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Here are two vessels that I made, some coffee in the smaller one, and “The Original Decadent Salted Caramel Bar,” which is only 210 calories per bar, but 1,680 calories if you have all 8, which I did, in a mere 9-1/2 hours, mostly last evening, with the last one left over for breakfast.

 

“Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.” That is what is inscribed on the larger vessel. I am practicing ersatz stonecutting for the sake of the urn I will make that will house my late brother Brian’s ashes. When I read from the New Testament at the urging of a college roommate of mine more than 40 years ago, the story of the bigshot who thought he was praying but instead was bragging about his accomplishments, compared to a truly humbled and penitent soul TRULY praying by saying these simple words. struck me as the heart of the matter. I have said this prayer dozens of times, fingers interlaced, in the last 40 years, though to me it’s a “message in a bottle” prayer that may not be heard. And “Lord” seems to be shorthand for “Whatever makes and sustains us.”

But to my brother Brian the  words needed no analogizing. He was a Christian through and through, including humility. The words fit him.

Most likely, though, other words will be on Brian’s urn– something like WITHIN◇THIS◇VESSEL◇ARE◇THE◇EARTHLY◇REMAINS◇OF◇BRIAN◇CLEMENS◇BOWERS◇1957-2018◇BELOVÉD SON◇BROTHER◇UNCLE◇HUSBAND◇NEPHEW◇COUSIN◇OUTLAW◇REQUIESCAT◇IN◇PACE. As I imagine it, these words will wrap around and around the vessel, which will be placed on a rotatable platform. Of course I will ask my family to review and evaluate a prototype before I proceed.

Sincere and humble thanks to whatever creates and sustains us.

 

brian and his dog

My brother Brian Clemens Bowers, seen here with his dog Fluster, died peacefully of natural causes last Monday. Here is the obituary I wrote for him, with help from my family:

Brian Bowers, 61, crossed the finish line of his life’s journey peacefully in his home in Phoenix, Arizona on August 6, 2018.

Brian gave of himself generously, with no thought of reward, throughout his life. Street people were his sisters and brothers. And he was a vagabond Santa Claus to his many nieces and nephews, despite being dirt-poor, because he tirelessly searched in thrift stores, swap meets and yard sales for the perfect gift for each individual.

He was also an outstanding caregiver, first for his grandfather “Papa” during the last four months of Papa’s life in 1987, and more recently for his mother Jane Bowers Stoneman, from the time of her husband Marty’s death in 2014 up to the very week that Brian died. He performed numberless household and yard chores, and 24/7 caregiving, for Jane, despite his own medical issues, which included severe back trouble, liver problems, and two major cancer surgeries.

Brian loved music, and in his handwritten Last Will and Testament directed his mother to take her pick of his many CDs and concert DVDs and then offer them to his nieces and nephews. He also expressed hope that none of his other possessions, including the food on his shelves and in his refrigerator, would go to waste.

Brian’s life’s journey led him to a stint at UPS; a glorious championship season as a Little League coach; an all-too-brief yet joyous marriage to Lira, the love of his life, who died tragically young; at least two years of homelessness due to hard drug use; a stay at Joe Arpaio’s Tent City; and then the triumph of becoming clean and sober with the great and gracious help of faith-based Streets of Joy and Victory Outreach. In Brian’s final years he became a committed member of Faith Assembly of God. Christianity became his salvation.

Brian met the enormous challenges of his circumstances with great courage, immense love in his heart, and an unquenchable sense of fun. Those who survive him include his mother, Jane Bowers Stoneman; brothers Harold and Gary; stepbrothers Cary, Dan, Tod, and Glenn Stoneman; his beloved Aunt Diane; and a host of nieces, nephews, cousins, and friends. He leaves these loved ones with a fine set of remembrances of his love.

Here is Brian’s handwritten Last Will and Testament:

brian last will

Here is the transcript, mildly edited by his loving and grieving brother:

Last Will and Testament, November 24, 2012

I, Brian Bowers, being of sound mind, body, and spirit, do hereby appoint my mother Jane Bowers Stoneman to receive everything I own. One 1979 Datsun 260Z; one 1987 Nissan Pulsar NX SE; everything in the back house at [address] as well as everything I may own in the storage sheds and cabinets.

My wish is that she would direct the distribution of my assets; allow each of my nieces and nephew, one at a time, to choose any of my CDs and concert DVDs that they may want (of course, that’s after Mom takes what she wants); then allow blood kin to choose anything as remembrance or enjoyment. My Mother is in charge of any distribution of anything. I would hope that any of my food not go to waste.

My computer and TVs may be given or kept by my mother.

I would hope my brothers would get something as well.

Thanks

signed Brian C. Bowers
November 24, 2012

Here is an array of medications Brian kept at his bedside:

brian pills

Finally, here is a poem I wrote this morning, meant to go with the above image:

no refills

1

let’s check you out

your lumbar grinds
you tend to seize
your bp is up there

you had this operation
so you need this this and this
and that procedure
so here is that and that

and now you have side effects
so here’s this for logy
that for grouchy
and the other just because you hurt

take them once and twice and thrice a day
with and without food

diet? exercise?
not our department

2

let’s check you out

you are calm–good
zero chance of seizure–excellent
no pain whatsoever–truly fine

and non-instruments detect
waves and waves of love
washing over you and through you

your reward awaits

you won’t be needing these any more

2016-06-02 09.45.13

In Love of a Brother (part 1) I promised transcription and annotation. Here goes:

Love of a Brother x 3

Lo & beholden, the Sun may absorb
One of your handicaps 2 trot
Vivaciously–and breathe
ENERGY into Another

Brian spent a lot of time in the Phoenix sun with his cardboard sign. Once I was driving and I saw him on an island. We had ten seconds or so of good conversation, then the traffic demanded I go. I gave him a ten-spot to help him through his day.

Look at a once-called Ozob
Once a scruffy panhandler
Verily & forsooth
Endgames are a bother

Brian acquired the nickname Ozob during school. It is Bozo backwards.

Last fortune cookie said Life Is A Verb
Out of the mouths of cookies oft comes Favor
Viceissitudes lay low my bro
Eternal as delayed Godot
Obstruction’s a real bitch
Forceps & clamps to the fore
And verbalize LIFE for my brother

I was solo at China Chili, where Brian and Mom and I have been known to go, it being near Mom’s house, a few days ago. My fortune cookie said “Life is a verb.” It really did. Shortest fortune I ever got, and one of the most cryptic. I apply all its force to Brian’s upcoming surgery . . .

Finally, today I tried to settle down and sum up Brian in as few words as possible. Foremost to mind was the fact that he is a widower, and his deceased wife Lira, a true sweetheart, was the love of Brian’s life.

Lira’s man–Ozob
Outlaw–storyteller
Vagabond too
Empathetic host
Often in Dutch [trouble]
Fighter with a cause
A true Survivor

Today I went to help my brother Brian with yardwork and carport/shed hauling. I yelled at him when he pitched in to the point of reaching as high as he could to clip some branches on the small tree. I lectured him about trying to be a player/coach when at this time he needed to be just a coach. “When you coach a softball team, you can’t go out in the field with the guys,” I said. (Brian had been a Little League coach–a good one–some years back.)

Later I apologized for yelling at him. He said it was OK and I was right and he needed to keep in check.

The thing is, Brian is going to the hospital for cancer surgery next Tuesday. He has an IV port in his chest that has been there since his chemotherapy a couple of months ago. Most of the available veins–aren’t.

Brian has been to Hell on his own dime via street life, incarceration, and hard drug use. This century he has trekked back out of Hell heroically, and gives a lot of credit to the faith-based service organizations Streets of Joy and Victory Outreach. He has even (miraculously!) stopped smoking, giving up a habit he’d had since his teens.

But now, the malignant mass having had its growth stunned and stunted as much as possible via chemo and radiation, the docs are going in to remove the mass, and part of Brian’s body with it. And he is far more calm and collected about it than I am.

It is rectal cancer, the same thing that claimed our grandfather back in 1987. Brian knows exactly what he’s in for, because he was Papa’s caregiver in the last four months of Papa’s life.

It is possible that Brian’s long stint of living on the edge has  helped prepare him for this next challenge. It’s also possible that he’s just putting on a brave front, but I doubt it. I think I would know. I’ve known him all his life.

And I love him. He is a great brother. He would do anything for family, including me. He is especially generous to the homeless. All are his brothers and sisters.

But this brother is having a hard time with this harsh reality, and has turned to creative expression as a means of coping. You’ll see some of the chaos of panic in the card below . . .

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Part 2 will include transcription and annotation. Meanwhile, Brian has given me permission to ask all who read this to pray for him. He believes in the power of prayer, and I believe in the power of Brian plus prayer. Friends, please pray for my beloved brother Brian.

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This page is about Sainthood–Sainthood in my book, anyway. The prime criterion for Sainthood, seems to me, is Kindness. So I surround my four modest acrosticized lines with eight of the Kindest people I know, and I draw two of them.

Here are the words to the acrostic:

O Saints who call Urchins ma cher/mon petit
No matter if helping O. Twist or Pu Yi
Come teach us a lesson on living a Dream
Enfolded in Kindness with Love as its theme

Here are the people I’ve listed:

Judy Green-Davis
Jack Evans
Charlene Sims
Dick Wilkinson
Diane Norrbom
Cary Stoneman
Barbara Mills
Brian Bowers

Judy, either about to be ordained or just ordained, is married to Jack, “the Godfather of Phoenix poetry,” who’s been a volunteer at an assisted living center and who hosts both poetry events and movie viewings. Charlene, also known as Starry Bright, taught me an important lesson in empathy with her blog post about the three gatekeepers we need before we say anything. Dick Wilkinson is a ninety-two-years-young philosopher and raconteur, gentle and wise. Diane Norrbom is one of our family matriarchs and a goddess of nurturing. Cary stood by me and calmed my nervousness on my wedding day, December 10, 1988, and has given of himself to family and friends numberless times before and since. Barbara, also known as Hobbit, has made a career of elementary-school teaching, and her poetry reveals extraordinary depths of wisdom and caring. Brian, my brother both biologically and spiritually, nursed our grandfather in the last months of his life, comforting a dying man in great pain as no other could. Whatever I can do to honor these fine people, it’s not enough.