We arrived back on the island at midnight, picked up the puppies (Mimi had tears in her eyes and wanted to keep them.. such a good girl...). By 2:00AM we were stumbling over each other, but unable to stop our minds. Sleep came mercifully and today has been spent talking with friends and family, watching the Georgia Florida football game and writing this story.


And that is our story. We could never have imagined this in a million years. The show is scheduled to air on January 14. We'll let you know if things change. It has been a whirlwind and we will need some time to recover. In the mean time, stay tuned and pay attention. You truly never know what's coming down the road. What a life...


OH LOOK!! A BUTTERFLY!!! Love to all. Glen & Connie

Friday, October 31, 2008

Chicago

We taped the show yesterday. Quite an experience. We will post it after we get back to Georgia and collect our thoughts... as if there is any chance of that! Thanks so much for all the positive affirmations. You got us through it. One more thing...

As we wrote, we had only two heartfelt goals in agreeing to participate with this program. One was to honor Eric and we think the show does it well (from what we can remember... it's all a blur). The other was to help people who might be in "griefs fire" even if it was only one family.

Ryan awoke us with his call at around midnight. He had a story he wanted to tell us. On the flight back to Maine he zoned out until shortly before they landed in Portland and then chatted with his seat mate. 'Where are you from', 'Where do you work', 'What do you do'... we have all had these conversations 100 times. And the last question 'Why were you in Chicago?'. Ryan told the story. The man began to weep. His 19 year old son had been killed in a fire in February 2008. Ryan offered our family. We will be speaking soon.

Guess we got everything we had hoped for. The Universe doesn't drag it's feet...

Monday, October 27, 2008

Something Incredible...

You never know what Life is going to offer. Here's the story...

In April 2000, Connie and I met a woman named Elizabeth Lesser at a seminar in New York City. It was shortly after we lost Eric and we were desperately searching for a path forward through the darkness. Her presentation provided us the language we needed to begin as well as a road map through what she called "The Landscape of Death". We stayed in touch and around 4 years ago she called to tell me about a book she was writing titled "Broken Open". She asked if we would consider her using our experiences in the book. She presented it as an opportunity to honor Eric's memory and in that light I wrote a story called "Before and After" which she included in the book. It was published by Random House. End of story... or so we thought until a few days ago.

Last week we were contacted by producers from the Oprah Winfrey Show. They are doing a show on the book and wanted to speak with us. On Sunday a 4 person production crew showed up in Saint Simon's Island and filmed us for 10 hours. Tonight we have been invited to fly to Chicago on Wednesday for a Thursday taping. The show will be broadcast some time in the first week of January, perhaps January 5th.

We have gone back and forth about this "opportunity". We are private people and do not want to be exploited or sensationalized as TV sometime does. Yet, this seems like an opportunity to not only honor Eric's life, but to perhaps help people who find themselves "in the fire" after the loss of a loved one. We have decided to take the risk and to share some of the tools that helped us survive and go forward as a family. It is somewhat daunting to say the least, but we will do our best. We feel like we have a responsibility to "pay forward" all the love and support provided by our family and friends. If this helps even one family who feels that the pain will never stop then it will be worth it.

We will keep you posted on the blog as things develop. Keep us in your prayers...

Glen & Connie

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Back on Saint Simons Island


Back on SSI and rested up from an 18 hour drive from Albany. We are home basing it at our good friends Dan and Brenda's home for awhile while we scope out the rental opportunities and the job market. A perfect situation.

Spent the evening with Mimi, Jay, Scott, Brenda and new friends Shelly, Joy and Paul eating oysters at The Crab Shack ($4 a dozen) and then over to Shelly's house for some great red wine.Good folks. Lots of fun. A memorable birthday...

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Georgia Bound


Wrapping up a wonderful summer and a glorious fall. The leaves this year have been breathtaking. First leg is to Bangor to pick up Tina for a trip to Albany NY for her birthday. On to Saint Simons Island on Saturday.

We will miss the serenity of Shorty Pines. It has been everything we could have hoped for to attend to some necessary details and to rest up for whatever comes next. Seeing family and friends has been a blessing. I will especially miss the wireless internet access... So when we get plugged back in, I'll attempt to keep the travel blog going.

Until then, wishing you all our best. Stay in touch.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Autumn Reflections

Pug

Steve drove in on his Harley and we spent the afternoon reminiscing about growing up as "pipeline kids". We spent a summer during college working underneath PPL Pier 1 with a needle gun and cans of red lead paint. Probably what dropped my IQ by 60 points... or maybe it was the beer. Whatever... He reminded me of the time we decided to address each others father as Frank and Tony (instead of Uncle Tony and Uncle Frank). Bad idea... He's a police officer in Auburn and field dresses around 280 pounds. Bet he doesn't get any lip from the bad guys. Sam n' Lu didn't take their eyes off him...

Some great fall weather on the lake...



Big Wave Dave




My buddy Dave showed up in Maine for opening day of duck season. His bagpipes worked well as the next morning there were 9 ducks in the cove. We had blue wing teal breasts off the grill along with a nice bottle of cab. Before he headed back to the blind on Merry Meeting Bay, he took a power nap. What a wild man...


Sunday, August 24, 2008

Right outside the bedroom window...

The days are getting shorter and the nights are cooler. Foliage has begun to turn to reds and ambers in the bogs. And the sunsets are spectacular.

A pair of Pileated Woodpeckers have decided to make sure we don't miss sunrise.

Click here to listen to their call..

Of course Sam n' Lu go on high alert.

Which way did they go??

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Return to Belgrade Lakes

I've been practicing walking on water. It's all about balance... isn't everything?


Actually the cottage is in the town of Rome. Our mailbox and the store are just across the lake in Belgrade Lakes (just behind me in the picture). We vacated for the past 3 weeks for other renters who return to Bob and Judy's little piece of heaven year after year. This year, it rained almost every day during the last week of July and the first two weeks of August... as it is today.
Our time away has been busy. Lots of meaning and purpose between being around for Connie's mom in Bangor, helping Ryan move and Katie resettle her apartment in Portland, staging our friend Rosie's camp (where we resided some during our exile) to put on the market in China, attending family gatherings in Standish and spending some fun time with good friends Bill and Jannie from Wisconsin and Mike and Karen in Waterville. The dogs are so confused that they don't want to get out of the van anymore.


It feels good being back here. Slept like babies with the sounds of rain on the roof and birds calling in the gray dawn.

My tongue in cheek response to questions of our recent whereabouts is "Well, we summered in Rome except that during the Olympics we spent 3 weeks in China..."

Gotta go bail the boats...

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

facials...

Kate, Elise and Lauren enjoying a blue clay facial sitting on Whale Rock. Summer time and the livin' is easy...

Saturday, July 12, 2008

The cousins...

Katie and Leslie are hanging out in California

Dan and Lauren are in Seaham with Dree and Mick.

Meghan is in Alaska.

Ryan and Kristen are in Virginia.

Kimmy is in China or Portland.

Nate and Brit are in Boston

Hope you're all having a good old time...

Friday, July 11, 2008

a short story...

I've been trying different features with the blog as you might have noticed. What follows is a short story about a fishing trip to Alaska with my buddies. Hope you enjoy it...

The TSESYU* Cafe

*An Alabaskan Indian word for “People of the Caribou Clan”; also the name of a little roadside café in Cantwell Alaska.

A true Alaskan story of fishing, friendship and food service...

The four, ‘fifty-something’ men shuffled into the Tsesyu Café (pronounced say-sue) during the lunch rush and took the only booth without seated customers or dirty dishes on the table. They were tanned, unshaven, and not recently showered having just returned from a fishing trip that had been 30 years in the making.





They thought their “Great Alaskan Adventure” was complete. The fishing, the company and the scenery had all been spectacular. Little did they suspect that the capstone of their adventure was about to unfold, not on a hike up an ice blue glacier or at the reel end of a fighting, 40 pound King Salmon, but in an unremarkable, roadside diner on the George Parks Highway.

The men had been Alpha Gamma Rho fraternity brothers at the University of Maine in the early 70’s and, despite the passage of time, it was obvious from the smiles on their faces and their easy laughter, they were glad to be together again.

They were family men, married to wonderful women, fathers to outstanding children, men who had dedicated the last 30 years of their lives to providing for their families and earning “success” in the business world. They were "Baby Boomers," following in their father's footsteps, though not quite sure why. And they had all come to a similar place in life, questioning the business world’s definition of success, catching fleeting glimpses of their purpose and of their own mortality; wiser, though battle scarred from their experiences.




Bob was a division sales and marketing executive for a high-profile IT company in Boston and had the distinction of having the youngest child of the four. His 12-year-old, only daughter was his greatest joy just as fatherhood was his greatest challenge-- as it was for them all. He listened intently when the others spoke of their fatherhood experiences soaking in their successes and their failures for future reference.

Allen was 18 months away from the conclusion of the sale of his Washington DC headquartered business. His reserves had been low at the beginning of the trip and miraculously had been renewed during the week in the wilderness. The day before he had shipped his 26-year-old daughter 60 pounds of frozen Pink Salmon fillets and the smile was still wide upon his face.





Gordie lived in Alaska, had moved there in the mid 70's and was the unofficial leader of the group. He had chosen to live in Fairbanks and build his accounting business while raising three sons and taking full advantage of the canoeing, hunting and fishing that Alaska so abundantly offered. He had impressed the others with his rafting skills in the class 4 white water and, of course, his ability to drive his old RV over the precarious mountain passes and twisting highways.

Glen lived in Maine and had fought the "corporate wars" in the paper industry. He had purposefully made a change several years earlier and talked excitedly about his new, more meaningful work. Like Gordie, he had twin sons and like Allen and Bob, he had a daughter, each the center of his world. And like the others, he was struck with the power and the ease with which they had come back together after all these years.

Something had been forged between them during their time together, along with 50 other young men, living in the college fraternity house. It was more than friendship and it was something they valued greatly-- but had somehow forgotten. There was no pretense, no competition, each man recognized and valued for themselves, not for their possessions or accomplishments.

The pit stop, just up the road from the Mt. Denali access road, at the Tsesyu Café in Cantwell had been a spur of the moment decision following an incredible week of wilderness adventure. They had “put in” at Paxson Lake to raft and canoe the Gulkana River for four days, catching countless Arctic Grayling, Rainbow Trout and even a few King Salmon, enjoying each other’s company and reveling in some of the most magnificent wilderness on God’s earth. The stretches of white water had challenged them, soaked their clothes but not their spirits, and reawakened in them that old excitement of living their lives closer to "the edge."





The port of Valdez on Prince William Sound was their next destination, driving the old ’84 Dodge RV down the Richardson Highway, through the mountain passes, stopping here and there to marvel at the waterfalls, the snow capped mountains, the majestic glaciers. The June weather was uncommonly clear. They rented a boat and explored the breathtaking Sound. The schools of Pink Salmon were running strong and they caught the awesome 10 pound fish until their shoulders were sore, drinking beer and laughing wildly like they used to back at school.


Now they were on their way back; back to Fairbanks to unload the gear; back to the airport to catch the red-eye home; back to family and work and the lives that they had chosen. None of them was quite ready to return, to leave what they had rediscovered, to end this adventure.

The smell of fish was strong on them as the sole waitress passed out menus. The black haired, dark eyed woman, though smiling, looked dazed, on the verge of panic, as she took food orders. They tried to order hot dogs, but she said she was out of buns, "would bread be ok?" The unattended coffeepot smelled burned and bubbled a thick, black sludge. Customers glanced nervously at the waitress, anxious to have their food served, their tables cleared, their orders taken. The men probed the situation in a good-natured way.

What was her name?

Clementine, but everyone called her Clem. She and her husband owned the cafe, but he was on the North Slope working as a driller on an oilrig. She was half Alabaskan Indian and had left a job in the “lower 48” to come home and run this café.

Where was her help? Was she alone?

The cook had come in drunk that morning and had been sent home. Her other helper had attempted to "sprint" the 120 miles to Fairbanks for supplies and had not come back.

The men glanced at each other and an unspoken decision was reached. Did she want a little help?

A moments pause, as she looked cautiously at the four, wondering what she was getting herself into, but knowing full well the mess she was already in. "Yes, a little help would be great..."

The four leaped into action. A teamwork forged years before came forward as each identified a task that needed to be done and took about doing it. Gordie, accountant that he was, headed to the cash register where piles of receipts and money lay unattended. Bob grabbed a tray and cleared tables, poured water for the waiting customers and made (drinkable) coffee. Allen headed for the kitchen, which was in total disarray, and began organizing orders and washing dishes. Glen put on an apron and began taking orders and delivering food. The unsuspecting customers had no warning of the insanity that was to follow.

"What’s the soup of the day?"

"Don't have a clue."

"Ok then, what's good?"

"Beat's me. Never ate here."

Confusion and laughter filled the room. Several less adventuresome parties quickly got up and left. The rest sat back and watched.

Clem was shell-shocked. She was standing at the smoking grill, turning in circles when the tour bus pulled into the dirt parking lot. Allen, who had at one time been a Navy helicopter pilot, approached her directly, as was his style.

"Clem… Look At Me!", he snapped as he pointed to his eyes with two fingers of his right hand

She froze like a deer in the headlights and looked into his eyes.

"You've got to tell us what to do." he said firmly, "Tell us what to do… NOW!"

She shook her head, took a deep breath and began to communicate with her new team. "Gordie… or whatever your name is, go next door and get ice. Oh, and hot dog rolls, too! Tell them it's for Clem."

"Glen, we're out of the chicken baskets. Push the bean soup. It's the special."

"Allen, I need plates washed, food basket set-ups and onions sliced. Right away!"

"Bob, the table in the corner needs coffee refills. And bring me some hamburgers from the freezer."

The customers were paying full attention now. They were fascinated at the unfolding circus of activity and took every opportunity to engage in the chaos by asking questions.

"So you don't work here?"

"Nope, just helping out. The cook came in drunk."

One whiskered, old geezer asked, "Did Clem hire you?"

"Nope"

"Didn't think so… You guys are pretty odd."

"Yup."

Slowly the food was served, the payments were received, the tables were cleaned and reset and new customers were seated.

"Sorry for the delay. Here… have a coffee on the house."

"Yeah, I think there's blueberry pie. Lemme check."

"No toilet paper in the bathroom? Here, take some napkins..."

" OK… Who Ordered The Chili Dog?"

Peals of laughter spread through the cafe as customers were caught up in the mayhem, Clem's laughter the loudest among them. In the midst of the chaos, Clem’s helper, Mildred, showed up from her supply run to Fairbanks and stopped in her tracks as she entered the kitchen.



"Sorry Clem, I got caught up in the road construction.... Who the heck are these grungy guys?"

"They're Angels! I prayed for them and my prayers were answered... I really thought that angels would smell better though." she laughed. "Listen, I need 2 toasted cheese sandwiches right away… and where's the frozen chicken?"

Now the team was firing on all cylinders. The rush of customers surged and waned and surged again. Finally the restaurant began to clear. One customer nursed his coffee and seemed in no hurry to leave.

Bob approached him. "Can I get you some desert or something?"

"Nope, just sticking around for the dinner show," he grinned.

By 3:00 it was over. Clem sat the men down to steaming bowls of bean soup and her famous halibut baskets. They ate like ravenous dogs and regaled each other with stories of the past three hours. They laughed until they were doubled over, gasping for breath.




Finally, it was time to go. With a twinkle in her eye, Clem handed them a signed copy of the menu as a thank you memento. She embraced each man as they filed out the door and back into the RV, back into their lives. As they drove toward the airport, Bob opened the menu and read these words; “I do believe in angels! Thanks for jumping in and helping me through the chaos. You guys are great. Come back real soon!”.



It struck the men that, in a way, they had already come back. They had come back to the priceless friendships that had been formed 30 years past at UMO. Their time together had renewed and refreshed them. And they promised to gather again in the years to come… at the Tseysu Café in Cantwell, Alaska.