Alan Pesky - More to Life than More: A Memoir of Misunderstanding, Loss, and Learning

Copyright 2021 by Alan Pesky and Claudia Aulum

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

Cover design by Heidi Worcester

Cover image by Wendy Pesky

ISBN: 978-1-5107-6635-8

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-6659-4

Printed in the United States of America

Wendy and I have attended the Sun Valley Writers Conference since its inception. In 2019, TypewriterRodeo poets were theregive them a word or phrase, and theyd bang out poems on vintage typewriters. With the words more to life than more, Sean produced this on a typewriter possibly as old as I was.

For my wife, Wendy, and our three children, Heidi, Lee, and Greg

I didnt expect to write a memoir in my eighties. And because of Lee, it became a different book from the one I set out to write. The story that emerged over the three years of writing and reflection has led me to a richer understanding of myself and my relationships with those I have loved. Particularly with Lee, who challenged me and who left us when he was so vibrant. I wonder what he would think, how he would feel, if he could read this book.

Contents

Chapter 1

Somethings Wrong

W e stood on the tarmac of the Boise airport, waiting in the dark. It was nearly midnight, and the last commercial flight had landed an hour ago. The airport was deserted. I had my arm around Wendy, and I could feel her shiver in spite of the warm summer night air and the heat still radiating from the surface of the airfield. The runway seemed to stretch out to the darkened landscape and the night sky beyond. It was one of those Idaho nights that is blacker than black and as wide as all the world.

Like me, Wendy was scouring the horizon for the incoming plane that would take us to New York. Every few minutes, she turned to look back at our son Lee lying on a gurney a few feet away, with his girlfriend, Criss, watching over him, a medical attendant standing nearby. We had no radio contact with the jet ambulance, now somewhere in that sea of black, en route from Reno, Nevada. All we knew was that it should be arriving around midnight and that time was critical.

T WO DAYS EARLIER , August 29, 1995, had started as a perfect day in Ketchum, the neighboring town of Sun Valley. Nothing unusualjust another day in paradise, as the locals like to say. We are used to impossibly beautiful days in the high desert mountains of Idaho, where the summers are warm and dry, never scorching. We fall asleep under puffy blankets, wake up to crisp mornings, recreate under cloudless skies, and watch the sun setting over the mountains at around 10 p.m. We are spoiled, perched in our pristine, pollution- and traffic-free bubble 6,000 feet above sea level.

That morning, I was as content as Id ever beenand it was about more than just the beautiful day or the rush of the Big Wood River below my home office window. As a family, we had been blessed with good fortune, and the year 1995 started out as good as any wed experienced. Earlier in the year, Wendy and I, in our 35th year of marriage, had cycled 600 miles together from Hanoi to Saigonan extraordinary journey, even when counted among the many adventures we had already shared. Our daughter, Heidi, had just announced that she was expecting her first childour first grandchild. Greg, our youngest, had been accepted at his choice of graduate business schools (my alma mater) and would be starting there in the fall.

And Lee, our middle child, had never seemed happier. His path had always been the rockiest of our three kids. But in the past couple of years, Lee seemed to be finding a good place in life, too. Now at the age of thirty, he was in love with a lovely young woman, and he had started a business in Ketchum that was thrivingThe Buckin Bagel, the first of a chain of stores that had recently expanded to Boise.

Sure, we had our everyday gripes and aggravations. For me, its usually the small stuff that puts me over the edgea fuse that repeatedly blows out in the house, a dripping faucet that I have no idea how to fix, or having to tear the house apart to find my lost keys, again. Im known to be level-headed in a crisis, but leaving a good book behind on the airplane with the last chapter unread can ruin my day.

Just a few weeks earlier, Wendy repeated something we often said to each other: Life has been good to us.

T HAT TUESDAY AFTERNOON , the 29th, I was on the phone in my office with an old friend who had been the director of a human rights organization I had chaired in the 70s when Wendy interrupted and motioned to me. Shes not one to come bursting into a room, and looking at her face, I knew something was not right. She wasted no time. Somethings wrong with Lee. I need you right away, she said. Hes upstairs lying down. He had a car accident. Hes fine, I think, but he just doesnt seem right.

Driving home from the neighboring town of Hailey, Wendy had noticed the flashing lights of a police car attending to a minor accident on the other side of the road. Then she saw that one of the cars was Lees. She turned around and pulled over to see what was going on. The policeman told her Lee had tailgated and run into the car ahead of him; fortunately, he had been driving slowly enough that neither he nor the other driver appeared to be injured, other than a few scratches and bruises. The policeman confirmed that everyone was all right, but he thought Lee was acting a bit strangely.

It might just be the cut on his head. Better keep an eye on him, he cautioned, in case he has a concussion or something.

Lee insisted he was fine and told Wendy he wanted to take his car straight to the body shop a few miles down the road. She agreed to follow him in her car and then drop him off at his condo. On the way to the body shop, however, Lees car kept drifting outside his lane. Alarmed, Wendy honked her horn a couple of times to get his attention. At the body shop, Lee remembered that all of his insurance information was at his apartment, but by the time he and Wendy got back to his place to look for the papers, Lee couldnt remember why they were there.

Come on, Lee, Wendy said, trying to remain calm. Im taking you to our house now to see Dad. She gently steered him back to the car.