Mrs. Barbara Dinger Jacobson - Flute Aficionado and Friend

RRRRRIIIING!! "Hello" I answered the phone. On the other end of the line, an elderly lady spoke "Hello. I'm Barbara Jacobson, the flute teacher calling about tutoring your daughter." Before I could introduce myself, she continued "I was asked to contact you by Jane Sholine, the music director at Lawton Chiles Middle Academy. Now you listen carefully. I only accept students who are willing to learn and excel. I'm a professional flute teacher and I was a faculty member at Florida Southern College before I retired. So don't expect me to come just to babysit your daughter. Is that understood?" I was caught completely off my guard. "Yes, Mrs. Jacobson." She proceeded to make an appointment to meet with my daughter before disconnecting. "Sheesh. I'm going to get along swell with her." I said sarcastically.

The doorbell rang. "That must be the flute teacher." I said as I opened the door. Standing in front of me was a frail-looking lady with messy platinum hair and clothes that were out of style. She was beautiful and she had the most captivating blue eyes. "Come in Mrs. Jacobson" I invited her in. After a long conversation and interview with me and my daughter, she agreed to have my daughter as her student. "Thank you, Mrs. Jacobson." I said. "You can call me Barbara" she ordered. "Yes, Mrs. Jacobson. Maybe next time." I never, ever called her by her first name. She always remained "Dear Mrs. Jacobson."

Over the next eight years, Mrs. Jacobson and I became very close friends. Her beauty, mesmerizing, soft blue eyes and impeccable command of speech always held my attention captive. I argued with her on every topic we discussed. Two strong personalities had clashed and neither one was going to let the other get the upper hand. Because of her husband's fading health (he was sixteen years her senior), her finances were deteriorating rapidly. Knowing very well she would never accept charity, she fought with me vehemently when I tricked her by doubling her pay and gave her gift cards for gas and groceries. She deserved it and she needed it even more. Although I finally reasoned with her, and she eventually accepted, she remained too proud to ask for it. I even chided her in frustration once "Mrs. Jacobson, I'm your best friend. I don't know how many best friends you have but I'm always looking out for you in your best interest." We fought about everything because that's what best friends do.

Whenever she visited, I made tea for her, sometimes coffee. Sometimes she declined and asked for a glass of milk or yogurt. I never knew what she had a taste for until she asked. However, she always went home with enough food to last her and her husband for a few days, which I used to prepare fresh while she was tutoring my daughter and keep ready for her. I even sent something special for her seven dogs. She returned the empty containers the next week. She made her conditions clear. "No lamb or veal. I would like for an animal to have lived at least a year before it's life is taken from it without its permission." she said. With that statement she changed what I purchased for the entire family at the grocery store. When her husband was ill and admitted into rehab, I went to visit him and spent a few hours with him. I sneaked some healthy protein bars past security for him when he got hungry at night. An essay of my visit with him can be found here. How to be Human - The Tale of Dr. Howard Jacobson.

After her husband passed away in 2018, Mrs. Jacobson became more relaxed. She was looking forward to a long life and a less-stressful lifestyle, not having to worry about her husband all the time. "Both my parents lived well into their nineties, closer to one hundred." she said proudly. I told her "I'm sure you'll beat their record." She had become quite progressive and technologically savvy as well. She updated her phone and purchased a tablet and smartwatch to keep track of her new lifestyle and daily activities.

Her freedom was destined to be short-lived. Age and years of stress of taking care of ailing parents and aging husband were catching up with Mrs. Jacobson quickly. She had become frailer over the years and she needed help with little things. I was always glad to assist. I helped her with checking the engine oil, tire pressures and the condition of the battery in her car. On other occasions it was printing something that she needed. It was all good. When she told me on July 13, 2017, that she was had cancer and could not teach any longer, I was devastated. I could tell that she was heartbroken too. I knew this day was coming. I had always wanted to take studio portraits of this lady, but she never allowed me. As she sat there chatting with me I took a few pictures of her without her knowledge with my phone. I have attached all the pictures I have of Mrs. Jacobson as they are all precious to me. On her way out, I hugged her and said goodbye and she cried when she left. This was a lady who would never cry in anybody's presence. As usual, I instructed my daughter Nisha "Please walk Mrs. Jacobson to her car and make sure she's okay driving out." My daughter needed to learn the value of the effort this lady had invested in my daughter to share her knowledge. I had asked Nisha to escort Mrs. Jacobson every single time she had visited for the past six years. This time would be no different, except it would be for the final time. Over the years Mrs. Jacobson had many students all of whom she loved dearly, but Nisha had the honor of being the last one she accepted. So it was very fitting to both that Nisha would walk Mrs. Jacobson after the final flute lesson she conducted before retirement. (Click on the images for enhanced detail)

Mrs. Jacobson reflects back on her travels, students, illustrious career....

.... and her upcoming retirement.......

..... and her plans for the future

Over the next eighteen months, I stayed in constant touch with Mrs. Jacobson over the phone and email. However, she always declined my offer to visit. Finally, on Thanksgiving Day, 2018, she agreed to join us for an Indian meal which I had prepared in her honor. We were all so happy when she graced us with her presence. She even agreed to have her pictures taken. YAY! It was a very casual family affair. After all, she had once told me "You are the only family I have". She was an only child and she did not have any children with Dr. Howard Jacobson. I was her family. She was my family. She was not in physical contact with a lot of people and so she was most eager to talk at every opportunity. When Mrs. Jacobson started talking, she could talk. I listened to every word while she rambled on. (Click on the images for enhanced detail)

Mrs. Jacobson enjoying a spicy Indian meal.

Runny-nosed and teary-eyed, she enjoyed it all.

Eternal Friends. We shall remain best friends for life and beyond.
A happy Mrs. Jacobson flanked by Nisha and me.
This photograph embodies the friendship, respect,
love and feelings we had for each other perfectly.

Mrs. Jacobson and her favorite student Nisha.

I can tell you with certainty, no other student took more interest

in Mrs. Jacobson's well-being.

Thanksgiving Dinner, November 03, 2018. Mrs. Jacobson opened her heart to us. "I think it's okay for me to feel so horrible. I do my things in the morning and eat lunch and then I rest. It makes me more able to think. In the beginning, I had to deal with my husband's pensions. It is incredibly frustrating and even embarrassing when you have to call so many departments and get things straightened out. You can't think straight. It's mainly that I can't find the right words or have the patience. Then I found out that everyone I deal with does not interpret what I say when I tell them I'm all alone and I have no support. They assume that you're living a normal life. Even though I was taking care of him, Howard didn't communicate very well. And basically, everyone disappeared from my life when I stopped teaching. My entire life disappeared. And now, I'm going to have to move when I can, but I have to have the dogs with me. I have four dogs now. And to go from having so many people around me to talk to someone at the grocery store or during doctors appointments have been a shock. Turns out I have a medical phobia. Going back 70 years when we live in the country, I had an unpleasant medical condition and I went from doctor to doctor. It wasn't very pleasant at all." She laughs as her mind travels back into time.

She carries on "When I had the operation they expected me to take care of myself. So going through all the biopsies has been freakish. I also had an incredible phobia of needles, so they just put a towel over my head." We all laughed. "I don't live in a very friendly neighborhood. So the four dogs have been incredible. When I do move I want the dogs to go to a good home before I move into a facility. But I don't do so well living with strangers. It takes a while to find people you like. So I want to stay on my own as long as I can."

I joked back "You sound like me. Phobia of needles and can't get along with anyone I don't like. Heck, I don't even get along with people I like." We all laughed. "You know I have like five real friends in the world and you are one of them." I reminded her that in spite of our generation gap we remained best friends.

The conversation carried on for an hour or more before we sat down to eat. We had a great time that Thanksgiving Day and we were all thankful for having spent time with Mrs. Jacobson. I was particularly thankful that she didn't have to be by herself. I hugged her and thanked her for coming as she left. "Mrs  Jacobson you are my best friend"  I reassured her. "You can call me Barbara you know" she laughed. "Yes, Mrs. Jacobson. Maybe next time." I replied with a smile. She cried once more as I held her tightly and stroked her head gently to comfort her before we walked her to her car.

A few months went by. I had spoken to Mrs. Jacobson in April and she expressed her wish to come to visit us when Nisha was home for the summer. June 28, 2018, 12:44pm. The phone rings and it's Mrs. Jacobson. "My cancer has metastasized, so I am under treatment again and I don't know how much time I have. Now I can't tell you when I'll be able to visit, so I'll just let you know when I'm feeling good."

July 27, 11:27am. RRRRRIIIING!! The caller ID indicated it was Mrs. Jacobson. Expecting her visit that day, I answered very enthusiastically with a big smile "Hello Mrs. Jacobson." The lady on the other end said, "Hello. I'm Michelle Shiver, a friend of Barbara Jacobson." At that very moment, before she said anything else, I knew. Three days earlier, on July 24, 2019, Mrs. Jacobson had passed away. Rest in Peace, my dearest Mrs. Jacobson. I will love you and miss you forever.

Although she had no immediate family, Mrs. Jacobson was cherished by my family and a few of her friends. "Capture Your Life. Dictate Your Legacy." It's never been truer. Mrs. Jacobson was a giant who dictated her legacy. I feel privileged and was fortunate to have captured a sliver of it.

Mrs. Barbara Dinger Jacobson (December 31 1939 - July 24, 2019)

It's not light or dark. When a person in your life is gone, life is empty.

Addendum: A Celebration of Life Ceremony was held in memory of Mrs. Jacobson on Saturday, September 07, 2019 at the Annie Pfeiffer Chapel on the Florida Southern College campus. The photographs from the ceremony are posted below. Please add any missing names identifying the individuals in the photographs. Your assistance in this matter is greatly appreciated. Read all the captions first and then click on the pictures to enjoy enhanced detail.

Before the Service at Annie Pfiffer Chapel

Pianist playing before the ceremony

Michelle Shiver speaks about Mrs. Jacobson

Sophia Jean, one of Mrs. Jacobson's students
performs exquisitely

Sophia Jean performing
Sonata "Undine" Opus 167
I & IV Movements

Accompanying Pianist performed magnificently as well

Simple, just like Mrs. Jacobson would have wanted it.

Mrs. Jacobson's colleague speaks

FSC Alumni Flute Choir led by Crystal Short Cooper

Prayer for Mrs. Jacobson

Darkness

Before I begin, I wish to mention the lyrics to "Darkness", one of my favorite songs by The Police written by drummer nonpariel Stewart Copeland.

"I can dream up schemes when I'm sitting in my seat
I don't see any flaws till I get to my feet
I wish I never woke up this morning
Life was easy when it was boring

I could make a mark if it weren't so dark
I could be replaced by any bright spark
But darkness makes me fumble
For a key
To a door
That's wide open..."

The journey: This blog is a documentation of my life. So it ticks along .... my life. We all traverse through rough times in life when we're desperately searching for purpose. Whether it is the loss of someone dear or a dear little friend who is lost in life, we all suffer losses and experience the negativity that trails behind. While it was natural for me to have fought these feelings in the past as a younger me, only recently have I started accepting them and even embracing them. That does not mean it's easy or that I asked for it. It is during these trying, dark times that I look for any sense of direction - a path in the shadows, a glimmer of hope, a staircase to elevate me to where the light glows.

Darkness sculpts life: "Only in your darkest moments will you discover your guiding light." Although I crave happiness most of the time, I have come to the realization that I have to venture through the shadows to discover the real me. When life weighs on us, understanding our dark moments can enrich and brighten our future.  Does experience gained through darkness make future setbacks easier? I don't believe so for one minute. The circumstances may be similar, yet each hurdle is unique and we learn and adapt from each one individually. Although we journey through dark times, they are not here to stay and I always look forward to a future filled with optimism. Hunker down. Fight Back. Until next time.

Hope Fuels Joy: All of which encouraged me to pick up my camera to pick a different direction. I wanted to shoot in black and white with a modern camera and classic legacy lenses from decades ago to portray a film noir look and eliminate the confusion contributed by colour. I kept it simple with just a couple of photographs shot within the boundaries of my home. The photographs have no message, other than we must chart out our own direction in life when we're confronted by hardships and we feel estranged. Isolating myself from my family and friends, only served to alienate myself from myself. In the past year I've hardly ever stepped outside my home. Yet I have learned more about myself, life in general, seen the world and how it operates more than in the past fifty years. I decided to focus my energy into my photography to create something of value to me. Inspiration from the song provided a theme for my project. Today, I'm happier than I've ever been in a long time, just radiating positivity. I hope you are too. Thanks for your time and friendship.

"Chiselled of Shadows"
In desperation, I look outside my frosted bathroom window
which hesitantly reveals blurry outlines from the other side.
It does not prevent me from looking outside.
It doesn't prevent someone from the outside looking in.
We all see what we want to see. I see light but remain in the dark.
A photograph gift from my friend Bob Rosinsky
lurks on the wall on the right. It is a reminder of a friend I no longer get to see.
(Click on image for higher resolution)

Look to the light for inspiration
(Click on image for higher resolution)

Wander into the dark for enlightenment
(Click on image for higher resolution)

It's not light or dark,
When a person in your life is gone, life is empty
(Click on image for higher resolution)

Introspect. Taking a deeper look at myself
Added June 30, 2021
(Click on image for higher resolution)

And so the song continues.

"Instead of worrying about my clothes
I could be someone that nobody knows
I wish I never woke up this morning
Life was easy when it was boring

I can dream up schemes when I'm sitting in my seat
I don't see any flaws till I get to my feet
I wish I never woke up this morning
Life was easy when it was boring"

All pictures shot with Fujifilm X-H1 and Carl Zeiss Touit 32mm f/1.8 lens in Acros-R mode although they have been processed differently as I do not have the correct Photoshop plugin for this camera.

A Sparkling Diamond. Gone In A Flash

I already don't want to do this. Yesterday was a horrific day. As I started dressing, I picked up my black trousers and then my plain shirt. As I grabbed my pair of black dress shoes and started slipping my feet into them, I grimly reminded my wife "The last three or four times I've worn these exact same clothes and shoes, I've attended a funeral." This time would be no different. I was headed to a funeral. But there was a difference. This was a funeral for an eleven year old girl; just a baby. Out of respect for the family, I have decided not to disclose any names. The story gets more tragic. Read on.

As I arrived at the Funeral Home, I realized that the service was already in procession. We were a bit late for the service as my wife was working that morning and we had to drive across town. I'm a very punctual person. I don't like being late. It's a mark of disrespect for whoever you are meeting.

I waited outside the chapel for a few moments before I was quietly ushered in and asked to take a seat on the right side way up front. I didn't want to be in the front. At lest I was seated in the aisle if I should feel the urge to leave. As I took my seat next to my wife I saw the tiny open coffin and try as hard as I might, I could not help but look at the girl sleeping peacefully inside. She was dark, had black curly hair, some light makeup and a creamy dress. An adult, possibly a chaplain, preacher or faculty member of the family's church was speaking his comforting thoughts about the girl. I wasn't paying attention to what was said because I was focused on the girl. I tried to live her life through my eyes. I saw her as a baby, growing up, playing with other girls, laughing, playing with dogs, looking into her mother's eyes. Everything. I looked away from her, but caught myself captivated in a trance. I dared not look at her, yet I couldn't keep my eyes away. This was going to mess with my mind. I knew it.

Shortly thereafter, a girl classmate came to the microphone and shared her very touching memories of her departed friend. I started listening. She was already in tears and brought everyone who had come to pay their respects to tears as she shared her personal stories and first impressions of their meeting. A few more girls came forth and shared their heartfelt moments. One of them had lost her father and her departed friend had consoled her in her time of grief. Another came forward who had recently lost her mother and spoke of how her friend was there for her. Everyone who spoke made it clear that the girl we were remembering was truly a blessing in their lives; always smiling and laughing and playing with them. Another family member mentioned that girl had written an autobiography about herself, in which she mentioned all her accolades, and her dreams of becoming a pediatrician when she grew up. I looked at my wife and she looked back at me. This has all been very devastating to my wife and I was there to support her. I held her hand tightly.

As the service came to a conclusion, the mourners were asked to offer their personal condolences to the parents if they wished in a row by row orderly pattern starting from the rear as they exited the chapel. The mother of the child saw my wife and waved at her with her heart breaking so as to thank her for attending. It was going to be a long wait, but finally our turn arrived. So far the mother had held her composure well as she was consoled by friends and family. I prepared my wife to be prepared for a breakdown. As my wife approached the mother both broke down in tears and hugged each other. The mother reminded my wife that she had done everything for her dearest daughter. My wife told the mother not to blame herself for the loss.

This little jewel of a child, just eleven years old, had committed suicide. Eleven year-old committing suicide? Can you even grasp that? I cannot. What demons were hiding inside this child that caused her to make such a disastrous terminal decision? Did she not think of  what would happen to her mother and father? She was old enough to know. She was loved, she wasn't bullied in school, she had lots of friends, loving mother and father and a beautiful home. Yet something went wrong. How could anyone have missed the signs? How? Nobody was to blame. There is no explanation that will suffice. I let my wife have her turn and as my wife stepped aside I embraced the mother tightly and told her how sorry I was for her loss. I couldn't even imagine the pain in her heart. I told her my daughter went to college and we are miserable without her, so I simply couldn't fathom her situation. I asked her to give me some of her pain. The mother just sank into my arms and started sobbing loudly as I held her tightly and rubbed her head. I was a complete stranger to her. I had never met her before. My wife joined us as I held them both tightly and we all cried together. We held each other for an eternity, longer than everyone else before us. Very unwillingly, we broke out of the group embrace, and I managed to crack a tiny smile. I asked the mother to contact us if she needed anything and walked out of the funeral home totally devastated. I had been crushed by a tsunami. I don't think I'll ever forget April 06, 2019. RIP little girl.

Friends, I stopped blogging a long time ago, but I was desperately compelled to document my thoughts. This is the second funeral I have attended consecutively where two souls were lost to suicide and depression. They lived lives surrounded by people, yet they were all alone. Please, it is never too early and never too late to talk to your young children, grownup  children and even adult family members about depression, suicide and hurtful thoughts, just as you've spoken about drugs, alcohol, smoking and sex. The depression threat is infinitely more powerful that all those vices combined. Medicine, professionals and treatment can and will help, but believe me, nothing is going to matter more than a helping hand that understands, because professionals and medicine have no vested interest in you. Family and friends who have invested in a person are all that matter. All the money in the world and fans made no difference to Robin Williams. He was encapsulated by millions of people and yet he was all alone. Be honest with yourself. If you need help with even the most mundane of needs, please ask for help. Don't suffer in silence. A smile and a hug to a complete stranger goes a long, long way. Trust me. I live in a cocoon myself. Therefore, I start conversations with total strangers in grocery stores, gas stations and even stop lights. I believe I have that special gift communicating with people and I share it at every opportunity. Sometimes. I maybe the only one someone has spoken to in a while. Like this one friend I have. I am all my friend has and my friend is all I have. You know who you are. Hug your loved ones tight, be safe and keep on enjoying life. Take care and thanks for being my friend. :)