First, a Little Catching-up

After completing Chum for Thought: Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters (2013), I set out to organize and back-up my writing files. I needed to get a handle on the usual collage of duplicates and versions. In the process, I rediscovered some beloved old friends that still give me “that icy tingle up and down my spine.” I’ve finally given some of these prodigal essays a home.

My father died since publishing my first book of essays. I’ve produced two writings about him. The first, “Remembering my Dad” was sized to appear as one of my columns in the Dayton Review. It leads off — right after this. The final essay, “How I Got from There to Here,” is also autobiographical.

“Honoring My Father,” is a natural companion piece that I have decided to not duplicate here. It is a memorium to the goodness in Dad’s life and an ironic take on the circumstances of a dysfunctional funeral. You can find it separately as its own small book. Naturally, I think it is a good read and recommend it to you.

David Satterlee

Story: Going to see Jesse

Information and comments on the story:
Going to see Jesse

from the book: Life Will Get You in the End:
Short stories by David Satterlee (also included in: Honoring My Father: Coming to Terms).

Find out more, including where to buy books and ebooks

Life Will Get You in the End:
Short Stories by David Satterlee

Honoring My Father:
Coming to Terms

This is an (almost completely) true story about old people in love. It is given a stream-of-consciousness treatment that reflects the tender tedium of elder care. It is only right to tell you up front that, by the end, they both die and that most early readers wanted to reach for a tissue and a good friend. 

I was writing and editing for a publishing company in St. George, Utah when they ran out of money to make full payroll. When I told my parents back in Missouri about the development, Mom got on the line and said, “David, we need you here.” My Uncle Ed was eighty-six and had just had hip replacement surgery. He was about to be released from the hospital; could I move back and take care of him in his home?

Providing home care develops a predictable and cadenced routine. Ed’s wife, my father’s sister, had dementia and was confined to “Pine Manor,” a nearby nursing home. I would take Ed to go to see Jessie most days. Going to see Jessie was an integral part of our Sisyphean life together. It was more than a routine; it was an obligatory rite, a necessary commemoration, like giving thanks before a meal or putting flowers on a grave.