I only wanted one thing for my 8th birthday. A dog. Instead, Dad got me an ostrich. An ostrich! How crazy. Why couldn’t I be like everybody else?

“How do you like your new pet, Aiden?” Dad asked at my party while leading the gigantic, brown, gangly bird into our family room on a leash.  I didn’t want to hurt Dad’s feelings, so I just smiled. He had been doing some strange things since Mom moved out. But, I was so embarrassed. None of my friends had such a strange pet. I wanted to disappear. How could I ever love an ostrich?

“Boys and girls, parents, and especially Aiden, I introduce you to Oomah the Ostrich,” announced Dad while holding the ostrich’s leash. “I adopted this stunning bird for Aiden from an organization that places retired, fully-trained circus animals in the care of willing families. I think you’ll find that Oomah is quite remarkable and not so different from other pets.” Some of my friends looked scared, parents whispered to each other with what appeared to be curiosity and wonderment. Everybody seemed thrilled…except me.

Once my guests left, Dad led Oomah out to our fenced-in backyard.  Her body was so wide that I wasn’t sure she would fit through our doors. A huge, soft silky feather fell to the floor in our kitchen. When Dad wasn’t looking, I put it in my box of treasures under my bed. Even though I had other feathers in there from a pillow fight, this one was the coolest.

“Welcome to the family, Oomah. Tomorrow morning, Aiden and I will take you for a walk in Golden Gate Park.” Oomah was actually taller than Dad. In fact, she was as tall as a basketball player. But then again, basketball players didn’t have wide bodies and tiny flat heads sitting on long, snake-like fuzzy necks.

While lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about how tomorrow, the entire world would see how ridiculous I looked walking my giant bird.

The next morning, I had hope that I dreamt of the entire feathered fiasco. However, while peaking out of my bedroom window, Oomah stood staring at me from the middle of my backyard.  Then, Oomah laid her flat, down-covered head onto the ground as if she knew I was watching. She looked so sad. Not only did Dad not get me a dog, he got me a depressed, gargantuan bird. Just what we needed…

“Put your sneakers on,” Dad said, “time to take Oomah for that walk.”

“Ostriches don’t know how to walk on leashes,” I said.

“This one does. Remember, the circus trained her. You’ll see how many amazing things she can do.”

Dad wasn’t wrong. Oomah walked with us as if she knew exactly where she was going. The long red leash wasn’t an issue.

Once we arrived in the park, Dad exclaimed, “Shoot, I forgot our bottled water! If you think you’re ok alone with Oomah, I’ll go buy some at the Turtle Pond cart. I’ll be right back.”

Oomah and I watched Dad walk away. I was more humiliated than scared. People were staring and laughing and pointing at us.

“Oomah, don’t move!” I urged. “We have to wait here for Dad.”  I believe Oomah gave me a mischievous yet depressed look at that moment. I noticed that she had eyelashes.

All of a sudden, Oomah lurched forward and started running towards a heavily wooded area. I lost my grip on her red leash, and tripped on a root while trying to run after her. I never knew how fast ostriches could run.

My cheeks burned. Tears welled up in my eyes. My knee was bleeding. Worst of all, I lost Oomah! What would Dad say?

I hobbled through the woods trying to follow Oomah’s tracks. Through a clearing, I spotted a group of people doing yoga.

“Excuse me,” I cried, “but have any of you seen an ostrich on a leash?”

“As a matter of fact, we have,” replied the yogi. “We were doing Salutation to the Sun, and the ostrich actually performed the series of movements like a pro. I’ve never seen anything like it. What flexibility! Afterwards, the bird ran in the direction of the frisbee field.”

“My ostrich is a retired circus performer, and I have to catch her. Thanks!”

While limping toward the frisbee field, I realized that a dog would never have done yoga. But then again, who ever heard of ostriches doing yoga.

Shouts of “Yahoo! Hooray! Check it out!” beckoned me closer to the field. A crowd of people formed a circle, and in the middle, I saw Oomah. The entertained frisbee players were taking turns throwing frisbees from far and wide, and Oomah caught each one in her beak. She looked happy!

“That’s my ostrich!” I shouted with pride, “please help me catch her!” The crowd looked at me with disbelief.  Worse, I startled Oomah, and she ran away from me once again.

People stood mesmerized, applauding Oomah. I could not get through the crowd quickly enough, and once again my feathered pet had gotten a head start worthy of an Olympic medal. After all, Oomah’s legs were practically taller than me.

“Oomah! Stay! Stay, girl!” I screamed.

“The kid thinks the bird is a dog,” someone blurted.

I wish, I thought.

Speaking of dogs, I realized that my quest for Oomah had now taken us to the fenced-in area where dogs were allowed to run free without their leashes. Once again, my ostrich was center stage, to the dismay of the shocked dog owners. A tiny dog chased after and yelped at my giant bird, and Oomah appeared to play along.  Once again, people in the park looked amused. Oomah made people smile and laugh in disbelief. Even though the dogs ran free, Oomah still had her leash on. Finally, the little dog caught Oomah’s leash in its mouth. The little dog’s owner then sprinted toward his pet and grabbed Oomah’s leash.

“Please don’t let go!” I screamed, “I’ve been chasing after my pet throughout the park!

“Will the ostrich hurt me or my dog?” asked the dog owner.

“No. She loves people, just like dogs do,” I surprised myself by saying.

I then remembered Oomah’s sad eyes staring up at me while she was alone in the center of my backyard this morning. She also seemed distraught when I tried to restrain her when Dad went to get water.  In fact, every time I tried to catch my ostrich, I found her in front of a crowd, and her demeanor was far from sad.

While I gazed at the playful, yelping dogs and then regarded my ostrich, I realized that I had the best, weirdest, and most fun pet of all. Now, I figured out how to keep her happy. As a retired circus animal, Oomah had been raised to perform. Letting her do what she loved to do not only made her vivacious, it made me more confident about being different. I decided that every weekend, I would allow Oomah to perform in Golden Gate Park. I could not wait to find Dad, tell him my plan, and make lots of new friends in Golden Gate Park.

I inhaled deeply. The air seemed thicker there, less penetrable. Somehow that air was indeed denser, even crowded, with the lingering salty taste and pinesap odor of slow summer days. How I remember our annual pilgrimages to Cape Cod’s prolific potter in Scargo Woods. Always behind his dirty wheel in his makeshift shed, his clay-encrusted fingers turned out splendiferous vases and bowls and mugs from slabs of gray clay. Upon his spinning wheel, I witnessed his graceful, strong hands transforming unsightly blobs of earth into velvety creations. He let me touch an unfinished bowl still on his wheel. I closed my eyes and my hand sank into cool, melting chocolate.

I waded through that humidity in search of cold, squishy frogs. I weaved in and out of the oak and pine trees. My white sandals left my toes vulnerable to the woods’ splinters. Seeking frog-whereabouts clues from the sudden ear twitches of the potter’s zaftig mancoon cat lazing about on the brown pine needles in the shade, I ran my hand through my hair. The dry clay from my fingers made my head itch.

My parents chose their treasures fresh from the potter’s kiln. From the woods outside, I heard the potter telling them with a reverent voice about his varying inspirations in choosing the rich blue that bordered a set of bowls. I anticipated hearing my father’s voice tell me later about the potter’s inspirations. Nobody knew that I overheard the conversation.

The vibrant orange of the fish in the koi pond, a few steps away from the cat, mimicked the colorful pottery placed strategically on scattered tree stumps. Frogless, I tried to touch a fish. The bright orange shininess of its scales looked smooth. While I did not succeed with the fish, I did get my hands wet from the pond’s cold water. Once again, I ran my fingers through my hair. This time, the wet clay from my hands soothed my itchy scalp. I tried to see my reflection in the pond to make sure my hair didn’t look too dirty. My bare knees sank into mud next to the pond. I quickly splashed water on my knees so that I would not get into trouble with my parents. The sound of the splash however betrayed my efforts. Not only did I see my Mom’s disappointed glance as she marched toward me but also I swallowed some muddy pond water.  The water did not taste fresh. It left some dirt in my mouth. I felt nauseous.

I heard the crackling tires of a car driving slowly down the pebbled road toward the potter’s studio. The wood-paneled station wagon stopped right beside my koi pond. I smelled cigarette smoke. A skinny freckled woman wearing nothing but a turquoise, one-piece bathing suit got out of the car and dropped her cigarette on the ground. I saw her walk towards the potter and give him a kiss. She had bare feet, so I stepped on her burning cigarette and burned the bottom of my sandals.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/alexis-genest/alexisgenest

My name is Alexis Genest. I am Karen’s husband. I stand before you today in grief, united with you in my desire to pay respects to Karen but also feeling an obligation to do so.

My wife Karen was the very essence of compassion, of generosity, of style, of beauty. She lived her life for the love of friends and family. She was shy and very smart.

Today, I want to take this chance to say thank you, Karen, for the way you brightened my live. I will feel cheated, always, that you were taken from me so young, and yet, I am so grateful that you came along at all. I want you to know that life without you is very, very difficult. But our love for each other is immortal.

Karen’s joy for life transmitted wherever she took her smile and I miss so much the sparkle in her unforgettable eyes when I made her happy.

I think Karen’s greatest gift was her intuition and it was a gift she used wisely. This is what underpinned all her other wonderful attributes. She always had an instinctive feel about the goodness in people and for what was really important in our lives.

Another truth about Karen is that she remained throughout a very insecure person at heart, almost childlike in her desire to do good for others. People who knew her well sensed this part of her character and cherished her for her vulnerability while admiring her for her honesty.

There are days and event in our life together I will always treasure. For example, one day of summer 1995 in Cape Cod is, as Karen called it, when “Pois was born”. Karen was swimming in the Ocean and for the first time she called me Pois. This was a nickname she used to call me ever since. It means Pea in French. And she became my Pea. One of our secrets was that on the inside of our wedding rings you can read: Pea & Pois, Sept. 1, 1996.

Another great memory is the day our 2 cats Loulou and Lili had 5 kittens. Karen always loved her pets. I promised her to take good care of Loulou, Lili, and Sam.

What some of you may not know is that Karen was an early technology adopter. In 1994, when we moved in together, she was already using extensively the Internet and taking digital pictures. No wonder she ended up working for a subsidiary of amazon.com. Before anyone else I knew had one, she offered me a Tivo controller and later on an iPod… She loved Tivo and good music.

What you all know is that Karen lost her battle with cancer after a courageous fight for almost 4 years. During those years, she was so strong for me. She didn't want me or her family and friends to hurt. I admired, loved and will miss my wife’s strength. On the morning of her last day, I got emotional and made the mistake to cry in front of her. I call it a mistake because I got in a lot of trouble from her! She told me to cheel-out! She told me to be strong! Then she also told me again how much she loved me. And she told me that I would have to move on with my life and have childrens, … and that I would be a wonderful father. I hesitated to share this information with all of you, but finally decided to do it because it really helps illustrate how amazing and caring she was.

That night, we expressed again our love to each other before she started to sleep. When she took her last breath I was holding her hand, telling her how much I love her, and the song “without you” was playing in the background. The following sentence from this song “I can’t give, I can’t give anymore” is stuck forever in my mind. I will always wonder if she waited for this song to play on our iPod. In any case, I want to tell Karen this: “It’s OK. You gave us so much already...” Also, “I will learn not to be sad, because you told me that when I am sad it makes you sad. Don’t worry, everyone will end-up remembering you as you wanted, beautiful and joyful. You brought true love to my live and you forever make me want to be a better person.”

I would like to end by thanking all of you for being here today. It means everything. I want to thank especially my French and American families for their great support, and finally I want to thank my wife Karen whose beauty, both internal and external, will never be extinguished from our minds.