So, almost anyone who reads my blog posts knows that we suffered a tragic house fire on March 7, 2014.  The song that comes to mind is, God Bless the U.S.A.  “If tomorrow all the things were gone, I’d worked for all my life, and I had to start again as just a mother and a wife…”

Above is what our home looked like, probably in late September, 2012 or 13.  We built this house in the summer of 1992, and moved in on September 26th, following a week long honeymoon in England.  I remember we had minimal furniture, lots of space, and no kids….though there was a room upstairs just waiting for them.

In April of 1994 our family grew by one, when Christian arrived, and in 1996 we were complete, when Andrew came into the world.  We celebrated birthdays, chicken pox, ear infections, lost teeth, first days of school, Halloweens, and Music Fests, Christmases and Thanksgivings…First Hair cuts, first steps.

On March 6, 2014 the boys were 19 and 17.  One home from college and the other a senior in high school.  The house?Warm, and comfortable, like an over stuffed chair.  We had accumulated 22 years of life and memories.

The morning of March 7 dawned beautiful.  The sun was out.  Kerry had gone to work, and I had completed my office work, before heading north to coach a quartet. Andrew had gone to school on the bus, and Christian was still sleeping when I left.  Fast forward to 3:50 in the afternoon.  Kerry called.  Our house was on fire.  He couldn’t tell me how bad it was.  Christian could only tell me (when I called and started driving home) that it was bad.

March 7, 2014: 

And March 8, 2014:

I took lots of pictures and vented a fair bit on Facebook over the last 8 months….I will, through this blog, take you along on the journey….

Having worked in fast food for a year or so, I feel qualified to share my thoughts on a few things fast food related.

I worked for Burger King.  And I LOVED working the drive through window.  I had an open mike, a pretty decent speaking voice and I really enjoyed the interaction.  It became frustrating when it got so busy that the kitchen couldn’t keep up, but I had fun…

There were a couple of instances that were irritating…the kids that would walk up (sorry, can’t help you), or the kids that would argue that that the grocery cart they pushed up, with their friend in it, was NOT a vehicle.  Once there was an intoxicated driver, with an open bottle visible in the front seat…yeah, we called the police…

What I will never understand is this:  I know the fast food drive thru window is timed.  From the time you place your order to the time you drive away with your food.  What I don’t understand is the inability to receive an order, fill it, give back the correct change and the correct order, in a timely fashion…..

This ever happen to you?

“Yes, I would like a Whopper Jr with cheese, no ketchup, small fries and a small diet coke.”  Pull up to the window and they ask you again what you had.  Huh?  Didn’t I just tell you?  Isn’t it on your screen?  Why do I have to order twice?  They take your card or your money…and you have to wait for the receipt and change.  They pass you the drink (with soda spilled all over the outside, so you have to ask for napkins and your straw.  Then they pass you the bag…

Now, I am driving, remember, so I pull away, and head wherever it is I am going (often a longish drive to a meeting, a rehearsal, to visit someone…), so I don’t open the bag right away….Once I DO open the bag, the fries are spilled all over the bag, and they are cold.  I HATE cold French fries….but I eat them…I’m hungry…and NO they aren’t cold because I waited too long…they are cold because they were sitting under the heat lamp and there were no new, hot fries ready.

I save the beverage, and tackle the burger…I order them without ketchup because ketchup make a mess if it drips…Guess what?  Not only is there ketchup, it is on the wrapper, and dripping out one side…so not only does it drip on the only clean shirt I have with me (the one I have on), it on my seatbelt and my hand…and now the steering wheel.

Finish the burger, and use the single napkin they threw in the bag to clean up a little…and take a sip of ice, cold soda.  Regular coke.  I ordered DIET coke because I LIKE the TASTE better…And it’s REGULAR coke?  I know…I should eat healthy before I leave and bring bottle water or soda with me…

Only ONCE have I ever driven back around to demand hot fries….

How bout this one….You pull up to Dunkin Donuts.  I LOVE the salted caramel hot chocolate….I order and extra large with 4 or 5 ice cubes.  They WRITE it on the cup…You drive away and open it, only to burn your tongue, the roof of your mouth and the gums around your back teeth.  Your esophagus is now on fire and you wonder how many internal organs are now par-broiled?  How difficult is it to throw the ice in the hot, molten, liquid?

Fast Food….slow down and get it right.

Did you know I wrote a book?  One of my blogs is from that book.  The book evolved over MANY years.  My mom had passed away in 1988.  In the fall of 1988, I went back to school.  Part time.  As a new student, I was required to take a creative writing class, and math.  I remember having a history class and an accounting class at some point too, but it was the creative writing class that got me started.  And I took three semesters of creative writing, and ditched the math.

I wrote a few storied for that class, and then I kept writing as the mood struck.  In 2006, I was determined I was going to publish what I wrote.  I found an online publishing site and self published “Photo Synthesis”.  Due to the editing process, and the significance of my 45th birthday in 2007, I published the book on June 1st, 2007.  I was 45.  The same age that my mother was when she passed away.  I purchased 20 hardcover copies and gave them to friends.  On July 3rd of 2007, on his 67th birthday, my dad had surgery for lung cancer.  He would live for 5 more months.  I never shared the book with him.

I have a lot more to say, but wanted to share the book with you (it’s a free download) and the pictures (all black and white except for the jacket) will look better on the computer screen.

Yes, I have a lot more to express.  When you drive an hour every day just to think out loud, how could you not have more to say!

http://www.lulu.com/shop/denise-ane-dyer/photo-synthesis/ebook/product-17438482.html

Did I tell you it;’s free?  Enjoy.

I would have called this “Secret Addictions” but if I share them here, they are no longer secret.  Sure I have my food additions (you know, the food you cannot have in your house or you eat it all in one sitting), and I have my TV shows, or my music…but there is one compulsion that I go to when I need comfort, or some thinking time….time alone, or a change of scenery…

My addiction comes in 44 mile dosages.  Often I bring my camera and satisfy another addition.  It’s funny too, because I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 18, and then only because my sister (17 months younger) got hers first and I couldn’t stand the thought of her using mom or dad’s car, and not having to share….I hated driving, but got over that.  Driving is my therapy.

I bought my camera before I bought a car.  Once I had the car, I drove.  I drove to specifically go take pictures.  I had a dog (a golden retriever named “Otis”) and a vehicle, a job (gas $$ and car payment), and loved spending time in my car…

When our boys were little, I would drive us around the lake to get them to fall asleep.  Sometimes I would drive through North Conway, New Hampshire.  Other days we would drive to Falmouth so they could play on the maze craze, or walk around MacWorth Island.  I love driving so much, I taught driver’s education for three years.

Driver’s Education Instructor was probably my most favorite job EVER.  A part of me was curious to know if I could relate to kids who were the same ages as mine….Part of me was curious to know if I did indeed, miss my calling as a teacher, and part of me looked forward to exploring the back roads of Maine, all year round.  I found the greatest spot for birch trees, Halloween decorations, lakeside pictures, a corn field and church….I also found a part of myself that I had missed…While exploring the back roads of Maine, I could also explore my thoughts…Always aware…even keenly aware, of my students and where we were, I also became more aware of my thought processes.

I am reminded of Andy Rooney, of 60 Minutes.  He had a segment every week which he started with: “Did you ever notice…”  I began to notice.  And in March of 2014, driving became my life line.  If I am not driving to work, or chorus/quartet rehearsal, I will go for my drive around the lake.  It clears my head.  It brings me focus.  I can, and do, talk to myself right out loud.  I have written speeches, memorized speeches, written talks for church, and explored thoughts and ideas and done what I could to discover not only what I feel, but why.  I now travel with my camera, and my tape recorder.

44 Miles a Day (rain or shine)

3.12 a gallon for gas

1 Hour ever morning

That is MY recipe for stable, mental health

Course, Can, Can’t, Courage…Change.  Cancer was a silent intruder. The other “C” word. We had heard of it. Even knew a few people who had battled it, but we did not know it up close and personal. It still crept in like a thief in the night. And it took away more than we knew.

The news wasn’t good that day. And I remembered very little of what the doctor said afterwards.

I remember our optimism on the way home, and thinking the diagnosis was absurd. The doctor wasn’t all that hopeful. In fact, he was fairly discouraging, but that fell on deaf…and reeling ears. I remember the drive home. The trees were beautiful. A new season was upon us…Change.

That was the day we got on the ride. Oh, yeah. Cancer is like that. I call it the roller coaster. There were lots of highs, lows, ups and downs and twisty, winding turns, all the while we held on for dear life. Sometimes with eyes closed…sometimes holding our breath. We didn’t volunteer to get on the ride, and none of us knew in the beginning, when or how we would ever get off. In many ways we are still on it.

Mom was 43 years old when her Breast Cancer was diagnosed. She was a smoker for as long as she could remember. We saw a side of Dad that we had never seen before.  He was amazing. The radical mastectomy was scheduled for the week before the Superbowl in 1986. It was the Patriots vs. The Bears. Mom’s surgery went well, and she was very optimistic. Heck, we all were. We didn’t know any better. Can.

Of course, the Superbowl went on like nothing happened. Life is like that. Ready or not, life goes on and the world keeps on spinning. We had some friends over, and we ate, and watched the Patriots lose to the Bears in a huge blowout. Perhaps it was an omen…but more likely than not, the Bears were awesome and the Patriots were just lucky to be in the game.  But Mom was right there cheering, and eating and doing her exercises…working at regaining the use of her arm.  The surgery was brutal.  She showed us the scar.

Mom did the prescribed chemotherapy and radiation for the degree of cancer that they had found. She had it, the chemo, for several weeks. She lost her hair, and she lost weight. She was tiny to begin with. She worked at K-Mart and never lost hope. She wore wigs to work, and bandanas around the house. She managed to keep her Lucille Ball-like sense of humor. Discouragement was not a part or our collective family personality…Courage.

It was early September of 1986, her hair had grown back and she was in remission. She was still working. She had gained weight. That was huge for her. She looked good, and felt better. We were still on the ride, and what a view from up there. The cancer was gone…for now.

I don’t remember when it came back. I think it was September, again. 1987. I remember they found a spot, in a check up, in her lungs. Yes, she still smoked. So did Dad…and my younger brother. We rode the highs, and the lows, expecting that there would be a happy ending…Always hoping.

She went back on the chemotherapy. When the prescribed dosages were not able to retard the cancer growth, she had to have a permanent valve inserted. Chemotherapy would run from a drip, 12 hours on, 12 hours off. It was aggressive. We learned more about it than we ever wanted to know. It was painful. She could barely eat. Tomato soup hurt to swallow. She had an oxygen tank at home, and still she smoked. We had to help her walk. Dad and I slept in shifts, he worked nights, and I worked days. We made sure she was never home alone. It was nearly the darkest part of the ride. I say nearly, because in December of 1987, just when we thought the ride could sink no lower, it took another dip…Can’t.

Mom went into the hospital just before Christmas. Debbie and I did the Christmas shopping. I did Christmas baking for the neighbors.

And Mom was fighting that ugly “C”-word still. This time, it was in her brain. And she knew it. Her older brother, Duane, had passed away five years earlier, with a brain tumor. I think, at that point, she resigned herself to the fact that hers was a battle she could not win…Cancer.

She came home for Christmas. It was probably the best one we ever had as a family. Mom was now the child. Since she hadn’t done any shopping, it was all a surprise to her. She went downhill quickly following the holiday, and passed away on January 14, 1988. She was 45, I was 25. My sister was 24 and my brother was 21. Dad was 47 and when he lost her, we started losing him.

Cancer hides. It’s like that. It hides behind other common symptoms…a cough…unexplained pain anywhere, and sometimes it doesn’t show itself until it’s too late to catch. Cancer is what it is…Angry? You betcha! Alarmed? Perhaps…Panicked? No.…But it never goes away…or rather the shadow of the possibility doesn’t….Ever.

You never know how strong you can be, until you are tested.  Often these tests are nothing for which one can study.  In fact, there are no make-up quizzes or grading on a scale.  Often they are simply pass/fail and homework is key.  If one was religious, they might think the test was open book, with scriptures to search for answers….or they might seek answers through prayer.  But faith would be necessary to use those tools.  There was no study guide, or counseling, or coaching that could have prepared me, at 23 for the first test in my life where someone else’s life was hanging in the balance.

We grew up in an idyllic place and time.  Our parents were young when they started their family.  Young enough that dad would come home and play ball with us in the front yard.  Mom would sew and cook, and was home to get us on and off the bus when school took up a part of our day.  In the summers she would take us to the beach, to friend’s houses…and our neighborhood…

I don’t remember how we all found out about each other…probably the way kids have of making friends…naturally.  There was Rodney up around the corner…we didn’t know him as well because he was a bit further away….Jay, Lynn and Pam up the street, Heidi, Eric and Lief, then us (Denise, Debbie and Dennis), then Ellen, Joyce, Larry and Sally.  I remember Jonathan and he had Priscilla and Susan (I think) as sisters.  They were older.  There was Thaiylie (older) and her brothers Anders and Eric, then down around the corner was Jimmy and Tommy, then Donna and Joe, then Mike and Cathy….We knew the  kids on the next streets over in either direction.

Jimmy was killed in a car accident while on a family vacation when he was 10 years old.  I was 9.  He and I, in our childhood world, were already planning to get married.  But like the rest of the kids in the neighborhood, we were astonished at how difficult his death was for our parents.  We moved on.  We met other kids in school, and we were growing up and apart.  It was difficult to understand that as we were of different ages, it was natural for us to migrate to the kids we met in school who were in the same grades.  So we drifted.  And began to develop ourselves…

In September of 1985, I was 23. My sister and I still lived at home, and my brother had moved out.  We had survived the teenaged years and were not ashamed to admit that our parents were our friends.  Albeit, these were new relationships for all of us, but we liked each other and it was a start.

I remember very little.  It was September.  It had to be late September, but I forget the date.  The leaves had started to change.  It was a beautiful sunny day.  I went to the Doctor’s with my mom.  All I knew was that she had found a lump, they did some tests and we were going to his office to learn the results.  His name was Dr. McAffe and he said, “I’m sorry,” to my mom.  “You have stage 4 breast cancer.”

September 23, 1961