The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse

What now for today

February 1, 2009 AmeliaJake

What are we going to do today in the PBC&R? I really don’t know. It’s SuperBowl day and lots of people will be live blogging trh commercials. Maybe I will live blog the PBC; maybe I will not. See, we are at a lost here today.

Sky’s bright blue and the temperature’s up to the 30″s – so now we just have an outdoor icebox and not a freezer. But guess what? If you take the $2.84 sale-priced Red Baron pizzas out of the boxes, you can get a lot in the freezer in the basement. Of course, you need a good memory to remember which is classic crust, stone-baked and garlic. Oh, well, the pizzas are a “seasonal” offerring at the PBC&R – seasonal meaning on sale. We do keep some in reserve, though, in case one of our stop-ins has the dreaded peanut allergy.

1 pm: Just turned the TV on and there is a movie about a bipolar man on a homemade racing bike. Do I really want to watch this movie? Ack, all of a sudden clouds are drifting across the sky. Last week I watched a movie about a relatively young woman with Alzheimer’s. I felt bummed after that. Maybe I should see if I could find a documentary on contented cows of California.

1;23 pm: Oh, my, although the guide called it a homemade bike, it is actually a bike he is building for himself for best performance. It is a customized bike. And, all of a sudden, as I typed that, I took the idea of customizing my hair in my head. Color is what I am thinking. Hmmm. An exciting adventure, perhaps? But another thought pops into my brain: Think it over. Don’t be rash.

Hello, the guide was right: his would be a homemade bike since the other competitor’s bike was designed by a computer and cost about half a million. So how much can I afford for my hair color. Maybe I should go for a wig . . . or a hat. Here’s a picture of a hat Der Bingle emailed me. We are all almost in shock.

See, we were in such shock, we obviously had no more events in our day . . . .

***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.

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