Thursday, March 31, 2011
Daily Drag-Referred Pain
Jordi has been having a lot of pain, in his abdomen, since he started radiation treatment. He doesn't sleep well and so what happens is I don't sleep well and I 'feel' his pain and get depressed. This might be another form of referred pain!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Dailure-Walking
I started walking again, with Cleo, in the morning and I feel so much better. It's amazing, always, to me, how much impact exercise has on my life. When I don't do it I get seriously depressed. How easy it is to make me a happy girl!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Dailure-One of Herb's favorite poems, Osso Bucco
Osso Buco
I love the sound of the bone against the plate
and the fortress-like look of it
lying before me in a moat of risotto,
the meat soft as the leg of an angel
who has lived a purely airborne existence.
And best of all, the secret marrow,
the invaded privacy of the animal
prized out with a knife and swallowed down
with cold, exhilarating wine.
I am swaying now in the hour after dinner,
a citizen tilted back on his chair,
a creature with a full stomach--
something you don't hear much about in poetry,
that sanctuary of hunger and deprivation.
you know: the driving rain, the boots by the door,
small birds searching for berries in winter.
But tonight, the lion of contentment
has placed a warm heavy paw on my chest,
and I can only close my eyes and listen
to the drums of woe throbbing in the distance
and the sound of my wife's laughter
on the telephone in the next room,
the woman who cooked the savory osso buco,
who pointed to show the butcher the ones she wanted.
She who talks to her faraway friend
while I linger here at the table
with a hot, companionable cup of tea,
feeling like one of the friendly natives,
a reliable guide, maybe even the chief's favorite son.
Somewhere, a man is crawling up a rocky hillside
on bleeding knees and palms, an Irish penitent
carrying the stone of the world in his stomach;
and elsewhere people of all nations stare
at one another across a long, empty table.
But here, the candles give off their warm glow,
the same light that Shakespeare and Izaac Walton wrote by,
the light that lit and shadowed the faces of history.
Only now it plays on the blue plates,
the crumpled napkins, the crossed knife and fork.
In a while, one of us will go up to bed
and the other will follow.
Then we will slip below the surface of the night
into miles of water, drifting down and down
to the dark, soundless bottom
until the weight of dreams pulls us lower still,
below the shale and layered rock,
beneath the strata of hunger and pleasure,
into the broken bones of the earth itself,
into the marrow of the only place we know.
Billy Collins,
I love the sound of the bone against the plate
and the fortress-like look of it
lying before me in a moat of risotto,
the meat soft as the leg of an angel
who has lived a purely airborne existence.
And best of all, the secret marrow,
the invaded privacy of the animal
prized out with a knife and swallowed down
with cold, exhilarating wine.
I am swaying now in the hour after dinner,
a citizen tilted back on his chair,
a creature with a full stomach--
something you don't hear much about in poetry,
that sanctuary of hunger and deprivation.
you know: the driving rain, the boots by the door,
small birds searching for berries in winter.
But tonight, the lion of contentment
has placed a warm heavy paw on my chest,
and I can only close my eyes and listen
to the drums of woe throbbing in the distance
and the sound of my wife's laughter
on the telephone in the next room,
the woman who cooked the savory osso buco,
who pointed to show the butcher the ones she wanted.
She who talks to her faraway friend
while I linger here at the table
with a hot, companionable cup of tea,
feeling like one of the friendly natives,
a reliable guide, maybe even the chief's favorite son.
Somewhere, a man is crawling up a rocky hillside
on bleeding knees and palms, an Irish penitent
carrying the stone of the world in his stomach;
and elsewhere people of all nations stare
at one another across a long, empty table.
But here, the candles give off their warm glow,
the same light that Shakespeare and Izaac Walton wrote by,
the light that lit and shadowed the faces of history.
Only now it plays on the blue plates,
the crumpled napkins, the crossed knife and fork.
In a while, one of us will go up to bed
and the other will follow.
Then we will slip below the surface of the night
into miles of water, drifting down and down
to the dark, soundless bottom
until the weight of dreams pulls us lower still,
below the shale and layered rock,
beneath the strata of hunger and pleasure,
into the broken bones of the earth itself,
into the marrow of the only place we know.
Billy Collins,
Dailure-Hope Torrents
Herbert S. Heavenrich may have "stepped off" (his expression) but he hasn’t stepped out of my life. He was a strong influence; my mentor, voice of reason and moral compass. Honesty was always his policy, never could get away with anything if it wasn’t the right thing to do. I should never have opened those Hanukah presents early when I was 12!
His example of being curious, asking questions and self-educating has been inscribed. His quest for knowledge was unending. From physics to the physical (he never played football but understood the plays).. He reinvented himself, professionally and was proud of all of his accomplishments. Last year, while in Miami, dad and I went to lunch every few weeks. I felt like a little girl again, I would dress up and I always got to choose the restaurant. Sometimes we'd each order a glass of wine. I think I learned then about every job he had ever had. He spoke with excitement and pride. I don’t think I ever took the time to ask or really listen before.
Another characteristic that made dad truly great, was his curiosity about people. He took genuine interest in them. It didn’t matter if they were four or ninety-four. In the last few years my interest in medicine became his interest. He’d send articles, which had special significance and email me with questions and ideas. He even managed to attend a conference that I had worked on and afterwards sent a long email on how medicine and art could be merged and what I needed to do to make that happen. He was prophetic, way ahead of his time, a visionary.
One of the most important things my father said to me before I went off to college was, “college isn’t about getting a job. It’s about opening of doors, taking classes in which you have an interest. Learning new things”.
When dad had his stroke and the neurologist came into his room to tell him what had happened, “that part of his brain had been damaged.” Dad’s response was, “well it’s my understanding that neurological branches can grow and there is the possibility that these branches can grow around the damaged area and self-repair” You could have blown that doctor over with a feather!
We proceeded to have a discussion after that and I told him that I’d heard a report that neurological branches, in the brain, can continue to grow, not because one does crossword puzzles or plays Scrabble or Sodoko but because taking new classes or learning a new subject challenges the brain’s growth.
The day before he died he said, “Hope I think you’re right about taking classes, learning something new, I think I’ll start taking Spanish lessons”. So dad!
His example of being curious, asking questions and self-educating has been inscribed. His quest for knowledge was unending. From physics to the physical (he never played football but understood the plays).. He reinvented himself, professionally and was proud of all of his accomplishments. Last year, while in Miami, dad and I went to lunch every few weeks. I felt like a little girl again, I would dress up and I always got to choose the restaurant. Sometimes we'd each order a glass of wine. I think I learned then about every job he had ever had. He spoke with excitement and pride. I don’t think I ever took the time to ask or really listen before.
Another characteristic that made dad truly great, was his curiosity about people. He took genuine interest in them. It didn’t matter if they were four or ninety-four. In the last few years my interest in medicine became his interest. He’d send articles, which had special significance and email me with questions and ideas. He even managed to attend a conference that I had worked on and afterwards sent a long email on how medicine and art could be merged and what I needed to do to make that happen. He was prophetic, way ahead of his time, a visionary.
One of the most important things my father said to me before I went off to college was, “college isn’t about getting a job. It’s about opening of doors, taking classes in which you have an interest. Learning new things”.
When dad had his stroke and the neurologist came into his room to tell him what had happened, “that part of his brain had been damaged.” Dad’s response was, “well it’s my understanding that neurological branches can grow and there is the possibility that these branches can grow around the damaged area and self-repair” You could have blown that doctor over with a feather!
We proceeded to have a discussion after that and I told him that I’d heard a report that neurological branches, in the brain, can continue to grow, not because one does crossword puzzles or plays Scrabble or Sodoko but because taking new classes or learning a new subject challenges the brain’s growth.
The day before he died he said, “Hope I think you’re right about taking classes, learning something new, I think I’ll start taking Spanish lessons”. So dad!
Dailure-Daniel Torrents
Dear grandpa
How can I explain my deep care and love for you. Since I was a little kid you have explained and educated me on things I never knew. You guided me through my liffe and have taught me lessons that will always be valuable to me. You'rethe most caring, intelligent, lovable, curious man a grandson could have. You have tayght me many life lessons, like focus on what you like to do and always with a smile on your face. You're the most emotional but caring person anyone could know. You will always be remembered in my heart. Your grandson.
-Daniel
How can I explain my deep care and love for you. Since I was a little kid you have explained and educated me on things I never knew. You guided me through my liffe and have taught me lessons that will always be valuable to me. You'rethe most caring, intelligent, lovable, curious man a grandson could have. You have tayght me many life lessons, like focus on what you like to do and always with a smile on your face. You're the most emotional but caring person anyone could know. You will always be remembered in my heart. Your grandson.
-Daniel
Dailure-Elisabet Torrents
This was the hardest thing i have ever had to write. i dont know who i am suppose to send it to.
love you
Grandpa,
My last words to you were I love you and I would not have changed them for anything else. You have taught me so much about life especially about love. You were the most caring, generous and loving man I will ever come to know and I admire you so much. You taught me how to enjoy the little things in life like good food and good wine. You also taught me how wonderful it is to learn new things and that we never stop learning. Without you in my life I would not be the same person I am today. You wore your emotions on your sleeve and taught me that its ok to express how you feel especially to those you love. I know that you will never really be out of my life because you have left me with so many wonderful memories and life lessons. I could not have asked for a better grandfather.
I will love you forever,
Elisabet
love you
Grandpa,
My last words to you were I love you and I would not have changed them for anything else. You have taught me so much about life especially about love. You were the most caring, generous and loving man I will ever come to know and I admire you so much. You taught me how to enjoy the little things in life like good food and good wine. You also taught me how wonderful it is to learn new things and that we never stop learning. Without you in my life I would not be the same person I am today. You wore your emotions on your sleeve and taught me that its ok to express how you feel especially to those you love. I know that you will never really be out of my life because you have left me with so many wonderful memories and life lessons. I could not have asked for a better grandfather.
I will love you forever,
Elisabet
Dailure-Sophie
Excuse my indulgence but I wanted to post the notes, from my children, to their grandfather, who died on February 23, 2011. This one is from Sophie Torrents:
To Grandpa,
I wish you were here so I could tell you how much I love you, but I think you already know that. To me you are the only grandfather I have known and I have some of the most loving memories with you. I will never forget when I danced in a pink dress on your feet all night and how you always believed in me and told me I could be anything I wanted to be in life because you made me feel special and this is because you are special, I look up to you in every way; for your generosity, kindness, knowledge, honesty and most of all love. I will miss you.
Love, Sophie
To Grandpa,
I wish you were here so I could tell you how much I love you, but I think you already know that. To me you are the only grandfather I have known and I have some of the most loving memories with you. I will never forget when I danced in a pink dress on your feet all night and how you always believed in me and told me I could be anything I wanted to be in life because you made me feel special and this is because you are special, I look up to you in every way; for your generosity, kindness, knowledge, honesty and most of all love. I will miss you.
Love, Sophie
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Herbert S. Heavenrich-Obituary, March 2, 2011
Herbert S. Heavenrich | Visit Guest Book
Heavenrich, Herbert S. Heavenrich, Herbert S. Of Milwaukee and Key Biscayne, FL, died after a short illness Wednesday, February 23, 2011. He was 88. Herb is survived by Jill, his wife of 57 years, and their five children: Hope (Jordi) Torrents, Amy (Josh) Ticho, Hollis (Mike), Heavenrich-Jones, Avery (Lizzie), Heavenrich and Adam (Polly) Heavenrich. He was a proud grandfather to Max, Elisabet, Laura, Sophie, Abigail, Sam, Daniel, Becca, Graham, Lilly, Ava and Spencer. Herbert Heavenrich moved to Milwaukee from Omaha, Nebraska, with his family when he was 5 years old. He spent the next 83 years loving our city, and working to make it a better place to live. He met and married Milwakeean Jill Sherry. Their first date was planned for the Wisconsin State Fair, but they ended up going to a summer stock production in Oconomowoc instead, foreshadowing their lifelong love for theater. Once settled in their house on Milwaukee's east side, Herb, a jogger before it was popular, and a roller blader until the age of 80, ran and skated through Lake Park for hours on end. He flew kites with his five kids along the lakefront, and planned picnics on its beaches. In 1968, Herb became Milwaukee's Chief Economist under the late Mayor Henry Maier and later became Director of Urban Planning for the Department of City Development. The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development awarded Milwaukee a contract to devise a new strategy for comprehensive planning. HUD asked Milwaukee to implement the new design, and Herb carried it out, resulting in a new approach to city planning for the City of Milwaukee. In 1976 Herb joined Anderson Roethle to head up their mergers and acquisitions consulting practice and worked there for 20 years. He graduated second in his class from Shorewood High School, and rarely settled for that distinction again. He was first in his engineering class at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, and the same with his MBA from the University of Chicago. As an intellectual and a seeker, Herb had a passion for writing. He wrote a volume on prefabricated housing which was funded by a grant from MIT based on research he did in Great Britain. He also wrote a book about his friend and mentor Eva Fleischner entitled "In Search of the Sacred." He met Eva when she taught at Marquette University and was fascinated by her unique story of fleeing the Nazis as a Catholic during World War II. Herb committed himself to providing assistance for those with mental illness. He was instrumental in the development of Our Space, a Milwaukee facility for clients in need of a destination for community, companionship, computer networking and employment services. Herb and Jill together were passionate supporters of the arts, and worked to nurture young and developing theater companies in Milwaukee. Herb embodied the quote: "The greatest gift a man can give his children is to love their mother." There will be a memorial service on Saturday, March 12th, at 2:00 pm at the UWM Helene Zelazo Center, 2419 E. Kenwood Ave., Milwaukee, 53211. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to Our Space, 1527 W. National Avenue, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 53207.
Published in Milwaukee Journal Sentinel on March 1, 2011
Heavenrich, Herbert S. Heavenrich, Herbert S. Of Milwaukee and Key Biscayne, FL, died after a short illness Wednesday, February 23, 2011. He was 88. Herb is survived by Jill, his wife of 57 years, and their five children: Hope (Jordi) Torrents, Amy (Josh) Ticho, Hollis (Mike), Heavenrich-Jones, Avery (Lizzie), Heavenrich and Adam (Polly) Heavenrich. He was a proud grandfather to Max, Elisabet, Laura, Sophie, Abigail, Sam, Daniel, Becca, Graham, Lilly, Ava and Spencer. Herbert Heavenrich moved to Milwaukee from Omaha, Nebraska, with his family when he was 5 years old. He spent the next 83 years loving our city, and working to make it a better place to live. He met and married Milwakeean Jill Sherry. Their first date was planned for the Wisconsin State Fair, but they ended up going to a summer stock production in Oconomowoc instead, foreshadowing their lifelong love for theater. Once settled in their house on Milwaukee's east side, Herb, a jogger before it was popular, and a roller blader until the age of 80, ran and skated through Lake Park for hours on end. He flew kites with his five kids along the lakefront, and planned picnics on its beaches. In 1968, Herb became Milwaukee's Chief Economist under the late Mayor Henry Maier and later became Director of Urban Planning for the Department of City Development. The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development awarded Milwaukee a contract to devise a new strategy for comprehensive planning. HUD asked Milwaukee to implement the new design, and Herb carried it out, resulting in a new approach to city planning for the City of Milwaukee. In 1976 Herb joined Anderson Roethle to head up their mergers and acquisitions consulting practice and worked there for 20 years. He graduated second in his class from Shorewood High School, and rarely settled for that distinction again. He was first in his engineering class at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, and the same with his MBA from the University of Chicago. As an intellectual and a seeker, Herb had a passion for writing. He wrote a volume on prefabricated housing which was funded by a grant from MIT based on research he did in Great Britain. He also wrote a book about his friend and mentor Eva Fleischner entitled "In Search of the Sacred." He met Eva when she taught at Marquette University and was fascinated by her unique story of fleeing the Nazis as a Catholic during World War II. Herb committed himself to providing assistance for those with mental illness. He was instrumental in the development of Our Space, a Milwaukee facility for clients in need of a destination for community, companionship, computer networking and employment services. Herb and Jill together were passionate supporters of the arts, and worked to nurture young and developing theater companies in Milwaukee. Herb embodied the quote: "The greatest gift a man can give his children is to love their mother." There will be a memorial service on Saturday, March 12th, at 2:00 pm at the UWM Helene Zelazo Center, 2419 E. Kenwood Ave., Milwaukee, 53211. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to Our Space, 1527 W. National Avenue, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 53207.
Published in Milwaukee Journal Sentinel on March 1, 2011
RIP-Herbert S. Heavenrich, 2-23-11
Dear Heavenrich Family --
I can't tell you how sad my whole family is at the loss of Herb. Brian, me, my daughters (and their husbands) and my step-daughter. We know he was old, we know he had a good life, we know you can't expect everything... but damn! We wanted Herb to live on and on. There may have come a time when the walker, the aches and pains, the doctors' visits, the inconveniences he was experiencing in getting around, would come to be not worth it to him... but he seemed never to have reached it! I think he would have continued his ride as long as was possible, if he had a say in it. What a tenacious and life-loving soul. A model for me and for all who knew him.
Brian and I were so happy to have been able to see your mother and father so very recently in early Feb. in Miami. We went to two movies, went out to three dinners, and still never had enough! I will keep those memories in my heart and mind as long as I last. As will Brian. Herb's spirit was undaunted, his wit, his generosity... He made me a lovely speech on my 60th birthday - which is why (or at least a big part of why) we went down there. I needed to talk to the "pros" about how to age gracefully. And it was worth it.
Then Herbie sent me an email after we got home, sort of explicating the text of his speech... referring me to the full Shakespeare sonnet he was quoting from and to various interpretations of it... So Herb. He was such a scholar -- really kind of rabbinical in his way. And so generous with his knowledge and wisdom -- but always unprepossessing about it.
I'll show you the sonnet when i next see you all.
Also... he gave me some "comic valentines" that he'd found on the web and printed up which reminded him of his youth. Comic valentines (not at all sentimental!) One always learning something from the man!!!
Anyway... I could go on and on... as I KNOW you all can. I look forward to sharing some with you and various members of your family when we can.
Just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you all -- my whole family is feeling the pain -- and sending love and sympathy. And also acknowledgment that you had one of the seemingly greatest dads I've met. Lucky you.
xo Marie (Kohler) and Brian (Mani)
I can't tell you how sad my whole family is at the loss of Herb. Brian, me, my daughters (and their husbands) and my step-daughter. We know he was old, we know he had a good life, we know you can't expect everything... but damn! We wanted Herb to live on and on. There may have come a time when the walker, the aches and pains, the doctors' visits, the inconveniences he was experiencing in getting around, would come to be not worth it to him... but he seemed never to have reached it! I think he would have continued his ride as long as was possible, if he had a say in it. What a tenacious and life-loving soul. A model for me and for all who knew him.
Brian and I were so happy to have been able to see your mother and father so very recently in early Feb. in Miami. We went to two movies, went out to three dinners, and still never had enough! I will keep those memories in my heart and mind as long as I last. As will Brian. Herb's spirit was undaunted, his wit, his generosity... He made me a lovely speech on my 60th birthday - which is why (or at least a big part of why) we went down there. I needed to talk to the "pros" about how to age gracefully. And it was worth it.
Then Herbie sent me an email after we got home, sort of explicating the text of his speech... referring me to the full Shakespeare sonnet he was quoting from and to various interpretations of it... So Herb. He was such a scholar -- really kind of rabbinical in his way. And so generous with his knowledge and wisdom -- but always unprepossessing about it.
I'll show you the sonnet when i next see you all.
Also... he gave me some "comic valentines" that he'd found on the web and printed up which reminded him of his youth. Comic valentines (not at all sentimental!) One always learning something from the man!!!
Anyway... I could go on and on... as I KNOW you all can. I look forward to sharing some with you and various members of your family when we can.
Just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you all -- my whole family is feeling the pain -- and sending love and sympathy. And also acknowledgment that you had one of the seemingly greatest dads I've met. Lucky you.
xo Marie (Kohler) and Brian (Mani)
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