On a Single Orbit Around the Sun

To say that I had a lot on my mind exactly one year ago tonight, would be to use understatement to a degree that I cannot even begin to explain.

The last time this world occupied the same position in orbit around the sun as it does on this eve, I sat in the small living room of my one bedroom "Treehouse" apartment on Dewey Court watching the election results come in.

As it became more and more evident that Barack Obama was about to become the first African-American President of the United States, as he walked out into Millennium Park with his young and beautiful family to a crowd of hopeful Americans representing every race, creed, ethnicity, sexuality, and economic status, tears rolled down my face.

They rolled down my face as I, for the first time in my life, felt truly inspired by a leader. I have been inspired by leaders of the past, but never during my lifetime had one person given me so much hope for our world, for the ability to bring people together instead of spreading them apart, and never before had I had so much hope for our future.

Tears rolled down my face as I felt the presence of my late liberal Grandmother, and wished so much she could share this moment with me, as I remembered one of the last times I had stopped to visit with her.

My paternal grandparent's house is in Steven's Point (my Grandfather still lives there), and in college I would frequently stop by unannounced as I traveled between Madison and the Northwoods to enjoy Grandma's delicious recipes (she always made you eat -- and way too much) and have feisty and enjoyable debates for hours about where our country and government goes wrong. (Pictured is Grandma and I on a good day gone by at their house in Point)

On these visits, I would often stay well into the darkness of night, my grandparents and I debating religion, gay rights, health care, welfare, poverty, education, war, injustice, and any other world problem we could come up with, all while enjoying a vast array of buttery and chocolaty snacks Grandma had always prepared from scratch in anticipation of such unexpected visits.

I would stay so late, in fact, that I'd often arrive back in Madison in the wee hours of the morning, slapping myself in the face just to keep myself from falling asleep behind the wheel. It was worth it, however, as few memories shine as brightly and warmly as late night debates and snacks at the Weis grandparent's house.

Tears rolled down my face one year ago tonight as I remembered the last time I had seen her on such a stop. Growing weaker from a long fight with cancer, she was feisty as always, but could see and talked openly that an end was coming near.

We ate her delicious cookies. It was summer and the election was coming, and per usual she didn't want to talk about anything but politics. All her life she had been a staunch liberal and she hadn't seen her candidates win nearly enough. She realized she was waning, and she was all right with that because she had lived a great life, but her last remaining hope was that she could just hold on long enough to win one more time -- to see an intelligent, liberal, African-American become the President of the United States.

She didn't quite make it to see her dream become a reality, and as I watched Obama and his family walk out on the stage at millennium park, chills rolled down my spine and tears down my face as I felt the spirit of her presence, her utter happiness, with the night's events.

If we each have a unique heaven or blissful afterlife, I like to think Grandma's is in that diverse and tearful crowd on the shores of Lake Michigan one year ago tonight.

Tears also rolled down my face for another reason that night.

Tylenol and all, I could not alleviate a sharp pain in the back of my hip caused from the previous days bone marrow biopsy.

For two months, doctors had wondered why my blood counts were off, and only the day before took the "precautionary measure" of a bone marrow biopsy to make sure "it's just a virus and not something more serious like cancer."

As I sat emotional and in pain watching Obama's speech, I knew that the future had diverged from the passed, that nothing would ever be the same. I could not help but recognize that the results of the election would change our country and our world.

I also knew from the incessant pain in my back that within 48 hours I would receive a phone call that could change my world forever.

Simultaneously, I held so much hope for the future of our country and so much fear for what my personal future might bring.

I now new we would have an inspirational young leader who held the potential to make the world a better, more tolerant and inviting place.

I would need to wait two days to find out what my life would like in this new world. Was I about to continue on as planned, living a great life, working my dream job, and all with a new exciting political establishment, or was I about to engage in the fight for my life.

I couldn't have imagined that night as I tried to focus my mind, that I'd be sitting at my computer one year later, as happy as I have been in my life (if a bit worn down), reflecting on the unknowns of a night I now know has been followed by a scary phone call, a year of chemo, a year of fear and of happiness, of love and laughter, a year of breaking down and of getting back up, of pain and suffering, of euphoria and ecstasy, of sadness and delight.

There simply aren't enough words to describe the emotions, events, and experiences I've had over the earth's most recent passage around the sun.

And as I watched Air Force One land in Madison today on TV I could not help but find it eerily fitting that Obama was in town on this strange anniversary.

I also found it fitting that while digging through my office this week I found a note card for the recipe for Grandma's chocolate chip cookies that I wrote down one of the last times I visited with her in Point.

As I enter what I can only hope is to be the final stretch of rough treatment that kicks this cancer's ass for good (tomorrow we start radiation plus if my counts are high enough we will start all of the worst chemo drugs -- the ones that put me in the hospital last time), I plan on baking some of Grandma's cookies both in her honor and to give me comfort as we navigate what I hope to be the final stretch of the rough seas of treatment that precede the calmer seas of maintenance.

Good vibes would be very much appreciated as we once again enter these darker waters.

Just as when I made the passage from Isle Royale, tonight I am nervous as I stare out over the roughest seas that lie just outside the breakwater, but I can now see the safety of Copper Harbor, and I am beginning to get very, very excited about what the next passage of the earth around the sun might bring.

-Sam