Family

Thank God for family... first one would have to understand the connections, so I will explain a bit... My parents met while attending Cornell University (they were married for 65 years). Both of them worked for Michigan State University - my Dad taught there for 56 years! And as we all know, my Dad was a humanitarian of the first order... So.... My cousin George sent this e-mail to my brother Paul, who sent it on to me... Hi Paul, Cornell wins the second of their first tournament game victories, ever, to advance to the Sweet Sixteen; Michigan State hits two go-ahead shots in the final ten seconds, the second as time expires, to also advance; the U.S. House of Reps passes the Health Care Reform bill. Do you think your Dad has already been asked to join the planning committee Upstairs? I think I do. Cuz Geo It is communication like this that makes times like these bearable... Thanks George.

A force of nature

Now I am angry. I am really angry. Apparently it wasn't enough for God to take my Dad and leave my Mom here dying of liver cancer, but God decided to take my Aunt Carole as well. This is just not okay with me, and I am angry. I loved my Aunt Carole. She was a force of nature who was always up for a good debate. She was one of the warmest, most welcoming people you would ever meet. It seemed to me that a smile and a laugh was never far from her lips, and I could count on her to find the proverbial silver lining in any situation. She loved music and played the piano or keyboard. She swam 30 laps in the pool every day. She was the kind of person who, just sitting next to her, made you feel optimistic and like the adventure of life was worth the trouble it caused.

So I am angry that God decided to take her from us. Many years ago when my Dad's mother died, he was overseas. I believe that he was living in Kathmandu at the time, working as the United Nations, Food and Agriculture Representative. However, he had travelled to Pakistan to a conference, and upon my Grandmother's death, it was my job to track him down and deliver the news. When I finally reached him, and told him about her passing he said, "Oh. That explains the bloody nose I had last night." It seems that in the middle of the night he had awoken with a bloody nose, for no apparent reason. He told me that he figured that the bloody nose was my Grandmother stopping by to let him know she was going.

I spoke to my Aunt Carole on the phone the Sunday before my Dad passed. She was, as usual, very encouraging, and made me feel like the decision we had made to put Dad in hospice was absolutely the right thing to have done. She was stricken that night, and was unable to communicate again as she was put onto a respirator. The doctors decided it was Guillain-Barre syndrome which took my Aunt. This is a syndrome which attacks suddenly and severely for no apparent reason, and I am angry.

I don't know if anyone told her that my Dad passed away. Did she too go to be with Dad? I am heartbroken from my cousins. Scott, Pam and Marianne. But I am mostly heartbroken for my Uncle Sid, the oldest of the three Axinn children. To have his younger brother and sister taken within days of each other is completely unfair, so I am angry.

I want the sun to stop shinning brightly in Tucson, it should be raining to reflect my mood. But even more, I want to hang out with my Aunt Carole and my Dad, to revel in their wit and optimism. I want to sit at her breakfast table, once again, and have a debate as I sip my first cup of coffee in the morning. But for now I have to focus on the task at hand. I want my Mom to have peace and beauty in her remaining time. I want her to be surrounded by love and tranquility, not constant reminders of death and sadness. I want her to have her beloved baseball games on the television, whenever she is up to watching, and peaches to be in season, so she can have peach cobbler for breakfast if she so desires. And if God wants me to stop being angry, it will be so.

Passings

Within a short time of posting my last blog on Monday night, my Dad, George H. Axinn, passed away peacefully. The suddenness of his passing took the world by surprise. It has been a rough week to say the least. The loss has been felt profoundly by so many people - dozens of notes of condolence have been received by members of my family. But there are some strange twists to this whole episode as well.
     The first of the bizarre twists was that I learned that my Aunt Carole, my Dad's sister had been struck with a malady that put her in intensive care on the same day that my Dad passed. My cousins rushed to be with her, and she is expected to recover. (Thank the Gods.) But the suddenness and severity of her illness stunned us all. I had just spoken to her the day before, and there was no sign of any problem.
     The next bizarre twist was that I checked in to the local resort since family members were arriving and everyone needed someplace to sleep - especially me. Many of you know that my Mom has terminal liver cancer, and has been under hospice care for some months now. I had been with my Mom 24/7 for a few weeks, and had not had much rest. After ordering a meal and consuming it, I passed out, for what I had hoped would be a good long rest. Unfortunately, about five hours later I woke up violently ill from, apparently, a case of food poisoning. Within 24 hours I was once again able to eat a little and could participate in the arrangements for Dad's memorial service.
     The final bit of bizarreness was that we received word that my Dad's dear friend and assistant from Nepal, Dwarika Shresthra passed away on Thursday. Again, this was a huge shock to us all. My brother, Bill said that he was sure that Dad and Dwarika were together now.
     There was a wonderful memorial service at the Southside Presbyterian Church in Tucson yesterday. It lasted over two hours and was filled with wonderful music, great stories and testimonials by dozens of people - and an enormous chocolate cake - which my Dad would have loved. My sister Cathe spoke, and then my little brother Bill. Bill was eloquent and his talk was deeply moving. I was very proud of my siblings. Both Larry and Nick got up and said a few, well chosen words - again, I was very proud. My brother, Paul created a great slide show of pictures of Dad which was enjoyed by everyone in attendance. The Elders of the Church asked for one of Dad's MSU caps, which I had laid on the alter, and it will now hang in perpetuity in the fellowship hall in his honor. It was a long and exhausting day, so I came back to the hotel and slept long and hard.
     I awoke early this morning. I made myself a cup of joe and went to sit out on the balcony to watch the sunrise over the dessert. A humming bird came over to drink the dew from the tree hanging next to me... so close I could almost touch it. And it occurred to me... Dad and Dwarika have gone on ahead to get things ready for Mom.

Daddy's Little Girl

Like most girls, I have always thought that my Dad is some kind of super-human, god-like creation whose main task on this earth was to make sure that the sun revolved around his little princess. Do not mis-understand me, my father was not an overly affectionate man, nor did he ever dote on me. But my Dad was always teetering on that slim line between man and God in my eyes.

In the past few days, I have had some time to reflect upon this and I have come to the conclusion that I wasn't far off in my assessment of his greatness. I had to help my brother make the decision to put my Dad into hospice a couple of days ago. And while this is the kind of decision daughters and sons have to do all the time, for me this means allowing the one truly great man I have ever encountered to slip away from us all.

My sister never married because she always said our Dad set the bar too high, and that no mere mortal man would ever be good enough. (I think she may have set her standards a bit on the high side.) And in a lot of ways, I agree with her. Now I love my husband, and he is a good man. But when one goes in search of a husband, one is looking at qualities that fit that bill, not for the god-like qualities my father has. And you are thinking, "every little girl feels that way about her daddy." And you are probably right.

I have been struggling with writing his obituary the last few days. I write in starts and fits. I don't know where to draw the line. Because the truth is that what I want to say about him is probably not obit material... though I need to say it. And while as his daughter, I will remember his singular wit, his smile, his enthusiasm and charm... there are millions of people in the world who have been the recipients of his good work.

My Dad was born in Queens New York to parents who emigrated from Belarus. Since his very first job out of college, editing the newsletters for the rural extension office in Delaware, my Dad has been helping the people of the world feed themselves. Those little newsletters would help farmers get more food out of every acre, or help them keep their cows healthier. He taught hundreds of students at Michigan State University about raising animals and crops, how to care for the land and get it to cooperate in being productive. He taught there for 56 years. He worked for the Extension Service there, filming television shows that could disseminate practical advice to Farmers and their wives.

He built Agricultural Universities in countries all over the world so that the farmers in those places could learn about ways to grow enough food to feed their nations. Nigeria, Jamaica, Saudi Arabia, Nepal, Kenya, Indonesia, Costa Rica, Chile, El Salvador. Malaysia, Pakistan... dreaming to help countries become self-sufficient... consulting with those governments, as a development worker and advisor. He worked for the Ford Foundation, UNICEF, the World Health Organization, the World Bank, USAID, and many other development minded groups as a consultant, critic, advisor and representative. He was the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization Representative to Nepal, India and Bhutan. He helped India become self-sufficient. Whether you agree with the dietary changes that have taken place or not, India can feed itself.

After my folks moved to Tucson he continued to teach his classes online. For years he made a huge pot of soup and took it across town to his church by 7am every Monday and Friday morning. This was to feed the dozens of homeless people who came to their church twice a week for a shower, clean clothes and a hot meal. This church where one could actually find sanctuary... from the border patrols or the INS, where they are serious about No More Deaths, where my family has supported the Showers Program for over a decade.

There is a sick kind of irony in watching someone who has helped to feed millions, slowly waste away in a hospice bed. I know that the kind and gentle women who are so gently caring for him have no idea who he is or what he has done for the world. So I sit and hold his hand and tell him: "You did good... you helped so very many people... you did a good job... rest now.... you don't have to do any more... you did a good job... thank you for helping so many people... I love you Daddy... you did good..."