Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Sunday, July 6, 2014
There is “afterword”—as in what authors write at the back of their books—and there is “afterward(s)”—as in the unmeasured period of time following an event. As Jay’s recent widow, living on after his life was over, I am finding myself feeling rather numb in this place called “afterwards.”
The first few days weren’t like that; the gambit of emotion is nothing but feelings. In the presence of our four adult children, I shed tears one minute and giggled in delight the next, as we shared collective memories and highlights of our lives together as “the nuclear six” (so dubbed by one of our sons to refer to his family of origin). Being in the presence of nearest and dearest kin at a time like this defies numbness. Now that same son is referring to us as the “fabulous five,” a term that doesn’t feel very fabulous, at least, not yet. Once in a while, even he slips up and says “nuclear six,” only to correct himself. There’s a lot to get used to afterwards.
One heartening reality in this period of time is the outpouring of tributes from Jay’s friends and fans.These two wonderful pictures of Jay in action—teaching classes to stage riggers—were uploaded to Facebook’s “Friends and Fans of Jay Glerum” group, and I unabashedly copied them here. I can hear his voice when I see these pictures. Thank you, Ethan Gilson and Jim Utterback (two men I’ve never met), for sharing these dynamic images of Jay—afterwards.
In that spirit, I offer this link to his SeattleTimes obituary, in the belief that if you appreciated his presence in your life you'll want to read this little blurb about him now—afterwards.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
During the six years I’ve been writing this blog, I have been careful never to use my husband’s actual name. By dubbing him “Hubby” in anecdotal references, no one who was doing a Web search for him—looking for the professional theatre consultant, rigging instructor, inspector, or teacher―could accidentally stumble onto “Beats Talking to Myself.” Needless to say, Hubby approved of my discretion.
Not that I ever wrote anything that would cause him embarrassment. I thought of it as a courtesy and the least I could do as a wife who respected her husband's career. So . . . keying in his name—Jay O. Glerum—last Friday was a sobering moment. Writing his name in this space almost broke my heart, signifying, as it did in so many ways, the end of our life together.
It turns out, I’m so glad I posted that brief announcement. Numerous people whose lives Jay touched have made contact with me. Thank you.