Life

In Memoriam

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 4 Comments

Thank you all for coming. The support and love in this room will sustain myself, our children, and hopefully his family through this difficult, dark, and unfathomably painful time.

 

On September 24, 1996, my world was forever changed. It was a Tuesday night and I was working the front of the house at Cold Spring Tavern (where I had worked since I moved to Santa Barbara in 1992). This tall, trying to be cool, guy walks up–he’d been having dinner and drinks with a group of guys. He says hi and asks me if I wanted to get a drink after work. He was already a drink or two ahead of me. I said “No. I can’t. I have a paper to write.” He smiles back–oh that grin of his–”you can write your paper at my house.” Like what a cheesy line. I said “No” because there really wasn’t any other answer. We continued back and forth a bit as I was not completely convinced that he was the kind of guy who would have had a computer at home in 1996. Oh how he changed so many of my assumptions.

I told him, why don’t you come back tomorrow night. Wednesdays were a favorite night w/live music by the Cache Valley Drifters, a local blue grass band, and dinner. The night wore on and I waited on tables and served drinks and then I saw him. I was so surprised that he came. So shocked. I rushed to find his roommate and best friend because I couldn’t remember his name–that is how sure I was he wasn’t coming. We use to laugh at that story, because he often shared that he came every Wednesday with Jeff and other friends, just to try to get my attention. And I had no idea and never really noticed him.

He walks up to the bar and we chat, the evening was almost over. The band starts to play The Lighthouse, one of my favorite Cache Valley Drifter songs–even before this day. As the songs play, he reaches over the bar and just grabs my hand.

That single gesture changed the course of my life. I knew at that moment, I would marry him.

Not to say the early development of our relationship was easy, but we both knew (and sometimes fought) the undeniable connection we had. After that night, I rarely went more than a day or two without seeing and spending time with him.

Our love grew naturally and slowly. We really were friends first. He used to ask me all the time “We’re still friends right?” That we were friends mattered more to him than anything else. And he was my best friend. He was everything. He will always be my everything. It is rare that you can spend nearly 25 years with someone and have only good memories. I can’t recall an actual fight we had. Not that we didn’t disagree–you can’t spend significant time with Bill and not have a disagreement or two. He loved conversation. He loved being the Devil’s Advocate. He loved to spark a response. But he never had or exhibited any anger in our relationship. Our marriage was as perfect as it could have been. We were so perfectly suited for each other. We were a perfect ying and yang.

Those of us who have spent a significant amount of time with Bill, have Bill stories. I can’t even find the right words to describe him and I can’t tell many of the stories here. He was larger than life in so many ways. He just lived. He lived to the fullest. Doing something was more important than planning and waiting to do it the “right” way. He was generous and kind and loving.

He loved a good challenge and a good bet. And he was a horrible gambler. The guys would always joke (but seriously) about betting against Finner (his college nick-name that is still who he is to so many). He was good at so many things (almost everything)–but picking the winning football team was not one of those things. But he loved the challenge. He loved the camaraderie. Football Sundays up on the mountain in Santa Barbara were such special moments to him.

He was apt to on more than on occasion when out with friends to challenge the other husbands/guys to flip for the Bill. He would have picked up every dinner tab if I hadn’t have stopped him. That was just who he was. He wasn’t about things. He was about people and that can be a rare find.

Some of our greatest memories and his own were created on the water. He loved the water. One of our first “dates” was going kayaking. We get in and paddle quite a bit off shore and it’s a bit choppy and he looks at me and says “You can swim right?” I just remember thinking, shouldn’t he have asked me that sooner? I joked “No, do I need to know how?” He stared at me and I responded “Of course I know how to swim. Who comes out in the ocean and doesn’t know how?” He always said it was a test and that he knew we couldn’t be together if I was dumb enough to go out in the water w/out knowing how to swim. But, really I’m pretty sure he just forgot to ask.

He loved sailing with his buddies. He never stopped talking about those moments. His propensity to keep the crew of buddies paying attention with is “man overboard” trainings. Where he would just jump off the boat mid channel and assume his friends would turn the boat around and come get him. I was lucky to get to see him in that environment on 2 sailing trips to the channel islands. He was so at home and felt so free to be himself in those moments. Those moments and memories and every good memory–will sustain me.

When we think of Bill we also have to think about golf. He loved the challenge of it. He loved pushing himself to get better. He loved beating his own previous scores and other people. And again he loved a good bet. Bill had his moments of cockiness and sometimes the arrogance of someone that comes to most things easily, so he challenged my brother Jeff to a round of golf. Bill bet he could beat him w/just his 7 iron. And he did. He was better at golf than picking the right football team. When he was winning–he was fun. He was not always a gracious loser. I believe during one round w/my brother he was accused of being a “fun-sponge.” But that was Bill he was all-in. Whether he was happy and winning or irritated and losing.

To see him as a father is my greatest joy. He was a rock when we went to Ethiopia to bring Noah home and Noah was sick and I was a mess. He was strong and he was so caring. He was everything. And when Zoe came home his heart grew even more and his softer side became way more soft. Dads and their little girls. To see him with his kids was pure joy and happiness. I could not have asked for a better father for them. He loved to be silly–he was still such a kid himself. We always joke that he was really just 12. The laughter he created in our house and lives will live on in our memories forever. I am not nearly as funny as he is, but our kids are every bit as funny as he was–what a gift.

I will spend the rest of my life talking about and remembering this awesome man I was lucky enough to have 24 years knowing and loving. He supported me through a bachelor’s degree, a teaching certificate, a master’s degree (w/1 small child) and a doctorate (w/2 small children). He supported everything I wanted to do. He was 100% with me always. He deferred some of his own dreams for my dreams and for that I am sorry. But for that I am also thankful and lucky. I have an infinite number of good memories. They are all good memories. After 24 years together and 19 years of marriage–all of my memories of him and us are good. Every one. I just can’t say that enough.

He was the love of my life and I was the love of his. We had plans for growing old together and being grandparents (sometime long into the future). We had plans for our kids and so many experiences he wanted to give them and so many places he wanted to take them. So much he wanted to teach them. His kids were his reason for everything. Every choice he made since Aug 2006 has been guided by his most important role as father.

I could go on and on. He had a whole amazing life before we met after he had just turned 30. And I mean a whole life. He left home and went to college, he dropped out of college, he lived in a tent, he biked across Europe, finished college. Attended 8 jazz fests (maybe more) in a row with buddies. Taught himself computers and built an impressive career. He really lived life. He really enjoyed life. He was happy.

He made incredible connections with so many people. He was so many things. And the words and messages I have received from the people whose lives he has touched as far back as grade school lift me and our kids up and I know they lift him up.

I imagine him looking down and seeing all of this love he has helped create and screaming “You really like me…” That was often his biggest fear and worry. That people wouldn’t like him. That he’d say the wrong thing. That he’d do something stupid. He knew he could be difficult. He knew he could be obnoxious. He worried that his “true” self was too much. I always told him it wasn’t. But it was a fear/worry he carried everywhere. I hope he is looking down and has found some peace and knows that we all loved him for all of who he was.

Our wedding song is “Happy together.” One of the lines is “I can’t see me loving nobody but you for all my life.”
And I can say right now. I will love him and nobody else for the rest of my life. The last thing I said to him on Saturday was that if he asked me, I would say yes to marrying him all over. Today, knowing how it ends, knowing the pain. I would say yes again. I would live our life over and over.

The Lighthouse song that was a fav of mine and became a fav of his is about a lighthouse off the coast of main and it goes

“To every drifting sailor on the ocean,
may you be delivered from the gale,
may only peaceful waters lie before you
gentle homeward breezes fill your sail.
Sometime long ago I heard a story
About a lighthouse off the coast of Maine
Holding out her lantern in the rain

60 miles she shines in all directions
While the wind comes lashing down the sound
And the deck heaves and groans to the pounding
of the demon sea driving us aground.

Tossed and turned about in troubled waters
Battered at the mercy of the waves
Out across the water shines a lighthouse
Mindless of the many lives she’s saved

60 miles she shines in all directions
While the wind comes lashing down the sound
And the deck heaves and groans to the pounding
of the demon sea driving us aground.

To every drifting sailor on the ocean,
Across the 7 seas you are bound to roam
When there is no star to guide your journey
May the lighthouse guide you safely home.

His love and our memories are my lighthouse.

The Reality of 45

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

I don’t often feel my age.  Yesterday, I did.  It was more a combination of age and a couple years of laziness–but 45 is hard.

I have always had a love/hate relationship with exercise, etc.  I love the way it makes me feel; but to be honest, I have not made it a priority.  There has always been an excuse or something else in the way–dissertation to write (DONE), papers to grade (Never Done), kids to run around (TAXI).

But, I have always been able to get back on the train pretty easily.  This past summer it hit me when I did a bike ride with my bestie–we had done lots of bike rides–and I struggled in ways I hadn’t before.  My hips are older (and I don’t stretch like I should) and my age is catching up with me.

My age and the difficulty of getting back in shape was never more apparent than yesterday when I did my first 5k training cycle.  My daughter is doing Girls on the Run this year for the first time and she needs someone to run with her.  I thought this was just the motivation I needed to get off my expanding ass and start the long (VERY LONG) road back to health.

It sucked.  I use to be able to run (a little)–but my knees and hips are a bit more combative (they like being lazy). It didn’t help that I am battling some lung congestion; but let’s be honest that was the least of my issues.  I was supposed to run for 1 min and walk for 1.5 min, alternating.  Well–I was able to run for 30 seconds.

It was humbling.

It was one of the first times that I have really felt old.

It was one of the first times that I have come face to face with the fact that I have really let myself go.  I will not give up–I might need more Advil.  I will keep pushing and if I have to do that first day 4-5 times before I get up to the 1 minute of running than I will.  I will do it for me.  It will be great to run with my 3rd grader–but it will be more than that.

I didn’t think I’d ever finish my dissertation and I did.

Yesterday, I didn’t think I could do the full 25 minutes of running/walking and while it was sucky and I didn’t do as much as I set out to do–I did it.  I will do it again tomorrow.  I’ll teach my kids that no matter how hard something is you cannot give up.

Here’s to hoping 45 gets better.  But it’s hard.

 

Chickens 1, Me 0

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 1 Comment

So, on Saturday we had to say good-by to our two roosters (Jellybean and Speedy).  These two roosters were the chicks that were hatched in Noah’s class.  So, to say the least, he was sad that both of his turned out to be roosters.  But hey–we can drive 90 minutes out of town to go and visit (yeah, we aren’t going to do that).

I promised Noah that we would get two new pullets to replace the roosters.  A weak parenting moment.  But to be honest, I didn’t really want only 2 chickens and had already decided that 4 was a great number.  So, I called a feed store and they had lots of pullets about the same age as the two remaining chickens.  Yesterday we trekked out to get Noah some chickens.  And because he is an emotional 7-year-old who believes the world often revolves around him, he insisted on having the same breed of chickens.  I had to stifle my laugh as I told him that we would have to pick from what they had available.

Well, they did have a couple barred rocks and we needed one of those to be Speedy 2.  They didn’t have a Jellybean, but Noah spotted an all white chicken that would work just fine.  I couldn’t have been happier that the world yet again seemed to bow at the feet of my little man.  So, we put our chickens in the big cat carried and went home.

So I will admit, I am new to chicken keeping and even though I did research and knew we should keep them separate until they got to know each other, I was motivated by how everything just worked out for Noah and so I through knowledge to the wind and asked the universe to make it all okay.

Well, screw the universe.  It wasn’t 3 minutes before they were fighting and our poor new Jellybean was getting stood on.  So, I tried to separate them (picture me crawling into the 2 foot high crawl space under the coop (I was literally crawling through crap).  Jellybean decided she’d had enough of this and leap up and out of the run.  The dog was ready to chase–but Bill got her inside as the chicken hid in the thick weeds and Noah screamed as though he was watching her be mauled by a bear.

She then ran into the garage–which is really just another word for death-trap junk pile for a 10-week-old chick who is literally scared out of her little pea-sized mind.

Finally we got her out and did what I should have done all along–separated the chickens.  Then we covered the run (and stabbed ourselves several times with the hardware cloth) in the sweltering 95+ degree heat.  Fun times.

I am putting the universe on notice.

The Kid Card

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

I was listening to NPR’s Tell Me More this morning and there was a segment discussing “The Kid Card.”  What prompted this conversation was this letter and this follow-up article.  It got me thinking a lot about how being a parent and how that impacts how I work and how my husband works.

I’ll be honest, being a parent has made me re-evaluate how I work.  It has made me look closely at what I am willing to do and what I am not.  I don’t think I play “the kid card,” but when I became a parent, I changed my own expectations of “work.”  I was fortunate enough to be able to leave my teaching job (thanks small mortgage and credit cards :)) to stay home for 3 years.  Then when it was time for Noah to start school at 3 (full-time, 5 days a week) I considered they type of job I wanted.  My first choice was to return to the high school classroom to teach.  But getting a teaching job is not easy as the market is saturated (especially if you are a humanities teacher–I teach English).  I did not get a teaching job then and ended up applying for a graduate assistantship that would pay for my part of the Ph.D. program.  It allowed me to work 20 hours per week, which were flexible hours and allowed me to keep teaching classes at the community college and the university where I also had my assistantship.

I was able to take and pick my son up from school and my daughter from day-care.  I could volunteer at school and go on field trips.  I began to realize how important flexibility was as a parent.  My assistantship eventually turned into a full-time job with flexibility as I was able to negotiate a faculty appointment (which meant I didn’t punch a clock and didn’t have a certain # of hours to log each day).  I know that there were people in the office with staff appointments resented my flexibility, but I realized that what I got paid for was to do my job–not to sit at my desk for 8 hours.

That is when I realized my husband was right–my salary was tied to getting my job done and not dependent on the number of hours I worked.  If I needed to stay late, I would.  If I needed to do work at night, I would.  But if I didn’t have work that needed to be completed, it meant that I could leave early to pick the kids up and go to the pool.

This flexibility is important to me and my family.  I had to really evaluate that recently as I was faced with a choice–keep my current, extremely flexible job (that also requires travel 2times per month) or take a teaching job.  While the teaching job will allow me to spend my summers with my kids, it doesn’t offer me the ability to volunteer at school and go on field trips, but it does keep me home every week.

But it isn’t just mothers who need/want flexibility.  My husband if very fortunate to have a job that affords him a huge amount of flexibility. He works at home.  He is able to take the kids to school and pick them up every day.  He can take care of them when they are sick and off school.  The idea that someone has to be sitting at their desk for exactly 8 hours a day seems ludicrous to me.  I understand there might be jobs where that is the expectation or even the need, but for many jobs it isn’t.

Shouldn’t we be looking for way to ensure that everyone has the work/life balance they need?  Whether it is to care for elderly parents, a sick spouse, children, a sick pet, etc.?  Shouldn’t our workplaces be a flexible as they can be?  Shouldn’t our bosses, supervisors, directors, etc., recognize the work we do and not necessarily the time we spend in the office?

Just as our schools haven’t changed much in the last 150  years (that is for another post), neither has our work places changed much.  It is important to start realizing that technology changes many things.  It is also important to accept that not all of us have jobs that can afford us flexibility.  But shouldn’t those that do, offer it–regardless of reason.  Taking time off or leaving early because my child has a game or a parent teacher conference shouldn’t be seen as more legitimate than my coworker who wants to go to the doctor or get a pedicure.

We all need to understand that we all have a life outside of our jobs and that we are each entitled to that life equally.

What If Money Did Not Matter

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

I sat down this morning to grade papers and write a pithy post about the amazing dinner I had last night (the red wine reduction sauce was TO DIE FOR–I could have just had a bowl if it).

But then I read Kelly’s post and it really got me thinking.  One thing I thought was I wish I could have taken Kelly and The Cuban to dinner with us–because they would have loved every bite (and it was a small business).  Our dinner started off with a blue cheese souffle and it only got better.

Back to Kelly’s thought provoking question:  What if Money Didn’t Matter?

What if it didn’t?  How might my life be different?  I like to think that most of my life wouldn’t change.  I’d still work in education–but how might that change?  I’d have to be honest and say that I would start a school (a charter school) that was guided by the same student centered progressive education that my kids get at their private school.  I so believe in the education that my kids get, that if money didn’t matter I would work tirelessly to bring that type of education to students in our urban center.

If money didn’t matter, I would take my family to live in Ethiopia for a year.  Giving my children the gift of their birth country and it’s rich heritage.  I would then write a book chronicling the journey, fused with narratives from my children on their experience.

If money didn’t matter, my husband wouldn’t work his high-stress computer job; he’d probably open a breakfast restaurant and have his afternoons off to volunteer and play golf.  Or he’d be a teacher (he is torn).

If money didn’t matter, I’d have more time to finish my dissertation.  Ah, that’s would be amazing.

But I live in a world where it does.  Maybe I live in a world where it is only the perception that money matters.  Thinking about how money drives so many of the decisions we make is sad.  I have been fortunate enough to get to follow my dreams regardless of money–because my husband has always been the breadwinner.  He has sacrificed his dreams, so that I could achieve mine.  I am happy that I was able to make lots of choices without thinking about money (I’ll be paying dearly for that–those student loans won’t pay for themselves).

So, how would your life be different if money didn’t matter?