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Family
If I could write a letter to heaven…
Jul 28th
DeVelle, I miss you so much. I only got to know you for a couple of days, but I will forever cherish the memories of the time you spent with Mike and me in Tennessee. I’ll never forget your smiling face the second I met you, chips and salsa at La Siesta, or you sweetly complimenting “you look really pretty today” after my long, tiring day at work on Thursday. I’ll always remember the cookout that night, and our trip to downtown Nashville to see the sights. You were so excited about spending time in the studio with Mike, learning about recording. We were both looking forward to watching your career blossom, and to forming a lifelong relationship with you. We think of you and smile every time we see the “Vijay” sign in our neighborhood. That can forever be our little inside joke. 
I wish we could have visited North Dakota with you while you were still here. You were right – ND mosquitos are worse. 
This isn’t goodbye… It’s “see you later.” And we will. Love you forever.
Party it up while we’re still here…
Jul 20th
This may be the only video of Develle performing one of his original songs, “Lost in a Can of Coors Light.” Thanks to Kalie Seltvedt for passing it along.
Miss you so much, Develle.
The player will show in this paragraph
Life is short, and sometimes makes no sense at all.
Jul 18th
My heart is so heavy and filled with such a raw, searing pain. Something terrible happened yesterday.
Mike’s 21 year old cousin Develle and his girlfriend Victoria were visiting Nashville from Grand Forks, ND. Develle was an aspiring country songwriter and was visiting Nashville for the first time, living his dream. He and Victoria road tripped down here, got a nice hotel room at the Sheraton Music City and were having the time of their lives.
Victoria and Develle on their way to Nashville
The four of us had spent Wednesday and Thursday evening together. We went out for Mexican food Wednesday, then Thursday we barbecued here at the house and then took them to downtown Nashville.
Develle, me and Mike
Develle had been hanging out with Mike in the studio during the days, learning about music and recording. Mike was helping him decide how to put together his home studio. Mike and Develle had met when they were little children, but this was the first time they had ever really spent time together. They were having a blast.
Friday afternoon, Develle came over to our house. Mike let him in and they went upstairs. Develle said he needed to hit the bathroom, so Mike went into the studio to wait on him. A few minutes later, Mike heard strange noises. He ran over and banged on the door. Develle said to come in, that he needed help. He went in to help, and Develle was collapsed on the floor. His speech was impaired, he was breathing very heavily, and drifting in and out. Sometimes he was responsive and sometimes not. Mike called 911, and followed instructions until paramedics took over.
Develle did not survive. We don’t know if he died at our home, or in the ambulance, but he was not alive when he arrived at the hospital.
Develle’s girlfriend Victoria was at their hotel in Nashville when everything happened. He had bought her a spa day for her birthday. I kept calling, but her cell phone was dead, so Mike and I drove over there last night and told her the news. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. She kept asking, “Really guys? Really?” We’re all struggling to believe it.
She stayed last night with us, along with Mike’s uncle John and his son, John, Jr. who drove down from Kentucky. They went today to pack up the hotel room, get Develle’s car, and get Develle’s belongings from the medical examiner. They took Victoria to Kentucky today to stay with her family.
The autopsy results will be back Tuesday. We do know Develle had been under treatment recently for blood clots. He was taking medication for them. He had been coughing some on Thursday evening, and was really fatigued. We don’t know if there was an underlying issue, or what exactly happened. Everything is such a mystery.
Thursday night, he was so alive. He told me I looked pretty. We joked about North Dakota mosquitos. He told us about his songwriting aspirations…
Please keep Develle’s family in your prayers. Also remember his girlfriend, Victoria. She is so lost and devastated. They adored one another. Mike is having a really difficult time too. He keeps replaying the whole incident in his mind. He’s really struggling. Even though we are comforted that Develle was with family (Mike) in his last moments, we are still in shock. Develle was an amazing young man with a huge heart. I only met him on Wednesday but I miss him terribly.
You Are Living
May 11th
A gift for my mother and grandmother… Tracing the story of three generations.
called you sunday past
hallmark said it was time
for some contrived day
invented to sell cards and FTD bouquets
and add to radio morning show trivia
give you lip service between station identification
and the phrase that pays
but I refuse to equate your status
to that of national egg month and secretaries’ week
because before it was the fashionyou took your daughters to work…
I.
all three of them in pigtails
when your young wife went away
your dreams snatched away with a shock
so in the midst of depression
economic and otherwise
you raised three little girls
who would raise little girls
who would raise little girls
who would one day hope to
raise little girls to be just like
the great grandma they never knew
who somehow held your heart despite
seventy years of loneliness
empty beds, empty wallets, empty cupboards
I met you fifty years after the storm
loved to visit your farm and trailer home
find peacock feathers and arrowheads
in fields that you plowed
building on the dreams of ancestors long since passed
now I build on yours
you slipped away with your daughters by your side–
and their daughters
who for some reason never considered it a failure
that you came eight years short of your hundred-year promise
your littlest girl
had a littlest girl
who had a little girl
… so that promise is unbrokenII.
standing in afternoon windowpane shadows
laughing melancholy memories
about how grandpa Arbra used to notice
your every six-month pictures of your five-minus-one
and say “you shore do have a lot of grandbabies”
we never bothered to correct him because
what’s the harm in overestimating your hand in creation
maybe it’s just that he could see the futureso your fingertips trace the photos
like the wings of a butterfly
“look here at Arbra and G.S.
they’re both gone now”
and you choked on a tear
“and this… is my mother…
it’s almost scary how much
your mother looks like her.
you know, Les, I feel so cheated.
I never had a mother.
I never had a grandmother.
I don’t even know what kind of person she was
or what her laugh sounded like.
all I know is my dad never loved another woman
like he loved her”
and all I can tell you is that
despite having no example to follow
you made the best mother
and the best grandmother
and I’m thankful to know the sound of your laughter
and I’m thankful to have known what makes you cry
and to see the pride
and tears in your eyesIII.
we’ve been to hell and back
on many an occasion
told me I was special from day one
tuesday’s child… full of grace
sprang from the heart of a woman-child
with but an eighteen year headstart
on the marathon of the ages
I’ve grown accustomed to hearing
about your beauty and poise and contagious joy
how bubbly your laugh and beautiful your smile
and sparkling your green eyes
but your beauty to me comes not from
how many heads you still turn
at high school football games
you were beautiful singing me to sleep
“I love you Leslie…
oh yes I do…
I don’t love anyone…
as much as you…”
at age three those words made me cry
you were beautiful while trying to hide your pain
while staring it in the face
because I had my father’s eyes
you were beautiful when your second
little girl
slipped through the fingers of your heart
and into eternity
you were beautiful when you held me
in steamy bathrooms wheezing
unable to afford hospital beds but
providing the best medicine
you are beautiful now
when you smile at your baby girl
walking across stages
chasing papers
and cry with your baby girl
picking up the pieces of her heart
you are beautiful when you pray
and beautiful when you speak
you are beautiful when you sleepand beautiful when you… live
you bear not only an uncanny physical resemblance
to your grandmother
but a spiritualemotional one as well
you have begun the next pattern
in the woven tapestry of life
and as long as words are spoken
and dreams are unbroken…you are living
Awww… My “baby” brother and sister are growing up.
May 9th
Both my brother and sister went to the prom Saturday night. Terri is a junior, and Martin graduated two years ago, but his “friend” is still in high school, so he went as her date.
(Click the thumbnails to see the full pic.)
Here are Terri and Blake:
And here are Martin and Jordi:
Bad event planning, storms, horrible bathroom stall grammar… and great music
Apr 19th
It just occurred to me that I haven’t yet chronicled the past weekend. We left Friday after work for the Jacksonville Jazz Festival. I was SO ready to see Kirk Whalum, Gerald Albright, Jonathan Butler, Rick Braun, etc. We got into town and picked up Mike’s brother and sister-in-law, then headed to the Ritz Theater. However, when we got there, we were informed that the venue only held 450 people, and the seats were full! (So even though we had tickets, we weren’t getting in.) Basically, the jazz festival daily tickets entitle you to “access” to the events, but not guaranteed seats. That’s cool and all, if you have options. Problem is, the Kirk Whalum show was the last show of the night, and the only one going on at that time, so about 5,000 or more people were trying to cram into a 450 seat theater. For some unknown reason, they let people into the lobby and served them alcohol, all while denying them access. It’s a wonder a riot didn’t break out.
Waiting in vain:
On a trip to the restroom, being the grammar and spelling nazi that I am, I just had to take pictures of these atrocities on the wall. Bless her heart, she was tryin:
We eventually gave up hope and decided to check out a little local jazz spot, Arielle’s. They had a nice classic soul cover band, so we had drinks and danced for a couple of hours:
The next day was great. The first show was Greg Adams at the Florida Theater. Dude is awesome. Then we watched about half of Regina Carter’s set. I was kind of disappointed that she performed all straight-ahead, and none of her fusion stuff. She also seemed to have kind of a diva attitude, and that wasn’t cute. It was funny though how well her band fit the standard stereotypes (big black dude on drums, Asian chick on piano, Malcolm lookin wire rimmed glasses dude on clarinet, etc.). We decided to head down to The Landing for a bit. Here’s Mike singing to Marvin Gaye:
At any rate, we hopped on the trolley to Metropolitan Park to see the rest of Steve Cole’s set. Everything was cool until the storm clouds started rolling in. We got rained on a bit, packed up our lawn chairs, and huddled under the bridge by Alltel Stadium. We decided to brave it, after it looked like things would blow through. We got great seats near the stage, and enjoyed the Peter White/Rick Braun/Richard Elliot/Jonathan Butler show. Jonathan Butler is the freakin’ bomb, seriously. Wow.
Mike and I headed home pretty late. The trolley ride back to our car was insane. The driver put on some 80s party station, and the whole bus was rockin’ to “Rock Steady.” I mean, old white dudes, young black dudes, ladies… we were all singin and dancin. This one old white dude looked at us and was all, “if everyone just had 5 years of this, we’d all be brothers!” LOL
Just as we were pulling into Gainesville, I spotted another atrocity of words:
Wow. That’s all I can say. Just wow.
At least they’re only once a year.
Feb 5th
Had a pretty good weekend. Saturday I just kind of stayed home and relaxed. We got caught up on Tivo’d episodes of House. I [heart] House. Watched the Gators smear Tennessee. Aww yeah, still #1 baby!
Sunday we had lunch at Red Lobster, then in the early evening went to a Super Bowl party at Mike’s brother’s in Jacksonville. It was… interesting. LOL Had a good time visiting with the fam, but had to cut it short because of our evil jobs expecting us to like… wake up early and come to work today. Whatever.
Had a doctor’s appointment today. (One of “those.” Ugh.) I mean it went as well as “those” appointments can. Coulda been worse, I guess.
Bubbahead
Jan 28th
My baby brother turned 20 yesterday.
I still remember January 27, 1987 like it was yesterday. I remember the principal coming to get me at my lunch table in the third grade to tell me I had a little brother. I remember seeing him later that day for the first time. He was chubby and reddish-yellow (from the jaundice), but was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A couple of weeks later, I sat in the rocking chair in his room and held him in the dark. I had his little head in the palm of my left hand… and I remember telling him I was going to be the best big sister who ever lived.
I’ve always been so proud of Martin. As he was growing up — while I was in high school and college — I loved nothing more on a muggy Missouri summer night than to watch him play ball. He wore #4 because I did. I was always very mindful of the fact that he was watching everything I did, and I didn’t take that responsibility lightly.
It’s been so cool to get to watch him grow from a hilarious, smart, yet sensitive little boy to a talented, kind, handsome (and still hilarious) man. I only wish we could live closer as we share this 20′s thing. It really hit me at Grandfather’s funeral… We’ve always been brother and sister. I mean, we grew up together, shared a ton of memories… but as my baby brother hugged me and I cried… I realized that he is my friend.
Martin, I love you. You do make me proud, and I’m so glad you came into my world twenty years ago.
Grandfather
Nov 11th
I went to Missouri this week for my Grandfather’s funeral. It was very difficult — physically and emotionally draining — but something I needed to do.
The visitation and services were beautiful. There was such an outpouring of love from so many people. His casket was pecan wood, and it was beautiful. It just looked like “him.” The flowers on top were autumn colors, and had a ribbon that Grandmother had imprinted with “Love of my Life.” There was a spray of flowers from the four of us grandchildren that said “Grandfather.” He held three red roses — one from my mother, her sister, and Grandmother. At the funeral, the pastor spoke, and Grandmother and Grandfather’s next door neighbor for the last 35 years spoke. I gave the eulogy, which was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I needed to tell him what he’d meant to me.
I don’t think my life will ever be the same. It’s just so hard to think about the fact that he won’t get to hold my future babies or see Martin or Terri or James get married. More than anything, I wish I could heal Grandmother’s broken heart. It’s such a roller coaster of emotions. One second I laugh, and the next I cry. I just miss him so much.
We spent Wednesday evening at Grandmother’s, looking through old pictures. I found a couple that looked just like my brother.
In this one, he’s 24.
Here, he’s 29.
Here are a few pics from the dinner after the services.
This is my brother, Martin. 
This is my cousin, James.
My Grandmother and her two sisters (she’s in the middle)
My sister, Terri.
Jess David Schaffer (1931-2006)
Nov 6th
SIKESTON — Jess David “J.D.†Schaffer, 75, died at 9:03 a.m. Nov. 4, 2006, in the emergency room at Missouri Delta Medical Center.
Born April 9, 1931, in Kewanee, son of the late James Clifford and Mary Magaline Roberts Schaffer, he was a member of the First Assembly of God Church and worked for the Walter Dollinger Co. of St. Louis for 30 years. He had been a member of the Sikeston Jaycees and was the 1965 general chairman of the Jaycee Bootheel Rodeo. He was a member for over 40 years of the Sikeston Elks Lodge 2319 and was a past trustee. He formerly managed Mike’s Supply House in Sikeston and managed Babe Ruth League baseball teams for several years.
On May 29, 1950, in Clay County, Ark., he married Corrine L. Moulder who survives of the home.
Other survivors include: two daughters and sons-in-law, Deborah and Kenneth Owens Jr. of Millersburg and Davene and Terry Schaefer of Sikeston; two brothers, James C. Schaffer of Advance and John Thomas Schaffer of Memphis, Tenn.; one sister, Jacquelyn Crews of Memphis; and four grandchildren, Leslie Ballard of Gainesville, Fla., James N. Owens of Springfield and Martin Schaefer and Terri Schaefer of Sikeston.
One brother, Joe Daniel Schaffer; and one granddaughter, Elizabeth Larue Schaefer, preceded him in death.
Visitation will be from 5 to 8 p.m. Tuesday at the Nunnelee Funeral Chapel where services will be held at 11 a.m. Wednesday. The Rev. Ron Tate, pastor of First Assembly of God Church, will officiate.
Burial will follow in Garden of Memories Cemetery.
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Memorial contributions may be made to:
American Heart Association 460 N. Lindbergh Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63141 Paid obituary
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