I gave it to my kids for Christmas this year. I have waited for a way to be able to print the book, and FINALLY I found a site on the internet that does print-on-demand so I didn't have to pay for a grundle of books to gather dust in my closet somewhere.
I'm very proud of my endeavor. It's cute. The story is short and sweet and the illustrations are simple. (Although this SIMPLE book took over 50 hours to create....HA!)
This blog isn't about my accomplishment (although I am very proud. Yes, I've patted my back a couple of times.) I wanted to write about Ray. I wanted to share more of the story.
Ray was our neighbor for 5 years before I came to know him. I would see him pass by my house in his pick-up truck with his trusty dog, Bandit, sitting in the passenger seat. Sometimes we would do the obligatory wave to each other, but quite honestly, most times I found something to occupy my hands so I wouldn't have to acknowledge him.
He was a beast of a neighbor. He was constantly swearing at me. He swore at the *#! damn dogs and my *#! damn kids. As my kids got older and the boys began skating, he would stop his truck on his way home to yell at them to get out of the *#! damn road. He got my phone number and would call me OFTEN to tell me that my dogs were barking, or the kids were playing too loud, or that I needed to get my kids off the skateboards. Yes, he was a nightmare. I avoided his calls, his gaze and his hellos at ALL costs.
Fast forward to the early summer of 2001. I can't remember why, but the power was out. It had been out for a few hours and Mark, the kids and I were outside in the back yard. The kids were playing football with Mark and I was folding a load of laundry at the picnic table.
Dusk fell upon us and we began breaking out the candles and flashlights. I was watching the kids scamper around the yard when I saw Ray exit his truck and make his way up his back stairs and into his house. I know my first thought was something like "Looks like the Grumpy-Old-Man-Around-The-Corner is home". Then, I caught myself and thought "I wonder if he has a flashlight with working batteries, or candles to light up this darkness." I decided that we had better go check on him and see if he needed anything.
Quite honestly, I don't remember if I went over to his house, or if I sent the girls over, but either way, he was checked on and despite all voiced worries and complaints from the kids, he was invited to dinner the following night. I was certain Ray would not want to come. I could have sworn that he despised our family and dogs and that there was no way under the heavens that he would set foot in our home. I had told the kids that I knew he wouldn't come so there would be no harm in asking. I told them "sometimes grumpy people are just lonely" so we would just invite him to be nice and then it would be over and we had done the "right thing". Nearly blew me away when he accepted. Crap! Now I not only had to make dinner for this ornery old fart, but I had to think of CONVERSATION. Ugh.
We barbecued. Ray came over and brought along his dog. We had a great time. He told stories about his horses, his youth, his dog and experiences he had while on the job as a police officer. He was witty and charming and a genuine pleasure to have. That was the beginning of one of my greatest friendships. Ever.
There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't take the time to swing by his house and visit. However brief or extended our visits, I made sure he was healthy and fed. I told him daily that I loved him. And I meant it. I drove him to doctor appointments, shopping, and any errands that he needed to see to. He still drove himself to breakfast every morning and dinner on week nights and on Saturdays. But Sundays were ours.
Ray came every Sunday for dinner. Most times I would make mashed potatoes, or some kind of side dish and he would have me take him to Kentucky Fried Chicken and he would get a bucket of chicken. He loved that stuff.
Tanna and Shelby cleaned his house two or three times a week. They would do some general cleaning and most times the cleaning led to sitting in the front room and chatting with Ray. They adored him and enjoyed this time immensely.
I worried about Ray. I am able to see his back yard from my bedroom window and I would check several times a day to see when his truck made it home, if his sidewalks needed shoveled or if he was making his way in or out of his house. He was aging and with that came a sort of shuffle-walk. He took FOREVER to get from point A to point B. I would watch the tedious progress and my heart would fill with a mixture of amusement and concern.
My circumstances changed and I found myself temporarily adding three more children to my own five. I went to work. I worked nights and Sunday mornings to help balance the additional monetary demands that were placed on our family.
Saturday, January 05, 2002 rolled around and for some reason I had to work that day. I didn't usually work Saturdays, and after working a full shift, I was anticipating my sweats, a movie and a dinner of "if you can find it, you can eat it". Mark was out of town on a golf trip and I wasn't cooking. Period.
My bliss (or more like my idea of bliss) came to a screeching halt when I walked into my house and was informed that Ray had called. I was supposed to go to his house at 5:00, but that was an hour away and I was oh-so-tired and in serious need of a break. I went up to my room and while I was changing my clothes, he called the house AGAIN. Arrrrrrrgh.
When I picked up the phone, Ray told me he was "ready to go get the chicken." Remember that we did dinner on SUNDAY? Well, Ray didn't remember. I told him that I was going to be there to visit in an hour, but we weren't doing dinner until tomorrow and that since I wasn't coming for an hour he still had time to go grab his dinner at Nates Diner (that's where he ate EVERY night) and I would come over when he got back. He told me he'd see me in a minute.
Sigh. Looked like we were having chicken.
I got dressed and half-heartedly headed out the door. I made my way around the block to Ray's house and went inside.
Ray had on his cowboy finest. He had his good hat (black felt cowboy hat), a new shirt (tan with blue, black and red vertical stripes and pearl button/snaps), blue jean Wranglers and his good boots. He had shaved and got himself all "pertied up" for dinner. He was so spunky that it quickly rubbed off onto me and I snapped myself into good spirits.
We had a routine. While he was getting his stuff gathered, I would take his keys, load up Bandit (we didn't go ANYWHERE without her) and start up the truck to get it warming up while I went back into the house and made the shuffle/walk trek from his back door to the truck.
I got the truck started and headed in to help him down the stairs. Ray told me a joke. I remembered the joke for years, but it now eludes me. Anyhow, we were laughing and teasing with each other. Ray would brace himself with the handrail on his left side and I would keep his right side steady as we maneuvered the five stairs leading down to his sidewalk.
We were maneuvering, laughing, and holding hands when IT happened. We had made it down two stairs and had three to go when Ray turned purple, gasped and fell on me. Down we both went.
I'm sure what came next was only a few minutes, but honestly, it felt like hours. You know in movies when someone is screaming for help and the neighbors hear and come running and an ambulance is called and all live happily ever after? It's all a lie.
I scrambled from underneath him. I began screaming for help. Nobody heard me. I began CPR on him. I remember crying and begging him not to "make me do this". I remember being filled with such hope as I blew life into his lungs. For a split second his color would return. But as I would pump his heart, his color would slowly ebb and he would return to grey.
After a few minutes, I knew nobody was going to hear my cries and that I would have to briefly leave him to get to a phone. Can I tell you that was one of the most difficult things I have ever done? It was only about 30 seconds, but I knew each second would count. I prayed that I would find wind beneath my wings.
I ran into the house and grabbed the phone and was dialing 9-1-1 as I busted back to him. Once the dispatcher answered, I threw the phone on the ground beside his head and began yelling into the phone that I needed help. Problem was, I didn't know his exact address, and I wasn't about to stop performing CPR again to find his address. I gave them the address to my house and gave them directions to Ray's house from that point. I yelled his name to them and told them they had dang well better find me.
My best friend died in my arms.
I don't know if it was fate or some Higher Power that had intervened that day. I don't know why he was so insistent that I come right then, but I'm glad I did.
I wish I had something great and inspiring to say to end this. I don't. I know that I'm glad I listened to the "Jiminy Cricket" in my heart when he said to invite Ray over. I'm glad that I shared the last stage of his life. I'm glad that I was the one to hold him when he passed.
Listen. Watch. See. Feel.
I don't think those four things can lead you astray.
I'm very proud of my endeavor. It's cute. The story is short and sweet and the illustrations are simple. (Although this SIMPLE book took over 50 hours to create....HA!)
This blog isn't about my accomplishment (although I am very proud. Yes, I've patted my back a couple of times.) I wanted to write about Ray. I wanted to share more of the story.
Ray was our neighbor for 5 years before I came to know him. I would see him pass by my house in his pick-up truck with his trusty dog, Bandit, sitting in the passenger seat. Sometimes we would do the obligatory wave to each other, but quite honestly, most times I found something to occupy my hands so I wouldn't have to acknowledge him.
He was a beast of a neighbor. He was constantly swearing at me. He swore at the *#! damn dogs and my *#! damn kids. As my kids got older and the boys began skating, he would stop his truck on his way home to yell at them to get out of the *#! damn road. He got my phone number and would call me OFTEN to tell me that my dogs were barking, or the kids were playing too loud, or that I needed to get my kids off the skateboards. Yes, he was a nightmare. I avoided his calls, his gaze and his hellos at ALL costs.
Fast forward to the early summer of 2001. I can't remember why, but the power was out. It had been out for a few hours and Mark, the kids and I were outside in the back yard. The kids were playing football with Mark and I was folding a load of laundry at the picnic table.
Dusk fell upon us and we began breaking out the candles and flashlights. I was watching the kids scamper around the yard when I saw Ray exit his truck and make his way up his back stairs and into his house. I know my first thought was something like "Looks like the Grumpy-Old-Man-Around-The-Corner is home". Then, I caught myself and thought "I wonder if he has a flashlight with working batteries, or candles to light up this darkness." I decided that we had better go check on him and see if he needed anything.
Quite honestly, I don't remember if I went over to his house, or if I sent the girls over, but either way, he was checked on and despite all voiced worries and complaints from the kids, he was invited to dinner the following night. I was certain Ray would not want to come. I could have sworn that he despised our family and dogs and that there was no way under the heavens that he would set foot in our home. I had told the kids that I knew he wouldn't come so there would be no harm in asking. I told them "sometimes grumpy people are just lonely" so we would just invite him to be nice and then it would be over and we had done the "right thing". Nearly blew me away when he accepted. Crap! Now I not only had to make dinner for this ornery old fart, but I had to think of CONVERSATION. Ugh.
We barbecued. Ray came over and brought along his dog. We had a great time. He told stories about his horses, his youth, his dog and experiences he had while on the job as a police officer. He was witty and charming and a genuine pleasure to have. That was the beginning of one of my greatest friendships. Ever.
There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't take the time to swing by his house and visit. However brief or extended our visits, I made sure he was healthy and fed. I told him daily that I loved him. And I meant it. I drove him to doctor appointments, shopping, and any errands that he needed to see to. He still drove himself to breakfast every morning and dinner on week nights and on Saturdays. But Sundays were ours.
Ray came every Sunday for dinner. Most times I would make mashed potatoes, or some kind of side dish and he would have me take him to Kentucky Fried Chicken and he would get a bucket of chicken. He loved that stuff.
Tanna and Shelby cleaned his house two or three times a week. They would do some general cleaning and most times the cleaning led to sitting in the front room and chatting with Ray. They adored him and enjoyed this time immensely.
I worried about Ray. I am able to see his back yard from my bedroom window and I would check several times a day to see when his truck made it home, if his sidewalks needed shoveled or if he was making his way in or out of his house. He was aging and with that came a sort of shuffle-walk. He took FOREVER to get from point A to point B. I would watch the tedious progress and my heart would fill with a mixture of amusement and concern.
My circumstances changed and I found myself temporarily adding three more children to my own five. I went to work. I worked nights and Sunday mornings to help balance the additional monetary demands that were placed on our family.
Saturday, January 05, 2002 rolled around and for some reason I had to work that day. I didn't usually work Saturdays, and after working a full shift, I was anticipating my sweats, a movie and a dinner of "if you can find it, you can eat it". Mark was out of town on a golf trip and I wasn't cooking. Period.
My bliss (or more like my idea of bliss) came to a screeching halt when I walked into my house and was informed that Ray had called. I was supposed to go to his house at 5:00, but that was an hour away and I was oh-so-tired and in serious need of a break. I went up to my room and while I was changing my clothes, he called the house AGAIN. Arrrrrrrgh.
When I picked up the phone, Ray told me he was "ready to go get the chicken." Remember that we did dinner on SUNDAY? Well, Ray didn't remember. I told him that I was going to be there to visit in an hour, but we weren't doing dinner until tomorrow and that since I wasn't coming for an hour he still had time to go grab his dinner at Nates Diner (that's where he ate EVERY night) and I would come over when he got back. He told me he'd see me in a minute.
Sigh. Looked like we were having chicken.
I got dressed and half-heartedly headed out the door. I made my way around the block to Ray's house and went inside.
Ray had on his cowboy finest. He had his good hat (black felt cowboy hat), a new shirt (tan with blue, black and red vertical stripes and pearl button/snaps), blue jean Wranglers and his good boots. He had shaved and got himself all "pertied up" for dinner. He was so spunky that it quickly rubbed off onto me and I snapped myself into good spirits.
We had a routine. While he was getting his stuff gathered, I would take his keys, load up Bandit (we didn't go ANYWHERE without her) and start up the truck to get it warming up while I went back into the house and made the shuffle/walk trek from his back door to the truck.
I got the truck started and headed in to help him down the stairs. Ray told me a joke. I remembered the joke for years, but it now eludes me. Anyhow, we were laughing and teasing with each other. Ray would brace himself with the handrail on his left side and I would keep his right side steady as we maneuvered the five stairs leading down to his sidewalk.
We were maneuvering, laughing, and holding hands when IT happened. We had made it down two stairs and had three to go when Ray turned purple, gasped and fell on me. Down we both went.
I'm sure what came next was only a few minutes, but honestly, it felt like hours. You know in movies when someone is screaming for help and the neighbors hear and come running and an ambulance is called and all live happily ever after? It's all a lie.
I scrambled from underneath him. I began screaming for help. Nobody heard me. I began CPR on him. I remember crying and begging him not to "make me do this". I remember being filled with such hope as I blew life into his lungs. For a split second his color would return. But as I would pump his heart, his color would slowly ebb and he would return to grey.
After a few minutes, I knew nobody was going to hear my cries and that I would have to briefly leave him to get to a phone. Can I tell you that was one of the most difficult things I have ever done? It was only about 30 seconds, but I knew each second would count. I prayed that I would find wind beneath my wings.
I ran into the house and grabbed the phone and was dialing 9-1-1 as I busted back to him. Once the dispatcher answered, I threw the phone on the ground beside his head and began yelling into the phone that I needed help. Problem was, I didn't know his exact address, and I wasn't about to stop performing CPR again to find his address. I gave them the address to my house and gave them directions to Ray's house from that point. I yelled his name to them and told them they had dang well better find me.
My best friend died in my arms.
I don't know if it was fate or some Higher Power that had intervened that day. I don't know why he was so insistent that I come right then, but I'm glad I did.
I wish I had something great and inspiring to say to end this. I don't. I know that I'm glad I listened to the "Jiminy Cricket" in my heart when he said to invite Ray over. I'm glad that I shared the last stage of his life. I'm glad that I was the one to hold him when he passed.
Listen. Watch. See. Feel.
I don't think those four things can lead you astray.
