Bruce and I

My fascination with him began as a high school sophomore. Born to Run was all over the charts and “The Boss” appeared on the cover of my parents’ Time magazine. I was so very young for my age back then.

 Who is this hairy guy? What's with the hat? What makes him, “The Boss”, I wondered.  Then I listened. I listened to the stories behind his songs. I poured over the lyrics for understanding. I saw parallels in my own life as I watched my big sisters prancing to waiting cars on our gravel driveway; the screen door to our big 'ol rented frame house slamming behind them as they set their fates with teen-age lustful energy.

In Bruce’s lyric’s, I saw magic in those cars all revved and lined up at the stop lights; ready for trouble; ready for young love at the speed “The Boss” led his band.

And I saw kin-ship between “Scooter” and the “Big Man”. Those two made me curious for so long… who IS this “Scooter”?

In college in Wisconsin, The River was released, and, believe me, my friends and I played and wore that record OUT. My roommate’s name was Sherri, so “Hey, hey, hey, what you say, Sherri darling” was one of our favorite sayings. Sherri and I were known for our raucous bar-top dancing whenever, “Cadillac Ranch” played! Thanks, Bruce, for those wild memories and so many laughs!

And then there's the time my younger sis, Sandy drove across Wisconsin on the Interstate to see me. While blastin' "No Surrender" on the tape deck, she was pulled over by a Jefferson County cop for speeding. Sounds like another Springsteen song in the works.

After college, I became a teacher working in Milwaukee and then in Madison. After work, I shedded my "school clothes" and continued my admiration for The Boss. I dated many men, but it somehow mattered to me how they felt about Bruce Springsteen’s music. If my date didn’t have an appreciation for him, I found it a waste of my time to date him again. Bruce was influencing my life and my choices.

In 1995, I met Steve, my mate. He is a fan of great music, including, “The Boss”. Together, we have been to see the E Street Band several times. At the John Kerry rally in Madison, Steve stood for hours so he would be in the front row and shake Bruce’s hand. What a thrill!

Bruce's influence was also apparent in my own healing process in my relationship with my father. You see, Dad and I had our issues, but as I matured, we were drawn toward healing those hurts. Often, Springsteen was one of the topics we discussed at our breakfasts out. Dad began saving news clippings for me, or would call when he heard about an update for a tour. At Dad's funeral, we held hands and sang, "We Shall Overcome" with Bruce and the band. I know Dad appreciated the sentiment.

Needless to say, my husband, Steve and I have a pup; in fact a spirited Corgi pup; wild and innocent, always searching for his groove, that we aptly named, “Scooter”.  I AM YOUR FOREVER FAN!

By Nancy Lendborg, Lifelong Fan

 

Scooter the Corgi Pup

 

Bruce @ Kerry Rally

Jim & Chi-Chi

8/2/2012

            “…Oh, and by the way, I am meeting Jimmy on Thursday for coffee, if you want to join us…” Sandy let on while we chatted on the phone Tuesday night.

            “What time?” I needed to know, as I had volunteered to do some data entry for Tammy Baldwin’s campaign.

            “1:00.” Sandy replied.

            Wow, I thought, as I mentally looked back at Jim’s past coffee-date records. He’ll probably be late for a 1:00 date, I said to myself. That will give me plenty of time to get over there from Bassett Street. If I just go early and adjust my schedule….”I can be there.”

            “Great!” Sandy is always so accommodating except when she’s not; then she’s so diplomatic and open.

            Thursday turned out as expected: I got to the Bassett Street location early, when perky, twenty year old, starry-eyed, Arielle put me to work stuffing “thank you” envelopes.

            With only twenty five minutes left, Arielle relocated me to computer data entry, which took fifteen minutes of training! Oh, well, I thought, it’s not my job to tell what I should do. Perhaps she’s banking on me coming back to work the computer again next time. Oops! I punched the wrong button, and, oops! Where is Arielle?

            Well, one thing is certain: Jimmy and Sandy are waiting for me, so I am leaving here on time. Arielle got me back onto the computer screen I needed, so I completed five more minutes of data entry, clearly marked where I stopped, saved everything on the computer, and turned in my paperwork. On Time!

            Walking to State Street felt renewing, as so many thoughts flashed through my mind. I am going to see my brother and sister again! How wonderful to have this in my life! I wonder what I will learn. I hope I behave in a way that promotes Jim to release a piece or two of his inner genuine self as we had known him. Be aware. Don’t be all slobbery like Mom. Don’t have a big agenda. Be his little sis. Give him time. Trust him.

            Oh, shoot, what coffee shop, anyway? Well, at least it isn’t raining, so they’ll be sitting outside, since Jimmy smokes. I’ll try “Michelangelo’s” first and go down the line. Well, at least it’s summer, so it’s not too busy out here…sure enough, that looks like Sandy’s slim body walking up ahead. Jimmy is already there! Wow, did he make it fast!

            Jim was seated at one of the outside tables next to large outdoor potted plants, facing State Street. In his cigarette stained but well-trained fingers he held one of his hand-rolled cigs as he shakily drew it to his puckered mouth. Jim was dressed for the weather: striped  Osh-Kosh B’gosh shorts with his signature faded Mexican rug-weave belt, short sleeve maroon tie-dyed Henley, and red neckerchief. His brown, gray, and wiry silver hair had recently been cut, and those sundry color tones looked shockingly attractive with his deeply tanned facial hue and distinct bone structure. (Jim, you look good, today!)

            I stepped inside behind Sandy and greeted her first. “He got here first!” Sandy exclaimed, grinning.

            “Yeah, I really wondered if he’d get here at 1:00; that seems much too early for him to make it. Wow!” We ordered at the counter and went out to join Jim.

            “Debbie is back, and my voice was completely gone yesterday, so I couldn’t even say one thing to her; not one thing!” Jim initiated before we even sat down. His busting out with all that information took me by so much surprise that I wasn’t ready to take it all in so fast.

            “You couldn’t talk, Jim? Did you have a sore throat? Wow, that must have been something to see Debbie after all this time, and not be able to talk to her.” Sandy was much more controlled in her response and quicker than I in grasping what Jim was trying to impart. She also picked up on the importance he felt this information had in his heightened vocal tone and his rush to tell us about it.

            As it soaked in for me, I realized that Jim was sitting there, just bursting to tell us his news! He was holding it in his brain; chain smoking until he saw us, and couldn’t contain himself long enough to even let us sit down! Wow! We are important in Jim’s life! Outstanding!

            Sandy continued, composed, to talk about Debbie, and the fact that she’s been out for such a long time. “It must have been really good to see her again, Jim.”

            “Yeah,” he replied, almost savoring the memory. “And I could not say one thing; not one word.”

            Sandy and I had small talk on our own and with Jim for a while, and then things got quiet.

            Sandy leaned forward at the table and looked right at Jimmy. She told him she had something she wanted to know. She asked Jim how Chi-Chi ever came into our family. “Did you and Dad get him?”

            Jim nodded, “Yeah.”

            “So how did that work? What happened? Where did you get Chi-Chi?”

            “From a farmer at a big farm house; they had him there.”

            “So, did you and Dad go in and pick chi-Chi out?”

            “Yeah, Dad and I got in the car, and he said, ‘Let’s get the dog.’ we went in the farm house and the family was in there, but we didn’t see them.”

            ‘Were there a lot of pups?”

            As Jim paused to recall the experience, his eyes widened, as he answered, “Yeah, there were a lot of ‘em!”

            “And how big were they?”

            “Oh, they were real-ly small (holding his hands out about an inch and a half apart)! He was only about two weeks old; maybe three weeks old.”

            “And, did you name it-who named it?”

            “Dad did; I couldn’t decide for about four days, so Dad just named him.”

            “And when was that? I think I was a baby-.”

            “About four or five days before Christmas or four or five days before Thanksgiving, either one,…it was in Marshfield because it was in the house across from the railroad tracks by the ….

            “How did Mom take it? Was she OK with having a dog in the house?

            Pausing to recall, then nodding, Jim responded, “She said she’d do it, she said she’d do it.”  Then he went on to add, “And, we got him a box; a really big box, (he described with his arms up and out) and we put some cloths in there, and the he stayed in there; that little dog stayed in there only one night!”

            “Where’d he stay after that Jim?”

            “In my bed,” Jim answered, with a reminiscent grin.

            Finally, I got a chance to talk, after listening to this captivating interaction and drawing-out of Jimmy’s sweet memories. “Well, Jimmy, Chi-Chi WAS YOUR dog, so he should have slept with you! He needed to sleep with you.”

            Jimmy just gazed at me and sort of soaked in my words. That’s humble Jim; never getting high on his horse about anything. But it WAS Jimmy’s dog, and we all knew it.

            And this time, I watched myself to maintain my own and Jimmy’s dignity a bit higher.

            Sandy mentioned that she had brought her camera along with her, and asked if it would be ok to get a picture of the three of us together. “Ok,” was Jim’s pat answer after his standard three second pause.

            Sandy turned and asked the fellow seated behind her if he would do the honors. He agreed, as she jokingly turned over her camera. “Now, you’re not gonna take off with it, are you?” The group joked with her as we prepared to pose around Jim, who remained seated. What a gift! It felt like Jimmy trusted anything Sandy came up with to ask from him! He has come so far with her! Bless their relationship! Bless us all!

Story: "Scooter Has An Itch"

  In this tale, Scooter tugs me along on his leash, as he nibble, nibble, nibbles on acorns he sniffs out as we take our daily walk. Those acorns must be awfully yummy! With a full belly and a satisfied grin, Scooter scoots off to his bed.

  Uh-oh! Scratch, scratch, scratch. Steve and I wake up and wonder, "What is that sound?" We creep out of bed and search our yellow house. We find Scooter scratching his belly. His belly is red. Something is wrong...smiley Scooter is not smiley.

  Steve and I must help Scooter. Scooter needs to smile again. What will we do?

Scooter the Corgi pup yips, "I so-o-o pretty!"

  Ginger Scooter took a break from his hard work; at play teething his squeaky toys on his very own blankey. "Sit, Scootie," I ordered. He posed ever so solemnly and still for the camera. Just look at his adorable, tiny, Corgi body!  A gaze at his marbley dark eyes and tender, evenly trimmed brows makes my heart melt every time. And, that black "circus" nose; is it on straight?

  Boy, what a contradiction: such spirit packed into this innocent looking pup! Steve and I became so enamored with this photo, it was destined to become our "Christmas Card"! We felt Scooter was our very own holiday blessing. And, that ginger Corgi, Scooter continues to bless our lives.

Scooter Gets His Teeth Cleaned

The Vet bribes Scooter with cheese.   Just as Steve and I guessed, Scooter's Vet agreed: Scooter needs clean teeth. It comes as no surprise! We all need clean teeth!  Steve and I want to take good care of Scooter. I have worked hard to keep his teeth clean. I use special "pup" paste on a "pup" brush for Scooter’s teeth, and have brush-brush-brushed his teeth.     That Corgi likes getting his teeth “pasted”! In fact, that Corgi LOVES getting his teeth “pasted”! Why? His special paste tastes like chicken! Scooter LOVES chicken toothpaste! In fact, Steve jokes, "Just put that toothpaste tube on the floor, and he'll eat the whole tube!" The trouble is, Scooter only wants to EAT his toothpaste; not BRUSH with it. His teeth are not clean.   So here we are, at one of quick and quirky Scooter's favorite spots: The Vet Clinic. Why does he love going to the Vet? Well, in case you forgot about Scooter's "itch" story, Scooter loves visiting the Vet, because Scooter is a very friendly pup. Everyone there knows Scooter! AND, the Vet always feeds Scooter lots of cheese. Scooter LOVES cheese! "Lick! Smack! Lick! Smack! Lick! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!" Scooter's lips earnestly savor every last morsel.    Will Scooter come home with clean teeth? We sure hope so…

Jimmy's Blessed Yellow Coat

3/23/11

Jimmy’s Blessed Yellow Coat

     Mom unconsciously pushes and pushes at Jim every time she sees him. “Why don’t you just take Dad’s coat along?  It’s in the back seat of my car. I just had it cleaned; it’s almost like new.  It will keep you warm, and look better than that old yellow one you’re always wearing, Jimmy.”

     “No.” Always the same answer. Always, and with that stiff lower chin, evidence of his self determination.  And evidence of inheriting his Dad’s stubbornness.  Jim’s taxi-cab yellow winter coat grows a filthier and filthier sheen on the front all along the zipper each time Sandy, Mom, or I see Jimmy. 

     Sandy and I back away, and stand to the side. We watch the “dance they dance”, as this plays out once again between Mom and Jim.  We know that, while Mom means well, she won’t get it into her thick eighty year old skull that Jim needs his independence.  She simply follows her Mother’s instinct to "protect her young", even though this "young-un" is fifty five!  And, I know she is battling that nasty old guilt about having a mentally ill grown son, that she cannot seem to expell from her system.

     Somewhere along this life of mine, I got it that Jimmy needs to own his coat and his life on his own terms. Maybe my own path toward maturity and the illnesses I have been following have helped me see him clearer. Maybe I have grown to see him through his eyes better because of my conversations and work with Sandy toward supporting Jim. Anyhow, I do have some understandings and want to respect and honor him. I think I know a few things. 

     I know Jimmy’s heart is broken from losing Dad. He misses the way Dad knew how to deal with him when he visited. I am sure the last thing he wants is Dad’s left-over belongings. He absolutely does not want and will not take Dad’s coat. Or other reminders, like Dad’s watch, which Mom also keeps bringing up whenever she sees him, and keeps pressuring Jim to take. I know Mom means no harm, but please…he’s crazy, he’s not stupid.

     Jim is stuck on the fact that Dad’s dog was put down. And his illness won’t let him listen to reason about why. Part of him blames Mom for that, and he isn’t able to let go. He just loves dogs and that's that. I don't think he ever got over losing Chi-Chi all those decades ago--HIS dog. I think when he sees Mom, he now resents her for putting Dad's dog down. It is really so unfortunate, and unfair to Mom.

     And Jimmy needs his independence respected. Sandy shared that with me that this is his top priority. He knows he is an adult, and he needs to be given choices, rather than pressured into corners to accept demands. He operates pretty cooperatively when he is given choices. That is easy for me to provide. A fun challenge, too! 

     And, Jimmy proves he is smart. On Monday, I was just finishing up walking around the Square with my picket sign; Scooter in tow. I thought, “We’ll go past the coffee shop and check to see if Jim is in the window.”  Just as I was about to veer off onto State St., there it was. That taxi-cab yellow coat came into focus.  It was boldly blaring straight in front of me, on the corner by the Veteran’s Museum.  As I started to realize what I was looking at, sure enough, a miracle! My eyes lifted, and I saw that Jimmy was wearing that filthy yellow coat as he stood there! He was just standing there, looking for me! Sandy had told him I was up there almost every day, so he came to find me. Bless the filthy yellow coat.

     I asked him if he wanted to get together for a cup of coffee, and, flustered, he immediately replied that, “I can’t right now.”  I bet he felt pressured and a bit cornered in the abrupt way I asked that question. 

     I quietly muttered, “Well, I didn’t mean right now, anyway. I have to get Scooty home. How about later in the week or next week?” 

     He said, “Uh, two weeks or next week.  Are you gonna wear shorts?”

     I was suddenly surprised not only to have to plan my wardrobe in advance with him, but to think that I haven’t seen Jim in shorts since he was on the high school basketball team. I replied, “I don’t know, Jim.  Pause.  Are you?”

     “Yeah.  It’s gonna be hot then.” Being schizophrenic has its own rules, I guess.  (The weather better cooperate!)

     So, I figured I better set a date before he got away, and we did.  I let him pick the date, time, and place.  (Choices, choices). He paused, and then came up with 1:00, “So I have enough time to get to the Health Care Center,” @ Steep ’n Brew on State, next Wed. I marveled at the level of responsibility and self-respect he demonstrated in his answer.

     When I asked, “Would it be just the two of us, or could I invite Sandy", Jim interrupted me and answered, “Oh, yeah, Sandy!”  He is definitely bonded with Sandy, and excited to see her! That is such good growth, and such a positive sign, I thought to myself. 

     I asked for a hug, and he politely gave me a real one. I whispered, “I love you, Jim,” turned, tugged Scooter, and walked away. As Scootie and I skipped off toward the parking ramp, I yanked out my phone to excitedly call Sandy. We reached the the curb, and I ordered Scooter to, "Sit". I turned, phone to my ear, and, sure enough, Jim had stiffly angled his body toward me, to watch me go. It made me wonder what he was thinking about: Sandy and I and our encounters with him; Scooter; conversation; choices; getting together; taking risks; making plans; love; trust; remembering; connecting; family.
   
    As I described the encounter with Sandy, she responded, “Bless the yellow coat.”

    

Story: "Good Boy, Scooter!"

Scooter practicing his "sit" command.

      The only thing Steve and I could predict about living with quick and quirky Scooter was that he was unpredictable. He was always digging up something new. Steve or I would order, "Scooter, come!" Did he come? No...
    
     Scooter just grinned back at us and scooted away! "Chase me! Chase me!", Scooter's sassy grin seemed to say, as he flipped his head and turned.

     Scooter wanted to be, "The Boss" of our yellow house. Steve or I would find tissues by an empty waste basket. Who did that? Scooter!
     
     So, Scooter enrolled in Puppy School.  Scooter needed to learn about being a good boy.           
 
     Did Scooter become a good boy? What do you think?

Scooter on Graduation Day. Will Scooter earn a diploma, too?