When I sat down to write today, I thought I was writing a eulogy for Sandy. No words came. I had said it all yesterday in a short paragraph. Sandy had been with us for fifteen years. We loved her and she loved us back. She became sick and died in my arms...right where she should have been. Her death broke my heart. Her burial broke my back.
Tommy and I have decided that we are going to be cremated when we die. Funerals cost too much. The survivor will need the insurance money to continue to live as we do now...without worries. It sounds good. Makes sense to most people and has even become popular in some circles. The only problem is I hate the idea of burning up anyone I love. It seems barbaric and I for one can not do it. Tommy has no problem with the idea. Yesterday he asked me if I wanted him to call the vet and make arrangements for Sandy's cremation or did I want to bury her in the garden. Of course I picked the garden. I would make the same decision again today. However, little did I know how hard physically digging a four foot grave for Sandy's remains would be.
The only thing about me that feels 67 years old is my knees and today my back and ribs. Usually I am fine. I don't feel or think any different than I did when I was 40. Tommy feels the same way. He has had a rough year and is finally healing. Much better than I hoped for. He still has pain in his left arm but it is down to a 2 or 3 level. He can function and live with that. We both think it will be gone by October.
However, if you put the two of us together you have one whole person with bad knees and an iffy lower back, a left arm that hurts so bad it has been known to make an ex Marine cry. And this person has to dig a four foot hole. It took a long time to get that hole dug. We started with shovels, then we turned to a pick ax. From the ax we drug in the tiller. That helped a lot. Until I looked up and saw how the tiller was jerking Tommy's arms. He refused to quit using it because at last we were making some progress.
The shady spot I picked out is nice. It is under a tall tree with roots that go all the way to China. We dug, scooped, pulled until the hole was deep enough. My knees had left the premises about two hours earlier. To get out of the hole, I had to grab the tree and pull.
Finally Sandy was laid to rest. She was covered in her favorite blanket. We thanked God for allowing us to raise Sandy. We thanked him for a lot of memories. Then we gathered up all the shovels, pick axes, and other tools that I don't even know what they were for. But I do know one thing, they were not for digging dirt.
We waddled to the house, took a shower and then a 3 hour nap. When we woke up Tommy asked me if I wanted to go to Portland to eat. I did. The fish and beer was delicious. We talked and talked then talked some more. Once again the subject matter was cremation. It is in our will that we will be cremated. I am sure if I go first, he will cremate me...probably have a wiener roast:) I will not bet on cremation for Tommy. I have loved that body 46 years. However I know one thing for sure, I am not digging the grave!! Men!!! Can't do anything with them and don't want to live without them. The way it stands we are being cremated...unless Tommy goes first...to be continued hopefully at much later date.
It is a well known fact, I enjoy meeting unusual people. Why?? Because they seldom let me down. If I wait long enough a story is just a smile away.
Airports, elevators, hospitals, parks, bars, restaurants,Walmart, church, airplanes, the library, Alaska, the beach, auctions and even the Army Surplus stores are a few places I have walked away with a stranger 's life story or some horrific event in their lives they can't forget. A few have even shared photos of their adventure. We seldom if ever exchange names. I think that is odd, however probably a good idea in the long run.
Tommy and I were out and about today. He needed to go to Harbor Freight and get a couple of tools that were on sale. I wanted to go to the Army Surplus store and check out mosquito netting and a few other items for camping or for when the SHTF..whichever comes first. It was there I met my 'character' for the day.
As I tried to open the boarded up door, a young man was walking out. He was short, wore grey baggy shorts and a t- shirt. He had both ears pierced with black circles that will leave his ears eventually with holes the size of nickles...I guess. We bumped into each other. He was looking over his shoulder talking to the man running the store and I was on a mission to get some camping supplies. After we said our 'excuse me's'; the cashier said, "l will have that door fixed tomorrow. We were robbed earlier this week." BINGO!! That was all I needed. I knew a story was brewing close to the surface in the room. I asked about the robbery. The young man came back in to talk and the cashier began to retell the story. It was a simple story. The robbers knocked out the glass in the door and walked in--took what they wanted and left. That was it. I was semi disappointed until the young man began talking. A couple of months ago he was shot in the knee, a few blocks from where the surplus store is located. Evidently, the street his girlfriend lives on is in a dangerous area of Columbia. Someone is shot over there weekly, sometimes daily. The area of the store could be considered 'shaking grounds' as far as being in a safe neighborhood also.
I told the young man he was lucky to be alive, and have full use of his knee. That opened the door to his story. He began talking by reveling how he used to be into drugs but now he has a daughter and he was through with all that mess. I congratulated him for making a good life choice. He smiled. I turned and began walking to where the hunting knives are located. He followed me and asked if I wanted to see his knee. I said , "Well, sure . . . I guess". Before I knew it he jerked up his shorts and sure enough there was a bullet hole. Now healed it looked like a round bruise, combined closely with a long jagged scar. I told him it healed nicely and then he offered to show me how it looked before he was healed. Bam!!! He snapped open his cellphone and there in living color is his bloody knee just moments after being shot. It looked nasty for sure. I asked who shot him? I probably shouldn't have asked that question, because the answer I got was a blank stare. It just popped out before I could stop it. I laughed and said, "Never mind, I don't know anyone in Columbia. Sorry I asked." He gave a curt nod and started to walk off. Then he turned around and wanted to know why I was looking at 8 inch knives. I laughed again and said without thinking, "To keep from getting shot in the knee!" Not everyone gets my sense of humor. . . I keep forgetting that. He said, "Jesus Lady. . ." looked at me like I had just grown a third eye and made his way to the door. . . Never bring a knife to a gun fight little boy - - - everyone knows that:) Kids!!! I need the knife for fishing. One side of the blade is a fish scalier.
Tommy and the cashier were knee deep in war stories, when I walked over to join them. I like to listen to men talk, so I kept quiet while my husband and a stranger tried to settle the world's problems. They didn't have any luck with that one.
It was a good day in my corner of the world. We laughed a lot. Had several serious conversations and ate another couple's platter at Long John Silver's. It was close to what we ordered...not worth the trouble to get a reorder and both were the same price.
Getting out of house was good, coming home was even better.
It is Saturday morning in my corner of the world. It is a cool morning for the end of July. I wanted to go outside, enjoy nature and clear my mind of the news of the world. I did for a few minutes but the last two weeks of non stop news about Hillary and Trump kept creeping into my thoughts at odd moments. While I was deadheading my petunias and daisies, more random thoughts entered my mind. One of those thoughts repeated something I had read several days ago, 'if you were born in 1949, like I was, then for almost 44% of your life the United States has been in a war somewhere.' I know my teenage and early adult life revolved around the Vietnam War. Dinner was eaten in silence as the t.v. reported another day, in another part of the world, where young people my age died.
It seemed remote until my senior year. It was a common known fact young men graduating high school usually either went to college or Vietnam.The draft was still in effect. I remember in Speech class we had to give a short speech on how we pictured our future. I think it was Ronnie Poole who said, "I am pretty sure I will spend my summer in beautiful downtown Saigon." We all laughed at the joke. In fact, we often quoted him at odd times when we talked about the war. That line stuck in my head. We were eighteen, young and invincible. A couple of years later I married a Marine. It really struck home then. Things turned out good for Tommy and me. All of our friends and family made it home safely from Vietnam. I am sure they were changed. The changes didn't show from the outside at that time.
As I pulled weeds out of my zinnia bed, I thought about a novel I read a few weeks ago. It was about the history of the world at war. Since the beginning of time, this world has been at war somewhere with someone. There was no twenty four hour news channels to report what was going on back then. Lack of knowledge did not stop the chaos. People created war to get what they wanted. They still do. At times other people or countries picked a side and joined in the fight. They still do. The right side did not always win. It still doesn't. And the world is still hanging on.
While outside, I dug up a new patch of ground. I didn't really need anything else planted I wanted to dig up fresh dirt and take a smell of the land. I wondered how many other people had lived where I live now. I have records but lots of people lived before those records were recorded. The dirt smelled good. It has too much clay to be fruitful on its own. We mix it with this and that to enrich the earth. I looked up at our woods and realize once again, I didn't plant any of those trees or wild flowers and they are beautiful. They made it through Indian raids, the Civil War and so far they have made it through my era of time. The soil worked fine for them.
Down the road about fifteen miles or so is a nuclear power plant. Tommy worked there enabling us to buy our home. When we bought it, the danger of a power plant never enter our minds. We still don't dwell on it. If it wasn't that it would be something else. The world isn't any safer than it was thousands of years ago. However, we have the ability to destroy our world...literally. It wouldn't take long either. Push a button, retaliate and push another button. . .keep on until no one is left standing. I hope that doesn't happen. I hope the grape vines we started will be producing grapes for our grandchildren. I hope the wild blackberries will be used to fill tummies with Nonnie's recipe for blackberry cobbler. I hope the small trees in our forest grow huge and tall.
I hope. . .
Every now and then I get caught up in something I know nothing about. I often fly by the seat of my pants and if an idea sounds good to me, I am off and running looking for a new adventure. This is the story of how I entered Lisa in a beauty contest at the age of six without knowing one single thing about beauty pageants for children or anyone else for that matter.
I was having my morning coffee with one of my best friends Janice. She was all excited about this event that would happen in Union City in a few weeks. It was a children's beauty pageant. The winner would receive an award and move on to the next beauty pageant in Memphis, Tennessee. It would go from there to another pageant until someone won $10,000. She said, "Let's enter our girls!! It will be fun and it doesn't cost much money...just an entry fee. We can get them pretty sundresses, fancy sandals, fix their hair and apply a little make up. It will be just like playing dress up!!" We asked the girls what they wanted to do and of course they were excited and couldn't wait to put on make up.
I called Mama to tell her the news and she was not excited at all. Mama and Mamamae were at my home in Tenn. in about an hour. First Mama explained I had never been to a beauty contest for kids and I really didn't know what I was getting into. I told my family all that I knew about the contest and that Lisa was excited and wanted to do it. I can hear Mama now saying, "It costs a small fortune to be in beauty pageants. There is a lot of competition and mother's get furious with judges, the audience and the little girls. Most of the time the little girls do not have fun. Don't make Lisa do this." I remember telling Mama that this time it was just for fun. Lisa's beautiful and it will be like playing dressing up. She won't care if she wins or not she is six. We know she is beautiful. Let her have the experience. She will feel like a princess.
Reluctantly, Mama and Mamamae dropped the subject but "the look" remained through out their visit.
The next day, Lisa and I go to K Mart and buy her a pretty sundress, a pair of sandals that had a wedge heel, ribbons for her hair and a little stand out slip to make her dress fuller. She looked like a little doll. We ordered her a wrist corsage of red carnations and she was ready for Saturday night and the contest. Throughout the week she practiced walking in her shoes, turning around, and smiling. She did fine.
Mama, Mamamae, Janice and her family, Lisa, Tami and I drove to the high school at the same time. As soon as we turned into the parking lot I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. It was packed. My silent introvert jumped up and down in my throat and said, "Oh Hell no !! You are not going in there!!! Are you crazy??? Look at all those rich people...dummy!!" I literally thought I would pass out...but I didn't and we made it inside the school. There were forty million little girls dressed in forty million dollar dresses or should I say gowns. Even though the dresses they wore were short...they were created in the image of gowns. I looked at Mama and she knew how I felt. She hugged me and said, "Lisa is beautiful, she fits right in." God bless her, if she had said "I told you so!!" I would have busted out crying. However, Mama would never say anything like that.
I looked for Lisa and she was playing with some little girls and having a good time. She was enjoying the pretty dresses and acting like a little princess. She did much better than her mother who really wanted to puke...anywhere would have been fine. Her mother also wanted a drink of water and a Xanax. Neither of which she got.
They called the little girls backstage. Lined them up and the first round began. One child was just as pretty as the next. I was glad I wasn't a judge. Lisa made it through that round and was smiling from ear to ear. She even waved to us from the stage. The second round went fine and she was still in the competition. However, others had been cut and there were some mad Mama's in the audience. I have been to wrestling matches where the language was better. Lisa was taken out in the third round. She came back to where we were sitting. I really don't think she was supposed to but she did and I was glad. She whispered in my ear,"Can we go home? I want a bowl of cereal." That was the last thing I was expecting to hear. So I told Mama what was going on and we left.
The ride to our home was quiet. We played the radio and I complemented her on what a wonderful job she did. I told her I had made pictures to show Tommy when he got home. She smiled and that was all. After we got in the house and changed clothes, I fixed the cereal. Lisa was still quiet. Finally I asked her if she wanted anything else and she said the oddest thing. "Mama do you have the crown I wore when I was Valentine Queen?" I did and I even knew where it was--miracles of miracles. She put the crown on and finished her cereal. We began to laugh and talk once again. Soon she was sleepy. She put her p.j.'s on and climbed in bed. I gave her a good night kiss and noticed she was sleeping with her crown on. For the millionth time, in her short life, she stole my heart all over again.
When I walked to the mailbox today I received a surprise package from Trinidad and Tobago. My long time friend, Nalini Mohammed sent me a 'Pay It Forward' present for my new granddaughter. I was beyond delighted and very thankful.
Several months ago Nalini asked ten or fifteen people on Facebook, from around the world, if we wanted to help make someone's day a little brighter. We agreed and were anxious to begin. Our mission is to send a surprise package to a friend somewhere in the world, or if possible to do something nice for someone in person. Something to make their day better and make peace for a minute tangible. " Pay It Forward" is a wonderful idea. We can all use some mental sunshine on any given day. The idea keeps going as each person passes on their offer of friendship.
My surprise was a perfect selection for me. It is a book, about the size of a letter. On the front of the book where an address would be says:
Inside the book are envelope like letters with a theme at the top of the page for the subject to be written about. At the bottom of the page is the date it was written and the date it is to be opened. Here are some of the subjects to be written about.
1. It may surprise you to learn that I was young...
2. One positive change in the world have witnessed is...
3. When your parents were young...
4. The best advice anyone ever gave me...
5. I am curious to see how you...
6. What I want you to know about me...
7. My wishes for you...
There are other quotes just as thought provoking and ideas I want to share with Rowan. She is three months old and has so much to learn. I am also ordering two more for Logan and Jacy. I have so much love and lessons I learned the hard way. I would like to share with all my children and grandchildren.
Thank you again Nalini for giving me a perfect gift and making my day delightful. I have my friend and a gift in mind to send to her. I hope she will like her, 'Pay it Forward', as much as I did receiving mine. I am going to do this more often because receiving and giving me make me feel wonderful. I know a lot of people who could use a smile, a laugh or an Ahhhh that is just what I needed today. Much love to all...for starters.
Melodi took us to the airport in Reno about 4 a.m. Monday. Our flight took off at 5:30. Our first stop was Las Vegas. There we would change planes and head for St. Louis. Sounds simple and it should have worked out that way but flying for us is always an adventure at best... so is crossing the street.
Our flight was on time. The terminal where we landed seemed to be clear across Nevada. We had one hour to find our terminal, check in and get on board to leave. We walked it with time to spare. After we found our destination, we decided to play Poker on the slots machines. I like to play Poker but I am not all that great on slots. There are too many distractions, bells and whistles for me to concentrate. . .or so I thought. We only gamble when we are in Vegas or Tunica, Mississippi. It is all in fun. Tommy didn't want to play but he watched me, giving me all sorts of suggestions. We were having a good time. The guy next to us won $650 on the penny slots. So guess what we played!! I would win a little and loose a little. Time got away from us. We were sitting about sixty feet or so from our gate, except our backs were to the area. It was loud in the gigantic room, and our minds were on the slots. We didn't hear the first page for us to line up and board. We also did not hear it the second time. Finally, Tommy hears something and says we have to go because we are being paged. I never did hear the page. Well, I had one dollar left so I hit it and lost. Then I was ready to go...more or less.
We walked to the gate as fast as we could. The man who worked the counter was smiling. We apologized and he informed us there were two people later than us who had not checked in yet. Tommy gave the man his boarding pass and all eyes turned to me as I began to dump my purse searching for my pass. I knew I had it so I wasn't worried until the gentleman told Tommy, "You can go on and board. I am not sure she is going anywhere." AND then he laughed. I found my pass and we get on the plane. Only middle seats were empty --- Tommy and I split up. He sat between two young thin men. Me ?? I got the first row with the smallest seats in the world. We had lots of leg room but you would need to be a size 8 to even remotely fit in them. I thought the first row of seats always looked bigger. They probably are but our steward said these were the original 'trial' seats they put in when they gave more leg room. Then he smiled and said, "I am really sorry." I was sitting between a mother and daughter who were three times my size, and I am a long way from a size 8. The mother was elderly and sick. She threw up twice in a bag before we started our flight. Her daughter offered to trade seats with me. I was very thankful because the coffee in my stomach was beginning to churn every time she threw up. Her daughter was a nurse and took good care of her mom. The steward never offered to ask her to leave the plane. I was glad because she slept the rest of the way and seemed to feel better once we landed. Sometimes things work out for the best.
We landed in St. Louis, retrieved our luggage and heard about a bomb threat at Mercy Hospital. Part of 270 was closed. We were taking 70 west so that was no problem for us but we were worried about the people at the hospital. All protocol was taken and it turned out to be nothing. A man came to the hospital for a mental
evaluation and had packed golf balls wrapped in something--probably tin foil-- and a non hazardous object that resembled a cell phone. I am glad the man on duty was alert and took proper precautions and called the bomb squad. No one was hurt. I imagine the man in for the mental health check up, lost his balls and string phone and now has a room with a view somewhere safe.
Soon we were in our car and headed home. About forty five minutes out of St. Louis heading west, traffic came to a standstill. We crept along like a long, tired earthworm at times. Most of the time we sat, waiting and wondering who was in a horrible situation. Emergency vehicles had to drive on the shoulder and take outer roads to reach the accident. When we finally drove past it, what we saw was horrible. Little children were involved in the accident and I have no more information. It looked bad and I will leave it at that.
On a brighter note, we had a wonderful stay with Melodi, Lacey and Rowan. Our trip home was eventful and a tad more sane than some trips we have flown. Considering we were flying at 34,000 feet and flying at 450 miles an hour, it was a good flight. As far as I am concerned, that is a good thing and beats traveling by covered wagon all to pieces. However, I must admit, I would love to travel once the Oregon Trail with a wagon train. It is on my Bucket List...it just can not be in summer...someone would shoot me half way through the trip.
Tommy and I visited Melodi, Lacey and Rowan this past weekend in Reno. It is such a treat to be 67 and a new grandmother. I thought those days were long gone. Jacy our oldest granddaughter is 14 and Logan our grandson is 12. We have been with them for most of their lives. Watching them grow up has been one of life's great adventure. They are amazing, funny, super smart and are blessed from the top of their heads to the bottom of their toes. All they have to do is say "Hi, Nonnie" and I am grateful all over again for life and for them.
It is the same with my daughters. They were first my babies, then my little girls. Truthfully, part of me has kept them in my mind and heart as little girls and that is fine with me. However, I enjoy the women they have become. Without a doubt they are the funniest, most creative women I know. There are times when I think we could take our show on the road. At this time in my life, they are my best friends. Tommy and I adore them and their spouses. Laughter is good for the mind, heart and soul. We laugh a lot when we all get together. It is a cleansing time and a renewal from all the crap going on in the world.
And then came Rowan. She is a new spark in our lives. There is something magical about babies. And Rowan is about as magical as they come. When I whisper in her ear, I call her 'Bean'. The first time I saw her ultrasound she looked like a little bean. I remember thinking, "There is my little Bean and I love him or her."
When Lacey or Melodi walk into a room, Rowan lights up. When Tommy and Rowan interact, she coos and laughs and kicks her little feet. She adores his voice. I do too. Now Ro likes me and talks to me but I think my glasses are debatable with her. I take them off and she is happy. Me, on the other hand, can not see up close so my new love is a bit of a blur. It is a trade off in that department.
Life is good...very, very good in my
corner of the world.
To be continued...we had to return home and what a trip it was!!
