Our Time In The Wilderness

The world as we knew it began to change in June 2009.  It became absolutely clear that I could no longer stay with the company I had helped found in 1991.   By February of 2010, I was a consultant, flying to Denver every Monday morning and home on Thursday evening to help install a software system I had helped build as part of a company I had helped build.  In March, we put our Atlanta house on the market, believing that we had an opportunity to move back to my homeplace in Kentucky.

Time went on, and that summer brought us the greatest tragedy of our lives, the loss of niece Liza on July 6, 2010.  The Great Pha spent his 72nd birthday in a receiving line at her memorial service.  At that point, TGP also had the beginnings of the recurrence of his prostate cancer.

It’s hard to even reconstruct the timeline subsequent to that, which is partly why I am writing this.  It helps to record it clearly (or at least semi-clearly).

Time moved on and reality didn’t get much easier.  Our house had had very little serious buyer traffic and in early November, we took it off the market.  We were in Charlotte at the dedication of a tree to Liza at a city park,

when our bartender and real estate agent, Bill Wrench, called to ask us if a couple could look at the house.  Eleanor had returned to ATL for a short stint at home, so her bedroom downstairs was not in a state to be shown.  With that caveat, we told Bill to let the potential buyers see the house.  That was a Friday.  By Sunday, we had an agreed upon sales price.

The extra challenge was that the buyers were Hindu and the wife’s mother in India told them they had to be in the house by December 10th (I kid you not).  Numerology was involved somehow.  We negotiated everything else, but in the end had to deal with a 10 day departure.  Many thanks to Friehoffer Moving; they did an amazing job boxing up everything we owned.

Like Blanche Dubois, we had to rely on the kindness of strangers.  We stayed with the Morellis for a while.  We went to New Hampshire with brother Dunn and family for Christmas.  Then, to keep from commuting 1400 miles every week, and because we didn’t have a house, MA & I drove out to Denver

We got out late (ATL brunch with the girls), so we spend our first night in Tupelo,MS.  We ate ribs at Corky’s in Memphis.   We listened to XM Elvis as we drove to Graceland.  We spent our 28th wedding anniversary at a Fairfield Suites in Tulsa,OK.  It was snowing;and I was really showing MA the world.  During the long drive, MA was somewhat uncomfortable with a sinus infection.  We got to the apartment (I had upgraded my Colorado housing in anticipation of her arrival) and she added some leg pain to her issues.  One week into our western adventure, and I had to spend a week in Pueblo, CO, where the Marriott and the Hampton Inn were fully booked, so we stayed at the Comfort Inn, right on the Interstate.
The terriorists (pictured here back in Atlanta) were with us, but I was able to leave work and come to the Comfort Inn and walk them during the day.  We progressed through January.   Mary Anne’s head was better, but her leg pain was getting worse.  The doc-in-the-box couldn’t find anything wrong, even in an X-ray, so prescribed some pain-killers.  The PA at the orthopedist also couldn’t find anything wrong, but prescribed an MRI of the hip.  That led to a diagnosis of a hairline fracture of the neck of the femur.  The orthopedic surgeon prescribed 8 weeks of no weight bearing.  So, in a small apartment in Greenwood Village, CO, we got MA a wheelchair, and settled into a routine.  I came home every day at noon to walk the dogs out and we just lived pretty close.

As a break in that routine, Caroline and friend Katy came out and the four of us went to Breckenridge to ski.  During that weekend, the house I grew up in came up for sale on Auction.com.  Without as much hesitation as you might think, I worked with cousin Berkeley and we put some pre-bids on Millstream 1.0.  By the time we came down from the mountains, we were on the way to owning land in the Bluegrass.

Mary Anne’s recovery plan was supposed to be eight weeks of non-weight bearing, with a check at four weeks.  After 4 weeks in the wheelchair, we went to visit the orthopedist.  I will never forget him walking into the exam room, looking at the X-ray on display on the monitor 10 feet away and saying “Oh, that’s not good”.  Turns out the neck of the femur had completely broken at some point during the four weeks.  This was a Tuesday and he told us he was going skiing in Switzerland on Thursday.  So, either we could be worked in for a hip replacement the next day, or we could wait 10 days.  Since clearly, nothing was going to get better until we had the surgery, we opted for an operation the next day.

Finally at least knowing the source of the pain might have made it better, but that was the hardest night we had.  I remember we were up watching “Yankee Doodle Dandy” in the wee hours of the morning, waiting for our turn in surgery.

I used this blog for updates that week. And then we were out of the hospital.

MA did physical therapy at the apartment and worked at spending less time in the wheelchair.  It was a long, slow process of healing.

By April, we were ready to come home.  But where was home?  Friend Kim (an architect) offered to have us stay with them.  He had recently hosted his father, during his recovery from hip surgery  Mary Anne flew from Denver to Cincinnati, at almost the same time Kim flew CVG to DEN.  I picked Kim up at the airport around 6pm and we headed east.  By noon the next day, we had driven 1200 miles and were at Kim’s house.

That’s a really good friend

Kim was generous enough to let us build an outdoor space for the dogs,

and I started to commute from Cincy to Denver.  In the evenings while I was gone, Kim, his wife Sarah, and MA would design our new house.  I’d come back on Thursday nights and see what the plans looked like that week.

After two months, we were ready to get a little place of our own.  Cousin Berkeley had just bought a small rental house in south Lexington.  It had a huge back yard for the dogs to run in.  

We moved in June 1.  Rather than rent 3 storage units, we filled up the garage and the 3rd bedroom with boxes.  Literally, filled them up

House plans were complete enough to arrange financing for the Barbie Dream House.  We moved forward with those plans and were working toward a ground breaking by August.  About the same time, Pha began to get worse with his terminal prostate cancer and he was admitted to hospice.  It was a difficult time for Muv to be alone, so we packed some clothes and set ourselves up in Pinehurst.  We met Caroline in Knoxville on the way, so she could take the terriers to Atlanta.  We weren’t sure how long we would be in Pinehurst, but assumed it would be for the duration.

I was booking flights 3 weeks out at that point, so kept checking about whether we should stay.  We continued to feel like we were helping during that hard time, so I was now commuting from Pinehurst to Denver every week.  3:45am wake up in Pinehurst - 10:30 MT at the desk in Denver on Monday mornings.  I’d get back to Pinehurst about midnight on Thursdays, but Pha was usually awake.  He wanted to hear about how my week had gone.

We flew back to Lexington for a weekend in September so Mary Anne could start her new MS medicine, Gilenya.  We landed in Cincy and borrowed Kim’s car to drive to LEX.  We had been at the rental house for about 30 minutes when cousin Berk called to say there was a strange car in the driveway at our house.  I told my landlord it was Kim’s car and we had driven it there, so all was well.  Then I opened the door and let Berk in.  It’s great to have family looking after you.

The house my parents had built had been razed by then, so we enjoyed the opportunity to see the footers for Millstream 2.0.  

We went back to Pinehurst and Pha got through his third chemo session.  The sessions were kind of hard on him, but clearly did what they were supposed to do.  His symptoms plateaued and he was doing pretty well.  By mid-October, it was clear that staying for the duration was going to be an indeterminately long time, so we packed up again and headed back to the rental on Seattle drive in Lexington.

We spent Thanksgiving week back in Pinehurst, with the entire family.  It was a great week. Most folks left on Saturday and by dinner Saturday night, Pha couldn’t even sit up and eat. It was the beginning of a more serious decline.

We had all planned to go to Puerto Rico with Dunn for Christmas.  As the time approached, we didn’t want Muv to be alone with Pha for Christmas, so MA and Eleanor decided to go to Pinehurst.  I flew to PR from Raleigh and enjoyed Christmas with Dunn, Julie, Jordan, Sophia, Caroline and BIll.  First Christmas Day without MA since 1982.

By this time, I had changed clients, so I was not flying to Denver every week.  It was a blessing to work from the house on Seattle Drive for a while, and it was an important time to be at the new house under construction making decisions about light switch placement and other matters of great import.

In early February, as I was visiting sister Piel and her husband Paul and taking care of niece Lucy while Piel had some thyroid cancer surgery, Muv called.  Pha was clearly near the end and it was time for us to go back.  As soon as I returned from Boston, MA & I packed up again and drove to Pinehurst.

Pha died peacefully on Feb 14, 2012, a few days after we got there.  We had a service in Pinehurst that weekend and planned another for the KY crowd a couple of weeks later.

I had hoped to be in the house by Derby Day.  Things weren’t ready enough for that, but we moved in June 1, and got our occupancy permit on June 2.

We’ve been settling ever since.  It’s absolutely extraordinary to be back in EXACTLY the same spot where I grew up.  I feel Pha here in very real ways.  In 1982, I wrote in my journal during sophomore year at Yale that I aspired to be an educated provincial.  I never thought it would happen, but now that’s what I’m on my way to be.

I hope to write more.  This was a very long story, but it was a very long two years.  Thanks to all of our friends and family for their love and support.

Come visit us by the creek.

The House that was

The deal in our house was that if MA started knitting again, I had to start writing again.  She was in town the other day, and asked Lorie, Darlin’ (our Garmin) how to get to the knitting store.  Her mojo is back and I will have a finished sweater by the time the weather will allow me to wear it.

The post following this one will be about our 2+ years in the wilderness - if I don’t write down that amazing timeline it will be lost forever.
This post is just to get Millstream 2.0 immortalized.  So to speak.
We moved in very early in June.  Last Thursday, we got the last box off the main floor.  We still have the basement to finish, but we are living here.
I walk the dogs on “The Park” usually twice a day.

They believe they have won the puppy lottery. It is incredibly restorative to walk by the creek and appreciate the countryside. The house lives very well.  Inspired by Caroline, we are having the family over for the first UK football game of the year on Sunday.  It’s a thrill to be here.

The Sleeping Porch

The Parlor

The Great Room

The front door (MA's 50th birthday present)

The kitchen

The Kitchen again

The Sun Room

The Sun Room again

View from the upper porch

View from the upper porch (with Scout)

More upper porch

Covered upper porch

View out the front door

Front from the cabin side

Front from the mailbox

Front from Aunt Beckie's side

Pups looking out the parlor as I take pictures

View from the Lower Porch

More Lower Porch

Stay tuned.  I think herself will keep knitting, and I need to keep writing.

My Old Kentucky Home

Or really, my new Kentucky home.  We're just weeks away from moving in and couldn't be more excited about it.

It's big and it's beautiful.  We are looking forward to hosting our friends.  We are looking forward to having access to all of our stuff after a year and a half in limbo.  We are just looking forward a lot at this point.

I hope to be able to write more after we get in.  Memorial Day is still a tantalizing possibility.  If not then, soon after.  Stay tuned.

A Eulogy for Pha

Before the funeral in Pinehurst

All four of the kids talked about Pha at the funeral in Pinehurst on 2/18, then again here in Georgetown last Saturday.  Mine is below:

What a bunch.  That’s what himself would say looking out on this group today.

God gave us a lot of grace at the end.  No pain, and a steady but not too long trip out.  He always liked the adventure, and now he’s on the ultimate adventure.  He’s with Denzil & Polly and his brothers, Keeley, Val, Kevin and Elizabeth, and playing Russian bank with Liza.

What are we going to do when any of us feel sick and want the wisest medical phone consult imaginable?  And if his answer was ever that you needed to go see a doctor, you knew you were in trouble.

The Great Pha.  That’s Pha spelled “P” “H” “A”.  Muv and Pha evolved as simplifications of the more formal Mother and Father strictly required in the family a generation earlier.  I remember it as being coined during the trip my father took with my high school class to Williamsburg where we added “THE” and “GREAT”.  He seemed to enjoy that so much that it stuck.

He’ll want us all to “Have a Nice Navy Day”, even today.  He certainly got to see the world when he left Georgetown to join the Navy.  His time in KY clearly had a strong impact at least on me - I’m back on the land we grew up on together.

There are too many stories to count.  One of my favorites was the baseball pickup games - driving through Georgetown and kids jumping in the back of the station wagon.  If you didn’t run out a grounder, it was two outs.  After one of the games, we had a very special treat and went to Burger Queen (I’m not going to sing the song, but yes Burger QUEEN was the first fast food restaurant in Georgetown).  Always short of cash, we had to pose mustard as cheese on the burger, and water as a flat Sprite.

After Sophia and I were 12+, sometimes we would get put out of the car before the family checked into a hotel.  We would just wander the halls until we found everybody.  “How old are we at this place?”

He loved his grandchildren, but never really got past his aversion to dirty diapers.  At 1 ½, Eleanor was staying with Grandmother and Grandfather at the townhouse that we called the squish-o-plex in Bethesda, MD while MA & I were gone, Eleanor made poo-poo for papa.  As a doctor, I guess himself couldn’t ignore it, so he put her in the car, drove both of them down to the school where Alice was teaching.  He held Eleanor up so Muv could see her through the window of her classroom and stop class to change the diaper.  Blood and guts wouldn’t get to him, but he didn’t like diapers.

His change of command from Jacksonville was in June of 1995.  Pha was able to make the party a birthday for Caroline as well as his celebration.  He even had it say happy birthday on the cake.  He was a great grandfather.

During the last few months especially, his favorite stories were about times he had told people things he thought they needed to hear that they weren’t necessarily interested in hearing.  While looking through memorabilia, he found a box of letters both to him and from him.  You have never heard the phrase “boy I write well” so often in an eight hour day in your life.

TGP put a lot of stock in the Myers Briggs test.  He’s an ENFP.  Listen to the description that he saved of that personality type:

ENFPs are warm, enthusiastic people, typically very bright and full of potential. They live in the world of possibilities, and can become very passionate and excited about things. Their enthusiasm lends them the ability to inspire and motivate others, more so than we see in other types. They can talk their way in or out of anything. They love life, seeing it as a special gift, and strive to make the most out of it.

He certainly made the most of his.

Mary Anne gave him a money clip that said: “With Money in your pocket, you are wise and handsome and you sing well too.”  That’s my father.

The tray he gave Muv for their 51st anniversary really says it all:

LI Annos We made beautiful things together We traveled the world What a joy, Amen

Children, music, laughter and theater

I’ve been married to my wonderful wife for over 28 years, and Pha gets some of the credit.  When he was exploring leaving private practice to join the Navy in 1980, he & Muv had dinner with the Hortons and their 17 year old daughter Mary Anne.  She had recently been introduced to some other Navy brat, so she involuntarily made an unenthusiastic face when Pha told her that he had a son about her age.  He took note of her reaction and tried to make it seem better for her.  He told her, “Don’t worry, you’ll like him.  He’s a blind, balding albino paraplegic”.  She laughed.

The Great Pha did love theater.  We saw him perform in his last play last September here in Pinehurst where he played an old man that fell in love with a woman, played by mother.  He wore his eyepatch and loved the playing that role.  Much of their theater experience in the 70s was at Playhouse in the Park in Cincinnati, with Pha and Muv in the audience.  The drive up from Georgetown was straight up 75, over the bridge then an interesting fly-over ramp that still exists to take the car up to the top of Mt. Adams.  He never turned off the cruise control.  Muv sucked in her breath so hard that we called it cleaning her teeth.  But he didn’t slow down his whole life, and he wasn’t about to let a curved ramp slow him down.

He somehow always made his optimistic outlook seem right to people.  We were blessed to know him, to love him and to be loved by him.

D Vertrees Hollingsworth 1937-2012

The Great Pha died this morning, peacefully leaving us in his sleep.  

San Diego Command, 1998

Characteristically, he wrote his own obituary:

DVH Obit

D Vertrees Hollingsworth died on February 14, 2012, at age 74. He lived a fortunate life, doing things for which he was reasonably prepared and appreciated, thereby gaining a wonderful family, a happy and adventuresome life and genuine pleasure in every day granted him.

He grew up on a Kentucky horse farm near Lexington during World War II and learned the value of hard work and how to ride thoroughbreds.  He was the last of five children of a playwright and an engineer and so learned early on to love both sciences and the arts.  He was graduated from Yale University with a degree in American Studies, from the University of Cincinnati College of Medicine as a Doctor of Medicine and completed an Internship at Receiving Hospital in Detroit, MI. During that era he met and married the love of his life, Alice Elizabeth Broadbent, with whom he begat four delightful children.

Dr. Hollingsworth served in the US Navy as a Lieutenant in the Medical Corps for two years in the Vietnam era, followed by a resignation of his Reserve commission and an entry into the private practice of Family Medicine on the same day Medicare took effect: 1 Aug 66.  After 14 years of care for rural patients (“the skin and its contents”), he took his wife and three of his children off to serve his county (to Teach, to Travel, and to have some Time Off) as a Naval Officer – first teaching young physician graduates the specialty of Family Medicine, then medical students at the F. Edward Hebert School of Medicine in the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences for nine years.  Dr. Hollingsworth was graduated from the Naval War College and Salve Regina University with a Master’s degree in Management and went on to serve as Commanding Officer at three Naval medical treatment facilities.

In 1998, he and his wife retired to Pinehurst, NC, where he spent seven years as a family physician at Fort Bragg and as an emergency physician in Laurinburg, NC.  He was active in his church, Brownson Memorial Presbyterian in Southern Pines, NC, and joined his musical wife in several community chorus efforts in every community in which they lived.  He was an amateur actor in numerous productions for more than 60 years.

He was predeceased by the sad loss of a beloved granddaughter (10 year-old Liza Hollingsworth) but is survived by his wife of 51 years, Alice B. Hollingsworth, and by four children:  Eben L. Hollingsworth and family of Georgetown, KY, Sophia G. Hollingsworth of Charlotte, NC, Dunn D. Hollingsworth and family of Mt. Pleasant, SC, and E. Piel Hollingsworth and family of Milton, MA.  At his death he had five grandchildren: Eleanor, Caroline and Jordan Hollingsworth as well as Maxwell and Lucy Hollingsworth-Hays.

“You only live once, but if you work it right, once is enough”

A memorial service will be held at Brownson Memorial Presbyterian Church, Southern Pines, NC, on Saturday, February 18, 2012 at 11am with a reception to follow.   There will be a gathering in honor of Dr. Hollingsworth’s life at Georgetown College’s Thomas & King Conference Center in Georgetown, KY, on Saturday March 3 from 2:00 to 4:00.

In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to: Plowshares Institute, PO Box 243 or 809 Hopmeadow Street, Simsbury, CT 06070

The world will be a lesser place without him.

So Said Kent

Last I wrote, we were leaving Pinehurst for some house building time in Lexington.  That happened, and I will post some other day with more pictures of that project.  

Facebook has taken some of the steam out of blogging.  


However, Mary Anne and I are now back in Pinehurst.  Pha can't get himself out of bed and Muv can't pick him up, so it's time for us to be back to help until the end.  He is still not in pain, but he's certainly past even his ability to enjoy his time.  God has gotten us all to the point where we are ready to say goodbye.


This may be the last picture of all five of Denzil and Polly's children together.  I have it dated 1995 and it was taken outside of Mt. Horeb church.

As we reminisce, I thought it would be good to share the "So Said Kent" letter.  My uncle Kent was in New York state in 1949, learning about horses and life.  As he was away from the bluegrass on the occasion of his little brother's twelfth birthday, he wrote the missive below.  The end sayings are classic Hollingsworth lore; I rarely make a long interstate drive when I don't apologize to Kent for getting cut off by another car (learn to see a pocket...).  The picture below

hangs in the houses of my siblings and many of my cousins.  


We were also touched on this round of re-reading of Kent's letter by the references to the Hollys.  Cousin Hunter apparently calls the house we are building the Taj Mah Holly.  Whatever anyone calls it, it should soon be home.  We look forward to hosting family and friends there.


Enough intro, here's the letter:

Shipped into Belmont park yesterday afternoon on one of the hottest days of the year.  Long Island looked like a populated prairie.  Beautiful parkways are scorched, Jamaica’s infield looks like a huge egg shaped sand pit.

Buddy, Arnold Firckland, and I drove up from Delaware and it was like riding a race all the way; Buddy jockey for positions, Arnold shouted when it looked like we were going to be cut off, we rounded the field, and in a few scary moments, squeezed through on the inside.  Race riding must really be tough.

Broke away late yesterday morning after watching low and high work a slow 5/8, sweated out an hour wait for the Staten lsland ferry but made it up here in four and a half hours.

All of Buddy’s Belmont friends are giving him the business now.  We ate last night in the restaurant where he and Helen always had dinner and I didn’t think we were going to get through it.  He was pretty good down in Delaware, but he’s getting right back to what he was when I first came up; silent, stares, red eyes, hollars a lot at the guineas, already scratched one, another on the way, nervous and jumpy as a fly.

We have a room, just across the road from the track.  Cowboy and Beetle--one of the exercise boys-- live in the same house.  Our room is not much bigger than the hall closet.  Two beds and a dresser cover the floor like an all over rug.  We both can’t put our shoes on at the same time.  The small window at one end that takes up the whole wall, allows light an air to leak in sometimes.  It is clean though.

Vertrees -- happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Vertrees, happy birthday to you. (hum a little tune has you read this and smile for you have received acknowledgement of your twelfth anniversary from your brother Kent).  I thought perhaps of sending you a yacht , or complete baseball attire, or a lifetime subscription to Looney Tunes, or a speedometer for your putt—putt, or a suit from Abercrombie and Fitch, or even a small motor car, but then I thought, psaw, this isn't the low type fellow who would want nasty old material gifts; he would find joy only in the thought.  Rejoice quickly for I am about to change the thought to another paragraph.

As the 4th of July is a day of festivities, I took a day off and went to the races.  Sure of the good thing in the 6th, I laid the whole of Kent Hollingsworth’s estate on Mark High's big fat nose.  I might just as well have lit a fire cracker with it; I’m sure I would have had more fun.  Arnold broke late on him and he just could not catch up in time.  Mark High hasn’t got much heart any way.  If I ever tell you to bet on him again, even if he is picked all the way across the form, forget it.  Damned half-miler.

Dorcas-- am in the big town now.  Buddy and I finagled two handsome tickets to South Pacific.  Yet to see them though.  Saw the Statue of Liberty, rode on the ferry, swore at a cab driver, feel like real big New Yorker now.  Wish you were here etc.

Got my first letter from my father today.  Am about to return it this minute.

Sunday afternoon passes slowly at the race track.  Got up late this morning, dragged out to the track, walked all the horses. Buddy walks all the horses on Sunday if he can, believes even horses like to have a break once a week.  Got through with the work early, came back, had "over light, ‘tatas, coffee with", read three papers and the form, napped until 1:30, wrote my mother.  A guy can bear with anything as long as there is a home in his mind he can look back at.  It's a real support.  Those big, strong pillars standing sturdily on their rock foundations, have a value far exceeding the puny $125,000 bills some peanut would like to exchange for them.  They are big, secure, warm, home.  They are because my mother made them so.

Without them, I would look around all the squalor and filth that I am walking through, and think, "what am I gunning for?  What’s it getting me?  Is it worth it?"  With them, I am learning, liking what I’m doing. I'm camping out.  You and father did a great deal when you invested your money in that home.  I hope I can do as much for my children.

Buddy has no home you know.  No family.  Man asked him who he was going to change his bonds and securities to, now that Helen had died, and he was struck dumb.  Said, “why I haven't got a person in the world" almost to himself after breathless minute.  He hasn’t got a thing to live for right now.  It sure is thin up here.

It’s dark and rainy out.  The first rain in over a month beats against the petrified sod, rolls off, slobbers at the mouths of sewers.  Loaded cars splash by on the highway below, heading for the tip of the island and a washed out holiday.  Everyone is in a hurry. I wonder why.

By heart alarmed everyone yesterday, pulled ahead at the head of the stretch, faltered, was whipped to the wire by two others, a half of a length separating them.  A terrible race, the next one was run three seconds faster; Arno surprised me by breaking so well, but when he came back he told me that he had just happened to nudge her as the gates opened, give him a length jump on the rest.  First time I’ve ever seen it happen, usually his mount is backing up or just sleepy when the bell rings.

Rags to Riches worked a good half yesterday; been going hard with this big sluggish thing, Arcaro asked for him- so bones, his agent, says he has no reason to hustle mounts -- I believe he'll be right there his next out at $5000.

Letter from father said he could get no form, heard about a horse a week after he won.  Sent him the address of Georgie Wolf’s brother, who lives in Calgary, who bets, wears spats, purple vests, derbies, plays cards.

This is the day of my brother Vertrees' twelfth birthday.  I hope that he, in the next eight years, has as many good times, lucky breaks, laughs, loves, and lumps, as I have had, and one more candle to grow on.  Son, listen to your old brother and heed:

l) There are no cinch bets.

2) Don't tear up your tickets until the official is flashed.

3) Learn to see a pocket before you're in it.

4) It’s the guy with the kick in the last eighth that gets the glory.

So Said Kent

The originals, with typos and all: