Blessed by Children. Broke in School.

Blessed by my Children

I often say that my children turned out much better than I deserved. If time permits, I'll have more to say about the moral failures and weaknesses that justify such a statement...but for now, you can take my word for it.

Kristin, born in 1967, was the product of my union with her mother Sallyan Julian.

Brian Gregor (b. 1975) and Keith Darwin (b. 1978) were born to Mary Anne (Molly) Boyle. The biggest failure in my life was the inability to nurture all that was and could have been good in that marriage. In addition to my own moral failings, a part of the problem was the life of a solo family physician which can be all consuming. At any time, the illness of a patient can trump one's plans for dinner or a movie or time with family. Seldom was it possible to see a movie through its entirety without a pager interruption. Along with that life-style came the belief that "of course I am doing the right thing by leaving my child's birthday party to see a patient." The patient's illness and the need to attend to it becomes the self-serving feature of life.

I'll start off with Kris today and then back track to my childhood in a future post.

Kristin

Her conception was an accident. Her mother, Sally, and I were both in school...my first year of medical school and Sally's 3rd of 4 years of nursing school. Despite loans and part-time jobs, on May 2, 1966 we had absolutely no money...not enough to park the car to attend classes. Our only resource was a Phillips 66 gas card.

I dropped Sally off  for her class and drove my DeSoto from Baltimore to Beltsville, a suburb of Washington, D.C. where my parents lived. I needed to find work. My only skill was computer programming that I had picked up in the few months between finishing undergraduate school and starting medical school.

The house was empty and I parked myself in my mother's kitchen with the Yellow Pages and began cold calling every company advertising itself as producers of computer software. I lied and stated that I had decided to leave medical school and was anxious to start a new career.

There weren't many listings and I cycled through them as necessary, making return calls, etc. Then I hit pay dirt at a company called ANDROID (and you thought that Google made up that name). The owner  suggested that I meet him at Sears in the White Oaks Mall in Silver Spring in the early afternoon. "I'll have a yellow pencil in my suit jacket pocket."

And so I met Jimmie Osborn who offered me a job with the incredible salary of $1000 a month, well above the entry level pay for computer programmers at the time. The work started immediately, which meant that I left the Sears parking lot and followed Jimmie Osborn to the National Bureau of Standards on Connecticut Avenue in Northwest. ANDROID had a contract for the development of a "report generator" (something we now call a data base) for the Economic Development Administration one of the agencies in Johnson's War on Poverty. There were bales of money flowing out of the Federal government for poverty programs all over the United States. The Johnson administration needed to keep track of where that money went and how it was being spent by county and congressional district. You have to keep track of who gets the Pork.

So I stopped going to school and went to work everyday--long days--10 hour days--commuting back and forth to Washington D.C. from Pimlico in Baltimore. The subjects being taught in medical school that semester were Physiology and Biochemistry, my strongest suits. A friend who was experiencing difficulty in these courses went to school every day and met me at my home at about 8:30 PM each evening. For the next few hours we went over the notes. Then it was to bed and up the next morning at about 4:30.

My 1956 Desoto was a beast that I had purchased for $200 in 1965. It burned oil and the oil pressure tended to drop to zero at idle speeds, but it was a great car and cruised right along. One day a policeman in Pimlico took exception to something about me. It could be that I wheeled into a parking spot too fast. At any rate, he gave me the third degree and went over my poor old car with a fine tooth comb. Unfortunately for me, the power window of the driver's side did not work. The policeman gave me a citation to have it repaired by a certain date or to show up in court. I tried for two weeks to find a part, a door, anything that would allow me to save my car...to no avail. I had to buy another car.

I found a used Austin sedan in D.C. and purchased it. I loved it and drove it for the next two months. In August, Sally and I decided to take a few days vacation in Ocean City Maryland. At that time in my life, I considered this to be a long trip. I took the Austin to a mechanic and asked for an oil change for both the engine and the rear axle. They replaced the engine oil but neglected the rear axle. About 200 miles later the rear end froze up leaving us stranded in Ocean City for an additional few days...days for which we had not planned or budgeted...days for which we had no supply of oral contraceptives...days in which we drank freely...nights in which we ignored the consequences of unprotected sex.

And so in May 1967, this incredible bundle of vitality dropped from her mother's womb and into our lives. Unfortunately the marriage was shaky, both because of our own personalities and limitations and because of all of the pressures around us, not only school and finances, but from explosions within our families of origin as well.

Sally and I separated around Thanksgiving 1968, tried a reconciliation the following month and were permanently parted by New Years 1969. I don't really know which of us was most eager to jump ship. It was certainly true that neither of us were getting major needs met.

Sally and I had traveled about with a group of about a dozen people during college days. After separating, I began seeing Molly, one of the members of that group. I had never dated her in college but had always liked being around her. When I was sure that my marriage was finished, I began seeing Molly seriously.

My relationship with Sally never healed or really resolved. Not even the death of our beautiful daughter was enough to really mend our fences. Kristin benefited greatly from Sally's subsequent marriage to an airline pilot. He was great guy and good friend to Kristin and his occupation provided my daughter with the opportunity to travel the world, which she did.

Despite the divorce, I saw quite a bit of Kristin for the next five years. In 1970, I took a job at an emergency room in Cambridge Maryland. Molly and I lived on an estate on the Miles River. The owner was gone for several months and we rented a converted chapel on the estate. We had access to the boat docks and the main house as well. Kris was 3 when she came to spend a couple of weeks.

Kris at 3

You might think that she is partially undressed in this picture. However, she is actually partially dressed. When she was with us in 1970, she didn't want to wear clothes. We told her that she had to wear shoes to protect her feet, but otherwise, she could go naked. She loved it. We particularly liked chicken-neck crabbing together. She would take the line and slowly reel in the crab. As it approached the surface, I would net it. We spent hours at this. She also liked it when I held both of her hands and she could lean backwards far off of the pier, stick her butt out, and urinate directly into the water.

There was a teen-age boy, David, who mowed the lawn and occasionally drove around on a motorbike. Kristin called him the "Motor Man." The only time that Kristin dressed was when the Motor Man was around...and not just any pair of shorts or shirt...it had to be a real dress, hair brushed, etc. Even at three Kristin was aware that women are often most seductive with the skillful use of clothing.

Kris was very close to Molly and was very upset when Molly and I separated in 1983. She barely talked to me for a year. From 1983 until 1993 you might say that I experienced a succession of failed relationships. Kris was living with her mother or was away at college during those years. She cheerfully put up with her father's shortcomings. My boys had to live with me every day.

This picture from 1993 captures in less than a thousand words, my children's reactions to my wedding of June 12, 1993... a union that lasted about 4 years.

Keith is to the left, Brian to the right. Guess who is all smiling.

Kris was a joy. I was the absent Dad and saw her many weekends and for extended times in the summer. I never made her go to bed at any particular time. The only rule was that there were no shenanigans or horseplay after 9 PM. She could sit with the adults as long as she wanted. Generally she would fall asleep and I'd carry her to bed.

She loved our little house in Harper's Ferry WV. There was a swimming pond with a little beach that was delightful during the summers. She also had a close friend there, Bobby.

Kris and Bobby in Harpers Ferry 1975.

Here is a picture of Kris with the incredibly beautiful Boyle sisters from 1975 or 6. Molly is to the right and Kris is next to her.

She was also happy to have brothers and celebrated as my boys  came along.

This montage is from Montana in 1979. Keith is wearing the striped shirt, Brian the solid red.

Kris and I in Pocomoke City about 1991. You can see that Kris's mother, Sally,  had to be responsible for the good looks.

It is still painful writing about Kris. She developed a dedifferentiated Chondrosarcoma in 2003, entered the hospital to begin therapy on about December 10, 2003 and died on February 17, 2004. It was a terrible struggle...she was willing to do anything in a fight for life. When I saw her xray after the first surgery, it was like I had been hit in the chest with a sledge hammer. The entire left pelvis was gone as was the top of the femur. They attempted to spare the leg...I'm still not sure why since it caused so many complications like deep vein thromboses and pulmonary emboli.

Kris was placed on a ventilator about 4 weeks before her death and was never able to speak thereafter. Even though there was no evidence for any prior successful chemotherapy for her condition, she was willing to try anything. When I first saw her on the ventilator, she wrote me this note.

"My manly man! I'd really like you to try to find me some CDs of nature sounds...ocean surf, breezes and streams (no fucking whales!") That was Kris...brave and defiant as possible to the end.

Here is the obituary written by the staff at the newspaper where Kris worked while she was getting her Master's degree at Maryland.


Appreciation
Kristin Julian Sohr
May 16, 1967 - February 17, 2004
by Alex Knoll
Goodnight sweet princess and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
–adapted from William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Life is beautiful like a butterfly, but just as fragile and fleeting. But from the most fragile things come the greatest strengths, as the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings in China is said to stir a hurricane in America.

What powers, then, can be set free in the world from the wings of Kristin Sohr, who flew through life so swiftly, and with such ardor that it’s tempting to think she knew her time was short?

From a contagious delight of her smile to the earth-moving force of her energy, we felt the powers of this natural, dark-haired beauty as she rippled through our lives, adding us to her ever-widening circle.

A native of Chesapeake Country, Kristin kept close to the friends of her youth. At University of Maryland, Baltimore County, she widened her community. Then, 11 years ago, she alighted a while at fledgling New Bay Times.

The three founders of this free weekly had plenty of editorial drive and great hopes, but not a single head for business. Kristin, who had just begun work on her MBA at University of Maryland, brought business sense and savvy to our small advertising department, giving this newspaper the kiss of life.

For the better part of two years — while shuttling back and forth to College Park — Kristin built the paper’s advertising strength and its reputation within the business community. To our shoebox of an office where six or eight people and a big dog struggled to make a new weekly paper, she added vitalizing energy, terrifying realism and a second big dog, her golden retriever Oscar.

We groaned when she told us we’d have to survive five years before advertisers would trust us. We argued when she insisted good journalism wouldn’t buy us longevity. But she brought us into line, and we endured.

Then Kristin earned her MBA and needed to spread her wings, to see where her talents would take her. That summer she left New Bay Times to work in Baltimore for Harte Hanks, a national marketing company. With her skills and charm, Kristin quickly worked her way up, until she was recruited by Saatchi & Saatchi, a giant advertising agency based in Los Angeles. With only her skills, her power and her dog Oscar, she moved to California and prospered, just as she’d said she would.

“Kristin had this huge circle of friends here,” a longtime friend Scott Ramsey recently said. “Then she moved to California, and it’s like she built another big circle with the same sort of people.” During those years in California, her love of life, her zest, her friendship touched more people.

In California, sun- and water-loving Kristin lived in a cottage just a few blocks from the ocean in Hermosa Beach. On a visit back to Chesapeake Country last year, she laughed that she’d made more money than she knew what to do with. But she’d also tasted grief. Her stepfather, Bob Koch, of Galesville, died in a small plane crash last January. Then cancer took her Oscar.

Last fall Kristin moved to Park City, Utah, where she bought a home, meeting and falling in love with the man who would become her fiancé.

Shortly after, a long-nagging back pain sent Kristin to the doctor. The pain was diagnosed as a cancer. It would prove to be a cancer that spread as fast as Kristin lived.

In mid-December she flew home and was admitted to Washington Hospital Center in D.C. Despite aggressive surgery, chemotherapy, the best medical care and the love of countless friends and family, Kristin died Tuesday, February 17.

Even as she lay dying, her joy still bubbled forth to greet others. “If one of her doctors she hadn’t seen for a few days walked in, she’d just beam up and smile,” said her fiancé Jeff Smith.

At her bedside, Smith, held her hand and said, “It took me 35 years to find the perfect woman.”

Kristin leaves behind her mother, Sally Julian Koch; her father, Eric Sohr; two sisters, Sherry Whitaker and Diane Nafziger; two brothers, Brian and Keith Sohr; and her grandmother, Lois Mitchell Levinson — as well as far too many friends for this paper’s pages.

Additionally, she leaves a charge for us all: To fly as splendidly as she on our own fragile wings, measuring our flight not by its length but by the ripples we set in motion.

In her final days, a respirator tube kept Kristin from talking, so she wrote. One of her last notes read: “I am ready to take and embrace the path that is destined to me to see the divine creation in us all.”


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It is hard to stop crying when I think about this loss, the sense of unfairness for her life cut short. My mother was dying at the same time as Kristin and preceded her in death by 8 days. They were very close. My mother pointed out to me that although the loss of Kristin was a terrible blow, my sons had brought two wonderful women into our family--that I was losing one daughter but gaining two.

As Kris and Mom became more ill, they stopped asking about one another--each overwhelmed by their own struggle.

Here is my favorite picture of that beautiful, vibrant human being.

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Last night Jasmine and I had dinner with friends Luis and Desiree Barragan and their new arrival, 3 month old Alec Marko. We enjoyed wonderful chicken Parmigiana and shared several laughs. I think it is the last time that I will go visiting. My airways are incredibly sensitive and it is a struggle to not cough frequently.

This morning I am trying to roast some coffee...it is generally a little smokey, so I have the garage open and there is an onshore breeze. We have a local coffee roaster, Joseph Gerardis of JOEBELLA coffee. He is kind enough to sell me quantities of green coffee that he has purchased for his own use. Joseph has an excellent coffee palate...I've never gotten bad stuff. I made the mistake of going to Sweet Maria's in Oakland in July while visiting a friend. It is an amazing operation and the people were exceptionally warm...but the coffee I purchased was only mediocre. I bought too large a quantity of their three Ethiopian coffees and have been living with the consequences lo these many months.

Yesterday, Jasmine drove me to the JOEBELLA roaster in Atascadero and Joe sold me 20 lbs of Aleta Wondo, coffee from an Ethiopian cooperative. I roasted some about an hour ago.

This is my roaster setup in the garage. The roaster appears to be a converted toaster oven. It is by Behmoor and works well. In this picture it is sitting on a camp stove which is just being used as a base for the roaster. I'm sipping the product now...it' good...will taste even better after 24 hours of outgassing.

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I told you about my good fortune and I have some visual proof of some of it.

I am married to a woman from a higher plane of existence. I'm looking forward to providing more details in the near future. This is a person who wakes up with a smile every morning. The only exception I've noted was the first two days after her major back surgery about 2 years ago.

Yesterday,  I decided to investigate this smiling business in more detail and I obtained a picture within seconds of her awakening.

Here it is!

I want you to notice that the smile has begun even before she gets her eyes open.

Will now turn my attention to the circus part of the bread and circus...the NFL.