Patchwork Prose and Verse
In Dad’s final days, he was full of metaphors about life experiences and advice. Here, he shares what to do when we fumble the ball, after referencing the iconic high school yearbook photograph of him in the end zone, midair, arms up, eyes focused, reaching for the football.
The Plays You Fumble
you can’t catch every
pass but it doesn’t matter
the next play matters
when you drop one, you
get another chance
This month, I’m sharing stories I captured on audio in the final days of Dad’s life. There were funny moments, serious moments, sad moments – – all of them with levity and meaning. In today’s audio below, listen for the phrase “the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.” Translation: someone passed every level of acceptance and had made it to the inner circle of the Haynes family. While every family has its way of declaring their acceptance of a new member of the fold, this was Dad’s – – and, of course, we as his children had to get through the tests of our own spouses’ families’ gate keeping systems, too.
At our family dinner following the graveside burial, all in attendance were invited to share stories. My husband, eyes brimming with tears as they often do when something hits deep, stood and shared the story of the day he’d “done the old-fashioned thing and asked Felix if he could marry his daughter.” He described the scene: there they were, standing at the top of the dock along the Sapelo River, Spanish Moss gently blowing in the limbs of the Live Oaks, where Briar had expected it to be just him and Felix.
Only it wasn’t.
Felix was “the easy one to get by,” he shared. Miriam……..not so much. But there he was, face to face Felix AND with Miriam and all her intuition, when Dad looked over at Mom and saw that Briar got a passing score – so Dad gave Briar his blessing with two conditions: 1) “get your arms around the kids;” and 2) “encourage Kim to finish her doctoral program.” Briar had just received the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.
He was in! And 17 years into our marriage, Briar has done both of the things my father asked of him – the kids love him, and I finished my doctoral program, ten months after Mom died of complications from Parkinson’s Disease. Even though she wasn’t physically present to see these things happen, somehow I know she knew. She knows everything, still.
Fast forward to June 2025. In the hospital room with Felix were Ken and Jennifer and I. Somewhere between Heaven and Earth, Mom stepped from behind the veil to join Dad and deliver a message to Ken and Jennifer through Dad’s words.
Did Jennifer get the Haynes family’s Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval?
She got The Grand Slam Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval!
Listen above for
the Good Housekeeping Seal of
Approval: She’s in!
Bottom of the ninth,
bases loaded with Felix,
Miriam, and Kim,
and Ken hits a Grand
Slam homerun with his choice of
a winning soul mate!
Today is Slice of Life Tuesday, and we’re writing to a prompt shared by Jenna Komarin: “The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next.” — Ursula K. Le Guin
That quote aptly describes the past six weeks, from the time my father took a steep nosedive the last week of May after finishing chemotherapy treatments and died of complications from Pulmonary Fibrosis on Friday, June 13. Even though there was a known certainty in the dense fog of uncertainty, the glimmer of hope in the uncertainty is what kept us all going.
Throughout the month of July, I’ll be using Dad’s stories I captured in the final weeks of his life to share poems about things that were on his mind – and I’m using the actual words from recorded audio, preserving the wording the way he spun it. I’m grateful to my friend Janette Bradley for sharing the idea to record these conversations to play again whenever I need to hear his voice.
When my brother Ken and I were there with Dad as he was rapidly deteriorating, we asked him to tell stories of family and his younger days to pass the time and keep his (and our) mind off the endless waiting and dreadful reality as things kept taking turn after turn like some sputtering single-plane engine spinning wildly out of control before the crash. It took some effort through broken breaths and the din of the oxygen machine that reminded me so much of a noisy generator, but he managed to share priceless treasures full of nuggets of wisdom from a life well lived with rich descriptions of family and friends from long ago.
In one story, he spoke an unintended haiku about his mother out of thin air. He told us, “Your grandmother said, ‘we dig our graves with our teeth,’ and she was not wrong.” I counted the syllables and captured the wisdom that he was sharing with his children ~ wisdom that his grandchildren and great grandchildren will appreciate in the coming years as they continue to remember Dad. Even when – – no, especially when – – life feels so uncertain.
Media Clip: Dad Telling About His Mother’s Sayings
Dad’s Thin Air Haiku
your grandmother said
we dig our graves with our teeth
and she was not wrong
Note: My grandmother’s quote is attributed to Thomas Moffett, a physician from the 1600s, and later to Thomas Edison, who often gets credited as the originator.
The last person to see our father alive who knew him was Nick Doster.
My brother Ken and I had been trying to keep vigil next to Dad’s bedside so that he didn’t die alone in a room, but the hospice nurse urged us to go take showers and grab an hour or so of sleep when we’d become too exhausted. Some patients look for those moments to die alone, preferring not to have loved ones near in their final moments, she’d assured us. We knew the time was close, too, because just that afternoon Dad had begun the conversations with the others not of this world, but with whom he was having undeterminable conversations and for whom he was reaching.
Nick Doster and Dad had traveled to Wrigley Field in Chicago to see the Cubs play several years back, and shared a deep love of all things sports. So it was no surprise that when Nick showed up in the remaining hours of Dad’s life with a red Georgia Bulldogs hat, Dad found strength for an appreciative smile.
Imagine our bittersweet sadness when the call came at 4 a.m. that Dad had passed. We felt the grief of the loss and the joy of the release of all pain and suffering from this earthly realm into the Heaven he preached about all his life. Now. Imagine us walking into that Hospice room to spend time prior to the funeral home coming for the body.
Take all the time you need, the hospice nurse offered.
Imagine us opening that wide door one last time and looking at the bed, only to see a bright yellow blanket embroidered with Psalm 119:76 in black stitching on one corner covering Dad’s body – the sunshine of Heaven. And imagine a face at total peace, no wires or tubes protruding, no oxygen machine droning, the red hat still on his head against the stark white of the pillow.
My brother and I agreed – – he wears the hat to Heaven. We know it will be the perfect complement to his black doctoral robe with the velvet on the sleeves and the red piping. Above all, we know it will bring smiles to those who will come for visitation to see that Dad, ever the champion of going as far as one can go with education and cheering as strong as one can cheer for the Georgia Bulldogs, can still cause a stirring of hearts.
Imagine the grief
Imagine the laughter
Imagine the joy
This is a time of reorienting after the loss of my father on Friday, June 13. He was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis four years ago, and with both prostate and colon cancers in the past year. He began to suffer from SVTs, a heart arrhythmia that mimics a heart attack, because of the cardiopulmonary functions working in tandem with lack of oxygen from the lungs to the heart. In other words, the lungs weakened too much to support the heart, and with the chemo cocktail on his frailty, he didn’t have anything to fight with as he reflected on his choice.
These past three weeks have been a blur, since things took a steep nose dive the Tuesday after Memorial Day. He was transported by ambulance to the hospital, on to a rehab center, back to the hospital, back to the rehab center, and back to the hospital and then a hospice facility. He never returned home, his beloved dog Kona left there to wonder what happened to him. Within hours of his first ambulance ride, one of his many dog park friends came to get Kona and will keep her as her own, assuring both Dad and us that as long as she has Kona, she will have a part of Dad; we’ve arranged for Kona to see his body at the funeral home so that she understands he did not abandon her by choice. The blanket provided by hospice covering Dad during his ride to the funeral home was not laundered at my brother’s and my request – – this will be a gift for Kona. We hope it holds Dad’s scent for her forever.
These weeks have been filled with frustration, sorrow, laughter, denial, peace, acceptance, silence, noise, unforgettable moments, and hundreds of friends and family reaching out from across the miles to get the daily update and express their condolences. His grandchildren and great grandchildren who had traveled from as far away as Nevada to say goodbye arrived in intervals on Friday, just a few hours too late – – but we know Dad left on his own terms, and we believe he did so to keep their memories of him as they knew him in healthier days. Sunday was our first Father’s Day without our patriarch.
And now, our father – pastor, friend, brother, and legend – has reunited with our mother in heaven. We celebrate them and know they are at peace, and we lay him to rest on Saturday in Christ Church Cemetery on St. Simons Island right next to her, where she has been waiting since December 2015. So many stories have been lived and shared over these past few weeks, and there will be so many more as we navigate the days ahead – – stories and events that Dad continually referred to as the serendipitous steering currents of the spirit. His service will be live streamed on St. Simons Island First Baptist Church Youtube channel at 1:00 Saturday, June 21 for any of his friends who are reading and would like to attend virtually.
serendipitous
steering currents, Dad reminds,
are of the spirit
We anticipate and welcome these moments, and we’re on the lookout for every sign and every miracle that we know will be divinely channeled our way from Heaven.
Goodbye, Dad. Until we meet again.
I find inspiration in the lids of the yogurt I eat. I buy this brand not just because it’s delicious, but for the messages and the pure glass containers that will root new plant life for me to share with friends. Here is a poem inspired by Say Oui to Time Off!
Say Yes
we said yes because
what we know about us
is that we like a big window
and gray and white
and newness and matching
towels and linens
not odd assortments
and light,
plenty of light
and good music speakers
front, back, and outside
for good 70s tunes
and fifteen trips to France but
not going there
instead, staying close to home
but still away, oui?
and time off
to enjoy it
We’re the world’s biggest YouTubers.
And by YouTubers, I don’t mean the kind that make videos and upload them, exposing every detail of our lives in the process, right down to how we organize our underwear in the drawers of our camper that we sold at the beginning of the month like some adventurers do.
I mean the kind that pretty much every weekday evening are checking for the latest posts from the people we follow. So when my slicing time from 7:56-8:27 rolls around, I’m usually just finishing the Wordle and getting ready to start the latest video from Keep Your Daydream or Turner Max Adventures or Randi’s Adventures. I’ve already watched and rewatched Plant Vibrations With Devin Wallien right when I got home and finished taking the dogs out and watering plants (Devin’s recent Houseplant Tour – 125 is my current favorite, and I’ll watch that one on repeat practically).
We have our fixed routine about it, too, like most other old people. We come in, change into t-shirts and pajama pants, empty our lunchboxes, figure out what’s for dinner, and then one of us will start the teapot for our evening hot tea during this time of the day. We decide together what kind of tea we want, and rarely do we have two different kinds. Usually it’s green tea, but sometimes we go all out and have black tea or white tea. On nights when we really feel like getting wild, we have spiced tea.
I’m always the tea fixer, but either one of us might hit the button to start the electric kettle after we decide which kind to have. That’s important because we need to know whether to hit the button for green tea at that exact temperature, black for that temperature, or white for that temperature. It matters.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure when I switched us over to drinking more green tea whether my husband would buy in, but he has.
Want to know when I knew it for sure? It happened one afternoon when I’d started the evening tea ritual a little earlier than usual because I was feeling chilly. He hadn’t even emptied his lunchbox yet, and already I was stirring the honey in his tea.
I heard him mutter something about meaning to cut something back. He took his tea and disappeared through the garage door. Next thing I knew, I heard the tractor coming from the barn and looked out and saw him coming across the yard – – with his tea! On the tractor!
And that’s when I knew I had a serious tea drinker on my hands.
I laughed so hard. It brought back memories of The Art of Racing in the Rain when that French racecar driver was in a race sipping on his espresso like there was nothing to winning a race. Here was my backwoods country husband still in his work clothes, on his tractor, sipping his evening tea, and here I stood laughing from the living room window and loving him so much because this is the life partner I’ve always wanted to be surrounded by trees with. In a house on a farm on the backside of nowhere where there is so much simple life to count on and celebrate at the end of the day.
Today is our anniversary,
and I’ll tell him
just what I tell him every day: that I love him.
and what I love most is knowing
that at the end of it
we’ll be right here in our chairs
sipping tea together
Living life on the edge!
Cheers!
long walk after work
out on the farm with the boys
we love exploring!
I come home tired at the start of the work week, which almost always starts out in high gear. All day, I look forward to returning home with the dogs and being able to put on a pair of sweatpants and go for a walk with them. More and more, my heart stays right here on this farm even though my mind and body go to work.
I gather Fitz’s leash from the basket by the front door – the only one of my trio who will chase a critter into the woods and completely lose his way back. Boo Radley and Ollie only lose their minds with excitement to get out the door as we prepare to take to the trails my husband keeps cut back just for us. It’s my slicing time today, my 31 minutes between 5:48 and 6:19, just before dinner, and the boys and I step out into the still-chilly damp air and hear the birdsong. Except for the occasional airplane, it’s all we hear other than our own footsteps.
It’s peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that I could take the rest of the school year and just take walks instead of going to work, where the phones forever ring, the meetings never stop, and even the delightful sounds of laughter are still…..well, noise.
I signed my contract for another year, and by December of this year I’ll know whether I will pursue retirement starting 26-27 or hang in there for another year on the heels of the coming one.
So much is changing in the world of education, and at times it seems overwhelming to keep up. It seems there is no “staying ahead of the curve,” as there used to be.
The more I take long walks and feel the inner joy of the peace it brings just being home, the stronger the chances of retiring next year. I want to read more than I have the time to read as it is now. I want to take long walks with the dogs in the late morning. I want to press plants and decoupage them onto candles, to sew soft flannel rag quilts in light pastel patterns, to visit grandchildren and have lunch with retired friends…….to bake, to work the crossword puzzle every afternoon, and to get started on some writing projects that work leaves no time to enjoy. I want to think less each night about what I’ll wear the next day based on which meetings are on the calendar.
How does one know when it’s time to turn in the keys and sign on the dotted retirement line? If you’re retired, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one. On one hand, I feel ready – – even past ready. On the other hand, it all seems so final to walk away from a career in education when that has been my life.
I would love for you to share your perspectives with me. What are your best tips and pointers, and your best advice for someone considering taking the leap?
Amber from Oklahoma is our host today for the fourth day of the February Open Write. She inspires us to write observational haikus, just as the main character in Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo does. You can read Amber’s full prompt and the poems of others here.
life rhythms in taps
fingers counting syllables
taking it all in
making sense this way
of all that’s illogical
poems can do that
This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2020), and in Chapter 4 which begins Part 2, she presents ways to consider mindful giving as we celebrate during Christmas.
Kempson says, “Mindful giving comes down to three questions: whether to give, what to give, and how to give.” She goes on to explain that sometimes, the best gift of all is the gift of nothing (there is a child’s picture book title by that name) – that the social contract of giving is often felt most strongly this time of year when the release is there to simply forego gifting. In fact, she provides a statistic that 60 million gifts in 2018 in the UK were unwanted, according to one study, and that another survey found that six out of every ten gifts given to a sample of 2,000 adults were unwanted. Before giving, she offers 3 questions to guide the gifting: is it mindful, is it meaningful, and is it memorable?
Our office holds a gift exchange, and while it’s fun, I’d lay a wager that the numbered gifts fall into the statistics above. For this occasion, I look at the dollar value and either go with wrapped cash or a gift card from a certain huge retailer named after a river in South America. Everyone participating seems to like this option so they can either use it to further their own Christmas shopping or personalize a gift for themselves – from someone who doesn’t know any of them well enough to give a one-size-appeals-to-all gift in this eclectic mix of personalities that would satisfy whomever ends up with it. And it works like a charm.
For the smaller department sector, I set out to answer the age-old question about the best gift for all ages. Everyone loves it. Everyone needs it. Everyone uses it. No one expects it.
And I came up with the answer to this universal question by looking deep into my own soul and asking: what does everyone need that everyone probably already has but could use more of, where size, age, gender, religious affiliation, and political persuasion does not matter? And a clear answer rose to the top.
Chapstick.
I ordered three dozen tubes of Candy Cane Chapstick, along with a supply of clip holder sleeves I’d seen on a travel blog recently. The sleeves have a clip that allows users to attach the tube to a lanyard or a purse loop or backpack strap so that the tubes don’t end up in pockets, either lost through holes, melting with body temperature – or worse, going through the washer and dryer and staining clothes with petroleum spots like I’ve done so many times.
I grabbed a tabletop tree from Hobby Lobby and festooned the tree with the best guard against bitter winter wind that exists – this universal tiny tube of lip bliss. And here is what I discovered: you can’t go wrong with a candy cane Chapstick tree. It’s mindful, meaningful, and (hopefully) memorable – at least for a season.
Even with all of the thanks and appreciative conversations with people asking for the links to be able to re-create the idea at their family gatherings this year, the thrill of giving something you know people both need and want far outweighs the joy of receiving. It’s the greatest feeling in the world!
