Portrait Jack Lee


And now the purple dusk of Twilight time steels across the medals of my heart. High up in the sky, the little star shine reminding me that we are a power outside. I am 91 years old. I had a twin brother, two, uh, two older sisters and another brother. And my mother and father, they're all dead. I'm the only one left. And I it's a mystery to me as to why I still here. And they're all gone. What's her name is John K a Jack Lee. I love life. I love life more now. Oh, I am become the kind of man I've always wanted to be. Well, I think, uh, the meditation that I do every morning and, uh, my goal of keeping busy, uh, and just the. That I, I, I really love living now. I didn't feel that way before. There was a lot of burdens and now I'm free. And my attitude comes now from the fact that I'm living a lie face that I never dreamed I could live. I'm living a life of, uh, excitement of, uh, uh, Uh, I'm living a life of being useful in ways that I never thought I could be. Uh, uh, I feel like, uh, that I am, uh, I I'm, I'm touching other people's lives and I'm doing that through my singing and I'm doing that through my right. I spent a 43 year career in one of the dullest businesses you could get into the life insurance business. We never ever used the words, death dying or dead. Everybody passed away or passed on because we're in a terrible denial in this nation about the. Oh, actually take a look at the obituaries in any Sunday paper, uh, especially the Seattle Sunday paper. Nobody dies. They all pass away. I was the vice president and, uh, public relations chairman for an, an organization in Seattle called compassion in dying. And this little organization, we would work with people and we would help them die. These were people who were terminally ill. There was no, no health for their recovery. And, uh, they had to have two doctors tell us that, uh, they were dying and we were the ones that got the law passed here in the state of Washington, uh, that you can now. Uh, ask your doctor to help you to die. Carmella. And I moved to Bellingham, uh, in 1998, just after the death of our daughter, Kathleen, who died of a, uh, a brain tumor. We were married 63 years and, um, I th Camilla fulfills me. We fulfilled each other. Um, we were crazy about each other. We always were what I took away. Most of all was her courage and her determination, multiple sclerosis. It kills by inches. She hated when people would look at her and, you know, in pity or in, she says, pity, doesn't feed the cat. And, uh, She didn't like when people suggested that she, she had a medical challenge or something like that, I mean, she had a terrible disease and it was a very, very slow, uh, uh, disease in the beginning. She would simply hold onto my arm and then she got a cane and then she got a Walker. And then finally she ended up in a wheelchair. And then finally in the end, uh, she spent three and a half years in a nursing home right here in, uh, the Alderwood, uh, nursing home off of Northwest. Uh, in the beginning we had, we didn't have a private room, but then we finally ended up with a private room and it was, we made it a little paradise. I mean, we. We, I would read your, we would watch movies and television and, um, it was wonderful. I feel better than I've ever felt in my life. Uh, my health is better than it's ever been and I'm excited. I'm, uh, I love singing. I sing here at the solstice every. For the residence. And in order to do that, I've got to get new songs. I take good care of myself. First of all, um, I have quit smoking. I still exercise. Um, my health is the most important thing that I have because without it I'm use useless. My primary concern is to be useful. I've often told others that when it's my time to go is when I stop being useful.