❧❧❧ Whatever you can do or dream, you can BEGIN IT. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Goethe ❧❧❧
❧❧❧ You were born whole, not broken. Sandra Hammel ❧❧❧
Do you have one person in your life that the bond would be unbelievable, if it wasn't actually happening to you?I do.I didn't look for this bond where I found it.I always wanted this bond to happen with one other person and expected or hoped it would happen in an intimate relationship.But that is not where it showed up.
The bond is organic, in that it is natural and just is.That doesn't mean that it has only been warm feelings, peaceful and always smooth. None of those things are true.Trying to understand his emotional pain, heartfelt best intentions to always be what I needed to be for this person, times of being on the receiving end of hurtful words are true. Importantly, the hurtful words are not definitive of who he is.He owns his mistakes.And this is a new experience for me. I feel heard when expressing my feelings.I have not witnessed this truthful and complete endeavor in others to be the best that they are in all parts of their life.More specifically, the introspection that he uses to be his best self, I have not seen before. Especially in the men I have known.
The connection is one that is deep in my soul.I believe it is reciprocal.It is a rich and complex relationship between two deeply-feeling and deeply-experiencing beings.I am so grateful to have this bond and to know the connection in the way that I do as a gift from this other spirit walking the earth at the same time that I am.
It is without pretense.There is genuine communication not only in a mortal way, but in a spiritual way.The sincerity he has is so healing for me to see in another human being.
Truthfulness is a hallmark of how we allow each other to be.It is stunning and beautiful and I am grateful.
Recently, each time I have brought a difficult conversation to him, he has shown himself to not only meet me fairly and with complete integrity, he has exceeded how I might have imaginedhim to show up and allow himself to be and allow me to see. The openness has been refreshing. As he has entered his young adult life and I have entered the autumn into winterseason of my life, he has shown glimpses of the most beautiful humanbeing I have ever known.We are now working through things with ourroles changing and I now can ask for things not possible when my role wasthe grown-up and he the, child.
We are approximately 40 years different in age.
He is my son.I didn'tgive him birth.But, if I had, we couldn't have been more connected with more of a bond.
December 28, 1997
Since my movie camera stopped working the day that he moved in, we went out and rented a movie camera to capture memories of the first Christmas together.
Beauty is life when life unveils her holy face. But you are life and you are the veil. Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror. But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
Read it in full ...............................................................
............................................................... John Gorka sings I Think of You Especially for Johanna. Johanna has helped me get to know Heath Ledger and his work. She introduced me to Heath's Conor of the Roar Series.
In this video is a clip of Johanna's favorite movie of Heath's - Candy and also a bit of my favorite, The Four Feathers, as well as a clip of the Sweet Bright episode of Roar (or so it is titled on my dvd - I think it should be titled Sweet Bridget) and pictures of Brokeback Mountain, The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus (Heath's final film) and The Patriot.
Youtube has made this video a "featured video" under two categories as of today: ilovemylife and Heath Ledger.
Johanna has become my friend. June 1st was an important day to her and this video is a tribute to her and this important day when her father passed away.
This is best watched at youtube, where you can select to watch it in the size of your screen. (Lower right corner of yt video - the four cornered arrows....just click on that.)
Used in this video: Candy, Roar, The Four Feathers and also pictures from The Patriot, The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus and Brokeback Mountain.
I encourage supporting John Gorka who graciously said "yes" when I asked him if I could use his music on my youtube videos. johngorka.com His music is also available at itunes and amazon.
Lyrics I look to see the wildflowers blooming and wonder why they seem so plain Springtime rides all the brown hills over, young birds sing in the silver rain I think of you as the night rolls by, you’re on my mind the whole night through
Far away in a lonesome city, all the time you’re gone, I think of you And when my world has turned to sunlight, and the dust clouds stand in the summer sky I’ll number all the climbing roses, watch to see the milkweed fly I think of you as the night rolls by, you’re on my mind the whole night through
Far away in a lonesome city, all the time you’re gone, I think of you And when I hear the soft wind moaning, like an angel’s voice from a far-off shore My days slip by like light snow falling, or dry brown leaves blown by my door I think of you as the night rolls by, you’re on my mind the whole night through Far away in a lonesome city, all the time you’re gone, I think of you
.......................................................... How I Got Over Mahalia Jackson The video quality needs to be overlooked - but this is great, nevermind the flaws in the video. Uploaded by elfeco
My dad loved this kind of music. And so do I. We had Mahalia's LP and I loved playing it on the record player when I was young. I bought Mahalia's music on cd and it still affects me, today. I was singing along with this song in the car yesterday...one great car ride on a beautiful ride over the Newport-Pell Bridge over Narragansett Bay here in Rhode Island.
A click on the post title will take you Kahlil Gibran'sFriendship
Without even going out of the door One can know the whole world. Lao Tzu
I like to write. When I write about my internal world of feelings, confusion and need for understanding ~ I find healing, clarity and comfort just by finding ways to express my rawness. What I have learned over the last couple of years is that finding truth in my personal life is hard. Hard because what I always believed about my most important contributor to my life was simply wrong. I am wrestling with the depth of the feelings and trying to integrate the revealed with what used to be my internal world. Just because I don’t want to believe that it was false ~ to have been operating with the assumption that I was unconditionally loved by the one who brought me into this world ~ doesn’t change the truth.
Just because someone says “I love you” ~ it doesn’t make it so.
I have come to believe that I can make it without the unconditional love of someone else.
I am not a victim. I choose to live in personal truth. There is nothing more important than truth. Unless it is justice. But justice needs truth.
I take comfort in knowing that what I am is someone I could spend my whole life with. I know how ridiculous that reads. But I love my own company. I love my sense of humor. I love my spirit for life. And I love the joy of being me. I love that I am not pretentious. At the end of all endings, none of us has anyone but who we are. And if you can like yourself and how you have treated others and how you have stood for truth and justice, then that is a pretty good place to be.
I have been going through the foundation of my life. This search has been amplified by the death of my dad May 10, 2007 and finding myself letting the grieving out. It has shaken my core but I haven’t found it discouraging, but a lighter load to carry.
My dad had a diagnosis of Alzheimers Disease, but he and I communicated to his last breath. To me, he had some memory problems, but his spirit was always in tact and very present. My dad had my forgiveness for all the past rage and leather strappings during my childhood because in the end I saw the man for whom he really was ~ gentle, compassionate, loving and tactful. My dad gave me the personification of integrity and being genuine. With me, he showed a sense of humor in his last year. I consider it a gift.
It has been holy work to figure out my family. I have been so moved by the sweetness of my dad. I am aware that the last time we were together was a spiritual experience not only between father and daughter, two human beings, but with Life itself in an all encompassing way. It was a religious experience for me.
What more could we possibly be than sweetness in another’s life?
My roots will be constantly reaching for my father’s fertile ground of strength, fortitude and joy of life. Plant your tree where the ground is best for you.
“We think of religious activity as directed toward God - instead of man.
We believe in someone divine rather than in ourselves.
Maybe we have turned religion inside-out.”
From the book Please Touch by Edwin M. McMahon and Peter A. Campbell
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.” William Wordsworth
If I had wings no one would ask me should I fly The bird sings, no one asks why. I can see in myself wings as I feel them If you see something else, keep your thoughts to yourself, I’ll fly free then.
Yesterday’s eyes see their colors fading away They see their sun turning to grey You can’t share in a dream, that you don’t believe in If you say that you see and pretend to be me You won’t be then.
How can you ask if I’m happy goin’ my way? You might as well ask a child at play! There’s no need to discuss or understand me I won’t ask of myself to become something else I’ll just be me!
If I had wings no one would ask me should I fly The bird sings, and no one asks her why. I can see in myself wings as I feel them If you see something else, keep your thoughts to yourself, I’ll fly free then.
Lyrics of If I Had Wings as sung by Peter, Paul and Mary
The relationship of connectedness or lacking of connectedness that we have with a mother or a father are monumentally important. They affect us in everything. I continue to try to accept that my mother is what she is. Not what I thought she was, but what she is.
Last mother's day was spent away from my son. I spent the morning on that mother's day in Indiana, my son in Rhode Island. I was sitting in church with a congregation of the people that I grew up with. My brother sitting by my side from Hawaii. We were there for dad though his body had no more life in it. That afternoon I sang hymns to my dad in the casket ~ sitting on a stool and being with him ~ in a way that was denied the last time I was in Indiana while he was alive.
I touched his cold hands and cheeks. It was real. He was gone. And yet... death does not end a relationship. Mine with my father is clearer than ever. He was genuine, there was no charade of pretending to care for me. That in the end became to be so very important to me.
Dad waited for me to sing one last time The Old Rugged Cross while the phone was held to his ear. The last communication he had with me, because he couldn't talk and was too weak to respond to my suggestion to squeeze the nurse's hand to say that he loved me was to wink with his left eye. His last breath was taken when I sang the last word of the song.
My dad was not a pretender. He was the best parent at the end when who he truly was ~ was transparent. There is nothing that can be better than to have a parent who is authentic.
I love you, Dad. Thank you, I know you are my angel.
............................................. Sung by Eva Cassidy
On Giving Kahlil Gibran
You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give. For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow? And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city? And what is fear of need but need itself? Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much which they have--and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome. And there are those who have little and give it all. These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty. There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism. And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space. Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.
It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding; And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving. And is there aught you would withhold? All you have shall some day be given; Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.
You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving." The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish. Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights, is worthy of all else from you. And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream. And what desert greater shall there be, than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving? And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed? See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving. For in truth it is life that gives unto life while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
And you receivers... and you are all receivers... assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings; For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the freehearted earth for mother, and God for father. On Giving
On Death Kahlil Gibran
You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity. Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour. Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance. On Death
...................................................... The Story of Love For my Dad Let the world stop turning. Let the sun stop burning. Let them tell me love's not worth going through. If it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart the only dream that mattered had come true: In this life I was loved by you.
Dad and my son on the lake that dad made out of a corn field and a natural spring.
Dad around 1954
I was in a play called I Never Sang for My Father years ago. But I did. I sang for my father. When he was alive. We sang together, too. And I have sung for my father since he died seven months ago. There was something special that I had with my father. And now my feelings for him have become even more precious.
I was not allowed to see movies when I was growing up. Not counting the Disney movie, Bambi, that I finally was allowed to see after much debate with my second grade class on a field trip, the first real movie experience I had was when I convinced my parents to let me go see the movie The Sound of Music. My parents went with me and my dad loved Julie Andrews in the movie. ...............................................................
............................................................... The Lendler Uploaded by ArtHistory101
And then in November 2005, I visited Salzburg and walked some of the very places where the movie was shot. How cool is that! When I was in Villach, Austria, I stayed at a very nice hostel and one night a birthday party was being celebrated at the hostel. I was walking by the room and heard this fantastic harmonizing singing ~ it sort of blew me away. We have lost that in the USA. We used to sing the National Anthem at events ~ now we mostly just stand there and let someone else perform it without any audience participation. That is sad. Music is such a community thing. A joy we could give ourselves.
This is my first Christmas since my father left his mortal life behind. As sorrowful as I am that I was kept from him at the end of his life by my mother, I spent time with him on his last Father's Day June 18, 2006. When I returned home after visiting him in Indiana I wrote the following to him.
From your daughter Sandy, from Rhode Island
Dad
I will do the remembering for both of us.
I remember the first time you saw me and said my name, “Sandy”, when I surprised you, Sunday, Father’s Day.
I remember you closing your eyes, then opening your eyes, then your eyes looking into my eyes when I sang “The Old Rugged Cross” to you while you were lying down in your room on Monday.
I remember the slow- moving pain in your eyes when I told you of the day I would leave you.
I remember the big smile that you gave when I showed you the words “Rhode Island” on your wall and you saying “that will help”. I remember you spelling the word r-o-a-d.
I remember my prayer to God that we shared in your room and you said “that was a nice prayer.”
I remember the time you were lying on your bed, I mentioned your favorite song, “Go Tell It on the Mountain” And you starting singing the song by yourself and I sang along with you.
I remember the day we were walking through all the halls on the way to outside and you telling me it was the wrong way, then telling me that I was right three times as we continued walking on.
I remember you reading the road sign “Roanoke” when we were driving to Roanoke.
On my last day, it was hard on you, I could see. But you stood and told me you loved me, we hugged, you walked me down the hall. You were being my Dad.
We don’t always get what we want in life, but I still have you and that is my blessing.
You are still doing God’s work, teaching me.
We walked holding hands. Thank you for that. We kissed on the lips. Thank you for that. We shared love. Thank you for that. You needed my help and I was able to help. Thank you for that.
Thank you for the time we shared together. Thank you for your heart that you shared with me. Thank you for looking at me, eye to eye. Thank you for saying my name, “Sandy”. Thank you for the feelings that you shared with me. Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for being so brave. Thank you for trying so hard.
Your brain is not serving you well, but your good spirit lives on. I will have your spirit with me always. I treasure our time together more than possessions.
I am so grateful to you, Your Daughter “Sandy from Rhode Island” Visit: June 18, Sunday, Father’s Day – June 23, Friday, 2006
Dad in the the hammock, my older brother Greg, me and my younger sister, Nancy .
When I first heard this song, it was before I adopted my son. He was one of hundreds of students I had at the time. I was his music teacher in school.
The song's lyrics ~
"If it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart the only dream that mattered had come true: In this life I was loved by you" said what I felt.
Then when my father died, I put the lyrics to this song on the poster with all the pictures I displayed at dad's funeral.
When we love ~ we have found life's true purpose. There is nothing that compares with knowing how it feels to love another.
dad
son
The lyrics
. . . Let the world stop turning. Let the sun stop burning. Let them tell me love's not worth going through. If it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart the only dream that mattered had come true: In this life I was loved by you.
For every mountain I have climbed, every raging river crossed, you were the treasure that I longed to find. Without your love I would be lost.
Let the world stop turning. Let the sun stop burning. Let them tell me love's not worth going through. If it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart the only dream that mattered had come true:
In this life I was loved by you.
I know that I won't live forever, but forever I'll be loving you.
Let the world stop turning. Let the sun stop burning. Let them tell me love's not worth going through. If it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart the only dream that mattered had come true: In this life I was loved by you In this life I was loved by you
>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>:>: Do Something Because to Do Nothing Is Wrong In the Biggest Possible Example of Human Kindness darfurgenocide.org dosomething
Special Message To You From Bette Midler
Dear Friends,
Like many of you, I have recently been deeply affected by the terrible suffering of the people of Darfur, Sudan. Over the last two years, over 380,000 people have died, and 2 million driven from their homes by a brutal campaign of repression by the Sudanese government. Darfur's women have been targeted for systematic rape and brutality.
This terrible inhumanity must stop. It affects all of us, because we are all connected in one human family. But to stop it you and I need to rise up and be heard. We CAN stop the killing, if we can persuade our government to put enough pressure on the Sudanese government and its allies to make them stop. Please take just 3 minutes today, right now, to send a strong message to President Bush, or donate money to advocacy or humanitarian aid.
Today, my plans were turned upside down. Once my Darfur lobby appointment was cancelled for December 17 with U.S. RI Representative Patrick Kennedy, I could stop studying the points to be made to the constituents prior to meeting with Patrick for Monday morning. I already had emailed all the important “asks” to Patrick’s office Friday, so I simply asked the scheduler to forward them to Patrick in Washington, D.C. because some of the things are to be up for a vote Monday. Although it has taken me since February 2007 to land this lobby meeting, I wasn’t upset with the change in plans for now. We will be rescheduled after I go to New Hampshire to volunteer in the Derry, New Hampshire Barack Obama campaign office through January 9. So the big decision to be made after going to the Doctor’s this morning and getting a prescription costing $109 ~ a bottle, 1 inch high and ½” in diameter of ear drops ~ I decided NOT to buy a Christmas tree. I spent hours this afternoon decking the house out though. I cut lots of branches from my juniper trees in the back yard, put them in a bucket of water. Cut holly branches complete with the red berries. Got out all the Christmas stuff. While in the attic, I saw the little red sled from my Indiana childhood, that my dad had repainted red with my name across the middle wood slat and transported to Rhode Island years ago when mom and dad traveled a lot by a 32 foot motor home. Great! I thought. Dad can be here in my decoration scene. My dad died May 10th ~ the same date that his mother died years ago. But dad died this year. I only cried recently about dad being gone from my mortal life. But mostly because he didn’t get to die living in his home, but in a tiny room in an institution.
My dad had a favorite song, that I don’t think anyone knew of ~ until I told them. It was “Go, Tell It On the Mountain”. We sang it together in that tiny room even when I had been told he couldn’t remember things, that he wouldn’t recognize me, he had no capacity to smile ~ only I found all of that to be untrue. He smiled with me, he remembered and talked with me and we shared some of the most intimate and memorable times while his memory was less, but still there.
The saddest part was that my mother kept me from being with my dad at the end. She denied me and my dad time and experiences together those last years. And when he was near death, she never called and told me. So here I was in Rhode Island doing my Darfur activist stuff. On May 9th I was organizing the thousands of divestment petitions to be delivered to Fidelity Investment Company’s main headquarters’ office in Smithfield, RI with students from Providence College and Brown University.
May 10th, my brother had arranged to have me talk to my dad in Warren, Indiana on the phone following his phone call to dad. And I called at 10:00 a.m. with a written out message to dad to tell him that I was coming to Indiana to see him next week, but that if he couldn’t wait until then, to know it is okay to go and that I love him. On the phone, I sang him one of his other favorite songs “The Old Rugged Cross” that I had sung to him on my recent visit to Indiana. At that time, while I was singing it, dad closed his eyes and I thought to myself that maybe he was passing away at that time, but no, he slowly opened his eyes later in the song and looked straight ahead. He was just taking it in.
This time I had the nurse who was holding the phone to his ear so he could hear me talk to him ~ also hold his hand while I talked to him. He was unable to talk anymore. But he understood everything that I was saying. I said again, I love you, dad. I asked him to squeeze Nurse Marcia’s hand to say that he loved me. After I said my last good-bye, Marcia came on the phone and told me that she thought he was gone. She was amazed at the peace that came over his body and face. She saw him take his last breath. Marcia said that he was too weak to squeeze her hand, but dad at the time I asked him to squeeze Marcia’s hand, winked his left eye. My dad told me he loved me with a wink of his eye. His mind was there for us both.
At his funeral I told the story of my last phone call with my dad. My dad’s sister told me that mom never looked at me once as I talked and sang “The Old Rugged Cross”.
Marcia, said he had waited for me. I adore my dad. And I am sad that my mother didn’t tell me he was this near death so that I could have gone home to be with him in person. But my mother hadn’t told me she moved dad into this institution either. Dad so badly did not want to go to this institution. He hated it there. He wanted to go to his final annual Hammel Family Reunion August 5, 2006. I wanted to grant him this wish. But my mother forbid it. So my mother got her way. And my dad is now gone from this mortal life. ………………………………………………
……………………………………………… youtube Uploaded by a 16 year old of Sweden called Hafor at Youtube.
At his funeral May 14, 2007, we all sang “Go, Tell It on the Mountain". I love this youtube of it. Dad liked music. But he was a sportsman. Right out of high school, he went to play for the Green Bay Packers with Curly Lambeau. Football was dad's favorite sport to play, although he was a track star also. Dad told me he loved playing football in the rain the best. None of this was in my dad’s obituary. He was an excellent basketball coach in two Indiana high schools, also. Bobby Knight would scout the boys on my dad’s teams for recruitment because of the fundamentals and X’s and O’s coaching that my dad did.
My mother left for the airport to go to Hawaii with my niece, on the afternoon of May 14th. The trip had been planned for a long time. Recently, I have begun to write about my life, my feelings, my memories by sifting through my prolific writing over a lifetime and it is stunning to have all these feelings for a dad that belted me, but in the end, showed me how very special I was to him. In his heart, he was a teddy bear. The afternoon, following my dad's funeral, I went to visit his only surviving elder brother on a farm. Jerald told me that dad had received more whippings than the other four children in their family put together. Jerald died in his sleep 5 days later.
My dad's mom, dad, siblings and him. He's the one holding the ball.
Here you have my Christmas “tree” that cost me nothing but time. AND there is the red sled of my childhood, painted by my dad by the tree as a part of the Christmas 2007 at my house. Thank you.
Mark O’Keith Hammel Born August 3, 1924 Died May 10, 2007 CoachHammelDies familytree MerryChristmasDad!
Sandra Hammel Born April 2, 1949 Not dead yet My dad's nickname for me was Whistle Bait. I know it may sound disgusting, but he meant it in the nicest way, I am sure.
Dad in his thirties, coaching basketball practice Dad, my brother and me at Lake Michigan's beach
An Indiana winter scence at the lake that dad made Dad and me. He's the cute one : )
A summer scene of the same lake Both of my parents had the same nickname in high school.They were Mick and Mick. Reflection on the lake Dad, my younger sister, my older brother and that's me with the barefoot
Dad, as coach
and again Dad was just thrown in the shower by the team in this picture. Keith, the player beside himcame to dad's funeral and spoke very lovingly about him.
By brother and me
Dad at home Dad & I That looks like an onery look on his face. Probably was.
April 9, 1944, the day my parents married.
He loved his rock business. He took his "rock talk" to the schools to share his knowledge. Here he is in his Clear Creek Rock Shop with my son.
Dad at my house in Rhode Island First Grandson, who is now 27 years old. Loved being Grandpa.
Me with the lake that dad made behind me.
My dad, brother and me. I'm sure I just got scolded, it's written on my face. Dad, my brother and me in Huntington, Indiana, where both of my parents grew up and where I was born. Home of Dan Quayle's Library. Really... Okay, so I'm the ONLY democrat in my family, but I took this picture when I was home in May to prove it to you... Bush the father chose Quayle and Bush the son choice Cheney...hmmm...not too good at selecting vices
Dad at home
Dad & my son, Jonathan, out on his man-made lake
Dad & my son by the lake
Dad Here he is in September 2005 Dad's family. He's the one holding the ball.
Dad's oldest brother, the physicist, Dad in the middle, Dad's other older brother, the artist and farmer
Dad's Mother and who I inherited my red hair from
TRUTH NEVER DIES
At my dad’s funeral, I began with these words:
“The one thing about my dad that makes him special to me was and will continue to be his SPIRIT.My dad is my hero.He made it a better world…”
I am grateful for the time that I had with my Dad a year ago during father’s day week, when I flew to Indiana to see him.It was the last father’s day that he was alive.I sang hymns to him in his little room.Sometimes, he sang.He initiated conversation one day.I was told that he wouldn’t recognize me by my sister who lives in Indiana.I was told by my mother that he didn’t show happiness any more.None of this proved to be true.When I walked down the hall of the Alzheimer residents’ floor, I spotted him standing 30 to 40 feet away.He lifted his arm toward me and said my name “Sandy”.He immediately wanted to leave the building.Later I found out why.He wanted to go home.
When father’s day came, I went to visit dad.I told him it was Father’s Day and that he was my dad.Neither my brother, nor my sister visited dad on that day. I spent a lot of time with dad that week which I found out later upset my mother.Dad expected mom to spend more time with him and mom didn’t like that.I upset her life.That is reason enough to be condemned in my family.
The Hammel Reunion - one that dad was present for
Because I wanted to have more time with my father, the first week of August 2006, I flew back to Indiana for dad’s birthday which coincided with the annual Hammel family reunion.Mom was not happy with me for coming.The day after dad’s 82nd birthday, I took him out for a car ride.This was the last time I was allowed the freedom to take him out.He was worried the whole ride that he would get in trouble with mom for going out.Even so, his whole body language changed completely when he saw where we were – at the lake and house that he had built.During this trip out, he made it clear that he felt that since it was his family reunion that he should get to go.It made sense to me.But what also made sense, was his worrying about mom’s power over him at this time in his life.The next evening dad asked mom in front of me if she was going to the Hammel Reunion.For someone who I was told couldn’t remember things, he remembered this for over 24 hours.She answered him, “No, and you’re not either.”She was mad at me.I said “He wants to go, why shouldn’t that matter?”The next morning I received a phone call telling me that I was no longer to take dad out for car rides.And specifically, that Mom forbid me to take him to his family reunion.The nurse called me to tell me this information.That evening when my dad’s sister and I went to visit dad after the reunion, dad was scared the whole time that mom would show up.This woman badly affected this man, but blamed me for his reaction.None of this looked like love to me.
My father still had desires, wishes and expressed them.But he was denied by his wife, my mother to have any say in his life.She was in total control.This saddens me even now after his death.She won this one.But overall, Dad was the ultimate winner in how he lived out his entire life to the last breath.
How do I put into words in one blog post, a lifetime with my dad?That is not possible to do.That, however, has never stopped me from making an effort before.
My family is nothing like the one that I thought I had.Turns out that pretending played a big part in what my family is.The family that I was supposed to believe that we were was a Christian-loving, compassionate and kind family.Except for my father, in the end, none of that is true.My mother has shown herself to be someone that I don’t know. But at least, now I know.There is some positive value in that knowledge.
Until, my dad got a supposed diagnosis of Alzheimer’s Disease, I had to take dad on mom’s terms.On the phone, she controlled the conversation when they both were on the phone.Then over the last several years, she just acted like he didn’t exist at all.I had to press her to put him on the phone.When he was on the phone, she criticized him for breathing too hard or being wrong about whatever he did try to say to me.I overlooked much of her behavior.But it became so blatant last summer, that I had no choice but to see her for what behavior she exhibited for all to see.
My father always recognized me.He always was able to communicate with me.Yes, there were days that he couldn’t retrieve words that he was looking for, but none of that mattered to me.It was all the more reason to love him and be patient with him.I personally don’t believe that he had AD, but some other form of dementia.An AD diagnosis cannot be definitively confirmed unless a brain autopsy is done after death.Having this diagnosis appeared necessary for my mother’s sake.It allowed her to put him away and feel justified.My father pleaded with his wife, my mother, to allow him to live at home.In front of me, she told the doctor last August that she and he had been fighting every day before she put him in the “home”.
The saddest thing about my dad’s dying May of this year is that he wasn’t truly loved by the woman that he emotionally demonstrated his love for until he died.For the last decade she increasingly and more boldly humiliated him.She put him down in front of all to witness.She revealed to me that she is not the person she pretended to be all these years.She still wants me to believe that she is.But to do that, I would have to deny myself a promise that I made to myself:I will live in truth.Maya Angelou says “when someone shows you who they are, believe her/him.”
That is where I am with the people who are in my family.Even with impaired mental retrieval, my dad had emotional integrity to the end of his mortal life.What a betrayal of trust he lived through.If there is a heaven, I hope he gets extra credit for this enduring skill that he exhibited.
It is difficult beyond reason to accept that your mother lacks total empathy and has never found out who she really is.I feel my mother proves denial of true feelings only creates a fiend.My mother wants me to believe that what she says is true.Instead I believe what she behaves.
My whole adult life I have been the “sinner” or the “black sheep” of the family.For a long, long time I struggled trying to gain what I thought was my parents’ approval and love.But, now I know it was my mother that was the hold out.I wanted to be known for the woman that I had become.I wanted to be understood by my mother.Now, I surrender.I don’t want her approval anymore.I live fully without her understanding the full human being that I am.It is her loss more than it is mine.As much as I would adore having a mother’s love in this way, I know a person who doesn’t know herself or love herself has no way of giving this to someone else.This is sad. But this is true.I can live with truth even when it is sad.
In spite of my family’s stamp of disapproval of how I live my life, or how they think I live my life, I have found my real self.I love my life.And after trying for the last time to communicate with my mother on August 7, 2006, I leave her with her life and I was able to step into my life more freely than ever before.I have never been happier.My family looks like some scripted movie to me.It is not a family that I would want to live in.There is not one person in my family that I see anything that I would want to be.Except for one.Dad.I would never have dreamed my family would turn out to be the way it is.But it is.
Dad died Thursday, May 10, 2007 at 10:05 a.m.May 10th is the same day that his mother died.
Dad at his parents' grave stone September 2005
He was 82 years, 10 months old.The only member in my family who had called to tell me about dad’s expected death was my brother, who lives in Maui.The two who live in Indiana, my mom and my sister, had never contacted me over the last years about dad.Not to tell me he was leaving home to live in this institution.Not that he had fallen after being hit by a car.Not that he was near death.On Wednesday, May 9, 2007, my brother called me to let me know that the next morning he was going to arrange to have dad hear his voice.We were both going to Indiana the next week, but in case dad didn’t survive that long, we wanted speak to dad, although he himself couldn’t speak anymore.The next day, Greg called me at 9:00 a.m. to update me.
My dad gave me what I needed to believe.Where mom had let me down in so many ways, Dad came through.He demonstrated how to live in truth and integrity even at the end.My dad was real.He was never pretentious.Those who knew my dad admired him.The middle of five children, born August 3, 1924, he was the only one in his high school class of 1943, to be classified 4F for the military during World War II.He was however recruited out of high school, by Curly Lambeau, the coach of the Green Bay Packers.
My father’s favorite sport to play was football although he ran track and played basketball. And he did all of this with his own dad’s disapproval, initially.
This is what they wore. This is the only picture I have - it's high school.No Green Bay Packers picture, just a Packer-Redskins program, a letter from Curly Lambeauand newspaper clippings with his name praised a lot.
My dad was very proud of his oldest brother, now deceased, Harold Theodore Hammel, a world-known physicist. This is uncle Ted's back side of his grave stone:
Just before Ted died he had proven a new theory. His name was nominted for a Nobel Peace Prize, but you cannot be awarded posthumously.
I visited my dad's other older brother, Jerald, in the early evening of the day of my dad’s funeral. He told me “Your dad got more beatings than all of the rest of us put together”.Dad got some of those beatings on the behalf of other’s actions.His mother put salve on his wounds.My dad’s family was far from well-to-do.His own father a few days prior to finishing seventh grade was sent to work and live on a farm for room and board.He told my father he cried himself to bed every night.
My dad built the three family houses that I lived in as I grew up.The first one I was born in. The last one was built on a lake he created from a natural spring where a corn field had been. During college, he started his own wood floor refinishing business that developed into contracts doing the basketball courts at Notre Dame University, Indiana and PurdueUniversities.He taught and coached basketball at two high schools with acclaimed success.But to him, the most important reason for coaching was the mentoring that it allowed him to do.The local newspaper sportswriter told me that Bobby Knight respected my dad’s coaching and came to recruit players from dad’s teams.
For me, I remember the fact that dad’s players rules included strict rules about not dating – so it seems that might have had some bearing on the fact not one player ever asked me out for a date.
I was raised by imposing parents.The leather belt was used frequently on me and my brother.Both of my parents gave us “lickings”.With dad however, I remember the talks afterwards -they were confusing.He would sit on the edge of my bed with me after the blistering cracks on the skin and say that “he did it because he loved me and that it hurt him more than it hurt me”.Well, he was wrong on that.
By the time I grew into myself as an adult, I knew my father had the heart of a teddy bear.It is not okay to whip your children.I was able to see through that and see him for who he was at heart, later in my life.My dad was a compassionate man.He made it a practice to not criticize people in general.He showed his sensitive nature by how he chose his words and articulated his thoughts.He admired spunk.He had spunk himself.He never pretended to be anything that he wasn’t.
Truth for me means no pretense.Being genuine.Real.Dad gave me the gift of personifying these attributes from a member of my family.
The newspaper sportswriter spoke at my dad’s funeral, “The one thing that I liked about Mark was his intensity.He loved to win.”
I am intense.I love being passionate about my passions, about my life.And now I can own this trait about myself and see that it comes from dad.
Although it appears that dad got beat by life – that is not true.He lived his life to the last breath on his terms.He was forced to live where he didn’t want to live.He wanted to live at home.But he refused to draw his last breath until he wanted to.
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My dad's older brother, Jerald died while reading his mail on his bed May 19, 2007. I was the last one to see him face to face, although his children had talked to him on the phone. My dad is survived now by their only sister, who is a gifted pianist. My uncle had mailed me some photographs that I had left at his house. They arrived in my mailbox after he passed away. His daughter told me that he wanted me to have a picture that he had drawn of me. I feel blessed that I decided to go out to visit Jed the day of my dad's funeral.
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The Day My Dad Died I Was On the Phone With Him
When I called, Marcia, a nurse picked up the phone.She said dad’s "pulse is irregular, there are crackles in his lungs, he is non-responsive today, he moaned yesterday when I turned him over".
Below is what I said on the phone call to my dad.He took his last breath at the end of the phone call.
“Hello, dad, this is Sandy from Rhode Island.I love you, dad.I love you so very much.I wish I was there.I would hug you and kiss you.I’m going to sing you one verse of
“The Old Rugged Cross”.
On a hill, far away, stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame,
But I know that old cross, the dearest and best,
For a world of lost sinners was slain,
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross
Where trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged cross
And exchange it some day for a crown.”
I’m coming to Indiana in 6 days, but if you go to heaven before that, just know I’ll see you up in heaven and I’ll hug you and kiss you in heaven.I love you, dad.Can you squeeze Marcia’s hand to say you love me?I love you, dad. Bye
Following this in a couple of seconds, Marcia came on the phone and said:
Sandy, he blinked his eye
I think he’s very close
I think it helped
I’m holding his hand
It’s amazing
He’s waited for you
Beautiful…beautiful
You know, I think he’s gone
I’ve never seen anything like it…..hhhh.
It’s just amazing
I said, what do you mean…
Reply:You and the connection
He waited for you
The healing
He blinked – he doesn’t do that.
I said in response, he was resourceful to the end. He didn't have the strength to squeeze your hand, so he came up with something else.
She responded, How can anyone not believe?
She said, I don’t have my stethoscope, but I think he’s gone
I said, would you get your stethoscope?
She replied: I will.I’ll be right back.
Back, she says:I think he’s gone
I said:Will you touch his hand or arm?
She answered:I touched his forehead
She asked me:Will you be calling Greg?
I said:Yes.
I asked Marcia to stay with me on the telephone.She did.
This was a gift that he gave to me.This was a blessing.I knew it right then.
I shared this story at the funeral service and the singing of “The Old Rugged Cross”.
“Let the world stop turning,
Let the world stop burning,
Let them tell me love’s not worth going through
If it all falls apart
I will know deep in my heart
The only dream that mattered had come true
In This Life I was loved by you.”
From the song “In This Life” sung by Bette Midler
When I went to thank Marcia for all that she had done for my dad, I asked her which eye dad winked with and she said the one near the wall, the left one. I can't even make my left eye wink by itself.But he could.I know he understood everything I said to him. He found a way to say he loved me when I asked. Then...Marcia said she saw him take his last breath. She said she has never seen anyone go like dad, immediately following an exchange. What a gift he gave to me. Such a blessing. Now, he has peace that he so deserved and needed.
What a really cool man he was and continues to be in my life. A wink has a whole new meaning for me now.
Dad liked Tennesee Ernie Ford, Here he is singin”16 Tons”
In honor of my father I continue to do my political activist work. He lived full-out. That's what I intend to do.
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I'm open to whatever life sends my way. Just like truth, hope never dies. I don't know what is in store for my family. But I remain ready to welcome any goodness and truth.
I love my life. I love where I live. And I am passionate about my passions. I love to dance. Necessary to live: music, piano, singing, writing, acting, painting.
I have been fighting for and supporting the arts all my adult life. Since 2004, I have been working with other activists to end the Darfur genocide.
I have traveled to Europe many times since my early twenties. Places I have been: many USA states including Hawaii, Montreal, Canada, Barbados, France, Spain, Luxembourg, England, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, Greece and Germany - and have wonderful memories.
My last trip was in May - June 2013 to Spain.
I would like to travel to Europe and Kyoto, Japan.
I love the southwest where I have visited Hopi, Navajo, Zia and San Idlefonso potters.
Life is exciting and I intend to live it full-out to the end.
B.S. and M.M., both in music
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Khartoum, Sudan Stop Genocide Time
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RAFA NADAL -BRING BACK LONG PANTS - SLEEVELESS TOPS
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Darfur - The Abandoned Genocide - a video by Sandra Hammel
Want to help? Call 1~800~GENOCIDE
"May I Suggest" by Susan Werner
Satchita - Playing for Change
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Genocide is not only a word,
it is crying of the whole human race.
There is nothing redeeming about being silent
when speaking up is the humane thing to do.
The honor and integrity of the human race is at stake.
Like many of you, I have recently been deeply affected by the terrible suffering of the people of Darfur, Sudan. Over the last two years, over 380,000 people have died, and 2 million driven from their homes by a brutal campaign of repression by the Sudanese government. Darfur's women have been targeted for systematic rape and brutality.
Youtube has made this video a "featured video" under two categories as of today: ilovemylife and Heath Ledger.