fighting damien

This is one of the photos that Casey and Rick used to announce to friends and family they are expecting.

There is wonderful news on the horizon for the Aldridge-Reed family. Casey, my third daughter, and her husband, Rick, are expecting their first child on March 7, 2014. That day is also Patti’s birthday.

This will be my fourth grandchild and the first one for Patti and me. We are very excited for Casey and Rick. Of course, every child is special, including the three who precede this baby for me.

Since Casey and Rick first told us the good news, Patti and I have gotten a bit refreshed with some aspects of parenting — like looking at cribs, onesies, finding out what people do for diapers these days. Plus, there are the car seats, changing tables, strollers and “prams.” Just today, Patti and I were walking in downtown Buda, and we saw an old-fashioned English pram for sale. We looked up and down the sidewalk to see if Julie Andrews was going to walk around the corner and try to sell us this pram, it was very English. It was dark, uh, excuse me, British blue and even had a safety seat for extra protection plus over-sized English-style tires/wheels that were like the old English bikes — narrow but sturdy when full.

Rick and Casey are thrilled with the beauty of a new baby in early March.

Patti and I have given thanks that we’re not the parents, but grandparents. And, that’s as it should be.

As humans, we can have our breaths taken away by that stroll on an autumn day underneath a canopy of trees exploding with red, orange, brown and yellow leaves. Or sitting on the rim of the Grand Canyon and watching a beautiful sunset that captures and holds your attention and sprinkles a rainbow of luminescent color that showers you from overhead.

Those are beautiful moments and ones we should always treasure for their randomness, but next year there will be green leaves on those trees on that path and the next time you visit the Grand Canyon, it may be overcast.

But the beauty that comes with the birth of a child is forever. For years, Patti has entertained me with the theory that God makes babies smell so good, until they are two, by then you have bonded with them and wouldn’t dare give or chase them away … until they are in their late teens and they are messy and begin to stink. Then, you know they are ready to leave the nest.

Casey and Rick are already showing those signs of appreciating the beauty before the child is even born. Whenever we see Casey, she tells us where the child is in its development (the baby’s fingerprints start developing today) and then there is strong Rick, who just melts when he talks about his son or daughter.

I thank the Lord because these two are seeing the unique and forever beauty of their child, and he or she has not even graced us with his/her presence. I pray that every person who becomes a parent finds that wonderful opportunity to soak up that special beauty.

Now for something a little different

Kevin found a men’s room in the terminal and changed into some relaxing clothes for the flight ahead. After clearing security and getting to his gate, he started breathing a little easier the closer he trudged down the walkway to the fuselage of the plane. It had been a long stressful week, working with his largest client in San Francisco, early mornings through late evenings for four days, and now it was very early Friday, time to decompress on the flight back home to Cleveland.

On routine, shorter flights through the Midwest, Kevin preferred aisle seats, but for the cross-country, five-hour flights across the Rockies, he opted for a window seat and a mildly cloudless day. He threw his roller bag into the overhead compartment and took ownership of 16a. Briefcase under the seat in front of him, he stretched into his seat while others became accustomed to theirs before departing the city on the bay.

Upon takeoff, no one was occupying the middle seat of his row. Ah, a little breathing room. He tapped the woman in the aisle seat on the shoulder to introduce himself. In a very business-like suit for the long flight, Angela was cordial and cool, not chatty. Unlike Kevin, who was going home, Angela lived in California and was going to Cleveland for a talk at Case Western Reserve University on diversity studies.

The food and beverage cart and flight attendants made it up and down the aisle a couple of times, so after snacks and drinks, people were either checking out the changing landscape of the ground below, looking at their smartphones or computers or settling in for a nap for the remainder of the flight. The sound of the plane had become drone-like, dull and routine — napping sounds. Many passengers in the window seats had slid down the shade that blocked the light coming in the window. Easier to sleep that way.

Not Kevin. He loved the cross-country flights because he rarely got to travel by car from home out West. While he enjoyed the snow-capped mountains, he also enjoyed the dusty deserts, the irrigated plains, the mirror-like rivers and the city and town landscapes that seemed to cradle all the geographic highlights.

Once, he flew directly over Pike’s Peak and marveled at how the trees had climbed up the side of the mountain to a point where they no longer grew any higher and the rest of the peak was just so much soil and scrub brush. He even saw the visitor’s center at the top. That had been his best view from a plane.

By now, Angela was nodding off and sliding her head from side to side in her seat. As he watched her, he smiled and thought of his wife, Christi, whom he would soon see and was waiting for him at home in Shaker Heights. He also thought about how much he missed his two daughters, Parker, 10, and Emma, 8. Parker was a pure, long-haired ginger, whose red locks were curly and bounced around her slightly freckled face when she ran. Emma loved Crocs and even had a pair for Cleveland winters. They were both growing so quickly. Christi never complained when Kevin traveled. She knew it was part of the job. And, as Kevin sat there, and the plains moved by below, he realized that his travels out west were, indeed, rare. Most of his travel was around the Midwest, but there were the twice-yearly visits to San Francisco and each time almost a week’s work of schmoozing and working to move his project forward.

While studying the terrain below, he reviewed in his mind the week. San Francisco had gone by quickly, but it was intense. Kevin knew he had to be ready with answers for any questions his clients had to continue to foster the confidence in him as the get-things-done guy and to keep relationships solid. He felt he had accomplished that goal.

While still looking at the plains and waterways, Kevin thought about golf, too. He had missed last week’s men’s weekly outing to go to California, but with today being Friday, he should be ready to go for tomorrow’s outing without the impact of too much jet lag. He looked forward to that.

He relaxed in his seat, and after a few moments he was gently snoring. Not loud enough to bother Angela, but certainly a bit above a whisper. Some time later, he startled himself awake when he heard the pilot come over the loudspeaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching Cleveland Hopkins Airport. We are about 60 miles out. Flight attendants will make a final run up the aisle to gather any trash. Please bring your tray tables into their upright and locked position. We are about to land in Cleveland.”

Kevin rubbed his mouth, ran his hands through his hair and looked at Angela, who, too, was emerging from her nap. They smiled at each other. Kevin checked his briefcase while Angela adjusted her suit, so nothing seemed to be in disarray.

For the few remaining miles, flight attendants collected the trash and stored items that needed to be tied down for the landing. Many of the passengers were yawning and readying themselves for a landing soon.

Kevin looked out his window. A landing in Cleveland was always a mystery to him. He wondered which of the normal two landing patterns would the pilot follow. Traditional approach saw planes line up northeast of Cleveland over Lake Erie and fly southwest over downtown Cleveland toward the airport. This allowed the passengers to see Browns stadium, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, the few skyscrapers of downtown, then over western neighborhoods as the plane approached the airport from the northeast. Then, there was the other approach. Some flights, usually coming north and east from their southern and western original destinations approached the runway from the southwest runway. No view of Lake Erie or downtown.

Since Kevin did not see any sign of Lake Erie, except off to the far north of Rocky River, he assumed the flight would be coming from the southwest.

He rested his chin on his wrist as the plane moved lower and lower. He noticed that the thick woods just west of the airport had begun to thin to just a few trees surrounded by pasture. They were getting close to the runway.

As the plane was roughly 50 feet off the ground, Kevin looked down and was shocked and overwhelmed at what he saw. There was a man in black pants with a white business shirt kneeling on the ground with his hands behind him, as if they somehow were tied together.

In front of Kneeler, there were two men, both in jackets, one in a baseball cap and one bareheaded — and neither of them paying any attention to the plane passing over them. Baseball cap stood directly in front of Kneeler, pulled out a handgun with a silencer and promptly shot the man in the forehead, the blood spewing mist-like from the wound in the back of his head, as if it were red spray from a cleaning container commonly seen in restaurants. The man fell to his side and the white business shirt was now blotchy red and white. The body did not move. The two men ran to a nearby car, but Kevin could not tell the make or model.

This happened as if in slow motion … but in a flurry of mini-seconds. Kevin watched all this from his seat. He started breathing heavy, his face pressed against the window. Angela began looking at him in a peculiar way. His mind was racing. What was that? Who were those guys? Why were they doing this, and just as the plane passed overhead? What had the Kneeler done to deserve this? Who was the shooter? Have others seen what I just saw?

He unbuckled his seat belt and stood up to see if anyone else saw the same shocking event he had just witnessed. No one else on his side of the plane appeared to be stunned.

He tried to form words to draw the attention of the flight attendants, but he was in shock. Plus, since they were landing, the attendants were belted into their seats up front.

He brusquely moved past Angela, and even though the plane was landing, he headed to the flight attendants. They saw him coming and they were prepared to act. As he tried confusedly to explain what he saw, they were having none of that. He was loud, anxious and scared. This was a passenger that needed to be belted in, and nothing would stop them from getting him buckled.

They forcibly put him into a nearby seat, retook their seats and watched him until the plane approached the gate.

As most of you know, I haven’t posted much lately. When Patti and I first started writing fightingdamien.com a couple years ago, our purpose was to provide updates on my health condition after my September 2010 diagnosis of stage 4 pancreatic cancer — and to share with anyone curious the interesting things we were learning about cancer and its treatment.  We absorbed, and we shared.

Along the way, we’ve had some great discoveries, experiences and outcomes. The last few times I reported on my condition, the status has been the same. The tumors in the pancreas and liver, plus the nodules in the lungs are the same size or shrinking. When I was first diagnosed, my c19, which is the blood marker that reflects the movement or growth or shrinkage of tumors, was 149. My doctor at the time mentioned that the average c19 number for normal circumstances is 55. And, he also told me that the number can get very large, too, as tumors grow and spread to other parts of the body. The last two times, past couple months, my doctor here in Austin has taken blood and my c19 number has dropped to 65, higher than normal, but just a touch above normal.

After two years of holistic treatments, nine months of chemo and watching my diet and exercise, here we are.

My doctor says that I am “a walking miracle.” I feel I have been blessed. When my diagnosis first occurred in September 2010, Patti and I were amazed at the outpouring of prayers and support. We reported these in fightingdamien. There were prayers said at a temple in Jerusalem, at the Mormon Church in Salt Lake City and various other churches and denominations across the country.  Since then, our friends and family have continued those prayers, for which I am eternally grateful.

I believe every morning is beautiful and a gift, whether sunny or rainy. I find God’s whispers invigorating and beautiful. Smiles come very easy and last long. I am thankful that Robert Frost wrote, “Two roads converged in a wood …,” and am thankful I have had the opportunities to explore both.

Thank you all for your love, support, prayers and best wishes.

Going forward, I will continue to provide you with health updates as they occur. And, I continue to love to write. It is so fulfilling. We are contemplating making a few changes to fightingdamien.com. Stay tuned, those changes will show up in the next posting.