A Visit from Pap

I awoke this morning to Jeremy snuggling me and telling me that I had been laughing in my sleep. I immediately got teary-eyed, because I'd been dreaming about my Pap. I had actually dreamed many crazy things last night, but the very last dream I had, (after having woken up and fallen back to sleep around about a quarter to seven), was that I was in Florida with my Gram, and my Pap was back. Just for one day. And it was silently understood that it was just for one day.

Gram got out the back of a black car to meet me, coming out behind her was my Pap! It was kind of like a silent movie, for the most part, as all the talking was more of a telepathic communication combined with visual facial expression, but there was complete understanding. He got out of the back seat of the car, looking much like he used to when I last saw him well, but so refreshed, clean, rejuvenated, and. . .happy. He was calm and happy, and aware of life in a whole sense. Like he'd been away somewhere where he'd learned all he'd ever wanted to know, and was now fulfilled and content with himself and everyone around him.

I looked at Gram, as if to say, "Can you believe this? Pap is standing here with us looking GREAT!", and Gram gave me a knowing look as if to say, "well, of course he is", and "this is temporary". I was thrilled to see Pap look so relaxed and at ease, and serene. He was smiling, a closed-mouth, peaceful smile. His eyes were smiling, more than anything else. He was wearing a light blue ball cap and a collared plaid short-sleeved shirt, a light cotton dress shirt. I'm not sure about his pants, but they were light blue, too, I think.

The middle part us a blur, but just to see Pap get around so easily, (he was so strong and healthy) brought me so much joy. He moved like he did when he was still playing Senior Softball. Agile, quick, able to help Grandma get around. He was there for her, too, I could tell. That's why he'd come. And I was simply the lucky sidekick. I was allowed to be there for this, and I was grateful for it. Because I knew his time was limited.

The last thing I remember is Gram and Pap and I were in a small room, and I was having to say goodbye. I stood up, (Pap is a tall man) and I got to HUG him. And I wasn't sad at all. And he was being funny, and I was laughing. And I can't remember exactly what I said to him, but I told him I would miss him, and that I was happy to have visited with him again. And then he was gone. And it was just me and Gram in the small room. And Gram wasn't sad at all, either. She was going about her daily chores, talking about Pap, rolling her eyes at his quirks, and his silly self, and just going about her day as usual. And this made me laugh, too. And then, I woke up.

So thanks, Pap. It's good to know you're all better now. Thanks for visiting with me. I'll see you on the flipside. Until then, please feel free to visit me anytime. . .as long as I am sleeping. (Otherwise you might just scare the crap out of me.) Love you.

Corny

Pap and Me, Christmas 2007

As late as it is, and as much as I have to do, I should be getting ready for bed, but I cannot rest until I've paid my respects to my Pap Dasch who passed away this morning around 8AM in sunny Florida.

He had moved down to Florida almost a year ago with my Gram (who I love dearly), to escape the cold, be nearer to my aunt and her children, and get some much-needed care for his ailing self.

He'd gotten quite frail over the last two years. I never quite got used to it, for he'd always been active, even into his seventies. He'd won a silver medal for table tennis in a senior olympics, had made occasional trips up to Pittsburgh from Maryland to visit friends and family, and had played on a seniors only softball league.

He was a character. He'd struggled with his mood his whole life, and it ultimately got the best of him. In spite of his faults, he'd always treated me well, making me laugh, even at his infamous stubbornness.

In his youth he'd played piano (or so I'd been told), and once I actually got to see it. I'd spent many summer visits (during my grade school years) banging on Gram and Pap's out of tune Yamaha upright piano. I loved it. Gram never minded my creative banging, (or so she led me to believe), and I thought for sure she was an honest and true fan of my "song-writing". Pap would ultimately come in from someplace during one of my piano sessions, and snarl, "banging", and shaking his head at my efforts. This became a regular event for anytime I chose to play the piano.

One day, (and only one day), while I'd been "banging" he actually had motioned for me to step aside, at which time he chose to cut loose on the piano with a Boogie-Woogie that would have made Jerry Lee Lewis proud. Then he got up and left. And I never saw him play that piano again. But he continued to tolerate my banging. I guess the music lover in him decided he could tolerate such creative experiments, even from a child.

Pap was also very funny, mostly not because he said funny things, (well, ok, he did say funny things),but because he dared to say many things that were only funny to him, thus cracking himself up in the process. The man was, as my father would refer to him, "a howl".

No one is perfect. I wonder how his childhood shaped him. I wonder how long he struggled with certain things. I wonder why he chose not to amend certain things before his passing. I wonder where he is now. I know he liked Julie Andrews, Karen Carpenter, and Nat King Cole.

There were high school years where he and my Gram came to many of my school concerts and shows. On one occasion they came to hear my high school choir sing at the courthouse in downtown Bel Air (Maryland). On the walk back to school, I could see my Pap waving at me from across the street where he and Gram had parked, yelling to me, "CORNY! CORRRRRRNY!", (which is what he always called me), and the girls with whom I was walking, having misheard him, answered back to him, "Good morning, good morrrrrrning!".

They came to see my shows on the riverboats, at Kennywood, Busch Gardens, too. They came to Glen Burnie to La Fontainebleu. Pap enjoyed good, old-fashioned entertainment. I loved that he and Gram could come to so many things. It made me happy.

His name was William, "Bill" Dasch (very German). He was married to my Gram, Mary Dasch (Davis) of Verona, PA. They had four children: My aunt Marilyn, my aunt Kathy, my mom, Lucy, and my aunt Patti. Marilyn has a son, John (who still lives in Verona, PA), my mom has myself and my half-brother, Will. Aunt Kathy has a son, Daniel and a daughter, Anne Claire. Patti has triplets (two boys and a girl), Tristan, Nathan, and Olivia.

For a very long time, my grandma and pap were MY grandma and pap. I didn't have to share them with anyone, (because I was the only grandchild around for quite some time) and I spent many enjoyable, and memorable summer days and nights on their back porch in Verona, (really Penn Hills) PA. Daniel and Anne Claire have gotten to know Gram and Pap very well, as they all lived in the Baltimore area within driving distance from each other for quite some time. Now Tristan, Nathan, and Olivia (who live in Orlando) will get to know Grandma like I do. They will never know the Pap I knew, a much younger Pap. But they will remember him in their own special way.

Love on Grandma for me, kids. Love her LOTS.

Pap, you'll be missed.

Life According to Mel

My best friend of the past 13 years is Mel. She has been my confidant, my rock, my support group, my therapist, my barrel of laughs, and also my cast mate on many tours and road trips.

I am an honorary member of her family.

And today I offer a few glimpses into The World: According to Mel.

Me: (Someone we know) is going to the doctor's to be checked out by Dr. House. (Meaning our friend was going to be seen by a super-duper awesome diagnoser. I also know there is no such word as Diagnoser. )

Mel: That is great. She deserves a great doctor like House. And while we're on the subject, House is foxy. Almost as Foxy as Will Ferrell.

Me: Yeah, okay, I see the attraction of genius, I guess. And I see the attraction to funny-men. I, personally, had a thing for Conan O'Brien in the year 2000. (And by that I actually mean the year, not the comedic bit known by the same name.) You LOVE Will Ferrell. You LOVE him.

Mel: Will Ferrell is foxy, but he's still no David Letterman. (I laugh because she means this. She absolutely means every word of this.) People say they're aghast that David Letterman had an affair, but c'mon. Look at him! He's DAVID LETTERMAN! (At this point, I cannot breathe. I am laughing too hard.)

Me: "Look at him, he's DAVID LETTERMAN"! Ahahahahahahahahaha!!! Bret Michaels I could imagine. . .but you say DAVID LETTERMAN like he's Tom Cruise or Jude Law or Justin Timberlake or something. Or someone who's even mildly attractive. . .

Mel: And speaking of Will Ferrell, by the way, I was thinking that if Ben Roethlisberger had a movie made about him, Will Ferrell should play him.

Me: I WAS THINKING THAT, TOO! I am always thinking that!!!

Mel: (My husband) laughed when I mentioned it to him. Ben's in his twenties and Will Ferrell's in his forties. . .

Me: I don't care! It would be too funny!!!

Mel: I KNOW!

Let me also mention that Mel has three kids.

Mel: (Changing the subject) I like to shop at Giant Eagle. Because 1. They have an Eagle's Nest, and 2. They have a Starbucks. The older kids can play and the baby can just ride in the cart, and I get a Starbucks and it's great.

Me: The World According to Mel: Number One. David Letterman is a Sexy Beast, (only second to Will Ferrell). Number Two. Shop at Giant Eagle. They have an Eagles Nest and a Starbucks. Did you happen to notice you didn't mention that Giant Eagle is an excellent store for groceries?

Mel: Well, I hate shopping for groceries. You know that!

Me: I just find it funny that your two main reason to go to Giant Eagle have nothing to do with buying groceries.

Mel: Well. . .

And there we have it ladies and gents. The World, (so far), According to Mel.

The End