Remembering Jeremy… reposted from Bobthesquirrel.com

remembering jeremy merry

This is frank’s post about a dear friend of ours that passed away four years ago today.

four years ago… on October 27, 2008.  i lost a very dear friend.  the day after his passing, i posted a documentation of the feelings i was experiencing, memories i had.  It’s good to remember things like this.
i am re-posting that here, now…because i still miss him, and think about him damn near everyday.  it’s really amazing how profound an effect a person can have on your life, your decision making process and simply how you look at the world.

—-

there is something to be said for someone who, in a very short amount of time, can have such a profound effect on your life.

i met jeremy in 2003. he came on as my intern through a high school program. i had heard that he was diagnosed with leukemia and had bravely faced it down. when he first came to me i must’ve drove him nuts with questions. what can i say, i was curious. i had family who battled cancer— but i was too young to understand the gravity of what cancer was.

so i just bombarded jeremy with questions: what did you feel when you first found out? what clued you in to thinking something might be wrong? what does the chemo feel like going in? where do they put it? how long does it take? he was such a good sport about it…probably had a whole set of talking points ready to lay on people like me.

he came to me because he wanted to be a cartoonist. that’s all he wanted to do. write them, draw them, read them…i saw so much of myself in him— which is why we hit it off immediately. he was so funny. i loved to hear him laugh. i loved to make him laugh.

i am an only child. jeremy was like the little brother i never had. he loved the fact that i was one of the few adults that would tell him the straight truth. if his drawing sucked, i would tell him it sucked. if it was decent i would say that. i wouldn’t lie to him… if i lied to him it would mean that i didn’t care… and he knew that. and he respected me for that.

i told jeremy that his experience battling leukemia needs to be seen by other people. he was in a unique position to show how lonely and painful battling something you can’t see is. at the end of his internship he had put together the beginning of his chemo experience in the form of a comic book. it was to be the first in an ongoing series. i remember how proud he was, on that last day we were together, to hand me that finished copy of his comic. i helped him do that. made me feel good.

i bought him a small light table for a high school graduation present. and i told him to use it. my mantra to him was “contrast, contrast, contrast!” i would always bust his chops about how his hatching sucked. he would bust my chops back about working so much.

he went off to a local community college. at the time i lived not that far away from him. he was so happy to get out into the dorms. i would occassionally talk to him online— which was rare because he was always out doing something— being a resident assistant in the dorm— he said he wanted to do it to meet people. and meet people he did. i remember visiting him on campus and i felt like i was with the star of the football team— everyone seemed to know him and love him. i have to admit, i was jealous… but after all he went through, he deserved it. and he loved it.

just when things were all falling back into place, when leukemia seemed as though it was going to be a few pages in a huge chapter… i got the call. the cancer was back.

shit.

but jeremy was tough. if he was scared, i never knew it. this kid was going to face it down again with both middle fingers up. he tasted life and wanted more. screw cancer. he kicked its ass once, he’d do it again. and he did. but the second one took something out of him.

he went forward to finish up his two year degree. he wanted to write and draw comics, design video games… nothing was going to stop him from doing that. but the cancer thing was lingering it was pushing against him time and time again. but no matter what he was going to get his degree.

when i was going through some heavy personal shit, i remember talking to jeremy. my life as i knew it was falling apart before my eyes… i was confused, scared didn’t think i had many options. i was willing to spend my life miserable because i was too frightened to do anything about it… because doing something meant that i had to sacrifice things… that it would be hard… jeremy could do that in his sleep. he would say that life was too short to be miserable… i’m not saying that his words solely convinced me to change my life… but they helped.

earlier this year jeremy got sick again. i kidnapped him one day and took him to the art supply store. we talked about going to see iron man, the hulk, the new batman movie. i just thought that he would kick this round like the other two. i remember specifically driving home on route 49 with jeremy sitting next to me thinking, ” this is one of the toughest m—–f—-rs i know…” he was still doing the college thing… driving to syracuse for treatment week after week…

when i got settled into my new house, he came over to visit. and he was busting my chops as usual…because i had the house, the white picket fence, the beautiful girl, the small yappy dog… everything i said i’d never be — i became… jerk :-)

that would be the last time i would see him outside of a hospital.

he went to university hospital not too long after that. i went up to visit him a couple times. i regret now that i didn’t bring a camera with me… i have no pictures of me and him together. with jeremy though, i was being uncharacteristcally optimistic… i’d get my picture with him… when he beat it this time, i told him i was taking his ass to get a tattoo.. i think he deserved it.

his mom called me and wanted to know if i wanted to make an artwork donation for a families of cancer of benefit… instead of picking out something that was already done i decided to do the portrait of jeremy that you see at the beginning of this post. i mean it was for jeremy. the piece was going to be auctioned off… i knew that… i planned on doing another one just for him. someone was able to buy back the piece from whoever bought it… when i went to see him at th hospital the second time, the painting was right by his bed. that really got me.

but syracuse couldn’t knock the cancer out of him. so off to buffalo…another hospital, another cancer center… nothing. i was making plans to go and see him in buffalo but he left there for another experimental treatment in new york city. so i was starting to make plans to go down there. i kept putting off calling him. my life has become chaotic in the past few months… i couldn’t make five minutes to call him and bust his chops? i would do it. i have to… it’s jeremy.

yesterday, i got home after work… the dogs had wrecked the house, there was pee on the carpets, in my studio, lucy pooped in the bathroom… and i went insane… then my phone rang.

jeremy was gone. the world stopped for a moment.

before he passed, he made sure to tell his mom that he wanted me to be the first to know.

my friend, my boy, my little brother… was gone. his fight was over.

you never know how it feels until it happens to you. this is a mixed feeling. i’m glad that he’s done with the pain, the struggle, that he doesn’t have to spend anymore time in another goddamn hospital. eat another crappy hospital meal. lay awake all night, alone… with nothing but some dvds and a sketchbook by his side.

and i’m angry….i want to have coffee with my friend again… but i can’t. i want to be able to watch him develop as an artist and writer but i can’t. he was 24 years old. 24 years old. everything he ever wanted to do in his life, i’m doing. i’m doing what he wanted to do… i am living his dream… without even knowing it i am.

after yesterday, there are a bunch of little things that really don’t have the weight to me like they used to.

it was an honor to know you jeremy. i’ll never forget you dude.

— a few days after he passed, i was a pallbearer at his funeral.  jeremy’s family had all the bob the squirrel comic strips i did about him displayed with all the flowers sent.  in addition, a painting i had done of jeremy was there.  they played louis armstrong’s version of “what a wonderful world” during the service.  if i hadn’t really lost it by then, that song did it.  Can’t think of anything or anyone but him every time i hear it.

The cost of paying attention…

paying attention

In the grand scheme of things, paying attention is one bill you need to always cover.

(I can’t believe I actually used “grand scheme” in a sentence.)

I can’t begin to tell you how many fixes I’ve able to get myself out of because I simply paid attention.  I can’t tell you because there haven’t been any.  If i did that, maybe I’d be living with a taller cartoonist or have both a summer tree and a winter tree… and a vacation tree.

The illustration above represents the before picture.  If you were to see what happened after I broke the bank, I’m sure you’d be shocked.  Maybe not.

There was no money in the bank.  That ceramic pig gave up its very structure for nothing… except the three moths that were released.

Just pay attention.

being heard…and learning something new

with a  bullhorn

I am stubborn.  I may have already established that.  The day I got a bullhorn, I became a force to be reckoned with.  Only problem was even though I had a louder voice, I really had nothing to say.  Not really… I HAD NOTHING TO SAY.  I realized that if I never opened myself up to learning new things, volume would be meaningless and a complete waste of time and energy.

 

Self-confidence and squirrel pride…

 

self-confidence

Self-confidence is a great trait to have.  I have more a tendency to get it like someone would get a cold.  It’s not something that is a permanent part of my biology, but I do tend to catch it one to three times a year.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a self-confidence based on something genuine or a fake-ish, psyche-yourself-up-to-do-something-that-terrifies-the-kidneys out of you self-confidence.  Believe it or not, the fake one seems to last longer than the genuine.  Either way, it’s a great feeling… you feel more than yourself, like you can eat nails and break houses into matchsticks.

One has to be extremely careful with this power.  Confidence is attractive, but it treads a fine line between nice and jerkdom.  An overly confident person gets pushed, or rather pushes themselves into that territory.  I, on the other hand, can bypass that altogether… everybody loves a talking squirrel… confident or not.

Right?

thinking in the third squirrel…

thinking in the third squirrel

I do a lot of thinking.  I’m too short to play basketball and my hands are too small to play video games.  After you brush your tail for the millionth time, what else is there to do?  I know what you’re thinking… if your hands are so small Bob, how can you do all this typing?

Slowly…

one…word…letter…at…a…time.

My brain doesn’t have an off switch.  I don’t even have a dimmer.  I tried squirrel yoga, squirrel meditation, squirrel monopoly, squirrel scrabble and squirrel roller derby.  I kinda liked squirrel roller derby… they serve really good roasted nuts there… medium rare just like i like them.

In a deep rut…

in a very deep rut

Ever feel like you’re going in circles? Or, you feel like you’re going straight but the scenery on either side of you revolves like when Fred runs through his house on the the Flintstones?  You’re in a rut.  You’re in a deep rut.

These things aren’t impossible to get out of.  The one thing that is needed is time.  The second thing needed is patience.  If you have at least one of those things, you can get the other.  If you have one and are frantic because you don’t have the other, you’ll be in a bad way and the rut will get deeper.

When you realize you’re in the rut, the best thing you can do is chill… that and check out the brontosaurus bone by your ear.

“Responsibility is a heavy responsibility…”

responsibility is a heavy responsibility

“Responsibility is a heavy responsibility.”  –Cheech, Cheech & Chong’s Next Movie

This is one we all at some point wish wasn’t true… deny, deny, deny… but we all know it is true.  If there is a way to pawn it off  onto someone else, you’d be amazed at how light that stuff becomes…especially when it’s not tickling your nose.

I don’t have too much to say about this… but I am proud of the fact that I am the first squirrel philosopher to ever directly quote Cheech Marin.  I can be really cool sometimes.

 

Marshmallows in my pockets…

marshmallows in my pockets

I love marshmallows.  I love the simplicity of marshmallows.  Air, sugar, water, corn syrup and gelatin.  How many things can you point to in your life that have only five main ingredients?  How many things in your life are as versatile as a marshmallow? A marshmallow is equally effective as a compliment to something else or all on its own.  In some cases, a dish isn’t that dish without a marshmallow.

Can you think of roasting anything else over a campfire? (besides a meat product?) You’re out in the woods, tired from hiking, and hiking and hiking… you find a place to nest for the night… eating only what you’ve carried in with you… it tastes like you made it out in the woods… probably looks like it too.  You choke down the meal; knowing that it is merely to fuel your continued journey… but then, you pull out the marshmallows?  Why marshmallows?  Because, they’re light…and when every ounce on your back feels like a ton that’s a big plus.  More importantly, they’re a familiar taste… a reminder of goodness…comfort.  Anything with sugar does this for me.

I don’t think I’d ever want to live in a world where I couldn’t get a bag of these little spongy wonders.

One has to respect the marshmallow.  We should all strive to one day be like a marshmallow.

it’s not the size that counts

not the size that counts

I’ve had to deal with size my whole life… and it doesn’t look like that will be changing for the rest of my life.  What i lack in stature, I more than make up for in the moments where i can just go absolutely out of mind insane.  Sometimes volume and crazy can do way more than smart and reserved.  The tricky bit is knowing when you can get the most out of your crazy.  You use crazy too much, then animal control gets called and the next thing you know it’s 5 hours later, there’s a tranquilizer dart in your backside and you’ve been dropped in the middle of the woods by some conservationist.

wait, maybe that only happens to me.