Saying Good-bye to Cynthia

None of us could wrap our heads around the message that Cynthia Gerdes had lung cancer. Last year, this amazingly strong, outgoing and loving soul received this diagnosis. It didn't compute or make any sense to me, or any one else. Cynthia was a picture of health and fitness. An avid tennis player, runner, and triathlete, Cynthia was regarded by me and all of us in our local runner's group as a larger-than-life person. She had a strong voice... powerful laugh...and passion for life that set her apart from others.
I remember the first time I met her. She and I were on a school bus. Her son Kyle and my son Ethan are the same age, and about ten years ago, their class went on a field trip. We went as parent volunteers. We chatted on the bus and realized we both had a passion for running and riding bikes. We became friends.
Another memory that stands out is New Year's Day 2013. Eric, Cortney, Cynthia and I shook off a late night welcoming in the New Year with a run in the snow. (Cynthia is wearing the green vest.)

In addition to her athletic prowess, Cynthia was also very creative and intellectually curious. Every run was accompanied by some sort of wonderful conversation on any one of a hundred topics. She loved to learn and to share her knowledge and loving heart with others. Her work as a counselor in the Raytown School District demonstrated her caring nature and passion for helping others.

And if all of this was not enough to completely blow me away, Cynthia also loved music. Once, when my Mom and I were unable to attend one of our KC Symphony concerts, Cynthia and her forever man, Jan, were the first to respond to our call for free tickets. She and Jan also attended other musical events at the Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts and she always loved to tell me about them. (Both of the concert hall pictures here are taken from Cynthia's Facebook page.)

In early June, I spent about an hour with Cynthia at her parent's house. She was in hospice care at this point and no longer receiving any treatment for her cancer, She told me she was at peace, and hoped to be able to hold on at least another week so she could go to Wisconsin for her older son Aaron's wedding. She made it.

Shortly after she was diagnosed, I shared a prayer with Cynthia that I say every day...Every...Day....I hope it brought her some peace and strength during her final days.

"The Light of God surrounds me. The Love of God enfolds me. The Power of God protects me. The Presence of God watches over me. Wherever I am, God is."

I miss you good friend. We all miss you. Thank you for the love and spirit you shared with us while you were here. Though you left us way too soon, your spirit and love remains here in everyone you touched.

Henry Orient, Welcome to the Boomtown, Personal Space

Many years ago I saw a movie that I loved called The World of Henry Orient. I think I was 12 or 13 years old. The story follows two young teenagers who themselves are coming of age and have fallen under the spell of an eccentric, womanizing classical pianist named Henry Orient, played brilliantly by Peter Sellers. The real star of this movie, released in 1964, is the music. The soundtrack by Elmer Bernstein (no relation to Leonard) is wonderful. Elmer had a long and distinguished career as a composer, writing music for such films as The Great Escape, To Kill a Mockingbird, Ghost Busters, and The Magnificent Seven. I revisited this movie recently and feared it would feel dated, but it held up wonderfully well, in part due to the music. The film, directed by George Roy Hill, has many layers. The teenage angst of two young girls plays out against a backdrop of a changing time in America. Men and women cheating on each other, the old and new generations struggling to coexist, and the cultural landscape of the nation coming apart at the seams. The film captures a precarious balance of comedy and sadness...hope and despair. It's fun and bittersweet, and I confess that I had a crush on both Tippy Walker and Merrie Spaeth.

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Several years ago, I shared the story about my son Jack's blood clots, and my midnight drive from Kansas City to St. Louis to be with him in the hospital after he was taken to the emergency room. I don't remember many details about that drive, but the one thing I do clearly remember is listening to the song Welcome to the Boomtown by the songwriting duo David and David (David Baerwald and David Ricketts.) This song was released in 1986. I love this song. Lyrically and musically, I attached to it instantly when I first heard it. And on this cold, dark night driving across Missouri, it came back to me for some odd reason. I don't understand why...it has nothing to do with what I was facing at that moment. I think it may have reminded me how I felt when I was 21 and facing an uncertain future. Now, in 2016, my son was also facing a future that at that moment was very much uncertain.

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Spacial self-awareness is not an attribute many people seem to have mastered. How many times have you been in a public space...a restaurant, coffee shop, store, etc,etc..and someone is coming into the space that you currently occupy without seeming to have any awareness that you are already there? I see it very often at coffee shops. The coffee prep station is ground zero for this annoyance. Someone gets their coffee out of the urn, then stays there and spends what seems like an eternity pouring in milk, flavoring, then stirring, then adding more of something else....and all I want is to get to the urn to pour some coffee into my cup. Then they turn around and seem shocked that you are standing there. These people have no radar. They only sense themselves. There is plenty of room for them to move down a bit and let others get coffee instead of making them wait behind them. Or, while I am venting, how about people who come though a door that you are holding open for them, yet do not acknowledge your kind gesture, or offer any thanks? Like it was my job to do it. This just happened to me this week. I held the door open for a woman and her two children as they were coming into a restaurant. They all walked through the door and none of them said a word to me....like I was invisible. I said "You're welcome" in a very strong voice after they had passed by. I felt like a jerk for doing that, but it just came out. Where is our sense of thanks? Where is courtesy?

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