Make it count.

March 23rd, 1987 started like so many before... But would end unlike any other, before or since.

Eric Mann, my college roommate, Troy Stevens, another college pal and I had decided to spend Spring Break on the Oregon coast together. Eric's father had a beach house in Waldport, OR and said we could stay there. We'd driven in Troy's little ford pick up from La Grande, where we were all in our freshman year at Eastern Oregon State College, or so it was called at the time. Eric was from Albany, OR and Troy from Buhl, ID and I of course a goofy new wave kid from Ketchikan, AK. They were both into cars. Gear heads. On the surface, we weren't likely friends. Not a lot in common, beyond food and girls, but we were all small town boys who respected our elders and possessed a dry sense of humor and a lust for life and laughs.

We got up that morning had breakfast, pancakes and eggs. We wanted to get out on the water but the weather couldn't quite decide what it was going to do so we went down stairs and shot pool. You'd of thought it was our major by the amount of time we spent at the tables in the rec room of Hunt hall, our dorm. When the sun started peeking out and the fog had burned off, we made our break. We grabbed the zodiac and our life vests and made for the beach. It wasn't but a few blocks away. When we got there we snatched the boat from the back of Troy's pick up and walked by the hotel we parked behind. It was breezy, but we were determined to get some beach time in.

I had heard of rip tides or rip currents, but never really experienced them. What they are or how they occur? How powerful they are? The Ocean is? Breaking waves are? We learned that day. We waved to the guy cleaning the pool as we passed the hotel and headed to the beach. We were talking about what we wanted to have for lunch. Another friend, John, was supposed to be coming up and visiting later that day, or the next, and we were making plans of what to do. We donned our life vests, set the boat in the water and headed towards the waves. Thought we'd splash around a bit and play in the surf. The sky was beginning to grey again and the waves were getting bigger. We didn't really notice the wave that tipped the boat. It just came up, knocked us out of the boat and flipped it over. We didn't think much of it. We tried to flip the boat but weren't able to gain leverage being in the water. Eric and Troy climbed on top of the bottom of the boat and I held on to the rope that ran the perimeter. We were still oblivious and didn't notice the rate at which we were being taken further out to sea. I remember dropping under water about a foot and being able to touch the bottom...

Minutes later we entered the first set of breakers. Another wave swamped the boat and swept Eric and Troy off the bottom of the capsized boat and ripped the rope from my hands. We churned in the water beneath the wave and surfaced moments later to find the boat gone. It had just disappeared. The waves continued to crash for the next few minutes, as we were swept further away from land. The water was cold and it didn't take long until I was numb and couldn't feel it anymore. We found our selves in the trough in-between sets of breaking waves. I saw Eric. He was wide eyed and dazed. I could tell he was shaken and scared. He was about 15 feet from me. I asked him how he was doing. I remember looking at him and not registering his words, "I don't think I'm gonna make it." We'd been physically in the water for about 20 minutes by now. Then what he had said hit me, I said, "What!? Don't even talk like that man!" I reassured him. His eyes were fixed on the shore. I was facing him and the open ocean. I could see that we were approaching the next set of waves. The sky had grown darker and the wind had picked up. The waves were getting bigger. I told him, "The next set is coming, you gotta hold your breath and paddle like hell to get to the surface again, ok!? You ready killa? Tell me when you're ready!" (A line from an L L Cool J song) He didn't smile. He had ALWAYS smiled when I said that to him previously. I knew he was scared. I was too.

The roar of the surf grew and the waves began to roll over us again. I wasn't sure where Troy was. I hadn't seen him in awhile and I was focused on Eric. I don't know if you've been overwhelmed by a wave and tossed about in the churn as it crashes over you. The weight. The sound, even underwater. You feel helpless.You wait for the bulk of the tumult to pass over you and you paddle towards the light. Even underwater, with your eyes closed you can feel the the light from the surface and cold that accompanies the dark as you drop deeper. I looked for Eric when I surfaced again. I didn't see him. Another 5 minutes later, we were entering the trough between waves again. Rising and sinking on the backs of the swells that had just pounded us. I spun around looking for him. Nothing. I called, "Eric! Eric, where are you!? Eric!?" Nothing. Then I saw him atop a wave between me and the shore. As he slid down the backside of the wave I could see he was face down in the water. I swam towards him, as well as I could in the life vest I was wearing. It felt like it took forever. I thought, "This isn't good. Is he holding his breath?" I reached him. His body was limp. I spun him around and lifted his head. Nothing really prepares you for what death looks like. I've seen movies. I've seen people die with their eyes closed. I've seen people die in films with their eyes open and then the hero or heroine shuts them dramatically. But you can not mistake the look of a lifeless gaze when faced with it. I knew he was gone, but, I tried to talk to him. To wake him... his blue skin and mouth agape. We were in the water and I couldn't do cpr or mouth to mouth in the water like I could on land. I didn't know what to do... So, I held him.

When I broke from the shock of it, I called out for Troy. Nothing. I tried again. He answered. I was relieved. I looked in the direction of his voice. He was about 20 yards further out and separated by a single set of swells. I told him that Eric had died. Even as I said it... It didn't seem real or possible. There was a pause and then I heard him, "Oh, man." He was shaken. I asked him how he was doing. He said he was ok. "Cold." He asked if I could see anything on the beach. I couldn't. We kept talking for a bit I wanted to keep him engaged and focused. We were getting close to another set of waves. They were bigger yet. I remember thinking, "Am I gonna die? I just watched Eric die. We had pancakes not that long ago... How does that happen? This is serious. Shit. This isn't good." I was still holding Eric's body. I didn't know what else to do. Then, the next set began to tumble towards us... They met Troy before me.

I had swallowed SO much sea water, I felt ill. I had developed a drill after being tossed about by the previous waves. As I approached the breakers, I would stare at them and as they rushed at me, about 10 feet out, I would quickly spin and turn my back to the wave and as it's thunder and froth consumed me. I would ball up and tumble freely in it's churn and then as it eased, I would spring open and paddle to the surface. That was the plan. I was still holding Eric when the first wave crashed over me. It's force ripped his body from my hands. I paddled to the surface. I instantly looked for his body. Again the waves. They seemed relentless. I had gotten to the backside and was again bobbing on the swells. Where was Eric? I felt responsible, somehow, for guarding his body. I scoured the water. Nothing. Anywhere. Then... I saw his life jacket. No Eric, just his life vest. The water had been forceful enough to rip the vest off him. I was in dismay. I yelled for Troy again. He answered. He was still ok, all things considered. Then I saw it...

Movement! On the beach! "Troy! Someone's on the beach! I think they found the boat." He didn't respond. Then I saw an oar that had been in the boat floating 10 yards or so down the trough. I made my way to it and lifted the oar into the air to try and 'wave' it so someone, anyone might spot us. Little did I know, the pool guy had seen someone with the boat that he'd seen us carrying. He called 911. They had responded and had sent a diver to try and reach us. The current was far to strong and washed them further down the beach away from us. They tried, but in vain. Just as my waving was in vain. And it was brief. Out of the water my arms were as lead. SO Heavy. I had hardly any energy. I started thinking about my clothes. I was wearing a t-shirt and a set of scrubs I had 'borrowed' from my mum and KGH and had cut off into shorts. My shoes? Maybe they were pulling me down? Maybe I would be more buoyant if I removed them? So I did. I watched them float away. Piss. My feet began to get colder too. My shoes had evidently provided SOME insulation as it were. Ok, NOT a good move. Then? More waves... I felt like they would never stop. We had been in the water a little over an hour now. It would be nearly 2 more before the chopper came.

Forty five minutes, some desperate and random thoughts, and a few more sets of breakers later, I found myself near Troy. He could no longer speak. He just shook and shivered. Clenched jaw. I talked but he didn't respond. Neither with words nor gestures. His mouth was covered with sea foam. I got to him and cleared his face and talked with him, I pulled him close and told him we needed to stick together and try to stay warm. I got to him and he began to climb on me, he was forcing me further down in the water. He was moving slowly but forcefully. Instinctively, without thought. I remember hearing stories about how drowning people can panic and drown others who are trying to help them. I wanted to help him, but was scared, in his panic he could drown me too. "Troy, you can't do that! Troy! Get off me!" I spun around and looked at him. I held his hands and held him at a distance. We seemed so far from the shore. I couldn't tell what was going on anymore. I could see the flash of police or rescue lights. I told Troy they were coming for us. I thought they had found Eric's body. It shouldn't be long now. Just hold on! As if on cue... Breakers.

When I saw Troy again he was face down in the water. NO! I saw people on the beach. They must be coming! I wasn't sure but back on shore, they had been trying. The waves were now to 10 feet. Too big for smaller boats and the inlet was too shallow for a cutter or any of the larger Coast Guard boats. They would later dispatch a helicopter based in Newport that would make the 20 min flight down to us. I stayed with Troys body. As we got further out to sea, there were larger breaks between sets. I thought, "This doesn't bode well. Eric and Troy are dead. I'm probably not gonna make it." I reflected on my wrongs and rights. My family, my mum, Jody, my father and grand parents. Friends... as the words, "I'm probably going to die," washed over me. I struggled. I just couldn't see myself dying. I didn't feel like I was going to die. I started singing 'Oh, Superman' by Laurie Anderson. I don't know why... and then rain. I felt like I had been floating there forever. I was cold. I was so tired. I knew about hypothermia. To not go to sleep, get naked with someone, all that. But I was tired and my eye lids were so heavy. I was just exhausted. And, the latter bit? About getting naked was futile considering there was no one to get naked with. I didn't see a way out. I didn't like the thought of drowning. Inhaling water. Would it hurt? All I knew is it wouldn't be long. I felt resigned. And then a calm settled over me.  Things began to fade, sounds. The waves seemed to beckon me to sleep. The gentle roll of the sea... I didn't feel the rain anymore. I didn't feel anything anymore.

The salt water of a wave coming from the next set filled my mouth. I jolted alert as my body heaved and I began to vomit violently. To this day I can't stand the taste of sea water in my mouth... I saw the next set descending upon me. 10 ft seas may not seem like much. But if you imagine just your head sitting on the floor and a basket ball hoop height wave coming at you... they seem huge. The power behind them. You feel helpless. Yet, I didn't feel hopeless, even though I felt like I should. I was in the middle of that set when I heard the distant whir of chopper rotors over the din of the surf. Then, I saw them. The chopper swept along the shore. They seemed to be looking. I tried to wave. The chopper passed by then swung around and passed over me again. Did they see me? The waves were still tumbling over me, so, I wasn't sure. As I entered the back side of the breakers the chopper came back and hovered over me. I could tell they were trying to reach me but the waves were so big they could have easily been overcome. They tried to time it, to drop down between swells. I swear I saw a blade cut through the chop atop of one wave... they tried several times then suddenly descended and threw a rope ring. I grabbed it and they pulled me to the open door. I tried to lift myself into the bay of the chopper but fell completely limp. Once out of the water I was dead weight. I couldn't move. I couldn't even turn myself over. As soon as my body hit the deck of the helicopter, I lost it. I knew I was going to be okay, but I couldn't stop crying. The crew asked me the usual line, How many of us? Where? I told them... They're dead. Eric's body was lost and Troy had been face down for a long time... "Keep talking to us, Russell. Don't go to sleep. Focus on me."

Three minutes later we were descending once again. They had found Troy's body and were trying to fish him from the water. A crew member jumped in, put the sling around his body and brought him up. They started CPR and resuscitation efforts. I watched and cried. I knew. He wasn't coming back.

I don't really remember much of the flight other than them trying to keep me awake. But it was such a blur. When we landed, they took me to some room in the ER, I think. They kept talking to me... "Don't go to sleep, Russell. Stay awake!" The doc was from England and knew of P. G. Wodehouse and made chit chat. "Are you related to him Russell? Russell, keep talking to me. Stay with me, Russell." They used my name a lot... They gave me a mask with warm steam to breathe and covered me in heated blankets. My core temp was 87 degrees.

I remember the Sheriff interviewing me. The same questions everyone had been asking. I remember them calling my mother and her voice and her crying when she heard mine. I remember hating being alone in the hospital that night. I called Eric's mother, Janet. She sent Eric's uncle and my friend John who had arrived that day to spend time with us. They came and got me late that same night. The first time I saw Eric's father again, a couple of days later... I'll never forget his look. The pain. And what killed me? I could see in his eyes, how much Charlie wanted to be seeing HIS son alive instead of me. For a moment I wished he had.

There was a girl named Missy that I dated early on when I got to EOSC. She came and apologized for things she had said and done. She said that, had I died that day with Eric and Troy? I would never had known how she felt or how sorry she was. That, really struck me. I carry that with me to this day. I don't want to ever know that regret. I need for people to know I care about them, that I have feelings for them. I don't want them to wonder. I want to be happy. I am happy. I want to make each day count. I remember drinking in each day after that. My clothes didn't matter. How my hair looked? It doesn't matter in the scheme of things. All the little shit that so many of us agonize over EVERY day? It doesn't matter. Things, are just things. They can be replaced. Stop and enjoy who and what you have NOW. Make every day matter. Make it count. That doesn't mean you live it like it's your last and go crazy. You should have every expectation that tomorrow will come. But, if it doesn't?

The year following the accident, I had a real hard time. I was so emotional. I cried every day. Out of the blue. Something would hit me and I'd start bawling. I did an interview on KRBD with the late, great Tom Miller and told my story. One of the difficulties I faced was that people didn't know how to react. Many in Ketchikan read the article or heard the interview... Some, many perhaps, had most likely seen me breakdown at some point in Sea Mart, the mall or somewhere... And they didn't know how to react or what to say to me. My close friends were always there... But some "friends' or acquaintances actually started to avoid me. They would cross the street when they saw me approaching. It was hard and lonely. I understood, but it was still hard. I had SO many differing and conflicting emotions. Why was I alive? Why me? I would be so happy and relieved, then SO sad and depressed and then SO angry. Angry at Eric and Troy because if I lived they should have. They didn't try hard enough. They didn't want to live bad enough... The guilt I felt. The guilt. There had been a time shortly after high school when I didn't want to live. I was emotional and felt ill equipped to deal with my feelings. I thought for the longest time that had I been a tiger, my mother would have eaten me. I was 19 when I thought there was no other way out...

The guilt I felt for having not wanted to live... The guilt I felt for having tried to give up on everything and everyone... When that thought had never entered the heads of neither Eric nor Troy. There wasn't a day, for a long time, that I felt as though I wouldn't have traded placed with either of them. I saw a counselor and kept a journal. I was told about all the emotions I'd go through, and I did. I cried SO much over that year or so that I didn't cry again for another five after that. My brother, friends and music saved me. I stayed close with Eric's family for a long time. I haven't spoken to Janet, his mother in a dozen years. It's been about 5 since I talked with his brother Alex. Maybe I should...

Losing Eric and Troy allowed me to appreciate all that I am and have now. It allowed my brother and I to be as close as I could have ever hoped or imagined. I have wished several times that EVERY ONE could somehow, even if virtually, experience the loss I had. It changes you. It changes your life and puts things in perspective. When I see such twisted senses of self or misplaced value systems that are all about money or possessions? When siblings or couples fight, over what tv show to watch... or what's for dinner. People who haven't spoken to parent's or siblings in years because they said something mean or hurtful... Will that obstinance console you when you're told they are gone? What if you reached out? What if you say you're sorry, or I forgive you? We don't get time back. Regret is nothing to live with. Live a life of love and forgiveness. Not pain and regret. Reach out to someone and let them know... It could change your life. Their life. Even if they reject you or continue to harbor anger. That's their choice. You tried. That is the important piece.

I love. Whole heartedly. That's what life is about. Forgiveness, love and finding the joy in every day. It's not always easy. But it's worth it. I talk a lot about love and showing and telling the people you care about, that you do. Tell them. SHOW them. Talk. Listen. Take the time to look them in the eye and tell your wife, husband, children, mother, father and friends... Tell them you care. You love them. Be thankful for what you have while you have it. I will always view life through the prism that day gave me. A gift. My children. My time with friends and family... My brother.

To those that have taken the time to read this and have reached out to me, thank you. I love you. I am SO thankful for each one of you and my life is that much richer having you in it. Please, reach out to one person. A friend or family member... Let them know you care.

We all have one go at this life... Make it count. Live. Laugh. Love. ALWAYS.

Lost and Found

Jody was 35 when he died of Colon Cancer. He was a fortnight short of three years, my younger. I was 9, and he 6 when my parents divorced. My mother and I moved away to Spokane for a year and a half while Jody and my father stayed in the Tri-Cities. It was an odd and lonely feeling, like I was an only child during that time, after having been an older brother for as long as I could remember. My mother joined the army to advance her career and garner an education in nursing that the GI bill would afford her when she finished her service. I went back and was reunited with Jody and my father in the Tri-Cities. My father worked and Jody and I had a lot of time alone together, before and after school. I inherited the mom/babysitter roll. Making dinner, being in charge of making sure Jody and I got chores done, etc. Jody didn't like that so much and, as many siblings do, would fight with me about what chores and how I'm not the boss and so on and so forth. We've all heard it! But Jody had a violent streak now and then when he got pissed off! Whether that was trying to whack me with a bat or small chair or threatening me with a knife... LOL. Fortunately, I was considerably bigger than he and could always wrestle the implement of bludgeoning or impalement from him. I'd sit on his chest with my legs over his arms and ask, "What is your problem, man! It's not me that's messed up, or you, it's the situation!" I explained that if we didn't get the chores done, dad would beat BOTH our asses! And, after a few times of that, he discovered that yes, diplomacy and compromise was preferred and mutually beneficial. That was when it happened. We worked together and from that time forward we continued to work together. In everything. On everything. We were avid horror and b movie fans. My father got us a Super 8 movie camera and we fell. Hard. We had every special effect magazine made. Rob Bottin, Ray Harryhausen, Rick Baker, John Carpenter... They were our heroes. We made audio plays and would stab watermelons for sound effects. We'd audio overdub soap operas... We made stop motion and blood laden slasher home made super 8 films. They were cheesy, they were creative, they were genuine, bloody and wonderful. Then we got into music. Then screen plays and comedy bits. We talked and shared secrets as only siblings can and do. We had separate friends, but we had many more in common and mutual. It was usually "Russell and Jody," or "Rusty and Jody" if you were family. :)

I moved back down to the tri-cities, where Jody was living in 1995. He was in a play and I went down to see it. I never left. I lived for awhile on my sister in-law's mother's couch when I first got down there. Jody and I started doing a lot more music. Recorded and played live at some body building events and various gigs. I helped him with comedy material and routines. We started writing screenplays seriously. We talked about building a house together. We always felt connected and that we would succeed TOGETHER. We were well suited to work together. He was good at broad strokes and wacky ideas. I was the polishing  and grounding. He came to see me in  play I did, "Shadowlands." I attempted to portray C.S. Lewis. It was a more dramatic role with a lot of emotion involved. I had always, like many who knew him, admired Jody's acting talent. And when he saw the show and came to me, teary after the show and hugged me and told me what a brilliant job I had done, it meant the world to me.

We both admired the other and were jealous of each other, as is often the case with siblings. I thought Jody was really handsome, (my jealousy, you get tired of your girlfriends talking about how cute or handsome your brother is!) and very talented and funny, (my admiration). Jody thought I was really smart (his jealousy) and very talented and funny, (his admiration). My humor though was much more dry and dripping in sarcasm. His, was much more overt than mine, pratfalls and impressions. But when you got us together? And we BOTH had a few drinks in us? I don't think either of us laughed so hard! My sides would literally be hurting and I would wake up the next day with a sore stomach from laughing so intensely and for so long... It always felt like we couldn't get enough of each other. I remember us talking about what we had... When we'd hear other people talk about how they hated their sibling or weren't talking with them and weren't even sure where they lived, or that they hadn't talked with them in years. I remember our dismay. The thought of not being together or talking to each other everyday was inconceivable. Yes we had disagreements. But rarely. Once every 15 years and it never lasted more than a few hours. Siblings share things that no other relationship can. You share secrets and knowledge your husbands and wives never know... Your parents never know... Being brothers, being sisters, those are special bonds and are to NEVER be taken lightly or for granted. 

I remember Jody telling me when he got sick. I was shocked. I didn't think it could ever happen, That nothing could snuff the fire that burned in him. That if anyone could rise and overcome, it would be him. I always flashback to the scene in Blade Runner, where Roy (Rutger Hauer) confronts Tyrell about removing the cap on his life expectancy... Tyrell tells him it's hopeless and inevitable and then offers this, "The light that burns twice as bright, burns half as long, and you have burned so very, very brightly..." That was jody. He was/is loved and admired by so many, he seemed larger than life, or death in this case. We worked and focused on projects between treatments. He and the family moved up near Seattle so he could focus on acting and then treatments at the hospital there. He worked at Zones, computer catalog company. We talked several times, everyday. He'd call and launch into a new comedy routine he was working on and I'd give feedback. We'd email script ideas. He, Niki and the kids would come down to visit family and we'd write songs and drink beer... and laugh. A lot.

He had the tumor removed and was well for a solid stint. And when he got sick again, and was told he had, maybe,  6 months... I don't know. You know its coming. You say the things and you go through the motions. But somehow it doesn't seem real or possible. I was with Niki at Terri and Dennis's house when Jody died. I stayed there for a few nights before it happened when we knew it was close. He slept a lot, but he'd get up now and then and we'd talk and hug. The last thing he said to me before he fell asleep for the last time was, "I love you." Those were his last words. Ever. The next morning, we knew he was likely to pass that day. Niki and I were sitting with him and he hadn't moved or responded since the night before. I took his jaw and started moving his mouth like he was a puppet and was doing some of his jokes. Niki and I agreed, it was morbid AND pretty funny... and, EXACTLY what Jody would do if things were reversed!

Jody was dead a few hours later. March 10th, 2005. I had trouble with it, even though we knew it was coming. I was thankful he wasn't in pain anymore, yet, how? Why? I couldn't imagine not being able to talk about scripts or finish the song we'd been working on. I couldn't imagine not seeing him smile or hug his children or hear him tell all of us, ANY of us, that he loved us. Or tell him I loved him. I had a real hard time for a long while. ANY time I heard someone talk about their sister or brother, how they went out and had a nice time or that they were fighting with their sister or brother... I was SO jealous. I was now part of a group that didn't have one. I was an only child again. I hated that they had a sister or brother to do things with, or to fight with, and I didn't anymore. I would think about how lucky they were. Or conversely, I'd get so upset that they were wasting or squandering the brief time we have, with fighting or bickering... And over what? That they took your shoes? That you felt they always got out of cleaning up or mom or dad paid more attention to them? Piss, blame mom or dad for that. And even then, its stuff. Let it go. What? They said something mean out of anger or hurt? And you haven't ever done that?! Siblings are a rare and special thing... Life is a rare and special thing... I can't imagine being the person who get's told their brother or sister is dead and that person hasn't spoken to them in years over a stupid ass fight over a girl, a boy, words... This is blood. Blood is thicker than water. You can pretend its about being above it or it's principled and they should reach out or apologize first... Bullshit. You should forgive, first. Being above or bigger is about YOU reaching out, you saying your sorry. It ALWAYS takes two to fight. It takes one to forgive. One to reach out and say, You're my sister. My brother. My father or mother and that bond, that connection, is stronger than the words you said, and didn't really mean, when you were angry or hurt. That love and all the things you went through, together... That is stronger than your obstinance. Your anger and resentment. I've said it before, this life is not worth living without love. Love between siblings. Love between parent and child... The love of your friends. They are all just as valid as the love of your life.

I have lost grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends... (more about this in a couple of weeks) and my brother. Jody wasn't just my brother, he was my best friend. It's been 8 years and I STILL struggle. I know I always will. I know I'm not alone in this. Any one who has lost anyone close to them knows the pain I'm talking about. But, I think the loss of a sibling. That's different. We expect to lose parents. It's not a fun or pleasant realization but an expected outcome. It's not nearly the pain a parent feels when they lose a child... I can't imagine. I couldn't bear. But not having my best friend? The guy who has known me the best and longest? Who knew my secrets? Whom I could tell anything to and NEVER be judged? I miss that guy... But I celebrate, and am thankful for everyday that I had with him and am secure in the knowledge that neither Jody nor I wasted any of those days. Not even time can rob me of that. 

Whether you're cool with your sibling(s) or haven't spoken to them in days, weeks, months or years? Do. Do it tonight. Don't wait or think about it. Time is the one thing we don't get back. Life is way too short to live in anger, pain or regret. Tell them you're sorry, if you need to. Or, just call and tell them you love them and you're thankful that you have them. I have lost... But I have not forgotten. I have lost, but I have found; Reach out. Forgive. Laugh and hug when you can, but love - ALWAYS.

For my best friend and brother.

Jody Michael Wodehouse 9/17/69 - 3/10/2005