Oregon Health Sciences University (OHSU) offers several valuable alternative-health programs for the public. Following my diagnosis of metastatic melanoma, I joined a Men with Cancer Writers’ Group, which meets weekly on Friday afternoons. The men’s group, facilitated by Ryan Voelker, is one of several groups for writers developed by Dr. SuEllen Pommier.
OHSU writers’ groups are based on the Amherst Writers Method. At each meeting we write from two to four stories in response to a prompt offered by the group facilitator. Following each writing exercise, we have an optional opportunity to read our writing and receive comments regarding what group members appreciated about our story and writing.
This group helps me explore dormant and present thoughts and feelings— a helpful exercise that will contribute to my healing. I find the experience feels encouraging and safe.
My brother Glen Crouch wrote this obituary for our Mom, who died this year.
Grace Louise Brandner Crouch
GRACE LOUISE CROUCH 95, of Oakland, Oregon passed away April 26, 2014 at her home. She was born in Fountain, Colorado in 1919. Grace was the third of four children, all of whom are now deceased. She graduated from Kansas State University. Being a native Kansan, she loved basketball and played on the Wichita County High School team.
Grace enlisted in the United States Army during WW II and served as a dietician on Saipan and at Fitzsimmons Army Hospital in Denver, Colorado and at a hospital in Buffalo, New York. When the war ended she returned home and married Harold Crouch. Together they came to Oregon and started married life on a farm along Calapooia Creek.
They were members of the Community Presbyterian Church in Oakland for 67 years. Grace was actively involved in the county home extension group and as a 4-H leader. Other involvements include Community Concert Association, Calapooia Ladies Club and Sutherlin Food Pantry. Some of the local people that hauled hay and sheared sheep at the farm are sure to remember her lunches during hay and shearing seasons. Grace raised a huge garden and canned literally hundreds of quarts of vegetables and fruits annually. She was a skilled seamstress, knitter, crotchetier, and an amateur painter. The neighbor children, her children and grandchildren all loved her dearly.
Survivors include her children; Martin Crouch (Eddy), Kathleen Pedersen (Keith), Glen Crouch (Sharnie) and Annette Harper (Randy); 12 grandchildren and 12 great grandchildren. Grace was preceded in death by her husband Harold L. Crouch and her sister Emma Marie Gray here in Douglas County. The family wishes to thank her companions and caregivers who took such good care of her and Harold. They enriched her life in so many ways. Memorial services will be held Sunday, May 18, 2014 at 2:00 pm at Oakland Community Presbyterian Church.
I wrote this obituary for Dad, who died five years ago. It is longer and more personal than typical. The obituary received both positive and negative feedback. I was grateful for this as it seemed to make Dad’s life more memorable.
Harold Laverne Crouch
Harold was a prominent Douglas County rancher. He had been living with the progressive symptoms of Alzheimer’s Disease for several years. He died July 2, 2009 at age 93, at the Veterans Administration in Roseburg, Oregon.
Harold was born August 30, 1915, the fifth child of Orra Odell Crouch and Blanche Graham Crouch of Wichita County, Kansas. Orra and Blanche were children of homesteaders who migrated from Ohio and Wisconsin to the Great Plains of Western Kansas.
The Crouch family survived the great depression and the severe drought of the dust bowl years without losing their farm. But this time of travail caused missed opportunities. When Harold graduated from the eighth grade at the one-room Lone Star School, his formal education ended and he remained on home on farm, where he helped with farming, animals and machinery.
Following the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Harold enlisted in the Army and was sent to boot camp at Fort Lewis. On weekend leave, Harold took an opportunity to drive South to see agriculture in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. He was impressed with the beauty of Oregon and the farms that he saw.
Harold met Grace Brandner on his visits to the Post Office in Leoti, prior to his enlistment. During his tour of duty, Grace enlisted in the Women’s Army Corps. They corresponded during their years in the service, and Harold saved letters from this time. Grace and Harold were married at on August 21, 1946 at Manitou Springs, Colorado. Dreaming of a better future for their family, Grace advocated for moving away from the harsh environment on the Great Plains.
Shortly, after Grace’s discharge from the Army they traveled to Oregon in search of farmland. They purchased a 350 acre farm along Calapooya Creek between Umpqua and Sutherlin. The farm came with a small house, but was nothing to write home about. When Grace’s mother, Pearl Brandner, came to visit in the winter of 1946-47, she exclaimed, “Well Harold, I see you bought a shack in a mudhole.” With profits from the Kansas wheat harvest in the spring of 1947, Harold worked to rebuild his neglected farm. He began construction of a three-bedroom ranch-style house, which became their home in 1951. Wisely, he constructed the house atop a broad mound of fill, mined from Calapooya creek. Thus the house stood about 3 feet above the plain. Waters from many floods of the 1950s often surrounded the house, but never invaded it.
Farming in Douglas County is different from Great Plains farming. Harold quickly saw that much of his farming knowledge would not work here, and he sought advice from experienced neighbors and the County Agent at the Oregon State University Extension Service. He believed in adopting innovative modern practices whenever practical.
Harold preferred crops that could be handled with machinery, but local folk wisdom is that Douglas County is livestock country. To achieve a more stable source of income, Harold raised sheep for more than 10 years. Many winter nights were spent scouting for new born lambs. Many spring days were spent doctoring the flock. Harold kept meticulous records and attempted to improve the health of his flock through selective breeding. After practicing sheep husbandry for several years, he concluded that sheep are not well adapted to profitable ranching in Douglas County. He converted his operation to cattle, which are stronger and less prone to disease than sheep.
Despite the demands of farm, home and family, Harold provided time to give back to the Community. He and Grace attended most of the events at the Calapooya Club House, including the Farm Bureau, Calapooya 4H, birthdays, showers, potlucks and socials. Harold and Grace attended the Community Presbyterian church in Oakland. He provided extra effort in the 50’s, working with hammer in hand to help construct a new church. He also led Sunday School classes and advocated that the church do more to help the needy.
Harold shared knowhow, tools and farm equipment with neighboring farmers. Sheep ranchers having trouble with their operations sometimes visited, seeking help. He showed them how to pencil out a strategy for land and stock, using figures to be more realistic about costs for improving pastures, providing feeds, and buying stock. This helped them aim for ways to profit, always depending on the vicissitudes of the livestock market.
Harold’s talent for farm management was recognized by the community and he was recruited to the board of the Production Credit Association. He disdained the long meetings, but enjoyed the opportunity to review farming operations of loan applicants.
People may dispute what farm crops will grow in Douglas County. But nobody disputes that Douglas Fir grows well over most of the County. Experience with the timber on the adjacent Moore place proved to Harold that timber could provide an income to supplement other crops. His interested in forestry gradually grew.
With able help of Emmit Churchill, Harold added the Elkhead and Drain Hill tree farms in the 1970s and 80s. Many winter days were spent planting seedlings. Unlike most men his age, Harold preferred to work with the planting crew, carrying trees on his back, and a planting hoe in his arms. Because of his reforestation efforts, Harold was recognized as Douglas County Tree Farmer of the year in 1982.
At age 65 Harold retired and sold the family farm. Rather than adopt a life of leisure, he purchased a tired, brush-covered ranch from the Baimbridge family and set about to improve it. On this property, Harold brushed, worked and fertilized the soil to make it productive. He experimented with productive combinations of grasses and achieved remarkable grazing conditions. He added a paddock system of electric fences to easily relocate Cattle and give the grass a rest between grazings. With these achievements in place his son-in-law Randy Harper said, “Nobody can believe that Harold can produce so many grass-fattened feeder cattle on such a small property.”
Although Harold usually registered as Republican, he often thought more like a Democrat. This was most noticeable in his support for a government role of redistributing wealth from haves to have-nots. When Bill and Hillary Clinton assumed their first term, Hillary was tasked with leading badly needed health-care reform. Unfortunately her efforts were opposed by powerful corporate interests and failed to generate a groundswell of support in the Congress. Harold penned a letter to her, expressing his support for her efforts and his empathy for the failure that she sustained. Hillary replied in writing: “Thank you for your thoughtful letter. Your words of encouragement and support mean a great deal to me.”
Well into his 80’s, motorists passing the farm via Stearns Lane could see Harold harvesting hay, doctoring cattle at the squeeze chute, or herding animals with his three-legged dog and ATV.
The family is grateful to the caregivers who provided in-home assistance for a year and a half, and the staff at the VA Protective Care Unit in Roseburg, who assisted him in the last two months, for their remarkable care and attention to Harold’s needs.
Harold is survived by his wife, Grace Brandner Crouch, of Oakland, Oregon, their four children: Martin David Crouch of Portland, Kathleen Marie Knee of Oakland, Glen Roland Crouch of Salem, Annette Louise Harper of Oak Hill Road, 12 grandchildren, and 7 great grandchildren.
Please join the family at a Memorial Service on Sunday, July 12 at 3pm, at the Community Presbyterian Church, on SE 8th Street, in Oakland, Oregon. A light dinner will be served at the church, following the service.
Contributions may be sent to the Community Presbyterian Church or Oakland, Oregon or to the Oregon Chapter of the Alzheimer’s Association, http://www.alz.org/oregon/in_my_community_donate.asp.
Our writer’s group prompt was, “Tomorrow is the first day of summer break. Write about your expectations for the summer.” This is what I wrote.
Here’s the plan for Summer 2014: First, I’ll keep the appointment with my oncologist on June 23rd and he will confirm that my cancer continues to regress. He will again say, “You are responding to the IL-2 treatment and your reward is another round of treatment.” I think this is Dr. Curti’s favorite line, and I imagine feeling proud to be part of a happy moment for him.
My last IL-2 treatment will consume the month of July — with all of its discomforting side effects, two weeks in bed, and other indignities. Dedicating the month of July is better than OK; it’s a reasonable exchange for a stay of the death sentence conveyed by metastatic melanoma.
August will be a month of working to regain strength in preparation for the follow-up CT scan of early September. Then, at summer’s end, I’ll receive my diploma, passport, certificate of merit, my NED finding!
Time for a dramatic celebration followed by a romantic western states road trip — the kind that road trip media presents. High Sierras, National Parks, Canyon-lands, Tetons, Yellowstone … here we come!
Mother and Empathy was my personal contribution to the Grace Louise Brandner Crouch memorial service on Sunday, May 18, 2014.
I remember an early conversation with Mother. I am standing on the stool and washing my hands in the utility room sink. It’s too tall for me because I am only four.
Mother with tears in her eyes – “You told Wilsie that it was time for her to go home and you wanted her to leave. Did you see that she was angry and that she left after you said that? I felt very sad when you told her to go home. I don’t want you to tell her to go home again.”
Me in 4-year old language – “I didn’t mean to make her mad. I just wanted her to leave so you could play with me.”
Mother – “Even when you don’t mean to make someone mad, it’s not OK to tell them to go home. Wilsie is my friend and I want her to come and have coffee with me because I want to have time with my friends.”
I remembered this conversation mainly because Mother was so distressed about Wilsie’s reaction to my request. I had no idea that she was teaching me basic social skills and empathy.
I remember another empathy lesson about creatures. I had just entered the kitchen from outdoors, probably with a guilty look on my face.
Mother – “Have you been chucking apples at my chickens?”
Me – “Um, yes but I was throwing rotten apples and I wasn’t able to hit the chickens from across the yard.”
Mother – “I don’t want you to pester my chickens. It’s not right to hurt creatures just to entertain yourself. If you want to throw rotten apples, throw them at a tree trunk, or something that you can’t hurt.”
I thought that Mother might have a point there. I got that it was selfish to harass the birds for the fun of it. It was the earnest feeling in her message that made it memorable for me. I couldn’t believe that she really cared that much about the chickens.
A few years later, I wanted to impress my neighbors Susan and Sandy. While our parents were square dancing I decided to entertain them by taking apart and putting together mother’s table radio. I did well on the taking apart, but failed miserably on repair. The next day Mother and I had a conversation.
Mother – “Did you do something to my radio? It no longer plays.”
Me – “I thought you didn’t want that radio because I don’t hear you play it — so I was showing Susan and Sandy how to take it apart and put it back together.”
Mother – “That radio was my special radio. It’s the only radio that plays my favorite station in Roseburg. I play it when you are gone to school to keep myself company. It’s not OK to just take someone else’s things and take them apart — even if you think they don’t want them anymore. When I saw that my radio was broken I was so upset that I cried. I want you to promise me that you won’t use things that belong to others without their permission.”
I felt very very guilty about ruining her radio. What was I thinking? I don’t know how to assemble a radio. Anything beyond plugging a vacuum tube into the socket is beyond me.
Mother’s way of interacting helped me to respect the feelings and property of others much more efficiently than other parenting tactics such as lecturing, shaming and punishing.
Mother provided empathy training about the big-picture in human events as well. Throughout our primary school years, Mother routinely took time to read to us at bed time. The most memorable book she read was “Brave Men” by World War II correspondent Ernie Pyle. Pyle was a well known author who covered the War in Europe from the perspective of the ordinary soldier, sailor, and marine.
Pyle told stories from the point of view of men who did the work and the suffering of combat. Through this reading, I began to grasp the terrible cost of war. I don’t know if Mother intended to teach pacifism, but her readings about the experience of war helped me understand the rigors of wartime and left an abiding conviction that war creates far more problems than it solves.
My friend Susan suggested that, in her experience, cancer is like a mistress. Her mistress metaphor resonated as a splendid writing prompt. This what I wrote:
We are having dinner tonight at a favorite restaurant, Seasons and Regions. I’m ordering the Willipa Bay Oysters with extra vegetables. I say, “Please no bread and hold the potatoes and rice.”
I’m following a mediterranean diet, attempting to avoid nightshades and refined grains. This because the mediterranean diet is believed by my naturopath to be the best all around cancer-discouraging diet. My oncologist says that diet won’t affect the course of your metastatic melanoma; the main thing is to eat a sufficient amount of food to avoid excessive weight change. I prefer to do everything reasonable to discourage the cancer.
Eddy says, “Are you sure you want the oysters? They are breaded in a flour mixture and fried in a skillet. It would be better to order a grilled seafood like the Alaskan salmon.”
I know my wife is concerned about my health and wants to help me exercise control over food choices as way to help me fight cancer. I’m thinking that the idea that foregoing one of my favorite seafood dishes on this special night out is not working for me. I’ve already let go of my beloved bread and butter.
I say, “Could we just put the fight against cancer on hold for tonight? I would love to just have a special dinner evening with you the way we did before we found out that I have cancer.”
She says, “Yes, I would like that too. It’s OK if you want to have the oysters. We will be skipping dessert because you aren’t eating refined sugar anymore. I want you to have an entree that you will really enjoy.”
I’m thinking that her dessert comment doesn’t quite comply with my foregoing request, but I decide to let that pass.
I’m noticing an urge to cough and I try to stifle it. I think, “Damn this dry cough; I should have remembered to take a swig of codeine before we left home.” I fail to stifle the cough and quietly cough into my cloth napkin. She looks at me with a hint of anxiety, and says, “Take some sips of water, it will help with that cough.”
The presence of cancer in my chest has altered our relationship. It’s an ever-present elephant in the room that alters our interactions and is never far from our thinking. This is a bit like being a couple who both know about his mistress. Even though his mistress is not in the room, she is always in the minds of both.
In my case, the mistress brings an unusual, cruel twist. She plans to murder me.
