Celebration, Jiggy Style

This past weekend I gathered, along with many friends, family, and relative strangers; to celebrate the life of my sister, Jocie Garlick, and the birth of a memorial on top of Beaver Mountain.  I haven't written a lot about what happened to my family six months ago, in part because this is a very public forum for such personal details, but mostly because I don't think that I am ready to.  The emotions are still too raw to internalize and then spit out in the manner I usually employ for my writings.  I think about writing about it, about her, about the aftermath, all the time; I suppose that's good enough for now.

During the program, Jocie's closest friends let go of 99 (give or take, I heard a lot of popping noises) red balloons.  I didn't get to see much of this part of the program, as in the moment this picture was taken, Dione and I started performing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' (With both of us singing and I on guitar, brave I know.).  I had given my camera to Heady, Bob's sister, and she took this, as well as many other incredible pictures.  I just love the look on these girls' faces.  It makes me cry and smile at the same time.

I also include this self-portrait of Heather 'Heady' Fawson.  A word for the wise, if you want lovely pictures taken while you're busy, give your camera to Heather.  But beware, it will come back with several self-portraits, and undoubtably, a picture of Jayme Champlin in there too.  (I think this is the corner of her head here.  That blonde bit right by the sky there.)

Battery Bob

This is a picture of Bob sitting on a park bench in Battery Park, at the southern tip of Manhattan during our recent trip to New York at the beginning of September.  We were on our way to the Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island when I insisted on taking a bunch of pictures and Bob sat down to Crackberry.

POW!

I have decided to instigate a 'picture of the week' for my blog.  This week's picture is from our trip last August to the San Juan Islands with the rest of the Fawson clan.  I took this on our sunset kayaking ride, which was amazing.  As is often the case, the picture does not do the scene justice.

9/11

I would have to echo the sentiments of several other blogs I recently read about 9/11 and the shock that seven years have slipped past. I remember sitting in early morning seminary and turning on the tv when only one plane had hit and then watching, mainly in confusion, as a second plane wrapped around to hit the second tower. I remember sitting in Soffe's class first hour and watching him sit on the table in the front of the room, Birkenstocked-feet dangling, crying. I remember not understanding how to feel or what impact this would really have on my 15-year-old high school world.

Bob and I were in New York last week and we went to the 9/11 memorial museum next to Ground Zero. If you're ever in the Big Apple, I would reccomend stopping by, it was an incredibly powerful place. They had giant beams from the towers, twisted like garbage bag ties from the heat and the pressure. There were cases full of things found at in the wreckage, like a menu from the bar on the top floor, two guns melted together, a laptop bag mostly intact from a floor above 100, and a battered fireman's helmet. What struck me the most, however, was a giant wall filled entirely with missing posters. All were handmade, with snapshots from some birthday party or recent vacation, and filled with details that betrayed the emotions of those searching. Answers to the nickname of Teddy; beautiful blue/green eyes; wearing a charcoal tailored pantsuit; if found please call one of these five numbers. It made me sick to my stomach and I stood there in an unfamiliar city standing next to the man I love, feeling the pain of the city, and wondering what it felt like to be there when it was in mourning.


As we left, Bob whispered to me, "After seeing all of this, I want to go bomb some terrorists." So did I, Bobby. So did I.

Killin' Whales

Watch out for the Killin' Whales, my fantasy football team this year. I expect them to succeed in ways never before dreamed of.

A Hero to One

On Monday, instead of laboring, Bob and I (+ The Sceech) travelled to the place where fun is.  (Hint: It's Lagoon.)  We drove in under a heavy cloud cover and as we jumped out of our cars, excitement prohibiting us (alright, mostly just me) from standing still; the rain started to fall.

Soon, rain was pouring down and we ran to Wicked to hit it before the lines got long.  We had no need to fear long lines, though, we waited moments before hopping on an available car and being jettisoned into oblivion, rain pelting us as we were flung about in the cold and wet.  We rode all the rides, and the best ones several times.

I knew that the weather was changing for the better as we rode one particular rollar coaster and as we reached the top, pointing towards the sky, the clouds parted and the sun shone down on all of us, creating a beautiful moment.  Never has the warm embrace of the sun felt so inviting, and I was regretful as we began our steep descent while Bob lifted up his hands and screamed.

Bobism: On a few rides, the rain was too strong to even keep our eyes open.  Bob described the situation aptly by screaming (while upside-down), "I now know how it feels for Hellen Keller to ride a roller coaster!"