Today is Dec.29, 2011. A rerun of the past year is playing in my mind. Plans for 2012 are jotted on paper, places to go, people to meet are added daily. Sketches of the room we intend to build in the Spring, hang on imaginary cork boards in my mind. I am excited about the New Year.
However, today started out a little bit on the rocky side. As soon as the coffee brewed, I sat down at my computer to chat with friends and family. The first news story I read concerns a man in Delhi, India who was hospitalized with some sickness. While he slept, or tried to sleep, a rat chewed off part of his penis, causing him to die! This was horrible.
My mind's eye, always has a mini movie, story or blog running around in there, grabbed onto this story and would not let it go. I received visual, after visual, after visual of this heinous act...in color and with music.
Finally, I was ready to mentally release that particular news story when I read another article about a "preacher" who wants all homosexuals executed!!! To say my blood boiled would be an understatement!
Our youngest daughter, Melodi is gay. We were shocked when we learned this truth. It caused major upheavals in everyone's life. No one knew what to do for sure. I knew that I loved Melodi, no matter what and I also knew the war was on in our family.
I have fought this battle for over 13 years. I have fought with Tommy, I have fought with Melodi, I have fought with God, and I have fought with the church.
I nearly lost Tommy due to our inability to compromise and accept what cannot be changed. We lost 10 years of Melodi's life. We saw her but not regularly and no where near enough. I didn't loose God but I did loose my desire to go to church. My pastor was wonderful and supportive to us, he never let us down. I had just had enough and could hear no more. I was on the run.
I got my family back over the course of the last few years. It is wonderful and I am a blessed, happy woman and mother. Love should know no boundaries.
.
I love my youngest daughter beyond measure. Her sexual preference is her business and is one small part of who she is as woman. She does not parade it around, nor does she deny it. This is simply who she is.
Nearly everyone I know enjoys sex!! It is a part of human nature. Since when do preachers decide who lives and who dies according to their sexual preferences?? Is this really what we want in America???
I've read the Bible through and through several times, looking for answers. I know what it says. I also know that in the end,when push comes to shove, the ONLY thing that will keep you from the love of God, is not believing in Him and not accepting Him as your Savior. He will take care of the rest.
His love covers a multitude of sins. I am counting on that 100%, because right now I know a prick in America that needs to meet a rat in Delhi!! As far as I am concerned they need to spend some quality time together. Am I right to feel this way? Probably not, but then the preacher never met my daughter, her partner or thousands of other people who do not meet his qualifications to live.
Unless you have loved someone who is gay or lesbian you really cannot know the emotions and feelings that are generated. There is no way you can. Until then...
This is one of those days when my computer is PMSing really bad, OR worse case scenario, I have unknowingly hit a button somewhere and really messed this whole thing up!!! I am under orders from Tami to write some kind of blog ...fast and see if it can be posted.
I cannot post a blog from yesterday!!! Tami can post the same blog under her name without any problem. When I try, the darn thing sits there like a knot on a log. It does nothing!! I am beside myself, to put it mildly.
Every so often this happens. My computer becomes an alien and tries to cause me mental anguish!! It's not the computer---it's me I am sure. It supposedly does what I tell it to do. That is such a lie!!! My computer only does what I tell it to do, If she feels like it!!!! Apparently my computer also known as "the Heifer" is sensitive.....to my rantings about "Her". She takes things personally. Get over it!!! I have work to do.
If that is the case, and everything I have written is true, and it is----my computer is somewhere in Hell, burning it's computer generated ass all to beans!!! I know this is a possible fact, because I sent "her" there.
I was supposed to write something and try and post it. So here it is!!!! Temper tantrum and all!!!
Every now and then I go a little crazy!!!! Today is such a day. In fact, I may write a blog about this very fact. There are a few things I have been holding out on you and that little tid bit is one of them. Trust me----I can explain it all.
I spent last week with my daughter Tami and my grandchildren Jacy and Logan. I kept the kids entertained while Tami studied for her finals. Tami is going to college on line, to obtain her degree in "Business Management". My stay was a success because Tami made A's on both her classes.
One of the major things we did was to paint a mural on the kids bathroom wall. For months we have planned to do this. Tami found a shower curtain covered in monkeys, this would be our "inspiration". All we had to do was create the same effect on one blue wall. Sounds easy. It was far from it.
When anyone draws or paints for children, be ready to hear the brutal truth!!! Children usually say exactly what they are thinking. I sketched the scene on the wall before we started to paint, just to make sure the scene suited the kids. It did. Except for one tiny, minor flaw in the wall. There were 2 holes where a shelf had hung. In my mind, I could fill the holes with paint or tape and it would somehow magically disappear. Wrong!!!!
Not only did it not disappear, it stood out like a carrot stuck in the middle of a bowl of gravy!!! There was no blending at all. Next I had the bright idea to stuff the holes with toilet paper and then paint over it. In theory, it should work----In reality not by a long shot. The toilet paper fell into the hole when it got wet.
I know how to fix walls with putty, mud and tape. However, that takes time and I wanted it to be done that day, so we could paint.....so did Jacy and Logan. Instant gratification gets me every time!
When I picked the kids up from school they wanted to know if their part was ready to paint. I told them about the holes and that we could fix it fast if we put band aids on them. We would just pretend the monkey fell and had a boo boo. They had no problem with that. So off to Dollar General we go. We were on a mission. A two dollar trip turned into a $40 dollar field day. We had to have the "perfect" band aid. Finally they settled on "Charlie Brown" band aids. Then we had to have chips, gum, drinks, cookies, and a plastic gun.....I have no clue what the gun was for or where it went. It did not make the ride home with us. We also stopped at McDonald's ---that might be where we lost the gun!
While this painting is far from perfect, we had a great time creating our "work of art". We made some memories, that I hope last a lifetime. Someday when Jacy and Logan are grown, perhaps one of their children will want a mural painted on a wall in their house. They can then tell the story of how they painted monkeys on their bathroom wall with their Nonnie. Maybe that will lead to more stories of Tommy and me. I hope so. When push comes to shove life is really and truly about our memories. Never pass up a chance to make a memory with someone you love. You never know who will hear that story.
One week from today is Christmas. Presents have been purchased, wrapped and placed under the tree. Cookies, candies and coconut cakes were made and delivered to friends and family.
Christmas carols are playing on the radio. In most homes the Christmas tree has been decorated with memories from past Christmas's. The house smells of Christmas candles. Scents we can only buy this time of year. The postman has delivered Christmas cards almost daily, from friends and family all over the world. It is a time of magic and love mixed with a heaping spoonful of stress.
Depending on our personalities, we work for months, weeks, or days to get ready for Christmas. This year I am in the "weeks" category, perhaps even leaning heavy toward the "days" category. I have had trouble getting ready for Christmas. I have the "Christmas Spirit" as we say in Kentucky, but I am spinning my wheels more than usual.
I know it will all get done. I am just not sure when it will all get done! I have no excuses this year. I am not working, so my time is my own. And still I drug my feet just a little. Something was missing in me.
I felt somewhat out of sorts until I received a Christmas card from Salla, in Finland. It is a beautiful card, made even more special by the fact that it was created by an artist who could not use their hands to paint. They relied on either their mouths or feet to create this lovely card. The painting is beautiful and ascetically correct, defying logic with every stroke.
I look at it and I am reminded over and over again that "nothing is impossible with God". With every brush stroke, He was there. Guiding the toes or the lips, to do things they were not created to accomplish. Giving life to works of art that can only sing His praises. This is why we celebrate Christmas. .. because He did for us what we could not do for ourselves. If we celebrate it for any other reason, we have short changed ourselves and Him.
I needed to be reminded of this fact. This was "what" was missing in me.
Enjoy this coming week my friends. Make lots of memories and love the very best you can. I wish you all love everlasting and a strong touch from the Master, Himself. May all your Christmas dreams come true. I will be thinking about each of you.
Love to all,
Vicky
Today is a gray, wet, sunless kind of day. We had thunderstorms during the night. The thunder rolled and sounded like bombs exploding, while the lightning crackled and ripped the sky apart.
My granddaughter Jacy is afraid of storms. I usually sleep with her when I stay at Tami's but last night I slept in Logan's bed. He was sleeping in Tami's bed. Since I had stayed up late reading, Jacy had fallen asleep on my side of the bed. I didn't want to wake Jacy up so I just crawled in Logan's bed and slept fine until the storm started.
I heard the storm in my sleep but I could not wake up. Finally after a huge clap of thunder shook the house, I was awake. I ran to Jacy's room and jumped in bed...so did Max, their dog. We landed just about the same time. Jacy was awake, big brown eyes and a mess of curls was all I could see. When she heard the thunder hammer her home, she covered her head. Max made a beeline for her pillow and I grabbed the only one left. Both Max and myself surrounded Jacy. It made her feel safe and in a matter of minutes Jacy was sleeping. Max and I had dropped off to sleep, when the next round of storms began. Evidently, I moved to much for Max because he gave a snort in my direction and left for Tami's room.
By this time I am awake and in dire need of coffee. As I sat on the couch and enjoyed the storm and hot coffee, I saw Jacy run across the hall and jump in Tami's bed. By now the bed is full.....and soon it will be time for everyone to get up. I just smiled. I remembered those days, when my girls were small and they all piled in someone's bed. Usually it was Lisa's bed. I would already be up, getting ready for work.
We had one bathroom and 3 girls to share it in the mornings. They caught the bus at 7:10. Not a lot of time to goof off but just enough time for World War 111 to start---almost every day---without fail. They never missed the bus---how I will never know!! They weren't exactly happy campers but they were dressed and out the door when the bus pulled to a stop at our driveway.
As they trudged to the bus, it looked like a long funeral procession. Each daughter was the stair step for the next daughter. First Lisa, then Tami and finally Melodi. Mel was followed by a dog or 2 and at least 1 cat and at times a chicken or two. Just whatever was loose and roaming the yard when the girls came out the back door.
Those are good memories for me, probably not for them. They are all in the midst of making their own memories now. Each has their own home, accompanied by their own routines. I love to sit and watch them just be themselves. It is comforting to watch my daughters, marveling at the amazing young women they have become. I intend to share these moments every chance I get.
I have to keep one thought in mind, not everyone I know and love happens to be a "morning person" and that is not a bad thing at all. They just need a little extra time and space, while waiting for their day to begin.
I have always loved Christmas. When I was a little girl, I decided I wanted a Christmas wedding. I wanted the bridesmaids to wear red velvet dresses, carry white fur muffs and walk down our church isle in the midst of mistletoe and holly. I dreamed of a candlelight wedding, at sunset.
I didn't know who the groom would be, however I was pretty sure he would have black hair and brown eyes and if he had Indian blood in him that would be perfect!!! I put my order in for him when I was about 9 years old. It took 12 years for him to grow up, fall in love with me and ask me to marry him. All the time he was hiding in plain sight, as one of my best friends.
Tommy and I usually sat close to each other in class. We were forever getting caught talking or writing notes to each other. Having to write 500 times the sentence, "I will not talk in class" became the norm for me. I usually got caught talking on Fridays, because we had weekend plans to talk about, even though the plans we had, did not include each other. Mama could not understand why I had so much writing to do on the weekend. She thought it was awful I had to "study" so hard. So did I!!!
Time went by and we grew up. We fell in love and made plans to marry. I was going to college while Tommy was in the Marine Corps, stationed in Georgia at the time he proposed. At first we were getting married in June. That was fine with me, however I really wanted a Christmas wedding. Little did I know what I was asking when I suggested a December wedding. My poor mother almost had a nervous breakdown trying to get things arranged for us.
The weather would not cooperate at all. Winters in Kentucky are very unpredictable. As a rule, we didn't get a lot of snow, but when it snowed ---we were hammered. Everything would come to a standstill for several days. 1969 was no exception.
As Tommy and I planned the wedding, we decided we wanted a military wedding. Tommy wore his dress blues. Danny Joe King was best man, he was stationed at Ft. Campbell, having just returned home from Vietnam. Joe Neal, Tommy's brother was in the Army also and was home on leave before going to Vietnam. They were beautiful young men. All dressed up in their military best. I was so proud of them. As I walked down the isle, I remember thinking they "didn't look real, but instead looked like handsome dolls".
We set the date for December 26 at 4 p.m. The wedding would be in my church, The First Methodist Church, in Clinton.
Kathy Pulley McClure was to be my matron of honor and Jenny Cline was a bridesmaid. I had roomed with Jenny in college and we were very good friends. Kathy had been my best friend for years. I loved her dearly....still do.
Kathy tried to give me a shower the Sunday before the wedding, but unfortunately it started snowing that morning and did not quit for 2 days. The winds blew and the snow drifted. Roads were impassable. We called the shower off, it was too dangerous for anyone to try and come. This was the beginning of the week from Hell!!!
As the wedding plans unfolded, things out of our control began to pop up. The minister, Rev. Deal and his family spent Christmas with his daughter in Memphis. Snow made the roads treacherous to drive on and I worried for 2 days afraid the minister could not make it safely home. He barely made it there, but that was fine--he was there.
Aunt Donna came down with a bad case of laryngitis. She was supposed to sing for us. She started getting sick on Monday and by Wednesday couldn't talk--the wedding was Friday. I so love Aunt Donna, she did everything known to man to get well. It worked. Friday she sang my favorite wedding song, "Whether Thou Goest" perfectly.
At the last minute the Army almost canceled Danny Joe's leave. He got to Clinton the day of the wedding.
Kathy and her husband had an argument and were mad all week at each other. It was their first Christmas together and James was acting awful. I was just sick. I didn't want them arguing over my wedding, but they were. Jim refused to come to the wedding if Danny and Kathy were going to walk down the isle together. Of course they were----she was my matron of honor and Danny was the best man. He would escort her down the isle when the wedding was over. All this garbage because Danny and Kathy went together in high school.....four years in the past!
They made up on Thursday night. Kathy called me and said "no matter what she would be there". She assured me James would be there too. I wasn't thrilled with him as it was, however he came to the wedding and even congratulated us and gave me a hug.
When I woke up on the 26th, I was a nervous wreck--it had snowed again. Tommy had to get to Clinton from Union City. The roads once again were a mess!!! He made it without any problems.
On Christmas Eve, Bobby Brunswick's sister and her husband were killed in a car wreck. They were going to pick up their children's Christmas layaway. While we were having a wedding, Bobby and Bonnie were attending a funeral. It was so sad to think of the loss of this young couple. I didn't know them personally but on my anniversary, I always remember them.
The day turned out to be beautiful. After lunch the sun came out, most of the roads were clear by 4 p.m. Darla spent the day with me and we played with a kitten all day. I think Darla took her home to her house. I almost took her to Georgia with us. I am glad I rethought that idea. A kitten on a honeymoon might not be the wisest thing to have. Two months later, Tommy bought home a surprise from work. A tiny black and white kitten, we named P.J. She was our first pet.
At 4 p.m. the wedding started. The sun was shining on the snow and looked like diamonds scattered across the grass. The church was beautiful. It was exactly the candlelight wedding I had always wanted. As we stood under the arch and said our vows, the sun was in the process of setting. It cast subtle light on the stained glass windows. It was lovely. Soon the wedding was over and we were man and wife----for the rest of our lives.
The reception was in the church's basement. It was decorated beautifully. After cake and punch we left for Georgia. Our first apartment was waiting for us. I couldn't hardly wait to see our first home. We laugh now, because an 8 hour drive took us 3 days!!! And that was a good thing too.
It has been one heck of a good time. There are things in hindsight we would change, but not an awful lot of regrets. It has been a good life and we have been greatly blessed. This year we celebrate our 42 year of marriage. In this day and age, that says a lot.
Both of us are excited about the future. We still have a million plans and ideas. Places to go and new people to meet. I wouldn't have missed this for all the world. I am pretty sure Tommy feels the same way.
I hurt!!! I pulled the muscle in my shoulder about a month ago and I have been in pain since that day. Non stop pain. It doesn't matter what I do or take, the pain is still there. I am finally going to the doctor tomorrow, hopefully she will be able to help me.....because no one else will!!!
It was a freak accident that caused all this pain. Deer season was in and we were getting up extremely early so Tommy could hunt. One morning I slept in and missed Tommy's leaving. Apparently he could not find his insulators and moved the coat tree into the middle of the floor. When I finally got up, I tried to move the hall tree with one arm, since my coffee was in the other hand. No way was I putting the coffee down. As a result, when the coat rack fell, I grabbed it with one hand and in the process pulled my shoulder muscle---bad. But on the good side---I did not spill one drop of coffee. I really needed that cup of coffee, especially since I was crying and having a fit just like a little girl!!! Only most little girls do not have as colorful a vocabulary as I do. And that is a good thing.
I hate to cry and I really hate to hurt. I did everything I could to fix the problem. I put ice on it, I put heat on it, I put Ben Gay on it and nothing fazed it. I even took a muscle relaxer. The muscle relaxer was from 2009 and was useless. The Ben Gay was put in the wrong spot, because I couldn't reach the right spot.
Here is where my better half, Tommy, was needed. I asked him to put Ben Gay on my back and he said he couldn't he was hunting. My jaw dropped open. I asked him why he couldn't, his reasoning was and I quote, "because I am hunting"
I told him "Tommy you aren't hunting now!!! You are watching t.v."
He said, "yes, but I will be hunting tomorrow and that stuff stinks."
I told him the smell would be gone, he could shower and the deer would never know. He looked at me like I was crazy!!! He said, "Seriously, I hate the smell of that shit!!" This comes from a man who wears doe piss to cover his scent in the woods and he hates the smell of Ben Gay!!! Unbelievable!
I had to stoop to what I call "dirty pool". I brought up every time I have come to his aide and helped him when he could not help himself. It worked--- barely. When he finally put the Ben Gay on, he took one finger and gagged when I squirted the balm on his finger, he then barely dabbed my sore shoulder. Immediately he gave the tube back, saying "that is enough----you will be fine"
I was not FINE! I asked him to rub it in and do it hard so it could be absorbed. He looked at me like I had asked him to amputate my arm. I turn back around and wait. And I wait and then I wait some more!! I looked at him and he was back to watching t.v. He was done.
I was trying to think how to get this mess taken care of by myself. Finally, I remember I had a long wooden back scratcher and if I turned it on the back of the scratcher I could put the Ben Gay on it and hit the right spot. It worked!!! Hallelujah!!
I hate going to the doctor. I put it off as long as possible and finally gave in and made an appointment for Thursday. To be fair, Tommy has wanted me to go to the doctor all along. I kept thinking my shoulder would get better. Evidently, I was wrong.
My doctor checked my shoulder and said I needed a stronger muscle relaxer. She told me to exercise it and to use Ben Gay and to get some massages.
I laughed when she said that. I told her what was going on and she laughed.....she knows Tommy and really likes him. Then she gave me the ammunition I needed to get the daily massages......It cost $35.00 for an upper body massage---I need several and he will not want to fork out the money for at least 5 massages. WhoHoo!!!! Tonight I get my first massage---I bought a new tube of Ben Gay---I am so gonna enjoy this!!! As for Tommy, well he agreed. He is not happy but he agreed. That is all I ask....
Today was an odd sort of day. I went Christmas shopping and only bought two presents. I saw a lot of "things" but nothing that really caught my eye. Very little followed me home. For me that is unusual.
When I returned home I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. I wasn't hungry, wasn't tired and didn't want to do any work. I ended up in my art room. I can always find something to do in there. Today was no exception, soon I was lost in pictures and old journals.
I sat down in the middle of my "mess" and had a visit with Mama.
I revisited the Christmas of 2006. It was a good visit or as good as it could be considering Mama was in a nursing home and was slowly loosing her mind to Alzheimer's. Daddy was trying his best to spend as much time with Mama as possible. Eventually he had his schedule worked out to where he spent at least 8 hours with Mama every day. It wore him out. I was 350 miles away and still working full time. I could make it home once a month and stay about 5 days. That rested Daddy some, but not enough. It was an odd time in our lives. A time I would not want to relive, yet here I sat in the middle of my floor, remembering the Christmas of 2006.
If a person has to be in a nursing home, then ICF in Clinton, Kentucky is the place to be. Mama was content to be there, at that point in her life.
When Mama entered the nursing home she was given a life size baby doll. It brought Mama more joy than any diamond she ever owned. She loved that doll. It was real to Mama and while I was with Mama she was almost real to me. I found myself taking care of the baby like I would a child. If Mama laid her down, I would go find her...fast! The "baby" was seldom out of her arms. When she was misplaced, I was on the hunt for the baby.
I shopped for the baby. Mama had long sense lost any interest in clothing for herself, but she was delighted when her "baby" received a new outfit. I kept that baby dressed to the nines. It was an odd pleasure for me, a gift I could still share with Mama.
Mama was continually giving her "baby" kisses. I saw small glimpses of what a good, young mother she must have been. I liked what I saw. No wonder I am such an incurable romantic, I was surrounded by love at an early age. And that is a good thing a very good thing indeed. Every child should be so blessed.
I finally put our Christmas tree up this morning. I did it while Tommy slept. There was Christmas music playing instead of a football game. No one got mad, because the tree was crooked or in the wrong place. No sharp words were exchanged because one of us missed a touchdown while the tree was being assembled. Everything went smoothly and fast, it was nice, but not what I call fun at all!!! However, over the years I have gotten used to this. Sometimes a person just has to make their own fun....alone.
I have always had a Christmas fantasy concerning putting up the Christmas tree. I wanted it to be a memorable, fun time for family and friends.
I wanted a party!! All the family would attend. We would wear our best clothes and bring our favorite dishes for the buffet.
The house would be lit with dozens of candles. The smell of apple cinnamon and pine tree needles would fill the air. There would be a live tree standing tall, full and regal.
The tree would be up and waiting for the guests.
Each person would put their own ornament on the tree. An ornament from some special time in their life. Stories would be told as memories were added to the tree. Pictures would be taken of friends and family as they shared bits and pieces of their lives with each other. Christmas magic would permeate the air.
Christmas music would be playing in the background. All our favorite songs would float among our guests.
As soon as the tree was finally decorated and pictures had been made, we would share a toast to each other.
There would be laughter, hugs and kisses under the mistletoe. We would eat from the buffet and maybe dance. Everyone would have a good time.
It would be a perfect night, a perfect way to start the holiday season. However, this is a scene from the soap opera "Days of Our Lives" and not my life at all. My fantasy for sure, but not my life.
We have never put up a Christmas tree in this fashion. We have done every thing else imaginable but not this. I remember Tommy and me hiking through our neighbor's woods to find the perfect tree and getting lost!! We spent two hours walking aimlessly until we finally spotted our home.
Another time we were once again in the woods, getting our tree, when the neighbors pit bull honed in on us with a vengeance. We escaped with the tree and our butts in tact. However, the tree suffered quite a bit of damage in our run for our lives. We had to shape it up and in the process cut too much off. The poor tree could barely stand alone in the bucket.
The girls didn't want anyone to see that tree!!! Neither did I. Tommy offered to buy us a real tree, but we worked hard on that tree and we kept it. It was a memory maker for sure. Ugly, but a memory maker none the less.
That was our last real tree. No more would we have to worry about freezing to death in the woods, or arguing over who drug the tree and who packed the ax. Both weighed a ton by the time we reached the house.
Tommy always worked the 11-7 shift at the Fulton Reception and Diagnostic Prison. He would get up early to spend time with us and then catch a nap before work. Half way through decorating the tree, Tommy would go to bed. He'd give me a kiss and say he "would see the tree when he got up". The girls and I would then finish the tree. We usually made fudge and cookies earlier in the day.
We would light the tree and eat all sorts of good treats while the Christmas music played. It was fun while it lasted. But kids grow up, and get lives of their own. Just the way it is supposed to be.
When the girls started dating, some young man would call and they would be gone in 30 minutes, or one of them would have to work and Melodi and I would finish the tree. Tommy would be asleep, it would be ready when he woke up.
The girls left, one at a time, and for the past 17 years, I have put the tree up by myself. Finally, it became the norm. When it is all done, I turn off the lights and plug in the tree. I sit there in the dark, drinking coffee, listening to Christmas music and remembering other Christmas seasons. While I miss the girls, I enjoy remembering stories of Christmas' when they were young. It is a very special time for me.
This is a ritual I do every day until Christmas is over. I enjoy the tree, it is my favorite part of Christmas. Over the years, I have become jealous of my morning time.
As for the fantasy, well I still have it, but in reality it is not going to happen. It is a fantasy and fantasy's seldom come true. That is not a bad thing either.
We need dreams, as long as we remember to be very thankful for all the truths and love we actually have in our lives. As long as we remember what is real and appreciate its existence.
Somewhere in my slumber I hear a name, feel an urge, know a memory.
Something wants out, to be put on display, written and acknowledged.
Waking slowly, I slip out of bed unsure of what my mind is thinking.
My mind's eye is in charge--our muse is dancing, she is laughing, gleefully dictating words that I do not speak, talking faster than I can write. The party has already started. I am the last to arrive.
The mind races trying to keep up with the band. I hear a perfect sentence and in a second it is gone. I need that sentence, but it is gone...I can't conjure it up. It is out of reach but still close. It refuses to budge. It dances with my muse in the fringes of my imagination, just out of reach, only vaguely familiar.
Elusive, fleeting, fading.....then gone.
With it goes my story.
Creatures who will never breathe, never live and never die, unless I say so, are gone.
Sobering thought. Followed by a sigh, a yawn and the promise of sleep.
The story escaped tonight.
Crawling back into bed, trying to remember and failing miserably, it is released. I yearn for sleep, knowing it will not come easy or fast.
Muse have fun!
Another time, please make it soon.
Our first Thanksgiving as a married couple was in 1970. Tommy was in the Marines and we were stationed in Yuma, Arizona. We were 2,000 miles away from home. I was 8 months pregnant with our first daughter, Lisa....and we were broke.
When you only get $97.00 every two weeks and a $100.00 allotment and the rent is $140.00 a month, there is no extra money. Of course things were cheaper then. Utilities were included in the rent. Gas was 25 cents a gallon and our car was paid for. I had received it for graduation. Mama and Daddy officially gave it to us when we got married.
The only debt we had was my wedding rings. I think they were $15.00 a month for two years. We were kids. We were in love and money or the lack of money did not bother us at all. UNTIL November rolled around and we couldn't afford a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.
If we had a turkey, I wouldn't have known how to cook it. But that was beside the point, we wanted a turkey and dressing with all the trimmings.
We didn't want anyone to know that we had run out of money and were flat broke. That was embarrassing to us, so we agreed not to tell anyone back home.
I remember my mother was scared I was going to kill us with food poisoning. She would call and ask me how I was fixing the turkey. She was so relieved when I told her we were having dinner with friends, and that Shirley was cooking the turkey. I didn't tell Mama that Shirley couldn't cook, either.
Enter Brooks and Shirley, friends in the Marine Corps with us. They were broke too!! However, they had a turkey breast in the freezer and said if we could bring the rest of dinner, they would fix the turkey. We decided to have the dinner at our apartment, because we had more room than they did.
This was a deal neither of us could pass up. Shirley and I planned the menu. On paper it sounded delicious. In person it was far from delicious, but it was fun!!
I was supposed to make the dressing. Only problem was, I had never made dressing before. Tommy and I cooked it together. He grew up cooking so he helped me all the time. All things considered, it tasted pretty good. I forgot to put celery in it and I added too much sage but we ate it and no one died. That was a relief. We also had canned green beans, candid yams, corn and dinner rolls. I made a chocolate pie that we had to eat with spoons. It never did get thick.
Shirley didn't know exactly how long to cook the breast and it was a little on the dry side. It was a lot on the dry side. We just added gravy and wolfed it down. We had a good time and laughed all through the meal. Compliments were flowing, like we were dining at a four star restaurant.
We ate by candlelight. The candles were red and from our Christmas wedding the year before. Our table was barely big enough for four people to be seated in comfort. One of the legs was propped up on a Sears catalog. Music was playing in the background. It was delightful.
Later, we all drove out to the desert to watch the sun set. The heat was bearable then...even pleasant. Sometimes there would be a chill in the air late at night, but not that night. The colors of the sunset complimented the earth.
A desert sunset is remarkable. It looks as though you can see forever. The cactus and sagebrush take on a completely different look, almost eerie, as the sun goes down.
We sat on the hood of our car and wished on stars as they appeared in the night sky. No one told their wishes, if we did they wouldn't come true.
I remember my wish....I wanted to be a good cook and to be one soon. It came true, but it didn't come easy or fast. It was a learning process and one filled with so many goofs, unexpected tastes and smells, stories and laughs. I learned that I cannot bake fish and a cake at the same time. It is impossible to tell which one you are eating. The cake tastes like fish and the fish smells like cake.
In hindsight, I wouldn't have had it any other way. The stories, the memories were the best part of a life long learning experience. One that keeps on going until today.
In every person's life, there are days that will always be remembered. All any stranger or friend needs to say is, "Where were you when President Kennedy was assassinated?" Instantly a vivid story comes to mind.
It was Friday, November 22,1963. I was a freshman in high school. We had just finished lunch and were sitting in Mrs. Walker's English class.
I remember the day was cool and the sun was shining. My seat in class was the last row, second seat from the front, by the wall of windows. I was sitting in front of Tommy. Mrs. Walker was at the chalk board writing, when our class door opened. Mr. Phillips, our principal said, "The President has been shot in Dallas." There was a low murmur in the room from the students. Disbelief was a tangible blanket in the air. Shock, an emotion most of us knew little or nothing about had spread across the room in an instant.
Mrs. Walker sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands. I think she was praying, I know she cried. I turned around and asked Tommy if Mr. Phillips, said the President was "shot or dead". He wasn't sure either.
I have no memories of school for the rest of the day. I think we were dismissed early but I am not sure...the more I think about it we probably stayed in school. Our day was almost over. I do remember racing to my grandmother's home as soon as I could. Mamamae was watching the news, as I walked in the house. Neither of us could believe what our eyes were seeing. By the time I reached home, it was confirmed---- the President was dead.
The televisions at that time were in black and white with small 19 inch screens. The news coverage was nonstop. The police, FBI and CIA were looking for the assassin or assassins. The news commentators were filled with emotion as they reported the rapidly changing news.
America was glued to the tube. In our small town, it was announced that the churches would be open to the public 24 hours a day, for those needing to go there and pray. Mamamae and I went several times.
At home, we sat in awe and with tears flowing as replays of the day were shown. We saw Jackie Kennedy and our hearts went out to her. There were no political lines drawn in the sand. We grieved with her, and for our First Lady and her children.
We watched as Lyndon Johnson was sworn into office aboard Air Force One as President Kennedy's body was being transported to Washington, D.C.
We were stunned when Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested for the assassination. We, as a people, could not get enough information fast enough. There were special edition papers printed to keep up with the influx of news stories. History was playing out in front of our eyes. None of us were prepared for what was happening in our country.
I went to Sunday School the following Sunday. I came home to see what had happened while I was in church. Oswald had been arrested earlier and was being transfered around noon. I wanted to see this. I turned on the t.v. in time to see Oswald being escorted down a long hallway. A man steps out, Jack Ruby, and shoots Oswald dead. I thought I would throw up. Mamamae came into the room and said we needed to get back to church. That was the first time I ever told an adult, "No". Then I explained what I had just seen. Mamamae's face turned ashen. She reached out and hugged me. We then silently turned and sat down on the couch. Our minds trying to absorb what our eyes were seeing.
It was a time of passion and love for the Kennedy family. A time of disbelief for our nation. People cried openly and unabashedly. We were a nation grieving. It took a long time for our country to heal.
The unimaginable had happened for the second time in our history. Only this time we witnessed it all. It happened not in history, a hundred years ago like it did with President Lincoln, but right in front of our eyes. It was too much to absorb, however we did absorb it. We watched, we prayed, we cried. We had our own conspiracy theories taking shape in our minds. As a nation we pulled together, as Americans always do, when disaster strikes. However, none of us remain unchanged. We all have a personal story to tell about that strange time in our lives. This one is mine.
Yesterday was the first day of "deer season". For the next 9 days, the woods will be alive with hunters, trying their best to shoot a deer. My husband loves this time of year. His only regret is that, I do not like to hunt. He would give anything if I did, but I don't. For years he made me go with him at least once a season. Once was usually enough, for both of us!!!
I am not a hunter. If we were starving I could kill a deer, field dress it and have no qualms. But we are not starving and I don't want to hunt. That is not my idea of fun.
The first time we went hunting was about 25 years ago. We had scouted the place out. My tree had been picked where I was supposed to shoot a 10 pointer. Right!!! My gun was spot on, no chance of me missing. Right!!!! All I needed was a good deer stand.
I told Tommy what I wanted and he said "No problem". He would make sure it was safe, not too high up in the tree and had a railing around it so I wouldn't fall out. That isn't a lot to ask and I felt sure everything would be fine. I should have checked out the deer stand before opening day. My idea of "safe" and his are two completely different versions of reality!!
My idea of a deer stand is what Tommy calls a "penthouse". It has a floor, railings and a seat---that's it. So why was I so surprised on opening day when I go to my stand and see where I am supposed to spend the next week? Tommy told me that I would "love" my stand, not to worry that he had it fixed perfect. I should have had him define "perfect" a little better.
We get there before daylight. All the while he is telling me again what to do if I get a shot at a deer. I am dressed in his camo and wearing a pair of his boots that are a couple sizes too big. I am anything but quiet as we walk through the woods.
When I first see the stand, I can't see it at all----it is that high up in the tree. Tommy has hammered spikes in the tree for me to climb on to reach my stand. They are about 2 feet apart until the last one and it is at least 3 feet to the stand. I don't want to climb this tree. However, somewhere between the truck and the tree, I lost my right to protest. According to Tommy, I was climbing the tree and I would like my deer stand and I would get a deer. Well alrighty then......we shall see!!!
As I am climbing the tree, Tommy is waiting down below to make sure I make it and to hand me my gun. I get to the last spike and can't reach the deer stand!!! I am afraid to move. I have all the clothes on in the world, and I can't get my leg up 3 feet to the last branch where the stand rests. I need another spike. That is when Tommy informs me "there are no more spikes. He has used them all and ran out before he got through". I knew then we were not going to have any sort "of bonding experience".
Tommy keeps telling me to "Move" and I stay silently still right where I stopped. Finally he comes up the tree and starts pushing on my butt to make me go up the tree. So I moved!! It was either that or get pushed out of the tree!!!
Finally, I get up to the stand only to balk again. Somewhere there had been a huge communication gap in what a "penthouse" deer stand resembled and what Tommy actually built. And I use the word "built" very loosely. Tommy's idea was, one board placed across two tree limbs with a white bucket to sit on and a 2 x4 nailed in front for me to place my rifle on. That was my "penthouse"!!!
I wanted to go home but knew better than mention that little point. Tommy hands me my rifle and tells me to have a" good time." His parting words were, "Don't move around too much, that bucket isn't attached to anything and it might slip on you."
Move??? are you serious, I am riveted to that plastic bucket!! My parting words to him that day were "F... You!!!!" And I meant them from the bottom of my deer stand!!
For 4 hours I sat on my bucket and thought of all sorts of ways to get even with Tommy. Before noon, I hear a gunshot coming from Tommy's area. About an hour later he comes over--beaming. He shot an 8 pointer and we are going to drag the deer out to the truck.
I was excited for him. All I had to do was get down out of the tree!!! It wasn't pretty---it wasn't graceful but I did it. I was once again on terra firma and for that I was thankful.
We drug the deer to the truck and soon we were home, drinking coffee and telling lies. He was
proud of me for going. I was proud of him for getting his deer and was thanking God I was in a warm home again.
About this time he utters words that still send chills down my spine. "After lunch, we will go back and get you a deer. Just think we can hunt until almost dark!!!" Sh*!*!*!!!
When I think about war, and I do that a lot, I think of it on a personal level. Life and it's choices, are never black and white in my mind. I live in the gray area. I live with the what if's and a ton of shoulda, woulda, coulda's.
I think to myself, if I lived in a country controlled by a dictator who ruled with an iron hand, where there was no freedom of speech or human rights, I would pray for help to whatever god I knew. I would pray that someone --- somewhere, would save me and my family. In my mind the list broadens out to friends and co workers, people in my town. There is no place to stop in this scenario. I would pray for deliverance for my country.
It is with mixed feelings that I write this. It is hard to live in the "gray area". I know me and I know that if I lived in a border town in Mexico---I would do everything in my power to get my family to America. I would like to think I would do it legally, however I would do it any way I could.
If I lived in a ghetto in the United States and feared each day for my child's life, I would do my best to get us out of the ghetto. Whatever it took, I would do.
If I lived in Somalia, I would be praying for food, water, deliverance from someone--somewhere.
These same thoughts and feelings go for every part of the world where people suffer at the injustice of a harsh government. Governments that bind its people instead of letting them be free. If I lived in any of these places I would want someone, somewhere to help me. If I could not help myself, I would pray for intervention on my country's part. Would my prayers be answered? I do not know, but I would try.
However, to help these people, our young men an women, all over the world, have to sacrifice at times their lives. Is it worth their sacrifice? For the person in the country praying for help, the answer would be "yes". Until the bombs started falling, their land is blown to pieces, and friends and family are killed or maimed for life. Freedom comes with a great price for all involved, it is never free.
For the families of the young soldiers, I am not so sure the answer would be "yes". There is pride in our soldiers duties and there is also the love of a child or mate. Love wins. It is a mind boggling thing to send a love one to war. How can the possible consequences be justified? They can't. It is just something unknowingly done by soldiers every day--somewhere in this world, while the families wait and pray.
Throughout history there have been wars and rumor of wars. Every freedom the world knows has been fought for and won at the expense of many a young persons life. This will never change. It is called life and it is called war. We live and we die by what we believe in, one way or the other. Are we always right? Perhaps not always, but I still think, if I were facing a wall with no hope and no answers in sight for a better life----I would pray for someone, some where to help me and mine.
I still do not know how I feel about war. I have muddled this over and over in my mind for most of my life. I believe there are things and beliefs worth fighting for, no matter what the cost. I believe that once our country makes a commitment to a war, we support our troops. I also believe that where "much is given, much is required". We are a blessed nation. With that comes responsibility.
To me, war is like a slow, treacherous dance. Someone leads and someone follows. The moves are seldom the same. The dancers listen to the music and do what they feel or have been taught. They twirl, they sidestep, they stumble and they step on each others toes. The lead changes many times during the dance. Is it supposed to, no but it does just the same. When the dance is through the couple either walk away together, or they leave each other on the dance floor, both going back to what was before. Soon the music starts again and the dance is repeated, with different partners.
When all the wars now being fought are finished, and the dance is done; we can hope that song will never be played again. In my heart I know this is not true. Someone, somewhere is writing the next song, and waiting for their turn to dance.
Upon entering Arlington National Cemetery, the first thing seen is this metal sign, reminding us that we are walking on hollowed ground. It is good that it is there, however it really isn't necessary. It is impossible to enter those gates and not feel the impact of lives lived and lost for our country. As far as the eye can see in any direction, are row upon row of headstones, marking the graves of men and women who fought and died for their country, for our country.
Once the papers are signed, no one knows the outcome. Most men and women return home. None ever return home unchanged.
The Vietnam Memorial put my feelings into actual words. It is a small plaque 3 feet by 2 feet, made of black granite. inscribed are these words.....
"In memory of the men and women who served in the Vietnam War and later died as a result of their service. We honor and remember their sacrifice."
I believe this to be a truth for all soldiers everywhere.
For whatever it is worth----thank you.
When I think of Halloween, I have very mixed emotions. As a child, I never liked Halloween. I was about 9 years old, before I went trick or treating. I was always scared of the Halloween costumes and the people in them. I liked the candy but could do without the rest of the customs.
My mother also hated Halloween. Missing Halloween was never a problem for Mama. It was not in her nature to like the scary or ugly things in life. She was always glad when the night was over. I guess I picked up on her vibes, because I have never been a big fan of the day.
It is odd that 2 of the most important days in my life happened on Halloween. The first was when Tommy asked me to marry him--the other was a year later when my grandfather died and was buried on Halloween.
Tommy asking me to marry him was a big surprise...or treat indeed. We had talked about getting married and had even made vague plans however, when he slipped the engagement ring on my finger, I knew it was really going to happen. We would be married soon and be together for the rest of our lives.
It was right in the middle of the Vietnam War and our lives,and our country were completely unsettled. He didn't want to go to war and leave me, not knowing how he would return.
I didn't want to be left. He was a soldier and I wanted to be his wife, no matter what.
His commanding officer settled the whole thing for us. He told Tommy that he was not going to Vietnam and to get married and be happy. That was all it took. Two months later, we were married. Six months later we were expecting a baby and moving to Yuma, Arizona. Life can change on a dime.
I was about 7 months pregnant with Lisa, when Tommy received a phone call from my father, telling him that my grandfather, Harry Poe, had died suddenly that morning. It was Oct.29,1970.
When Tommy started to tell me about Granddaddy, I got excited. I thought they had flown to Yuma to see us. In my excitement, I wouldn't let him finish telling me the news. He got tears in his eyes and then he told me.
I cried so hard. Lisa was kicking and then suddenly she got still and it felt like time stopped for both of us. Tommy called our doctor and he said under no circumstances was I to fly home. The chances of me loosing the baby were too great. I was too upset and emotional to make such a long trip. So we stayed in Yuma.
Earlier that day, I had received $20 from Mamamae and Granddaddy in the mail. It was to go on the baby furniture we had on layaway. Tommy said, that we should go on and get the baby furniture and assemble it the next day. We did.
It was with mixed feelings that we put the crib together. I was excited to have it home and actually see where our baby would lay. But at the same time I was so sad because while we were planning for a new life, my family was planning my grandfather's funeral.
We got it all assembled and rearranged our room. I remember, Aunt Donna had crossed stitched us a baby quilt. Uncle Gene, put the last stitch in the quilt, making the quilt extra special. I still have it. When I placed it on the bed, it was perfect.
Granddaddy never got to see Lisa, but Mama was there for her birth, and Mamamae visited us the following week after Lisa was born. It was an exciting time for us all. They stayed several weeks with us. It was a healing time. We needed Lisa. We, as a family, needed the joy she brought back into our lives.
Granddaddy, Mamamae and Mama are all gone now, but their memory will live on as long as the people who loved them share their stories.
I intend to tell bits and pieces of their lives. Things that were important to me. Things that I don't want forgotten.
Now I have a new reason to celebrate. My grandchildren, Jacy and Logan. They make Halloween fun again. Time has passed, healing has come and we can once again enjoy the oddest of all holidays--Halloween.
Last night was Halloween. Tommy and I went to Tami's house to Trick or Treat. We ended up buying 7 bags of candy and passing out the treats, while the grand kids trick or treated with friends and family. It was a fun night for everyone.
We lit the 2 craved pumpkins, bought out lawn chairs, made a pot of coffee and placed 2 huge bowls of candy on the steps. We were set. I had my camera ready to capture the "ghosts and goblins" for my scrapbook.
We didn't have long to wait. Soon we were surrounded by all sorts of aliens, princesses, ghosts, and super heroes of all kinds.
I enjoyed watching how the kids would act when we said, "Help yourselves to the candy, there is more where that came from."
One little girl sat down on the steps and looked through all the candy to find the 2 perfect pieces that she wanted. I told her she could have more and she told me that in fact, she had exactly what she wanted. Well alrighty then!
After she left, Tommy and I started laughing and talking about how cute she was. I couldn't believe the control she had. Or how precise she was in getting exactly what she wanted and nothing else. We played a game, "what will they be when they grow up?" My guess---a ballerina, Tommy a musician. We both agreed that whoever marries her, will have to be on his" A game" all the time, because that little girl has a mind of her own.
Next came a group of 3. A little boy about 8, dressed as a soldier, a rock star and a goblin. When we told them to get what they wanted, the soldier went nuts. He grabbed up a bowl and almost emptied it in his bag. Looked at me and said, "You said I could!!!" Hmmm, that I did. I may need to rethink this strategy just a little. Then to my delight, the "soldier" starts to smooze me. He talks about his costume, showed us his boots and was completely delightful. After he left, I looked at Tommy and said, "He will definitely work on Wall Street!!!" Tommy agreed.
Finally a little girl arrives dressed up as Rapunzel. When we told her to help herself to the candy, her actions put the "soldier" to shame!!! She was all over that candy. One scoop, two scoops, three scoops and I grabbed at the bowl. She grabbed it first. "You said I could have all I wanted!!!" and I did, but at that minute I changed my mind---she had MY bowl and would not give it back!!!
This was the beginning of our "dance". I am trying to get the bowl and Rapunzel is having none of it. She wants what she wants and I had better get out of her way. I want my bowl, why I do not know---but I wanted it just the same. We tugged up Tami's first step and down the second, until Tommy finally takes the bowl from both of us. He fills it up again and looks at me in utter disbelief and sets the filled candy bowl back down on the steps.
Rapunzel and I square off and then I decide that she wins. Taking candy from a baby is downright hard!!!!
As she leaves I look at Tommy and say, "So, what do you think she is gonna be when she grows up?" He shook his head and said, "I am still trying to figure out what you are gonna be when you grow up!!!" Hmmmm and again hmmm!!!
We both agreed that the little girl would be a politician and I am not so sure she won't end up ruling the world!!
As for me, I am still working on Life Lesson #485. I have a lot to learn before I am ready for lesson #486. This one is gonna take awhile.
Dear Muse,
Where are you today?
Your silence is killing me!!!
Are you still mad at me for not taking notes, while stranded at Dulles International Airport for 12 hours?
Don't worry---the story is there---it is hard to write and "people watch" at the same time.
The people I observed were marvelous beings from other lands and other lives. None spoke English as they talked among themselves.
Strangers, with stories I will never know....but I can imagine.....sometimes that is enough.
There was a man from India, followed by 3 wives. Beautiful people. Their sari's flowing in shades of tangerine, gold and brown. The first wife, or the oldest, was dressed in a turquoise robe, appearing wiser and definitely in charge of the other two. They chatted amongst themselves. The husband stood alone, oblivious of the laughter.
I remember the Monk running past me. Brown robes heavy as he ran. Hood slipping off his head to reveal a shaved head and a generous smile as he and his black companion ran to catch their flight. Bronze cross dangling from his waist....hitting his knees as he ran.
Or the "little girl" who sat down to recharge her cell phone battery. In reality she was probably 25 or 30 years old. Oblivious to the stares of strangers, self assured in her small body and her children's 6x jeans.
Several people moved to a window to watch a Saudi Arabian jet liner land. The name ablaze---palm tree and crossed swords were painted on the tail fin.
A young Amish mother sat down beside me, her toddler in a stroller wanting something to eat. She gave the little girl cereal and smiled at me. Then she pulled out a cell phone and began to text someone. They too, had just missed their plane. Her husband was trying to make other arrangements. This picture was missing some pieces....the dots did not connect.
People ran off and on for the 12 hours I was there. Trying to catch planes they were scheduled to miss.
Frantic souls at the "Customer Service" counter....trying their best to get somewhere else and fast.
Futile attempts followed by resigned fate that they too would have to wait many hours with other strangers....waiting their turn to go home.
So Muse, you might as well talk to me because the story wrote itself.
