My oldest sibling Ann Fox once said that the thank-you note is the last bastion of a civilized society. Since I’ve been remiss in my thank-you notes to everyone who helped make my move to California as painless as possible, here’s a “swell foop” wherein I attempt to remember everyone who contributed to the monumental task. I note that this list will not be exhaustive as to names or act. If I omit anyone, and such omission comes to mind or attention, I will make amends in a later post.
Going back, then, to late November forward through June 2018, I give thanks to these folks for everything that they have done for me, especially the indicated efforts.
Sherry DeJanes, for stepping into the thick of the mess caused by the oversights of other professionals relative to the closing of my real estate sale.
Paula Kenyon-Vogt and Sheldon Vogt for going “above and beyond” the duties of friendship to help me get the Holmes House ready for listing and sale; for Last Minute Storage Unit Rental and Remnants of My Life Hauling; and in particular to Sheldon for fabricating the beautiful cherry table for Angel’s Haven. (Not to mention to both of them, for being my shoulders-on-which-to-cry for the last four years).
Katrina Taggart, Chris Taggart, and Ross Taggart for courage under fire on the last day of my occupancy of the Holmes House; and for packing damn near everything left by that date which was way more than I had anticipated would remain. Special Mention to Ross Taggart for packing and shipping some of my beloved art. And, to all the Taggarts, for fostering Little Girl and being there in her last moments when we could not.
Abbey Vogt & the stalwart fiance John (whose surname I cannot this moment recall) and a couple who are John and Abbey’s friends, for Piano Moving At The Last Moment; and to Abbey for Kitchen Packing and providing countless hugs.
Rick Diamond, for packing my stuff, storing it, moving the china cabinet twice, helping me drive to CA, and installing my composting toilet (hurrah!).
Bonnie Decker, my buyer, and her boyfriend, cousin, and friends, for arriving with cookies and much-needed additional muscle on that last frantic day.
Jim MacLaughlin, for emotional and practical assistance long after the law might have arguably required same.
Miranda Erichsen, for packing four sets of china, a bunch of hopelessly duplicative kitchenware, and 25 years of books; and hauling said items to God Knows Where so that I wouldn’t have to deal with them; for scraping the playroom floor which I have no idea how she accomplished; and for forgiving my moods for three years and especially during some tiring and tiresome weeks before the move.
Alan White, for keeping those bodies buried and holding the law firm together while I tried to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up.
Tricia Scaglia, for giving me somewhere to land the tattered remnants of the Corley Law Firm’s twenty-four year ignoble history and generally acting as though I might be worth the effort even when I was convinced that I had never been and would never be.
Brenda Dingley, Elizabeth Unger Carlisle, and Jeanne Foster, for giving me berth on my visits to Kansas City over the last six months; and for being that Cheerful Triumvarate to which I still attach my ties with Kansas City.
Jenny Rosen who let me sleep on her amazingly comfortable couch for two nights on one of my visits; sent me chocolate when I needed it; and gifted me a Himalyan salt Night Light as a tiny replica of the one which I had at the Holmes House.
Carolyn Karr and her mysterious spouse, for being faithful YouTube followers of my tiny adventures, for being constant friends, and for tending my favorite curmudgeon’s gravesite in my stead.
Lyne’t Gray, for hosting me on her radio show, sending constant love and affirmation, and being a shining example of persistence in the face of seeming failure.
Cindy Cieplik, Ruthie Becker, Angela Garrett-Carmack, Jake Carmack, Mary Pettet, Genevieve Casey, Sara Minges, David Arnold Hughes, Jeremy Clark, Ben Hoppes, Penny Thieme, Lori Hooten Roller, Will Leathem, and scores of other Kansas City folks who tirelessly send love & light, meet me for coffee when I’m “back home”, and otherwise validate my very existence with their undying affection. (This list could grow every time I preview what I’m writing. I’m bound to forget some of the Kansas City contingent.)
Sharon Alberts and Ellen Cox, for hosting my son and me at Christmas and me at Easter and being my first “real” California friends.
Jim and Nancy Carriere, for parking privileges, guest room lodging, cheerleading, job-search promotion, and generally honoring the Rotarian motto of #serviceaboveself time and time again, without much, if any, return on their investment in me.
Jim & Jamie McNeely and Randy Steinman, for sending my resume out to everybody they know in the Bay area and/or giving me tips on job-hunting late in life.
Hope Rehak, for sending little notes of encouragement which seem to arrive when I most need them.
Pattie Whitaker, Macrina Flaner, and Christina Canady, for becoming part of my Delta tribe.
Kimberley Kellogg, for sharing the West Coast adventure with me; and for understanding in a way that no one else can, because she has been here too.
Patricia Reynolds, for establishing the Corinne Corley Fan Club and serving as its President-for-Life, including visiting me at Park Delta Bay and making my lovely Angel’s Haven plaque.
Phil Carrott, for continuing to read my blog and reach out from time-to-time, even though he did not have to do so and probably gets precious little in return.
My little brother Frank Corley, for giving me a place to stay during the Great Road Trip of 2017, when I distributed parts of the Corley history to my nieces and son; and for being a friend, which I never expected; not to mention, being a good example of excellent parenting from whom I learn more and more every day.
My big sister Ann Fox for sending love and support, at unexpected times with graciousness and no expectation of anything but a thank-you note.
My big sister Joyce, for coming after the August floods to muck out my basement; storing Patrick’s childhood; packing more than I thought possible in various two-hour visits; being where and when I needed her without complaint; and most of all, for inspiring me with her own courage time and time again.
Last but far from least, my son Patrick Corley, for letting me sell his childhood home and foster out his beloved dog Little Girl; for coming to visit me at Christmas in my new home; for calling nearly every day to check on me; for tolerating having a kooky mother; for being everything that a woman could want of a son, time and time again, for his whole life; for making me laugh when I desperately wanted to cry; and for giving me the chance to be thankful that I became a mother twenty-seven years ago this Sunday. I have never once regretted that fabulous privilege, and only hope that I have done him as proud as he has done me.
Mugwumpishly tendered, on this fifth day of July 2018, the fifty-fifth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.
Livingston Taylor and James Taylor singing the Thank You Song.