Gimme Sympathy - Acoustic

Such a crush What a crash Headfirst in luv
I can feel it in my bones The flesh is weak

Greetings friends of Scotty Hard, aka Scott Harding.

Brother Mike chimes in with an update for 2009. It is amazing what a difference a day made, in the words of Dinah Washington. And it is amazing what love and friendship can do in a simple year's time. And it is humbling to know what we cannot do.
And through all of this, we continue to marvel at the man himself, and how he chooses to live his life.
No is not an option.
Scotty Hard is made of Hard stock; anyone who has met his father, and had the opportunity to enjoy his mother, or the equally talented brothers, Mike and Brian, know the Hardings are a special stock.
In this time of bailouts and stimulus packages, it is inspiring to know that we can all be stimulated by the gift of friendship.
Love to Scott, Mike, and all Hardstockers.
Dennis
http://www.densemilt.com/http://www.holyhardstock.com/http://www.workhardprayhardscottyhard.com/
----- Original Message -----
From: Tom Camuso
To: Leif Arntzen
Sent: Sunday, February 15, 2009 11:44 AM
Subject: 2009 Update from Mike
Dear Friends of Scott,
About a month before Christmas, Scott made the unexpected decision to come to Vancouver for the holiday, after we had realized that there was really no place where the four of us (Scott, Dad, Brian and I) could spend it together in NYC. Very fortunately, Heesok was also visiting so Scott got the same flights and had a much needed travel companion. I had not seen him since August at Mom's funeral and I was looking very much forward to seeing for myself how his life has progressed since leaving Beth Abraham Rehab Centre on September 5th. Since then Scott has been living in his own apartment in Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn in the same building as his good friends Joel and Rachel and not far from Heesok and Carrie.
Being in his own place for the first time since the accident in February was always going to present new and difficult challenges. The change from institutional living would not be easy or simple. Managing dozens of everyday tasks from a wheelchair, with only the use of your body from the mid-chest upwards... During this transitional time, before he can live fully independent, Scott has four full-time, around the clock home health aides (they work in 2 12 hour shifts per day) to help him with household tasks, dressing, showering, turning him over every two hours at night, accompanying him to therapy and doctors appointments and other things.
So after a lot of preplanning with Scott, scouting suitable accommodation, booking and hiring a home-care worker, gathering supplies and other logistical things, Brian and I picked Scott and Heesok up in the middle of Vancouver's worst snowstorm in (30?) years at 1am on Dec.22. For Scott to get around requires more planning and consideration than just, 'We'll pull up'. First you have to find an area that he can even get up to and of course at the airport the snowplows had just pushed massive piles of snow from the road up all over the "Handicapped Loading Area", rendering it utterly useless, which any person with an ounce of brain matter could easily have figured out as they were doing it. So we have to park in a bus zone and get yelled and screamed at by the 'parking diva' until she sees this guy in wheelchair and then shuts up... Find just the right spot and angle, maneuver the chair into position, everything has to be all lined up just so, and then he can do the transfer into the vehicle, fold the chair up into the trunk and then you go. Then of course it all happens in reverse when you get there. My Dad's place would be have been totally inaccessible to Scott but for us serendipitously receiving a motorized stairway-chair from a family friend who passed away. And here too it's an equally involved scene as the one for the car.
Just getting around takes up a huge amount of Scott's time and energy. Going for the 'convenience' of the wheelchair cab isn't always the better alternative either. Vancouver cab drivers couldn't miss an opportunity to shame themselves in this painfully prolonged run-up to our "Great International Showcase". (Hey, I'm sure taxi companies are huge supporters of the Paralympic games). A bunch of us involved in the Hardstock Benefit shows gathered for a great lunch at Hy's downtown, organized by Dennis Mills. Afterwards Scott, Juliana and I tried some Christmas shopping in the snowy, messy downtown. To get home we waited over an hour and a half for a cab that - as far as we know - is still coming. Attempts at flagging just ended in drive-offs (is that a word?). Last option, we took the subway/skytrain (make sure the elevators are working!) and then literally 'plowed' our way through a few blocks of snow to get home. This kind of treatment was a revelation to me (maybe it shouldn't have been), but I guess it's reality when you are disabled; constant reminders that some people want to push you aside and forget about you. Scott has stories of being left at the side of the road, stranded(!), by Access-A-Ride, of their constant lateness or taking the wrong routes to his appointments and ending up in the wrong part of town. The good news is that Scott's gearing up to start taking the bus on his own soon. Small steps towards more independence!
Mobility in his own neighbourhood in Brooklyn is also far from ideal as the sidewalks are in poor condition and the ramps often not usable by wheelchairs, severely limiting his ability to get around. He's hopeful of moving to a new place in downtown Brooklyn where the streets are better maintained and lots of shops and other things are within easy 'wheeling-distance'. This potential new place is somewhat smaller but set up much better for wheelchair accessibility. Affordable, (wheelchair)-accessible places are not easy to come by. But even this, despite gargantuan month-long efforts - thanks to Carrie Goldberg, Lauren Hall and Cate Oberg for steering the application process - is far from certain to happen. For Scott it's just not as simple as: 'Hey, I think I'll move...there!'
All of these obstacles and more Scott is meeting with a kind of equanimity and poise that I could hardly imagine myself summoning were I in his place. Spending time in Scott's orbit you'll come to greatly admire, as have I, the quiet resolve he brings to this day-to-day struggle.
Scott, as ever (he hasn't changed in that way), prefers to dwell on what's positive in his life. So we talked about the new studio and the work that's gone into it (mostly done by the indefatigable Tom) to make it accessible for him; his successes at setting up a small but useful work space in his apartment and the good feeling of being able to do some work again. Of the joys of being able to see his many friends in his own surroundings, to cook dinners, watch TV and just hang out together. A huge and welcome change from previous. About the slow but steady progress he makes in his various rehab programs. He takes occupational therapy and physical therapy three times a week at NYU/RUSK as well as his own 'self-directed' weight-workouts in the gym at Heesok's building multiple times a week. Beginning in a couple of weeks he is starting tai chi classes. All that in addition to irregular doctor and social worker appointments for blood tests, check-ups, etc.
Just because he was in Vancouver, Scott decided that his traditional Boxing Day's Party shouldn't have to be cancelled. (Americans: What is this 'Boxing Day'?). Some used the weather as an excuse to jam out, those who didn't discovered what a a brilliant cook Brian is and a novel and potent concoction called 'Bushnog'. Scott was truly in his element here holding court before many dear and long unseen friends. Ya missed a great one.
For the next few months Scott wants to really concentrate on his health and his re-hab program. With the new studio in Greenpoint nearing completion there will a be chance to ease back into some part-time work, as it goes. Being with and around Scott on a daily basis for a full week really illuminated for me the grinding details of the life that's been cruelly imposed upon a totally innocent person. Living across the continent it can become all too easy to forget that he's now living on such a radically different level than ours. Brian, Dad and I want to acknowledge and thank the people (too many to name all) who have been so central in supporting Scott in the past year, especially: Tom, Leif, Christina, Heesok and Carrie, all of whom I've had the privilege of meeting and spending time with.
It's been almost a year since Scott's accident - but really this is just the beginning. There is still so far to go, so much to do, so many challenges to be met and overcome. I hope that all of you have a chance to be with Scott sometime soon and experience the dignity and courage he exhibits and with which he will ultimately conquer this enormous test. Scott truly values and needs all of our support, in whatever form or amount. Please go to the links if you want to contribute, organize a supper or just drop a line to say hello. Thanks to you all for keeping Scott in your thoughts this past year and I hope you'll continue to do so.
Mike Harding
http://www.scottyhardtrust.com/
http://www.scottyhardsuppers.com/

Scotty Hard in the House of Hy's

Just before Christmas 2008, Scotty Hard returned to Vancouver. I had the privilege of taking him to a hockey game, where we got the Royal treatment in the box, and then a Vancouver's bums rush on curbside waiting for a handicab.
Ran into Mr. Northey and Bentall though, so all was good. Next day, enjoyed my first facial and a steak and martini lunch at Hy's with the Hardstock steering committee. We had two important visitors from NY- Dr. Chang and Mr. Hard. Ok, maybe he isn't a doctor, but he can operate.
Sampled the Bushnog at Harding house on Boxing Day, and was caught out playing Scrabble with the Maggot, Manny and the Mrs and little Alexandra. Icer and Drowners.
And 2009? Happy Hardstock!

Road Rage - the Beast is Loose!!!

Today I invite you to visit my secret blog site, www.holyanger.com
which is no longer secret. There you will see the dark side of this dense one, as I tell my Mr. Hyde story.


http://www.holyanger.com/

Mad Max R.I.P.

Mad Max is gone to Live Under the Big Bed. Friday November 21, we woke to a house without Max. Could not find the little guy, who loved to live under the bed(s). An all out search ensued, and Max could not be found anywhere in the house. We looked in the back yard, thinking that somehow the poor little guy was forgotten outside overnight. We could find him nowhere, but the sky was still dark as the day was young.

We looked down the street, we searched the house again, the garage, the closets, under all the beds.

I went back out into the backyard for another search, as the light was improving. I looked into the pool. All I saw was leaves and debris, and a curious shape just before the pool drops off into the deep end. All nerves, I went to get the net. I nudged the leaves, hoping they would all disperse, but no.

Poor Max had fallen in the pool at some point, and his cold little body was lying at the bottom of the pool.

I pushed his body toward the shallow end with the pole, and went inside to let my wife and daughter know. At that point, all hell broke loose as our grief and shock realized that

Max was not under the bed, but was truly gone.

He was not a young dog. He was very old, and in very bad health. But he was always the old soldier, bravely going up and down the stairs ( well, we carried him down most of the time), and for over a year had been disoriented with a brain tumour.

At some point, one of us had let him out, and he had fallen in the pool. It was a horrible accident, but unless you had been there at the exact moment, the result would have been the same. I had saved him about a year earlier in the black of night when he fell in. But this time, this time, there was no one to help. It is hard to know if he stumbled in, or if one of the other pups gave him a nudge in good fun that proved fatal. There is nothing to be gained from any more understanding or information. He lived a long life, was truly loved, and when the time came, this was how his life ended.

I will always miss my Max. The crazy little schnauzer with the big heart.

From My Conversations with Dog

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Another Breed

Two years ago my father died, and two months later my father-in-law died. It was like losing two Dads.
I had grown very close to my father-in-law, having lived in the same house with him for about 9 months as cancer slowly took his life.
A few years before that, he and his wife took in Max, who is pictured here. Max had come from an abusive relationship. He was almost autistic; very stiff in his musculature, he did not like to be touched, and did not respond to the usual games. He liked to bite strangers, including two Jehovah's Witnesses, a paperboy, and my brother-in-law. He would jump up as he barked, and bounding across the lawn, he looked a miniature guard dog as he tore to the perimeter, ensuring that noone came into the yard. We had to hold him back when we brought friends to the house.
Slowly, over the last three years, and especially since the loss of his master, Max has become more lovable, more socialized, and a beloved part of our family.
In the past three years, he has endured about 7 operations. Three years ago, a tumor was removed from his hind leg. Six months ago, we removed it again. Yesterday, we had to remove it for the third time.
This was a decision not taken lightly, as the cancer has burrowed into the surrounding tissue, very close to the femoral artery. The vet was worried about potential blood loss, as he was operating. We did not know this prior to the operation, only that the anaethesia could prove difficult for his lungs. Unfortunately, the tumour had grown to such proportions that we were also worried it would rupture. Max is about 14 years old, we think. We don't really know. In many ways, he would suggest a younger dog, but the math seems most probable that he is about that age. He also has cancer in brain, causing him to circle sometimes, or lose his balance and fall over. He "shakes" it off, and carries on. Our vet is amazed at Max's ability to withstand pain. What would put any of us over, is not ever acknowledged. He is like an old soldier, another breed, a member of the generation that we are all losing now, like my dad and father-in-law. A tougher class.
I salute this little schnauzer for his bravery and his heroism as he battles this enemy from within. He is an inspiration to us all.
Posted by Dense Milt at 11:22 AM 0 comments

Subject: August update - from Scott!

Greetings all the many people who have asked to be kept in touch with what is going on in Scott Harding's life. This month's update is written by none other than Scott, himself.
Just believe in the big guy and say the following:
Scotty Hard Will Walk Again.


To: Leif Arntzen
Sent: Saturday, August 23, 2008 8:02 AM

Well, it's about time for one of these things to be written by yours truly, so here we go.This month has a very intense one, to say the least.On July 17th, I received a call from my brother Mike, telling me that my mother was in the hospital.She remained there for 2 nights with dangerously high potassium levels. They were able to bring her levels down,and keep them down, so she was allowed to leave the hospital on Saturday, the 19th. She had been battling cancer on and off for 16 years, and had been diagnosed again in 2005 when spots appeared on her liver. She subsequently received chemo that winter, and had been fighting it ever since. After spending the weekend talking to my Mom and Dad and brothers, I decided I needed to get out and see her. I spent the next week negotiating with the Beth Abraham administration and my therapists for a leave of absence. It was decided I could go for a week, and I scheduled my trip for the following Friday. It was the soonest all this could be organized, given all the particulars that needed to be sorted out. Christina Campanella offered to escort me out to Vancouver, and my dear friend Susan Fiedler got us tickets with her air miles. We were set to go. I spoke to Mom on Tuesday night (the 30th) while my Dad was at the airport picking up Brian, who was returning from Europe after having just done his first cruise. She sounded very weak, and was only able to say a few words at a time. I had a bad feeling that night before falling asleep that I might not make it to Vancouver in time. My fears were confirmed the next morning, when Mike called at 10am telling me Mom was dead. She had passed that night peacefully in her sleep. I was of course devastated by this news. My mother and I are very close, and she meant the world to me. It would take pages and pages to describe her and her wonderful life. Suffice to say that she will be missed greatly by me and my brothers and father, and to countless other people around the world. Heesok came up to the Bronx shortly after my call to him, and Sebastian and Leif came later than evening with some chicken and a few beers. So glad I had some good friends who could come and be by my side that day.On Friday morning, Christina arrived and we set out on this long journey. I wasn't feeling ready to make a trip like this at this point of my recovery, but I didn't really have much choice. It wouldn't be the first time I've jumped into the deep end. The trip started out poorly, as the limo company we had schedule days before didn't show up. They are called Lincoln Limousine, if you care to boycott them. Put them right up there with Metro Line car service in Brooklyn. After calling the local Bronx car service (2 minutes!!), a black Town Car arrived. I quickly abandoned my aversion to riding in said vehicles, and after a sliding board transfer, we were on our way to JFK.We checked in for our Air Canada flight at the United Airlines check in and were informed that all we needed to do was go to the gate. OK, seems normal. Next thing we know, we're standing at the top of a long staircase that leads to our gate, and after much inquiry, find out there is no elevator to this gate. So, back through security I go (Christaina's not allowed to come with me), through several back doors and corridors, and wind up at good old Gate 11. At which point the gate agent gives US shit for not telling them that I was in a wheelchair!!! OK, now we know. Make a very obvious point of telling EVERYONE along the way that I'm in a wheelchair. Even when I right in front of them. In a wheelchair. The rest of the trip was fairly smooth, and next thing ya know we're in rainy Vancouver, greeted at the airport by Chris and Clara and my brother Mike. Needless to say we were very glad to get there.The funeral was scheduled the following Thursday, so the rest of the time was spent seeing a few friends, making arrangements and putting together a collage for the memorial. As well as getting a feel for life back in the real world. I was given a wheelchair accessible apartment across the courtyard from Mom and Dad's place by their good friend Pat O'Rourke. A lift was installed at their place by Mike, Pauline and Simon Kendall, and their son in law Vince. And a ramp was built for the steps leading up to the front door by Simon and his buddy John. Many thanks to all those good folks. Couldn't have made it up to the apartment without those things.My Uncle Mike and our cousin David came out from Paris, Ontario, my Mom's hometown, for the funeral. Mike made a very emotional and touching speech and Brian wrote and performed a song with Finn Manniche (from our old band the JD's) on cello, Simon on piano, Randy Murray on bass and Willie Miles singing. My Mom had a big hand in preparing the service, and many of her friends participated by reading, giving communion, preaching and celebrating the service, as well as providing refreshments at the reception. There was a large turnout, and I saw many people from the past to the present, all of whom gave great tribute to my Mom's life. Mom's friend Linda St. Claire presided and Peter Elliot, the dean of the Cathedral, preached. They both did an excellent job that would have made her very happy. And Barry Cooke, her oldest friend from Paris, gave a speech and told a few story's of their early years.We returned the following day to New York. The return trip was far easier, as we had a much better idea of what to expect, and my old friend Ray Tseng hooked us up with passes to the first class lounge at the Vancouver airport, as well as seats in executive class. Nice. Thanks, Ray.I can't say I was glad to be returning to Beth Abraham after a taste of freedom, but there seemed to be unfinished business in terms of my rehab. The next week I finally made it to my Access-A-Ride evaluation with the help of Marc Berg, and went and picked up my new glasses from the optician here in the Bronx. That's another long story I won't get into. After returning to the Physical Therapy that afternoon, I learned that I needed to be re-admitted to the program. The next day I found out I had maxed out in PT (graduated??), but that I would continue doing Occupational Therapy till I leave. That led to the inevitable question of "When?". Well, it looks like that could be as soon as the first week of September, so there's some good news!That's about it as we head towards September. I hope this finds you all well and healthy.

Bests,

sh

Capturing the Moment

It was a morning in October. I was sitting at the desk blogging when I heard a thud against the window. A few seconds later I heard a second thud, and I rose to look out the window. Below me on the ground were two birds, robins I think.

One was lying there - the one in the picture- and one was standing guard over her, waiting for movement, a sign of life.

I watched them for about five minutes, and neither of them moved.

I went downstairs, and quietly opened the door. Still, no movement.

The bird in the picture was dead, killed after crashing into the windows, once or twice. The other bird was watching her, like in the song Someone to Watch Over Me. He did not move as I approached. I gently motioned toward him with my foot. He did not move. I touched him very gently. He did not move.

I saw a neighbor and motioned for them to come over and witness this with me. She said, Oh my god, Robins mate for life. One is the female, and the other is the male. He won't leave her.

We both approached, and still, no one moved.

I said, I've got to get a picture of this. I went inside to get the camera. As I came out, and prepared to take the photo, the male bird finally moved, and flew off. I had missed my opportunity to capture the moment.

Still, as you have read, the moment was captured in my memory. The scene of devotion, and connection, and reverence touched me. It still does. Many people talk about birds and animals as if they have no feelings, but it is obvious they have complex emotions. What was going on the bird's brain and heart as he stood guard over his beloved? What was he feeling? Could words express his loss? One moment they were flying, and the next moment, life changed for both of them in a way that neither could imagine. Not that different than our lives, is it?