***Jody Lynn Vance: 1985-2011***

Jody was born at sunrise on a bright, sunny, cold, snowy Groundhog’s Day and from Day One she was a gift to everyone around her. Her infectious laugh and rambunctious spirit made her the center of attention where ever she happened to be.

 

She and her Dad would watch Sesame Street and sing at the top of our voices (and quite out of key) all of the songs. She enjoyed having Mom fix her hair so it was fancy and just right.

As a toddler she had quite an impressive vocabulary and often had a lot to say. One time Dad was headed out the door to go to work and she pointed her finger and said, “No. No. No. Don’t go anywhere!“

Jody was very seldom crabby, always happy and she wasted no time in spreading that joy to everyone around her. Jody’s favorite place was to be perched on the lap of Mom or Dad or playing with her toys spread out all over the floor. Jody was always affectionate, wanting hugs and “moochies” as she called smooches on the cheek.

At around two, Jody’s illness began to attack her. It took a beautiful, innocent child and put her through untold pain and suffering,

I know that through all of that she was not afraid. She had the heart and spirit of lion. She never gave up; time after countless time, she would open her eyes and there would come that smile. Jody lost her speech, but never was at a loss for words. She could say more with a look or a half smile than most people do yakking all day long.

After numerous doctor, hospital, and specialist visits, we were given the news of her illness. I remember that moment frozen in time … it was as if the entire world stopped. It was in that brief moment we both knew that we must make the very most of the time we had remaining together and not dwell on the despair of all of the things that would never be.

Jody was not expected to live more than three or so – but she had too many things to do and stories to tell, so she cruised by that birthday and over two more decades of birthdays, Christmases and millions of smiles and hugs.  Jody was well-liked by other kids; once when she was being wheeled into her classroom at Handicare, one of the children yelled, “Hey everybody, Jody’s here” and all the kids cheered.

Two of the biggest joys in her life were her two little brothers, Joey and Sammy. She would just beam with joy when they would sit next to her and when they began to get older she’d love to listen to them running through the house and playing together. The two of them would start laughing and Jody would laugh right along with them. She would listen intently to everything they did and they would include her as often as they could. The three of them loved watching Saturday morning cartoons and The Three Stooges.

Joe and Sam did without a lot of things that other kids had, did and took for granted … and they never once complained or were resentful of the way things were. That shows a special kind of love and a special kind of family.

As the years went by and the boys grew up into strong and healthy, Jody’s health slowly and steadily declined. She would have long stretches where she was fairly stable and then would become so very ill.

Many times we were sure the end was near and then she would open those sparkling blue eyes and stretch just like nothing had happened at all.

Once she was in the hospital with her usual bout of pneumonia and lapsed into a coma; this went on for 8 days. One Dr. came in, examined her and just shook his head. Later that night Jody’s eyes popped open and she was refreshed from her cat- nap.

People over the years have commented, ”I don’t know how you do it. ”This always struck me as odd. My thoughts would always be: How could you even think of turning your back on someone who needs you that much?

It was always our promise to Jody that she would always live at home with her family and I think she found comfort in knowing that.

But, no one person can take the credit for caring for this wonderful young woman. It has taken an army of doctors, nurses, teachers, aides, pharmacists, friends, and family over the years to maintain Jody at home, and we could never begin to thank you enough.

Jody always kept her head held high and never seemed to be afraid; she has truly been my inspiration on many occasions. When things were gloomy and seemed hopeless, just one smile and a hug was all I needed to go on. Jody will always be my hero. I love her and will treasure the time we had together.

And the frigid air outside – it was crisp and clean. Oh, I just remembered I remarked on an alien quality in it . . . eerie, I think I wrote. Well, it has to be very still for that and such a state isn’t all that common. Just let that eerie part slide to the back of your mind. Think cozy warmth out of the storm. I, myself, now am having trouble doing that because while I was remembering the still and eerie part, I chanced to think about “The Thing” and Kurt Russell and the waiting for freezing in the end of the movie.”

Oh great, now thoughts of “The Thing” – the one that scooted and slithered around, not James Arness’ portrayal of the first “Thing – have caused the  slithering aspect to capture my imagination . . . and I am thinking of cold now slithering under the door. Is it possible icicles are ice snakes? Nah, that’s a stretch. It’s too visual. What’s scariest is the unseen – the cold snaking under door and at window sashes.

How can I do this to myself? Remarking about starting  to miss the comforting coziness of warmth inside in the winter and wind up putting myself in the tension of a Hitchcock movie? Maybe it happened because it is 35 degrees and my stream of consciousness thawed. It is supposed to get close to 50 degrees in a few days; I’ll be awash in consciousness, drowning in it. What are you doing, AmeliaJake? Oh, I’m just here treading consciousness.

I believe it was one small package each of lemon and lime jello dissolved in hot water. Then I think you mixed pineapple, sugar cream cheese and pecans in a sauce pan over low heat and mixed it into the jello. The tricky part was putting it in the refrigerator and letting it reach the point of almost setting. This was annoying. Open the icebox, exam the jello – oh, maybe a hundred times. Then, if you were really lucky – in my case, but Mother had a knack for it – you mixed in cool whip so it would be suspended throughout the mixture as it did the final set up.

All the recipes I have found do not include the saucepan work or the waiting for the almost point of no return for adding the cool whip.

If I can’t find it, Sophie is going to try and wing it . . . and Sophie is nice, but she is not an angel, so we don’t know about the winging it.

That thought made the vision of a Christmas kitchen filled with little Raggedy Ann’s (known as Poo’s) We could get in trouble with Alien Poo’s recipe . . . not sick, but maybe invisible.

Hmmm, have I published a picture of Alien Poo? I’ll have to check and if I have not, I’ll remedy the situation. Oh, wait, there is a picture of her HERE in the last picture next to California Lemon Head. Some other potential Poo cooks are also shown. UPDATE: Ack! Alien Poo seems to be in a lot of places. Here’s another: Right here

Well, heck, sunrise this morning is 8:11. How did that happen without me noticing? Oh, wait, we are on Eastern Daylight Time even though it is almost November.

9:23 am

Okay, I’ve taken myself in hand and made it to the kind of morning that actually has light in it. And that made it possible to take a picture of what Der Bingle brought me from the airport.

It’s always nice to have people think of you . . .

Hello, as you can see, I, Rose, am okay. AmeliaJake didn’t actually DO anything to me . . . other than totally exasperate me. I have tried for so long to help her deal with her blunt personality – especially when it comes to her “humor”- – you know, when she looks shocked and goes, “Gee, it was just a little jokie”

You many know that I and a lot of us here have, uh, (throat clearing) flat heads when viewed from the side. Sometimes when AJ has a hot dish and can’t find a trivet, she will say, “Hey, Foo, (or Woo or Moo or Rose) put your head on the table for a minute, okay?” Yes, isn’t that awful. Then she will tell us it was only a jokie.

Yesterday was just the last straw. Even chasing her with the weedeater didn’t help, so I sunk to her level and posted my view of AJ. It wasn’t gracious of me, I know, but I just snapped.

Sometimes it’s not easy being Rose.

For some reason, I have never had to re-light the pilot light under  a water heater. But yesterday I was faced with the task . . . because I am the resident patsy here. So I watched YouTube and I, the wonderful AmeliaJake, learned all about the access panel and how to do the little “you have to put this piece back starting with it upside down” maneuver. I lit the pilot light. I did it. And, I did it with only one viewing of the instructional video. I got the access panel back on also.

I went back upstairs where Spikey was broadcasting on her Mercury Radio News station that reports were coming in about alien water heaters landing in New Jersey. Because she had the On Air sign posted, I held up a poster that read:  SPIKEY, YOU ARE GOING TO BE IN HOT WATER and she said, “This just in from a trusted source . . . Never mind. Now back to our regular musical program.”

She then took off her foil hat and put it in the drawer for the next time it is needed . . . and as Spikey says, there will be a next time. You may want to send for her instructional booklet, titled Protecting Your Brain Through the Wonders of  Foil. Several different folding patterns are included. Spikey favors the one that resembles Sherlock Holmes’ hat, but it is just a matter of fashion taste.

HERE IS THE VIKING MODEL:

UPDATE: Uh, this isn’t a true update; I started out to talk about Summer and I having a competitive weight loss campaign but somehow it slipped to the back of my mind. So here it is: Summer and I are writing our weights down every morning for a month. She is waiting on me so I won’t expend any more calories than I absolutely have to. This could get interesting.

Nine years last year and it started to seem real.  He was gone; tears could fill my eyes just out of the blue. I talked to my mother about the coming February being a decade and how it was getting harder. She said she felt too nervous to go last year and sent me alone; I think the truth of the matter was that she was feeling too ill, but didn’t want to say anything. Because, as you know, she died in October.

I didn’t expect to be marking this tenth anniversary by myself. I didn’t expect to be selecting her monument. I didn’t expect being nudged to list my expenses so the lawyer can finish up  and close the estate.

But here I am.