Global Gravity

Global Gravity

My father-in-law, Jack Rupert, is an amazing man. I met Jack early in 1982. His daughter and I began dating during the winter of my senior year in college, and before I knew it, I was traveling to her McLean, Virginia home to meet both Jack and his wife, Shirl. I learned very quickly, that Jack was filled with stories.

By day, their home was ruled by a determined Jack Russell Terrier named, P.R. I was always told that P.R. was short for "Pot Roast." During the time of P.R.’s rule, Jack and Shirl would trek to Rockville, MD to run their photography studio.

Jack had learned the photography trade in the military during the time of the Korean War. His story was that instead of being sent to the war-zone, he was assigned morgue detail in Germany where he would take photographs of dead soldiers for identification purposes. I can’t imagine how horrible that assignment was for him. I can only imagine that my life would be irrevocably scarred from the experience if I had drawn that short straw. Yet, he showed no noticeable adverse affects from it.

Jack honed his camera skills, but more importantly, he became an artist with film. People would come in to his studio and have their family portrait taken. Then Jack would take the film back home and develop it in his basement lab, a place I never ventured into without some trepidation. When the prints were made, the clients would ask for certain modifications to improve their looks. Jack became a master of making double chins disappear and reducing visual evidence of the heartbreak of psoriasis. Seriously, Jack became true master of colorization.

In 1987, the photography studio burned to the ground. Both Jack and Shirl were inside when the fire ignited, and they both initially made it out safely, but Jack couldn’t stand by and watch his life go up in flames. He ran back into the building to try to salvage his camera, which he valued more than his life. He also wanted to retrieve some paintings by D.C. area artist, Joy McFarland. His trip inside the fire did not turn out well. Jack became disoriented in the smoke and blackness, but managed to feel his way out of the burning building by tracing his hands along the flaming walls. Once out, he was air-lifted to the burn unit at an area hospital.

The early prognosis wasn’t good, but Jack made an incredible recovery. His recovery story is miraculous; one that I will never forget and will have to share here one day. That being said, Jack never worked again as a photographer or artist, despite making a full physical recovery.

Somewhere along the way, Jack began putting his stories down onto paper. I’m not sure when that happened, but in 1998 (I believe) he and Shirl moved to Smith Mountain Lake near Roanoke, VA. He ended up joining a writer’s group at the lake and began pounding out short stories. A couple of years ago, about the time I started this blog, Jack started his own blog.

I know that this introduction to Jack has been a bit unusual. You see, Jack currently exists for me in both the present and the past. Last summer, just after he and I collaborated on a little YouTube piece called, “Depression Wiping,” Jack began losing weight and becoming fatigued.

The doctor confirmed that he had heart blockages and would require surgery. Just after Labor Day, Jack had a triple bypass and two valves replaced. The surgery seemed to go well and Jack was sent home to recover.

Within a week, however, it became obvious that something was amiss. His incision wasn’t healing properly and was becoming rather disgusting. His doctors determined that while the surgery on the heart was successful, the area where they harvested the vein near his breastbone had not healed. In fact, that area never regained a blood supply and had deteriorated beyond repair. The net effect was that Jack’s breastbone and ribcage had to be removed.

This surgery was expansive and extremely traumatic. He was kept in a drug-induced coma for a week or so and gradually brought out of it. Then he spent a couple of months in the hospital with a tracheotomy and food tube. The new year brought Jack a stay at a local rehabilitation facility.

He made some progress, but it became apparent to both Jack and all of his family that he was not really getting any better. In fact, all signs are pointing to congestive heart failure and a gradual erosion of his bodily functions. Jack asked that all life supporting treatments and medication be withdrawn and that wish was granted this past Monday. As of this moment, Jack is still with us and is still able to converse.

This past Sunday, Jack invited his friends from Smith Mountain Lake, writers and church members, as well as many others to come celebrate his life at what he called a “Hallelujah Party!” Jack was rolled into a hallway just outside a cookie filled conference room. Then people lined up to spend some time with him before they moved on to the cookies. Jack’s very fond of cookies and thought that sharing them with his friends would be an excellent way to thank them for their friendship and support.

The people shuffled by and each shared some private moments with Jack. Throughout the whole affair, Jack sat in that chair and smiled.

To my father-in-law, Jack, I wish you Godspeed and a peaceful rest apart from the torture you’ve endured the past six months. Thanks for your daughter’s hand in marriage. Thanks for the advice on how to fix all of those broken things when I was much younger. I could still use you to help repair that leaky faucet under my backyard deck, but I suppose I’ll manage somehow.

You amazed me on Sunday. What well did you store that smile and spirit in through all of the dark months? Another story I’ll always remember.

I’ll post some pictures from the Hallelujah Party soon. I also wanted to share a particularly humorous piece that Jack added to his blog last June.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

INCREASING GLOBAL GRAVITY HAS TO BE STOPPED

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

Increasing Global Gravity (IGG) is getting stronger each year I live. I remember when gravity wasn’t nearly as strong as it is now. We need a Gore-ish type person to step up and DO SOMETHNG ABOUT IT NOW.
When I was a child I hardly noticed IGG. I could run and jump with the best. Falling out of a tree was expected and not overly painful after my head stopped swelling. We fell off swings, tricycles, bicycles, rocks, hills, sliding boards, garage roofs, and our own feet. Some got broken bones, but I only had scrapes and sprains.

I noticed IGG increasing when I was 58. I found it harder to run across streets to avoid traffic. I thought it was due to my brain not able to calculate trajectory like it used too. But it was due to IGG and not my thought processes. I thought I was just as fast as before, but a stronger gravity was slowing me down.

20 years later gravity has done me no favors. IGG is pulling my body into a more compact package. I was a 6’1” hunk and now I’m a 5’11” hunk. Where did the 2” go? I know gravity has sucked away 2” of me into the bottomless pit, or wherever IGG is. It’s a relentless sucking power that IGG has on mankind-or womankind, if you prefer.

My skin is drooping. I have noticed the skin on my arms just hanging down. IGG has sucked away muscle tone and left behind wrinkles. This has got to stop. We need a government program at The National Institute of Health (NIH) to get involved. We need the Federal Government (FG) to make large sums of money available for research at every level.

IGG will attack every living person at sometime in his or her life. It happened to my father. I remember coming home from collage at Christmas and finding that my father had gotten smaller and the skin was hanging down from under his arms. And he had a lot more wrinkles. Dad would have been 59 that year. Our oldest child is 53 this year and is due for a visit in July or August. I wonder if IGG has started sucking away muscle from under her arms leaving hang-me-downs?

Upon stooping down to retrieve a found penny in the gutter, I noticed that it took me longer to get back up. Yes, I still pick up pennies. An old habit it hard to break. But I’ve noticed that I plan ahead now as to where the penny is and how best to retrieve it, and is there something close to hold on to, to aid in my getting back up, before I start the quick decent down. The going down has sped up which is proof of a stronger gravity. Soon I will have to get a small child or a pretty girl passing by to aid me. That’s the only positive about this situation.

IGG has caused all types of foot problems. I’ve had three operations on my right foot to straighten toes. The big toe developed a bunion that needed fixing. Then many years later I had to have it redone and the next toe pinned in place. Finally years later I had the big toe, the next-door toe, and finally the ring finger toe pinned frozen in place. I push off on my right foot like all Army veterans do. The push-off foot generates the power for the first step of a walk, and is under much greater stress than the left. That’s just fact. I haven’t the slightest idea how IGG caused my toe problems, but it has caused all my other problems, and a sore toe causes a sore body, mind and sprit.

If I had ever-or will ever-become a field goal kicker, it would be my right foot that makes contact with the ball for that game winning 3 points in the last second of a game, but due to IGG that may never happen.

Today I filled two six-gallon cans, four five-gallons cans with gasoline at the cost of $89.49. All of it will go for the boat and SeaDoo for when the grandchildren visit one day next week. Lifting those cans into the SUV Blazer was a day’s work. I never had a problem lifting a can of gas years ago? Because of IGG those cans were heavier than I remembered last week. Now I have to get them to the dock. I have to put them on a hand-truck to get them down the hill to the dock, and then pull the hand truck back up the hill for another trip.

After one trip, IGG sucked my feet to the ground so firmly that I had to take a two-hour nap. I’ll do the rest tomorrow or the next day, maybe? Better yet! I’ll wait until next week when our granddaughter comes with two boy friends, and have the boys’ showoff their strength.

I was one once, remember?