Cool thing is that Lynn got to know this before she left us.

You’da never guessed she was even sick when I told her about Tribeca. She launched out of her chair and threw her arms around me.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie! That’s wonderful! It’s all coming together!”

She just beamed. For a moment, she was light as a feather.

And that paled by comparison to when, upon the conclusion of this year’s Oscars telecast, I got to tell her the producers, Al and David, are dedicating the movie to her.

Way cool…

Here’s the problem. I sit here, and my head’s a jumble of things I want to say. When it gets right down to it, though, when I try to make my fingers move, suddenly all the words scatter to the winds.

I guess what I can say is this: we’re back.

I’ve told several people over the past few days, I haven’t made many great decisions in my life. Deciding to take my kids on a little vacation to Orlando, Florida a couple of days after their mom’s funeral, however, was definitely one of them. The sun and the water and the anonymity—spiced with liberal amounts of Mickey Mouse and a dash of Universal Studios—was just what the doctor ordered.

Of course, like all things that end well, it didn’t start out that way.

When we landed in Orlando, it was anything but paradise. 45 degrees—a scant five degrees warmer than Minnesota the day before we left! And then there was the rain.

Beat, beat, beat went the windshield wipers as we groped our way through the town, searching for our resort. The map, courtesy of the rental car company, left much to be desired. Or perhaps it was just the town. In the end, we were never quite sure why (and quite surprised that) both the roads and the maps of the Orlando area sucked as badly as they did.

Finally, as I took a swipe at the fog on the glass in front of me (one of those odd times when you needed the blower going to keep the fog off the windshield, but it consequently made things ungodly hot in the car, so you decide the fog is the lesser of two evils), I caught a glimpse of the resort entrance.

Uh…this doesn’t quite seem right, I thought.

Here we were, smack dab in the middle of the town of Kissimmee, which I can only (and charitably) describe as the armpit of the Orlando area. The traffic was fast and rowdy. Most owners of the nearby structures all seemed to be vying for some prize in the “who can have the most paint peeling off the sides of my building” contest. Yet, here it was—the resort that Travelocity assured me was going to provide my family the comfort and rest we so desperately needed and deserved.

I looked at Syd and Zach. They were trying to put a brave face on, but I could tell. Nothing about this time so far in Orlando was what they were hoping for. And though I tried to cheer them up by cracking silly jokes about the town and the rain and the gray gloom that engulfed us, I thought, who the hell could blame them for being disappointed? Crap, I was just proud of them that they were trying their best to keep a stiff upper lip about the whole mess.

Well, the gate, at least, didn’t look completely uninviting. So, I flipped on my turn signal, avoided an accident with some low-rider that decided to cut in front of me, and headed in.

The kids waited in the car while I went inside (nice enough place, I thought as I glanced around the lobby) to see about our room. It was about 1:30 in the afternoon.

“Sorry, Mr. True,” the girl at the front desk told me. “Your check in isn’t until four P.M. I can get you checked in, but your room isn’t, like, ready yet.”

Next thing I know, I launched myself over the counter and throttled her. Another reception girl and the desk manager tried to pull me off, tried to pry my cold, steel fingers off the girl’s throat, but—

Psych! Just kidding.

That’s merely what I WANTED to do at the moment. What I really did was…

I took a deep breath.

“Oh. Huh. Well, I guess we have a little time to burn then.”

“Uh…yeah,” she came back with. “If you give me your cell number, though, I can call you as soon as your room is ready. Would that work?”

Now I was sorry I ever wanted to kill her. Suddenly, I wanted to lean over and kiss her. The first positive sign since we’d arrived in the state.

“That would be terrific,” I told her as I jotted my number on a pad.

I gave the kids my little “good news, bad news” spiel upon returning to the car. By now, though, nothing could faze them. They simply nodded, their eyes blank and tired. We decided to kill time by having a nice sit-down lunch and making a stop at Le Target Boutique for a few provisions. And so we were off again.

“Well, look at it this way,” I said as we haltingly made our way down the street. “At least no one knows who we are here. Not a single soul here wants to give us a hug, and absolutely no one wants to tell us how sorry they are for our loss.”

Suddenly, a collective sigh of relief.

Then, in unison from both kids: “No kidding!”

“If I had to get a hug from one more person, I was going to go ballistic,” I said.

Sydney started to laugh. “Oh, my god! Me, too.”

“I mean, I appreciated people’s love and concern…a lot!”

“Yeah,” agreed Sydney.

“It gets to be too much,” Zach chimed in.

“Yeah,” Sydney agreed again.

And then, all of a sudden, it dawned on me. I looked in the rearview mirror, making eye contact with Zach.

“It’s like we were in the ZOMBIES!!! game.”

He thought about it for a second or two. Then he smiled wide. He got the joke.

“Oh, my gosh! Yeah. Except instead of trying to get to the helicopter pad, we were trying to get to the airport!”

“Yeah! But surrounding us, blocking our way to the plane..!”

“FUNERAL ZOMBIES!” Zach cried.

I extended my arms our in front of me, steering with my elbows. My eyes went dead. I summoned my best zombie voice.

“Condooooooooolencesssssss..!

The kids laughed. Real laughter. Finally.

Sydney stretched out her arms and chimed in, “Sympatheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..!”

And we all busted a gut. That is until I almost got us in a wreck with some grandpa in a Town Car. The spirit in the car, however, would not be dampened. We laughed all the way to Red Lobster.

—
I didn’t catch the call from the girl at the resort, but we decided to beat it back there around three o’clock just in case our room was ready.

When we arrived back at the place, and were pleasantly surprised. The place didn’t look half bad. The good vibe from the car ride and the lunch continued. And when we returned to the office, it was all “I just called you, Mr. True! Glad you got the message.”

She was so proud of herself, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I hadn’t gotten it (nor did I know yet I even HAD it).

“Thanks,” I said, still feeling bad I once wanted to choke the life outta her.

That feeling changed slightly, though, when she sent me over this other chick who was supposed to “orient me” with respect to facilities.

Her K-Mart business suit and permanent “fuck me” curls told me everything I needed to know about her. All she was missing was the chewing gum. Someone in management must have given her crap about that, so she kept it under her desktop for safe keeping till she went home every night.

For, though her supposed function was to “orient” me, what she really wanted to do was to sell me a timeshare. So, that’s what the catch was, eh? Lure you in with a decent price on a week’s rental, and then wham! Suddenly, you’re caught in their snare.

I trudged over to her desk. For me, at least, the mood was definitely broken. I braced myself.

I sat down, and it was all pleasantries and B.S. Immediately, she wanted to know what attractions we planned to visit because “if we attended a complimentary breakfast about vacation ownership, we could be eligible for a number of valuable discounts” and yada, yada, yada…

“Uh…I don’t know. We were kind of just going to…wing it.”

She stared at me like I was from Uranus. She opened up a file cabinet and started grabbing out papers. She was nonchalant, on autopilot.

“So…” she said, barely looking up to acknowledge the kids. “Where’s Mom?”

I stopped cold in my tracks. My eyes…I can’t imagine what she must have thought when, after hearing no response, she looked up and saw my eyes. Like saucers, I’m sure.

I faltered. I struggled, utterly shocked, with what to say.

I mean, I wasn’t offended. It was, simply, the last question I expected her to ask. And the whole allure of the place for us was that NO ONE knew what was going on! God, I asked in a silent prayer, please don’t let the condolence zombies invade this place. Please keep them away…for my kids. For me.

Ultimately, I decided that the best course of action was to tell her the truth. Heck, if anything, it would teach her to not ask stupid questions when a guy and his kids show up alone in their lobby (for all she knew, I had just gotten over a bitter divorce or something! How would I react then? In Syd’s words, it would be all, “What now?!?” Pull you head out of your ass, deary).

“Ummm…” started, trying to maintain an even tone. “She…died last week.”

Now it was her turn to do the eyes thing. To say she got it like a ton of bricks falling on her head is an understatement. To say she was suddenly falling all over herself in apology is an understatement. To say she learned her lesson, I also hope, is an understatement.

“I…uh… I am sooooo sorry. I-“

Now I felt bad for feeling ill will toward her. Her eyes welled up. She was—perhaps for the first time ever on this job—fully present and in the moment. We were beyond the cheap suit and the curls and the sales pitch. Suddenly, we were just two people trying to get through the moment with a shred of dignity.

And I felt her pain.

“It’s okay,” I said in an assuring voice. Then I lied…for her sake. “It was a reasonable question.”

She let out a big breath and went limp, deflated.

“I guess I’ll…be more careful about…”

I just smiled.

Then she looked at my kids. Really looked, for the first time.

“You’re children…how old?”

“Sixteen and eleven.”

“How are they doing?”

“Everyone’s doing well. The funeral was Monday. And this is our healing time.”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

And then she surprised me. Here was this…cardboard cutout of a person. But she looked at me again, and that was gone. Now she was a fathomless sea of feeling and empathy. Stripped of her artifice (and my reaction to it), she was an open book. I could read her past. I could see her soul. And I liked her immediately.

“Your children are beautiful,” she said to me. Plain and simple, no artificial flavors or colors.

I smiled. Plain and simple.

“Thanks.”

Then I winked at her.

“And we’re not here to forget about her, but we’d like to not draw attention to it, either. We’re here to have fun. Can you help us with that?”

She got back to business. Yet, now it was anything but business as usual.

“You bet I can.”

—

The rain, of course, wouldn’t let up for the rest of the day. We got in our room, loaded up with brochures and coupons from our friend in the lobby. It was pretty nice, we thought. And if the rest of the joint was as nice as the room (it was impossible to judge in the downpour), we’d be just fine.

That night, we baked up a couple of pizzas, popped popcorn, and re-enacted our miraculous escape care of the ZOMBIES!!! game I’d packed. Predictably, Zach got to the helicopter first, while Syd and I were wandering around the town trying to even FIND zombies to slay.

And though there were laughs, we all felt it. Like a crater, an unnatural void chunked out of the earth. No…like one of your limbs amputated, but you can still feel it. Phantom feeling, I believe they call it.

Something was missing. There was supposed to be another piece—a fourth—on the board. And another cup, and another hand in the popcorn bowl. And there was supposed to be more laughter, courtesy of our Lynnie’s amazing hee-haw guffaw.

But what else could we do, but keep heading for the helicopter, right? Get out of town, and get on with the next chapter. And live our lives.

It’s all we could do. And it’s what she wanted. To do anything else, we all knew, was to dishonor her memory and to disrespect ourselves.

So…as the game progressed, we began to fill in the awkward silences where Lynn’s dialogue was once inserted. A few times we even gave them voice in her honor. Or we improvised, trying to write some new lines for ourselves. After awhile, it got a little easier.

—

When it was finally time to go to bed, the kids lay down without event. In five minutes, Zach was sawing logs like a champ.

I dreaded climbing into bed alone. Again, though, I told myself, what else can I do?

“It is what it is,” Lynn said to me, though it was my voice in the room. I smiled a little, and somewhere, with my mind’s eye, I saw her smile back, encouraging, loving.

And so I got under the covers.

As I lay there staring at the ceiling, Sydney padded into the room and slipped in beside me.

“What’s up, kiddo?” I whispered, removing my headphones and turning off my iPod.

My baby girl cuddled up against me, holding on for dear life.

“I was doing…okay, I guess. And lunch and the game were both fun. But…”

“It’s not the same, is it?”

She held on even tighter.

“I really miss her.”

Now it was my turn to hold on. Brace myself, really, because it wouldn’t do for me to completely break down at this particular moment. I blinked away tears and coughed, masking the sob that had caught in my throat.

“I know. I do, too.”

“And with this rain,” she continued. “And the cold, and everything. It’s kind of…depressing, you know? And I was just laying there in my bed and missing Mom, and wondering whether this whole vacation thing was a good idea after all.”

Silence. What could I do but agree?

Finally, I said, “Tell you what. Let’s see how tomorrow goes. It it’s still raining and yucky, we’ll see how we feel. If it’s not looking good, we can always either head home…or—we have this car—we can head somewhere else. Maybe Miami…or the Keys.”

“Really?”

“You bet. This is our time, kiddo,” I told her, not really knowing how I was going to pay for a week in Miami or the Keys, but meaning every word of it. “We get to do whatever we want to do. Whatever helps the healing.”

She relaxed. Then she hugged me again.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“But…make a deal?”

“Yeah?”

“If we wake up tomorrow and it’s nice and sunny, we take that as a sign. It’s a message from Mamma that we made the right decision, and she wants us to have a blast here.”

She didn’t miss a beat.

“Deal.”

I squeezed her back.

“Okay. Now let’s get some shut-eye.”

And that’s how we fell asleep.

—

We awoke the next morning to sunshine streaming through the blinds. We threw open the curtains and bid salutations to the best, most perfect and cloudless day we three had ever met.

Thus began Book Two of the True Family Chronicles.

———-

If you’re still reading, thanks for bearing with me. Hell, if I get this longwinded when I DON’T know what to write..!

Anyway, I want to say thank you to everyone who made this trip possible. You know who you are. We love you.

1963 – 2005

Please celebrate with us. Our angel has flown to Heaven.

We love you, sweetie. We’ll miss you.

We’ll see you again someday.
We’ve been home for a couple of hours now. What can I say?

Lynn’s passing was just like her: beautiful, celebratory, classy. It may seem strange, but upon reflection, I can honestly say I had fun. Yes, there were plenty of tears. Not as many, though, as one would expect. Instead, the day was filled with plenty of laughter and awesome stories and reflections about my girl. It was loud and boisterous and touching and poignant.

And I think she enjoyed it. My husband Spidey sense was going off big time, and I could tell that, even though she really couldn’t respond, she was having a good time. Then, about 8:00-ish, when she was ready to quiet down, she let me know that, too. And so…we quieted down.

And we snuggled a little. And we talked. And then around midnight, I had to catch at least a little shut-eye. Her mom and her sister were resting, sleeping with their heads on Lynn’s hospital bed, and I went out into the waiting room to lie down. And about an hour later, our sweet angel gently slipped out the door and hitched a ride on a moonbeam. So like her.

We’re doing okay. The kids are well–in a good space. They got a chance to say good-bye to Mom, and Mom to them. And I got a chance to give my beautiful wife the end she so deserved.

I got home, and Zach was asleep. I’m not going to wake him. He knows it was going to happen tonight, so let him rest.

Syd was awake, though, and we had a good moment. She cried, as I did, but in the end we both agreed that now it’s time for the healing to begin. And so it shall.

Please keep posted to this page for details regarding Lynn’s funeral services, and other related things. In the meantime, hug your families tight to your breast. Love them as we’ve loved our mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend.

Goodnight, sweet darling. Enjoy the loving embrace of those whom you love that passed before you. Say hello to my Grandpa True for me, and tell him I love him. Be comforted, gently cradled in the arms of our Lord. You have earned a well-deserved rest.

I leave you now with these exquisite words from Sarah McLachlan. I played this song over and over again in the car on the way home from the hospital earlier. And I cried. And I remembered. And I smiled. It really says it all…

If it takes my whole life

I won’t break, I won’t bend

It will all be worth it

Worth it in the end

‘Cause I can only tell you what I know

That I need you in my life

And when the stars have all burned out

You’ll still be burning so bright

 

Cast me gently

Into morning

For the night has been unkind

Today was a difficult day.

We met with Lynn’s oncologist this afternoon. There we got the official word that the chemo hasn’t worked, and they’ve run out of any meaningful tools to fight the cancer further. It has, as you imagine, spread extensively through her liver, and the prospects are, quite simply, not favorable. We all understand–and accept–that it just isn’t going to go our way this time.

As such, we are beginning home hospice care tomorrow. We will set up a hospital bed in our living room and begin to have regular visits by a home hospice nurse. The objective in this case is to provide Lynn some level of comfort as this chapter in our lives comes to a close.

At this point, it is difficult to provide any time frames. I am guessing we will understand more once we get the visit from the hospice nurse tomorrow. In looking at the information they provided us, though, and in talking today to both the hospice nurse and Lynn’s oncology nurse, it looks (by way of Lynn’s current symptoms) that we’re solidly in the 1-2 weeks column.

Based on that, I am going to go ahead and suspend the visitation calendar concept. Instead, I will simply post on this web site days where Lynn is able to accept visitors. If we’ve already agreed to a day and time next week, please feel free to still stop by. Right now, however, I am reserving the bulk of next week for Lynn’s brothers and sisters who are coming in from out of town to see her.

Also, I want to make certain that Zach and Sydney get to spend plenty of time with their mom. That means on days when she CAN accept visitors, I would like to limit the times to 9 am to 3 pm. I am going to pretty much reserve the evenings for family time.

I know this is hard news to read. Know, though, that we’re okay…hanging in there. We’ve shed plenty of tears, yes. But mostly, we’re celebrating.

I will share with you now what I’ve shared so many times over the past days and weeks… The True Family–we’re not humanists. We believe that–regardless of what a particular individual might call it–it’s Paradise on the other side. And we believe we’ll see our beloved wife and mom again someday. We only cry now because we’ll miss her…for now.

Yet, when all is said and done, my beautiful wife’s beautiful and amazing life is one to be celebrated. Time and time again I get testimonials from people about how Lynn’s courage and example have transformed their lives. That their lives are better for having known her. Dozens of ’em! Hundreds! How many people who live on this earth twice as long can claim that?

I’ve always said that my wife exists on another plane. And I don’t mean that as in insult! I’ve also thought (and said) that she’s an angel trapped in human form. Though I weep, I know–REALLY KNOW–that nothing as beautiful as her can remain tethered to this mortal coil for too long. It is, plain and simple, not the way of things.

I know that she is needed elsewhere, to bestow her blessings and peace on someone else who needs her more than we do. And so, for me, all I can do is stand here in awe of her and feel like the luckiest guy in the world that I got to spend 19 wonderful years with her. And that I get to live on with her in the form of the two beautiful children that we made and raised together.

And, of course, I believe that she will continue to be here, as our very own guardian angel, looking over us as we continue to live on in this world.

So…cry if you need. It’s okay. We’re doing it, too. But please…PLEASE! Don’t despair. I ask you now to join my family and me in celebration. For soon my Lynn will hurt no more, and her work here will be done. Soon she’ll be with God in Paradise. And this old world? It will be be much better for her having been here.

All our love,
Bill, Lynn, Sydney, and Zachary

NOTE TO ALL TRUE LIFERS — I owe all of you an apology for my long and unexplained absence. That is, however, for another day. Please read the following letter I sent out to about a bijillion people earlier today. I promise that my posting will resume now…and new and improved, I hope.

Take care… B

—-

Dear Family & Friends,

I apologize for using the mass medium of e-mail to communicate with all of you. Several folks have inquired about Lynn’s condition and the condition of the family overall, and this seems like the best tool to let everyone know what’s going on with us.

For those of you who haven’t heard, Lynn’s cancer returned again last November. The bad news (first) is that it returned with a vengeance. It is very aggressive this time, and has had her more or less down since the latter part of December. She has experienced a lot of pain and discomfort from the cancer in and around her liver, particularly as a result of her live becoming enlarged as well as the constant gathering of fluid in her abdomen and pleura. She also gets tired very easily. When she’s not qi gonging, she’s probably napping.

Her doctors have been able to start her (and, more importantly) keep her on a new type of chemotherapy over the past month-and-a-half. This has, if anything, stabilized her condition some and provided her some relief.

On the side of being realistic, however, they also know that this chemo isn’t a cure. Their goal now is to buy as much time as possible without making that time a living hell for Lynn, that is, balancing quantity with quality. Their take is, as you can imagine, that we are pretty far down the continuum. Her doctors know that they are running out of tools in their tool chest.

But enough of that…for the good news!

The good news is that—have you met my wife?!?

Lynn inextinguishable hope and spirit remains alive and well. I learned a long time ago never to count her out, as she is the epitome of the saying “it ain’t over till it’s over.” And though we know the cards we’re holding aren’t the best hand, Lynn is still is determined to play it out.

So that’s what we’re going to do. We are presently exploring a couple of other options for wellness, and hopefully they will pan out. We’ll see. For now, we’re taking things day by day.

That said, things are generally okay at the True household. Obviously, it has been a very stressful past few months. Lynn, however, has managed to maintain a terrific and winning attitude, despite the obstacles put before her. The kids, Sydney and Zachary, continue to weather the storm with grace and class. They are really quite amazing, in fact. Though we know we’re in for an increasingly rougher ride, we’re all hanging in there. We’re living each day according to our family motto: “The Trues bend, but they don’t break.”

Throughout this journey, we’ve been tremendously blessed to have a wonderful community of friends and family around us. I hope all of you realize how much your support has sustained us, especially in the past year-and-a-half. I can honestly say that we wouldn’t have made it this far without you, and for that we are eternally grateful.

As a result of your efforts, miracles—the real life kind—have popped up everywhere. Lynn got to China in November of 2003. We had a terrific 2004, where Lynn enjoyed a great spell of good health and our family some of the best family time we’ve ever had. Our kids have been happy and healthy, and I was able to spend much of the summer in New York working on realizing my dream as the movie based on my screenplay, RUNAWAY, wrapped shooting in late September.

I mean…wow..! Sometimes, when I think about it too much, I get overwhelmed. Mostly, however, in these turbulent times, when I am tempted to feel like there’s little hope for our world, I simply remember the outpouring of love and support all of you have shown to our family, and I realize that love and care and compassion truly exist. And it is then in that realization that my faith in humanity is buoyed.

Anyway…enough of my maudlin prattle. Then again, you know me. I simply wanted to say thank you.

On top of that, several of you have been asking what they can do to help. For a change, I thought that I should get a little organized, myself, because it turns out right now there is quite a lot folks can do. Therefore, I thought that I would get my act together and get organized (for a change), and actually tell people what we need for a change, as opposed to leaving it all to guesswork.

So, here goes…

1.) TUESDAY NIGHT MEALS & “LYNNIE-SITTING” – In the spirit of “sure, Bill can heap that onto his plate, too!” I am taking a couple of classes at the University of MN. Before Lynn got sick again, we realized that I had a unique space of time—before the movie comes out and (hopefully) I become a busy screenwriting beaver—where I might get those last two pesky classes out of my way and—don’t faint!—get my bachelor’s degree.

My TUESDAY class runs from 4:00 PM to 9:00 PM, and I need someone each of these nights to bring over a meal, take Zach to his basketball games (which run for about an hour), and generally sit with Lynn to make certain she’s okay.

I also have class on MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, and FRIDAY afternoons. I need to be gone for this class between 1:00 PM and 4:00-5:00 PM. During these times, I need someone to be here, make lunch for Lynn, and sit with her.

If you think that you might be able to help out with this a time or two, I will post a link to a calendar on Lynn’s CaringBridge website page. Take a look at the calendar. If you think you can help out on a particular day, send me an e-mail at wtrue@mn.rr.com). If you could, please put the words HELPING LYNN in the subject line, so I can keep these messages out of the ocean of other ones sloshing around in my inbox.

2.) LYNN’S SUPPLEMENTS – A lot of people have asked whether we could use some financial help. We’re generally doing okay. Until that “Standard Rich & Famous Contract” comes my way, though, we currently don’t have a lot of wiggle room each month.

On of the things that Lynn feels has helped here a lot is a set of supplements from a company called Mannatech. That’s the good news. The not-so-good news is that these supplements set us back over $400 each month.

Apparently, folks can go on the Mannatech website and donate funds toward a particular customer’s account. Lynn & I will be completing whatever set up we need to in order to make this available for anyone who wants to help out in this way. We will try to have a link to this page on Lynn’s CaringBridge website on or before Tuesday, the 15th.

If you are interested in doing this, but don’t see the link on Lynn’s CaringBridge website, send me an email at wtrue@mn.rr.com with the words SUPPLEMENTS FOR LYNN in the subject line. I will e-mail you back the link as soon as we get everything set up on the Mannatech website.

3.) MEALS – You betcha! Every day I don’t have to cook is a good day! Actually, those of you who know me know that I love to cook, but right now it get a little strenuous to do it every night AND attempt to get everything else done, too.

If you think you might like to drop a meal over sometime, feel free! I will note the nights we could use meals on the calendar on Lynn’s CaringBridge website. Simply send me an e-mail at wtrue@mn.rr.com with the words MEALS FOR LYNN on the subject line.

3.) DONATE TO THE 3DAY – I am VERY touched and proud to say the TEAM TRUE LOVE walking club, which was named in honor of Lynn, raised nearly $40,000 last year to help in the fight against breast cancer! Well, we’re doin’ it again this year, too.

Please go to my fundraising page at to make a donation or—better yet!—join us on the walk in June! The team has already raised $3,000, but we still have a long way to go. PLEASE donate generously to this cause, so we can wipe out this disease and save other families from the havoc it wreaks on their lives.

4.) PRAY – Please keep Lynn in your prayers. Believe me when I say that we have felt the power of all they prayers and good vibrations sent our way from all over the world. Even more important, pray for peace and understanding and tolerance and healing in the world, for that is what Lynn is dedicated to. You can help her mission by talking to the man up stairs about it.

5.) VISIT LYNN – If you haven’t had a chance to see Lynn in a while, she would love it if you stopped over sometime. Each day or so, we will be posting when it’s a good day or a not-so-good day to stop by.

If you think you might like to pay us a little visit, it would be great if you could give me a heads up at wtrue@mn.rr.com and put VISITING LYNN in the subject line. That way, I can make certain everyone gets a chance to see her while not overwhelming her with visitors on any given day.

From here on out, we will be keeping Lynn’s CaringBridge website updated on a daily (or every other day) basis. Keep checking in for up-to-date information about Lynn’s condition and for information about other stuff that might help us out as we make our way through this time.

Again…thank you to you all! We love you, and we wish you all peace and happiness.

Take care, and God bless,

Bill, Lynn, Sydney, and Zachary
(…and Elvis, Minnie, and Hunter, too!)

Our first press! Here’s an excerpt from the article:

Written by first time screenwriter Bill True and directed by Tim McCann (“Revolution #9,” “Nowhere Man”), the project is financed through Alan Klingenstein’s Filbert Steps Productions. After developing the project with True for a year they approached McCann with the project, believing he could handle the film’s dark subject matter. “Tim is really fantastic about directing actors in situations that involve emotional distress and he struck us as somebody who could do a very good job with the material,” says Klingenstein.

This marks the third project for the New York-based production company who’ve been quiet since 2000’s “Two Family House.” “It was all about finding material that was cast worthy,” says Klingenstein about the hiatus. “We read a lot of scripts and this was the first script since ‘Two Family House’ that has jumped out at us.”

Check out indieWIRE (our new favorite cinema news source in the Internet) to read the entire article.

Look! We’re the featured photo on the indieWire production page!

One thing I know is I’ve been for crap on finishing up captions for the RUNAWAY: Production photos. Sorry about that. And I’ve been equally derelict in documenting the experience of getting the movie made.

This, however, might make up for it a little.

I finally sent off the EPK tapes to Filbert Steps today. It was high time. Now that my masterpiece, The Great Friar Tuck Flood, is complete, I have no further need for the things. Let the New Yorkers have them.

I was going through the tapes last night and today, though, and I came across this. I forgot it was even captured. It’s right before I was going to interview Aaron for the EPK. Justin Remer had the XL-1 rolling, and the little scamp suddenly turned it on me as I was taking a moment to just breathe.

It was about 5 pm, I was running on no more than eight hours of sleep over the past three to four days, and I was feeling more than a little verklempt over the fast-approaching end to my RUNAWAY production adventure. Within hours, I would write my “It’s a wrap” post. Within a couple more hours, I would have the “significant emotional episode” I talk about in the video. But that, of course, is a story in itself. More infamous than famous, and will be mercifully left, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, decaying along the side of the road, a distant speck on the horizon as I glance over my shoulder.

Anyway, so this is a little clip (a little over a minute) of me talking about the last day of filming. I am certain it will never make it on any “making of video”, but it seems appropriate here. ‘Cause it speaks to my personal experience more vividly and more real than I could ever put into words.

So…here it is, folks. You know the drill. Click on the link, get some cheese.

Dear TRUE LIFERS,

Think your host is a blog slacker? Tired of the same old depressive rambling…on and on and on and on..? Have you found yourself asking, “When will this TRUE LIFE thing get good? Really good?”

Ah…the answer to that question may be closer than you think! Of course, we have strived toward the progressive in the past, posting links to impressive audio masterpieces composed and performed (with the help of GarageBand) by yours TRUE-ly.

Today, however, this little thing we like to call TRUE LIFE moves beyond the written word. Soars, as Pegasus, leaving mere audio faltering in its wake, the beating of its mighty wings. Yes! Yes…today, TRUE LIFE goes…

Multimedia!

I know, I know..! I know what you’re all saying. You’re saying, “What the hell are you talking about, TRUE?!?”

Huh-wha-?

Oh…er…well…

Okay, I’m certain none of you noticed, but I have been in a bit of a funk over the past few days. Yeah..! No kidding! I know….I hide it well.

Anyway, there are 100 things I SHOULD have done last night, but only one thing I wanted to do. That thing was to FINALLY start sifting through the DV footage that I (and others) shot during the RUNAWAY production, ostensibly for what the industry calls an EPK (Elecronic Press Kit). We mortals know them as “behind the scenes” thingys.

See, I am, like, a MONTH late in getting the tapes (I had them in my backpack, and they stowed away to Minnesota when I came home) back to Filbert Steps. Partly, this is because things have been a bit crazy (as you know)…dry-walling, sick, LA, cancer. You know, the usual. Partly, though, it’s because I haven’t wanted to send them off until I had a chance to take a look at the tapes, perhaps even upload them onto a hard drive and take me own stab at editing them in my copious freetime.

So…last night, Lynn and the kids were at church. I was all alone at home. AND…because I was a superstar cleaner on Tuesday, our office is now spic-n-span, quite the enjoyable place to bide one’s time, as a matter of fact. And that’s what I decided to do.

There I am, sittin’. I play a round of Klondike. Yawn..! Then I click on Safari, thinking I might do a little Internet surfing. …Like I never do THAT! Then I turned and saw the little stack of DV tapes sitting on the shelf behind me. OF COURSE!!!

I grabbed them, shuffling them greedily. I coveted each individual tape, as a pirate fawns over buried treasure that was long lost, now found.

“But there’s one problem,” I told Elvis (the dog). He pricked up his ears and wagged his tail, as if he really cared what I was saying. “There is 16 hours of footage here. I’ve got, like…” I checked the clock. “…Two.”

And there was one other problem, in the form of a little affliction we suffer from around here called NOT ENOUGH HARD DRIVE SPACE! Damned frugality! I shoulda gone for the 80GB hard drive when I bought this darn iMac. But nooOOOoooOOoooo…!

Finally, I came upon one particular tape. It was titled simply: “Flood”.

Ah ha! I almost forgot! My little “documentary” footage about last day of shooting, when the Friar Tuck (the place we were staying) got flooded to high heaven from heavy rains the night before. Of course! I really wanted to edit that together into…something. Why not start tonight? See how far I get.

That was 7:30 pm. Lynn finally got up and grumbled at me to go to bed at…er…well…4:30. …am.

All that said, if you wanna see the fruits of my nine hours of labor, here they are. The movie, which lasts about 6:20, is part one of the saga. I think there is about another 5-6 minutes worth of material I can cull from the remaining footage, but I pretty much just ran out of time. Well, also considering that the whole enchilada would have eaten up about 100MB of storage, I think it was best to break them up, anyway. No one would ever be able to download the thing.

I warn you…it’s kinda dumb. And I threw it all together very quickly and on the fly. And in iMovie, to boot! How consumer software user of me. Yet, hopefully you still get a kick out of it. If I have time this weekend (famous last words), I will try to get the rest of it done. Would be nice to just have it done.

And…of course, it helped lift me out of my funk. Funny how these little projects do that for a guy.

NOTES ABOUT THE FILE: I didn’t know how to do streaming, so be prepared. You’re gonna be downloading the thing. It’s 33MB, so unless you have broadband, I would ease up on your clicker finger. It’s a Quicktime file, so you’ll need that, too. Other than that…enjoy!

Yours TRUE-ly,

It wasn’t that the world pressed down on him like a weight. To say that would imply it was a passive thing, some lifeless mass. To say that would imply it was simply a slave to gravity, and that it pressed as a result of some blind attraction to the earth below.

For him, it was a very active, very alive thing. The World…with a capital “W”. And everything that was the World gathered together and formed a massive hand that extended down from Heaven. Then it wrapped its fingers around his skull, holding it in its formidable palm. And finally, at times that the World seemed to derive the most perverse joy, it would press down. And squeeze.

“I’m always in control,” the World was saying. “Always have you in the palm of my hand. And I call the shots.”

It was the stuff migraines were made of. But, in fact, it was worse, far worse than that. A migraine would have been a happy relief. In the worst of these incidents, he was brought to his knees.

Inward, the massive fingers would flex, pinching, digging into his scalp. He could feel the pressure building. Hear the blood pounding in his ears, trying to flee his skull. Boom! Boom! Boom! Like a telegraph, a message to the rest of his body. Get ready!

No…not quite like that. It was more sinister. It was an omen. From the World. An impish messenger, announcing the coming of more pressing. It was prophesy…a sign of more bad times to come.

Yes. That’s what he was feeling today. He combed his fingers repeatedly through his hair, trying to find the fingers that belonged to the World. He felt around as if they were some corporeal things, like he could touch them, like he could pry loose their grip from his scalp, if only he could find them.

He had enjoyed no such luck yet. And with no ibuprofen, no aspirin–nothing with a sufficient alcoholic content to smooth it out and take the edge off the pain, he had no choice but to continue searching with his fingers. Keep on probing, keep massaging…and praying.

—

From a short story I never finished. Can’t even remember what the story was supposed to be about. Just liked this beginning.

Not certain why I posted it here today. Feeling a little ebby. Or is that “flow-y”?

A series of emails between my good friend, Dean, and me:

From: dean
Subject: sup
Date: November 11, 2004 12:33:16 PM CST
To: bill

dean

To which I replied:

From: bill
Subject: Re: sup
Date: November 12, 2004 9:02:54 AM CST
To: dean

Hey, man! I got mosta yer stuff, but I haven’t had time to finalize. Still in LA till tonight. Then home and into sanity. Will finish this weekend and send to you.

Strange week. Mostly good. Bad news, though, in that Lynn’s cancer has returned–to liver and bones. no REALLY big change in course as of yet, just a disappointment for us.

Anyway…we’ll chat when I get back to THE OTHER SIDE.

Later…

And then he wrote:

Oh my God, Bill. I am so very sorry to hear that. If there’s anything the Hyers family can do… i.e. dinner, hang out, clean your house, serve as a distraction, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., let us know. That so sucks. Standing by for whatever. Hard to even think about, let alone value, movie stuff with a specter like that is lurking about.

Tell me how I/we can help.

Dean

And then my turn…

Or…one might say that movie stuff is the savior right now. So…I value it.

We decided that I would not return to MN early, as an indicator of how we’re NOT letting this get to us. So…all I say is thanks…I WILL let you know what you can do…but right now it’s to stay strong with us and keep going in life without a sideways glance. ‘Cause that’s what we’re doing. It’s a mere bump in the road–not even a speed bump yet–and we’re treating it as such.

All that said…we’ll talk when I get back. I look forward to going over the compiling of story I’ve been able to muster.

Later…

Dean:

COUNT ME IN! I’m on your page with the plan for life and living. When I first got your email, I had to sit down and stop everything for a moment. Then, on the radio was this song…

Chumbawamba’s, “Tubthumping”
Lyrics:
I get knocked down
but I get up again
your never gonna keep me down

And then I was ready to join you and Lynn in your strategy. It really is the right one. So count me in and I will align my spiritual vibes with that outcome. I learned from a Native American (second hand, anyway) of a form of prayer where you simply FEEL THE FEELING of the outcome you desire – feel the feelings you would have if the desired outcome already existed, and visualize it. It’s believed to be the “prayer” way of opening the doorway to the possibility you desire. This particular tribe believes in this over the begging to God style prayer most of us grew up with, which is focusing on the doorway to the possibility you DON’T want, as opposed to focusing (and manifesting) the possibility you DO want.

Anyway, that’s what I’ll be proudly and confidently doing.

Keep rockin’!

Dean

Finally…

From: bill
Subject: I need to tell you…
Date: November 12, 2004 7:46:09 PM CST
To: dean

I love you, my friend.

This song…this gift. Made my FUCKING WEEK!

It’s my new theme song. It’s me…

Thanks for being in my life. For being a first class friend. For being a gentleman and a scholar.

I have learned sooOoOoOo much this week and made some really cool connections. I look forward to uploading to the Dean Machine sometime next week, okay?

My favorite part…

He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink

He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times

Don’t cry for me
Next door neighbour

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never going to keep me down

So…there you have it, TRUE LIFERS. You know as much as I do.

As I write this, I am sitting at the LA airport and waiting for my red-eye flight, which is scheduled to depart from Gate 22 sometime before the next ice age or fair and tamper-free US presidential election, which ever comes first. 😉

Anyway…I bring this up because at this moment, I am struck by this image…

It’s me…waiting. In a holding pattern for now–a momentary respite. Yet, soon, I will once again be rushing headling through space at break-neck speeds toward home. It is my physical, it is my emotional, it is my spiritual, it is my metaphysical. It is my reality.

…And what am I doing right now? I’m writing.

You know what? For the first time in my life—come what may (and believe me, it feels a little strange to say this, considering the news)–it feels pretty cool.

Our lives, the tides, the world. It will ebb and flow as it sees fit. I am content to let it do so. Yet, every day I will gently nudge it, reminding it, “I have other plans, my friend.”

And so…though it was not my intended purpose for the bird against sun picture in my last post, I guess I was right. It really was about this, my next post.