Tag: family

Photo by Joe WilcoxApr 22, 202410:22 pm

Father-Son Moment

My father and I weren’t distant, but we weren’t exactly close either—mainly because our characters were markedly different. I wasn’t the son he had wanted, and Dad didn’t get another. I am eldest of four siblings (three sisters).

Stated succinctly: We shared almost no interests in common, and our dispositions were lightyears apart. I am fairly easygoing, while he was one of the most controlling persons I have ever met—oh, gosh, but not in a brutal, cruel way like parents who beat their kids or spouses. He was simply demanding of everyone, but, to reiterate, not violent by any means. That said, mom divorced him when I was 13, and his departure was a relief.

Photo by Joe WilcoxApr 17, 202410:53 pm

Dad and Daughter

My father’s death yesterday ends one saga and begins another. His grandfather purchased the farm in 1895, and the core property has remained continuously with the Wilcox clan. At one time, the expanse topped 200 acres. But portions were sold off decades upon decades ago, leaving 100 acres—60 of which is for farming and the rest is woodland.

Dad chose not to leave the portion over which he has title—nearly two-thirds, including the buildings—to family. His pastors, a married couple—and not their church—are the inheritors. The arrangement isn’t some surprise; he made clear his intentions years ago.

Photo by Joe WilcoxApr 16, 20249:43 pm

For Dad

My Father has passed away—40 days exactly since life-saving treatment suspended and he left the hospital to decline in his home. A few minutes after 9 this morning, my sister Nan telephoned to say that Dad had taken a sharp turn downward and wasn’t expected the last much longer. She called again, almost exactly four hours later, to let me know he was gone.

Some weeks ago, Nan asked me to write the obituary—a task I resisted. Top reason: In this age of Artificial Intelligence scanning and rampant criminal scamming, I was reluctant to share much family information publicly. For some people, death is an opportunity to take advantage of others in their grief.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMar 9, 20249:36 pm

The Son and Father Fishing

Dad is at his home on the family farm, in a hospital bed, and cared for 24 hours a day—mainly by the pastors of the local church, supported by (I think) hospice caretakers. He is lucid, but declining, which is his wish based on other health considerations. The man has proved to be physically stronger than the doctors predicted, however. Our Wilcox clan comes from hearty stock.

My parents eloped to Canada at age 16. The eldest child, I was born just as mom turned 18. My parents always seemed young to me, because they were. Only as an adult did I understand how much and the ways we kind of grew up together.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 24, 20249:18 pm

A Touch of Color

For the Aroostook County, Maine trip a week ago—to see Dad while we still could—my sister and I stayed with our beloved aunt. Her husband, and naturally our uncle, was Washburn fire chief for two decades. He passed away in August 2020. I was humbled by opportunity to sleep in his bed, over which a portrait of him in uniform looked.

The Featured Image and companion of brother and sister (my uncle and mom) are opportunity to show off some of the AI-enhanced capabilities of Samsung Photo Assist. I edited both portraits on Galaxy S24 Ultra. The second, made more monochrome, is for reference to the first, which is colorized.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 23, 20249:59 pm

A Maine Reflection

The weekend trip to Aroostook County, Maine, ended Feb. 19, 2024, when my sister and I joined a full flight of passengers flying from Presque Isle. Scheduled for 6:15 a.m. EST, the jet took off late due to deicing of the wings. Travel to Maine had been sudden, and unplanned; the ravages of old age accelerate, and we can’t know how long Dad will last.

As the aircraft lifted off the ground, I wondered about the abnormally low amount of snowfall; chuckled thinking about my father’s absolutely adorable and friendly Shih Tzu dogs; and longed to see more wildlife outside the Solarium windows.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 22, 20249:27 pm

They Come to Eat

On the second—and last—day visiting Dad, he asked my sister to take out scraps for the birds. She put them beside the building just below the big windows looking out onto the backyard. She calls the room, where his little dogs like to sun, the Solarium.

During the course of the afternoon, I observed birds and several red squirrels come by for grab-and-go snacks. The glass was clean enough that I could shoot through the window, using Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra. The Featured Image sets the mood for the set. Look sharp for the red squirrel. Vitals: f/3.4, ISO 32, 1/900 sec, (synthetic) 230mm (digital and optical zoom); 1:58 p.m. EST, Feb. 18, 2024.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 21, 20249:27 pm

Dad’s Dogs

The first morning in Aroostook County, my sister and I left our Aunt’s house to be greeted by a balmy air temperature of -10 Celsius (14 Fahrenheit). The next day: -17 C (1 F). Brrr. By the way, -40 is where the two scales of measurement meet—and, yes, Northern Maine absolutely does get so cold.

Dad’s dogs are the cutest ever. The Shih Tzu littermates are about three years old, and they are litter pan trained. Think about it. Would you want to take out two little dogs to do their business when it’s so cold outside. Wind blows constantly at the family farm, so think colder.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 20, 202410:40 pm

That’s Not a Lot of Snow

My hometown of Caribou, Maine averages about 279 cm (110 inches) of snow per season, which typically spans from mid-November to late April. But October isn’t too early or May too late for a dusting or meaningful accumulation. Depending on your measure of cold and snow, winter is as long as six months.

But 2023-24 is anything but typical. Snowfall is significantly below normal. According to outdoor enthusiast site Snoflo: “Snowpack levels across the state are currently 35 percent of normal. The deepest snowpack in Maine was last observed at Caribou Wfo [Weather Forecast office] with a snowpack depth of 7 inches [17.8 cm], about 35 percent of normal when compared to it’s 20 inches [51 cm] average depth for this time of year”.

Photo by Joe WilcoxFeb 19, 202410:24 pm

I Could Have Saved Nine Dollars

Posting resumes, following an unplanned hiatus. Dad is in a state of physical decline, and concern grows about how long he will be with us. One of my sisters asked me to join her—she from Florida, me from California—for a Presidents’ Day holiday weekend trip home, which is Aroostook County, Maine. I logged 2,950 air miles each way.

My trip started in San Diego and first stopped in Los Angeles, following a 22-minute flight with connection to Newark and onward to final destination Presque Isle. Hungry, I grabbed a burger while at LAX. I shot the Featured Image, using Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra, while waiting for my $20.25 beef patty.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJan 12, 20249:24 pm

When We Wed

Thirty-five years ago, today, Annie and I joined 1,274 other couples in our blessed marriage ceremony. We drank holy wine, signifying change of lineage; marched in procession for sprinkling of holy water; and acknowledged our wedding vows.

As explained in the three previous installments, between Jan. 9-12, 1989, we were matched by the True Parent, became acquainted, and got to know one another—all in Yongin, Korea.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJan 11, 20249:35 pm

Where We Posed

The third of four installments for our 35th blessed marriage anniversary is a bit out of sequence. Annie wears a ring in the Featured Image, so the ceremony already had taken place. The official wedding photo, she in her gown, comes tomorrow.

We were matched, became acquainted, and were wed in Yongin, Korea, which is about 43 km (26 miles) south of Seoul. I don’t much remember the locale.