Oh Darling Ones,

As I type I’m snotting my way through the Junior Prom episode of “Dawson’s Creek” and sending warm vibes up to my friend Christa in Duluth. She is also a member of Team Pacey whose heart is heavy with the news of James Van Der Beek’s death. He was only 48. Van Der Beek was the star of “Dawson’s Creek.”

Long time readers might remember my love for The Creek. I discovered the show round the same time I launched this website and so there are many, many, many entries about and references to “Dawson’s Creek.” I was gonna count, but got bored after hitting page 9 of the search results. Some highlights? 10 Best Episodes of Dawson’s Creek, Top 10 reasons Pacey is better than Dawson, and the one where coped with my dad’s death just like Dawson did.

This show is part of me. I’m basically Replacements’Lyrics, episodes of Dawson’s Creek, and Bob’s Burgers references in a trench coat. I remember Dawson’s Creek better than I remember my own high school years.

I’m not sure what drew me to the show. I didn’t start watching until season three. It was probably just a case of right place, right time. I was lonely in my first solo-apartment with little to no furniture and a tv that only got the WB. I didn’t get to watch the first three seasons until the DVDs came in the red Netflix envelopes.

Darling Ones, I’m lost in nostalgia and not sure I have the emotional strength to resist 2001-2003. But I couldn’t let this passing go unmentioned because James Van Der Beek’s work was important to me.

If I had it in me I’d dig a little deeper, but I need to reserve my emotional strength for tomorrow, which is wheelchair delivery day. Uffda.

Team Pacey forever,
Jodi

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Dear Darling Ones,

Tuesday we celebrated the life of my Aunt Sherry, who died much too young (67) down in Florida where she retired with my Uncle Wayne.

I attended the celebration at the Savage American Legion along with a lot of my St. Martin family, what felt like half of Savage, and, to my delight, a few bowlers from the < a href="https://iwilldare.com/category/work/bowling/">Dan Patch Lanes days.

When Nancy, who bowled the Tuesday Womens’ league along with my Aunt Sherry and sisters, walked in, Sister #4 started hitting me in the should, “Look Nancy Westphal is here!” Then she turned to our mom and did the same thing.

“I’m acting like a celebrity just walked in,” Sister #4 said.
“She is Hot Randy’s mom,” I said.

When I die if I have a funeral/celebration of life that’s half as filled and lively as Aunt Sherry’s, I’ll be pretty damn pleased in the afterlife I’m not sure I believe in.

I’m so happy I went. There was never any doubt in my mind I wouldn’t go, which was also nice. It was the first time I’ve attended a social gathering in public outside my house since the stroke. Also the first social gathering in my janky-ass wheelchair.

This means it was also the first time I’ve seen so much of my family since the stroke. Boy, were they happy to see me, and I was thrilled to see them. What made me happiest of all, on a sorrow-filled day, is that I had zero anxiety about going or seeing any of them in what I often call my “new body and new brain.” Besides being infinitely hilarious, my St. Martin family makes me feel comfortable.

Toward the end of the afternoon I got a chance to talk to my cousin, Chad. He’s Sister #2’s age, about 50, and also uses a wheelchair. Fun Fact: between both sides of the family Sister #2 has five cousins that are her age. 1974/early-75 was a fertile period for the Chromeys and St. Martins.

“Nice chair,” I said to Chad, who has muscular dystrophy.

Even though my mom had told me Chad had muscular dystrophy about a hundred times over the years, I always assumed she meant multiple sclerosis. Everything I know about MD I learned as a child from the Jerry Lewis telethon and I decided it was a disease that affected children. Chad went to college on a baseball scholarship and as far as I know didn’t develop MD until his 30s or 40s.

“Wheelchair’s suck,” Chad said.
“But your’s is so nice,” I said. His had a joystick and glowing buttons and was the Maserati of wheelchairs as far as I’m concerned. Mine has uneven wheels and is the 1999 Chevy S10 of wheelchairs.

We spent a little time swapping stories about how much it sucks to be disabled. That was kida awesome finding someone in my own family who can relate. As they were kicking us out, yes we shut the funeral down, I put my number in his phone. Hopefully there’s more commiseration in the future.

Also, one more thing. My Cousin Jason & Uncle Wayne let me take home the enormous peace lily (pictured above). I’ve named her Sherry, obvs, and she joins the Sadness Garden with Muriel, a pathos I’ve had since Grammu died in 2003 and Eleanor IV, a peace lily that is named after my Grandma Chromey and a peace lily I had from her funeral in 1990 that Paco & Madison murdered in 2006. I’ve replaced her a few times.

Peace,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

Today marks a year since my dad just died.

How it can be simultaneously a year ago already and only a year ago is not a mystery.

A lot has happened since September 16, 2022.

• My Uncle Danny died.
• Sister #2’s high school best friend Betty died.
• I got my first-ever UTI (I forgot about this one!).
• My vision went to hell.
• I had a stroke.
• I got the COVID.
• My college friend Baltus died.
• I had an adverse reaction to a medication that landed me in the ER and left me with constant light-headedness and rapid-cycling panic attacks for three weeks until we figured out the medication thing.

I bet more things have happened in the six months since I had the stroke that are not stroke-related, but I cannot tell you what they were.

While the stroke did not wipe out my memory, it’s done a number on my thoughts. I spend a lot of my brain power thinking about myself, specifically how my body feels and if it will ever feel better.

In a sense I have not had the time grieve everything that happened in 2022. Hell, I haven’t even grieved the losses caused by the stroke. Grieving takes time and thought and energy and I do not have any of that right now.

It makes me a little sad. All those losses deserve more than I gave them, and I hope in time I will get to that grief. But right now it’s taking all I got to stay alive and try to recover.

At least I managed this, a few words for all that loss.

Love,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

On Saturday I logged into Facebook, something I don’t do too often, to find a woman I graduated high school with had died.

The Blaine class of 1990 has lost many Bengals in the 33 years since we graduated. This one, though, hit me hard.

I didn’t know Becki well, which is not surprising since our class included 650+ kids. However, I knew of Becki since she was a little person. I’m sure she knew of me too, since I was a giant.

Unusual height was not the only thing Becki and I had in common. We both had strokes.

Becki’s stroke killed her. Mine is simply annoying me to within an inch of my life. I’ve never been so grateful for an annoyance in my life.

It’s hard to reckon with how both Becki and I suffered a stroke and had such different outcomes. I’m typing about mine on the Internet while her friends and family plan her funeral.

Why was I spared? How did I get so lucky? Who knows? Since I’m pretty nihilistic, I don’t think there’s a reason and if there is, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

The world is random and often meaningless, and as my new PT said, sometimes brains are jerks.

Becki’s brain was jerkier than mine.

Bleh.

In other news, Sister #2 arrived a week ago for a surprise visit. She’s here until the first. She’s taking me to my 384 appointments. This is barely an exaggeration. I have various physical and occupational therapies four times a week. More on this later.

She’s also helping me declutter Supergenius HQ. Yesterday I donated 28 unused notebooks. That doesn’t count the 10 or so I kept.

She also put a new toilet in my downstairs bathroom to replace my squatty potty. It’s ginormous and I love it! Today she’s doing the bathroom in my bedroom.

Anyway, I’ll tell you more about what’s happening next week.

Grateful I’m here to annoy you too,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

My Aunt Tete died on June 16th — nine months to the day that her younger brother, my dad, died.

Even though Sister #2 was briefly here last week for the funeral, I did not attend. I’m not ready to display my stroke-addled carcass to the world.

Sister #2 talked about how weird it was to be in that space with so many people missing. Of the 10 siblings in my dad’s family, only two remain.

I’m sad I didn’t get to attend the funeral and mourn my aunt with my cousins, her many nieces and nephews.

While she probably didn’t call herself a spinster, Aunt Tete was the OG spinster aunt in my life. She forged the path I followed, though it took her death for me to recognize it.

Aunt Tete was fiercely independent, living on her own until she entered hospice the week she died. She was quite fond of saying, “I do what I want.” And this line from her obituary can be copied and pasted into mine,“Terese’s legacy of speaking her mind will continue to inspire us to be true to ourselves and to stand up for what we believe in, just as she did throughout her life.”

Though she never had children of her own, Aunt Tete helped raise a bunch of her niblings. She did, in fact, raise my cousin Christopher when his mom was unable to. She was a grandma to Chris’ kids.

My Aunt Tete was liberal as hell, which seems at odds with her devout Catholicism. It’s not. She was the kind of Christian who actually read the bible. As her priest said at her funeral, she lived a life of faith and generosity.

And, as my sister said, that’s a hell of a legacy to leave behind.

Love,
Jodi

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