My Year in the ACLU...

   I am, at times, a very impulsive person especially if I am operating out of anger. This is not a good quality to have in any one's life.  I know me and I know I should wait, think and think some more before I say, do or write  anything in anger.  However, I am not wired that way. I never have been and at this point in life, l doubt if anything will change. All too often I have a knee jerk reaction to a situation and the mouth to back it up...or as our fearless leader in the White House says, "I have a pen and a phone" implying he is not afraid to use either...well, neither am I. 

   I found myself in an unusual situation a few years ago when someone reported me to the Facebook's version of the NSA.  I was turned in for using 'offensive language' on my page.  Imagine that!!  I know I get colorful at times. The bottom line, it is my page and my opinions.  I took offense at their offense! I was chastised for my remark and the person was blocked so he or she never has to read my offensive writing again.

   That should have been enough but no...no...not enough for me. I wanted my civil rights protected so I immediately paid my $35 yearly dews  and joined the ACLU...and the fight was on.

   I do not think the ACLU was anymore ready for me than I was for them.  I received letters, sometimes daily, asking for my support and I would reply I disagreed with their policy. We 'debated' abortion, Christmas displays, prayer in school, the death penalty, poverty and the war on women. 

   I received phone call after phone call where  we debated  all sorts of policies I did not completely agree with.  One lady called wanting me to sign a petition concerning a death penalty case. She was adamantly  opposed to the death penalty.  The prisoner  was proven guilty beyond a shadow of doubt. His crime was horrible. He was also proven to be sane...he knew right from wrong.  However, he did not show any remorse. I believed he should be executed. We argued this fact for about thirty minutes, on her dime, and never once did either of us change the other person's mind. Finally, in desperation,  she asked me why I joined the ACLU to begin with. I told her I was "pissed" that someone took offense at my language.  There was a long pause on both ends of the phone. Once she started laughing, she could not stop.  By now we were on a first name basis. I told her when my year was up I would probably not renew my membership. I also said I agreed with some of their platforms however, in my opinion, they took everything to the extreme and lost the common sense of the cause.  She said, "I understand". We both said good bye and that is the last phone call I have received from them. In my mind I see a note in red by my name saying, "She is impossible...do not call her".  I occasionally get a letter in the mail, however they arrive less frequently each year.

   It was a learning experience in many ways. I read every letter I received even though half way through the letter I knew I would not sign my name in support. I heard the 'other side' and I listened to what they had to say. It made me do some very deep, dark thinking about what I want for my country and what the 'other side' wants for the same country.

   One of my favorite quotes comes from Dr. Ian Malcolm in the movie Jurassic Park, "Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should."  Personally, I think this one line covers many difficulties and trials in life. I know it applies to me on a daily basis.  I value our Constitution.  In fact, I never leave home without a small copy of the Constitution in my purse.

  With liberty comes responsibility. With freedom comes common sense...a flower that does not grow in everyone's garden. Everything in life eventually boils down to the 'cause and effect'  theory. Our thoughts and actions produce more thoughts and reactions...just because we can do something doesn't mean we should.  From my experience and perspective, the ACLU does not believe this statement...however, I do.

  

When A Policeman Says "STOP"...STOP

For months racial unrest has existed all across the United States.  In Ferguson, Missouri, about a hundred miles from where I live,  a white policeman responded to a robbery report. Eventually he shot and killed the black suspect who was refusing to be arrested.  At one point the suspect attacked the patrolman in the officer's vehicle.  When he was told to "STOP" he continued to move in the officer's direction. When a policeman says "STOP"...whoever is moving should stop.

This blog is not a commentary on the shootings that have occurred. It is my story about what happened to us.  It is a true story that could have had many different outcomes.  People make decisions daily.  Some decisions are good and some are bad.  Sometimes we live and die by our choices.  Tommy and I are lucky nothing bad happened to us;  because we were wrong in the first scenario and in the second story I was misunderstood and thankfully  the policeman  took an extra chance on me.   If I had been shot, it would have been my fault because I did not follow either officer's  instructions.

The first time we had a close call was in St. Louis years ago. We were on a trip to Kentucky to pick up some furniture from my grandmother's home. She had recently passed away. Rick Ballard, one of our forever friends, offered to take us home. We were in his truck and pulling a sixteen foot trailer down I-70 driving ninety to nothing.  A patrolman flipped on his lights and pulled us over. We looked like three dirty bums. We had moved furniture all morning at my home to make room for the furniture we were bringing back from Kentucky.  Since Tommy and I both worked the night before,  we were getting close to the 'slap happy' stage of being tired.  Our appearance was a little on the rough side. Tommy and I were dressed in ratty jeans, flannel shirts and boots. My hair was long, curly and windblown...scary at best.  Rick had a long beard and also wore dirty jeans.  When I think of how we looked, the movie "Deliverance" comes to mind. ( Geez...I can hear those banjo's playing now.) The patrolman asked Rick to walk back to his patrol car with him. He asked us to stay in the truck.  

Both men were still standing by the patrol car twenty minutes later.  For some stupid reason, Tommy and I decided to get out of the truck and see what was going on. Somewhere during the past twenty minutes we forgot the cop asked us to please 'stay in the truck.'  As we walked toward the back of the vehicle, the patrolman asked us to "Get back in the truck". We continued to walk toward the two men and once again the patrolman said,  as his hand briefly went toward his gun, "For the last time get in your truck." Suddenly getting in the truck seemed like a good idea. I hate to think what might have happened if I had reached for my cell phone in my jeans pocket...or if we had continued to walk toward the officer. 

There was no way the patrolman could know that Rick was a minister, I was a Sunday school teacher and Tommy was a corrections officer and former police officer.  All he saw was a speeding truck with a broken signal light and three rough looking characters who would not follow instructions. This story could have played out many different ways.


Several years later, another 'situation' occurred.  I was working the 11-7 shift at the state hospital.  Returning to work from my 2 a.m. break, I was  driving my mother's beautiful 91 Grand Marquis to work for the first time.  I was also swerving to avoid potholes in the road while I  carried on a mental conversation with my mother. It went something like this. " Vicky Kay, slow down and don't hit any more potholes. My car isn't used to this kind of driving!" If you are from the South and the middle name is used...you know you are in trouble.  From out of nowhere lights appeared and a local cop pulled me over. Since I was swerving to miss the pot holes he thought I was drunk.  It only went downhill from there.

The policeman got out of his car and asked me to roll down my window and give him my driver's licence. I couldn't roll down my window because the automatic window button did not work.  That was a heck of a time to find this little fact out.  By then another patrol car appeared and stopped at an angle in front of me. He was talking to the officer and so was I.  I kept my purse in the back seat. It was easier for me  to grab my purse and lock the car when I returned to work.  The patrolman didn't know this. He later told me he really thought I was drunk. First, I tried to get out of the car so I could get my purse.  Evidently he did not hear that I could not roll down my window. Once again, he asked for my driver's licence and once again, I could not reach it.  He insisted I roll down my window...I couldn't.  He also insisted I stay in the car. So I turned around and tried to get my purse from the back seat. That is when the back door flew open and the cop wanted to know what I was trying to do. The other cop was now by my front window.  Finally, I could explain the whole mess to him...face to face...sort of.   I asked him to look in my purse and check my license if he needed to.  By now he knew I wasn't drunk.  He handed me my purse and I retrieved my license for him. I think I told him my whole life story and all about Mama.  He was laughing out loud...so was the other cop.  Me.. not so much, I knew I would be late getting back to work and I would have to explain this whole mess again.  The officer was a nice man and even refused to look through my purse, seeing my license satisfied him. His exact words were, "Lady, I don't even get in my wife's purse...much less yours!!"

He told me to watch the pot holes, which started my story of Mama and her car and how she took care of it. He started laughing again and told me to go to work before he got fired!!

And I did just that!!  This whole thing could have gone South really fast.  Thankfully, it didn't.  Policemen never know who they are pulling over for sure. It is always a risk for them.  I was doing the best I could with a bad situation however, the cop did not know this at first. I looked like I was not complying with his requests. I also sounded like an idiot!! Sad but true. I was late getting back to work. Everyone I worked with was pissed at me because I had messed up the breaks. The patients, who refused to sleep at night, thought the whole story was hilarious. One insane woman thought the cop should have shot me!!  She went to bed laughing saying, "I'd a shot you for sure".  Immediately, I reread her chart.  She was right...she would have shot me.

 

Paul McCartney???? Who is That?

   Somewhere between Jacy's birth and thirteen I failed to educate my granddaughter in the fine art of Beatlemania.  How she became a teenager without hearing about Paul McCartney and the Beatles is inconceivable, beyond any stretch of my imagination.  Music is such a big part of her life; and story telling is a never ending circus in my life; I thought for sure the two worlds had collided and Jacy knew the truth...when I was fourteen I was madly in love with Paul McCartney. In my little mind he would one day be her grandfather.  I was positive he was my destiny.  Forty million other little girls felt the same way I did.  We were all wrong.

   It all started when I was a freshman in high school. The Beatles made their first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show on  February 9, 1964 to be exact.  The first song I heard them sing was "All My Loving".  That night began the British Invasion changing the course of music forever.  Much to my father's annoyance, Paul McCartney became my first obsession. When Daddy's favorite beagle had puppies, I named them John, George, Ringo and Paulette. He refused to hunt with Paulette:)

   Kathy Pulley, my best friend, took a picture of Paul as he was singing, "She Loves You". I still have the small black and white photo hidden somewhere in a shoebox. It was my prized possession and as close to Paul McCartney as I would ever get.  It was an exciting time to be a teenager. I bought every magazine and record I could get my hands on for years. I kept a journal of Paul's likes and dislikes.  My infatuation with Paul lasted about two years. Then another black headed, brown eyed boy caught my attention and I was through with Paul. 

   The other day I showed Jacy a video of the Ed Sullivan show. She took one look at the Beatles  and said, " Oh my gosh!!".  She was not impressed.  " Nonnie, hmmmm Nonnie, they aren't all that great. In fact they are a little weird." My heart be still!!!  I was shocked!  How could she say this???  So I asked her to show me a video of her favorite singer. Up pops Adam Levine on her phone.  Proudly she thrust him toward me and my first reaction was, "Are you serious...you call this music???"  I caught myself before I said the words out loud. I remembered  my parent's reaction to the Beatles. I laughed knowing once again how they felt when I was a teenager.  Do I like Adam Levine's music...not at all. That is completely fine, I don't have to like him.  He belongs to my granddaughter's generation.  He is part of her future memory making past. I would love to see the look on her granddaughter's face when Jacy shows her Adam!  Now that would be funny in more ways than one.

    

Throw Back Thursday...Rod McKuen...

   The summer I turned nineteen I discovered the poetry of Rod McKuen. It was 1968 and his free-verse style of poetry became my saving grace for the summer. 

    My college boyfriend and I had broken up...again. This time it was for good. Tommy had joined the Marines right out of high school and, as far as I knew,  he was still mad at me for something that happened when we were seniors. I needed to get a life, and  I needed to get a job.  There were not many options for an inexperienced, soon to be college drop out in Clinton, Kentucky. I applied at the shoe factory and was hired.  I hated every minute of factory work. Standing in the same spot all day long, doing the same monotonous work, hour after hour,  was as close to Hell as my 19 year old self could imagine.  In other words,  my life that summer sucked big time. Absolutely nothing was going right for me or so I thought.  

   One day, after work, I drove to the library.  I loved books and had read everything I owned three or four times.  I wanted something new to read. Something different to make my days and nights less dreary.  I picked up a small book of poems by a unknown author named Rod McKuen. The book was titled "Listen to the Warm". I read the first few poems and was convinced the man was writing my life. The book followed me home that day.

   For the rest of the summer I stayed up late at night, burning candles, sneaking smokes, while savoring his words. Often crying as something he had written twisted my heart and made me see life through his eyes.  When my first pay day rolled around, I drove to the nearest bookstore and bought two Rod McKuen books and one of his albums.  I can not remember the name of the album. However, I remember hearing him quote his poetry to music and to the sounds of thunderstorms and the roar of the ocean breaking against the rocks.  I remember thinking,"Some day I want to help people feel laughter and tears.  I want to stir memories and have them taste color . I want to write."

   Within a week I bought a blank journal.  It remained empty, I could not write in it, everything about it felt wrong and awkward.  Eventually I went to the dime store and purchased a spiral notebook and a new pen. I began to write and I have not stopped. I wrote snippets of thoughts, names, phrases and brief outlines of stories to be summoned when the time was right. Most of the stories I wrote  were in my head, never to touch paper. I still do this. I write all the time with invisible ink on crystal clear paper...for my eyes only.

   When Tommy and I married, my Rod McKuen books became our Rod McKuen books and records. They accompanied us everywhere we lived. We would listen to him recite his words in the dark when it rained, with only a candle to supply an elusive, flickering light. The albums are long gone, so is the record player. I think I donated one of his books to The Clothes Cupboard last fall. I wanted another teenager to share his magic. I hope his book found another good home, and another new heart to touch.

Not Everything I Read on Facebook is True...Shock!! Shock!!

There are days when I like to play.  If I read something creative on Facebook or Pinterest and it sounds like fun or looks delicious...nine times out of ten I will try to recreate the idea.  Most of the time,  things I try work. Unfortunately, some ideas are harder to achieve than others. In fact there have been several 'bright ideas' that failed miserably...I still do not know why. 

 My newest failure happened about an hour ago.  For the past few days,  I have read several articles about blowing soap bubbles and watching the bubbles freeze. To me,  this seemed like a wonderful idea. I thought it would be awesome to watch a beautiful four inch round bubble fly high up in the air, catch reflections of the sunlight and then crystallize. I wanted photos of this sight.  I wanted to watch my grandchildren's eyes light up with delight as we tried and created the frozen bubbles.  From experience I have learned to try the idea out first before I drag the grandkids into the mix. High hopes can get dashed all too easy and fast.

This morning the weather was extremely cold, ten degrees to be exact with wind chills below zero. A gusty wind blew up to twenty miles an hour.  It was perfect weather to blow ice bubbles, or should have been. However, somewhere between the article and my bubble wand I found failure!  

I waddled outside bound from head to toe in all my winter clothes;  accompanied by a 'magic wand bubble blower' I bought last summer, in case we had  little people for company on a hot day in August.  The wand worked and produced huge bubbles that were gorgeous, reflecting azure blues and various shades of pink. The bubbles were quickly blown in multiple directions  until they exploded in the air.  Not one bubble froze.  Not one bubble attempted to freeze.  I returned to the warmth of my home...in about one minute's time span to find the reason this easy project failed.   Immediately,  I looked up the experiment on my computer.  No one knew for sure what went wrong.  However, a father in Denver tried this last weekend.  He and his kids had to hold their 'bubble' on their wand for at least a minute before the bubbles  began to freeze ...sort of.  I do not remember him saying the bubbles ever crystallized.  This is where my adventure became troublesome...catching a bubble was next to impossible.  Holding the bubble on the wand for a minute was not going to happen with the wind gusts we had.  I could only corral one bubble to stay on for 20 seconds...if that.  Not enough time for the bubble to freeze but more than enough  time for me to get an earache. 

I am not giving up exactly, I really want those photos. I also would like to share this memory with Jacy and Logan.  It would be a memory maker and something they could share with their children in years to come.   All I have to do is wait for the earache to stop and the wind to die down and then maybe...just maybe I can watch a bubble freeze.  Hmmmmm...that is not asking too much from Missouri weather!!  All She has to do is cooperate for once in Her existence.  Again I say...Hmmmmmm.

It is That Time of Year...Again

   Today is the sixth of January and I still have not decided what I want to accomplish  this year.  I am one of those people who always...ALWAYS has a plan and a list of some kind.  I also have a 'Plan B' in case the first plan fails... Things are different this year. I cannot decide what I want to accomplish in 2015.  I can't decide where I want to go or what I want to do when I get there. I can't even decide what I want for breakfast!  For me that is pitiful and a little scary.

   Tommy is no help. He never has a plan.  He is easy going and never worries about the future or what we need to accomplish.  He will wake up some morning and have a brilliant idea for the day or the week; and off we will go on some unforeseen adventure. I really do enjoy those days and the spontaneity that accompanies those adventures. I wish they happened more often.   Once, years ago, we woke up one morning and decided to go look for wild horses in southern Missouri. It turned out to be a good adventure.  I am not 100% sure we found the wild horses. I lean more toward some farmer's herd of horses is what we probably found and photographed.  However, there is a chance we really did find those elusive horses. Regardless, it was a good adventure and in my mind those horses were indeed wild.

   Perhaps we will just 'wing it' this year. Instead of making plans we will let life happen and see what the results will be.  Even typing those words makes my palms sweat.  I will have to have a little list on the side...just in case.  I hate to waste a day. To me if I do not accomplish at least one thing in a day,  I have wasted 24 hours of my life that I will never get back.  That statement might be a bit anal retentive but in my case it is true.

   We shall see how the new year plays out. I am excited about it. That much I know for sure. I am pretty sure my year includes more writing, trying to master watercolor painting once again, raising chickens and container gardening.  And then there is always... oh yeah, here we go---come on plans. I have my journal ready. By the way, what took you so long?

                                                

2014...In Review...Part Two...

Part two...

There are some things that are necessary to do before brain surgery and a trip to the Chocolate Factory was  at the top of the list.


There were also trips to her doctor's office followed by more trips to various other doctor's,  the pharmacist, the gas station and last but not least WalMart.  All too soon it was time to go to the hospital. July 22 finally rolled around faster than I anticipated.

                  

 

 

Lisa's surgery was a little over five hours.  As soon as she was brought back to recovery we were allowed to see her.  However,  she was in pain, sick to her stomach and needed rest. The doctor talked to us, saying the surgery went fine. He also said the tumor was being sent to the pathologist and he would let us know as soon as he found out anything. He removed 95% of the tumor.  We checked in on her hourly. The first night Lisle and I returned home.  Finding a place to sleep in a hospital is almost impossible--however I will save that rant for another blog.   We were back before daylight. When we arrived in ICU Lisa had a roommate. Lisa was still sick but her color looked better. Her roommate was a doozie!!  She gave everyone Hell.  I was glad when Lisa finally could leave Intensive Care and go to a step down unit.

 

I think this photo was taken on Thursday after surgery on Tuesday. The doctor released Lisa to go home late Friday afternoon. I thought I would have a panic attack. In my mind it was too soon.  Once again I was proved wrong. Lisa's recovery was remarkable considering her type of surgery.  The tumor was located on a major blood  vessel in the brain that controls, speech, personality, memory and temperament.  We were so afraid  we the would loose the essence of the Lisa we loved. We didn't... she was fine. She was and is still Lisa and for that we are all eternally grateful.

 

 

 While Lisa recovered,  she received many calls, texts, cards and flowers.  From Melodi and Lacey she received a box of 'sunshine'. Every thing in the box was related to the color yellow... the color of sunshine. Lisa was like a little girl when she opened the box. It was literally Christmas in July.  Many rough days were in her future. At times,  she felt horrible. After a week or ten days she began to feel better. In fact she was making remarkable progress.  Then the doctor called; informing  her it was cancer.  Fear erupted in my heart all over again. The doctor referred her to the best doctor and cancer center in Tampa.  It was time for Lisa to get her hair cut. It was chopped from surgery so it had to be shaped up all over. A buzz cut seemed like the best course of action.  In the back of all our minds was the fact she would have to have chemo and radiation.

 

 

 

Once again we were wrong. All our fears were eased when we reached Tampa and talked with her doctor who ironically was born in Iran...a political enemy of the United States.  When I heard this I felt a little nudge inside and a warm smile saying, "Surprise...you never know where help will come from...enjoy"   Her doctor is a smart lovely woman and told Lisa she had a long life to live. She said, "If you have to have brain cancer this is the one to have.  It is slow growing and will probably never grow back in your lifetime. We will keep an eye on it with a checkup every six months." Words failed us.  Lisa was going to live a long amazing life.

 

  Lisa is a walking miracle.  Her healing was  a blessing and a mixture of wonderful doctors and lots of prayer from family and friends causing the end results she received. I flew home the following Saturday.  What did I learn from all this?  I learned that people are stronger than we think we are.  I saw bravery in Lisa and Lisle's face every day.  I saw Lisa heal faster than I thought was possible. I saw my worst fears fall apart before my eyes. I learned that sometimes my wonderful, coffee inflated brain forgets I am not in charge of the world.  I learned I do not know what will happened in the long run. I am like everyone else just along for the ride. I also learned I am wrong a lot. I need to celebrate more and worry less.

 

The rest of the year was busy and for the most part very good. Melodi and Lacey came home for Thanksgiving and that was such an amazing time. Tommy and I packed up our queen size air mattress went to Tami's and stayed.  We didn't want to miss a thing.                                                        

 

 

 

Christmas and New Year's was fun. We spent our time with the grandkids and that is always an adventure waiting to happen. So why was I so anxious for 2014 to be over?  In hindsight it was a good year. Everything bad that could have happened...didn't. I think I need to practice 'thankfulness' much more this year. Live in the moment and not in my imagination. That last statement will be a battle for me because I love my imagination!  I am seldom bored. However, I will try to focus more on the positives in life.  The world has enough negativity without my two cents.  Hmmm...but then there is Obama and the Senate and ISIS...I have my work cut out for me.  Happy New Year and Welcome 2015.  I will do my best to be better at living with a thankful heart.

 

 

First sunrise of 2015...a year full of promise.