-Daniel
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018
Showing posts with label To the Friends now gone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label To the Friends now gone. Show all posts
Friday, May 11, 2018
Monday, May 4, 2015
For Bev Cheney
Bev Cheney was the youngest of my grandfather's siblings. As a child, I would visit her in Phelps, NY, where my mom's parents also lived. Bev shared with me a love of history, and a lot of energy. After I moved to North Carolina in 1983, I lost touch with Bev, apart from occasional reunions.
Bev and I reconnected in 2006, at a large family reunion. After talking to her, I couldn't believe that I hadn't thought about reaching out to her before. She was a living, breathing link to the family that I loved. We lined Bev and her older sister up in front of a huge contingent of King family members. It was so large, I couldn't tell you how many there were. But we did it, with me taking the photos. I had been the first great-grandchild of Bev's parents, and I was proud to document this history.
For a long time, I tried to stay in touch with Bev. However, she was still a very busy person. She was involved with the Phelps Historical Society, and the local food bank. I tried many times to email her, or call, but she was hard to catch. Much like myself and my grandfather, I don't think she ever stopped, or slept.
Thankfully, I saw her again when I returned to Phelps in the last few years. She saw me deliver eulogies for both of my father's parents, mustering all of my nerves to say what needed to be said. Bev told me that George (her brother, my grandfather) had always been so proud of me. I think that she might have been proud of me, too. Thinking about that today still stops me in my tracks.
In the last few months, I finally got around to scanning and organizing my grandfather's World War II scrapbook. Bev and I traded emails about myself donating copies of this to the Phelps Historical Society. I also asked her about talking about family history. I don't think that she was ever keen to talk about this, but I wanted to ask, one more time.
Bev passed away suddenly this morning. Her death was quick. She thankfully never had to slow down, despite recent health issues. She never had to go into a home, or become someone other than who she'd been. Just like my grandfather. As I sit here, it's tough to acknowledge that a generation of family that I once knew and loved so well is no longer on this physical plane. But they, and what they created, lives on. In the family that has sprouted from those long ago seeds, and the people and memories that Bev and her family touched along the way. That, I'm proud to say, will never end.
I came home this afternoon, and wrote Bev one more email. All it said was, "I love you." What else is there to say?
Safe travels, Bev. Tell Mom and Pop King, Mary and the ol' kid that I hello.
-Daniel
May 4, 2015
Bev and I reconnected in 2006, at a large family reunion. After talking to her, I couldn't believe that I hadn't thought about reaching out to her before. She was a living, breathing link to the family that I loved. We lined Bev and her older sister up in front of a huge contingent of King family members. It was so large, I couldn't tell you how many there were. But we did it, with me taking the photos. I had been the first great-grandchild of Bev's parents, and I was proud to document this history.
For a long time, I tried to stay in touch with Bev. However, she was still a very busy person. She was involved with the Phelps Historical Society, and the local food bank. I tried many times to email her, or call, but she was hard to catch. Much like myself and my grandfather, I don't think she ever stopped, or slept.
Thankfully, I saw her again when I returned to Phelps in the last few years. She saw me deliver eulogies for both of my father's parents, mustering all of my nerves to say what needed to be said. Bev told me that George (her brother, my grandfather) had always been so proud of me. I think that she might have been proud of me, too. Thinking about that today still stops me in my tracks.
In the last few months, I finally got around to scanning and organizing my grandfather's World War II scrapbook. Bev and I traded emails about myself donating copies of this to the Phelps Historical Society. I also asked her about talking about family history. I don't think that she was ever keen to talk about this, but I wanted to ask, one more time.
Bev passed away suddenly this morning. Her death was quick. She thankfully never had to slow down, despite recent health issues. She never had to go into a home, or become someone other than who she'd been. Just like my grandfather. As I sit here, it's tough to acknowledge that a generation of family that I once knew and loved so well is no longer on this physical plane. But they, and what they created, lives on. In the family that has sprouted from those long ago seeds, and the people and memories that Bev and her family touched along the way. That, I'm proud to say, will never end.
I came home this afternoon, and wrote Bev one more email. All it said was, "I love you." What else is there to say?
Safe travels, Bev. Tell Mom and Pop King, Mary and the ol' kid that I hello.
-Daniel
May 4, 2015
Friday, May 1, 2015
For Jeff Sebastian
I drove past a cemetery in Mint Hill, NC last week. The cemetery is just around the block from where I went to high school. Within that cemetery lies Jeff Sebastian. I thought about Jeff, and realized that it had been 25 years since he had left this place. 25 years. Where did it all go…
Jeff had joined my high school’s drama department about the same time I did, in my sophmore year. Jeff was a year older than me, and was popular within the class. We knew that Jeff had dealt with issues in his past, as he told us about them one day during class. We acted in a couple of plays together, and during my junior year, Jeff was one of the many classmates that took part in a comedy TV show that I put together for local TV. I spent way too long in putting that first show together. My whole junior year, in fact. In retrospect, I should have been more organized, more open to the input of others, and done more shows. But the shows we did do were good, and ultimately, it’s the work you do that one leaves behind. Sometimes, I have to remind myself of that.
Jeff had moved to a school in South Carolina before Christmas of 1989. In April in 1990, my friend called me to say that Jeff had died in a car accident. At Jeff’s wake and funeral, none of us knew how to act, or respond. We were all teenagers, dealing with something that we had not planned on dealing with. My upbringing made me deal with it all in a more internal way. I just got on with things, although it was a long time before I really dealt with it in a real way.
By the end of the school year, our first show was finally ready to go. I also knew how I wanted it to end, with a sketch that Jeff had done early in our filming. When I went to edit the tape, I realized that I had a problem. The school’s video camera that we’d used at the time was old, and had a weak signal. You could play the video, but the signal was too weak to be copied to the show’s master tape. After some thinking, I decided to use my then-new video camera to video my TV as I played Jeff’s original tape. I even included shots of a TV channel being changed, so it looked like it was a planned part of the show. It wasn’t, but there was no way that the show would not run without Jeff. Again, I just put my head down, and got on with it, and made sure that Jeff was with us, again.
25 years. Six years longer than Jeff was alive. In retrospect, I’m not sure how well I knew Jeff. He was a good guy, but there was more to Jeff than I ever had the chance to know. I understand that better now, all these years on. All of that being said, I still miss him, and the life that he never got to experience. In these internet-heavy days, it has been said that if your name is not online, people aren’t sure if you exist, or ever did exist. Consider this an online post about someone who left this place all too soon, but was not forgotten by those that knew him.
Safe travels, Jeff. Wherever you are.
-Daniel
April 30, 2015
Jeff had joined my high school’s drama department about the same time I did, in my sophmore year. Jeff was a year older than me, and was popular within the class. We knew that Jeff had dealt with issues in his past, as he told us about them one day during class. We acted in a couple of plays together, and during my junior year, Jeff was one of the many classmates that took part in a comedy TV show that I put together for local TV. I spent way too long in putting that first show together. My whole junior year, in fact. In retrospect, I should have been more organized, more open to the input of others, and done more shows. But the shows we did do were good, and ultimately, it’s the work you do that one leaves behind. Sometimes, I have to remind myself of that.
Jeff had moved to a school in South Carolina before Christmas of 1989. In April in 1990, my friend called me to say that Jeff had died in a car accident. At Jeff’s wake and funeral, none of us knew how to act, or respond. We were all teenagers, dealing with something that we had not planned on dealing with. My upbringing made me deal with it all in a more internal way. I just got on with things, although it was a long time before I really dealt with it in a real way.
By the end of the school year, our first show was finally ready to go. I also knew how I wanted it to end, with a sketch that Jeff had done early in our filming. When I went to edit the tape, I realized that I had a problem. The school’s video camera that we’d used at the time was old, and had a weak signal. You could play the video, but the signal was too weak to be copied to the show’s master tape. After some thinking, I decided to use my then-new video camera to video my TV as I played Jeff’s original tape. I even included shots of a TV channel being changed, so it looked like it was a planned part of the show. It wasn’t, but there was no way that the show would not run without Jeff. Again, I just put my head down, and got on with it, and made sure that Jeff was with us, again.
25 years. Six years longer than Jeff was alive. In retrospect, I’m not sure how well I knew Jeff. He was a good guy, but there was more to Jeff than I ever had the chance to know. I understand that better now, all these years on. All of that being said, I still miss him, and the life that he never got to experience. In these internet-heavy days, it has been said that if your name is not online, people aren’t sure if you exist, or ever did exist. Consider this an online post about someone who left this place all too soon, but was not forgotten by those that knew him.
Safe travels, Jeff. Wherever you are.
-Daniel
April 30, 2015
RIP Doug Coates
Doug Coates passed away right before Christmas, but it talen this long for me to get my head in the right place to say someything. I first met Doug in 1996, when I start wandering back into WTVI to find work. Doug was the production manager for the station, and had come down from Pittsburgh, where he had with Fred Rogers on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. We all thought that was pretty cool. In fact, I still do.
In January of 1997, Doug started hiring me as a camera operator for projects at WTVI. Early morning Catholic diocese programs, call-in talk shows, zumba classes, we did them all. By the end of thes year, I was working on County Commission meetings, and working on for what was like an eternity on thev station’s Tel-o-Rama extravaganza. Which was nicknamed the Hell-o-Rama by several people, myself included. Over the years, Doug kept me employed at the station, and those checks helped to keep me afloat for a long time. Thank you, Doug.
Doug’s health had been starting to decline when the station let him go. I knew in my heart that Doug was not going to get better, but it was a sad end to a long career. I saw Doug some after he retired. I should have some him more, and time, and left got in the way. I left a message for Doug before he died, sending him my best wishes. I really did mean to call again, but I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I had said all I could say.
Once again, Doug, thank you. Safe travels, and see you down the road,
-Daniel
April 30, 2015
In January of 1997, Doug started hiring me as a camera operator for projects at WTVI. Early morning Catholic diocese programs, call-in talk shows, zumba classes, we did them all. By the end of thes year, I was working on County Commission meetings, and working on for what was like an eternity on thev station’s Tel-o-Rama extravaganza. Which was nicknamed the Hell-o-Rama by several people, myself included. Over the years, Doug kept me employed at the station, and those checks helped to keep me afloat for a long time. Thank you, Doug.
Doug’s health had been starting to decline when the station let him go. I knew in my heart that Doug was not going to get better, but it was a sad end to a long career. I saw Doug some after he retired. I should have some him more, and time, and left got in the way. I left a message for Doug before he died, sending him my best wishes. I really did mean to call again, but I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I had said all I could say.
Once again, Doug, thank you. Safe travels, and see you down the road,
-Daniel
April 30, 2015
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