Big bark, no bite: Long-time chainsaw artists yap on love of dogs, sculpture

Lindsey  Treffry | Inland360

Toby is an abnormally sized beagle. 12 feet tall, to be exact. And for a while, he traveled. Three-thousand miles on a trailer, actually. People would travel miles to visit him, too — to see him sit outside Dog Bark Park.

Nearly 20 years later, Toby is surprisingly old for a dog of his stature. But not as big as the 30-foot-tall dog, Sweet Willy, who has overshadowed Toby for years, making him look like a mere puppy.

Frances Conklin consults Dennis Sullivan
about a carved dog in their Dog Bark Park shop.

Toby and Sweet Willy are just two of thousands of creations made by Dennis Sullivan and Frances Conklin, chainsaw artists and owners of Dog Bark Park and Inn in Cottonwood, Idaho.

Sullivan, 71, was a building contractor for 24 years and wanted to change careers. So, he started by hand carving wood with a knife and then moved onto using saws and chainsaws.

“I didn’t have any strong feelings to carve bears,” he said. “I wanted to separate myself.”

Sullivan likes dogs a lot, he said, and by 1985 he started carving dogs full-time. In 1995, he met Conklin at an art show, where she was showing some of her sewn work, the stars aligned and they fell in love.

“Running a sewing machine isn’t that different from chainsaw. Something is whirring around faster than you can see it,” Conklin said. “You learn to keep things away from it.”

Conklin said she did have to build a bit more muscle, but Sullivan said together, they’ve created approximately 35,000 pieces total — the sellable sizes at least.

Your basic dog begins with a log and a variety of different sized chainsaws. The most popular wood they use is Ponderosa pine.

“I tell people it starts with Ponderosa pine, but quickly turns to dogwood,” Sullivan joked.

They cut the pine log down to the appropriate size — a small or large dog. Small dogs are roughly 8 by 10 inches and 2 1/2 inches thick. Good for a desktop size, he said. Large dogs, not near the scale of Toby, are 6 inches thick and, depending on the breed, can range from 16 to 20 inches tall by 16 to 24 inches long.

Conklin specializes in the painting, because, Sullivan said, she has an artistic, light touch and paints to reflect the breed. Popular sellers include the beagle, Labrador retriever, Bernese Mountain dog and the golden retriever.

Each dog gets a brass license tag and a red cowboy bandana around their neck.

Other Dog Park Bark sculptures include, but are never limited to, concrete alphabet blocks, a totem pole, a carved wooden car, a 12-foot tall coffee pot, in which Sullivan hopes to house a coffee pot museum, and a toaster, which is 45 feet long, complete with a wooden plug and fake electrical port. The hard, wooden toast is removable.

“I leave it to others to determine if it’s art,” Sullivan said. “But it is sculpture.”
Sullivan said he never tires of it. And with all his fame, just maybe, neither does Toby.

-If you go
WHAT: Dog Bark Park and Inn Bed & Breakfast
WHERE: 2421 Business Highway 95, Cottonwood, Idaho
WHEN: 11 a.m. – 4 p.m. Monday through Sunday
COST: $98 per night double occupancy. Includes breakfast. $10 per additional person. Single occupancy is $92. Dog chainsaw sculpture prices range from $49 to $124 and can be purchased in person or at www.dogbarkparkinn.com/giftshop.

As seen in May 23 issue of Inland360.

From ruins to retirement: University of Idaho professor retires after 40 years

Lindsey Treffry | Inland360

David Giese has traveled in time. After 40 years of teaching — 36 at the University of Idaho — the man who creates ancient Roman ruins and discovers mythical monuments has finally decided to retire.

“It’s time to retire when you overhear your students having a conversation and you don’t know what the hell they’re talking about,” said Giese who plans to travel to Rome during its off-season.

Dean Hare | Inland360.com
David Giese stands with the grotto fountain
he built in his back yard for both personal enjoyment
and as an example of his work to prospective
clients on Monday, May 13, 2013, at his home in Moscow.

Giese claims to have discovered the remains of the fictitious Villa Bitricci, art pieces he created in the 1980s, while traveling in Northern Italy.

“I just thought of this kind of reconstructed version of history,” he said. “Because I tell these stories and incorporate real events, but I kind of twist them around so there’s a sense of humor about them.”

In Giese’s story, Villa Bitricci is the longest continuous private residence in Western civilization, where famous citizens and artists reside. Giese said the name, Villa Bitricci, came about when Dante’s mistress, Beatrice, was accused by an overzealous priest of being a witch and a harlot. She then fled Florence and sought sanctuary in the villa.

“And from that time forward it has always been called the Villa Bitricci,” Giese explained. “Bitricci is an endearment for Beatrice in the town.”

The pieces of Bitricci are composed of concrete, paint, flotage and mixed media. Giese said he usually starts by casting a flat, which takes two people. With the more recent help of his assistant, Noah Kroese, they create a wooden frame, staple on a propylene fiber, pour an expandable foam on the back of an open-mesh work and then stand on pieces of plywood wrapped in plastic.

“And so the foam expands and it creates the thickness, the depth of it, but it makes it quite lightweight. All of this decoration is kind of cast individually and then collaged onto the surface,” said Giese, who can create 10 pieces a year.

A one-person retrospective of Giese’s work is on display at the Prichard Art Gallery in downtown Moscow through Sunday.

“It covers quite an expansive range,” Kroese said. “People will be not only be blown away on the work itself, but the evolution of the work over the years.”

Kroese said the volume of Giese’s work is astounding as well, because of its quality.

“He’s been making art regularly the entire time he’s been at the University,” he said. “You’re looking at a history of history. I’ve never seen work like David’s anywhere else.”

A reception will conclude the Prichard Art Gallery retrospective 5-8 p.m. Friday, while a retirement soirée will take place 8-11 p.m. Saturday in the UI SUB Ballroom.

While Giese said he’s well known for throwing great parties — such as the dinner parties he’s hosted in his Italian-inspired home of 15 years — the UI celebration may be the biggest this year.

“This year I haven’t done as much because I’ve been so focused on this endowment and ready to retire and all that,” he said.

As a retirement gift to the university, Giese created an endowed fellowship to support the costs of bringing visiting artists to campus to work with classes.

“The only criteria is the individual’s work must be interdisciplinary by nature,” he said.

The soirée will host live and silent auctions on Giese’s bowling shoes, glasses, hand-made and salvaged office furniture and a T-shirt that reads, “Is there life after Giese?” Four pieces of his office artwork will be raffled for $20 per ticket. A video will feature past students and faculty members, who submitted video, pictures or anecdotes for the event. Wine and beer will be served and a separate room is available for dancing.

“As impressive as David’s work is, he’s such an individual and he was such a dynamic personality,” Kroese said. “He is just as impressive as his work.”

Despite his retirement, Giese will keep a studio on the UI campus.

“I consider myself extremely fortunate that I’ve loved my job and I think I feel really privileged to be part of a very important, critical phase in an individual’s life when you’re really dealing with the true formation of who you are,” Giese said. “And I take that responsibility very seriously.”

–
If you go:
WHAT: Gallery reception; Retirement soirée
WHEN: 5-8 p.m. Friday; 8-11 p.m. Saturday
WHERE: Prichard Art Gallery; University of Idaho SUB Ballroom
COST: All admissions are free.

As seen in May 16 issue of Inland360.

Drag 101: TabiKat drag queens, kings lay down stage statutes

Lindsey Treffry | Inland360

After more than 18 years of shows, the leaders of TabiKat Productions can tell you that performing in drag is more than just clothes, make-up and dance.

Kathy Sprague | Courtesy
Bill Pfister (Kathy Sprague) and Claudia Stubblemeyer pose
for a photo at a TabiKat Productions drag show.

Led by Kathy Sprague and Tabitha Simmons, the monthly performances in the area give drag queens, kings and faux performers a chance to get on stage and dress up (or down) to the nines.

But Sprague, also known as drag king Bill Pfister, said, “If you’re going to be an attitude problem, that usually doesn’t correct itself. That’s a lot harder to fix than walking better in heels.”

So, TabiKat is offering Drag 101 to give interested or “virgin” performers a chance to learn the ropes of basic drag etiquette and TabiKat house rules at 6:30 p.m. Sunday at the Moscow Moose Lodge.

Sprague will lay down some rules and regulations, along with tips and tricks to help new performers meet higher standards:

1. Be responsible and safe.
“Inappropriate behavior is the number one thing that will get you fired,” said Sprague, who notes that performers get paid. “It is a job.”

Only performers are allowed in the dressing room. Sprague said that increases their safety, protects belongings and keeps the temperature down in a small space.

Drag queen Aquasha DeLusty recommends the buddy system when going to and from shows.
“Don’t show up to the show alone,” DeLusty said.

Because alcohol is served to those over 21, Sprague said some attendees can get a bit rowdy. Bouncers and security staff are on hand.

“They will have your back,” Sprague said. “They will walk you to the car at the end of the night, so nobody jumps you, because sometimes that is an issue.”

Outside of shows, DeLusty suggested setting a good example for fans.

“Be smart about what you put out” on your Facebook page, DeLusty said.

2. Without music, there’s no show.
“Once you have been booked, once I give you the OK, you have to contact God,” Sprague said.
“God,” or Simmons, is in charge of all music.

“No matter how good you look in a dress, no matter how much you rehearsed, if we don’t have the music, you can’t perform,” Sprague said.

Sprague said music downloads must be purchased.

“If you love Cher so much that you want to do a number or perform Cher numbers, then she should get a chunk of that money,” Sprague said.

Simmons requires music files the Thursday before Saturday performances, to ensure sound quality and to prevent overlap.

“The audience is not paying cover for a show when they’re going to see the same song four times,” Sprague said. “That’s boring for them.”

DeLusty suggested different musical genres. A mix of hip hop, country and Broadway is better than being a Hip Hop Queen, DeLusty said.

“You are going to find that you actually like doing other things,“ DeLusty said. “Because I was like, ‘Oh god, I’ll never do country. I can’t stand country,’ and it’s actually one of the funnest show lists to do.”

3. Get the hair and makeup right.
Sprague is also co-owner of Safari Pearl and Eclectica, which houses costumes, wigs and stage makeup.

“At the Drag 101, I’ll break out the crepe hair and chop it up and let everybody play with it,” said Sprague, who generally sports a blond, reddish mustache with thick sideburns when dressing in drag.

Makeup kits will be available for those who want basic palettes, as long as they private message “Bill Pfister” on Facebook before the Sunday event.

4. Know your power.
Sprague said TabiKat is one of the few events in which those under 21 can take part.

“The first time I realized how much some of the kids in the community looked up to me, it’s terrifying,” Sprague said.

“The dance floor is the most interactive place that you want to be,” said DeLusty, adding that is where tips are made. “Focus on the kids.”

Sprague said their younger audience can be the most vulnerable members of the community and performers must set a good example.

“It’s like Spiderman. With great power, comes great responsibility,” Sprague said.”If you don’t respect that, and you’re not careful with it, you become the problem.”

5. Don’t be afraid.
Drag 101 may help the curious decide whether TabiKat drag is for them. If so, the rules must be followed, Sprague said, and if all goes well, TabiKat will have a few virgin performers.

“The one thing I can suggest is have fun on stage,” DeLusty said, “because if you’re having a blast doing your number, the audience will have a blast with you.”

Drag queen Claudia Stubblemeyer said virgins are put early in a set, because it’s nerve-racking to wait.

“Never look at the person before you,” DeLusty said. ”You’ll build your own following and your own way of performing.”

With more than 30 RSVPs so far, Sprague said most of the attendees are excited about becoming performers and the majority have never performed before.

“There are a couple of people who are attending, who actually have been performing for years, but have not gotten the rules,” she said. “This is the important part of it, because then we don’t have misunderstandings, and we don’t have absolute chaos backstage.”

Drag 101 is free for attendees who arrive on time and are well-prepared. Late arrivals will be charged $10 for the class.

If hired, some virgins will perform at TabiKat’s June 22 show at Moscow Moose Lodge. The next drag show will take place on May 25 at T’z in Lewiston.
–
If you go:
WHAT: TabiKat Drag 101
WHEN: 6:30-9:30 p.m.
WHERE: Moscow Moose Lodge
COST: Free, $10 if late
OF NOTE: RSVP on Drag 101 Facebook event

As seen in May 16 issue of Inland360.

Overbooked and overbusy

Lindsey Treffry | blot
 
Meredith Metsker is a journalism major. A pep band and marching band member. An acapella-playing KUOI DJ. An editor and member of the Sigma Alpha Iota women’s musical fraternity. A 20-hour minimum, part-time education reporter at The Moscow-Pullman Daily News. She does yoga twice a week and goes to the gym a bit more. Currently on a co-ed basketball team, she plays intramural sports when she can.

Hayden Crosby | Blot
Busy-bee Meredith Metsker DJs
in the KUOI radio station studio.

“Sometimes, I regret that I fill up so much of my time,” Metsker said.

Her part-time job takes up most of her schedule, since the amount of tasks for a reporter constantly fluctuates.

“I like the busy life, I guess,” she said.

Sadie Grossbaum knows the story.

The outdoor recreation leadership major and psychology minor also serves as an ASUI Senator, a member of the Alcohol Task Force, an Outdoor Program staffer, a Free Thought Moscow member, and she dances her Wednesday nights away with the UI Swing Dance Club.

When Grossbaum made the switch from biochemisty to recreational leadership, it wasn’t to lighten her schedule.

“When I told (biochemistry students) I was changing my major, they said ‘So you’re giving up?’” she said. “I had a 4.0.”

Recreation is what Grossbaum likes.

“Since I’ve been in Moscow this semester, I haven’t spent a single weekend in Moscow,” the skier and hiker said.

But there are downsides to such a busy schedule.

Grossbaum noticed a decline in her personal health.

“I don’t have time to go to the gym,” she said. “I don’t have time for basic human needs. Sleep doesn’t come often.”

This year, Metsker finally realized she had overbooked her schedule.

“I have no time to take care of myself,” Metsker said. “I had to bail out on people … I hate being a flaky person.”

UI Psychologist and Professor Sharon Fritz said there are consequences to an overbooked schedule, including lack of sleep or poor eating habits that can lead to irritability or tensions in relationships. 

“Not taking care of yourself, not eating right, sleeping right, not engaging in physical activity — accumulatively, that will catch up with you,” Fritz said.

Stress can cause gastrointestinal problems, upset stomachs, back aches or headaches, she said.
“You’re worrying a lot, have racing thoughts, not being able to quiet the mind or turn it off emotionally,” Fritz said.

This matters now, Fritz said, because busy students are potentially establishing life-long patterns, just as she has in her life.

In college, Fritz wanted to do well academically. She had a part-time job, she volunteered, held internships, had a boyfriend, was part of sport clubs and wanted to get all As — 99s to be specific. Flash forward to last month and Fritz admitted to taking on more projects than she should have. 

“If we are busy now, the chances are we will be busy in the future,” she said. 

Being overloaded is something busy-bee Grossbaum notices in others, too.

“People should give 100 percent to one thing instead of 10 percent to 10 things,” she said. “Some people are so good at so many things.”

But, she said, the quality of work often suffers.

So if now is the time to adjust schedules, how can busy students learn to cut back?

“It’s easier to say ‘no’ if you understand what your priorities and goals are,” Fritz said. “It’s not saying ‘no,’ it’s saying ‘Yes’ to your priorities.” 

She suggests role-playing. Say “no.” Think of reasons ahead of time to say “no.” 

“I’d love to do that, but now isn’t a good time for me,” she said, for example.

If students juggle too much, they can’t do a good job, and that impacts how students see themselves, Fritz said. 

There is another side of the spectrum, though — lazy students. Students who say “no” to everything. Students who are barely involved in school itself.

“People who are involved in a club activity do better academically,” Grossbaum said. 

Fritz compares it to a bell curve.

“Too much stress interferes with our performance. But the same is true if we’re not stressed enough or not busy enough,” she said. “It’s hard for students to manage that. It changes every semester.”

With changing credit loads, classes and outside activities, each semester brings a different level of stress. Fritz emphasizes balance. 

“Being stressed enhances happiness, motivation and overall success,” she said, as opposed to a lack thereof.

Grossbaum said her outside activities and involvement in ASUI give her a sense of community that less-busy students may be missing out on.

“If you don’t have that, it can be detrimental to your academics,” she said.

And although Metsker is booked clear through her May graduation, she enjoys everything she does.

“Music is my stress relief, and KUOI goes along with that,” she said. “Music may not be applicable to my career as a journalist, but being able to juggle all these activities is invaluable.”

As seen in April issue of Blot Magazine.

KRUMP kreations: Dance style makes its way from inner-city streets to UI Jazz Fest workshop

Lindsey Treffry | The Argonaut

For Christa Davis, KRUMP started three springs back at a national conference in San Diego, Calif. But for Thomas Johnson, aka Tommy the Clown, it began more than 20 years ago.

Davis, a University of Idaho doctoral student studying Physical Education Pedagogy with a dance emphasis, teaches UI classes, such as children’s dance, to pre-service teachers. When she attended the national conference three years ago, she spent half a day with Tommy and his crew in order to learn more about “krumping” or KRUMP, which stands for Kingdom Rejoicing Uplifting Mighty Praise.
Tommy the Clown created KRUMP.

“He was born in the inner-city,” Davis said.

One day in his early teens, he visited a cousin in inner-city Los Angeles. His cousin was doing a drug deal and Tommy decided to join in and conduct a drug deal, too.

“He made lots of money,” Davis said. “It became his vocational vision.”

In a few years, he moved to Los Angeles, set up his own space as a drug dealer and eventually got caught. He spent five years in prison.

“He had a lot of time to think,” Davis said. “He thought he needed to do something positive that was not destructive.”

Once released, he found a job as a typist clerk. One of his co-workers asked if he’d be a clown for her daughter’s birthday. He had no idea how to be a clown, Davis said, but he bought a rainbow-colored afro-wig and thought, “I can do hip-hop dance, so I’ll be a hip-hop clown.”

“The kids loved him,” Davis said.

From there, he decided his “clown dance” was the positive thing he was looking for.
“So he used what he knew as a drug dealer and translated it into dance,” Davis said.

Tommy rainbow-painted a van, played music through loud speakers and danced in the streets.

Children were attracted to the music and dancing, and eventually requested to perform at birthday parties with him. So, he developed an academy for KRUMP.

“The kids could dance as long as they were gang-free, drug-free and doing well in school,” Davis said.

KRUMP took on new forms and morphed into its own style. It was a way for dancers to release what they were feeling, whether it was happy, frustrated, mad or sad.

“KRUMP is unique,” she said. “It’s initiation-motivated movement.”

She said your first step leads to your second. For example, if your chest pops forward, your foot will step forward.

Tommy’s academy was full, as was his crew, and other crews began to break off.
“And from there, it exploded,” Davis said.

Some crews, sometimes gang-like, leaned toward more sexual or violent dances, but Tommy and others stayed true to his dance.

And so will Davis as she leads two KRUMP workshops as part of the 2013 Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival.

“Krumping allows people to be healthy emotionally, based on how they’re moving,” she said. “There are no mistakes and you don’t have to be perfect.”

Davis will give a brief history of KRUMP and lead two krumping combinations. She said there may be a chance for a KRUMP battle or an improvisational session.

As seen in Feb. 19 issue of The Argonaut.

Hope after the storm

Lindsey Treffry | blot

It’s on bumpers, buttons and stickers. It hangs from buildings and businesses, and is displayed in the University of Idaho Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender office. The rainbow flag is even tattooed on Julia Keleher’s arm.

Keleher, the UI LGBT Office and Programs Coordinator, got the tattoo at 19. 

“Our LGBT community back in the ‘70s … had the idea of pride,” she said. “It’s all about pride. It’s being proud of who you are.”

In 1978, the San Francisco Gay and Lesbian Pride Parade commissioned artist Gilbert Baker to design a new symbol for its marches. Baker taught himself to sew and began crafting the banner. 

“The rainbow is a part of nature and you have to be in the right place to see it,” Baker told a CBS Chicago reporter in June 2012. “It’s beautiful, all of the colors, even the colors you can’t see that really fit us as a people because we are all of the colors ... all the genders, races and ages.”

Paige Davies, the AmeriCorps women’s mentoring, service learning and volunteer coordinator, said Baker probably chose rainbow colors because they are obnoxious.

“It’s in your face. There’s no hiding it,” she said. 

Davies’ interpretation has changed throughout the years.

“To me, now it’s annoying,” Davies said. “Everything has to be rainbow-colored.”

But Davies said the loud colors led her to Inland Oasis, a volunteer organization that serves LGBT communities.

“The logo had rainbow flag colors. Now it says ‘open, accepting, affirming,’ but it used to only have the rainbow,” Davies said. “I knew, then, that that was a place I could go. It was reassuring.”

She said it was just as reassuring to see rainbow flag stickers in UI professors’ offices — part of the UI Safe Zone project.

“They didn’t have to tell me that it was OK to be gay,” she said. “I just knew.”

Katie Noble, UI Women’s Center administrative assistant, said the flag represents a unity of all differences in the community.

“Before coming out, you’re hiding who you are. But with the flag, you’re not gonna hide from that anymore,” Noble said. “The flag is so vibrant and solid.”

And each vibrant color has a meaning.

Red means life. Orange, healing. Yellow, sunlight. Green, nature. Blue, harmony. And purple for spirit. 

The flag once had pink for sex, and turquoise for art or magic, but the colors were later dropped to simplify production.

“The flag is our connection to our history,” Keleher said. “There are symbols (like the flag) and it’s important in understanding where (they) come from.”

Noble said interpretations aren’t always positive.

“For those who are not supportive (of the LGBT community), they’re like ‘Oh, there’s another rainbow flag,’” she said. “There are two sides of it.”

Davies said she might understand why the rainbow was chosen.

“It’s happy, rich and full of life-colors,” she said. “It’s the hope after the storm.”

As seen in February issue of Blot Magazine.

Surviving death

Lindsey Treffry | blot

Everybody dies.

“Death sucks no matter what,” University of Idaho student Britnee Packwood said. “Death is the worst thing that is on this planet.”

Amrah Canul | Blot

Packwood knows death up close. She has since May 16, 2011.

“My dad was 61 when he passed away,” she said. “We knew we were gonna lose him earlier than a lot of other kids.”

Packwood was in eighth grade the first time her dad went to the hospital for a heart attack. Doctors estimated he had two years to live. The attack was followed by years of heart complications, more heart attacks and congestive heart failure. Her dad even had an attack in the left anterior descending artery, known as the Widow Maker.

Sharon Fritz, a licensed psychologist and professor, works at the UI Counseling Center and helps students deal with grief.

“At my age, you’re expecting to see friends sick and grandparents dying,” Fritz said. “You don’t expect it in the 18 to 25 group range, but I see it a lot. In my caseload, at least half a dozen a semester.”

Nationally, personal experience facing death is not uncommon among young people. According to National College Health Assessment surveys gathered in Fall 2011, 15.5 percent of students had experienced the death of a family member or friend. At UI, 15.8 percent of students have experienced the same.

In spring 2011, Packwood’s parents took a trip to Houston. One day, her dad wasn’t feeling well and called her from the hotel.

“I had probably had the weirdest conversation I had ever had with my father,” Packwood said.

Out of nowhere, he asked what she was going to do if they weren’t on the same “time zone clock” anymore.

“Who are we going to call all the time? … No matter who you are, where you are or what you’re doing, I’m always going to be with you,” he told her.

She didn’t think much of it.

“I thought he was doing his whole Dad thing,” Packwood said. “When they got back from Lewiston the next day, I called my mom to ask if their flight went OK. I heard him in the background. He said, ‘No I talked to her yesterday. Just make sure she knows I love her.’”

It was only a couple of hours later that her parents were in an ambulance to the hospital — for the last time. Packwood and her sister later followed.

“We said goodbye, kissed our dad and left,” she said.

Soon after, he passed.

The sisters had last heard that their dad was feeling better. Packwood’s mom returned home to bring them the news.

“We all come in the living room. And all she can say is ‘He’s gone,’” Packwood said. “She is blubbering. My sister starts screaming and bawling her eyes out. And I’m standing there holding a grown woman and a junior in high school in my arms and having them cry on my shoulder. I’m emotionless. I don’t know what to do. I’m more concerned with them instead of myself at the time.”

Fritz said the grieving process is complicated when a person knows they are dying and the end comes suddenly.

“People deal with it different ways when it comes,” Fritz said. “When it is sudden, they either didn’t have a chance to prepare for it or understand it. (It’s a sense of) lack of preparedness.”

In cases like Packwood’s, Fritz said the stages of grief are dragged out more.

“There is a sense of shock.” Fritz said. “It may take a longer time (to grieve). The peaks and valleys are more intense … more ebbs and flows.”

Packwood said knowing he would die soon was worse.

“To lose someone suddenly is awful. It’s terrible,” Packwood said. “But to have to see somebody in a prolonged state of deterioration and just losing it, I think it’s worse. A little piece of your soul gets eaten away, knowing there is nothing you can do.”

She helped her mom make phone calls to family members, and the next morning departed for a UI Conservation Social Sciences field studies trip.

In the Mammoth area of Yellowstone National Park, Packwood spotted a moose.

“I just sat on a rock next to it,” she said. “... I looked up and I was like, ‘OK, I’m gonna be OK. Things are gonna be fine.’ Maybe that was my moment of acceptance.”

The trip ended, she returned home and helped her mom with funeral home planning, transferring the body and figuring out funeral expenses.

“The weirdest thing for me was he was near his chair,” she said. “But he was in a really tiny box next to his chair. I thought, ‘So this is what’s left — a tiny little box of ashes.’”

Those ashes, later sealed in a vault, were surrounded by heirlooms that Packwood and her sister placed inside.

“There was a little wooden box in a bag and the bag wasn’t closed all the way,” she said. “I’m like putting stuff in there. I move the bag, and it’s closed but it wasn’t closed (all the way). I was like, ‘I have my father on my hands.’ I laughed. It was the first time I had truly laughed in such a long time … My sister and I were gut rolling.”

Packwood said returning to UI solidified her belief that her dad wanted the family to keep living.
“That was really when I accepted what it was for what it was,” she said. 

They buried him in a family plot in Montana, where Packwood was raised and where her parents met.

“And if there is a cool part to this, I’m pretty certain about this — at the exact time (of my dad’s death), the chime went off that a baby was born,” Packwood said. “My mom said ‘I didn’t have the heart to go down there, but if it’s a boy — oofh, those parents are going to need some help.’”

Packwood said the death of her father has opened her eyes and pushed her to live more.

“Don’t forget that there is always someone who has a shoulder,” she said. “Don’t forget that you need to do what you need to do for yourself and don’t forget to live. If you have to take a month to just let it all out, go for it. But go back to work. Go back to school. Go back to having girls’ night. Whatever it is. Normalcy, at first, (will) feel weird but it’ll get better.”

Fritz agreed.

“We tell our students to solicit support,” she said. “Death makes you depressed and you want to pull away. But you have to tell your friends, ‘I need you to call me, I need you to take me out.’”
Packwood said there isn’t an easy way to deal with death.

“It’s death. It happens,” she said. “You can’t revel in it and you can’t live in it … you can’t stay there forever. You gotta move on.” 

As seen in December 2012 issue of blot magazine.