It’s one of the few items from “just,” my first poetry collection, which I’ve published so far on this site. Though it touches many nerves for me, and hints at the place and station I’ve come from, somehow it feels good to expose it to the sunshine and fresh air which make up my life at present, with loved ones, friends and comrades many and strong. There was a time, not long ago, when things weren’t looking so good. Even then, the sense of better things to come was bright and clear.

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Aunt Honey, thank you for your gift of pure love throughout every day of my life. You will be missed!

Helen Ridings
COTTAGE HILLS – April 13, 2010 4:40 PM – Helen Marie Ridings, 84, died at 1:50 a.m. Tuesday, April 13, 2010, at Saint Anthony’s Hospital in Alton. Born May 10, 1925, in Carlinville, she was the daughter of William Howard and Marie B. (Loges) Casey. She was an operator for Olin Corporation for 43 years before retiring in 1987. She was a lifetime member of the Westerner Club.

Surviving are a daughter, Debra Barrett of Hartford; two grandchildren, Scott L. (Julie) Barrett and Stacey Barrett Adams; and three great-grandchildren, twins, Nicholas and David Barrett, and Ryan Adams. Preceding her in death were her parents, a great-grandchild, Megan Elizabeth Whitehead, and a sister, Bernice Henrichs. Burial will be at Rose Lawn Memory Gardens in Bethalto.

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Wednesday, May 30, 2001: The Countdown Begins

As I sat at my desk at the end of the business day (night) on Tuesday, I knew I really needed to get some sleep to be ready to start loading the truck bright and early the next morning; surveying my office, though — still largely intact — it finally also sunk-in to me that I needed to get it packed, once and for all. Fast forward to 7:30 a.m. Wednesday morning: I’d worked all the way through the night, the office was 98% done, the house was a scattered array of semi-packed boxes, furniture and closed boxes, all ready for the truck, and we were off to pick up the truck from Budget in Van Nuys on Sepulveda Blvd., the same place where we’d returned our truck from the 1998 move West. This truck was a little bigger — a sign that the move was a success? — and the car carrier, destined to transport our Honda Accord back across the country, may have been the same one we picked up from New Orleans on the previous trip. Beth had slept very little as well, so the recollection of truck-packing day is a little blurry. We were smart enough to request a couple of movers to come to our house at 9 to load the truck, and by 11, they were done. By 5 p.m., much of the “little stuff” was handled, I’d napped for a couple of hours, and we were starting to visualize the arrival of my “volunteer truck-driver” father at the Burbank airport the next morning at 10:30 and our subsequent departure, which we’d been planning for over six months….

A little side-note here for those of you who haven’t heard from us in a while. There’s a much longer, more detailed and drawn-out story here that will await you upon your first visit to our new home in the mountains of Boone, North Carolina… but essentially, we decided to buy a home Beth’s mom and step-father were planning to build in Boone (anticipating getting pregnant in the not-too-distant future), then we got pregnant (not to worry — the above-mentioned ‘drawn-out story’ focuses very little on this part), and now we’re moving to Boone to stay in another of Ginny and Bill’s Boone “castles” beside Rocky Creek until our new home is ready. To answer the obvious question, we had a fantastic time in Los Angeles and accomplished so much more than we could have hoped for… but this opportunity to own a wonderful home in an amazingly beautiful place — and, more importantly, to have our little one growing up with cousins (including our God-children Grace and Claire), aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. — was too fanastic to miss.

What at first seemed like a glimmer of a neat idea became our goal and now, it would appear, our ‘next adventure,’ and we are suitably thrilled.

With that said, though, we leave behind many very dear true friends that made our California Dream something we’ll always treasure… and the only way we can cope with the sadness of saying goodbye to them is to hope and trust we’ll all find ourselves together again as part of our new adventures.

), we were happy to receive the call from my dad that he’d caught the flight out a day early, and he was just a couple of hours from Burbank. Beth did some final clean-up on the house as I grabbed Dad from the airport. Though it was a little late his time, I decided to tour him through Coldwater Canyon up to Mulholland so he could see the view of the valley; unfortunately, the only thing to be viewed there on this evening was the inside of a fog cloud. We found our way back down Woodcliff, through Sherman Oaks and to our now virtually spotless little house, which the landlord had already been showing and offering at a rate ($2800 p/mo!) that was almost twice as much as we’d been renting it for over the past two years. As much as he seemed impressed with the place, the price-tag really got dad’s head shaking in disbelief.

Finally, Dad slipped to his room and his awaiting air mattress, and we found our way to our own air mattress in our room for our last night’s sleep. So many great things had happened for us in the past three and a half years, and we’d enjoyed so many great visits with our friends over the previous weeks, we were reeling with emotions and something of a numb, over-tired, excited anticipation. And what of the cats? It’d been an exciting, un-nerving couple of days for them, too, what with all the boxes and handtrucks, etc. Callie had spent the day in the closet buried under a couple of towels, seemingly certain that the end of the world was at hand. Maggie’s eyes couldn’t have been any more wide open, and even as we fell asleep, she continued her survey of the empty house… as well as her noisy, troubled, in-our-faces reports of her findings throughout the night. As we awoke at around 5:15 and considered slipping out from the warm covers into the chilly morning, Beth found a way to trick Maggie into being quiet for just a little while longer… but that’s tomorrow’s story.

More to come soon. Our best to all of you!

Love — Roger, Beth, cats, Amelia-to-be

PS: Digital pictures coming at journey’s end — so long as the box containing that one special cable can actually be located! — R

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How to Change Neighborhoods in Only Five Days

by Roger Darnell

Day One: Thursday, January 1, 1998: “Flaming in Florida”

We managed to get on the road pretty early, knowing that our goal was to travel 500 miles during the day, which would carry us to Mobile, Alabama, by day’s end. We’d stayed at my mom’s for our last night, the fitting place to begin a long journey, considering how many we’d begun from her mother’s over the years, pulling out so early in the morning it was nearly impossible to see the sad granny, waving her Kleenex in one hand from inside the window, tooting the signature honk as we went. So, without further adieu, we played the honk for my mom on the 15′ Budget truck containing all our stuff, and we pulled away from her cozy little place, watching her wave good-bye over our towed Accord in the rear-view mirrors. After so much preparation and so many sad partings, we were on the road, pursuing our “mission” (in the words of a friend from Houston, Tommy Ewasko) of relocating to Hollywood.

The world most certainly looked brand new as we rolled up the Florida Turnpike we’d traveled so often on our trips, the first or last three-hour leg of each trip northward. With plenty of room to ramp-up, the truck made 65 fairly easily, but lost 15mph on even the subtlest of hills. In north central Florida, we connected with I-10, perhaps 90 or 100 miles west of its eastern termination in Jacksonville. We headed West, which we’ll do all the way to the other end of the 2,600 mile interstate.

The trip meter rolled past 200 miles and I checked the rear-view mirrors; unless I was mistaken, blue-purple smoke was pouring from the left wheels of our car carrier. The question answered itself as I watched flames appear from the wheel well and start shooting out the side. I hit the brakes and started working the vehicle over onto the median as Beth asked, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“Well,” I started to answer, trying not to alarm her, “the trailer’s on fire.” By the time I got the load stopped, the flames had gone out. We climbed out and walked back to inspect the trailer, and that left rear wheel was hot, hot, hot. As we stood looking at it, it caught fire again and the flames shot out dramatically.

“Oh-my-god!” Beth yelled as I ran back to the cab for the fire extinguisher. Again, the flames went out, but not before we both imagined the disaster playing out with our kitties in the carrier. Well, it seemed to be cooling off but out of service, so we carefully off-loaded the car and, in language all Trekkies will appreciate, we launched ourselves in the “Accord” shuttle and called in the repair.

Two hours later, the repair man confirmed that the trailer wasn’t going anywhere and offered to take it in for us. Beth helmed the launch and I climbed back behind the truck wheel and we were off. Before the flame-out we’d been discussing visiting Beth’s sister Ann and her husband Chuck in Tallahassee, so we followed-through and paid them a brief visit at their home. Once back on the road, as we realized when we compared notes later that night, it had felt like our last outpost. We wouldn’t know until the next day how comfortable we’d be made to feel in Houston. We drove and stopped, figured and planned, and made our way to Pensacola for the night. In the hotel room, we were too exhausted for showers that night. The kitties found a nook under the bed and we fell asleep quickly.

© Copyright 1998 Roger K. Darnell. All rights reserved.

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Circa 1985, Roger, Maxine and Bud.

I learned today of the passing of my Aunt Maxine Ridings.  Talking about her with my mom this evening, one of the things that came up was how she has just always been part of our family, forever.  Also, for her nieces and nephews, I think we all always knew that we would get her smile, her wry sense of humor, and her easy laughter, each time we saw her.  She seemed to laugh as easily as she breathed… and for my Uncle Bud, whom we all respect and love dearly, she has been the perfect match.  Our thoughts go out to Uncle Bud, and to Dena, Janie and Keith, Bill, Marilyn, Blair and Josh. 

I wrote the following poem 21 years ago, at a time when “home” had a very special meaning to me… implying certain places in and around Greenville, Illinois, security, and many specific people in my family.  Aunt Max was certainly part of the family that I carried with me everywhere I went, that was constant, loving, and an inseparable part of my self-identity.  Of late, her health had taken a turn for the worse, and so it seems mostly a blessing that she is now at peace.  She will be missed; she was a great lady in my life, and in the lives of many other people I love.  We will remember her laugh and her smile always…. 

Aunt Max, thank you for your love, and for helping to make me who I am.

The Different Drummer
by Roger Darnell

I don’t know why I had to go
Back home in summer’s early glow…
But in my feeble state of mind
I felt a loss I had to find.

The great escape some said I made—
And true:  to sense the solemn shade
Of home, and leave the world behind
Which made me cold and scared and blind.

In all pursuits I pushed myself
Beyond the pack that somehow shelve
Their hopes and dreams for social norm
And fear the lonesome, ruthless storm.

In battle-youth, I made my way
Through acid rain of dream decay,
And while the storm’s calm eye drew near
My bravery was turned to fear.

With summoned strength I fled the storm
And limped in semi-shattered form
Toward the place where life began
To find The Answer to The Man.

I found the place I’ve always known:
Aunts, uncles, grandmas, cousins grown,
The trees that fell that I know well,
Whose echoes clang a rusty bell.

The native country took me in—
It mattered not where I had been;
It saw me as I was, and still
Gave praise for all my vital will.

I rested there, and took my time.
I slept amid the dew-cool thyme.
Serene, I saw what life could be…
Then spread my wings and flew off, free.

I don’t know just what made me go
Back home in summer’s early glow…
But on the heartfelt, wholesome track
I found my strength and brought it back.

…

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