--
Jonah Manning
S/V Araby
Online Journal: www.jonahmanning.name
Email - bellyofthewhale.gmail.com
Phone: +001 803 446-5529
31 Churchill Circle
Columbia, South Carolina, 29206
USA
Emergency contact:
Dibble Manning
phone: 001 - 803 - 787 - 4352
email:cmann1960@aol.com>
also check addresss in "to" column
We shall see.
Happy Holidays to all.
I am currently in Montreal with my sister, Jean Elliott. I have heard
some great music, met some fine people, seen great snow, drove through
a massive storm, read a great book. I have revitalized myself. I
feel stronger every day. I have slept so soundly, deeply. My soul is
stirring again.
Soon I'll be heading south to N.Y., Maryland and then home. Then to
Florida to check this boat, then Mobile, then Texas for work....then
hopefully the Caribbean in spring.
Hopefully tomorrow I leave for Montreal to see my sister.
The future most people are living into is beginning to disappear. The
financial crisis threw the first punch, but oil depletion will deliver
the knockout blow. The moment people realize that the society they
have known their whole life can no longer function the same way
without the energy provided by oil, it will become glaringly apparent
that the future will be very, very different. It's not just that we
will no longer have fresh food flown in from around the world. Some of
the fundamental assumptions held by people living in the rich
countries will no longer hold:
• many jobs that have never existed before will once again no
longer exist
• retirement, a phenomenon only a century old, will disappear
• accumulating "wealth" will be out of reach for most people
• most children will no longer be able to attend institutions
of higher education
• diseases and conditions that are easily treated now will
once again claim lives
Once a person has realized that these and many more futures will no
longer exist, they will ask themselves the following question: If the
future I've lived with my whole life will not longer occur, what will
my future be?
People will react in many different ways as they consider the
question of what their future will be. Some people will become
resigned and despondent, others will become resolute as they
concentrate on the job of making sure they and their family are
sheltered and adequately fed. Still others will become happier as they
leave the rat race and simplify their life. If you are considering
this question, hopefully you will realize that creating the future
rather than waiting for it to happen to you will give you a better
result. That's what this article is about.
Before continuing, I am going to outline a principle that is a part
of the coaching model I use. It is not the only model in the world,
but it has worked consistently for me and my clients.
Your Future Gives You Your Experience of Now
In this article, I will operate on the following principle:
The future a person lives into determines how they operate in and
experience the present.
This may seem counter-intuitive to you because there seems to be so
much evidence that it is the past that gives us our experience of now.
For example, don't we feel proud of our accomplishments — and didn't
those accomplishments happen in the past? Don't we suffer from events
— and aren't those events in the past?
To see that it's our future that gives us our experience of the
present, try this simple experiment. Imagine you are holding a lottery
ticket and are about to check the winning numbers. You might be
interested and cautiously optimistic. As you read the winning numbers
you realize that yours is the winning ticket. What is your experience
at the moment you realize you've won the jackpot?
If you are like most people, you will be surprised and ecstatic. But
has anything — in physical reality — changed in any way? No, it
hasn't. But the future you see before you has completely changed and
your happiness comes from a new future filled with a life of leisure
or travel or the finest things in life.
The same principle operates whenever a future changes. Whether it's
agreeing to marry someone, getting a new job or facing a serious
illness, in all these circumstances the future determines how you
operate in and experience the present.
What about those past events, the accomplishments and tragedies?
Don't they impact us in the present? They certainly do, but the impact
comes from how they have changed the future that we live into because
those events happened. I'll leave it as homework to the reader to
determine the future that is created when we experience an
accomplishment or tragedy.
People who panic when they learn of peak oil see a terrible future for
themselves and society. Although I didn't panic when I first learned
of peak oil, I did experience a feeling of dread. I looked into the
future and saw the possibility of social turmoil and hunger. This
seems to be a common reaction, and most people move through the
experience in hours or days as they gradually see that the gloomy
future is not inevitable.
Gloomy Futures Are Useful — To a Point
Gloomy futures are often conjured up by your brain without your
permission or guidance. Your brain is simply an associative machine
that took in the idea of oil depletion, recalled images from its past
(perhaps including a Mad Max movie), and plopped the result in your
mental lap. Although it may have you prepare in ways you wouldn't
normally, this gloomy future can also paralyze you and turn you into a
morose individual unable to experience the joy there is and will
always be available in life.
If you are unsatisfied with the future your brain invented for you,
you will have to create one yourself.
Quality of Life vs Standard of Living
We're almost ready to discuss how to create a future worth living
into. I'm going to make one more distinction that should help the
transition. With the loss of inexpensive and plentiful oil you are not
just confronting the loss of vacations in the Tropics. It will look
like the sudden loss of much more than that. But what is it you are
losing, exactly?
At this point it's valuable to get yourself clear on what you are
actually going to lose. If you don't stop your brain, it is likely to
say, "Everything!", send you down a dark tunnel and leave you there.
But you aren't going to lose everything; you aren't even going to lose
the most important things, as you'll soon see. That's because almost
every person tends to make one fundamental mistake (myself included
when I'm not paying attention).
We tend to confuse what economists call "standard of living" with
"quality of life." The two are not the same, no matter how many
vacation advertisements try to convince you otherwise. The standard of
living index measures the number of things a person can purchase or
possess. This is again useful only to a point. Beyond the very basics
of life, like food and shelter, we want things not for the things
themselves but for what they give us at an emotional level.
We want money to go on vacation so that we can have fun. But is it
necessary to leave town to have fun? We want to send our kids to
college so that they can "create a future for themselves." But what
does that mean? Are people who don't go to college incapable of
experiencing happiness in their life? If your children were healthy
and happy, wouldn't you have done your job as a parent? We know that
the poor can be happy and the rich can be (often desperately) unhappy.
Things and circumstances fool us into short-term happiness, and then
the happiness wears off and the cycle starts again. Have you noticed
as your income rose, your expectations rose with them? If you hadn't
noticed that, you're in the standard of living trap and you don't even
know it.
Creating a Future Worth Living Into
Now we're ready to look at futures worth living into. This future
won't be attached to things and circumstances or you'll never get out
of the trap. So, as you create your new future, remember to resist the
pull of equating being fulfilled with having things. Many people who
have been preparing for peak oil have found that their life has
dramatically improved as they have taken on new responsibilities and
learned new skills, like growing their own food, even as they started
to lower the number of luxuries in their life.
One of the most powerful ways I've found to create a fulfilling future
is to distinguish a role for yourself. Roles are powerful because they
establish a context to live in and are easy to remember. When we take
on a role, we automatically get access to all the properties that
define the role. For instance, if I say that I will take on the role
of being a loving husband, I don't have to memorize "The Ten Steps to
Being a Loving Husband." I will immediately have access to ways of
expressing that role I've heard about (like hiding love notes around
the house) and I will easily invent new ways to express the role with
just a bit of creativity.
You are undoubtedly playing all sorts of roles right now, and there
are thousands of roles you can play in post-peak oil world. Your job
is to create a new, fulfilling role for yourself. Here are a few basic
roles, starting with some roles you may want to avoid.
• The Victim. To play this role, you should complain that the
world isn't fair and that there isn't enough time to prepare. Talk
only about things that we will lose or how other people or groups are
better off than you. Unfortunately, this role isn't very attractive
and people will try to avoid you — but it is a valid role. I include
it so that you can recognize when you are playing the victim, discard
it, and choose a different role.
• The Drama Queen. Be a Drama Queen by saying, "We are so
screwed" or similar things after describing how you see the future
playing out. This can be a fun role to play, especially when
describing a Mad Max scenario in great detail. Most people will
eventually want you to talk about how they can actually prepare for
the future. The Drama Queen role can often be matched up with the
Victim role to great effect, but people tire of it quickly.
• The Bystander. To do a good job with this role, say "what
will happen will happen" whenever you hear about something terrible
happening, preferably in Spanish. This is actually a good role to keep
handy because often events will truly be out of your control, and
there is no need to get your knickers in a knot over them.
• The Leader. With this role, you see peak oil as an
opportunity to make a difference in your community and the world. You
can be a leader in thousands of ways, from starting a community garden
to inviting friends over to teach them a useful skill you know. The
only requirement to be a leader is that you create a future that
wasn't going to happen anyway. You don't need to know how to speak in
front of crowds and you don't need a commanding presence. All you need
is the commitment to create a future that wasn't going to happen
unless you became involved.
You can add these roles to any that you are currently playing
(parent, student, entertainer, etc.), and you can switch at any time.
Of course some roles will give you better results than others.
Being a leader can be an immensely fulfilling role and one I
wholeheartedly recommend, especially since we are going to need many
local leaders very soon. I'd like to see the leadership positions
filled with people who see it as way to serve the community rather
than to enrich themselves materially. But that doesn't mean you won't
get benefits by being a leader, and there should be some benefits. For
example, being a leader means that you will create your own support
network faster, and you will gain information about the world earlier
than others, allowing you to prepare better.
Many people shy away from being a leader because they think it is a
burden, but they have it backwards: the Leader role can be freeing
because small inconveniences stop being annoying — as a leader you'll
have bigger, more inspiring goals on your mind.
Conclusion
In this article, we looked at how your experience and actions in the
present are a function of the future you are living into. We also saw
that your brain will invent a gloomy future given no direction: To
have a fulfilling future to live into, you'll need to take charge.
Then we noted one of the most common mistakes people make: confusing
the economists' standard of living with quality of life. Last, we
looked at some roles that you might consider taking on, particularly
the Leader role.
Ultimately, the purpose of this article was to point out that many of
the roles you are playing now are no longer going to hold, and that
you will need to take charge. Take a moment and ask yourself, "What
kind of fulfilling role can I create for myself in a post peak world?"
http://www.salon.com/opinion/greenwald/radio/2008/10/27/hafetz/index.html
Sympathy and compassion and solidarity for all
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Whenever a Great Bipartisan Consensus is announced, and a compliant
media assures everyone that the wondrous actions of our wise leaders
are being taken for our own good, you can know with absolute certainty
that disaster is about to strike.
The events of the past week are no exception.
The bailout package that is about to be rammed down Congress' throat
is not just economically foolish. It is downright sinister. It makes
a mockery of our Constitution, which our leaders should never again
bother pretending is still in effect. It promises the American people
a never-ending nightmare of ever-greater debt liabilities they will
have to shoulder. Two weeks ago, financial analyst Jim Rogers said
the bailout of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac made America more communist
than China! 'This is welfare for the rich,' he said. 'This is
socialism for the rich. It's bailing out the financiers, the banks,
the Wall Streeters.'
That describes the current bailout package to a T. And we're being
told it's unavoidable.
The claim that the market caused all this is so staggeringly foolish
that only politicians and the media could pretend to believe it. But
that has become the conventional wisdom, with the desired result that
those responsible for the credit bubble and its predictable
consequences - predictable, that is, to those who understand sound,
Austrian economics - are being let off the hook. The Federal Reserve
System is actually positioning itself as the savior, rather than the
culprit, in this mess!
• The Treasury Secretary is authorized to purchase up to $700
billion in mortgage-related assets at any one time. That means $700
billion is only the very beginning of what will hit us.
• Financial institutions are 'designated as financial agents of the
Government.' This is the New Deal to end all New Deals.
• Then there's this: 'Decisions by the Secretary pursuant to the
authority of this Act are non-reviewable and committed to agency
discretion, and may not be reviewed by any court of law or any
administrative agency.' Translation: the Secretary can buy up
whatever junk debt he wants to, burden the American people with it,
and be subject to no one in the process.
There goes your country.
Even some so-called free-market economists are calling all this 'sadly
necessary.' Sad, yes. Necessary? Don't make me laugh.
Our one-party system is complicit in yet another crime against the
American people. The two major party candidates for president
themselves initially indicated their strong support for bailouts of
this kind - another example of the big choice we're supposedly
presented with this November: yes or yes. Now, with a backlash
brewing, they're not quite sure what their views are. A sad display,
really.
Although the present bailout package is almost certainly not the end
of the political atrocities we'll witness in connection with the
crisis, time is short. Congress may vote as soon as tomorrow. With a
Rasmussen poll finding support for the bailout at an anemic seven
percent, some members of Congress are afraid to vote for it. Call
them! Let them hear from you! Tell them you will never vote for
anyone who supports this atrocity.
The issue boils down to this: do we care about freedom? Do we care
about responsibility and accountability? Do we care that our
government and media have been bought and paid for? Do we care that
average Americans are about to be looted in order to subsidize the
fattest of cats on Wall Street and in government? Do we care?
When the chips are down, will we stand up and fight, even if it means
standing up against every stripe of fashionable opinion in politics
and the media?
Times like these have a way of telling us what kind of a people we
are, and what kind of country we shall be.
In liberty,
Ron Paul
* If you grow up in Hawaii, raised by your grandparents, you're
exotic,different."
* Grow up in Alaska eating mooseburgers, a quintessential American
story.
"If your name is Barack you're a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.
* Name your kids Willow, Trig and Track, you're a maverick.
* Graduate from Harvard law School and you are unstable.
* Attend 5 different small colleges before graduating, you're well
grounded.
* If you spend 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the
first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration
drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional
Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district
with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate's Health and
Human Services committee, spend 4 years in the United States Senate
representing a state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills
and serving on
the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs
committees, you don't have any real leadership experience.
* If your total resume is: local weather girl, 4 years on the city
council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, 20
months as the governor of a state with only 650,000 people, then you're
qualified
to become the country's second highest ranking executive and next in line
behind a man in his eighth decade.
* If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising
2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you're not a real
Christian.
* If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and then left
your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a true
Christian.
* If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including
the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.
* If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no
other option in sex education in your state's school system while your unwed
teen daughter ends up pregnant, you're very responsible.
* If your wife is a Harvard graduate lawyer who gave up a position in
a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city
community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family's values don't
represent America's.
* If you're husband is nicknamed "First Dude", with at least one DWI
conviction and no college education, who didn't register to vote until
age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of
Alaska from the USA, your family is extremely admirable.
OK, much clearer now.
Of the 481 glitches so far discovered with electronic voting machines
in the Nov. 2 election, 436 favored Republicans, 44 favored Democrats,
and 1 favored a Libertarian.
I'll be back in a week so hopefully I will only miss one EMT class.
Just hope there is no problems with the house while I'm away. So
close. . .
http://www.zappinternet.com/flash/zi.swf?idvideo=logJpaPjoK&embed=true
Martine, Jim, ????, a rare shot of Matt DiFranchesca, and Paul. This was in the Marquesas, but I don't know where.
This picture accompanies a most hilarious and thrilling story. Can you imagine how terrifying it would be to be in a small confined space--such as the cabin of a sailboat--with a large frightened bird--namely a pelican--which carries an unsheathed sword attached to its face?? It is not my story. I cannot tell it. Ask Laura from SeaCor, or Paul for that matter.
-----
I was awarded a Watson Fellowship in 1998 to travel abroad during
1998-1999. My girlfriend (now wife), Kari Palmintier, graduated from
Sewanee in 1999 and worked at the Monteagle Assembly that summer. As
I had no strings attached and no job lined up upon returning from the
Watson, I decided to return to the mountain to be with Kari and to
enjoy some final days on the Mountain. As luck would have it, I was
able to house sit for Bran and Cindy Potter for several weeks in
July-August. It was a wonderful arrangement: eat all the food in the
freezer (I was king-of-the-scrounge in those days), water the plants,
and maybe cut the grass if I felt like it. Of course it was, and
still is, I presume, known that Bran's house is haunted. I already
knew this because I was a geology major, and those types of rumors
circulate among the fold. However, on his way out the door Bran
assured me that his was a friendly ghost and not to worry.
In early August, our good friend, Jamie Blythe (now Wood), c'99,
passed through Sewanee on her way to her family's cotton farm in
northern Alabama. Jamie had spent the last several months as a ranger
in Yosemite National Park and had done a good bit of rock climbing.
As Kari and I were planning our own voyage to Yosemite later that
fall, we picked her brain about great things to do there, including
some recommended climbing routes. There was one route in particular
that captivated her: the East Buttress of Middle Cathedral, a
beautiful multi-pitch (multiple rope lengths) climb that, at 5.10a,
was a challenge but very achievable. It was and is one of the
must-do's in the Valley. Jamie carried on about the quality of the
climb, and then stopped herself, "Wait, I've got the guidebook in my
truck." She returned with the guidebook, and as Kari, Jamie, and I
leafed through it, we came across a cut-off margin where the topo for
Middle Cathedral should have been. Cutting the page out of a
guidebook is a common strategy for climbers on big multi-pitch routes
because a single sheet of paper weighs a lot less than a 300 page
bound book. Jamie apologized that she didn't have the topo and
figured that she had left it with her climbing partner who was still
in Yosemite. Despite this, she raved about the route and told us that
we absolutely had to do the climb.
During that summer in Sewanee I worked two of the requisite jobs for a
Snowdenite: flipping burgers at Shenanigans and painting houses with
George Dick. I can honestly say that both have served me well, as I
can still make a mean spiced turkey melt, and I think of George every
time I wield a paintbrush. Given that both of these are somewhat
dirty jobs, I tended to wear a set of work clothes during the day that
I would change out of in the evening. A few days after Jamie left, it
was back to the grind, so I pulled on a pair of paint-daubed
houndstooth shorts that had been laying against the upstairs bedroom
wall for several days. Why I chose those shorts, I do not know,
except that they were already dirty so what was another few days of
paint and grease? When I pulled them on, I noticed a piece of paper
in the back pocket. I had hoped it was some cash that had escaped my
notice, but instead, I pulled out a folded up, thicker-than-usual,
shorter-than-usual, white piece of paper with black line work. Once I
unfolded it, I almost fell over when I saw that it was was Jamie's
topo of the East Buttress of Middle Cathedral! It was the right page
number, and I could see the relatively clean cut that had been made
with scissors from a leatherman or swiss army knife.
How?? Why? Who can say. There is no explanation for the skeptic.
Jamie did not believe that she had the topo; she did not go upstairs
to the room where my shorts were; I had had no access to the guidebook
since it was in Jamie's truck prior to her bringing it inside and us
mutually and coevally discovering the missing page. Not only that, I
did not wear those houndstooth shorts for at least a week spanning
Jamie's time in Sewanee.
I was not a big believer in ghosts until I lived for several weeks in
Bran Potter's house. Indeed, the Potter ghost was (is) a benevolent
ghost. That he could somehow magically deliver the lost page that had
gone off to Lord only knows where is incredible, extraordinary.
And, if you must know, I had too much trepidation about the whole
affair to attempt the East Buttress of Middle Cathedral! Some may
have taken the topo turning up in my pocket as an auspicious gift, one
that should have been capitalized upon at first opportunity. I, on
the other hand, had more of an ominous feeling--the route delivered by
the ghost. Perhaps I would join him in the ether-of-the-between if I
attempted the route. After all, I had just returned from a year in
the mountains and had known people who had been killed while climbing.
So, to this day, despite having climbed at least 40 days in Yosemite
Valley over the last 13 years on numerous classic routes, I _still_
have not climbed the East Buttress of Middle Cathedral.
good luck with your compilation,
Jason
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After Christmas, I sailed from
I took my boat up the coast of
That was the plan.
I only wanted to repair my sails, paint the deck, and look at some means of alternate propulsion—like an outboard engine bracket. To the south of the
But plans change. . .
I received an email from my sister saying that our father was diagnosed with leukemia. Being 80, he refused Chemo- and chose to die at home with his family. Even though my dad was always an extraordinarily healthy person, his illness somehow wasn’t a surprise to me. I don’t know why.
I told Zeke that I would perhaps not be leaving with my boat in a week or two, but would instead be leaving without my boat and could not be certain of the time of my return.
Zeke was more than accommodating. He assisted in helping me find the best tickets home. He assured me of the safety of Araby. We agreed that he would pay my friend Malou to swab the inside of my boat once every two weeks (for mould). (This would cost me a dollar.)
I spent a day in boat prep and left the following day. I flew to
I find it rare to be in a place and in a time where there is no doubt. . . no doubt at all. . . that you are exactly where you should be, doing exactly the thing that you should do. So much is hidden from us in life that we must constantly wonder, ‘what if. . . ?’ To not have that question is special.
I’ve only felt so grounded in my life once before, and that was the time of the death of my mother.
And yet this time is so very different, nearly diametrically opposed in certain respects, to the last time:
My mom was young, my dad was old; my mom was in an accident, my dad had a disease; my mom’s time in the hospital was short, only two weeks; my father never went to the hospital, his time of dying was two months; my mom’s spirit blew out like a candle, my father’s lingered, savoring the time to make peace.
They felt very different to me. I rarely thought of my mother in this time unless my father mentioned her. If you haven’t experienced the dying process, it is interesting to learn the patterns carried on by those moving on. And it is surprising to learn how eerily universal the patterns and behavior can be.
Blondell is my ‘other’ mother. She has raised me since I was born. She has been caregiver to the passing of both of her parents in the last two years.
She said this: “When they start talking to the dead, it won’t be long.”
Blonny was my guide through this process. And Susan Ueling, the hospice nurse, who was more wonderful than I can possibly explain. They taught me what to expect and what to be aware of, what would matter down the road.
He ate. He occasionally had company. He was weak and slowly grew weaker. First he would sit in his chair for much of the day, but after a month, he more and more rarely moved from the bed.
He ate well. Friends and family brought food daily. It was a tough (but wonderful) job for me to eat the myriads of leftovers. He woke every morning thinking he was four miles from home. “I think we’ll go home today,” he’d say. Then he’d laugh at how impossible his mind was. “I’m confused. I’ve never been so confused.” Everyday.
As the weeks passed he spent more and more time in some degree of delirium. And his body slowly withered with his mind. He was still determined to go to the bathroom on his own and this was the greatest risk to his health. We had to set up a baby monitor in his room and listened to it intently for the squeaking of his chair or the rustling of his bed. If he was confused he may choose to ignore his walker.
My mandate was to keep him home, to keep him safe. To let him fall and injure himself was my greatest concern. He was in little pain and was sparsely medicated. He was comfortable, well fed, and surrounded by family. A fall could ruin that.
For the last two months of my father’s life I slept in the bed next to him. He would regularly get up twice in the night to pee, but he was also most confused in the night, and had a mild propensity for nocturnal ventures.
Before I came home, my sister found him in the kitchen wearing a suit at
“Dad, what are you doing?” he was asked.
“What time is it?”
“It
“Damn, I was supposed to be dead half an hour ago.”
We tried to log his more memorable saying in a small notebook.
On a sailboat, you become accustomed to sleeping lightly or waking up to any change of sound. Therefore, the night watch was mostly mine. As the weeks passed, I was more regularly called Burwell at night. Burwell is my dad’s dead brother.
He was an incredible patient from start to finish. He never would tell you when he wanted to get up, but he was always kind, always accepting of the care we gave him. He’d take his pills without a fuss, he’d let me bathe him, clean him, change him, all the control we find so difficult to release. My dad died gracefully.
There were luminous moments. He was living mostly in dream and memory. One morning I asked him about his favorite pony—polo being his undying passion. He took me through years of polo and Argentine ponies named, Pistol, Vanessa, Poker Chip, and of course, the one that got away. And how his face would light up in the telling. . .
One morning he woke up and said, “I was not aware that I owned the whole world.”
Other times he’d wake up and ask to call Leila, or my mother, Bootsie. Both are long passed away.
Or ask me to call Jeff and tell him that he was very sorry but they’d have to reschedule and play 18 holes next week.
I’ve never spent more time with my father. I’ve never felt closer to my father, never had the opportunity to give so much back to him. He’s always provided so much for me. He told his girlfriend that he was afraid to die alone. Our whole family was determined not to let him.
After nearly two months of slow decline, he woke one morning markedly different. He hardly opened his eyes; he could only mumble. At this point he had already declined to such a place that we guessed his time to be within two weeks. I had the day off of work and was going to the farm to bury my brother’s truck in a pond and then see if we could excavate it. My sister Mary Locke was with Dad.
When we returned we were amazed at his change. His lips had become so chapped that they cracked against his teeth and bled. He was unable to drink water.
That same day, a friend came from out of town to see her grandmother (who wasn't well) and invited me over for a dinner party. I went.
At the party was a family friend named Becky who had just lost her husband to cancer in the last few months. We sat alone and talked for an hour. It was amazing time and I felt so grateful for it. It instilled in me the sanctity of this time of life. . . and death.
“Do all you can do, now. You never want to think, ‘if only I had done more,’” she said.
Later that night my brother Will called and said I may want to come home. I hugged my friend’s goodbye and drove home.
Dad was really struggling to breathe now. For the first time, he was fighting. He swung between being too hot and sweating, and the chills. Mary Locke had to cover him with towels to catch the perspiration and was changing them regularly.
It was amazing to see how fast he had declined. Susan Ueling said to administer morphine each hour. It was more for our comfort that his, however. He had less than two days now.
I relieved Mary Locke and, the tv being on already, thought I might watch a movie. I flipped a few channels and then realized that the room had gone quiet. I looked at my Old Man and he was breathing quietly. I quickly turned off the tv and swung around to sit next to him Indian-style on the bed. I held his hand and told him that it was okay (Beckie McCutchen had said this was so important). “It’s okay Dad. You can let go. We’ll be fine. If I could, I’d walk down that path with you, but I can’t. It’s only for you. My time’s not come.”
His breathing was so soft. And then it stopped.
I smiled. . . amazed. There it was. He was gone.
And then he took a deep long breath again. . . and once more started breathing softly. I laughed to myself and told Dad that he had tricked me; I had thought he had taken the last walk.
. . . and then he stopped breathing once more.
I wasn’t going to be so easily fooled this time, however. I waited, quietly holding his hand. Once again he breathed deeply. . . he took a few peaceful shallow breaths. . . and was still once more.
And those were the last breaths he ever took.
I figured I’d wait to be sure. Death apparently wasn’t so black and white as I had thought. He had no pulse that I could find. I could hear nothing from his lungs. After ten minutes I called my sister and brother. It was
An hour later Susan Ueling came over and we dressed him and called the morgue. They agreed to come in the morning for his body, after the family could have a chance to view him. I cleaned up all the medical things, all walkers, wheel chairs, oxygen tanks, towels, ect. I made his room look like it always had.
He was wearing his white slacks, black belt, and a pink Brooks Brothers shirt (and his bedroom slippers).
My dad took a nap every single day after his lunch. Dressed and laying in his bed, he looked just like he was napping.
Chappelle Heath Manning, 80, of Columbia died Sunday. He was born January 22, 1928, the eldest son of Katharine Heath Manning Perry and Burwell Deas Manning of Columbia. He attended Episcopal High School and the University of Virginia and served in the United States Marine Corps during World War II. Upon his return from military service, he began his career in real estate and was the founder of the Manning Company. He was instrumental in the development of Lake Katharine, Dutch Square Mall, WildeWood, and Woodcreek Farms. He also founded Palmetto Utilities, Inc. which was instrumental in the growth of northeast Richland County.
He served in the South Carolina House of Representatives in the early 1960s.
An avid horseman, Mr. Manning served as President of the Columbia Polo Association and was Chairman of the US Polo Association Handicap Committee and Training Foundation for many years. He was the owner of Lugoff Farms where he spent countless hours hunting and watching ducks with his family.
Mr. Manning was an active member of numerous clubs and civic organizations in Columbia, Camden and Aiken.
He is predeceased by a sister Leila Manning Cart, a brother Burwell Deas Manning, Jr., his wife Mary Elizabeth Holliday Manning, and a son Chappelle Heath Manning, Jr. He is survived by children Jean Elliott Manning, Mary Locke Manning Oliphant (Murray), Dibble R. Manning (Carla), John L. Manning, Joseph William Holliday Manning and Charles Tennant Heath Manning. He is also survived by grandchildren, Chappelle Heath Manning, III; Baker Patterson Manning; Martha Louis Patterson Manning; Mary Hunter Chamberlain; Alexander Pierce Manning; Preston Clarke Manning; and Samuel August Manning.
The funeral will be held at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral Tuesday at 2:00 pm. The family will receive visitors at Mr. Manning's home at 128 Holliday Road afterwards. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that memorials be made to Palmetto Health and Hospice or the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral Foundation.
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