By the end of this entry, you won't think that I'm a very nice person

Unfortunately, it's sad but true. After last weekend's excitement, this week started off as being fairly run of the mill: field work on the South Branch Flint River by day, knit-in at Irene's and Mid-Michigan Knitter's Guild board meeting by night. Before I start with the truly depressing text, let me just say that this year's Guild program is going to be pretty cool with a good mix of demonstrations and workshops (yarn painting, weaving, mixing fibers, invisible ends, etc.). So, if you're in the Guild, definitely get ready for a fun-filled year!

Also, let me say that this week, I did happen to watch one movie ("An American Crime" -- disturbing, so don't watch around the kiddies), one disk's worth of Torchwood episodes, and attempted another movie but found that it wouldn't work in my DVD player and needed to go back to the store ("Goya's Ghosts"). I traded the bum disk in for a different copy and exchanged the Torchwood one for "The Scorpion King 2" (hoping to appease Chuck & Sylvain).

Okay, now on to why I'm a rotten person. I was in the field on Thursday, wrapping up my last bit of surveying on the South Branch Flint. This particular time, I happened to have my boss come along as an assistant. He used to do this type of work before moving into his current management position, and I think that he misses collecting field data from time to time. By noon, we were had everything we needed, so returned to the vehicle. My phone was beeping, letting me know that I had received a call, but I didn't think anything of it since Sylvain usually calls me when he gets done with football practice (usually around 11:30), so there was no rush to check it.

Once we had the equipment stowed away in the van, got our stinky waders off, and were ready to go, I check the phone. "4 missed calls" -- one from my brother Sam, two from Sylvain, and one from my cousin Evangeline; and only one voicemail message. Skipping past the voicemail, I called Sylvain first. All was well: besides being tired, he wanted to visit with friends. Okay.

Next, I listened to voicemail. It was Evangeline, and in her shaky voice, she managed to tell me that her father was found in his vehicle that morning and had suffered an apparent heart attack.

[ For those of you that don't know me very well (or at all, for that matter): my parents passed away when I was in my early teens. My brother and I were taken in by my Aunt Connie, Uncle Ray, and their 5 kids. For reasons I won't go into here, ever since moving away to the East Lansing area for college, I haven't kept in contact much with my family, mostly because I don't feel as though they ever really knew me that well and because the more I knew about each, the less I respect I had. Yes, that sounds judgmental, well that's because it is. Sad to say, but just based on the fact that you've found your way to my little blog and are actually reading it, you already know far more about me than any of them ever had.]

At any rate, I phoned my brother and he confirmed Evangeline's message, though there was some confusion as to why he was in his truck. He worked part-time as a rural mail carrier, so I just assumed that he must have been either on his way to work or while on his route. I later found out this morning that it is believed that he was attempting to drive himself to the hospital, must have suffered the heart attack while on the road, so drove right through a stop sign and into a small wetland area off of the other side of the street. A passers-by happened to see the truck among the cat-tails and phoned in 911. Now, if you're from the White Cloud area, and are familiar with any of the back-roads nearby, you know just how unlikely it is to have someone pass by in any sort of timeframe that is helpful if you were to become debilitated and stuck in a wetland. I'm not sure if anyone really knows how long he had been there.

But I can say, that has got to be one of the worst ways to go. What runs through one's mind at a moment like that? "Why didn't I call 911 from home?" "How the hell did I get stuck in this ditch?" "Dear God, can I even get out?!?" Well, the only thing that I can think of is that this is where canceling a land-line in favor of a cell phone doesn't help -- which is what my aunt and uncle decided to do; unfortunately for them, White Cloud is not known for its fabulous reception, and the cell phone of choice actually belonged to one of my cousins who still lived at home, and it's not clear to me whether she was aware of her father's condition or if the phone was anywhere that he could get to it...

So, I'm a truly rotten person because in this time of tragedy, I can't help but feel resentment. Why didn't he take better care of himself? (Lifelong beer-drinker, smoker since he was young, etc.). Weren't there any signs that he was a sick man? Why wasn't any of my cousins paying any attention to him? Sadly, it's my understanding that my uncle had let his life insurance lapse and there wasn't any sort of death protection on the house, so not only is the family pulling together (well, actually only 4 of us) to make sure the funeral is taken care of, but there seems to be uncertainty as to whether my aunt can stay in her house. She hasn't really been working since she's been staying in Ypsilanti to take care of her grandkids (won't get into that here either, so please don't ask), which in fact is where she was when my uncle was found.

So, my last question: of the 7 of us "kids", how come only 4 of us can seem to get our act together to help here? When talking to my brother, I can hear the distraught strain in his voice. Yes, he's sad and upset, but he's also not in a position where doling out the kind of cash needed isn't going to hurt him a bit. Hell, I'm not well off by any stretch of the imagination, and can see that this'll put a damper for a time to come. But neither of us feel as though this is something that we can turn our back on and not help with, no matter the sacrifice we'll have to make.

And my preachy moment of the night: my brother and I got into a mini-argument over life insurance. The reason my uncle dropped his was because his rate was going to be increased beyond reasonable affordability. Sam thought that this wasn't a fair practice; I don't think it's fair either, but if you're not going to pay it, at least take the money you used to set aside for it and put it into a bank account or something so that it's still accumulating somewhere useful. Apparently that wasn't done. I firmly believe that life insurance protects you and your family from the asshole that blows through a stop light and bifs your car. It doesn't protect you from yourself, and if you're out to drink (in excess that impacts your health), smoke, and not maintain any sort of exercise regime, paying a life insurance premium is basically useless. Okay, now that that's out, I can bite my tongue the rest of the weekend when I'm around my family and just be satisfied that my opinion has been voiced at least somewhere....