This is going to be maudlin, folks. Get over it.
UPDATE: Clare’s memorial in Detroit will be in the Oriental Garden (weather permitting) on 29 June, or the Kingswood Lobby if needed. The Grand Haven memorial will not take place. Contact me directly if you have questions.
I met my Brown-Eyed Girl in May of 1972 behind her house on Faculty Way at Cranbrook, one of the most exclusive private schools in the United States. We talked about…I have no idea what now, but I was smitten, hopelessly, by a warm, dimpled faculty brat who seemed to care about what I thought. And I didn’t know her name; I wouldn’t know it for a while.
For whatever reason I was in the dining hall, terrified for some reason and looking for a place to sit when Pete Dewitt, one of my housemasters, invited me down to his on-campus house and introduced his daughter, Clareann, who went by Clare…that warm, dimpled faculty brat.
And I kept coming back. I laughed with her older sister Karolyn and brother Peter, talked with her parents Peter and Elizabeth about my future, broke bread with cousins and grandmothers and felt as if I were family. They soon came to call me Friday’s Child because I came down from the dorms almost every Friday, even after I graduated in ’73 and joined the Army.
And I went to her brother Pete’s wedding in ’74…then to Clare’s in ’78. That hurt so much I thought I’d bust, but I had to be happy for her. I got a job in Wisconsin and moved, then sent her a plant when her daughter was born in May ’79. I saw her at Karolyn’s wedding that October, and she looked happy.
I kept coming back to the Dewitt’s on vacation. Next time I saw my Brown-Eyed Girl was December ’80, and she had separated from her husband. The next year I tried very hard to get us together, but she believed her family would have objected to any marriage between us. On April Fools Day 1982 I had my first date with my future wife, Evelyne in Wisconsin, and in one way or another, we’ve been together ever since. I hurt Clare when I told her that I had found the Girl of My Dreams, but we both agreed that we were impossible and she wished me well.
But as Evelyne well knows, my Brown-Eyed Girl was never far from my thoughts.
Clare and I didn’t speak again for seven years when she called me out of the blue. We talked off and on again for years; she called me when her father passed in ’99, and again when her mother passed in ’04. That time, Ev said, “let’s go.” So we went. And it was then that Clare told me that she’d completely misread her family’s attitudes towards me, right after I apologized for hurting her so badly 22 years before.
From such moments are whole movie franchises born.
We communicated regularly after that, trading visits to Michigan and Wisconsin, phone calls, emails, and texts. She made freinds with Evelyne–a blessing I still cherish–and came to my mother’s wake in ’12; I came to her sister Karolyn’s in ’15. That was hard on her because she’d often talked about retiring with Karolyn when the time came.
I last saw my Brown-Eyed Girl in June 2018, when we were in Detroit for my 45th reunion. As it happened, Pete’s wife of 44 years had just succumbed to cancer a few weeks before, and I saw then that something was broken in Clare. She was tired, working a job she had loved but no longer, and worn out from it. I had trouble connecting with her after that. Communications were always irregular, but she didn’t acknowledge my texts for her birthday, Christmas or New Year’s. After I tried calling after that; she finally called me back, said she was fine, worried about her brother. She didn’t sound fine. That was February.
On Monday 18 March 2019, my Brown-Eyed Girl Clareann Mersbach Dewitt Thompson passed away suddenly in her home in Ferndale, Michigan, the day after the 35th anniversary of my marriage to Evelyne. Her brother Pete called me the day after. I’ve spoken with her daughter Shannon and Pete since: there will be a memorial in early summer. I will attend, to say goodbye to my sweet Brown-Eyed Girl who was the first girl I ever loved who loved me back.
And every time I asked, she never remembered when we first met behind her house on Faculty Way…not that it mattered four loving decades later.
So long, kid. We’ll see you on the other side. I know we will.
Rethinking is allowed, especially when your database gets corrupted and your oldest friend dies suddenly.
For the past several years, I’ve been building a database of events on an Outlook Calendar. Today (February), when I started putting together the April blog entries, I discovered that the latest “improvement” to the online version of Outlook corrupted much of my data, effectively deleting hundreds of events and national days from the individual days by unhelpfully adding end dates to them. While I found ways to recover them, they are work-intensive and tedious–not how I wanted to spend my time.
Thus, I find a need to pause, reflect, and figure out what to do about this blog. The purpose is to sell books, which it has failed to do, regrettably. In a good week I get maybe 200 views, mostly on LinkedIn, and one or two likes. The blog itself has less than a hundred followers.
So who am I kidding?
Sure, I want to sell books…lots of books. Unfortunately this isn’t the way it’s happening. I either lack the sales acumen to make my work attractive to potential book-buyers, or I don’t write well enough to attract readers.
So the question is, what to do? The WordPress subscription ain’t cheap, and it ain’t paying for itself. What’s going to happen is I’ll change my plan this month, and what effect that has is unclear. The domain, https://jdbcom.com will stay around, and the archives will be here, but four or five entries a month? Eh, methinks not, not the way I’ve been doing it. Just how is a current mystery.
Fear not, regular readers (both of you); dead the blog shall not be. Transformed, maybe. Weekly, not in current content format, no. But this is April…perhaps by May I’ll figure it out.