Contact us
Back to All Posts

We don’t really know how a younger best friend died, just one year ago today, but when one looks at our history of being linked at the hip, as some have said about our psychic-ness, one could speculate … If you don’t believe in such, read the ending P.S.

Almost to the day when Danyiel was bartending and I ordered a first drink from her, when I could squeeze in time during her quite busy early-evening shift, she considered me a best friend. We really didn’t spend that much time together — again busy period in both of our lives — but when we did we were inseparable, one might say linked at the hip, although hers were much smaller than mine, and her blonde hair a bit bigger. Those were the days my friend …
Notice the past tense. Danyiel died exactly one year ago. She did not believe in an afterlife, but she has been proven wrong, as I know she is in a good place.
For family reasons she needed to move away from the Hudson area several years ago. Complex situation. Both Danyiel and I discussed the last time we had met up after her 10 p.m. shift ended, that this “separation anxiety,” to use the medical term, would be gut-wrenching. She died on her birthday — it was her 46th and last — a day we normally got together and exchanged greetings and maybe a sentimental but not too mushy card. But importantly, even after an autopsy, the coroner could not explain her cause of death in any medical terms. All I know is that she left this earth way too soon.
She had an uncommon beauty and although a very pleasant demeanor, possessed a slightly rough-edged charm, and was loyal to a fault, to me and others. You didn’t mess with Joe when Danyiel was around. One of the last times I saw her she was in a long flowing gown, on a dress-up holiday.
I had not seen Danyiel for the unusually long time of two weeks when she suddenly went into labor, and the birth was touch and go. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the child’s neck. I was alone at home, then suddenly overcome by a sense of urgent need. During the delivery, I was frozen in place for hours while lying in my bed, with moving muscles hardly possible. But I did not have fear, as I knew my trooper friend would pull through. And at that point, when all was saved and mom mother and child were OK, my spell lifted and I got back on my feet.
A time afterward, a co-worker and I discussed the timing of her situation, and my understanding of the time of birth proved more accurate.
Earlier, a dental procedure had been scheduled. It would be very painful, and considering the fact she was with child, could not have standard anesthesia. I told her the night before that since I was on deadline, and would have to sleep in, and the extraction was set for a ungodly early hour, this would be a great time to prove out my dream and premonition theory. Her response: “You do not need to sell me on this. We both know it occurs.”
Danyiel would on multiple occasions arrive back at home and before the day of cell phones, when land lines where the thing, make the pronouncement: I hurried to get back here, since I know and feel that Joe is going to call very soon. Then two minutes later, I would phone her and she would take my call.
One of those times was on MY birthday, surprise, and the result was Danyiel taking me out for dinner. It was a nice place with great food, but since it was Stillwater Tex-Mex, quite affordable.
Maybe not so much, the vehicle with which she pulled into the driveway, a small and cute and bright red sports car. With plenty of white trim inside, I recall. Danyiel being Danyiel, she had on a bit of a peekaboo top at its bottom end (this was the 1990s). Later, when she stretched to pick up the check, you couldn’t help but notice a bit of bellybutton glancing through. When I saw her and her ride pull up, I chuckled to myself, what would the neighbors think?
Like that matters to me now that she’s gone.
(P.S). The night before I posted this already-set copy, I had a dream about things that include the mortality of another person, which is fitting considering the anniversary that is today. Do readers see a pattern? So here we go again …
A relative, who is a bit older, and I had not seen in years shown forth at length in a dream, in part questioning a series of life choices that could be seen as questionable but in the along haul turned out OK, and where I was along that path. Let’s get together was the message, as all the scenarios involved much earlier times spent with me that even at the golf course, were great fun — like with Danyiel — but also could have transferred into more bittersweet, if fate would have taken the wrong turn. I awoke wondering if sis had reached out about it, concerning someone who upon further review, is like me and deals with things by being introspective and ruminating.
She had late the previous night, and the person was in a serious medical situation. It could cause a demise, although more medically explainable. There you go again and here I go.
Again, on such topics and many other facets of the journey, more in coming posts.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

  • I’ll be (relatively) brief and punchy with this headline notation, as we transition to giving you more and sometimes shorter choices. And you may notice some of that as you beckon forward. It’s circular. Like a flush. Be careful what you mix, heads vs. text, drinks vs. food, and all kinds of potions — that may go bump in the night. —– Punchy, potentially, but I digress or progress with a new patriotic addition. And a second edition, an old Obsession, as in a concert.
My mom has told me not to be a potty mouth when I write, as she certainly would not appreciate hardly any of the standup humor on say, Comedy Central Radio. SNL maybe. But after 11:30 p.m. … But there comes a time where a man must make a stand. And for this jokester, it was now when he had to choose whether to pass on the opportunity that would otherwise bite him in the butt, for in front of and behind him is the Mother Lode. Or should I say load. Or “Mothers” of Invention. — On another stage, I dissed...
Read More
  • This coulda been Vanna White’s next Big gig In The Sky, if the scaffolding was not so high. So this is how the project went, by the letters and numbers, of get Trump’s name erased from the Kennedy Center. The $250 bill might be tougher. Sad but true. So, What are there more of going on right now, wars or Trump pet construction projects?
So the wall is down. Of letters, that is. Not down by Mexico. Cemented into the concrete. Of the Kennedy Center. Where music has sat. (Near where a now defunct wrestling arena rusts in peace. Or a bloodied White House lawn. With leftover paper cups and plates, more likely bowls and small utensils, anyone?) Or more ornate than inside? A tarp the size of Pennsylvania, the predominant battle state, covers workers as they chip. So geez, how big are the letters? Four times 50 living workers high? But now none remain, or so we are told by flunkies. Or is...
Read More
  • Stressed out as a caregiver? She’s back at yah. This is a rare case of a husband and wife being joint caregivers — for each other — aided and abbetted by the fact that they have a lot of the same disabling conditions. So she shovels snow using a walker/scooter, while he cooks gingerly using a microwave and offers her a plate when she sits down, in an easy chair, in a reversal and new take on traditional roles. Whatever it takes. Necessity is the mother of invention. —– In a new add, Towns and the champion Knicks got kicked around but still got their kicks in the long run … As do Norwegian dancers.
A few years back, I wrote an article about Hudson Deacon Tom Kroll and how he did so many extra dutiful tasks, his living out the Gospels tirelessly, when his wife was ill, in addition to his regular job. I was inspired at the time to pen this, about my own lovely, disabled wife — we were separated briefly but now back together with our 40th anniversary this month, as wholehearted caregiving has many strains — and how an atypical view of standard roles, out of necessity, made things work, as far as our approach to work and home that’s...
Read More
  • He says, and goes fishing with the boys. She says, then goes to the middle of Texas, inviting her mates to a ranch/villa built for the ages. The bachelor and bachelorette parties were on the same night, but though very different, they had some things in common … like the snakes, at least three kinds, to avoid. (None with exotic dancer.) But while away, they did not avoid each other, completely. He made a phone call. —– Just added, last call included a Carolina cowpoke.
What do fishing, maybe in the dark, thus a Texas ranch, snakes of various types and do they come or stay out after dusk, eating either and only fine food or snacks, and a game of cards — likely just one each — have in common. And no strippers or Chippendales. And an only half or quarter, not full Monty. (Who is Monty anyway?) Or cowboy or cowgirl hats. Although there was some dress-up. More Barbie than boots on, I think. It’s an easy answer, connected and conflicting, but not in all or dirty ways, bachelor and bachelorette parties. One of each...
Read More
  • Full metal jacket? Hey, I wasn’t exactly to the point of going Rob Halford. But tastes aside, there must be some reason why after 26 years I was shunned, like going Bob Daisley by Ozzy at his reunion? OK, I know, my style may not have fit with the packed crowd. And the last couple of times for this, I tried to do too much with ad-libbing. So yeah, I get that this time around, I was the somewhat unusual choice to be the one left off the set list, with singers clamoring to get up there. But seriously, just being analytical of strengths and weaknesses as a singer here, no hard feelings. I’m not Dio. (Or Traveling Wilburys, a when jumping inside, inside joke.)
It was clear to me at the most recent Jeff Loven music show in Hudson, for Memorial Day weekend, that there has been a changing of the guard. The sword has been passed. New blood, like Yungblud, has been brought in. And, I must say, loyalty — amongst the devotees who travel frequently and all across the two-state area to virtually all of Jeff’s shows — has been rewarded. They are the royalty, in what just makes good business sense that I can appreciate. In a significant but not unprecedented altering of course, I was not one of those asked...
Read More
  • Songs by Napalm Death? A fire swept down my very street today, where the babies were burned. (But alas, a new A/C unit is on its way up the freeway.) The Stones did not leave these themes unturned, either, or should I say unrolled. Oh wait, this all was my cooker of an apartment, and we are not talking the kitchen. But all these matters will become more pressing, a pressure point, as the new normal especially in southern climes is temp well into the triple digits. It is these people, the third world, and their heat stroke not mine, that most concern me. (Another example of hellfire temps just added. Sin after Sin.)
Trial by fire. My broiling heart in my efficiency flat still beats a bit, in concern over those boiling over in worse apartments in a Chicago tenancy, or on an ocean island instantly-burn-your-feet beach or dessert, or forced to endure ice baths just to keep cool — or simply be offered no way to maintain an ice-dripping body other than also read a non-cookbook at the library, or select not a big steak you can’t afford but a 73/27 burger from a freezer and slap it on your forehead. Just not too hard. All these things are ones where you especially today either burn or...
Read More
Scroll to Top