sawdust and jazz

four years, two friends, one legacy

2010-08-31T13:08:00.002-05:00

{hi, bloggy friends. i had originally written this to put on facebook for those of my facebook friends who knew my father and for those who went to his memorial service. but i thought i would post here, too... since i did take the photo that is in the "video", and this is my photography blog after all. i hope you enjoy. it is a bit long, but worth it, i think.}

today marks exactly four years since my father died. he was a carpenter his whole life. but he is remembered for so much more. i miss him more today than ever. i thought the loss of him would get easier with time, but i find it gets more difficult. less frequent are the tears over missing him, but more intense are the thoughts and longings when those tears resurface.

and it is days {or times} like these that are the most difficult... his birthday. father's day. holidays. and probably, more than anything, august 31st.

but i rejoice today, too. i have rejoiced the many days leading up to today. the biggest reason for my rejoicing is because i know i will see my father again some day. the second biggest reason is because my father was a dear man to me and to so many, and i am blessed to have such a father. third, he loved me so much, and i will never question that a single day of my life. fourth, the thing i remember most about him and cherish the most about him was that he had a heart for people, and loved people the way God loves people. he had a heart for their souls. the most important thing in this world to him was telling others about Jesus and showing them the gift of salvation that he so gratefully received himself. nothing was more important to him. this is the legacy he left me.

and lastly, i rejoice today, because as i reflect back on his life and his memorial service, i know that the things that were said about him in his death were also said about him while he was alive and still with us. people loved my dad... still do. i loved my dad... still do. he was not a perfect man. he is now. he was not the most learned man. he is now. he was not a rich or even prestigious man... not by the world's standards, anyway.

but what he was is this... very humorous and full of joy. and he loved people. two of the best friends he ever had attest to that in this "video" from his memorial service... i guess it's not really a video, but more of an audio clip with a photo of my dad sitting with the two men you will hear speaking at the service. bill speaks first and is on the right in this photo. al speaks second and is on the left in the photo. others spoke that day, and every time i hear all the audio clips from that day, i weep. i'm so grateful to have these recordings. but for time's sake, i limited this clip to just the words spoken by his two closest buddies.

many of you were at the service that day... and i'll tag you on this note if you were... i specifically wanted you to hear this and remember, and i wanted to say thank you for being there at such a memorable and special day. {if you know of someone who was there that i forgot to tag or am not facebook friends with, go ahead and tag them.}

so many came to his memorial that day. it was a true celebration of my dad and of God, and i will never forget the support shown and the joy shared.

even if you were not there that day, i hope you still enjoy it. whether you knew my dad or not, be prepared to cry... especially if you love Jesus as much as my father did.

{you'll have to pause the music {{to the left}} before listening...}

today, i hope i will take after my father in two ways... carry on his sense of humor and joy and love for life... carry on his heart for telling people about Jesus.

{photo in video taken just a couple years before he died at my mom and dad's 40th anniversary party.}

LOOK WHAT I FOUND!

2010-01-07T15:44:00.004-06:00

While casually looking through my little recipe book, I came upon this. As far as I know, it is the only place Ken ever put down on paper one of his creations...jello, jam, punch. I'm not sure about mixing grapefruit with pears, but, oh well, he was the jello king!

I'm not sure where the Flan recipe comes from. Does anyone know if this is a good one?

takes one to know one

2009-11-27T23:33:00.005-06:00

hey, papa. we missed you yesterday.
but we had a good time, too.
you are never forgotten and you
are loved more with every passing day.

{p.s. remember how mom used to call you turkey?
she still does...
maybe you knew that already.}

JUST ONE OF HIS MANY PROJECTS

2009-11-18T20:15:00.003-06:00

He always had a project going. At least one. It used to bother me because he wasn't available to help when I needed him...like Thanksgiving Day. He was out in the garage, building, creating, fixing. Well, we worked our way through that after some serious, calm discussions. He got to where he was my incredible helper on those big days and he cultivated a sense of when I was in trouble. But, other than that, when he was at home, he had a project going.

This photo tells the story of his attempt to save his beloved truck. How he loved that truck! It was a beauty when he first got it, but it just plain rusted out. So, instead of buying a new truck, he tore off the rusty bed and built a wood one. I don't think this was the last photo of it. I think that he stained and varnished it with some outdoor varnish, but maybe not. His creation got mixed reactions, none negative, but some not being able to grasp why anyone would put that much time into such a thing. His boss, not usually impressed by much, expressed his admiration and that made Ken feel pretty good.

Too bad what was under the hood finally met its demise. There was no retrieval of the engine and the dollar signs won over innovation. It came time to trade in the old truck. I'll never forget driving away from the dealership in the new purple Chevy S10 and seeing Ken straining to look back at where the mortally ill cars were parked, hoping for one last peek. He stuck out his bottom lip like he did when he was being sad and silly at the same time. I knew this was a hard thing for him.

Yet, the day came when he began to be proud of his little purple truck. "It's so much fun...I pull up to a light...the guy next to me thinks that I'm just in this little wimpy truck...the light changes...and I leave him in the dust." I heard that lots of times.

Had we moved to Petersburg, it was a goal of mine to work till we could get him another Toyota. But, we didn't make it there. I can only imagine what he's driving now!

The Night Ken Fell in the Gross Hole in Ground

2009-10-11T21:03:00.004-05:00

For some reason, I have been missing Ken more than usual. I haven't been able to figure it out. Just the last couple of days. I went looking for a photo that needs to go in my book and I got sidetracked into slowly going through about 120 photos I have of him on my computer.

When I ran into this one, I just had to write a little memory thing, in case anyone forgot. I just noticed that in this picture, he looks like he is grimacing. I never saw that before. It looks like he is grimacing because he is grimacing!

The night before, while I was at class at Judson, working toward my degree, he had been walking along the edge of the hole which is very visible, as you can see, and the dirt gave way. He landed on his back on a spike like the one you see in the lower right corner. When I got home, he was lying on the bed perfectly still and told me the story. He could not move. I wanted him to go to the emergency room but, of course, being Ken, he would not go. I am sure he cracked some ribs because he was in extreme pain. Judging from the size of the spike, I guess he could have been killed!

We went ahead with the pour for the addition even though I did not think it wise. He was hurting! But now, the photo just makes more sense. I guess that is why I was out there knee deep in cement by the time it was over, and that is why we called Matt Osborne to come and help.

Ken was tough...and stubborn. When he had his mind made up to do something, hardly anything could stop him. The 20' x 24' addition became a much loved part of our house. He did it mostly himself with some very heavy labor from his wife and from Gaius with the beam. Beside that, he just plugged away and got it done.

Anyway, why do I miss him now after settling down over the last months? I don't know. I'm glad I've got lots of photos.

House Renovation

2009-10-07T08:08:00.009-05:00

I get equal parts sad and equal parts joyful when I see an old man pass closely by that looks looks like my Dad. I don't just mean a man that resembles him; but a man that looks exactly like he would in 20 years. Like today, the old man who cautiously climbed steep steps to the train at my second stop, and humbly apologized, wearing a gentle smile, for almost walking into me. I smiled back because I was glad that he almost ran into me--giddy because he was my Papa in 20 years, and longing because he was not.

My smile lasted until my final stop, and throughout the seven minute walk home. And it was while walking that I decided to post the first of many posts that will take the reader through the journey of a house improvement. Not a home improvement--no live human beings--but a little house renovation. Although, soon, it will be filled with the voices of nieces and nephews imitating scenes of a mother cooking while calling her children in for supper; a puppetry of once lifeless dolls will make it come alive again, as it was 30 years ago.

We were only seven years of age when we were surprised with this well-crafted piece of work, created from scratch by my Father's strong and calloused hands. Apparently, my twin and I were both very much into designing homes even back then. One can see the looks on our faces clearly saying, "I can't wait to get my hands on this...the things I can do with this place!"

But time went on, and we grew up and out of dollhouses. Yet, although there are not many tangible things I can touch from my childhood, this one remains. Thanks to a mom and dad who stored this for all my college and post college years. And thanks to an older sister who graciously allowed it to take up space in the loft of her garage for the past three years. It went with her on a truck from my parents' last home, rather than on the truck to their new home in central Illinois. I wanted it to stay up north because I had plans to renovate even before our Papa left this earthly life. But now so much more, in his honor. Moving from a one-room studio to a 2,800 square foot home allows for the space to not only store it in my home, but to have it out in the open in my art studio, reminding me to get to work.

It's been beat up. It has been through several moves and through the hands of countless friends and relatives, not to mention our own grimy, little hands. Even upon presentation, I doubt we washed our hands after throwing that trail mix we were holding aside, and before diving in. Most recently, on its latest journey to my home, it weathered the rain in the back of a red pick-up driven by my dear sister, Ginger, and her patient and excited children, Autumn and Seth. When I saw it come off the truck, I thought I'd need to call in the Extreme Makeover: Dollhouse Edition team. Luckily, Autumn cheerfully offered her help, which I plan to take her up on.

Weeks went by, and not one tool was picked up to begin the work. Not even a thought of it...

...until I stepped foot into an Evanston craft store. I'd stopped in to pick up fine ribbon for a necklace idea that was swirling in my head (see the swirling ideas brought to fruition here). And as I searched for the ribbon, I stumbled upon a miniature section, full of dollhouse furniture and small items. I was taken in by the hundreds of luring pieces that I could imagine in my new house. I was done in! Ready to spend. Ready to make this project begin. And out of further inspiration, I bought my first two pieces. One was a fine Oriental rug for the grand living room (I'm not sure it's truly from the Orient, but it is beautiful). The other, wood trim for the same room. (Read along on the journey and you will see them soon.)

I rushed home to try out my new pieces. A fine clean rug placed on a dirty, rugged living room sub-floor with exposed nails and dried up glue. Yet, I could envision the finished product, and now I was truly inspired to begin. Out came the hammer, the scraper, the sanding paper to bring that 70's decorated Victorian dollhouse into the 21st century. I was now doing what I love--starting a new project! The only thing I love more is starting a new project before I've finished ten others (like father like daughter). And yes, their were unfinished products in my own home, some walls half-painted, some tables half made. But I couldn't resist. I was motivated. I was inspired. I was wishing he could see me in action.

After scraping and demolishing, and removing retro carpet samples that served as this small home's floor coverings, I began to notice faded penciled writing on the plywood sub-flooring. First, I thought it to be the markings of the lumberyard men who must have written on it to identify the kind of material it was; I kept on scraping. But I began to look more closely, and realized it was not their markings. It was that signature all-caps handwriting my Father wrote with, done with his famous flat wood carpenter's pencil and the unmistakable left-handed slant he was known for in all the love notes he left laying around the house for my Mom and his daughters. He had labeled each room: 'FLB' for 'front left bedroom,' 'FOYER' for 'foyer,' and so on. And at that moment, like held-up dam water finding a weak crack and bursting through a wall, tears rushed from my eyes. It hit home that I was not just fixing up a great dollhouse; I was not only renovating the dollhouse of my childhood; I was reconstructing the exact materials my Dad handpicked and held, and carefully planned to make this gift for his twinines. I could see him planning, building, and stepping back periodically to view his progress with a look of pride at every stage.

After controlling the flood waters back down, I continued on with my project.

I've not picked it up since. But I will. I can see the work studio from where I sit now, and it calls me to it. Yet, I must go to my more than fulltime job. Hopefully this winter will prove to be a good time to stay in and achieve completion. To whomever reads, I hope you will enjoy this journey with me. -Angela

Gone Three Years. Things I'd Like to Say to Ken

2009-09-22T21:53:00.003-05:00

Here is what I wrote on my website this year on August 31, 2009

KEN. GONE THREE YEARS. THINGS I'D LIKE TO SAY TO HIM.

I have a bunch of photos of you and of you and me hanging above the piano. It's nice to remember how much you loved to hear me play and sing.
I wish I could hear you play your trumpet just one more time.
What should I do with all these records!
My tub needs grouting, I need knobs on some cabinets, and it would be nice to have a stainless steel kitchen sink.
Do you pray up there? If so, pray harder!
God gave me a really nice car...but maybe you know that already. I keep thinking, "Ken would really be happy that I have this car."
Ditto about my church. I keep saying to myself, "Ken would really love this church."
You know, I'm getting along okay, but it was a lot more fun with you around.
You told me a couple of times along the road, "If something ever happens to me, Sharon, you've got to keep going." I am.
I didn't like that I couldn't call you to tell you that I hate my new driver's license photo!
I've got lots of friends...new, old, close, far, Facebook...oh, you don't know what that is. :)
I think of you when I read Isaiah 57:1,2. I like the world even less now than before.

Good people pass away; the godly often die before their time.
But no one seems to care or wonder why.
No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come.
For those who follow godly paths will rest in peace when they die.

The kids miss you. They still like your music, tell your jokes and get misty eyed now and then when something reminds them of you.
I'm glad you're safe. I'm glad you're healthy. I'm glad for the rest that God promises. I'm glad you're with Him. You're "lucky." We all wish that we could see Him!
I still love you. But I have to tell the truth...I had to take my rings off because they were killing my finger. Honest! I'm actually going to see the doctor about it! :)
Any clues about the Big Day? Is it soon? Lots of preparation for something huge?
See you soon!

2009-09-19T22:56:00.002-05:00

How timely! I've been waiting for access to this blog and got it today and here is what I have to say: It would have been nice to have Ken around tonight...I got in an accident and the resulting tears had some "missing Ken" stuff mixed in with all the other emotion. I don't like going through hard things without him. It's funny, but this morning as I retrieved a "C" battery to put in his garage clock, I shed some tears. I don't cry much anymore and often it's the strangest things that make me choke up.

Well, that's all for now. I'm going to climb into bed so that I'm ready to face all the accident stuff tomorrow. Ken, I wish you were here tonight...but the kids came through with flying colors!

miles to go

2009-09-06T22:04:00.009-05:00

hi, pops.

guess what b. and i did tonight. we listened to the miles davis sketches of spain recording during dinner. it was released in 1960, but i'm sure you knew that. we talked about you often, wondering if this was one of the records in your vast collection of jazz albums. i thought maybe it was, because some parts sounded familiar. we bought the cd today from borders. since we had heard that it was one of davis's "must get" recordings while watching the jazz film by ken burns, we have wanted to find it for our own collection.

it's one of the reasons we went to the used vinyl record shop yesterday. {going there makes us recall the memory of going to toad hall record shop with you and mom. we've both never seen so many records in our life--not even your collection. *wink*} we were hoping to find an original recording of sketches of spain, because we love the album cover so much. but they did not have it, which is not surprising, as their jazz selection is somewhat limited. we still plan to search for and purchase it. it's a framer.

we will be looking for it in your collection when we go out to mom's tomorrow. if this was one you had, then we will have to fight the rest of the kids for it--providing that mom will let us have it. if she does, i have a feeling that angela will put up a good fight for it. she's got a great spanish-inspired guest room in her place that it would look fabulous in. have you seen it? i think you would like it. when i go stay with her, it's my favorite room to be in. and it's mine-all-mine while i'm there. my little sanctuary. my get-away.

anyway, we had a nice dinner. we listened to the music while eating paella. did mom ever make that for you? it's sooooo good. it was my first time making it, and i think it turned out really delicious. the good spanish food and spanish-influenced music had us wanting to be transported there. b. said, "man, i wish it was the 60s and we could go to spain on five dollars a day." he was referring to his parents, who went there in the 60s and did just that. i think it was the very chic and cosmopolitan thing to do in the 60s--vacation in spain.

b.'s brother has been there too--twice, i think. and angela is already there in spirit. as far as i know, you were never there. i hear it's beautiful, and i know i love the food!

so, back to miles davis. b. told me over dinner that he read something interesting about him in a book called miles on miles--a compilation of several of his interviews over the years. he read that davis used to have to walk about a mile to and from school every day, and at the urging of his trumpet instructor, used that time to practice his mouth technique on the horn by spitting uncooked rice or beans. i thought that was funny. did you do that too?

well, i just thought i would share a magical evening with you. i know you would have enjoyed it. i'm delighted that i have so much to remember you by. when you were with us, and still yet since you've been gone, you have enriched our lives with wonderful things to taste and savor. thanks, dad.

love,
georgia

remembering ken

2009-08-31T00:04:00.003-05:00

{heldman family singing great is thy faithfulness
at ken heldman's memorial service}

three years ago today, we lost an awesome guy. mom, you lost your mate and your friend. nate, matt, ginger and angela, we lost our dad and our friend. i had the idea to start a blog where any of us could write about him, to him or to each other about him.

i got the idea minutes into watching the ken burns jazz series, because i instantly thought about how the sound of jazz makes me feel like i am in his presence more than anything else, except maybe the smell of sawdust. and i've been told by most, if not all of you, that you feel the same. thus the name of this blog.

i hope that you will all feel like posting here--whether it just be uploading a photo, or writing about a memory of him, or telling about how his influence on you still affects you today, or just anything at all that is about dad or for dad. i thought it would be a good way for us to do this together for all of us to see and comfort each other by. i know it has been three years, but it is still hard. i know we all still miss him. so i hope this can be a place where we can comfort each other as well as ourselves, and best of all, remember papa.

i thought we could tell close friends and our extended family, too--not that they have to participate, but that they are welcome to read here and remember him as well. in fact, i would not even mind if others contributed here, too. perhaps in the form of a letter from someone to one of us about dad. or a photo of dad that a friend found and wanted to add. anything at all. sort of like how everyone shared at the memorial service--just a continuation of that day.

i thought it could be for anyone at all. a place where we can encourage each other, but also encourage others--even strangers. the writing here does not have to be toward each other necessarily. it could be written for anyone. that's how i envisioned it. i just wrote this first post to you all so i could explain and invite you.

mom, nate, angela and i are already blogger members, so we just need to get matt and ginger set up with a blogger profile so that they can contribute. then even grandkids, spouses, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews, in-laws or friends can contribute. i think i might also put some good jazz music on here, too. we could put audio clips on it. whatever we feel like doing. feel free to add anything to the side column, as well. i want this to be all of our creation and expression.

i hope there will be tears here--and laughter too. i hope that lots of his jokes will be told here. i hope there will be a sense of that glue that papa was in our family. i hope it is a source of bonding for us all. i hope you will feel led to add something from time to time.

~georgia