Too Crazy

My daughter and second generation Dissident Daughter, Adeline, has always been active, mobile, energetic, and agile. 

In utero, on two separate occasions, both our nurse practitioner and busy, in-demand obstetrician paused during appointments with us and spent extra time just to marvel at how she would flip and turn in my womb and how her heart rate would fluctuate because of her antics.

She came rip roaring into the world in less than 24 minutes upon our arrival to the hospital leaving me no time for any pain reducing meds and sending the medical staff scrambling to even have a room ready for delivery. She was over a week late but when she was ready, she was ready!

At her one-day old appointment with the pediatrician in the hospital, the pediatrician remarked how she was stronger than some infants of a couple months old because she could control her upper body when being pulled up by her arms.

At six months old when I was helping LJ brush his teeth in the bathroom, we heard something similar to what it would sound like if there was fish flopping down our hallway and there was Adeline, putting together a combination of a fish flop, a roll, and an army crawl in order to move herself into the action.

At seven months she was easily pulling herself up to standing, at nine months she was walking and at eleven months she was near running. For those without kids or for those who may have forgotten, she hit these milestones well ahead of when she was “supposed” to.


This post is by no means a post just for me to brag about my daughter. While I DO think my daughter is special, I clearly understand that every child hits milestones at a different rate and it usually has no predictive value about how “successful” they will be later in life. 
Rather, this post is somewhat of a continuation from Kristen’s latest post entitled “Be a Goddamn Cheetah” where she talked about the many ways that the world sent her “taming” messages as a little girl. After writing that post, Kristen asked me if I had a recent example of trying to be tamed. While I had many, I explained to her that these days I was more cognizant of not trying to tame my own daughter and provided the following example:

As already mentioned, Adeline loves to MOVE. For Christmas this year we got the kids a joint gift – a popular item these days called The Nugget. It is basically a couch for kids that can be taken apart and utilized for whatever their imaginations desire with popular creations being a fort and a slide. LJ loves taking the top part off of The Nugget setting it up on our real couch on an angle so that he can then slide all the way from the top of our real couch to the living room floor. He could play this for hours….and so could Adeline.

The issue is that Adeline is so tiny that she starts at the top and flips all the way to the bottom. One time she went so fast that Larry and I thought she almost broke her neck. We started not allowing them to make a slide unless they were under close supervision. LJ couldn’t understand why so we tried to simplify it and started saying “because Adeline gets too crazy.”

The same goes for our king bed. LJ loves to play and roll on our bed while we are getting ready for the day. However, Adeline is still too young to understand where her body is in space and she would flip right off the edge of the bed if we let her on it unsupervised. So again, explaining to LJ why he can’t let Adeline on to the bed with him we simplified it and said “because she gets too crazy.”

Well, a couple of weeks ago, I was getting ready and LJ got onto our bed to play. I was in the other room getting ready and heard him tell Adeline that she could not get on the bed because “you ARE too crazy.” Though he transformed the words a little bit from us saying “she gets too crazy” to “you are too crazy,” I knew what LJ Was trying to do.  I knew that he did not mean any harm by it. He’s actually a rule follower and was just trying to keep her off the bed as we had asked. However, my heart skipped a beat and if I was a cartoon character, one would have seen a light bulb appear above my head. I thought aloud to myself, “I hope to God nobody EVER tells you that again in your life. You are not too crazy, little girl, nor do you get too crazy. You are a vibrant, active little girl who knows no fear, who knows no cage, and who knows no taming. I hope you stay crazy forever.” 

Though Larry and I started the “too crazy” thing to keep her safe, which IS our number one job as parents, it kind of morphed into something else when I heard someone else saying it to her. I already knew this, but was reminded again of how our words have meaning and how especially with kids we need to be intentional about the phrases we use them with them.

Adeline, I hope that you are always “too crazy.” Maybe you will be “crazy” like Dissident Daughter Amy who was crazy enough to run and qualify for the Boston Marathon. Maybe you will be “crazy” like Dissident Daughter Jill who is crazy enough almost every summer to go on a road trip across the US driving hours upon hours to spend time with her family and see the beauty of America. Maybe you will be “crazy” like Dissident Daughter Anne who was crazy enough to pursue her passion as a religion major even though she was told she would make no money doing it. Maybe you will be “crazy” like Dissident Daughter Kristen who was crazy enough to move to California without knowing anyone simply because she felt the mountains were calling her. And maybe you will be crazy like me – crazy enough to write this blog and to care about keeping other women “crazy” and untamed.

Ethical Engagement: Pandemic Version

I have been incredibly humbled several times the last couple of months during the pandemic. My hope is that all of you have been humbled as well, and regardless if you have, I encourage everyone to find ways to be humbled in the future and to engage in difficult discourse.

I’m going to be perfectly candid for a second. I consider myself to possess above average intelligence in terms of critical thinking and comprehension of multifaceted issues. Moreover, as someone who studies and practices theology as a professional career, I’m more than cognizant of the inherent complexity of the world in terms of ethical issues. My experience of the last couple of months, however, has been even more humbling than usual as I witness the profound moral ambiguity surrounding the decisions to address COVID-19.

I think what upsets me more than anything at the present is when people do NOT recognize that these decisions ARE laden with layers of complexity; decisions about reopening, combatting the virus, etc. have protracted implications that are far beyond anyone’s comprehension. Addressing the pandemic is NOT simply a “right” vs. “wrong” decision, just as many actual ethical dilemmas are not. And I have been humbled by the degree of nuance in this situation, and I hope that many others have- or will be- too.

This past weekend is a prime example. As many of us know, Iowa received permission to partially open restaurants, salons, and gyms at 50% capacity in its remaining 22 counties (including Polk/Dallas, which is the most heavily populated part of our state.) And this decision was met with significant CONTROVERSY. Some people were cheering for this decision, and other people were not. A number of my friends on Facebook were frustrated with this decision because they did not think it was safe enough to open due to the fact that we were not far enough past our peak. As a way of venting this frustration, they posted statuses from all of the restaurants in the area that were choosing to NOT comply with this loosened restriction; these restaurants would still be operating on a carryout/delivery basis only.

First, I want to validate that I LOVE that people care so much about people’s safety. In a world filled with mass consumerism and obsession over the almighty dollar, it’s incredible to see people value people’s health and lives as a top priority. However, my concern is that in pursuance of these values, people’s understanding of the situation misses several nuances and context that are ALSO vital in knowing how to make decisions that lead to human flourishing. (I know that I certainly am guilty of missing parts of the context!) And so, in the above example, the implicit assumption then seems to be this: “Restaurants that open for dine in are “bad.” Restaurants that remain closed for dine in are “good.” Whether or not individuals intend for this to be the message, it is certainly a justifiable interpretation based on the statuses presented. Posting statuses only from restaurants that are NOT opening- without any other context or words- seems to suggest that these are the restaurants we need to pay attention to and patronize because they are doing the “right” thing.

Nevertheless, the “right” decision is not usually so simple, nor is it easily mandated as the most “moral” decision to every single business across the city/state. Here are a couple of examples of how I was “humbled” as I learned just how complex the decision to reopen or not was for restaurants. One of my Facebook friends (who is also a small business owner), explained that for some restaurants, they might be sticking with carryout/delivery because it’s a better financial decision. Since restaurants have to maintain <50% capacity, they won’t be making as much money, and so it’s better for them economically to simply do carryout/delivery because then they don’t have to pay extra staff. So, what is driving restaurants decision to open vs. not open? I’m sure there are a VARIETY of factors, and they really DO care about the health and safety of their staff. However…let’s be honest, economics HAS to play into their decision in some capacity. It’s not fair to simply state that the restaurants “not opening” are MORE moral because they are staying closed for “health concerns.” Yes, like I said, that certainly could be part of their decision, but it might not be all of it. Dollars could definitely be a driving factor in their decision. And, if restaurants are smart, they are GOING to phrase it as a concern for public safety because it sells. #shrug Now, I’m definitely not blasting restaurants that do this right now- they simply need to earn an income and put food on the table like the rest of us. What I AM saying, however, is that it is a gross oversimplification to say that one restaurant is more “moral” than the other simply based on their decision to reopen or not because you don’t know the entire context.

Here’s another example. Dissident Daughter, Amy, is a regular at Drake Diner and knows the staff there pretty well. She informed me that Drake Diner’s situation is fairly fortunate with the pandemic because they have already paid off their mortgage. They’ve been a restaurant staple in Des Moines since 1987, so they don’t have a mortgage. Okay, if a business doesn’t have a mortgage, it is much easier to have some flexibility with your production and business model. You can afford to keep the business afloat and operate on a carryout/delivery basis for a much longer time than a new restaurant. If someone has just opened their restaurant in the last couple of years, they are in a much more precarious financial position. It is so incredibly challenging to pit these businesses against one another as “ethical/right” vs. “unethical/wrong” because their situations are so different. Maybe some are motivated only by profit for their decisions, and maybe some are not. It.Is.Complex.

There’s an argument that can –and has been- made that it doesn’t matter what the particulars are; businesses should not open, period. It does not matter if they are in danger of closing if they don’t open their dining room; the fact is that they simply should not open because it increases our exposure to one another. And, I guess, here’s my stance on this. If you don’t think that restaurants/businesses should be opening, that’s great. I love that you feel that strongly about people’s health and well-being and that you have a passionate opinion. However, a couple of things. 1) If you yourself have a job, you need to acknowledge that your opinion comes from a place of privilege. No, I’m not trying to shame you- we all possess privilege in different ways. I currently have my job (although I did experience an FTE reduction), so I’m personally in a place of privilege. But you DO need to acknowledge that the fact that you have a job and can pay your bills is PRIVILEGE. And so be careful when you make judgments about businesses and restaurants because you do not know what it is like to be desperate for income or to see your dream/future crumbling around you. 2) If you think that businesses should not open, again, that’s great. There’s certainly a strong ethical argument for that, and I myself could potentially be persuaded to believe it (Again, I don’t have firm opinion at the moment because I haven’t done enough research to be satisfied.) BUT, BUT, if you believe they should not open, then you sure as hell better be advocating for some sort of universal basic income or recurring monthly pandemic payments from Congress. And I don’t just mean that you should possess these beliefs- you should be acting and advocating for them. You should be calling representatives, encouraging others to do so, writing opinion pieces, lobbying for support, etc.  Because if people don’t have any other safety net, they honestly don’t have any other choice but TO OPEN. I don’t think it’s fair to judge someone for trying to put food on the table with the only means they have and then not support them in any other way.

We absolutely need to be having these conversations because the situation is so complex. Because here’s the other wrinkle in these ethical dilemmas; I also don’t think that we should unequivocally accept people’s decisions. That’s another trend that has been occurring on social media. People are starting to realize that the situation is complex (#progress) and variables are different for each individual and business, so now there’s a push to simply “accept” whatever decision the individual/business makes because they must know what’s best for them.

I also really struggle with this because individuals cannot possibly possess all of the world’s wisdom unto themselves themselves, and this “acceptance” philosophy reeks of 1) blind individualistic assumptions about epistemology; and 2) a lack of knowing how to engage in difficult conversations with one another. I, Anne Alesch, do NOT have all of the answers about how the hell to conduct my life. I WANT people to challenge me with alternative opinions and experiences. If someone simply accepts that I know what’s best for myself, how can I ever grow? How can I ever expand and diversify my wisdom? Like I mentioned, by most standards, I’m a fairly intelligent individual. And yet, if I did not have other people challenge or push me, I would have started wearing a mask probably a month later than I did. One of my good friends is a case manager for Taylor House, and she mailed me a mask very early in the pandemic. Not only did she kindly do this, she informed me of all of the reasons that I needed to wear it. (Like I said, this was very early in the pandemic- late March- before masks became so ubiquitous and the justification for wearing them so clear and prevalent.) And she was right- I didn’t want to wear a mask, but she convinced me otherwise. So I wore the damn mask way back in March because she helped me grow. What if my friend had simply said, “You do you, boo. You know yourself best”? I wouldn’t have worn a mask, and who knows what sort of germs I may have spewed in the month until I was forced to start wearing one. Surface level acceptance is NOT good enough; we have to be open to having difficult conversations with one another. (And before I sound like a pompous asshole, believe me, there are many times during the pandemic and other phases of my life where I have completely screwed this up. I’ve blown my mom and dad out about their beliefs without listening more times than I care to remember.)

And I think that this is where the tension lies; we seem to alternate from one extreme to another. First, we judge the hell out of each other and organizations for decisions and make blanket moral declarations about these determinations, but then we also go to the other extreme where we want to unequivocally accept any decision a person/organization makes because “they must know themselves best.” What is MISSING in both of these extremes is the ability to converse with one another as human beings. What is MISSING is our ability to articulate our context and stance, to be open to possible critiques, and to find ways to constructively challenge someone else’s decisions. Don’t get me wrong- it’s hard as hell. It’s hard as hell to have difficult conversations with one another, especially when the stakes are SO HIGH and when our emotions are running rampant from stress. It’s excruciatingly challenging to not get defensive with someone else’s words, and it’s also equally demanding to find a way to critique someone without being too judgmental and harsh. These conversations are difficult in the best of times, and during a pandemic, they can be downright debilitating.

But we HAVE to do them. We HAVE to practice them. We must practice being less defensive, we must practice compassionate tone and articulation when offering suggestions, and we must practice these discussions. It’s the only way that we will grow as individuals, and it’s the only way that we will grow in our ability to construct effective public policy. We have to listen to the diverse number of stories and ideas, and we have to fine tune them so that we attempt to alleviate the myriad of suffering people are experiencing with this pandemic.

Here’s one example of the benefits that occur from difficult conversations. As I briefly touched on earlier, the universal basic income has received more attention in recent months because of the vast unemployment rates across the country. Like most ideas, this one has its merits along with its drawbacks. Some of the drawbacks include the fact that it could cause inflation, it could decrease incentive to work, and it could reduce funding for other social services. Potentially legitimate critiques, right? Well, someone else fine-tuned the idea, and they said that maybe universal basic income shouldn’t always exist, but there should be “triggers” that set whether or not it is in action. For example, if the national unemployment rate was at a certain level, THEN it would be enacted. Or, like if a state had declared a state of emergency, then it would be enacted. 

I’m not saying that the final version of the idea is one that should be proposed or that it is free of flaws. I’m merely pointing out that we are in a world of hurt right now, and unless we are willing to have difficult conversations where we both LISTEN to someone else’s context and opinion AND are open to PROVIDING compassionate feedback, we are NOT going to be able to come up with creative solutions to minimize the suffering from the sickness, unemployment, isolation, etc.

Moreover, on a more personal level, unless we are willing to listen to each other and offer feedback, we are missing out on an opportunity to deepen our connections. If we judge without listening, or if we accept without conversing, then we are losing our ability to connect and engage on a intimate level. And this, my friends, means that we run the risk of only connecting on the surface level with one another. We hinder our ability to foster that intimacy and understanding that only come when you risk vulnerability with one another.

In summary, ethics are complicated. Don’t make blanket assumptions about someone or something’s morality without better understanding the context, and even then, have some humility. However, don’t also blindly accept decisions because we all need our perspectives challenged so that we can grow and enhance our worldview. Listen, engage, and advocate. Hear one another, provide feedback, and promote new creative solutions so that we can cultivate human flourishing.

Be a Goddamn Cheetah

Then she’d look back at the cage, the only home she’s every known. She’d look at the smiling zookeepers, the bored spectators, and her panting, bouncing, begging best friend, the Lab. She’d sigh and say, “I should be grateful. I have a good enough life here. It’s crazy to long for what doesn’t even exist.”

            I’d say:

Tabitha. You are not crazy.

You are a goddamn cheetah.- Excerpt from Glennon Doyle's book Untamed

The first memory I have of being “tamed” begins the summer of my 2^nd grade year. I grew up in a small town where the only thing to do on a hot summer day was to head to the pool to swim and then get a snow cone at Tropical Sno afterward. My best friend and I at the time would wake up super early and spend our days waiting until the clock hit 12:50 PM because that meant we could hop on our bikes and ride them to the Denison Aquatic Center just in time for the doors to open at 1:00 PM.

Prior to the pool season, I remember extensively debating with myself, as well as my best friend, as to whether or not I should get a two piece or a one piece swimsuit that summer. The little girl in me knew I would be more comfortable in a one piece, as I still had baby fat, and wasn’t sure if I was ready to expose that part of myself to the world yet, and yet, the unstill part of me wanted a two piece because even at age SEVEN that was the appropriate and cool thing to do as a girl. You can probably guess what part of myself I listened to, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this blogpost right now.

I ended up going with a two piece. The top landed a little above my belly button while the bottoms fell a couple inches shy of it. I was everything (insecure, uncomfortable, hungry, scared, annoyed) but confident in that swimsuit. I would spend an hour or so in front of the mirror in the swimsuit, prior to heading to the pool with my best friend, and just stare. I would pinch the fat on my stomach just to see how much I could grab and think thoughts like “Why can’t you have a smaller build? Why aren’t you skinnier? You shouldn’t be wearing this.”

I remember limiting my food intake specifically on pool days. If I was going to the pool, I wasn’t going to eat beforehand with the hopes that I may look a little skinnier at the pool. I also may want to be like a normal kid, and get a snack at the concession stand after swimming, so I wouldn’t want to “overdo” it beforehand. In case you’ve gotten engulfed in the story and need a reminder, I want to restate to everyone that I was SEVEN years old. At age SEVEN, I was already being told how I should look, what I should eat, what I should wear and how I should be. I was SEVEN experiencing firsthand society’s powerful encouragement of what was deemed sweet, normal, appropriate, cute, soft and tranquil for a little girl. I was listening to those voices. When I had barely just learned how to read, how to tie my shoes, how to ride a bike and other activities, I was being told that the body and brain that allowed me to excel at those activities were not quite enough.

Being “tamed” can be defined as making one less powerful or easier to control. As women, we spend our entire lives either forcing ourselves to live inside the cage which traps and suspends our possibilities and power, or we spend our entire life living outside of that cage to receive criticism and judgement for being “too bold, too direct, too wild, too daring, too much.” When we live outside of the cage, we often question whether or not what we’re doing is “normal,” and we often times might want to gravitate back towards that cage where it was extremely miserable and boring, but a little safer and a little more certain.

I’ve always been a pretty strong and bold woman from an outsider’s perspective, although I do have my insecurities (trust me). Needless to say, being “untamed” does not come without fear and questioning, and I am far from reaching a true state of wild. I am authentic and genuine, and yet the little voices in the back of my head always question whether or not I’m “womanly” enough or rather whether or not I’m “tame” enough. Similar to my seven year old swimsuit story, there have been several other instances in which society has “tamed” me and I have let them. I will name a few:

1)    Being told that I couldn’t try out for flag football in 6^th grade because it was a “boy’s sport”

2)    Being told that I couldn’t cut my hair short because it wasn’t a “girl’s hairstyle”

3)    Having sex with men after telling them “no” because it was just easier to succumb than to persist and hold firm a boundary

4)    Making myself consistently puke after every.single.meal for a solid year in college because I wanted to silence the physical and emotional hunger, yet didn’t want to experience the repercussions of eating “bad” food

5)    Being told I’m not girly enough because I prefer kicking a soccer ball to painting my nails

6)    Being asked if I’m a lesbian because I can cuss just as loud and shoot the shit just as well as the guys in the military

7)    Being told I was too sexual, yet not sexual enough, and shutting out the voice that encouraged the exploration of my sexuality

Those are just to name a few times society has “tamed” me. I am not sure that being “untamed” is a constant state, but rather a fluid one we are all working on and fighting to reach one day. A journey in which we listen to our inner voice and follow it so we can be true to ourselves and become the very best version of that true self. Some of us will never flirt with the idea of leaving our cage because we are too comfortable with what we know or too scared of the unknown. Others of us will leave the cage to return after a short period of time because we let the critics and skeptics take away our voice and power; the wild was fun for a while but the predators within the wild were just a little too much to handle. And a rare few of us, yet I wish it was all, will leave the cage, release our claws, run with our hair in the wind, our backs to the cage to never return, and to face the scary, overwhelming jungle where we were born to be. All of us were born to be cheetahs; let's be goddamn cheetahs.

Watch the Sunset Disappear...and Drink a Beer.

I’m happy to be back with the blog! I love this thing I share with my sisters and we do for ourselves. That said, I want to set expectations for my post today. This is not an insightful blog about the pandemic or what I’ve learned since COVID-19. There is not a wise, overarching purpose in this post. The purpose is that I need to write it…for myself and for someone I love.

One year ago, this week(end), I had the privilege of going to my dear friend Jeff’s celebration of life. And one year ago, on June 8, one of the most mirthful souls I’ve met departed from this world as I know it. I have kept a lot of it inside of me – death is weird. I know my sister, Anne, who is trained in grief and the grieving process, would say things much more eloquently and accurately. But it’s me writing this blog so I guess you’re going to get words like weird. Death is weird. It’s a lot of other things, too. Painful is one word that comes to mind. But it’s definitely weird.

I remember in November 2018, when Jeff told me he had stage four lung and spine cancer – HE was consoling ME. When I called him, I had no idea he was going to tell me he had stage four, metastasized cancer. I was right in the middle of a large pity party I’d thrown myself. I burst into tears and tried to ask “normal” questions and he consoled me. He told me he was moving back to the Des Moines area for treatment and that made me feel better – I’d get to see him more. I immediately texted my sister, Anne, because I knew I was probably fucking up handling death. Death is weird.

Because of Jeff’s diagnosis and move to Waukee, my RAGBRAI friend group got together a lot more (he was the heart and soul of our team). We all made it a priority to be present for Jeff and each other during those months. In a way, that experience gave us a lot more of each other. His diagnosis and death bonded a lot of people in ways that I don’t think would have happened if it weren’t for Jeff.

I guess I’ve been remiss in not telling you about Jeff…I don’t think I can adequately describe him in words. The first time I met Jeff was on RAGBRAI – at one of the towns we stopped in, one of our friends paid $20 at a bar for one of the bras hanging there – Jeff put it on with a pair of bunny ears and proceeded to pole dance (of course they had one in that small town bar) to LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It.” The entire bar – RAGBRAI riders and regulars alike, was laughing and smiling. Oh, I forgot to mention – he borrowed an unlit cigarette to have hanging out of his mouth for effect. And he definitely had the moves for that pole.

That’s one of my first memories of Jeff. Jeff could literally get an entire bar standing on their chairs, singing “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkel…this is how it went…on the part where they sing the chorus (“Lie la lie, lie la la lie lie lie, Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie) he had everyone clinking their drink at the end of ever “lie la lie”…listen to the song – you’ll know where the drinks clink (and have a drink and do a cheers – that’s what I’m doing right now). That was his personality – it was infectious, and he was so free to be, he let you free to be.

There are few people in life who I feel get to see or deserve to see your whole self – Jeff made me feel I could show and be that with him. Jeff also had opinions – sometimes outrageously hilarious and outrageously maddening opinions – and he was never shy about sharing them. I loved him for that. And he was kind. He would argue with you about politics or give you shit about being a vegetarian or a man-hater and the next minute he’d be fixing your bike tire or buying the entire bar a round of drinks.

That’s why his celebration of life took place in a huge hotel conference room, attended by people who went to grade school with him and people who had only met him a few years before. He made people feel a part of something and his energy was irresistible. I only got to know Jeff for four years and he had a lifechanging impact on me. The loss of his soul left an empty part of me, on my RAGBRAI team, on countless numbers of people who still post memories on Facebook, give blood, run, and commemorate him. I was on a bike ride this past Saturday and ran into friends – they had stopped where our RABRAI team spread some of Jeff’s ashes and found four four-leaf clovers. He is still present in so many of our lives. There are so many “Jeff stories”.

Death is weird. I have wanted to write this for a year, and I haven’t been able to – it’s still hard for me to speak about. Jeff was a doctor – and like I said, had outrageous opinions (sometimes only to shock and awe people). I catch myself wanting to hear what hilarious spin he would put on COVID-19…because that’s what he did. He was able to take a serious situation and get his friends laughing (or, on occasion, super pissed…lol). That’s what he did when he told me about his diagnosis…he took this blubbering lady and made her laugh. And he was the one who was sick.

Death is weird. There are times when suddenly I will be overcome by emotion thinking of him and tears will stream down my face…so unexpectedly that I have to analyze the moment and try to make sense of it. Death is weird – there is no making sense of it or how we react to it or when it hits us.

What I have been thinking about is that each person that touches us and touches other people – each person has their own story to tell about that person, their own experience. Even when the experiences are shared, we remember different parts, different things meant something to us, we needed different things, we gave different things, we received different things. And it’s so much to convey – we have to rely on a story here and a story there and it’s never adequate enough to express the impact and import a soul had on your life.

That’s why I’m writing this blog and why I said in the beginning there is no larger point, no objective to my post – other than to express heartbreak and remember a dear friend. Death is weird. It comes in an almost unbearable cloak of pain that doesn’t ever really leave. And it also leaves behind a trail of beauty and gratitude and love.

On the day Jeff died, on the kissing bridge (the green one near Principal Park, for those who know Des Moines), my partner and I took a moment at sunset. We played the following song by Luke Bryant while looking out over the beauty of Des Moines. This is how I feel when I think about Jeff. Thank you for reading – and being with me. I will never be able to truly convey Jeff or what he meant to me and the so many people he touched. So…let’s sit right here…and drink a beer.

“When I got the news today
I didn't know what to say.
So I just hung up the phone.
I took a walk to clear my head,
This is where the walking lead
Can't believe you're really gone
Don't feel like going home

So I'm gonna sit right here
On the edge of this pier
Watch the sunset disappear
And drink a beer

Funny how the good ones go
Too soon, but the good lord knows
The reasons why it gets
Sometimes the greater plan is kinda hard to understand
Right now it don't make sense
I can't make it all make sense

So I'm gonna sit right here
On the edge of this pier
Watch the sunset disappear
And drink a beer

So long my friend, until we meet again
I'll remember you
And all the times we used to
Sit right here on the edge of this pier
Watch the sunset disappear
And drink a beer
Drink a beer, drink a beer.”

So long my friend. Until I see you again – you will always be in my heart.