Bloodbuzz - Ohio

The blog title is from a relatively new popular song by the alternative band The National. The significance stems from the recent visit I made to Ohio. You see, while in Ohio, I stayed with my brother and sister in-law who I used to refer to as my half-brother and his wife. All that is different now.

The reason for my trip was what I'd been anticipating for several weeks. Last Friday, my father was institutionalized. He is in the throws of Alzheimer's as I stated several blogs ago. Hence, the reference to "several weeks." Get it?

A couple (less than "several") of weeks ago I received another early morning phone call from my father's wife Charlene. That would make her my step-mother, which is how I referred to her in past blogs. Now, when conversing with someone, I use the term "mother," the "step" part has been dropped. This whole new vernacular is very new to me, but it really isn't taking any getting used to at all.

I have referred to my step-mother by name for as long as I can remember, which would be the first day -night really- I met her. That would be forty-two years ago. For forty of those years Craig had always been my "half-brother." Since 2004, I called Tara, my half-brother's wife. Today she is my sister-in-law. These changes are permanent, and the transition has been effortless. How this transpired deserves an explanation.

When Charlene informed me of her decision, my initial reaction was I need to go to Ohio to be there when this happened; though I was unable to pinpoint the motivation for this sudden urge. I just knew I needed to be there. However, I thought I should run my intentions by Charlene first, lest she not want me there, so insecure of my familial status. I thought maybe I'd be imposing. I'd be in the way. My father would find my presence unsettling. Charlene would have enough on her mind, she didn't need me staying in her home. To allay these insecurities, I felt diplomacy was the proper way to proceed.I put the ball in Charlene's court. I would leave the decision for me to go up to her. She promptly hit the ball back.

I asked , "Do you want me to come out there?" That was harmless I thought. All she had to do was say yes and I'd be there. But she said, "Oh, I don't want you guys to have to spend the money." That's Charlene, selfless as always. She has never thought of herself first in any situation I'd been privy to. Disarmed, I responded with, "Do you think I should come, or do I just go with my heart?" "Go with your heart" she replied. Game, set and match Charlene Berstler. I then decided that I'd be going to Ohio to do whatever I was supposed to do, unclear about what that was.

Arrangements were made, one of them being where I was to be housed since staying at my father's was out under the circumstances. Craig and Tara stepped to the plate. Charlene told me they'd be glad to have me. I thought she was just being kind. I just couldn't picture two people who barely knew me thrilled to have me as a house guest for four days. This situation required me to contact my brother to firm things up.

Understand, my brother and I had not spoken in nearly two years, and prior to that exchange, another three years. Close is not the term that comes to mind when describing our relationship. However, every time we've seen each other no matter the lapses in time, it always struck me that it seemed as though I lived around the corner and we conversed on a regular basis. If I was feeling a little uneasy about interacting with my brother, Christ! the prospect of interacting with his wife brought to mind The Bounty mutineers landing at Pitcairn's Island.

Tara and I have exchanged Christmas cards for years. We spent about three hours together one Christmas six years ago. That's the entire foundation of which we have built our relationship. And now the poor woman is expected to make me feel comfortable and entertain me for an extended period. I thought, "Oh, this is going to be classic." And classic it was, but not in the context I just proposed.

Under the circumstances and in the frazzled state I had worked myself into, I left my cellphone in the car. I didn't realize it until I went through security at the airport. Ten years ago no one would have given a shit, after about ten minutes of discomfort neither did I. Everything would work out just the way it was supposed to.

Craig picked me up at Columbus airport. I was a little nervous, but I don't think it showed. Any remnant of being uncomfortable was left there on the curb as we drove away. The only palpable angst concerned the task surrounding our Dad. We chatted about what an ass I'd been for leaving behind my phone. As a matter of fact, it was one of our handful of standing jokes that lasted through my stay.

That night Craig, Tara, Drew -one of their two boys- and I went to see a minor league baseball game. After dinner, which Craig forbade me from paying for, we headed off to Huntington Park, home of the Columbus Clippers, the Triple A affiliate of the Cleveland Indians. The evening was a delight. Drew, who is eight, made a valiant effort for a home run ball, coming away with the stitch marks and bruise on his chest to prove it. In addition, he eventually got the ball itself, which, with the kindness of an usher, we got signed by the player who hit it.

There is much more to the story than that, but that would take a whole other blog. But I will say, what will be forever known as the "Home Run Ball Incident," dominated the early portion of our "porch time" conversation once we returned home.

Said "porch time" lasted until 2:30 in the morning. Most times I stayed up until that hour involved vomiting, this was quite the contrary. We spoke of many things that first night, our Dad being the centerpiece. We speculated on what all awaited us the following day. I found it odd that my time with Craig and Tara seemed like it was something we did regularly each week.

We shared shed tears, and more importantly shared much laughter. I shared my insecurities and they made me feel comfortable. I knew how much I cared for them that night after so many years' of nights without them.

I am not going to make this blog a downer. If you had, or know someone who has had to institutionalize a parent; well then, I don't need to go into the depressing details here. All I can say is that I knew without knowing, what my role was and why I was there. We leaned on each other while holding each other up with Charlene serving as the fulcrum. Her strength made each of us stronger. She is quite a woman.

Once our task was done, we tried to find an understanding of what transpired and how we all got there from here. I'm not going to say any of us were happy with the answers we found, but I will say just to discuss what was on our collective minds eased the burden of the different weights that were on each one. Charlene and I were to return the following day.

Friday morning Tara and I had bonded, as well as Drew and I. We spoke of our love of Tom Petty, going so far as to point out when one of his songs came on the radio. They play a lot of Tom Petty on Ohio radio, so much so, it took its place among our standing jokes. This one was a little special because it was Tara's and mine.

Each night there was good food, hearty laughter and a few tears. Craig's strange affinity for his private game of chicken with the fuel level of each vehicle he drives provided me with enough material for another blog as well. I could gush on and on about how every moment in their company was wonderful, but then I'd sound like a big pussy. So let me gush about the kids for a moment.

Drew and Gabe, ages eight and four respectively, were a delight. I'm not very fond of small children. As a matter of fact, the only other kids I liked this much at this age were my friend Gregg's two girls Carly and Jaime. To say Drew and Gabe are good kids does not do them justice in this world filled with horrible, obnoxious little shits. I was thrilled to be around them.

I know I've been a bit effusive here, but I can't help myself. I have family I always had but never had if you know what I mean. We got through this trial together and we'll face more of them together I'm sure of it. There's strength in numbers you know.

Besides the song title that's doubling as the blog title; a line from the song no longer fits..."And Ohio don't remember me." Maybe one time that was true, but not now. Those that reside there certainly will, I'm sure of it, and I won't forget them. That's why this blog is about them, 'cause I'm thinking of them right now.