365 Days Give or Take a Few

Imagine old friends randomly meeting at a turn of the century train station as the steam from the engine hisses loudly with people rushing to and fro trying to make connections or meet family members.  We embrace warmly, and have a cup of espresso in an adjacent sidewalk cafe catching up on all the events over the past year.  We part amicably and vow to keep in better contact.

That's the way I am feeling about this blogpost gentle readers.  It's officially been over a year since updating you, my faithful followers, with all the news and happenings.  So much has happened over this past year and yet much is relatively the same.  I hope you find this blogpost similar to the meeting of an old friend conversing in a cafe with less of a focus on every event and detail, more focus on the big stuff.  Let's take a meandering approach to this update, more conversational and not as much of my characteristically timeline driven approach.

Perhaps the most striking event of the past year has been the passing of Diane, my sister two years older than me.  In late February I received a phone call from my bother that my sister had slipped into an alcohol induced coma.

Although the phone call was shocking, the reason for the call was not very shocking.  Ever since I can remember my sister has had trouble with substance abuse.  Two years her junior, I remember in high school upper class members often commenting to me on my sister's pot use.  I also remember the week before starting high school, Diane trying to be a good big sister, warning me about peer pressure and how bad things can happen in high school, and me thinking this is coming from one of the biggest pot heads in the school.  Of course after high school and for quite a long time she progressed into heavier drugs and as she approached her fifties settled into alcohol abuse.

I have speculated for a long time that this was some form of self medication for an undiagnosed mental illness or from some form of trauma, but the reasons for drug abuse rarely fit into a neat little package.  Regardless of the reasons, it's a disease that doesn't let go very easily and ended up taking her life.

It is no secret that we had a very strained relationship borne out of jealousy and pettiness.  We rarely could sit in the same room together without an argument erupting.  She often lashed out calling Billy and I horrific names to any and all that would listen.  As a staunch advocate for children it was often hard for me to watch the way she often treated her kids.  Equally difficult to watch was how badly she treated mom and dad at different times in her life.  Often my parents would be the fall back for child care and for providing a shelter when things bottomed out.

Why even bring these things up to you my gentle readers, you may be asking.  It may seem like I'm sensationalizing her passing and feel no sympathy.  When Diane passed away, there was definitely lots of grieving to go around.  Diane's children certainly grieved along with all the family members, but the feeling that was almost palatable during the wake was guilt.  This guilt was because so many of us felt relief that her suffering and for that matter everyone's suffering was over.

My parents always held out hope that Diane was going to improve, every conversation from my mother about Diane ended with a similar phrase, "But now that she has a job I think she is getting better and this time is going to turn it around. She sounds much better."

No matter how many times Diane stole from my parents, verbally abused them, or just plain manipulated them,  both of my parents kept the hope alive that she would turn it around and looked for the good in her. I know continuously hoping is a parent's job and I certainly don't envy mom having had to bury a husband, a granddaughter, and a daughter but hearing this from mom was maddening at times.

Were there good memories of Diane?  Yes, to be sure.  Diane was an exceptional pitcher in softball.  She could be incredibly charming and sincere.  She also had an acerbic wit (a characteristic of all the Lewis children) and could be quite funny at times.  Diane kept a clean house, a trait we all inherited as well.  She was also fearless and had very little shame in asking for what she wanted.  As a person particularly governed by propriety this was a quality I often admired.

So, gentle reader, you are probably wondering the point of this missive...what is the moral of the story?  It's hard to say really, I know that I feel closer to my family, friends, and loved ones.  Having anyone in your family pass is difficult but seeing a sibling pass forces a confrontation with your own mortality, a feeling unexpected and immediate.  Seeing Diane pass away, I have reprioritized many things in my life.  I've decided that gratitude and kindness need to be a priority.  It's always fun to meet new people but I definitely have a new found appreciation of family, not just my biological family but my extended chosen family members (those friends that have become my family).

So essentially, no Earth shattering revelations from the passing of my sister but a reminder that we are here temporarily and should make the best use of our time.  Thanks to those who attended the very brief memorial and to those that sent condolences.  Your thoughts and prayers were deeply appreciated.

Backyard memorial for a life cut too short.  

Issy (my older sister), Matthew (nephew) and Rick (brother-in-law/Billy's husband).  

My niece Allyssa, mom, and Matthew.  

Extended loved ones and chosen family members.  

Another big event that has taken over my life for the past year has been the Aids Life Cycle Ride a ride from San Francisco to LA, 545 miles to raise money for the SF Aids Foundation, and the LA LGBT Center.  Both do excellent work servicing the community,

Just after my 51st birthday last year, I bought a bike and started training.  Why?  Many reasons, but now that I have moved to the district office, my job in education no longer provides me with the sanctimonious satisfaction derived from helping kids.  I also have found sitting at a desk all day to have a huge effect on my already ample German ass.  So, fund raining and riding in this event has satisfied my need to contribute and has gotten me much needed exercise.

It also seems men in their fifties around here buy a bike and hit the Oakland hills to get exercise.    Ever since I developed asthma, I was really hoping to find an obsession that could replace diving, and luckily I found something equally expensive!

It was a great year of training with our "small in numbers but mighty in commitment" team, the Oaktown Honeybadgers, "We're badass, but we do care".  It turns out that I'm not a super fast cyclist and I have a tendency to get distracted by beautiful views or cool food stands on the side of the road (these things certainly slow me down).  I am very zen about the whole experience preferring to focus on the journey and not the destination, absolutely not competitive.  In saying that, this past June, I did complete the 545 miles from SF to LA like a boss!

Oaktown Honeybadgers team logo designed by none other than Yosiell Lorenzo. 

Trick photography pano (an obsession of mine, one in which I pretty much make everyone do)  at the top of Grizzly Peak, Oakland! 

"What are these? Flats?" Training includes dealing with flats and learning to care for our bikes!  Luckily Phil is a patient and knowledgable mentor!   

Our mighty mini team, Phil, Genessa and I.

Soap making as part of the fund raising!  Top seller to be sure, Oaktown Honeybadger Soap.  

Tyler joining us for a time as a team member, unfortunately he could not continue as work commitments got in the way! We thought of Tyler often as we rode the 545.  

Honeybadgers, after illegally crossing a washed out road...shhhh, don't tell the fuzz!  

On the way from Daly City to Santa Cruz, a beautiful ride with excellent views. 

Trick photography pano the day before the actual ride started, check in day! 

And we're off, ride out from Daley City was a major cluster, but once we got on the highway things got better.  Still, traveling with 2,200 riders down the coast of California is a monumental feat.  Kudos to ALC for the incredible organization this takes.  

Day 2 of the ride, guess who met me at the Otter Pops stop?!  Everyone's absolute favorite water stop on the ride.  

Up quad buster hill, still smiling, barely! 

Halfway to LA, Honeybadgers Rockin' it! 

I think I can see LA from here! 

The Mini Band on Red Dress Day.  

Our team groupie met me in my hometown of Ventura the day before finishing the ride.  

The Oaktown Honeybadgers finish the ride and vow never to do it again!  OK, I'm already considering signing up again...boy our memories of pain and frustration are over shadowed by the elation of victory and are short lived.  

Post ride "Thank You" party five weeks after the ride at the General's House, Fort Mason, SF.  Nice view, one rarely seen by the tourists (especially with the new bay bridge in the background). 

Great party, beautiful view, and beautiful people with wonderful spirits.  Just a great night all together.  

A special shout out to all that contributed to the ALC.   Collectively, the event raised 15.1 million dollars.  I was humbled by friends and loved and yes, even some strangers contributing to this worthwhile cause.

Since the ride, I have been back on a bike and don't seem to hate it.  Which probably means I will do the ride once again.  Anyone want to join me?

One of our greatest joys this year came in December with a visit from Di Drew, our lovely Australian sister.  Nothing makes us happier than reviving Wanker Tours and dragging a whinging Aussie around the California coast.  This time we dragged Ms. Drew to LA for a few days...good times, people, good times.

A stop at Hearst Castle on the way back from LA...

True mates enjoying a glass of vino!  

Christmas dinner with the usual suspects,  

A lovely family portrait! 

No caption necessary on this one! 

Yosiell showing the love for the first bottle of wine he ever bought...Damn that Di Drew influence.

Another local adventure that has stuck with me for sometime has been touring and photographing the abandoned 16th Street Station in West Oakland.  Urban Explorers (a Facebook Group) rented the station and then sold tickets to interested photographers.  Rusty, Yosiell, and I snatched up three tickets and had a blast exploring this glimpse into the not too distant past.  

Outside, under the train platform.  

An old sign certainly evoking some nostalgia.  

Lovely architecture despite some serious damage.  The station was in service from 1912 until the 1989 Loma Pieta earthquake.  

A grand staircase...

Yours truly...

You kids, stop that messing around! 

Pano shot of the elevated tracks.  Actual trains did not use these tracks, rather, they were used by electric trolleys.  

Under the platform once again.  

As you can see gentle reader, my absence from blogging wasn't due to a shortage of exciting adventures to report.  Now the we have reconnected in our virtual cafe, please know that I am vowing to post more frequently between now and the end of 2017.  Know that I miss each of you and look forward to hearing from you soon.

Much disco love to you!