Imagicat and Leif

This week I've been doing writing workshops with third through fifth grade classes at an elementary school in Brandon, and using my book, Imagicat, to illustrate both the elements of story and how a kid could write a book. The main characters of the book are an eleven-year-old boy named Jeff and his alter ego, a snippy cat he calls Mortimer.

Jeff's character was modeled on some of the personality traits and actions of my brother Donovan and Leif, so I've been talking a lot about Leif this week and showing a photo of him, along with other photos of people in our family who influenced the characters in the book.

I talk about how Leif, at the age of eleven, didn't really like doing school work, much like Jeff. He didn't mind going to school, he just minded it "following him home." He hated homework. And, like Jeff, he liked to find some way to put his own, original "stamp" on an assignment.

Leif also chose the little kitten that we named Scamp, who became our favorite cat. Scamp was full of fun and we all loved his antics. The kids love hearing about them and how they came to influence the character of Mortimer in the book.

How I love this photo of Leif and Scamp, who provided us with many hours of entertainment and affection. Leif, at eleven, cuddling that little rascal, and wearing his signature black leather Members Only jacket, in the days before he wore glasses, the days before he knew he couldn't achieve his dream of becoming a pilot, the days when he and his friend Robert would come home after school and ask what was happening the the book NOW, and I would read them the latest chapter, the days when they would snicker over it and give me ideas about how to make it better.

Imagicat will always be linked in my mind to Leif, Scamp, and my brother. I'm glad I can share it with over three hundred children this week.

Reconciling the Life of the Boy and the Man

I need to get back to finishing the series of posts on Leif's loves and relationships but it's hard, hard to write about them, hard to be fair about them, hard to give a picture of his life and not hurt others, and in the meantime, I'm trying to deal in my mind with the conflicting pictures of my beautiful, brilliant little boy, who clearly was much more vulnerable than any of us realized, and the tall, strong, brilliant but unhappy man who ultimately took his life. So many of the photos of the last years of his life make me sad, realizing I could see the unhappiness there, realizing there will be no more chances to find the love and happiness he missed, but at the same time, trying to understand that there were moments of happiness among the days of misery.

Coming to terms with Leif's life and death is not easy, not for me, not for his father. I realized tonight that we had him in our home for the best years of his life, the happiest ones, though of course they were not universally happy. That at least makes me glad, that we were able to give him a good home life with loving parents.

I still think nearly every day that I want to just hold him and comfort him, and that will never happen. Even in death I wanted to hold him, to touch him, even though I knew he would not feel it. I would have.

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This photo of Leif was taken in our quarters at Fort Sheridan, Illinois in May 1987 not long after he had picked out "Scamp," the kitten in his baseball mitt. Leif was 12 years old.

Leif's Photos of Scamp

Leif loved cats and he knew that I did, too. He twice got me cats for Mother's Day, once as a teen in junior high and once as a senior in high school.

The cat in these photos is Scamp, our all-time favorite cat, and the one Leif first picked out when we were living at Fort Sheridan, Illinois. He went to a pet store and picked out the liveliest one he could find, the one that was climbing all over the place and virtually meowing, "look at me, look at me." Scamp was a tiny kitten when they brought him home and we all loved watching his antics. I wrote two earlier post about Scamp with photos of Leif and him together, but when I found these photos Leif took, I wanted to post them, too.

One thing Scamp enjoyed immensely was changing sheets on the beds. When he noticed that was happening, he would jump up on the bed and run around under the sheet as the new one was settling down on the bed. It looked so funny, like some kind of giant mole scooting around under the sheet. If I picked up a small part of one side I could make it like a narrow tunnel looking in at him and he would go nuts trying to rush down the small space at me, or pose in various amusing ways with just his face showing down the tube made by the sheet and the bed. It was so much fun that when I put clean sheets on the beds I would often lift the sheet up and flutter it down again and again so that he could jump under it, tunnel and scoot, and play silly games. Sometimes we would take photos.

All but one of these photos were taken in late fall or December 1989 when Leif was nearly 15 years old and Scamp was a grown cat, two-and-a-half years old. The other one is the second one from the top, taken when Scamp was still a kitten shortly after we got him in May 1987.

Scamp was a beautiful cat but he had a funny nose which was part orangey-pink and park black, giving him a kind of odd look as though something was wrong with his nose.

I don't know why Leif never took photos of other cats he had when he was older, Merlin, the second cat he gave me, or Sugar and Spice, the cats he and Nikko had when they were married. Leif always loved to cuddle something, whether it was a stuffed animal he had as a child, or a cat, or his lady love. Cats were particularly interesting to him (along with snakes, which he also had as pets at times, and birds, which he never did) and you could see how much he enjoyed having them in his arms and playing with them. It was another sad thing for him that he became allergic to them and after he contracted asthma, he couldn't have cats as they brought on asthma attacks.

Seeing these photos brought back a lot of happy memories for me. Scamp was special. Leif picked a great cat.

Leif & Scamp - Fort Sheridan, Illinois - May 1986 - Age 11

Today I spent a long time talking with my grandson, Marcus, about many things, but mostly about my books, especially "Imagicat." He's going to do a report on me and my writing for school (third grade) and was "interviewing me" for some information. I had sent him photos of our two cats that were the inspiration for Mortimer in "Imagicat," and one of them was this cat above in Leif's arms, Scamp. Scamp was just a small kitten in this photo. Leif picked him out at the pet shop and made sure that he picked the most active, "crazy" kitty he could find.

Scamp was such a terrific cat, intelligent, funny, careful, affectionate; the perfect cat for Leif. He loved that kitty! I've written about him and Scamp before, I think. Scamp only lived four and a half years, dying young of an enlarged heart. He, too, was too young to die but brought so much companionship and joy while he lived.

I've been trying to decide how to acknowledge the first anniversary of Leif's death and the day we found him. We had planned to go to the cemetery then, but we were in St. Petersburg yesterday for an event and it seemed right to go then, when we were already over there because I don't know if I should go out of town and leave my mother just a week after she gets out of the rehabilitation facility after breaking her back.

It was an absolutely gorgeous day, the kind of day Leif would have loved to ride his motorcycle under BOB (Big Orange Ball . . . the sun). The birds were singing. It should have been a joyous day, and it would have been, if he were still alive.

I cried my heart out, as I always do, missing him, wishing he were still alive, wondering for the thousandth or ten thousandth time why this had to be.

I thought of the Serenity Prayer, and wondered if accepting the things I cannot change actually does bring serenity. It sounds good, but I think it doesn't always do that, or perhaps my definition of acceptance is different than Reinhold Niebuhr's. Maybe what he means is acquiescence, and that I don't think I will ever have. I know which things I can change and which I can't, but in this case, that's no help, either.

We so often see that first part of the prayer written or quoted, but not the second part, about "Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace," and surrendering to God's will. I can't accept that. Hardships cannot be the way to peace. Not hardships like this. They don't bring peace. They bring misery, sadness, endless questions. And how could something like this be "God's will." A god like that would be cruel. What kind of loving father, earthly or heavenly, would doom his children to a terrible death . . . my son or anyone else's child, any of us. I don't blame God.

But I do wonder, and will always wonder (knowing that life is unfair) why Leif couldn't have had just a scrap of the luck so many people take for granted, just some lasting happiness as an adult, just some achievement he could be proud of. Why did he have to suffer? Why did he have to die?

It's nearly a year and I don't miss him any less. It's a year, but it feels like so much less.

Leif & Scamp - 1987 - Age 12

Leif loved cats. When he was younger and we were moving all over the world, we couldn't have one, but when we moved to Fort Sheridan, Illinois (north side of Chicago) he saw his chance. Leif picked out Scamp at a pet store, the liveliest kitten he could find, the one that climbed up the cage to get at him. He picked well. Scamp was a beautiful and intelligent cat, and completely captivating as a kitten.

In the photo with Leif's beloved black leather Members Only jacket, you can see him cradling Scamp like a baby. In the one on the couch, you can see him cuddling that kitten with a look of the purest happiness and delight on his face. He loved that kitten!

Scamp was funny and entertaining and Leif enjoyed playing with him. Somehow he discovered that Scamp was completely crazy about tiny crumpled paper balls. He would bat them all over the floor like a first class soccer player. How he got the idea to show one of these little balls to Scamp and then drop it into one of his big, high-topped athletic shoes I don't know, but that was a hoot! Scamp wanted to get it out, and he dove into the shoe head and front paws first, and was scrambling around in there trying to get the ball. The rest of his body, back legs and tail were flopping around in the air. He did manage to get the ball and started playing soccer again. From then on, it became a favorite game to show Scamp the ball and where Leif (or one of the rest of us) was going to "hide" it and watch Scamp try to get it out.

Scamp also learned to "surf" in my low-heeled pumps. He would place his two front paws in the front of the shoe, and push with his back legs. How I wish we had a picture or a video of that!

Scamp was a very fastidious cat. Our house was crammed with breakable knickknacks and Scamp would leap up and walk everywhere (except on the kitchen counters or the dining room table, where he knew he wasn't allowed), and walk among all the breakables, but he never knocked anything down or broke anything. He was very industrious about his litter box habits, too, working very hard to be sure everything was adequately "covered."

We lived a couple of blocks from Lake Michigan, and Scamp would go for a walk with us like a dog. I remember one winter walk after an ice storm when he insisted on coming along, but his poor paws were being frozen from the ice cold water standing in places and the ice itself, plus jagged ice pieces hurt them. He would whimper and beg to be picked up, but after a few steps in someone's arms, he was begging to get down and walk beside us again.

Scamp was king of the neighborhood and "inspected" it daily, making sure everyone was behaving properly. There was a hunting hound dog that lived on the other end of our row of townhouses. The owner would put him out on a chain fastened to a stake so that the dog could only get around within a circle the radius of the chain. Scamp quickly figured out just how close he could get to the dog without the dog being able to reach him, and he would calmly walk up and sit down just out of reach. The dog would strain and go nuts trying to reach him, but it was as though Scamp were saying, "Ha, ha, you can't get me."

There was a small male kitten that lived somewhere in the neighborhood who took to following Scamp around. We never knew his name, but we called him Sidekick. Scamp tolerated him most of the time, but one day Sidekick got a little too uppity and Scamp sent him rolling with the swipe of one paw. The little guy got right up and trotted after Scamp, meowing, and Scamp apparently decided he could stay.

When Leif's friend Chris Stone's family was moving, they couldn't take their dog to the hotel with them so they asked if Chris and the dog could stay with us. We agreed but had some misgivings about the dog and Scamp getting along. When Chris showed up with the dog, Scamp took one look at the dog, a small terrier, and chased it to the basement and kept it cornered. The dog was completely traumatized. Once we removed Scamp, it took him a long time to come out of the basement. At that point, Scamp apparently decided that we had understood his point and he no longer needed to terrorize the dog. The two of them made a point of completely ignoring each other, wouldn't even look at each other, the rest of the time Chris and the dog were there.

One of Scamp's favorite games was to jump up and play under the sheets when we put clean sheets on our beds. Leif and I had fun taking pictures of him peeking at us under the sheets.

When Scamp was three years old, we moved to Puerto Rico. We had to leave him in a kennel for a month before he could be shipped to us there, and when he arrived, he was pitiful. He clung to us and didn't want to let us out of his sight. Once he adjusted and went outside, we quickly found out that he could no longer by an outdoor cat. The fleas in Puerto Rico were relentless and nothing we did could keep them off poor Scamp. There were other dangers where we lived, too, including packs of wild dogs that could have killed him, and so the proud outdoor cat had to become and indoor cat, and he hated it.

Leif continued to find news ways to amuse both himself and Scamp. By then he was a sophomore in high school and had been shaving for a couple of years already. He had an electric razor and Scamp hated it. Why, we don't know, maybe just the sound. One evening we had neighbors over for dinner, and afterwords we were all sitting in the living room talking and Scamp was keeping us company. He loved to chase a beam of light and we had a good time shining a flashlight beam around the room for him to chase. It was quite entertaining, but nothing compared to what was to come.

For some reason, Leif decided to bring out his electric razor. He turned it on, and Scamp immediately made his displeasure known. Leif turned it off and put it down in the middle of the carpet. Scamp went into hunting mode. You could nearly see him thinking. "Aha! It's sitting there still and quiet on the rug. I can get it now!"

He flattened himself low to the floor and prowled around it in a circle, making sure it wasn't going to attack, and then HE attacked, claws extended. He jumped on that shaver like he was killing a rat, attacked it with his claws, and beat the thing to death. He was totally intent on what he was doing, and completely serious. We were laughing so hard we had tears running down our faces.

When Scamp was sure he had killed that shaver, he sat down looking quite smug and proud of himself. Then Leif turned it on again! You could just see Scamp thinking, "Dang, I thought I killed that thing!" He was so upset. Leif turned it off and left it on the rug again, and Scamp again went on a killing spree. By this time, we had been laughing so much our sides and stomachs hurt. But poor Scamp was only to discover that the razor wasn't dead. Leif finally had to put it away.

Unfortunately, we have no photos or video of this escapade. It's too bad. Leif might have been able to win a "Funniest Home Video" show with it.

Sadly, Scamp only lived to be four and a half years old. He developed an enlarged heart and because of a blood clot, had paralyzed back legs. Four veterinarians said that he could regain the use of them and live a fairly normal life if we could get medication into him, but he struggled and fought it so hard that three grown men couldn't get it into him, and it was only available in pill form. There's no way to know what is in an animal's mind, but Leif and I believed that Scamp made up his mind to die, not knowing he could regain the use of this legs, and not wanting to live like that.

He was an affectionate and intelligent companion. We loved him for four and a half years, and he was mightily missed when he died.

When we moved from Puerto Rico to Kansas, Leif got me another kitten that he picked out and gave me for Mother's Day. That was Merlin, another interesting character, but not the wit that Scamp was.

When Leif got married, he and Nikko had two or three cats. I remember Sugar and Spice.

Sadly, though, when Leif developed asthma in the army, he also developed an allergy to cat dander which made his asthma worse, and he couldn't have cats any longer. I know he missed their antics, their cuddliness, and their affection.