Dad was a Naval Officer so Mom and he moved around with the brood until finally
settling in Alameda after the Korean War. LuAnn, Bruce, and Craig were born in
Iowa I think, but Allen, Doris, and I were all born at Oak Knoll Naval Hospital
in Oakland. I remember the big Victorian at 1247 Park Avenue with the fallen
Walnut Tree, Playhouse, and Homing Pigeon coop in the back yard. It was across
from Jackson Park, and next door to Saylor's Candy Factory which was such a
bonus for us kids. Doris and I slept in bunk beds on the first floor in a little
room off of the kitchen with Mom and Dad nearby, while LuAnn, Bruce, Craig, and
Allen had the upstairs "apartment" all to themselves. Climbing that staircase
to the realm of the "older children" was like a rite of passage into the freedom
and wisdom of age. I was in awe of the space that they had to themselves so far
from the safety of our parents. Craig and Allen had the room with the window
overlooking the Park, where we threw water balloons out of that window at the
S.F. commuters, squeezing the glee silently out of our wide grins while hiding
from their hunting eyes. One time an angry, wet 'suit' came knocking at our
door to complain to Mom, and that was the end of that.
Our dining room table was a gathering place where we prayed
"Come Lord Jesus" together, talked, studied, and nourished our bodies and souls
with the familial times we shared. Mostly, we had to appear well behaved while
Allen entertained us with some antic out of his mischievous nature. He was the
master at agitating someone, anyone in the family. He could just look at me and
the anticipation of what's coming would have me laughing or crying before
knowing what was to come. Somehow, he always managed to get me in trouble with
my reaction to his masterful, telepathic teasing, jab, or jibe. The older
children knew the program that was our family, but Doris and I were the babies
and were fair game. Luckily for me Doris was sensitive and was the target of
most of the teasing from Allen, taking the pressure off of me.
The school year was in California, but the summers were spent on our farm in
Iowa. The farm was both work and play filled with the wonder of life and death
that enters into your being when surrounded with the rhythm of crops and stock
that is farm life. We plowed, disked, mowed, baled, combined, planted, reaped,
fed, and even slaughtered there. We learned early that death is part of life
and it is the eternity of spirit that binds us. Our childhood was so filled
with work and play of imagination and creativity that we blurred the lines of
'reality' and the other dimensions we entered when we were so freely being
ourselves. We mounted and rode our horse, Lady, when our chores were done,
hunted snakes and snapping turtles, nursed calves, and drank in the country air.
We 'swam' in wagons full of oats, and caught lightning bugs while we smelled the
sweet air that the mid west summers bring after a balmy evening's lightning
storm. Allen stretched my world beyond the prescribed borders that society set
with his adventurous, limitless, and boundless energy and showed me that I am a
gift that is meant to be shared with the world, as are we all.
California held endless hours exploring the beach and flats that we crossed at
low tide to Bay Farm Island, scraping our legs as they were sucked into the muck
filled with barnacles and shells. We brought tiger sharks home that we found
on the beach sure that we could bring them back to life, if only... We watched the
clouds dance across the sky in comforting and intriguing shapes as we lay in the
grass talking of dreams and hopes for our lives to be as free and full of wonder
as they were then. We understood that life is precious and the secret is to be
true to yourself while being true to the force that is life. Allen and I were
deeply connected to each other with an understanding I have never known another
to have. He was my brother and soul mate extraordinary.
We attended Porter School until about 1965, when we moved to Lafayette to "the
house with the pool". During our two years there I attended Happy Valley School
and Allen, and Doris attended Stanley Jr. High, and Craig attended Acalanes High
School. It was in that bucolic suburb that Cancer struck Allen, and our lives
would be changed forever. Our energetic, antagonistic, loving, adventurous
Allen paled and quieted. He was ill with that unspeakable, untouchable,
unforgivable disease, the big "C". Treatment was horrible. Surgery scared his
budding manhood and Radiation severely burned his liver. Chemotherapy made him
such a weak and ill prisoner of Oak Knoll Hospital, which once had helped to
birth him, that he escaped in the night into the branches of a spruce tree to
be rescued by us in our station wagon. We hardly spoke that night on the way
home, feeling his anguish that this thief of spirit was taking, understanding
that he had no other choice. He would rather die than to relinquish his freedom
to the cold confines of hospital protocol. We returned to Alameda to a cozy
Brown Shingle at 1232 Park Avenue while Allen continued treatment for his
cancer. Somehow he managed to lift himself through his ordeal with grace and
courage while he wrestled with the monster that is called Testicular Cancer.
That home would hold our last memories as a family together.
Allen was an incredibly smart kid, with both high IQ and EQ. He was measured as
a genius, bored with the limited academics of school, and an attuned Intuitive
Feeler equipped with the knowledge of the Language of the Universe. He refused
to let society mold him into the neat package that this brown eyed boy 'ought'
to be, and so lived most of his childhood misunderstood by authority figures and
other children who followed the Sensing Thinking way of life. He allowed his
soul to hear and respond to others in ways that confused average folk; non
judgmental and open with integrity. He was an Alchemist in the human sense,
producing gold from each interaction receptive to him, and leaving silver where
the unreceptive stayed safely in their comfort zone.
Growing up with my brothers and sisters, sharing, nurturing, supporting,
learning, loving, teasing, playing, working, and living life for the sheer
splendor of it, leaves me feeling blessed beyond measure. It was Allen that
opened my heart the fullest during the time we had together. That Brown Shingle
where we talked for hours by the fire place listening to Van Morrison, painted
into the wee hours of the morning, and laughed at our parent's political and
religious views would be the house he lived his last days in. I was honored by
the lessons of courage and grace he taught me as he I cared for his failing
body. He was the one suffering, but he was concerned for my well-being.
He gave me the greatest gift of all just before he died of complications from
AIDS in 1986. I held his weary head in my arms, stroked his brow, and told him
that I loved him through my tears. He returned my love in his reply. He thanked
me for being the best sister anyone could ever have. I felt the love of God
touch me that night that Allen left this earth as his spirit kissed me with the
knowledge of the grace that is that freedom. He took a part of my soul with him
in that visit and left a part of his for me. I mourn and grieve for my loss
even now, but I know that he is truly free, whether in "Heaven", which I think
is a state of mind, or here now as the soul returned in another body mingling,
here, with us now. I feel Allen's presence sometimes in the glance of another,
a particularly beautiful Red Tailed Hawk, or sight so colorful and unique it can
only be that of a pure soul. Life is eternal, death just changes the scene, and
so it goes round in Sarah s Circle supporting and teaching us all the lessons we
are willing to learn. So, go into the light that holds your destiny with faith
and love in your heart, for today is a gift of pure grace that comes but once.
Love,
Janis