Columnist Susan Snyder: Facing an altered reality

Tuesday, Aug. 20, 2002 | 8:15 a.m.

Life is short.

It is too short to turn down a chance to pedal a bicycle down a country road and eat blackberries that hang thick from bushes growing along the shoulder.

It is too short to avoid battling 40 mph headwinds in order to stand inside the oldest lighthouse on the Oregon coast.

It is too short to not sleep on the ground -- when you desperately want a real bed and a hot bath -- so that you can awake to the sounds and smells of the Pacific Ocean just beyond the tent door.

I knew that before I left on vacation two weeks ago.

But it was underscored by the recent, tragic deaths of two coworkers. I learned of them through messages left on my cell phone, which I carry so people can reach me in case anything bad happens.

Usually, nothing does.

But the bad happenings started with news that Joe Delaney, Sun entertainment columnist, had suffered a severe stroke from which he was not expected to recover. He died four days later.

He was 80, yet it was news I couldn't have expected. Joe had a knack for knowing exactly what to say and when. His notes of encouragement always came when I needed them most. And whenever I was pushing deadline, crabby from a lack of words or ideas or both, he never failed to interrupt at the moment I thought I would pop and say, "Good morning. How's Susan today?"

Some days it was all I could do to be civil. Didn't he know I was hysterical?

Of course he did. But Joe also knew that life is short, and there is no value in being too busy for "Good morning." Joe was never too busy to talk, answer a question or lend some advice.

As I sipped a latte on Bandon Beach Aug. 9, two days and 144 miles into our bicycle trip, I checked in with my editor, just to see how everyone was doing in the wake of losing one of our own.

"I have more bad news," he said through our crackly connection.

Sandy Thompson, Sun associate editor and family rights columnist, had died that morning in a crash on the 215 Beltway.

I have, by now, read the news accounts. Sandy's office is dark as I write this morning, save for light coming through the window. It looks just as she left it. A gray cardigan hangs on the back of her chair. Framed photographs of her family sit on the desk and file cabinets. Awards and plaques recognizing her public service and journalistic acumen cover a wall. Even the plants are perky and green.

It is hard to believe she won't be walking past my desk this morning.

Sandy must have believed life is short because she crammed so much into hers. Each year she used her finely tuned powers of persuasion to get me to help judge the county-wide high school journalism contest. Even if she handed you 60 entries to read and critique, you couldn't complain because you knew she judged 100.

I thought about Sandy and Joe as we skirted Oregon's Biscuit wildfire, shared camping space with Canadian firefighters and journeyed to Crater Lake. The 74-mile, uphill ride to the lake took almost 10 hours. That's a frightfully long time to sit on a bicycle.

But it's far better than not doing it.

Life is short. Grab hold of all that you can.