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Last week, I stood on the porch and tried to figure out how I could get out of the shadows. It's not that I've been depressed. It's more that the web has been torn and I can see things for what (I think) they might really have been. Not how I imagined they should have been, or what I told myself were the reasons that could explain what happened in those dark and fragile moments. The world is full of people who seem to have listened to the wrong voice and are now engaged in life - work in which they find no pleausre or purpose and who run the risk of suddenly realizing someday that they have spent the only years that they are ever going to get in this world doing something which could not matter less to themselves or to anyone else. This does not mean, of course, people who are doing work that from the outside looks unglamourous and humdrum, because obviously such work as that may be a crucial form of service and deeply creative. But it means people who are doing work that seems simply irrelevant not only to the great human needs and issues of our time but also to their own need to grow and develop as humans. In John Marquand's novel Point of No Return, for instance, after years of apple - polishing and bucking for promotion and dedicating all his energies to a single goal, Charlie Gray finally gets to be vice - president of the fancy little New York bank where he works; and then the terrible moment comes when he realizes that it is really not what he wanted after all, when the prize that he has spent his life trying to win suddenly turns to ashes in his hands. His promotion assures him and his family of all the security and standing that he has always sought, but Marquand leaves you with the feeling that maybe the best way Charlie Gray could have supported his family would have been by giving his life to the kind of work where he could have expressed himself and fulfilled himself in such a way as to become in himself, as a person, the kind of support they really needed... "Man shall not live by bread alone," and this just happens to be, among other things, true, and very close to the same truth that Charlie Gray comes to when he realizes too late that he was not made to live on status and salary alone but that something crucially important was missing from his life even though he was not sure what it was any more than, perhaps, Marquand himself was sure what it was. There is nothing moralistic or sentimental about this truth. It means for us simply that we must be careful with our lives, for Christ's sake, because it would seem that they are the only lives we are going to have in this puzzling and perilous world, and so they are very precious and what we do with them matters enormously. Everybody knows that. We need no one to tell it to us. Yet in another way perhaps we do always need to be told, because there is always the temptation to believe that we have all the time in the world, whereas the truth of it is that we do not. We have only a life, and the choice of how we are going to live it must be our own choice, not one that we let the world make for us. Because surely Marquand was right that for each of us there comes a point of no return, a point beyond which we no longer have life enough to go back and start all over again. After reading this (and this), I slept better and woke up the next day I got up and went to the gym, as is my habit. I ran hamster circles around the track chanting a new, strange mantra: "Make the most of it." As in, "This is it, we don't get more." And in the shower I thought about my dog - not just this moment - but all the other ones. I thought about all the trips to New York and Miami. Every time I went away I'd get a call from the neighbor that my dog had wandered down the highway. What that meant was that he wasn't being properly secured, a necessity at our house. You see, a friend's dog had been tragically killed after running through our orchard not long after we moved in. I remember the day. I was working in the art cabin at the top of our road. I looked out the window and saw this dog running Lab - happy through the trees. Being an animal person I normally would have run out to try and catch him and pet him but I was in the middle of something, I guess. Two minutes later, the dog was dead. Hit by a car on the highway. We were devastated - both of us - and heartbroken when our friend put him in the back of the truck to take him home and bury him. So the other day, as I was showering post - run, I thought about that and acknowledged (I always knew, just wouldn't look it in the face) that he didn't secure my dog on purpose. Full well knowing what could happen. It happened all the time on our highway. On the
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simplest level, maybe it was a way to try and keep me home. He didn't like me working and if he made it a stress to be away... On another level - and this is the point of the whole story - I realized in the shower that he really didn't like me, and that possibly, the reason for all of this sh * *, is that he just wanted me to leave. The same day, a friend mentioned an article he'd read about my step - brother who said, in the New York Times, that he was an only child. Though I completely understand PR and the value of keeping our family life a private matter, it bothered me. Not just that my sister and I didn't exist, but that he couldn't find a way to mention our brother *. Talking with J. about it over dinner, I spit out, "Everyone just erases me." You still have all of my love but you don't get to not know me anymore. You aren't allowed to discount the work that I do, the education that I have, the value of my creative skills. You don't get to pretend that my web of global connections doesn't exist, that the only thing I'm good at is making dinner. That you wasted the six years you had with me trying to make me less - less smart, less strong, less capable - well, that's your problem. I 'ma go be awesome (in my relatively small way) on the East Coast again. and I' ma do it without you, if I have to. And then, I felt better. Like, instantly better. And I've been in a great mood all week - everyone noticed. I'm still sorting the connections between the dog, Beuchner, and Any Human Heart, but it was instant healing. The dog's fine, by the way. He lives with a lady and has a better life than I could ever give him. * Though, to be fair, if our brother is still alive - and still a drug addict - I wouldn't want him to know where I'm at, either. Love, Loss, and What I Wore - Type of Thing. Prada bow belt. I have this. I bought it a few years ago imagining I'd wear it with a black shirt dress or a leopard cardigan. It sits in the drawer, next to the H belt; I never have worn either one. A red bow belt around the waist takes confidence. I used to love clothes. More accurate, perhaps, to say that I used to * fall * in love with clothes. Not just the styles, the fabrics, and the textures (though, definitely all of that), but the idea of them. Where I might be going when I wore them or who I might be with. I've gone broke for clothes more than once. Bonwit Teller collapsed in 1989, my freshman year of college. A local wholesaler bought the remaining inventory and so did I. The only purchase I remember (but there were many more) was a pair of lime green patent leather peep - toe pumps by Charles Jourdan. I wore amazing suits on the trading floor. One of my favorite outfits was a single - breasted Lillie Rubin black and white houndstooth jacket and black pencil skirt. The red AIDS ribbon was de rigueur and if I was feeling flush with cash I popped the collar. I had a beautiful powder - blue silk suit printed with seashells and starfish that I wore once at Hotel Dupont in Wilmington and then was ruined by my dry cleaner. The Asian currency crashes of the 90's were good financial years for us - James had placed heavy bets on those markets and his frequent travels East meant that I went with a time or two and shopped Takashimaya with my GBP and and USD. It's not often you see Dior marked 70 percent off. Divorced, I decamped with my Armani and my luxe - quality [knock - off] bright red Kelly bag to the Texas [inaugural] ball in Washington a few years later. In Miami, I had a Donna Karan wrap blouse in black silk with red cherries. It hugged my generous curves and, for whatever reason, I wore it the day the office visited a soul food kitchen in the Overtown neighborhood. Ka - Kow! I made friends there. Things changed after Miami. I wasn't well, I guess. But it was more complex than that. One night, before a dinner party, I put on an Italian sundress I'd found in town. I liked it. It was a soft, navy jersey with a deep v - neck and a loose, swinging skirt. The bodice was smocked with neon pink, orange, and green threads. I'd been feeling better and working out. I felt pretty in it. My Ex took one look at me in the dress and pressed his finger into the soft lump above my scar with a smile. I took the dress off and don't remember what I put on instead. I've kept the dress in my new closet. I turned to Faconnable and Eileen Fisher and though all of it still hangs in my closet, I rarely
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, if ever, want to put those clothes on in this new life. I miss the easy confidence I had in my youth. If I thought of my body in the dressing room, then, it was more about how to hide my shape at work. I could wear most things even though I chose not to. I laugh when I think of how I wouldn't wear a bikini - even when I weighed 103 pounds. That I thought I was "fat" when I hit 120. Now, I keep my back to the mirror and I don't turn around until I'm fully clothed. Most days, I wear boyfriend jeans, flats, and a t - shirt to my office. I soak myself in Guerlain and big diamonds to compensate, but it's not the same. I'm not the same. Either I don't want to be, or I recognize that I'm unable to be. I'm not sure which one it is. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing. When I moved here, I got rid of many of my clothes and shut the door on the rest of them. Now, I skim the top off of the laundry basket every morning instead of planning outfits from things on hangers. But lately, I've been thinking that I'm ready for heels and a pencil skirt. I'm not sure how to interpret that. My boyfriend tells me every day that he thinks I'm beautiful, but it's so easy not to believe in it - once you've had someone tell you, every day, that he thinks otherwise. I went for a short run on the treadmill yesterday, then talked myself into getting on the scale. It took some time. I asked myself all kinds of questions. Should I wait until morning? I ate pizza last night, I'm probably retaining a lot of water from the salt. If I haven't weighed in five months, what's the point of weighing in now? I could wait another month, starve myself and work out really hard. On the other side, I thought - well, maybe it would be motivating. Because gym motivation has been really lacking lately. Maybe knowing is better than not knowing. The chances are good I haven't gained it back. Not all of it, anyway. Maybe I've even lost some more without trying. I got on the scale. I've gained three pounds since November. Not lost. Maybe not bad considering all the travel and upset and sickness I've had since then. Fistfuls of Cadbury mini - eggs at my sister's house while we threw my Mom in "The Hole" (memory ward) as my sister so unfortunately named it. (Why do names like that insist on sticking?) Working two jobs is too much time at the computer. Trying to lighten up on the workouts because it seems I get sick a lot. I showered and then talked myself through it while I Guerlain - ed up and styled my hair - for no obvious reason at 2: 30 on a Friday afternoon. I wasn't going out last night or anything. I can lose three pounds no problem. NO PROBLEM. I'll cut out the nuts. I'll go back to kale. I've been skipping flax, I admit it. And then I went back to my office and ate the Snickers bar I'd hidden in my desk drawer the day before. When I woke, the next morning, I had my oatmeal in silence then took a walk with my coffee around the convent grounds. Just to see the sights. I wasn't far from home - just outside Baltimore and about an hour - and - a - half from our house. But there's something about being on a hilltop, in the woods, that makes you feel like you're a million miles from anywhere. I stumbled upon the Peace Garden. Years ago, on another five - day silent retreat, I had a dream about a gate just like this one. In the dream, the gate sat in the water behind my childhood home. I woke up with peace I had not known before in my life (I was about 23.) Interestingly enough, I didn't think much about that dream when I was in this peace garden. I was too busy noticing the things that people had left behind. And that's where the noticing really kicked in. As I sat on a rock, things started to take shape before my eyes. I couldn't find a blank book, so I brought this journal - - half finished from 2006 - - with plenty of room for more. In it I read, "There are no more good days. We are down to good hours, and bad hours." And yet, I would not leave for five more years. And those would be the years that I got a lot closer to the grandkids - which I wouldn't trade for anything. I'd give all the hours I have left for them, if they needed them. There were all kinds of memorials here. Who comes to light these candles? I sat on a rock in the peace garden, listening to birds singing into Spring, and watching the bamboo trees stretch in the breeze. As
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surely as I am sitting here, it changed my life. Suddenly, I saw everything. I was really there. And it was ok for me to just be there. That was the peace I found in the garden. The noticing that started with the waterfall the day before seemed to be the first, and most important, thing. Thinking back, I am actually quite proud of the fact that I made that connection to my old life so quickly - and kick the stone down the stream. I am a ruminator, after all. I had meetings, but I carried the noticing and the permission to just be t / here back inside with me. It shaped the rest of my time on the retreat. Starting with lunch. For the rest of the weekend, I let myself eat whatever I wanted. After six years of living with someone who commented on everything I put into my mouth, I wanted to just taste food. Even if it meant meat or cheese. I have been enjoying veganism, but sometimes (when it's a lot of work to cook / shop / make everything) I wind up starving myself or making unhealthy choices because there is "nothing" I can have. Which isn't all that different than what I was doing before veganism. There just isn't any meat in my bad choices. It's a way of "taking care of myself" by not taking care of myself. And the interesting thing is, I still chose not to eat meat or cheese, the difference was I gave myself the option and felt free to decide. For lunch they had lovely roasted vegetable wrap sandwiches and homemade potato chips with garden salad. Loved it. The convent had a soda fountain and I indulged liberally in root beer. And the homemade peach cobbler and thought of my dead father. (I once spent an entire afternoon peeling fresh peaches and making a peach cobbler and woke up to find my Dad had eaten the entire thing in the night. Now I understand it, but at 14? I was pretty peeved.) I bought myself a Milky Way from the vending machine and didn't allow myself to feel guilty. It was still a battle to give myself permission to enjoy the food. But I did it. I sat and appreciated that someone had prepared such wonderful food for me and all I had to do was show up. I didn't even have to wash dishes or say thank you. I thought of a visit that my friend D. made to Montana at a time when I was really worn out and I sat there like a rag doll while she prepared food in my kitchen. The only difference was maybe she didn't know how worn out I was, and maybe she didn't really want to make the wraps that much. (Thanks, D.) A moment then and now when you feel like a pebble balanced just on the very edge. You could be brushed off. You could fall off. You could remain there, in a state of tension possibly forever. You just won't know until you know. And, until then, there are good hours and bad hours spent just trying to maintain your balance. Posted at 06: 42 AM in Need To Know Basis. | Permalink I have returned from a three - day silent retreat at Bon Secours convent in Maryland. I came with zero expectations. I have done enough of these to know that what I want will be quickly pushed to the side in favor of what really needs to be Seen. If you visited my home in Montana, you don't need me to tell you why. But if you didn't, let me tell you that there was a beautiful creek and waterfall underneath our bedroom window that lulled us to sleep every night. It took me a little longer (but actually not that long) to figure it out. And so it continued. A long weekend that I came to think of as "The Noticing Project." The small stuff. That wasn't always small. You can live in the most beautiful place on the planet and not have the smallest love you need. You can live in a very small place and have so much it can hardly be contained. I spent much of this week reflecting on the difference between last year and this year. It's been exactly a year. How could the two kitties have known what to do, right then? To pose in front of the chair we always sat in, typing and reading and blogging? Because it really was The End. Up until now, it has been almost impossible for me to separate the decline of my mother's health from the viability of that marriage. When I came home from this visit two years ago, right after my Mom received a confirming diagnosis of dementia, I was sick with flu, the tendon in my left foot had ruptured and I was limping, exhausted. Arriving home, I looked to my then - husband for support but didn't get it. He asked me to do something small and when I refused, crying from tiredness, he replied, "You do NOTHING." I cried for three days straight. Harder than I've ever cried in my life. I rented an apartment, a P. O. box, I prepared
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to borrow money from my sister, I begged my priest / friend for prayers and he said a Mass for me. Tears come to my eyes writing this because I cannot believe, on reflection, how cruel that statement really was. A statement about all he really thought about me and what value I had in his life. Up until then, I could still believe that he loved me. And yet I would not leave for another year. I would spend the next year just going along with everything. I was beyond broken - hearted. I had given up. I decided I would simply take the joy where I could find it. I lived for the kids and I would not be the only woman in the world that was doing that. In Miami last week, I ran into an old friend who recently accepted a new position. She's so visibly happy, so alive in this new job. Talking about that she said that she had become so used to just making it work, creating some beauty within the boundaries of a greater dysfunction. I understood exactly what she meant. I finally made my decision in a moment when I realized that, for the rest of my life - - even though I would give up everything I thought, believed, wanted, accomplished - - it would not be enough to soothe him. And that was my purpose there - to be whoever he needed me to be in the moment. I played a guessing game every second and when I figured out the game was being rigged so I would fail, I quit. Last night, reflecting, it occurred to me that good marriages don't survive on love. Love helps, love is a good thing, but I think what makes a good, long, marriage is the respect you have for one another. When I left he did not fight it. He said he did not blame me. He said in the lawyer's office that he had always liked the "status" of being married. He gave me a hug before I drove away. We agreed we would always be able to stay in the same room for our grandchildren. We were supposed to stay friends. I went home to the next thing - to help my sister pack up my Mom's office. We literally throwing the vast majority of her life's work into the garbage. My mother had compromised so much of life - friends, family, even her relationship with her children - to do that job. And yet at the end of the day, she wasn't even here to sort through it. It went into the trash and no one cared. It was a big, sad, moment for me. Somewhere in the middle of that office packing, February of last year, my ex - husband's daughter called to tell me what he'd said and done in the last few days. I was gone. There was no one to take the hurt out on. That's the only reason I could think of to explain why he'd written hurtful things blaming her and the family for my leaving (... NO...). But if you wanted to hurt me, that's what you'd do, right? You'd hurt the people I love. You'd try to ruin relationships. So much for the goodbye hug in the driveway. He would not attend his granddaughter's graduation, but he'd send a box of useless kitchen items to me via a family member also attending her church reception. A way of being there, in the way he wanted to be. Last week, February 2012, I came back from my mother's exhausted. Being with her, trying to be present emotionally through all of this, trying to make plans and changes to a more appropriate level of care - it's always draining. No matter what, we're always chasing behind the rapid progression of her dementia. Two weeks ago we weren't sure she was ready for the memory unit, now it seems obvious. We were making early plans, now we're behind. While you're there, you do what you have to do. Time with friends was difficult to schedule and I quit trying when I realized what a bummer I was. So I tried my best to bury my own emotions and dipped into stores of energy I didn't know where there. Back home, I kind of melted. Not into tears, but into a sort of shapelessness. I went about my life as usual - a little exercise, lots of work - I was all there without really being all there. But I didn't have to be. John was home this week - entirely unusual - and without really talking about it, he made me three meals a day, tons of coffee, figured out some critically important stuff for the booming spray business and did the laundry. I apologized for myself and thanked him profusely, and felt guilty for leaning on him so heavily, but even so, I knew I didn't have to. Being supportive is his nature. Such a contrast. Yesterday, I noticed that I was actually different. Not just divorced - different, get rid - of - your - stuff different, but happy different; got - choices - different. Been - gone - one - year
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- and - I'm - already - in - three - international - magazines - different. John and I drove into DC to see a play. I confess that in a solid year, I have not been into the city. Not really. Twice to the suburbs - once to see friends and once to buy underwear. But not once downtown. And this play was seriously downtown. We drove past my college, and the monuments, and across the beautiful bridge. I was excited to see it all. Right then I realized I was cured. I am ready. I can go back now. Somehow I know, and I don't know how I know this, that I will not be leaving here again. That on Monday, I'm going to call a monastery nearby and see if I can spend a few days in silence and in thanks. And that I will not be writing about that old sadness any more. My Mom in better days, wearing a jacket she bought in Bigfork. Just four years ago. I'm in Minnesota for two weeks while my sister is on vacation. She went diving off Palau. Everyone keeps asking me, "Where's Palau?" and my answer is always, "I don't really know." It's far away. It's right here: Mom has changed a lot the last couple of months and she's [al] ready for the next level of care. It's good to spend time with her in one way, in another, it's completely exhausting. She's like a grandkid that will never grow up. That growing - up promise that kids make makes all the difference to the way you feel about caring for them; cleaning up after them. Same with pets. The unconditional love of a furry thing will make you clean up unbelievable messes - with no regrets. The Alzheimer's parent, though, is a little more complex. When she's sweet and grateful, it's a big deposit in the emotional bank account. A re - store for the wells of compassion you have for the aging parent. When she's crabby, manipulative, and controlling - like a giant toddler who desperately needs a bath - it's much harder. I took away some of her freedoms this week. I'm making her take a shower, with the assistance of an LPN. I'm having someone come in and do her meds every day. I'm having someone come and knock on the door when it is time to eat lunch and dinner. I'm taking on the familiar role of "black sheep" because I am so comfortable disappointing her I realize it may be the best thing I can ever do for my "good girl" sister - to accept responsibility for these unpopular decisions. She doesn't eat anymore because she doesn't remember to. She will eat if you hand her the food. So this day, I brought her lunch. Some wild rice soup, quinoa salad, potato chips, frosted valentine's cookies and Vernor's ginger ale. All old favorites. Putting everything on plates (that had to be washed first since they get put straight back in her cupboards after they've been used), I turned to find she had dragged the old typewriter table into the hallway for our lunch. We took a picture of the table just like my grandma used to do at every holiday meal. All the doors are shut on that side of the apartment because she thinks people are coming in at night and "bullying" her. Small green post - its with her name written on them are all over the house. You can see a couple on the bookcase. I'm hoping the extra service buys her some time in her own apartment. I'm hoping it buys my sister a little peace of mind knowing that someone is checking on my Mom five times a day. My Mom hates the idea, especially the expense. But that's because she doesn't seem to take on that her only other option is the memory unit, which is twice the price and basically zero freedom. I went to visit the memory care unit, because we hadn't actually done that yet. It's down the hall and through another locked door. I expected to be miserable in there - I was when I saw units at other facilities - but it wasn't like that at all. It reminded me of the Apple Tree Inn in Indianola, Iowa where we stayed when we visited my Mom's parents. I hope that's a good sign. In their shared kitchen - they can eat whenever they like. You know, I think I've done both. The felted sweater people came in droves but would instantly abandon me whenever I wrote about some of the things that were on my mind. It was sometimes discouraging, almost like you could hear someone saying, "I don't care what you think, I just want you to shut your pie hole and sew," as a button clicked '' unsubscribe 'in the background. I thought my writing had candor. I preferred my style to blogs that present endless accounts of bright, happy, well - scrubbed marriages and perfect children. Who can help but be disappointed by the reality of a marriage after so much buildup? We think we've come
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a long way, baby, but we're still dreaming up 'perfect' weddings and cooking photo - perfect dinners we feel too guilty to eat. No one says a word about what happens when your partner loses a job, your mother - in - law turns against you, or you gain fifty pounds because you hate your life. Maybe someone should. Sometimes I think I may have helped someone; there is so much of that whitewashing going on in the world. But I can see, now, that I was only telling partial truths myself. Because you don't want to ruin it - for yourself or for others. You seek out the beauty in the every day, wherever you can find it. You imbalance toward your strengths. I look back at the old blog and... I know I was there and what I said was true enough at the time... it is my real history. But I also feel very removed; I no longer identify that way of thinking; writing; looking at the world as my own. It's strange, but also strangely o. k. I've stopped reading a few blogs here and there. One woman was always uploading photos of herself but saying how she "never uploads photos of herself" and rounding it out with a healthy dose of how cool she used to be in the 80's, just proof that her son started listening to her old cassette tapes. Her blog is hugely popular and I felt like that was the whole point. She was always trying to remind me that she was hugely popular and creative and super perfect and after awhile, I just didn't care. I checked in some months later and saw that she had changed her tack. Not getting a book deal from the first go 'round she tried something else; disorganized "real" mother type of thing. It still doesn't work because it still lacks authenticity. Another woman had more interesting things to say but rounded out every blog post with a small complaint. And I found that got on my nerves. Like, I'm really sorry your new $10 yoga mat has a crease in it, but... quite frankly, you just sound like a whiner. And if that's your authentic self, I don't want to be your blog friend. But then, that's not really fair, either. People don't really know you from your blog. Not the all of you. I spent some time on FB today making suggestions to someone about a book cover and later it seems my suggestions turned out to be somewhat smart. And I wanted to say... "Well, yes, I'm not just a cat - loving; exercising; book - reading, People - of - Walmart. com following Vegan. I kind - of / sort - of know a lot about developing and promoting creative work. But, of course, they probably don't know that. Sometimes I try to talk about work on FB but people seem to prefer my posts about my new vintage leopard faux fur coat. In 2011: I stopped telling myself it would be different one day. I stopped Two Kitties. I stopped eating meat. I stopped wearing my clothes and bought new ones. I stopped writing, making art, cooking, answering emails, phone calls, and letters for awhile. I stopped being friends with people who asked me if I" got rich "from my divorce (I didn't) before asking how I was holding up without my grandkids close by. I also stopped being depressed and miserable, eventually. I started over. I started a new business, I started paying full - time attention to the old one again. I started a Vegan diet with the help of Jonny O and Engine 2. I started running. I started losing weight. I started buying smaller new clothes. I started to say" no "when I wanted to; this time out loud. I started talking to some people again (I'm still working on it). I loved spending time with my sister this fall, outside of the stress of my Mom's changing life - in Seattle, Winchester, and again in Minneapolis a couple of weekends ago. Last year sucked. We were in crisis mode every time we were together. I will never regret giving my whole heart to my five grandchildren. I love them so much. They are really amazing people. I hit the jackpot on that deal. I love martinis way too much. Especially the third one. But martinis are like boobs - two are great; three is a freak show. I learned. I'm back on coffee. The one thing I'd like to do again, but do it better, is all of it. I'd do all of it better. But I want five years to figure out how it should be done. Two Kitties on Reflections. Debra on Reflections. Savvy Working Gal on Reflections. The Trad on The Charm. Missy on The Charm. Missy on The Upside of Anger.
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He turned around, glanced over his shoulder at the lonely figure that he'd just passed. He looked at the man leaning against the railing, staring into the dark gray water that churned far below them. He stared at a handsome face that shouldn't hold so much sorrow. He knew what was happening, what was going to happen if things were left alone. There were two types he'd seen in his life. Those who lived and those who died. Each had a distinctive appearance, if you knew what you were looking for. He saw one of those looks on the man's face. So he turned around and walked back to stand next to the young man that seemed as if he had lost himself a long time ago. He stood there for a while before he was noticed, and the young man slowly turned to look at him with a face full of fear and longing. Deep inside eyes filled with pain he thought he saw hope buried there, a faint glimmer hiding deep inside, so faint it could be blown out by the faintest of breezes. He didn't say anything as he stood there, he just waited. He didn't smile, like he normally would have. The sun didn't belong on this dark and cloudy day. "I hope you don't mind me joining you, but you looked lonely by yourself." A sudden impulse later and the stranger was wrapped in a tight embrace. The words came to him as a burst of inspiration and he whispered into the young man's ear softly. "You'll be alright. Just turn and walk away." As I walk down the steps I think of the events that led me here. The people I live with don't know I'm leaving. They probably won't even notice until they come to ask for rent. They can sell off the rest of my stuff to pay my part. I doubt I'll ever see any of them again, even though we used to be really good friends. They were my only friends, really, but then they all found their own lives and I got left behind. They stopped paying attention to me and I stopped trying to fit into their lives. I tried to kill myself yesterday. Everyday on my way home I walk over this one bridge. Hardly anyone goes there, which is partly why I do. I'd always stop and look at the waters rushing far below and wonder what it would be like to fall into that cold oblivion. Everyday I think 'there's still something worth living for' and 'I'm stronger than this, I can make it through'. But none of those thoughts came to mind yesterday and I was frozen where I stood, staring at the water, unable to move away. I was really going to do it. I was a step away. But then he showed up. And he hugged me. He helped me walk away. I don't even know his name, but I know the sound of his voice speaking words I can't remember and the embrace I'll never forget. Which brings me to now, as I leave behind the life that no longer holds anything of value. In a way I really did die today. I'm no longer the same person. I've left everything behind and I'm going to start over brand new. I'm moving out. Not sure where I'm moving too, I just know I need to get out. I shoved my life into two book bags and I'm walking away. It's a lot simpler than I thought it would be. It's like the invisible chains that were holding me back, all those little assumptions about what I should do, fell from the bridge instead of me. They're gone and so am I. I don't need to quit my job because I was fired yesterday. Not like I care really. I'm glad it's gone. My boss was a sexual harassing pervert who can go fuck himself. Duty and company loyalty were the only things that kept me there this long. No, I think that's a little too grand for me. More like laziness and denial. If I had one job that was bearable that means I didn't have to go looking for another. I didn't have to try. Maybe this time I'll go for something with a lot of female coworkers. I get along better with women anyways. I leave my key on the counter, somewhere in plain sight, and let the door lock behind me as I leave. The last step out of my old apartment had a ring of finality to it. The drab hallways don't look so depressing when I'm leaving them behind, and the stairs don't even creek when I walk down to the first floor. I step into the sunlight and take a deep breath of the city air. For some reason the sky seems brighter today than it has been for years and I start to whistle as I leave my life behind. I fidgeted with the pen in my hand. Yes, I was well in the sense that I was still alive. It seemed a little embarrassing now to have been caught attempting suicide. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks." A lot of things were
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loaded into that last word, but I got the impression that the stranger understood. 'Thank you for saving my life,' I wanted to say but one word of it was all I could manage. "No problem." A blinding smile was directed at me, and I realized this was the first time in a long while that someone had smiled at me like that. It was infectious. I smiled back, just a tiny upturning of my lips but more than I'd been able to manage recently. Belatedly I realized that I should be working. "Can I get you anything?" I'd just found this job and I didn't want to loose it after only a week. I knew exactly why the question was asked. We were both skirting around saying the outright truth. For some reason I found myself answering with complete honesty. "It's getting better." "Good." As I passed the coffee across the counter, I was handed a business card in exchange. "If there's anything I can do for you, let me know. I know it sounds a little weird but I really mean that." I stared at him silently for a few seconds, touched that a complete stranger would be so open. "Umm … I'm looking for a place to stay right now … If you know anyone who's renting or needs a roommate or something …" I wasn't quite sure why I said that. It wasn't my style to ask for charity, but it seemed right to ask this man. I trusted him, more than anyone I'd ever known. The man looked at me with a bit of surprised amusement, and rubbed the back of his head. "Actually I'm looking for a roommate. My last one moved out a couple weeks ago. It's pretty cheap rent when split between two people. I know this sounds a little sketchy, but I assure you it's legitimate." Well, that was certainly a surprise turn of events. Live with the stranger who stopped my suicide attempt? It sounded so strange when I thought about it, but it was better than sleeping in the park like I had been. Again the man smiled that blinding smile that seemed characteristic of him. "Really? That's great." The stranger took the card back and scribbled an address and phone number on the back. "That's my home address. Give me a call before you come over or you can just show up. I'm not planning on going anywhere tonight." I took the hand, felt the warmth of his hand around mine and remembered what those arms felt like. "Nice to meet you, Daniel. I'm Evan." I didn't even look up from my textbook. That made things easier for all of them. If they thought I noticed then they'd feel bad and invite me. After all, we were friends. The two men were literally talking to one another over my head. But it was easier this way so that I didn't have to pretend I fit in. Easier for them so they didn't have to put up with my poor company, and despite their smiles I knew they didn't want me with them. We were friends but that didn't mean much. So I kept my head down, staring intently at my textbook even though I hadn't read a word of it in the past fifteen minutes. But they didn't notice that I hadn't turned the page. They never noticed a lot of things about me because they never bothered to look. In a way that was easier for me. That way I didn't have to lie and make excuses. I stared at the page in front of me, letting the words drift over me like the conversation my roommates were having. Absently, the nail on my index finger scratched over the inside of my thumb. After a few minutes they left, and I was alone again. It was much the same as when they were here. I didn't say anything. I didn't even really move, at least not much. I did lift my head a little to look into the open kitchen to my right. On the counter I could see the top of the knife rack, the black handles sticking into the air ready to be taken out and used. It was a ritual for me, almost. I'd study in the living room. My roommates would go out without me. Then began my little staring contest with the handles and eventually I'd look away. It took longer to look away than it used to. Before I'd tell myself I was being stupid and crazy and I wasn't that weak. Now I was wondering just how weak I really was and did it really matter? My nail scrapped particularly hard and I forced my hands apart. Looking down at my hands instead of the knives I stared dully at the few light red scratches that dotted my hands. There weren't many. That'd attract attention. It looked like I'd been scratched by a cat, a really angry cat. That'd make a good excuse if I was asked. No one ever did, not for the last two months. My scratching was starting to hurt but I
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didn't stop. I never could bring myself to cut my fingernails. I nearly jumped out of my skin, mind suddenly pulled back from memories to the present day. There were no college roommates. There was no textbook in my lap. I stared blankly at the concerned face in front of me. Who was this man? David? Danny? Oh right, that's it. Daniel. The guy that stopped me from killing myself. I was sitting in Daniel's apartment. A few minutes ago, I'd finished putting my luggage in my new room. The concerned face turned into a frown as Daniel picked up one of my hands. I was as surprised as Daniel to see the scratch on my thumb, almost bleeding. When had I done that? I couldn't remember. "I used to think about cutting myself." I looked down at the pale, unmarked skin of my arms. "A long time ago, before the thing on the bridge. It wasn't to kill myself or anything. I just thought it might help somehow." I shook my head, even though the answer was written on my exposed flesh. "No. It seemed like cheating. Like I couldn't handle it, which is true. In a way I think it was because I thought I wasn't worthy of hurting myself, like I wasn't good enough to. I'm not sure how much sense that makes but to me I had no worth and cutting myself seemed like I was pretending to be better than I really was." Daniel's grip tightened on my hand and he held me tighter, rubbing circles on my back. "Scratching was safe 'cause I couldn't accidentally kill myself from it. No blood to cover up, at least not normally." I wanted to die so much but I refused. For a long time I wouldn't let myself admit that that was what I wanted and it seemed unreal, because then I'd wallow in suffering one night and then be happy the next day and I couldn't really explain why. I thought I was just being stupid. "I stared at Daniel's shirt for a long while." I don't know. "I couldn't think of anything that had made the day on the bridge particularly bad, aside from being fired. But even that hadn't come as a terrible loss." I think it was just because I was there. I was out walking and I saw the bridge and I thought I could end it. I'm not even sure if I really would have gone through with it or not. "There was such a sincere look in Daniel's eyes that I wasn't sure what to say in response. I let myself be pulled back against Daniel's chest." Do you have any family that you need to contact? "" They don't care. "Thoughts of my mother and father drifted though my mind, images of being alone all the time, and I remembered birthdays and holidays spent by myself because my parents didn't care. I had to apologize to the teachers because parents couldn't come to conferences and family events. I said they were working, when it was really just that they wanted nothing to do with me. I was the child they hadn't wanted." Yes. "I could feel it even now, the cold blackness that had settled onto me at home and carried through to my college years. They didn't love me and it felt like it was my fault." No, but they don't. "They would never have said anything outright. They said it was a kindness to send me away to college on the other side of the country. If they could have sent me to another country they probably would have." Because they've never tried to call me once in the last two years. I haven't been home, even for summer vacation. "The ringing tones of an unanswered phone echoed in his ears." I had roommates. I left without telling any of them. "What if I had told them? Would they have tried to plead with me to stay or would they have shrugged indifferently and left me alone to pack?" I don't know. "If they did look for me, would I be happy? Did I want to see any of them again? Would I miss any of them as time went on? Daniel smiled at me, a tiny smile but with an abundance of warmth in it." Sometimes it helps to just vocalize the things you've been keeping to yourself. Next time you feel depressed or even if you just want to, sit down with me and talk. It doesn't matter if you talk about what's bothering you or anything like that, but try talking about something, okay? "I froze, stopped in the middle of the park as that familiar voice called my name. I didn't dare look over my shoulder. I wasn't ready to face this, so soon. Instead, I ran, taking off into one of the groves of trees scattered through the park in blind panic. Really, I should have known that I couldn't outrun him. I'd never been good at sports and he'd been
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one of the best. So it wasn't a surprise when I was tackled from behind. We hit the ground hard and unfortunately I took most of the impact. I whimpered and I think that was what got him to get off of me so fast, though he held my wrist as if afraid I would run away again. I would have too. I was scared, too scared to move so I just lay where I was and didn't turn around. He rolled me until I faced him and this position would have been a little strange if I didn't know he was a straight as they came. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't think of a damn thing. So I started crying. Really, it was an appropriate reaction considering how scared I felt. For the second time in the past month I was shocked as I was comforted. He held me so tightly I thought I was going to break, and I did, a little on the inside, as the sobs came forth. "I'm sorry." That was the only thing I could think to say. It seemed right so I said it again and again, over and over in an endless stream and I almost started to cry again but his hand over my mouth stopped me. I realized then that we were sitting up, with me cradled in his lap and to someone passing by this would look very inappropriate. We didn't care. I didn't mean to say that. I realized how bad an idea it was to say that afterwards, when he glared at me with such obvious anger that he was shaking, trying to control himself. I couldn't move, his hands on my arms had tightened to the point of fierce pain and I'm sure there would be bruises coming later. "I …" I didn't know what to say, how to phrase it. "I just … I thought you didn't like me. That you didn't want me around. That I was a burden. I …" I was hurting again but once I started talking I couldn't stop. "I thought you didn't care so I left. I … I don't know why I thought that but I did. I still do, a little. I can't help it. I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry." The anger softened and I felt like crying again. "We do care you know. But it's hard for us to know what going on when you don't talk to us. You never say anything so we stopped trying." He looked at me for a long time without saying anything. "It's okay to speak up, to say you want company. You aren't alone." Those words brought a new flood of tears and I berated myself for being so stupid. "I'm sorry, Jimmy. I'm really sorry." Jimmy sighed and gathered me into a hug again. When I quieted he spoke. "So, where exactly did you disappear to for the past two weeks?" I blushed, feeling really stupid about saying this out loud. My face still hurt from where he'd hit me. "I'm staying with a guy I met." A bit of his anger came out again, though I don't think it had ever really gone very far away. "You're living with a stranger? Is that safe? How well do you know this guy?" "He's the one who stopped me from killing myself." I watched a flicker of sadness cross Jimmy's face and then pass and I wondered if maybe I would have been missed. No, I didn't wonder. Now I knew and I realized I'd been so very stupid recently. "He's nice." That was a bad start but it was a start nonetheless. "We talk and he's been helping me." I blinked as Jimmy stood above me with a hand outstretched. Automatically I took it and started following him out of the secluded grove. As an afterthought I asked where we were going. "To meet your roommate. I'm not going to let you stay with some creep. I need to see that this guy's decent otherwise you're coming back with me." Jimmy stopped and turned as they reached the end of the secluded grove. They hovered on the edge between civilization and muted wilderness. "How they react is up to them, but they won't hate you." I shouldn't have been surprised that they showed up, one by one, at the coffee shop over the next couple days. But I was surprised each time one of my old friends walked in and with each of them I felt part of myself coming back. When I went home at night I'd talk to Daniel. I kept going over how stupid I'd been and he helped me understand a bit why I'd thought that way. It was all inside me, all this self - hatred and guilt. I thought I wasn't worth being loved so I pushed everyone away and created my own shell of loneliness. Not all of it was imagined. There was some reality in what I painted, some real cause. My parents never called.
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Never even knew I was gone because I didn't exist to them anymore. That was where the real loneliness began but I couldn't blame it on them. They didn't love me but I didn't love myself either. Because of that I couldn't see that there were people who did love me, people who really cared. I know that now. There's so many people that do care about me that I didn't know about. I snapped out of my thoughts and walked out of the room, throwing a mock glare at Jimmy who simply grinned back. We have an understanding now. I come talk to him, tell him what I really think and he listens to me until I'm done. That's one part of our agreement, that he listens. The other part is that he gets to smack me if I say something stupid. It helps clear my head, clear the air and get everything out in the open. My coworkers were concerned about the bruises but I explained a little and things have been going smoother recently so that he doesn't need to hit me. As I walk into the front room, Daniel smiles that brilliant smile of his. For a moment, I ignore the cooing of my roommates as I smile back and he kisses me lightly on the cheek as a greeting. I moved back in with my friends a few months ago. It was my own idea, not because there was anything wrong with living with Daniel but I wanted more space. I didn't want to become dependant on him for support so I moved out. We still talk often, over the computer mostly or the phone, and he comes in every day to the coffee shop between breaks at work. We talk less about my past and more about the present, and the future. We're not really dating, though my friends all tease me that we are. In a way, that's kind of true but it's not. We don't want anything formal just yet. We're both still learning. Okay, so maybe I'm the only one that's still working things out but Daniel's okay with that. He's helped me so much that I don't think I can ever really thank him enough. Things are going slow but that's okay. That's the way I need things to go, I think. I'm taking it day by day. Share this: EmailPrintTwitterTumblrMoreGoogleFacebookLike this: Like Loading... Liked it? Take a second to support Gryvon - Writer of LGBTQ Erotic Fiction on Patreon! Tags: Pairing: M / M - Suicide Leave a Reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published. Comment * Name Email Website Authenticate this comment using OpenID. Notify me of follow - up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Post navigation Post was not sent - check your email addresses! Email check failed, please try again Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email.% d bloggers like this:
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Last night, I had Tower Heist on tv in the background. If you're not familiar with it, rich guy steals money from workers in the apartment / condo building, and they steal it back. There's a bunch of sneaking around. Then, last night, I had a dream where I was James Bond. I was visiting this pretty fancy estate with some other male friend, who was not as adept at sneaking around and spying as I was. For some reason, we needed to scope out one particular bedroom before we could rob it / re - appropriate the belongings / return things to people they belonged to. We were ready to sneak back out, and so I just did one of those neat little sneaky rolls across the hallway (assuming no one was there to see, luckily there wasn't anyone). I got across, and hid behind the door to the super big staircase across the hall. My accomplice was still in the bedroom, afraid to come out, because now someone was in the hallway, and if he came out, he'd be caught! He knew there was someone coming because he had the door open a crack and peeked out before getting out. A couple weeks ago, back when I posted a whole bunch of dreams on the same night, I had another one.... (gotta find a better way to start these things off.. 'I had a dream' durrr, of course I did, that's the point of the blog). But at the time, I was tired of typing them up, and decided to save this one for later, and now it is later, so here it is: However, my geography was messed up again, as it tends to be in my dreams. In order to get to Disney (the one in Florida), we had to go through Seattle.... Yes, the Seattle that is in the complete opposite corner of the country. But.... whatever. It's a dream, let's just roll with it. We arrived in Seattle, and went to a hotel, one of those big rooms you can rent out, and where they'll put out fruit platters and other crappy, typical finger foods. We went in one of those rooms, where we met up with my family, and a bunch of other people. I guess this was supposed to be kind of a meet and greet thing? Not sure. Everyone was eventually planning on going to Disney though. It was late afternoon / early evening by this point. (No idea how long we had been walking for though.) Most people decided that they would just go on to Disney (which was somehow just a mile or two away on the other side of downtown Seattle, but also in Florida, and also I'm like 99% sure the Seattle in my head is 0% identical to the real one) the next day, but Sydney and I and some other random guy we were hanging out with all decided that we'd just continue on that night since it was still light out, and since it wasn't that bad of a neighborhood. It is a crappy map, because I spent like three minutes on it. But basically, we just had to walk down a street surrounded on either side by really tall, grey, slightly eerie buildings. You would think that the most trouble we'd have would be getting mugged, right? Or maybe shot? Creepy street in a strange city? Nope. We decided to keep going up... and got up to the roof. Turns out, this building was a rectangle, not a square shape when viewed from the top. Also, the two buildings on either side of it were much taller, like probably another 10 - 20 floors taller. This building, or at least the roof, was only like, 30 feet along the short edge (Who builds something like that? Really?). It was also really windy. And looked like it was about to start raining. Sydney immediately gave up all hope of ever being rescued, and sat down, opened the can of spaghetti - o's she had with her (why, Sydney, why??), and ate it. Even though it was the only food we had. Just ate it all right then. She went a bit crazy, and was all, 'look, I can use the lid as a picture frame for this picture of my boyfriend!' (It was not the best picture frame ever made). There was a rope hanging down from the roof of one of the adjacent buildings, and I figured that if we could get the rope down, it would be long enough for us to each rappel down over opposite sides of the building, and then one of us would just have to walk along the street on the other side of the building (which didn't have street lights, was really creepy, and probably did not lead to Disney). (Couldn't just go around the building back to the street we were originally on because there wasn't room to walk between the buildings.) But I couldn't figure out how to get the rope down, so that didn't happen.
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In this dream, my closet exploded, and I had SO MANY CLOTHES. They were everywhere. Didn't help that instead of just packing them all up, I decided to sort them out as to what I wanted to keep & what I wanted to donate. This led to even more of a mess, since now they weren't even folded. I was exploring in a forest with some people, when we came upon a field. There was a wooden fence running through part of it (the kind with two railings... you know, typical wooden fence). Scattered throughout the field were little fuzzy blobs. One of the guys that was with me picked one of them up, and it started vibrating. We were all really excited / confused, etc. about the vibrating fuzzy things, and were talking to each other more than we were paying attention to the vibrating fuzzball. Then the guy who picked up the fuzzball kind of focused more on the fuzzball rather than the rest of us, and was able to 'open his mind' corny as that sounds. Turns out the fuzzballs communicated telepathically when they vibrated! And they were all just full of happy thoughts and happiness and they were awesome! But they were just sitting around in a field in the middle of a forest. Later, we got back and looked up on a map, and it turned out that the land we found them on belonged to the government, and that logically, the fuzzballs (that kind of looked like tribbles, but not quite as rotund) were a government experiment. There was some other government owned land near where we found the fuzzballs, and we planned to explore it some other time to see if there were more fuzzballs. Jake and I were living in a fancy apartment that had an abnoxiously huge bathroom. As in, it was like a whole room. And the shower was completely separate from the rest of the bathroom, so it wasn't weird to have someone else in there using it while you were in the shower. Anyway, I was taking a shower, when Jake's two female, sporty - jock - type cousins showed up. They had just showed up to stay with us for a couple of days (I suppose). Jake was giving them a tour of the apartment, and had finished it up with the bathroom. He left to go take care of something in the kitchen, and the two cousins (who were tall and sporty and had awesome hair) were ooh - ing and ahh - ing over the bathroom, and they saw our fancy towels, and were like "Ooh, I hope we get to use these!" "They're so soft!" But by then I was finished with my shower, and stuck my head out, and was like, "actually, that's my towel." And they immediately dropped the towels on the ground, and were all "ew! We touched her towel!" Then they scampered off, and I was left to pick my towel up off the ground. In this dream, I was in a wheelchair for some reason. Broken leg maybe. I was also in this country (pretty sure it wasn't Canada this time) where it was super snowy all over. I needed to catch a train to the airport, but because it was rush hour and I didn't know where I was going, I ended up getting on the wrong one. I realized this when I noticed the train heading west out of town instead of south. (I guess the city was kind of oval shaped, so it was really obvious when it headed out of town and into the wilderness, instead of heading south through the rest of town.) Anyway, it turned out the train was heading to the next city over, that was like ~ 60 miles away or something. So, because it was a really fast train, I could just stay on it and still get back to the airport before my flight since I had budgeted a lot of extra time. So I'm on the train, and then I think it crashed? Somehow I was suddenly not on the train anymore, and in the snow. Which is weird, because the snow was probably like 20 feet deep, and there was only enough plowed for the train to get through. Anyway, I was out in the snow, and then it was like there was an old fantasy land half buried in the snow. Not like a fantasy * waves fingers * land, more like an amusement park. And it was all ruined and kind of need, but also probably dangerous since it was old and abandoned and half buried in the snow. Last weekend I had a dream where I was at some party Lambert was throwing. It was in a house, but it didn't have normal house - type bathrooms. Instead, they were like when you go to the bathroom in public and there are several stalls in the same room. At some point during the party, I realized I needed to go to the bathroom, but since this was the first time at Lambert's house, I asked him where it was. Surprisingly, there wasn't a ladies room. Just a men's room. But I had to go bad enough that
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I just said screw it, I'll use the men's room. It had four stalls, and they all had something wrong with them. Two were out of toilet paper. One didn't flush. The last one's door didn't close all the way. A few days ago, I had a dream where Jake and I were flying back to the US from Scotland. We had a choice of two routes, both had layovers and took about the same amount of time. One of them stopped over at Easter Island, and gave you enough time to get out and explore a bit before continuing on to the US. Now, you're probably asking me how this makes any sense, because Easter Island is nowhere near on the way from Scotland to the US. It's not only in the wrong hemisphere, it's in the wrong ocean. But you are forgetting how my brain works. As I am beginning to believe from dreams I've been having recently, my subconscious thinks that EVERYWHERE should be where Canada is. There was the dream where we road - tripped up to Scotland, there was the dream where I flew to the mysterious Hanavar.... and now the dream where I stopped by Easter Island. Although, I do have to admit, that at least in this dream Scotland was where it belonged, over next to Europe. Because I know this, there won't be an addition to my Brain - Canada map drawing, since then the flight plan would make even less sense. So here is a rough screen capture of where Easter Island was in my head, and our flight plans. We landed at Easter Island, and got to leave all our luggage on the plane, which was nice, because we didn't have to worry about it at all. We were walking around (landscape looked suspiciously like Scotland), and found a goat. It had a collar, so we were like, lets take it with us! And it just kind of followed us around, occasionally we'd tug on its collar to make it follow us if it stopped to eat or something. Got to this weird area. There was gently sloping land (just open grassland), and there was a rickety rope / wood bridge going across this opening - dropped down maybe 20 - 30 feet to a small pond or something. The opening was circular, and the land sloped so that the opening was angled. Left side of the opening was probably 20 feet higher than the middle, and the right side would be probably another 10 - 15 feet lower, except for a weird outcropping of rock that came from the right side and went up ~ 8 ft and then extended over the circle about a third. The bridge was a third of the way in from the right side, and went across the circle, under the rock outcrop. (So, if you were standing in the middle of the bridge, and looked to the left side of the hole, you'd just see the vertical wall that then slopes down along the edges of the circle to where the bridge meets the edges. If you looked right, you'd see the vertical wall coming up and then arching over your head, and past it ~ 1 ft.) If my artistic ability was able to handle more than squares and drawing flight paths, I'd just draw this, but I suck at drawing, so you get this crappy description instead. Anyway, we got to the bridge, and for whatever reason, decided we waned to go across it instead of around the pond / hole. The goat REFUSED to move. It did not like the bridge and wanted no part of our shenanigans. When I woke up, I was like, "I should tell Jake about this dream." But then I forgot. That night, I had another dream where I was just freaking out about "what happened to the goat!?" all because I hadn't told real - life Jake about the dream goat. Somehow, I had skipped the smaller coupons (or had used them previous to this KK visit), and turned in my 'buy a dozen, get a dozen' coupon to get a dozen regular KK donuts, and a dozen of these chocolate - ginger / some other holiday spice limited time donuts that were apparently the best thing ever. I took my boxes and went back over to sit down with Sheree and the other people. We didn't eat them or anything, just had the box sitting there and we were talking. Then Barry walked over and started chatting with us about donuts. I was super excited (probably all the sugar in the air, I'm surprised Sheree wasn't crazier) and wanted to go look at all the donuts in the display case, so Barry went with me. While I was up there talking to him, a family came in and bought a dozen donuts and some muffins / cupcakes. I feel like they were muffins, but there was definitely frosting on top, so they must have been cupcakes. I didn't know they sold cupcakes, and Barry was like, "yup!" and showed me all the kinds they had. Apparently the lady in the family had picked out the 'mother's day cupcake' which had caramel frosting
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, and someone else in that family had gotten a chocolate one. These were giant cupcakes. Easily 4 - 5 "across. So then I decided to get some cupcakes, and magically had the appropriate coupon to get one free. The guy at the register was like," you know, all these coupons expire tomorrow (St. Patrick's Day), and I doubt we'll get many people in, so here, you can have all these, "and handed me a stack of coupons that was about an inch thick. Cue more excitement! Went back to sit down with Sheree et. al. and showed them my coupons, and then Sheree wanted to get cupcakes too, and then everyone I was with wanted free donuts, and so we had a giant pile of donut boxes. In the first one, James and I got dropped off at the grocery store by our moms for whatever reason. After we were done shopping (I assume, although we didn't have any bags with us), we went back out to wait for our ride to pick us up. It was cold and snowy and gross out, and I was going to go back and wait in the lobby - ish area, when James noticed that the car we were standing next to was unlocked. He was like, no, look, we can wait in this car. He walked around to the driver's side and got in. I was torn between waiting with him and walking back across the slushy parking lot to the store, and gave in and got in the car with him. Somehow he got it started (with no key and no hot - wiring) and started driving off in it. I yelled at him that he couldn't steal a car, and he was all, 'Amanda, you're no fun.' He turned back around and parked the car in a different parking space from where we found it. In the second dream, I was wandering around the grocery store (which I'm just assuming is Weggies, since it's kind of the best grocery store) with Sheree and Jake. We came across a whole bunch of other people there. I guess we must have been meeting up just to hang out, but were buying lunch from Weggies and eating it there? Not entirely sure. Anyway, there were a ton of people, including Belinda, Aleeza, James, etc. all sitting together at a table meant for not as many people as were sitting at it, and I'm pretty sure we were all just waiting for our parents to come pick us up. We were going to Hanavar to attend an awards ceremony because dad was getting one for something. Before the actual ceremony there was a buffet dinner, with an absolutely enormous line. As in, there were hundreds of people in it. So Kevin and I snuck out to explore the city / town of Hanavar. We found a middle school that was open - it looked like at least parts of it were built of sticks and mud, but we went in just to check it out. There was tons of awesome kid - artwork covering all the walls, and we ran into a really friendly teacher who told us about how awesome the teachers and kids were, but how they wished they could afford a better building / teaching materials, etc.. After chatting with her, we realized that we should probably get back to the awards ceremony / banquet. We were able to get back in line behind mom & dad, next to Aline. Aline was there to hang out (also possibly because dad had an extra ticket, and who wouldn't want to go to Hanavar?), and had been chatting with dad about whatever his award was for to distract him from noticing that Kevin and I had run off for a half hour. We got back in line and passed it off as having gone looking for the restrooms. That was pretty much the end of the dream. I feel like Aline played a bigger part in it than just holding our place in line, but I know that it was Kevin on the airplane and running around the school with me. And I really didn't do this dream any justice with my explanations, because it was so colorful and fantastic, so I'm going to try and find some pictures that explain it better. This is where Hanavar is in Canada. Note that I have included my previous modification to Canada's geography in this map, so that you can keep track of where I've been. I have also demolished a lot of Canada. The plane was flying in, and I was sitting on the right side of the plane, so looking down on Hanavar when approaching from the south - west, the castle and most of the town is sitting on top of a mountain overlooking a lake. The other side of the lake has mountains all around it, and there's snow everywhere. The castle kind of looks like this one, I tried finding a picture of the town / school, but didn't see anything that reminded me of them. Also, dad was totally wearing one of those awesome totally decked out royal outfits - you know the type, gold with the red / blue sash and all the medals? Pretty awesome. In the first
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dream, I was in some sort of classroom. * I think that the class was going to have some sort of holiday party or something, because people were being assigned food to bring in. Somehow it ended up that James and I were responsible for bringing banana muffins. Now, normally I make them from scratch, but in the dream, they were being made from box - mixes. Also, we each had to make / bring ONLY six. This resulted in a giant argument, because that meant that we'd both have to buy a box, and use half an egg, and why couldn't James come over so we could use one box and make all 12 at the same time? But there's dream - logic for you. Each had to use half a box and toss the extra. Couldn't even make a dozen and keep half for myself. I was attending Penn State * and trying to find someplace to live. My aunt and uncle lived like 15 - 20 minutes away and were thinking of moving, so I was going to buy their house and live there. (IRL, they do not live anywhere near Penn State.) Anyway, they were out of the house (shopping? on vacation?) and I was visiting, just kind of checking it out and seeing what kind of changes (paint) I'd want to make when I moved in. All their stuff was still there. All of a sudden, I hear someone knocking on the door, so I went downstairs, and it was a real estate agent with a couple who wanted to look at the house. I was just like, um, no, go away, I'm buying this house, so you don't need to look at it. But at that moment, a random girl shows up, and said that she could show them around, it'd be no problem! Apparently she was renting a room that I hadn't gotten around to looking in yet, and knew that the house was going to get sold, but she just figured she'd keep renting her room from the new owner. Lots of mis - communication going on. Eventually things got sorted, and I bought the house and the girl kept renting her room. Kind of a boring dream. I got a call from the hiring manager, saying that they wanted to offer me the job, and could I start on Monday? I of course, accepted the offer, and went to work. The company kind of turned out (in the dream) to be kind of a weird oil - services kind of company. I got a tour of the office area from a girl, and then she took me out to see the other buildings. One that we went to was knee - deep with a really thick mud. The workers in the building were collecting something (water? thats what it kind of looked like) from pipes that came down from the ceiling, and everyone was really muddy. But they were all happy and enjoyed their jobs. Now, the workers were all dressed for this, but I was wearing nice pants and flats... so I'm pretty sure I lost the flats in the mud. There was a giant classroom with probably close to 200 people in it. The center of the classroom was basically a giant rectangular pit, about 30 'wide by 60' long, and probably 20 'deep. The desks were the typical one armed desks everyone had in high school, and were arranged in rows of 4 facing the pit. The teacher (who I think was that 8th grade social studies teacher we had who locked a class in the classroom one time, don't remember her name) had a bucket with slips of paper with everyone's names on them. Once everyone had them, we were supposed to find our partner. (Now that I'm awake, this seems weird because that would mean that the person whose name you have wouldn't necessarily have your name, but thats how it worked in the dream... or at least, that's how it was supposed to work.) The name I drew was something like' Bunni Smith, 'I am 100% positive on the first name (and the spelling), and I know the last name was something common. Most of the students knew each other so it was easy to find your partner, but there were some unfamiliar faces. There was one girl a few rows over from me that looked like she might be a Bunni, so I asked her if she was, and she was like, no, I think that she sits over there (on the other side of the pit). But by the time I started heading over to the other side of the room, nearly everyone had found their partner and was sitting down with them. The teacher called the last six of us without partners over to her and paired us up. Not sure who three of the people were, but James, Barry and I were in the group. I ended up getting paired with James. The point of this whole exercise was to do an ice breaker activity, which is weird when most of the people already know each other. But this was no ordinary ice breaker. At the bottom of
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the pit was a pool. The pool had all these ball bearings floating on top of it, and somehow a subwoofer was involved. The teacher had us all line up around the edge of the pit and flipped a switch or something. The lights turned off and it got all disco - y and when the subwoofer thumped, the ball bearings would jump and change what shape they were making. The teacher explained that we were to get to know our partners and find out something new & unique about them to share with the class. We would then have to take that fact and somehow incorporate it into a ball bearing performance, which would involve figuring out how to program it to work. Jake and I were at a race track (think horse racing) but it was only about the size of a high school track / football stadium. There were little dogs, perhaps chihuahuas, although I feel like they were a bit bigger and definitely didn't have the chihuahua heads. They all had these neat little harnesses on that weighed them down. Before the race stared, fuses were lit that connected to the harnesses, once the fuse got to the harness, it melted something inside (solder / wax) that had a low melting point. This released the heavy part of the weight from the harness so the dogs could take off. They all had on different neon colored harnesses to tell them apart. When the dogs got to the finish line, the announcer guy called out that the magenta, salmon and yellow dogs had won, and for the people who bet on them to come down to the finish line for their Manhattans. The drinks were in glasses that matched the color of the dogs. I guess I grabbed the wrong one, because then there was a group of sorority - type girls grouped around the girl who had bet on the magenta dog, and she had the salmon glass, but it's not like it mattered because all three of us got the same drink. Let me start off by saying that despite not posting for almost a month, I have been having a ton of dreams. The problem has been that I'll have one, wake up when it's over in the middle of the night, think it over, and decide that yes, I'll be able to remember this in the morning. Then I end up waking up and not remembering it at all, or remembering one tiny detail that is useless without the rest of the dream, and so not worth writing up. The first one was about and epic trip to Scotland. But a Scotland that was located much closer to Canada than England. Let me draw you a map. Anyway. I was at home and hanging out with Elliott and Gary. We decided that we wanted to do a ten day trip to Scotland, and kind of bounce around cities and sights and maybe do a little sightseeing in Canada too. So we plotted out a route. Somehow though, word got out to people. And then EVERYONE wanted to go. Let me list just a few of the people who were involved in this dream: Kevin, Erik, some more SciOly kids (mostly just the guys), Stephanie, Sydney, Aline, Sheree, some other random SWE girls, Juliana..... and there were probably another 20 people. Originally we (Elliott, Gary and I) were planning on just staying at hostels. But once the millions of people decided they all wanted to come, we had to switch to hotels. But then that got expensive, so we decided that we would camp and drive around in RVs. So then we had to gather up camping equipment and food and stuff and pack. But my dream skipped over this part and straight to being in Scotland. It was night time, and time to set up the tents. However no one wanted to do it, and so it was a pain in the butt to make people do what they were supposed to be doing. I feel like Erik was supposed to be in charge of organizing people to set up tents, but he was too busy playing with a computer, because I remember yelling at him about being distracted. Then, once everything was set up and people had eaten, Juliana waltzes (literally, she was dancing) in, carrying a super elaborate wedding - looking cake. Apparently it was her birthday and she got a super fancy cake * and was bringing us (Stephanie, Sydney, Aline, Sheree, other SWE girls) the leftovers. It was really good cake though. Then I assume everyone slept, because the next thing I remember, we're trying to get everyone to pack things up so we can all get in the RVs and go to the next place we wanted to visit. But then people were complaining about not knowing where to put the plates and that they lost something and couldn't find it. In my second dream, Jake and I lived in what I assume was an apartment, although it could have been a house, because we were having other people move in with us too, we had just been the first ones to get there. We had already set up the living room to have bookshelves EVERYWHERE, and had already put most of our books on them. Our new roommates were Aleeza
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and Thomas. In my dream, I'm pretty sure Aleeza was single and Thomas had a crush on her. Anyway, Aleeza moved in next, and claimed her own bookshelf. Between the three of us, we pretty much had all the shelves filled. Then Thomas showed up * * and wanted to add his books to the collection, but there wasn't an empty bookshelf for him to claim, so he was going to have to spread his out on all the bookshelves and use the empty shelves that Jake, Aleeza and I weren't using. Then I started freaking out about what if someone gets confused and moves out and steals all my books?!?! So then I tried to find some sticky notes to label which shelves had whose books on them, but none of the sticky notes were sticky enough, and so I finally woke up because I was angry at the sticky notes not working.: (
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A last - ditch effort, but instead of a Superbowl win on the line, it was a life. A beautiful, precious, sacred life. A life that mattered dearly to the one who lived it, and to the ones who called him family. The skinny, frightened, bruised and scarred pig was not ready to die, but the smells and sounds around him assured him that was the plan. So, when the transport truck opened, he leapt and made a break for safety. The humans went after him, yelling scarily. He scrambled, dove, spun and ran for all he was worth. They were in hot pursuit, but somehow, Grace intervened. He lost them. Trembling, he hid under a pile of hay, exhausted and out of options. A silent plea rose from his trembling body. "Save me," he beseeched mutely, "Please." An angel whose job was to save horses found him quivering in fear. She begged the "kill buyer" in whose custody the pig had fallen, to spare his life. He heard her, and took mercy. "I'll tell you what," he said, "I'll give you a grace period." She had 24 hours to find him sanctuary. But now what was she to do? Angels who save horses don't necessarily know where to bring lost pigs, and 24 hours is not a lot of time to find those places. And it was Superbowl Sunday evening. Who on earth was even going to be around to answer the phone? She called more angels, from New York to Canada, and one by one, they joined in the search. Soon, the little pig had a whole army of angels working on his behalf. Safe haven was found for him at Indraloka, where we all cried with joy at adding another beloved to our family. Finally, he arrived. Under the bruises and wounds, every bone was visible. And yet, his eyes were filled with hope. I cried at the beauty of it - this pure, unadulterated Śraddhā. Śraddhā is the intersection between faith and mindfulness. To me, it embodies the notion that we need to take action for our own well - being, but also to remember that we are not acting alone - that there are strong forces of love that work with us and protect us even as we work on our own behalf. So, Śraddhā is faith, hope, love, and action all in one. And this pig, with his light - filled eyes, and his leap towards freedom, was the perfect example of this. How, I wondered, in tears again, had this pig managed to survive such brutality and still remain so beautifully pure and hopeful? The thought of it filled me with awe for this wise little soul. He leapt from the trailer and ran into his quarantine pen without hesitation, needing no guidance to find the right pen. After drinking several gallons of water, he munched happily on a big, fresh salad and some sweet hay before greeting us, one by one, with a sniff and a smile. As I write, he is sleeping contentedly under a big pile of hay, snoring peacefully. The Smile Posted on January 8, 2017 Once a little pig lived in a dark, sad barn. He was old and blind and had lived his entire life in darkness. This darkness was much deeper than that caused by lack of light in the barn, and much darker even than a blind old pig might normally experience. His mother loved him as much as she could, but she herself was caught in the same helplessness and despair. The barn was filled with old cow poop, broken glass, and other dirty, scary things. Selick, his mother, and the many, many other pigs there had not a single clean, comfortable, safe spot to sleep. Sometimes the human brought food, but often she did not. Sometimes, the food was really smelly and bad, like animals that had been hit by cars and left on the side of the road for a few days. She had, once or twice, let the pigs outside. Many of them made a break for it. Selick's darkness was so deep that he did not wonder where they went. It was so dark that he did not event try to run. When the woman did bring food, sometimes it was enough, and often it was not. She did the same thing with water. Selick's mother taught him he had to be tough and mean to survive. She taught him to fight for his food, and it's a good thing she did, because not all of the pigs survived that dark, sad place. But Selick, he survived. One day, a humane police officer came in, bringing light and fresh air with her. She had other humans and trailers, and the pigs were all happy to leave that barn behind. All the pigs but Selick, that is. Selick's darkness was just too deep. He had no hope that wherever he was going would be any better, and he certainly had no hope that humans might help him. Selick and just a few of the other pigs were brought to a place called Indraloka. Three of them were given
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a big pasture with different little houses, and were told they could go in and out whenever they wanted. Selick took the best house for himself and was ready to fight over it. He was disappointed when Raymond and Waldo ignored him and went into the other house. The humans kept trying to lure him into complacency, but he knew better. He would never trust them. The others were suckers. They were won over by fruit and belly rubs, but Selick was going to do exactly as his mother taught him, so long ago. He avoided humans at all costs. If they insisted on touching him, he screamed and fought until they gave up. Raymond and Waldo were annoying. Selick knew that this situation with plenty of food couldn't last forever, so he decided to make sure he'd survive again when things went bad. He began picking fights with them daily. He needed to prove to them he was in charge, so when he needed to fight for food, it would be easier to win. Years went by. Selick was sick of those stupid pigs. In fact, he never wanted to see another pig again. His darkness was still deep and thick. He decided he was not going to spend one more night in the same pasture as those stupid, annoying pigs. So, late one night, he found his way out. After wandering around for a while, he found Tom, Jake and Henny's barn door. They were some very mellow old turkeys whose company he did not completely hate. He knocked and grunted, and the turkeys kindly invited him in. They had a huge bowl of seed and grain right there in their house, and no one was even eating it! Selick gobbled it down and thought, "This is too easy! I didn't even have to fight for this!" The turkeys just cooed softly and went to sleep. Selick, his belly full, and very relieved to have escaped the pigs, lay down and slept the whole night through. The turkeys were so easy to hang out with, and they had all this food and a pig - free home. They were nice to him, Selick realized. The edges of the darkness he had held onto for so long began to lift, and a tiny sliver of light came in. Selick knew he wanted to stay with these birds. The next day those awful, fakey - fake humans came and put him right back in the pig pasture. Selick knew they couldn't be trusted, and this proved it. They were not going to tell him where to live, though. So, that night, he broke out again and went straight to the turkey's house. Every day for about a week, the humans put him back in the pig pasture, and he broke back out to go to the turkeys. The turkeys took to flying right into the pig pasture while Selick was stuck there during the day. He couldn't believe it, they liked him, too! Finally one day, the short human exclaimed, "You love these turkeys, Selick, don't you? Would you rather live with them?" "These humans have got to be the slowest creatures who ever walked the earth," Selick grumbled to himself. "Yeah, ok, lady, you sure do understand animals," Selick said patronizingly, and the short human told him he could stay with them from then on. A few more slivers of light came through. Years went by, and Selick's heart attacked him. It hurt and he was scared and he thought he was going to die. He was shocked to realize he wasn't ready. He actually wanted to live. The short human started spending all her time with him, covering him with blankets, giving him medicine he hated and encouraging him to eat when he didn't feel like it. Tom, Jake, and Henny stayed, too. Selick slept heavily, and a lot. One day, he dreamed that someone he didn't hate was rubbing his belly. He woke groggily and slowly to discover it was true, someone was rubbing his belly. It felt so good, he went back to sleep. But this time, the old, blind pig slept in the light. His darkness had faded. He understood that the humans and the turkeys had saved his life. He could not come up with any reason for them to do that except that they cared. Maybe all humans weren't entirely fakey - fake after all. Maybe some were ok. More years passed, and the more Selick trusted, the more humans he attracted. This worked out very well, as he found he could persuade any human to rub his belly and give him treats very easily. "You just have to understand them," he mused, "and then they are easy to communicate with." As more humans sought him out, Selick started realizing the humans had feelings very similar to a pig's. Lots of them are afraid to trust other humans, and fight with them just the way Selick did with pigs. Lots of humans lived in darkness because of a painful past that was long over, refusing to let the light of a new day in because they thought it would hurt more when the darkness came
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back. And just like he used to be, lots of humans were certain that the darkness would always be back. Selick was so much older and wiser now. That heart attack really helped him, because it showed him how much he did like life. He started living fully - exploring sanctuary grounds, making friends with lots of birds, goats, and other animals, although he still did not like pigs. He began to count certain humans as his friends, too. You see, Selick had hope now. He had so much hope that it lit up his insides as bright as the sun. And when he smiled, that light of hope shone right out onto whoever was near, and stripped away their darkness for just a moment, so they'd feel warm and light, with hope restored. In just a few days since Selick crossed over, we have been blessed with messages and stories from people far and near who loved him, learned from him, and called him friend. If you have a similar story, please share it below in the comments. We would be grateful to share your memories. Yesterday not knowing this, for the first time I introduced Selick as the star of the day in my afternoon classes. They cheered and clapped for him, waving and calling his name, and then when they learned he was blind - the kids used the words "brave, smart, inspiring, and special" to describe him while watching his photos and video clips. I had no idea they were actually giving him the kind of celebratory send off he deserved … This makes my heart sad and warm at the same time. Selick was a super cool being, he knew how to enjoy life unlike anyone else I have ever known. I'll miss him. - Sarah Selick had such a profound and fervent affect on me. From the moment I met him, his meandering determination and subdued vitality seemed as consequential and inspirational as any being I've ever come across. Meeting him and spending what relatively little time I did with him, was so utterly fulfilling. Selick, without fail, provided me with a fresh and dynamic perspective every time we occupied the same space. I loved him deeply, and I am so sorry about having lost him, but also incredibly gratified by having known him. Thank you for providing sanctuary to him, and all the souls. You and Johnny have my unending gratitude for saving him and thru him, to some very quantifiable degree, saving me as well. Another example of the good we do, rippling outward to eventually include the entire pond. Bless precious Selick. I recall fondly seeing him mill about the place at the ThanksLiving event. Eating the turkey's food, coming into the barn and walking among the tables in the barn. A happy boy - all because of the good souls at Indraloka Animal Sanctuary, who gave him sanctuary and loved him. Loved him. Loved him. Loved him. - Bren My daughters still talk about Selick when they visited last June. He is my first memory at Indraloka as he greeted us wagging his tail when we arrived on the farm. What a beautiful spirit. - Tala Jake came to me with a flock of poults (baby turkeys) that were destined to be killed for Thanksgiving in 2003. I remember being spellbound by the little birds, who grew so fast that every hour they looked different. I had never known a turkey personally, and never even imagined the complex, fascinating, sensitive, curious beings I discovered them to be. Jake never liked humans. I always took it as a great compliment that he felt free enough to eschew human company, including my own. He knew we respected him enough to understand he was his own being, free to make his own choices. We never tried to meld him into who we wanted him to be. Jake was one of a kind. He could be a bit of a hothead at times, quick to defend when he perceived the slightest threat to his dominion. He protected his flock valiantly. Jake cherished his freedom, and enjoyed each day to its fullest. Even on the day before he died, Jake dozed in the sunshine, sought tasty delicacies in the grass, and hung out with his pig and turkey buddies. Jake's best friends were Tom (another Turkey), and Selick, a blind, elderly pig. Years ago, when Selick first came to us, we tried to have him live with other pigs, but each night, Selick broke out of the pig enclosure and into Jake and Tom's pen. So, Jake and Tom got a new roommate. Jake was one of very few free turkeys on this earth. He was much beloved and tenderly cared for every day of his life. Among the oldest turkeys alive, it is nothing short of a miracle that he died a beautiful, peaceful death in the company of family and friends on Thanksgiving Day. Today, I give thanks for the blessing of having had Jake in my life. I pray that all turkeys will someday be free to live as the sacred beings that they are. I pray that every human will someday know the joy of nurturing, encouraging, and protecting life in all of its varied and beautiful forms. Today is your day of glory, my precious
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Jake. My heart soars with your spirit. You lived free and died free. I am deeply, deeply grateful to you for walking with me for this brief time. They lay helplessly before us, innocent babies. It was clear that they had suffered greatly in their short lives. Covered in open wounds and excrement, malnourished, with misery in their eyes, they were too weak to stand. The tiniest of the three cried in pain. Instinctively, I scooped her up and cradled her close to my heart. Her panicked heartbeat slowed to match my own. I tried to convey, with my eyes, that she was safe now - that she was loved. She turned her head to mine, her gentle brown eyes filled with wonderment. This might have been the first loving touch she experienced in her life. Harika, we named her - Sanskrit for "beloved of Indra". Gently, I touched the huge wound on this tiny girl's neck. She cocked her head to the left ever so slightly, seeming to be aware that I was sorry for her pain. I moved my hands slowly over her body, assessing the damage. At each wound or bruise I stopped and said a silent prayer. Her eyes held mine and she nodded her head minutely each time. I felt gently along the splayed legs that would not hold her. I touched her yellowed skin, most likely jaundiced due to blood loss. I felt her keel bone through her skinny little frame. But this one, this one made it out. How or why, I don't know. Fairly often, we get these rescues, lucky ones who somehow escape and wind up where good, caring people find them and bring them to us. I imagined she fell off of a truck - it would explain her splayed legs - but who knows? Maybe she was dropped as she was being packed into a crate for transport. Maybe she was asleep and, looking as she does, was mistaken for dead and thrown in the trash. It didn't matter. All that mattered in that moment were those eyes looking into mine with what I can only describe as trust, and that little heartbeat against mine. I can never explain this feeling in words - this moment when everything disappears and all that is left is me and a little life depending on me. I began to spin dreams for her, speaking to her of a long life ahead. Days of lolling in the sunshine and playing with other turkeys. Years of healthy meals and a clean, warm place to sleep. Of humans who would hold her in their laps and pet her as we do a beloved cat, listening to her soft purrs and smiling at her joy. Together, we dreamed of the beautiful life before her. Her eyes never left mine. I believed she was spellbound, and as hopeful as I. Only a day or two in, we noticed that her leg was getting worse instead of better. She seemed to be in more pain when we tried to give her physical therapy, or even place her in a sling. The pain medication may have helped a bit, but it was clear that she was far from pain - free. Her brother, Habibah (Swahili for beloved), was also faring poorly. We decided to consult with the avian experts at an esteemed veterinary hospital. The third baby, Hadaaya (beloved in Arabic), seemed to be doing better, happily, so we decided to leave her at home at the sanctuary. Their appointment was on Wednesday, the sixth day we had them. So, on Tuesday, despite the strict quarantine under which we place all new residents, we took the three babies outside, in an area far from any other birds. One by one, I felt them relax in my arms as they felt sunlight on their backs, most likely for the first time. I set them on the grass and smiled, listening to their delighted coos and purrs. The color on their heads and necks turned red and blue - a visible way for them to express their joy (sort of like a human smiling). With me was a woman with a huge heart. She was new to farm animal rescue, and she was appalled. "Who would do this to them?" she kept asking. Everyone, I explained, just about everyone - everyone who ever eats turkey, everyone who knows what they go through and does not demand that it stop, everyone who says, "I can't think about that," and turns away from suffering. I told her about how most animals used by the food industry are routinely raised. She was shocked, and kept repeating, "People need to know. If they knew, they'd make it illegal. They wouldn't support it." So here I am, telling all who will listen. This is happening, and no one will stop it if we don't. Please, please, please, for the babies' sake, please help us stop this. This is wrong. No one should suffer like this. It was such a miracle that these three got out alive, somehow, and were in the sunshine with people who loved them, their whole lives stretched out before them. They were happy. They were free
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. They were beloved and they felt it. At the hospital, we learned that Harika and Habibah were too far gone. Their pain would only grow, and there was no hope of fixing their legs. Given that theses types of turkeys grow to be very large, we knew their problems would only become worse. I have often thought that the heart of sanctuary work is to be selfless enough to give them a good death. So, although it pained us greatly, we made the choice that was best for them. Hadaaya, the third baby bird, is continuing her recovery at the sanctuary, with lots of TLC. In the absence of her siblings, she has lots of toys and human attention. Just as soon as her quarantine is complete, she will join another flock of baby birds we rescued recently. Her days will be filled with all of the freedoms and pleasures Harika and I dreamed of together, and Harika and Habibah's spirits will live on through her, and in our hearts. Falling in Love Weather Posted on September 6, 2016 Updated on September 6, 2016 It was the perfect weather to fall in love. Sun shone from a deep blue sky, while the wind played gently with my hair. Sunflowers reached towards the light, wildflowers bloomed in the meadows, and there she was, standing before me. Her chocolate eyes were soft and playful. Her red coat gleamed in the sun. Muscles rippled as she walked. Gently, the giant warmblood reached down to place her nose against my heart, resting there for several breaths. I met Catera on early on the morning of September 11, 2001. By the time the planes had crashed into the buildings, I was already in love - and horrified to hear the news on the barn radio. How could anything so vicious happen on such a beautiful day? People told me, repeatedly, that I was too inexperienced to adopt a "green" horse. At the time, I had not yet given up riding horses. I hired trainer after trainer, and gave all that I had to learn to ride this giant of a being, but instead I broke many bones. The first time, she broke into a gallop in an open field. I lost my seat, catapulted over her head, and landed on my head in front of her. She tried so hard to avoid stepping on me that she injured herself. I broke my occipital bone, cracked a rib, broke my shoulder, and tore my rotator cuff. Another fall from her back fractured my neck. There was not a single person in my life that did not advocate for me to either euthanize Catera or to return her to the rescue she had come from. But I couldn't do it. I had given her "Indra's Lifetime Guarantee". From the time I was a child, this is what I called it when I committed to an animal. My lifetime guarantee was that I would never give up on them, that I would love them no matter what, and that I would lay down my life in defense of theirs. She had my word. If I lost every person in my life, or every bone in my body, so be it. I did not do this to be a martyr. I did it because I believed that we can only be redeemed - I can only be redeemed - through a pure, selfless love. Catera was giving me the opportunity to redeem myself. On the other hand, she loved taking me for a ride in the woods - and by that I mean she made the choices about when and where we would go. We used to disappear together for hours. When I relaxed and gave up control about where we would go, and at what speed, she began to trust and take care of me. Once, she stepped on a ground wasp nest, and we both were stung multiple times. Even then, she did not bolt or rear or throw me. She calmly walked away from the bees. We had twin swollen faces for weeks. Another time, when crossing a creek, we wound up in a tar pit. Instead of moving forward with each stroke of her powerful legs, we were sinking downwards. I swam around to her face and asked her not to move, and to wait until I could get help. She stayed still, patiently waiting, and then allowed herself to be tied with ropes and pulled out. She used to love to open gates and barn doors. One of her favorite activities was to roll in the mud and then let herself into the barn where she would roll in pine shavings. I would find her in the barn covered in pine shavings with a goofy grin on her face. Early one morning just a few weeks ago, I saw that something was not right with Catera. Her heart was racing, she appeared weak and in tremendous pain. I called the vet and began to run a wash cloth soaked in cold water along her body, trying to soothe her and bring her temperature down. It was nearly 100 degrees that day, and her body temperature continued to rise dangerously, along with her heart rate. I stood her, soaking wet, in front of a powerful fan and tried to keep her calm while we waited for the
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vet. After a thorough exam, he diagnosed an impaction of the large intestine. He gave her medication for the pain, and threaded a tube through her nose, pumping mineral oil and water through her GI tract, in the hopes that it would help resolve the impaction. And then the waiting began. Either the impaction would resolve and she would get better, or she would need surgery to keep her alive. Until a few years ago, Catera experienced similar impactions at least once annually, and it always resolved on its own. So, the vet and I thought her chances were decent. As soon as they got in their cars, I was back in the barn to check on my girl. What I saw will never leave my mind. My beautiful, strong, kind girl was belly up, with her feet too close to the wall to be able to move, breathing rapidly. The whites of her eyes revealed the extent of her fear. She was a big girl, well over 1500 pounds. Her powerful back legs were too heavy for me to roll, even using all of my body weight. However, I did not want to place anyone else in the corner of a stall rolling a big, potentially flailing horse. Finally, we decided to have someone else stand behind me. Between an intern at her front end, the two of us at the rear, and two more caregivers pushing from the other side, we were able to roll her over. As she attempted to get her feet back under her, our intern and I jumped out of the way as planned. However, the young man who was standing behind me was not quick enough. One of her back feet grazed his chest and slammed into his chin. His t - shirt ripped, he stood panting beside the panting horse. I wasn't sure who to take care of first. "Are you ok? Can you breathe? Do you need an ambulance?" Miraculously, he was ok, but we did arrange for him to rest for the remainder of the day and ice his injuries. Catera, on the other hand, was no better. We took her into the paddock, thinking in the larger space she would be safer. Every 20 minutes, we hosed her down. She refused all offers of water, and food was out of the question. All but one team member had left. I couldn't imagine how the two of us alone would have the strength to roll her again, but we had to try. I tied the ropes around her legs, and miraculously, our strongest volunteer (who was not scheduled to be here) appeared. A power lifter with a deep love for all of the animals, she was easily able to roll Catera's back end, while I rolled her front end. We called the vet again, and this time his examination revealed that her large intestine was displaced, a life threatening situation. The vet called the hospital to provide background to the doctors and our heroic volunteer kindly agreed to come along with me. Catera was terrified, but once again, chose to trust me. She followed me into the trailer and we were off on the three - hour drive to save her life. Forty - five minutes away from the hospital, Catera could be heard trembling and flailing in the trailer. We pulled over and found her shaking uncontrollably. A call to the vet confirmed the dire nature of her condition. We were instructed to give her more pain medication and get to the hospital as fast as we could. The valiant trailer driver drove the trailer safely and confidently, in a lightning storm, in the dark, on winding roads, faster than I dared drive in my little, easy to manage vehicle. On arrival, a team of earnest and caring veterinary professionals was ready for her. She fell as she made her way off of the trailer. By then, she was clearly incoherent, and barely able to stand at all. They worked valiantly to keep her on her feet long enough to start her on IV fluids. Her huge body crashed to the ground as she began to seize right there in the hospital's entrance hallway. The kind vet asked for permission to euthanize her. If we did not, she would die painfully. I agreed. I lay in the back of the car, singing as we sped towards the vet hospital. Tears washed down my face, baptizing an old, wrinkled pig with love. He groaned and writhed in my arms. Nunzi was having a stroke. Years ago, when Nunzi first arrived at Indraloka, he screamed whenever a human was near. We discovered that singing eased his fear, so I made up a million silly songs to sing to him daily. Nunzi has not been frightened of people in years, and the songs had faded from our days. Yet now, here, as he lay struggling for life beside me, singing seemed the only way to comfort either of us. He and Magdelena were very close to a horse named Sabine, whose chronic foot problems made walking painful. However, we had to keep her walking in order to keep the blood flow in her feet so that she could heal. So, I used to place her hay on the far side of her paddock. On
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Sabine's bad days, Magdie and Nunzi would carry the hay in their mouths back to Sabine's bedside. They would lay with her and comfort her for hours on end. The memories continued to flow from his eyes, as if a projector were hidden behind his pupils. Nunzi went through a period of a few years when he bit everyone in sight. Volunteers were afraid to feed him. He bit me, too, but that only made me love him more. This was just another way of expressing fear. I knew it would pass. And pass it did. For the last several years, Nunzi approached humans excitedly, with a twinkle in his eyes. To keep up his reputation as a grumpy old man, he complained vociferously whenever he was touched, but his smiling eyes and wagging tail gave him away. And this past spring, when he and Magdie had a terrible fight. For months they refused to talk to each other, or even look at one another. Happily, they worked through their problems and reconciled, more cuddly and friendly than ever through the long summer days. A Goat Called Blessing Posted on August 24, 2015 Updated on August 25, 2015 My name is Madalitso. You can call me Maddie. It means "blessing", and the people here tell me that is what I am to them: a blessing. I do feel your love and your prayers. They are like a blanket of light surrounding me, comforting me, holding me up. They make me determined to get strong and healthy. I want to enjoy this new life laid out before me, this blessing granted to an old goat. You'd be amazed how much easier pain is to endure when you are beloved. I still have a lot of healing to do, but I'm okay with that. This pain is nothing compared to what my babies went through when the farmer sent them "away". They say I'm a free goat. They let me go wherever I want, around the whole sanctuary. At first I was nervous, but I saw that several of the animals here do the same. So, today I am exploring a bit. I still have to move slowly, but there are so many tasty grasses and plants to try, it helps keep my mind off of the pain. Charlie the rooster has trouble getting around, too. We hobble along and explore together. He gets hot and tired fast, so we spend a lot of time resting in the hay by the fan. Listen, though, please. I have something important to say. I made it out. I have a name. I am getting the love and care I so desperately needed for years. But other goats aren't that lucky. Other goats, other animals of many species, continue to suffer. Many, many more mothers and babies are being torn from one another right now. Most animals live in pain and fear every second of their lives. Most never once experience a kind word or even a moment of comfort. They suffer all day, everyday, until they are brutally killed. Don't forget them. Please don't forget them. Please find a way to help them, just as I have been helped. You can start with the choices you make - what you eat and what you wear. You are more powerful than you think. Maddie's road to recovery will be long, involving a great deal of expensive veterinary care. Please share her story and please donate towards her care. Every dollar is matched, and every bit makes a difference. This slideshow requires JavaScript. Post was not sent - check your email addresses! Email check failed, please try again Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email.% d bloggers like this:
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PRICELESS Baby steps are turning into giant leaps! Great minds think alike (and dress alike, apparently) Hello all! I thought it was time for a fresh voice to inform all of you about Willie's progress (and a few other things to spice it up a bit), so I have locked Aunt Terri in the closet while I take over. (Coach - I expect my payment in full if you want me to keep her in there). I have some big shoes to fill, however, since she does such an amazing job of keeping us "in the know". I told her yesterday that the reason I was always so impressed was because she writes in such an organized and clear manner and that is soooo NOT the manner in which she thinks or talks. The focus she must endure to say the actual names of the nurses on the first try instead of writing "Summer, er Deb, no - Caroline, Jack, I mean …… whatever her name is". I don't think she knows how much we appreciate her willingness to skip the usual role call and just spit it out already. My visit has been more than I could have hoped for. Willie's progress in just the few days I have been here is astounding and from the sounds of the cheers (literally) coming from everyone on the unit, he has been consistently and quickly (relatively speaking) blowing them away. Forget the medical side of it - he is getting compliments left and right about how great he looks, and who are we kidding - that is really what matters, right? It must be the enormous amount of weight (fluid) he has lost since he started dialysis. He is shrinking before our very eyes and I just know the day his chicken legs return is right around the corner. Aunt Terri and I have asked for dialysis too, but the stingy medical people didn't think it was the answer to our weight issues. What do they know? They also said no when I asked for some pain meds when Will gave me the thumbs up (behind the nurse's back) while getting his. I really don't think he should be able to brag about the awesomeness of his happy pills knowing full well I wont be able to experience it wiPosted by This was sent to me from a CF friend. If you live around Salt Lake City, please come out to this fund - raiser. It sounds like it would be a blast. I hope we can make it over there also. Hey Everyone! Come down to Famous Dave's in West Jordan to support The Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Channel 2 will be holding their survivor casting auditions and ribs are only a dollar from noon to 4 p. m. All proceeds go to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation so come down get some grub and watch the wacky auditions. Also, watch channel 2 from 6 to 8 a. m. where Matt Meese will be the spokesperson for CF! Date: July 3rd 2008 (Next Thursday) Time: Noon to 4 p. m. Location: 7273 S. Plaza CenterThe last day of June already. Wow that went very fast. Angel and Aaron left this afternoon but we had such a good visit and it was one of the few times that they saw a huge improvement with Will. So it was a good time. We have had such a good response from the pictures that we put up. Thank you for all the positive feedback, I let Will know how many people were impressed and happy with the way he looked. I am going to try to keep taking them so you will be seeing him improve as we do. Today he will do another t - trial or two. Then he will have dialysis and they plan to get another 4 liters off. His xray does show a little improvement but still quite a bit of fluid around his lungs so hopefully that is where the dialysis will start pulling the fluids off from. He got up and walked again in the hall. Will's cousin, Christi, is up here for a few days. She's a teacher so she just got out of school and then she got a summer job but she told them she needed a few days before she started so she can come up and see her cousin. I wish her two sons could have come up also but they won't let kids into the ICU. They did a lot of crossword puzzles today while I went home to sleep. I think they cheated but they won't admit it. When Will and I try to do some, we get about four or five answers and that's all. The days are getting better and we know what a blessing it isPosted by Over 50, 000 hits of this blog. WOW! Nobody took credit for hitting the 50, 000 hit so there is no winner. Sorry. These next few pictures are of our walk outside this morning. The whole family got to go and it was beautiful. Flowers and green trees everywhere on the hospital grounds. The breeze was blowing so Will didn't get too hot. We still had to stay in the shade even though we were out before 10: 00 am. We stayed out for about 40 minutes. Wonderful way to start our day. I hope we can do this
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again and again. Don't forget to double click on the pictures and it will enlarge for you. This is another picture of the two that I am trying to play matchmaker for. They make such a cute couple and they need to name their first child after me. Just kidding. I will keep you informed of the saga of Antonio and Shaleena. Will doesn't think I should be doing this but hey, it's great fun. These next pictures are more of our room decorations for the Fourth of July. We are very patriotic. Will had a good day with the walk and we will even have a better one tomorrow. Sunday we will put more time in on the t - trials, and of course, walking. He is gaining his strength quickly. On a very serious note, our good friend, Richard White, will be traveling today to Houston to get seen at the big cancer center there because they found a spot on his lung. Remember Richard has already found a tumor in his kidney and had to remove the kidney a few years ago. So this is serious and we really need all the prayers for healing to go his way. I know God is in control. Richard is such a great friend, and we really need for those doctors to find a way to rid Richard of this cancer. Lots of love, Richard and we hope you and Kim will be home soon. Take care. We will keep the faith. God bless all our friends and family. We love you all and appreciate all your concern. Here's a picture I promised you. Isn't he looking so much better. They did dialysis today and he has lost around 40 pounds of fluid (if I figured correctly). This was when Brent was here visiting and Will was smiling at something Brent said. Look at those legs, they are no longer tree trunks, you can actually see his bones now. And the good part is, he isn't finished loosing either. This picture is of Sumer and Will after we decorated the room. Sumer lost the flip and had to wear the Uncle Sam hat. Will just had to wear the beads and hold up the flashing flag pin. This place is just way too much fun. Just kidding, but we do have some fun times. Will had a good day because he got up and walked out in the hall and then sat in a chair for 45 minutes. He rested and did a 3 hour and 15 min. t - trial. The longest yet since he got his pneumonia. The Drs. took him off his antibiotics today. So he made it through this "bump." Have we turned the corner???? I don't know. I think we have turned many corners. No, I really believe it's only uphill from now on. He's just doing so good. Everybody has been so excited when they see him. I am going to have some more pictures up today so you all can enjoy them. Then on top of that he had a good visit with Coach and they listened to the Met / Yankees game. About 5: 00 Will got a visit from his good friend from high school, John Thompson and his family. It was so good for Will to get this company. Angel has been here and now Aaron will be here this morning. We all want to take Will out for a walk this morning before it gets too hot. This will be his second outing since we have been here. He won't have any dialysis on the weekend so he will have some good goals and I'm sure he will meet all of them. It's going to be a good weekend, his cousin, Christi is coming up also. Maybe I can get her to do the blog for a few days because she's the English teacher. I need to take care of a few side notes for Will. Here they are. Happy Birthday, Brenda. We all love you. Come see us soon. Miss Gregg, we hopPosted by It's Tom's birthday today. Will wants me to make sure I put this on his blog for his dad. So we are going to have a party up here on the unit and the nurses are really excited for some cake and ice cream. They told me that they probably won't be able to wear those silly little party hats but I told them I would get them all those little noise makers that you blow into and they make a noise and unroll. Then they can use them on their grouchy patients and it will put a smile on their faces. Ya think??? Sumer and Will were helping me decorate Will's room tonight. I got some cute pictures and tomorrow I will put them on the blog. Yup, I got my computer fixed. I guess my hard drive was fried. I don't know how I did that, it could have been from so much blogging:) Will had a good day today. He didn't have dialysis and he really had a good nights sleep so he was ready to roll. Tomorrow will probably be a little different because dialysis really wears him out. But then he has Saturday and Sunday with no dialysis and maybe we can really get some good walking and
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t - trials out of him. Angel and Will had a real good day of "messing with mom." That's a game they like to play. I don't think it's that funny but hey, they get a good kick out of it. I will be glad when my son - in - law gets up here because Aaron doesn't let them pick on me. No seriously it is so nice to watch Will with his sense of humor coming back. I will even take all the teasing they do. Will is staying awake for longer periods now, except after dialysis. Everyday Will is just getting stronger and stronger. It won't be long and we will be coming home. If you want to send Tom a birthday greeting on the blog, it's okay (even though this is supposed to be Will's blog). I will make sure he reads them. Within the next couple of days this blog should hit 50, 000 hits. That is so awesome, but I would like the person that gets that hit to please blog or email me the time. I will put it on the blog. harbisonterri @ hotmail. com There's really no prize but it will be fun to see Posted by It just keeps getting better and better. Will's attitude has been so improved lately. He needed some positive steps forward and now that he's got them, he's running (figuratively not literally). I can't wait to put pictures up as soon as my computer gets fixed. It could be today. It would be hard to believe the change. He's smiling and everything. Brent and Stacee came up today and they just saw him last week. They just couldn't quit talking about the change in Will in just six days. Well, I figure he probably is over 30 pounds lighter and that could help anyone feel better. They took off another 4 liters (about 9 pounds) with dialysis and he is more exhausted today than he has been. The drs. said they might have to slow it down so his heart doesn't get dehydrated. Today is his day off so he will be feeling great when he wakes up this morning. Hopefully he will do a lot with that new - found energy. He still has to walk and do t - trials. Coach will be coming up on Friday (Tom's birthday) and Tom will be come that afternoon with Aaron. Aaron hasn't been able to come up in a long time so it will be so good to see him. Then on Saturday Christi, his cousin, will be coming up for a few days. I can't wait for all the company to see how well he is doing. It does all of us good. God bless It was moving day again at the ol 'Harbison Hilton Hospital room. We never could get the air conditioner to work and it was getting so hot so they moved us again. This turned out to be a good thing because we got a bigger room. It's amazing how much a few square feet can seem to be. Karen, who is the person in charge of the ICU tried, tried and tried some more to get the a / c to work and we really appreciate all she did. But this new room is great. While I was home sleeping this afternoon, Angel decorated Will's room with the Fourth of July decorations I had bought and she had to move Will too. So Angel was very busy and I had a real nice surprise when I came back up. Will had a great day and maybe it was because his little sister came up to see him. She makes him smile with her goofy things she does. He still had to work hard today. The drs. decided not to do a bronch. We are really glad for several reasons, one being that when they do a bronch we seem to loose a day of forward moving and Will is on such a good roll. The second is that it hurts, plain and simple. They still might decide to do one but right now they don't think he needs one. Yea!!! Will did two t - trials today, 15 minutes more than yesterday. Today Will walked clear to the door. That's four feet and back again. I know we have been there before but this time it seems different - - - more - - - oh, I don't know how to describe it, it just seems that this will be the last time we will have to start over again. I hope that makes sense. He told a good friend of his, Brent, that he will be out of this hospital by the end of July. That's a good goal. Today he will do some more dialysis and they hope to pull more fluid off. Then he will still do his t - trials and walk again. With our bigger room he is going to have to walk farther to get to the door, it's probably about six or seven feet. But, he can do it. It's in God's hands. Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD. Psalm 27: 14God bless I think that in the Webster's Dictionary next to the word tough should be
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a picture of my son. He amazes me how one body can take so much and keep wanting to go through it because it's all going to be worth it. Most every night before I go to sleep I watch him breathing and I ask God how was it that I was picked to be his mother. I thank God that He has allowed me to be a part of this journey and I know that Tom feels the same way. Will had another dialysis today and they took off four liters. That's almost 10 pounds of fluid. I will take a picture and put it on the blog because you won't believe what a difference it has made. All in all they have taken off about 26 pounds of fluid. Of course he's going to start moving and feeling better without all that extra baggage on him. I asked if I could borrow the machine but they really thought I was kidding. Dialysis really, really wears him out. Will didn't have to have a bronch until today. They are going to go to every other day for the dialysis so today will be better to get the bronch done. He did walk several steps today. The first he's taken since he got this dumb pneumonia. The second time he stood next to his bed, he walked in place about 30 steps. He did two t - trials during the day too. See what I mean about being tough? He's exhausted and look what he accomplished during the day. Angel is coming up today. Tom has to go home for a couple of days because his friend that he worked with for many year, Elias Cortabatarte, passed away. The funeral will be on Wednesday. So Angel will take Tom's shift at the hospital. Then Aaron will ride up with Tom on Friday. So things are really looking so much better. Thanks for the love and caring, and of course, the prayers. God bless I don't know if I told everyone but my computers broken. I think I used it too much. Anyway it's in the shop getting fixed so I am using Will's the last few days. I haven't been able to upload any pictures lately but I hope I have mine back soon. Will had to get another pic line put into his arm but before they do that they had to run another Doppler. That's where they check for blood clots because of his history of clots. They didn't find any new ones (the one in his neck is still there) so they were able to put another line in. The other one they have been using finally quit on us. Everything went well with that. But he was supposed to have a day off from stuff and instead it got kind of busy. Will did start the day sitting in the chair for a couple of hours. Then he stood a couple of times and did a couple of t - trials. He still has a lot of trouble breathing because of the pneumonia so he's only been able to do about 1 1 / 2 hours each time. Still that's so good compared to a week ago. He is going to start back on the dialysis today for the next three days and then they will reevaluate things. He is supposed to have a bronch also sometime today. They want to see how things are going with the pneumonia. So another busy day scheduled for Will. I see such a good improvement with him. Will's able to move so much easier and he just looks better. Angel should be coming up this week to help us out so that will be so good for Will (and us too). She will stay until Aaron comes down on Friday and then we will celebrate Tom's birthday. He turns 40 on Friday:) We are going to decorate his room for Fourth of July. I will post pictures. God bless Sunday morning, there's something special about this day of the week. Will had a pretty good day. He started the day at 7: 20 am with the dialysis people coming in and wanting to start his three hour dialysis. He wasn't very happy to have to wake up that early, but it was done. Then he rested because dialysis really wears you out. He did do two t - trials and he stood for a couple of minutes. Now that there is no more basketball to watch, there's not much to see on TV. Will has a day off today from dialysis so hopefully we can get a few more standing exercises. He is looking good. They took off another 3 liters for a total of 8 liters. That equals to 17 pounds of fluid now off his body. He probably has another 40 pounds to go. They will do another xray and blood workup to see how his kidneys are recuperating. I will let you know. Thanks for the love, things are looking a little better. God bless Four months, sixteen weeks, or 112 days, however we say it, it's still the same. That's how long Will have been in this hospital. Who would have every thought it would be like this. Will is still staying strong and says it's all going to be worth it. He had about the same day as yesterday. He got his second
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dialysis treatment today for 2 1 / 2 hours. They took off another 3 liters. He is really tired afterwards and just wants to sleep. But that is very common. His BUN (test to see how the kidneys are functioning) is coming down already. Way to go dialysis. He has another tomorrow and then gets a day off. He stood and impressed us how much more strength he has today than yesterday. He made it to two minutes. Tomorrow we are going for five. He did do a t - trial again today for one hour, a little better than yesterday. Remember the t - trial is where they take him off the vent (unplug him) and put a oxygen mask over his throat to deliver more oxygen and have him breathe on his own. With the pneumonia it is hard to expand the lungs. That's why it is so important to get him vertical as much as possible so gravity and can help open the lower lobes of the lungs. The xrays don't show too much of a change yet but maybe today. This is where I want to thank a few people but first in James 1: 17 the Bible asks us to remember God is the provider of everything we need and we need to see every gift as coming from Him. So I want to thank God for giving us our friends and family to help us through this journey. I know I have said this before, but I can't tell you all how vital you all are in helping Will through this journey. HEAVENLY FATHER THANK YOU FOR BLESSING US SO RICHLY. Marylou Culley, a long, long time friend sent me a surprise box today with all our blogs and comments put in a binder so we can revisit them any time we want. What a wonderful, thoughtful gift. You put a lot of time into that and it means a lot. God bless you. I want to thank the people that responded to my plea for emails about dialysis. I have been learning a lot Posted by Another busy day in the Will Harbison saga. He woke up and had his breathing treatment then they told him they were going to go downstairs to get the tunnel catheter put into place. They put it in about where he had his old port - a - cath in his chest. We were told that he would be about 1 - 2 hours. He was down there about three hours but they had a little trouble getting his bleeding stopped. Caroline was down with him and when she didn't come back up it made us a little nervous. Tom was pacing the hallway - he said he wasn't nervous, he just needed to exercise.:) When he got back up he was pretty sleepy. Then in about one hour they came in and said they were going to start his dialysis in a few minutes. They set the big machine up and got started. It was very, very interesting how that machine can take the place of your kidneys. The blood comes out of the body then goes through this machine and goes back all cleaned up. AMAZING! They start slow - only two hours today - and go up from there. He'll do this for three days, then take a day off, and go for three more days and then they will move him to every other day. They can take fluid off faster this way also. They took two liters off today. Now only 12 more to go. That's not the only reason they do this though. It's to take the toxins out of your blood stream. It should make him feel so much better. He also got two units of blood. The transfusion was needed and that might make him more energetic too. So a lot accomplished. Then our friends came up, Brent Clark and Kim White. Kim jumped in with Brent when she found out he was coming up. Brent stayed with Will and visited while we went to dinner. It was nice and Brent and Will had a very good visit. Sumer and Brent talked Will into standing for a couple of minutes. Sometimes after dialysis people don't have too much energy for a while. But Will did visit and stand so he must be doing okay in that area. Kim stayed the night with me in Will's room and will get a ride home with Coach and Donna because they are coming up todayPosted by Here's how Will enjoyed the game! Thought everyone would appreciate the pictures of Will's buddy and nurse, Sumer. Everyone has come by and congratulated Will on the win. How funny is that?? It's like Will called Doc Rivers, the Celtics coach, with the winning play or something. (Well, I'm sure he could have). He was a little more tired today. Maybe it was all the excitement from the game, who knows? The drs. have decided that Will needs to start on dialysis tomorrow. His kidneys aren't working too well. They will take him downstairs and put in a tunnel catheter in his upper chest which will be where they administer the dialysis. This procedure will only take an hour or so. Then they will bring him back to his room and sometime tomorrow or the next day they will start the dialysis. From what little they have told me, they
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will go for about two hours for three days, skip a day, then they will do four hours for three days. Then I don't know what the schedule will be. This should help in several different ways. I will know more about dialysis after Will does it the first time. I really don't know the "workings" of dialysis so I will be learning lots in the next couple of days. The drs. told us he might just be doing this for a few weeks, a few months or permanent. There is no way they can tell if the kidneys will recover or not. I think they found the damage in time because they are always checking on that. So my opinion, they will come back working full force. So that's our prayer now. Will thought he was strong enough to try a t - trial today. He did okay but only made it to 45 minutes but that's more than the last few days of not doing any. I'm glad he took the initiative and tried it on his own. I missed Dr. Cahill's visit today again, but she told Will that she things the dialysis will help and it will take some of the fluid off. As everyone knows, the fluid has been our enemy since we started this journey. Will's sleeping now, we've got two fans in our little room now. They are still trying to fix our air conditionerPosted by BOSTON CELTICS 2008 NBA CHAMPIONS22 years ago Will watched them win their last championship and he's watched every year since. Way to go green. Everyone here was celebrating just because Will was happy. Even Coach thought it would be okay if they won just this once. Posted by This flower was given to Tom for father's day from Caroline, our nurse, out of her garden. It's one of the prettiest roses I've seen. It was huge and full and it had a wonderful aroma. It brightened up our little room. Thanks Caroline. It was haircut day today. Caroline was cutting it and then Tom jumped in and wanted to try. It made Will very nervous but he did just fine. Our air conditioning isn't working on this floor so it is very hot. This new haircut will make Will feel so much cooler. Will is feeling a little better today. He stayed awake a lot more than yesterday. He stood again for a few minutes. He smiled a lot when the Celtics game was on. I have a few cute pictures that I will put up tomorrow night from the game. Sumer, his co - favorite nurse, helped him watch it. He was very glad to have Dr. Cahill back from Israel. She was so swamped with everything today that she said she would go over everything with the head of ICU and catch up. Then she will talk to us tomorrow about what's planned out. Will's kidneys are taking a beating lately. The drs. are looking into a few possibilities and we will hear from them today. They are starting to wean him down on his vent settings again. They will take it slowly since the pneumonia is still present. If Wiill has any trouble then they won't do any more for a while. Posted by Was is just a few weeks ago that we were complaining about all the snow?? It's been very hot here today, around 96 degrees when I left the hospital at 5: 00 this evening. It's the middle of June, so I guess this should be the normal weather for this time of the year. Will still is having trouble with his pneumonia. He has been sleeping almost all the time. They did stop the lasix because his kidneys are having trouble handling it. We did get him to stand again this morning and tonight but he's a lot weaker than he was yesterday. It really doesn't matter if we have to hold him up, it's just really good for him to be standing vertically to let his lungs open up. The docs decided to do another bronch this afternoon. They wanted to do a "wash" to see what was growing in there. It's where they put saline water into his lungs and then suck it back up and put it into a specimen cup. It can tell them if its strictly pneumonia or rejection. The wash takes a few days to grow out the culture so we won't know anything for a while. But the docs are really glad that they started the antibiotics when they did because he had so much thick secretions throughout his lungs. It even clogged the scope a few times. They weren't able to see too much because of all the "stuff" in there. So we do know the he's battling a bad case of pneumonia and it will set him back a little. We've been there before and we can get him back up again. So today is going to be a good day. Two things are happening. Number one - the Celtics are going to take the NBA Championship tonight (just for Will:) right Coach?) And Number two - - - - - - and the best - - Dr. Cahill will be back from Israel. She's not going to be happy with Will. Seriously she will probably come in and tell
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him to roll over so she can kick his butt. But that's just her way of saying she loves him. She'll have a day or two to get her bearings but then things will start rolling for Will's benefit. Also the doctors around here are a little afraid of her. They already told me they are taking the day off Posted by I hope everyone had a great Father's Day. Most of the nurses had bbq's with thier dads today. It was hot today, close to 90 degrees. We have an apt. that has a pool. It's already opened and kids were all over it today as I was driving past. Good summer days. Well, Will had an uneventful day today except for the game tonight. Celtics were almost there so we will get those Lakers next game. His xrays showed that his lungs are about the same. The docs are still trying lasix to get the fluids off. Will isn't cooperating very well. They will do it for another day and then stop it. His kidneys aren't taking it so well. He hasn't had hardly any more blood so the new trach is working. He is still sleeping most of the day but his body is needing it to get over this pnomonia. He did stand for a few minutes this morning so they can change his bed. Hopefully he won't lose all the ground he gained. So the docs might start t - trials again tomorrow if he shows he has some strength. One more day until Dr. Cahill comes back. Will really does need to have her here. She's his safety net. I hope to get a picture with her for the blog so you can have a face with a name. God never gives us more than we can handle, I DO believe that. So this is just another little set back. We will get back to where we were in no time. Everyone has been expressing their concern but we will get through this also. Thank you all for your emails and comments on the blog. We look forward to them so much because we miss you all. God bless Happy Father's Day to all fathers. Will and Angel have been blessed to have the best dad. One that doesn't even mind having his picture taken like this. I can't even imagine how my kids would have turned out if it wasn't for their father. I have been blessed by having a wonderful dad too. He's on a ship in Alaska right now. I was also blessed by having wonderful step - fathers. You don't have to be the birth father to be a dad. I hope all dads get to spend time with their kids today and really everyday. Will is feeling a little better today. His numbers are looking better and they have started some Lasix again because of the fluid built up. It looks like the bleeding has slowed way down. The trach might be working. We will take an xray tomorrow and check things out. They are just letting him rest again. We had some wonderful company today and it made Will smile. Thanks for coming all the way up here just to be able to visit a few minutes. It makes Will's day. Next time he will be feeling better and can visit with you. God bless all fathers especially today. God bless Friday the thirteenth turned out to be a little unlucky for Will. He was breathing was getting worse over night and then he wasn't able to get enough oxygen when he tried the t - trial. After that he was having a lot of trouble. His xrays showed that his lungs had some pneumonia in them and so we started on some high doses of antibiotics. He wasn't able to wake up so they checked his c02 and it was very high. That would explain his lethargy. They had to adjust the vent settings and that didn't help so they had to adjust some more. That helps the body to blow off the extra c02. It seemed to help. Now the vent is doing all the breathing for Will. He hasn't had any more fevers this afternoon. He did have to have three xrays today and the last one showed some clearing. Will did wake up this evening a little. He was in a lot of pain so then he had some pain meds and now he's sleeping. His c02 is coming down. Still high but it's going in the right direction. They will get another blood gas in a few hours. The drs. did get the new trach tube and they put it in. It was a very simple procedure and we watched. Now we are hoping that it will take care of the bleeding and maybe some of the vomiting. Will's blood sugars have been very high today so they had to start an insulin drip. It's coming down now. He won't be doing any t - trials or walking for a while until he's more stable. So we have taken a few steps back and we won't be transferring to another room until he's back to where he was on Monday. They might do a bronch today to check out if the bleeding has stopped. Dr. Cahill will be coming back on Tuesday. We are getting excellent help but she's our go
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- to man (woman, I mean). She's been with us since the very beginning and she does have a vested interest in Will (I really think she loves him a little too.). It's so hard to trust anyone else but the series of doctors that we have had are so great. They know what they are talking about. I don't doubt that at all. They have put so much into Will and I will never be able to tPosted by I thought this would be a good picture today. What with that great win tonight. This will bring a few people some fun memories. This picture is of Will after one of his long hospital stays. He missed the basketball shooting camp that summer and the two people that ran it decided to do something real nice for him instead. They knew he was a big Celtic fan so they bought him this Celtic jacket, hat and ball and gave it to him. That was one of the nicest things that happened to him that year. We still have that jacket. So this young man with with Will is Tommy Connor. He is now head coach at Westminster College in Salt Lake City. He and his father, Buss, were very supportive of Will as he was growing up. I'm sure Tommy doesn't mind that I put this picture up. I think the shorts are cute:) Will's day wasn't a good one. He seems to be taking a step backwards. His heart rate is up and his need for more oxygen is up. This could mean that he has a infection on board. The bleeding from his trach has slowed up some but is still there so they want to get that under control also. So they won't be moving him out of the unit for a while. The longer trach that we were waiting for didn't come in today so maybe tomorrow. He did do another t - trail and he stayed on it for seven hours which was good but he slept through almost all of it. He was able to walk a little bit but he didn't do well so they had to get him back into bed. Speaking of sleeping, Will slept through the whole Celtics game. I know he's not going to be happy about missing one of the most exciting games of the year. Tom tried to wake him up but Will was just too tired. That's alright because sports center keeps replaying it over and over again. Big uspet. One more game and they have the championship. Go Celts!!!! One of Will's favorite cousins, Missy, has been having a lot of trouble with her kidneys. She lost her right kidney now and they put a shunt into the other one to drain off infection a few days ago. Later this month they will do surgery on her. Many people Posted by Will hasn't felt too well today. He is in a lot of pain from the procedure yesterday. He didn't get any walks in but he did do a couple of trial for a total of about 11 hours. They should get the new, longer trach in today and then we will see if it is going to help him. It will definitely be a better day today. The pain should be easing up. He will get in a couple of walks also. Angel was very supportive of her brother today. She had to leave the room because his pain wasn't being taken care of and she was going to take some body's head off. She can handle a lot of things, but seeing her brother in pain isn't one of them. They finally wrote for a higher dose of pain meds. Angel left about noon so she could go with her husband to Boise. She's a busy girl. We don't know if we are going to be moving today or not. It seems no one knows so I guess we will wait until somebody figures it out. Since we know everyone here and love them and they love Will a lot, maybe we should just stay here until we go home. I doubt our insurance would go for it but it's a good idea. I hope to get the pictures up today when I got back to the apt. God bless Windy, windy day here. Middle of June almost and I am still freezing. Will probably won't be moving out of ICU today, maybe tomorrow or Friday. He was bleeding a little more out of his lungs or from his trach. So our drs. called in a pulmonologist (lung specialist) who deals with this type of thing. He wanted to do another bronch to see what he can see. He did it this afternoon and they found some spots around the trach that could be causing a lot of the trouble. They cauterized the spots so they wouldn't bleed anymore and looked around for any other problems. They decided that they are going to put in a longer trach tube as soon as they get one. Another thing was that the bulb that is at the end of the trach isn't working right, or positioned wrong, or something. It will be helped when they changed the trach tube out. This might even help with his vomiting problem. Maybe things will be helped by all of this. He is in
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a lot of pain but they are giving him some of the good pain meds. He slept most of the afternoon. He did still go on a t - trial two times for a total of eleven hours, I think. Will's asleep right now or I would check with him. He didn't have to walk today because of the procedure. It was a little more extensive than just the normal bronch. Angel has been making him smile today. We miss that because Will always had a smile. I hope by the time Dr. Cahill comes back next Tuesday he will be smiling a lot more. I see a little difference in his attitude lately. Maybe we will be getting the old Will back soon. I pray that this will happen so these nurses could see what a funny person he really is. He would have them all nervous with his practical jokes. I have grabbed some more old pictures of Will that I will be sharing a couple at a time. Some of you will remember them. I should do them Thursday or Friday, so check the blog out. I think I will sleep now, first I will say my prayers and thank God for these wonderful blessings he has given us. Close family and good friends - - what else do we need???? God bless Will did more of the same today. Walking and trial tests and sleeping. He does just a little more than the day before. Baby steps are what will get us out of here. It was a beautiful day out today. Angel came up for a couple of days again. Will secretly enjoys it but he would never tell her. Siblings! Big news. I think on Wednesday we might be moving to the intermediate intensive care unit on the fifth floor. That's a difference of nursing care. The nurses have three patients instead of two. So this is another step closer to home. We don't know for sure yet, it depends on if there's any beds available and the drs. here wanted to check into their care people to make sure they know how to take care of Will's needs. He still needs special help for different reasons. I have toured them before and the rooms are big with big, big windows. So in a way it's good, but the down side is that we have made a family here and it's so hard to think that we might never see them all again. That's going to hurt. Good side and bad side. I feel like God will take care that we see these special people again. Maybe we can open a resort and they all can come down during the summer and visit us in Hagerman. That would be SWEET! Well, everyone, have a great Tuesday and love to you allGod bless I don't know what's happening, but for some reason, the blog that I had for today was put under the one from Saturday. So please scroll down after June 8th and read today's blog. I'll try to see what I did wrong. Thanks for putting up with this technologically challenged ol 'lady. (No comments from you, Randy). Reminder: double click on pictures to enlarge them. Enjoy I had a good picture of Will's Auntie and Uncle Albert and Uncle Jim but I can't get it to load. Sorry. They came up to spend a couple of days here. They left this morning and will be going back to Oregon. It was good to have them here. Will is still just doing the trials and exercises. He walked twice today a little farther than he did yesterday, which is what we want for him to do. The doctors are happy and nothing has grown out of the culture that they took in the last bronch. That means the infection they were worried about didn't happen. Thank God. Really. We worry, we fret and we watch over our son. We put ourselves where we aren't really in contact with our outside world. It seems the whole world revolves around this hospital room. Well, it doesn't. I have decided God doesn't want us to be so secluded. We need to take care of our brothers and sisters just as all of you have been taking care of us, physically, emotionally and spiritually. God, I want to ask you to bless our family and friends who are reading this right now. Let their eyes be open to the power of Your love. Where there is pain and suffering, give them Your merciful peace and healing. You are the most powerful healer of all. I pray with all my might that a miracle is in the works. God is getting ready to bless you in a way that only He can. The people I am praying for right now know who they are. Keep the faith. Tonight is the second game of the NBA Championship. We have had so much fun with the decorations in our room. I can't believe how many people are cheering for the Celtics just because they don't like the Lakers. The main reason being that the Lakers put the Jazz out of the playoffs. Well, we will take the support any way we can get it. Go Boston. I hope all of you are using God's special day for
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God's special works. Spend time with the family. Take care of your neighbors. Treat each other with love. Be happy with your blessings. We love you all and thank you for your love for Will. God bless Will's day was good. He is still trying to overcome his feelings that he can't breathe without the vent. Some days it seems to be a major battle. He did go about 10 hours today without his vent. Not all at once, but the longest was about 4 hours and 20 minutes. That's a long time, but at the end he feels like he's run a race. He's hot, sweating and feeling exhausted. He's just sure that there's not enough air but there is and he's getting more and more comfortable with it. Just think, a few weeks ago, he couldn't even stand up and now he's walking the halls - very slowly but he's walking again. So he has made progress and we are proud of him. It's so hard for him but as he says all the time, "It's all going to be worth it." This picture is one of my favorites because I am trying to play matchmaker with these two. Antonio, one of Will's favorite nurses, and Shaleena, one of Will's favorite aides just are so cute together. It's been fun teasing them all day. They play along with it. As a female, when I see an unattached male, it's instinct to try to get him together with someone. I'll tell you all how I do. (Not that most of you would be interested, but it's our little world). It's been raining for a few days but I think now the weather should get warmer. I would like to get Will outside again soon. He needs the sunshine, but then, don't we all after the winter we had. Will has really, really enjoyed his xm radio up here in the room. We just finished with second game of the series. First it was a blowout and then watch out, the Lakers came back and played a little. It was close at the end. But Boston took care of business. Go Green. This is the picture that I took and couldn't find when Angel was here a few days ago.. So this is more of Will's decorations and the pillow I made him. In intensive care units, they can't have their own bedding because of infection possibilities so he can't use the pillow on his bed but we put it all over the room. Doesn't he look too comfortable??? But I don't think he was, I think Angel Posted by I remember getting up early on Saturday morning because that's when they had all the cartoons. What a great day, we were allowed to sit in front of the TV on the floor and watch them. Now that is all that's on TV on Saturday morning and it doesn't make me laugh anymore. We have nothing to watch. Oh woe is me. Will did two four - hour trials with no problem and he walked again with just the oxygen on, no vent. Looking good. He has had a lot of fun visiting with his Aunt Diane and Uncle Albert. They came up yesterday from Oregon and will stay until Saturday at noon. It's been very good for us to have them here. Tom loves to see his little brother. I think it's about time to start trying to get Will to let me cut his hair again. A few minutes ago, one of the nurses brought me a brownie that they had baked. How sweet is that, just like family. I guess I should try to cook something for them too. Pray for my family. There is a medical crisis (no, it's not Will this time) and they definitely need prayers. I will let everyone know later about it. God bless These pictures are of the Celtic room in ICU. It looks pretty cool even if I do say so myself. Most people from Utah are totally against the Lakers because they put their Jazz out of competition, so we are getting good reviews for the Green. Thank goodness they won tonight. We would have never heard the end of it. I do seem to be missing a picture but I will look again for it and try to put it up tomorrow on the blog. The door to Will's room has a bball on it that says No Laker fans allowed. So of course we had to put Coach in front of the door. (remember he's a BIG Lakers fan) He thought Will didn't want him in there. That was funny. Will didn't know Angel put that on the door. Good game tonight and good times. The staff here gets such a kick out of our roomCoach only stayed a little bit but Will was tired. He had a good, good day. Today was the first time he walked with no vent!!! He didn't get all the way down the hall but at least half way, I think. I really don't know if he would have gone that far without Coach telling him he could do it, just like the good
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ol 'days when he was making Will run lines in practice. I am so proud of Will and thanks Coach for coming all the way down here with gas prices the way they are. Will did three trials today and two walks. What a day. He's getting stronger. We haven't heard from the cultures that were sent to the lab on the last bronch. He started back on the heparin for the blood clotting. That's good. And the bleeding has lessen quite a bit. That's good too. We all are trying to balance all the walks and trials with his need to rest and recuperate. I think we might be close to finding a good balance. Thanks Grandma Carol for the orange rolls. Yummy. We love you and miss you too. Will wanted me to say a Happy Birthday to his cousin, Matt. So - Happy Birthday, Matt. We love you and miss you lots too. It's been raining so we haven't had a chance to go outside but as soon as it's nice, I hope we can make it happen then. By the way, for you information, today is National DoughnuPosted by Morning, I will explain these pictures later in this blog. It takes some setting up. Will got up this morning and started a t - trial. He was a couple of hours into it and Carolyn, his nurse today, came in and said that he needed to go down to get a ct scan on his lungs. We didn't know why because the drs. hadn't made their rounds yet. Well, they came in and told us that they couldn't tell from any of the scoping they did yesterday where the blood was coming from. So the CT scan could tell us probably. The drs. said they would know right away after reading the scan reports. So the test only takes a few minutes and Will was back in his room (they took him in his bed). Then we wait, and we wait and then wait some more. I'm sure for any of you that has spent time in the hospital this sounds very familiar. While we waited for the drs. to come in with the results, Angel gets bored and she takes some towels out of the dispenser and writes the "Doctors this way" (with an arrow pointing to Will's room) and then she stands at the door with a sign that says "Welcome Doctors" NOW YOU KNOW WHAT THE PICTURES ARE ALL ABOUT. It was hilarious because what would have happened if the drs. would have come in at that time. She would have been so embarrassed. I laughed until I almost woke Will up. Oh, did I tell you Will was sleeping, which was good, because he would have been so mortified. We were just tired of waiting was all. It was so funny and the nurses had to come over and laugh at us. So after all that, I found our dr. and he said it was going to be really hard to see anything in the ct scan because it's so condensed. He needed to read it with a lung radiologist. So Angel and I left for a little bit and while we were gone the dr. came in and said they needed to do another bronch (yes people, another one). They saw a pocket of blood on the ct scan and they needed to get a sample of it and run it to the lab so they can see if it's infection, rejection or run off. So we should know tomorrow where the blood is coming from. What we Posted by Will has had an interesting day today. He started out with a three hour trial and he did okay with that. The drs. wanted him to have a bronch (reminder a bronch is where they go down in the lungs with a little camera so they can look all around) and see where he's bleeding from. They did that about two this afternoon. This doesn't hurt because he's asleep. They looked and found some ulcers or lesions on his trachea and some blood down in his lower lobes of his lungs. Now they don't know much about what they saw. It's confusing how the bleeding is getting worse and yet they can't find any source of the blood. It's there but they need to find out where. So then the drs. called in the ear, nose and throat specialists because they wanted them to check the trach itself and see if they can find anything there. They took out the trach and looked all over. They did find some blood but they don't think it was enough to thing that is where all the blood is coming from. His trachea is swollen from being irritated from all the coughing and suctioning so they couldn't put a smaller trach in. I hope I'm not confusing everybody. So tomorrow we will put together all the results and see what we can come up with. I know I told everyone that Dr. Cahill (Will's main doctor) was in Israel for two weeks. We've never had to go this long without her as our safety net. It's hard to put the trust that we have in her to another doctor. So we are nervous what's happening now. I
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know the doctors know what they are doing, right?? No, they ARE smart. They just don't love Will like Dr. Cahill does. Will couldn't walk today because they didn't want him moving too much until we know what we are dealing with. I know they will try the t - trial test in the morning and see how that goes. He's still with it enough to enjoy Angel's visit. She's such a crack up. She can get him to smile at the littlest things. Our friend Tanya that is awaiting a lung transplant went home from the hospital today. She's been in for a month. So would you all pray for her to Posted by Today is our 100th day in the hospital. Now if I was in school, I would be celebrating a whole bunch of ways. One of them being we count out 100 fruit loops and make a necklace with them, or list 100 nouns or take spelling test that doesn't count and have 100 words on it. So lots of ways we celebrated 100 days in school. This 100 days we really don't feel like celebrating. His fourth day of steroids is today. One more to go. I will be glad. He is much more restless and grouchy when he's on steroids. I know, most of you don't know that Will has a temper, yes he does, and it really shows on steroids. But that is normal so we are okay. He will be glad to be done with it tomorrow. They are still trying to track down the bleeding from the trach. It seems to have gotten worse but still not life threatening. The drs. are watching closely though. He did the trials and walked a couple times. Sumer tried to talk him into another shower but he just wasn't up to it tonight. He is sleeping very well right now. God bless This is a picture I couldn't get up on the blog yesterday. It has two of Will's favorites. John, a respiratory therapist, and Somer, you all know who she is. They were standing him up to get ready for a walk. They all seem to love our son and take such good care of him. Here is a couple of pictures of baby Tyler, oh yea, and his mom Megan Osborne. Isn't he so cute. What a charmer. It was so wonderful to finally meet him after all this time. We had a good visit with his parents too. This picture of our little parade to get Will's walk done was so funny. If you notice we have a wheelchair behind Will in case he gets to tired to go. Well, look who is sitting in it. Our wonderful mama bear, Carolyn. Jonathon is pushing her. Everybody at the desk was just laughing so hard. Like I have said before, we get our entertainment very cheap around here. Will got his three time trials in plus his two walks. He is so wiped out at the end of the day. This is the second day of his steroid treatment for rejection. He has already started to swell up again. That is expected so if his pictures look worse, that's why. We will get a soft trach put in tomorrow. The drs. think that could be what's causing all the bleeding when we suction him. So hopefully that will be taken care of. The best news though is that Angel is coming down tomorrow evening to spend a couple of days with us now that school is out. Speaking of school being out, Will was so sad that he couldn't go to the Jerome graduation of Saturday. He has a tight bond with a few of those girls that graduated and he really wanted to be there. So, girls, if you're reading this, just know that your coach wanted to be there. Will is doing so much better than he has been. We will keep on pushing and you all can keep on praying. Thank you so much. God is here with us all the time and it feels so good when we aren't alone going through this. He will never forsake us. It has been promised. God bless It's just unbelievable that it's June already. Summer vacations are coming up. What a great day we had yesterday. Will had company and he enjoyed them so much. Randy (Coach) and Donna came back this morning. Well, Randy did anyway, Donna caught a cold so she didn't come anywhere near Will. While Coach was here, Megan and Curt with little Tyler came up and visited. As you can imagine, Tom and I went a little baby crazy. In fact, for most of the visit we had Tyler on different floors just walking and playing. Babies are definitely God's way of making life's troubles disappear. He was such a doll, for sure. He gave us his beautiful smiles and he gave me a kiss, not Tom though. I still can't believe he was ever here. The time went so quickly. Will couldn't see the baby because they don't allow anyone under ten in his room. That's probably the only rule that we haven't broken yet. Will really did enjoy his visit with Randy and Curt.
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They talked a lot of the good ol 'days. I got some cute pictures and I will put them up tonight on the blog. Curt and Megan brought up a real "housewarming" present from Layne and Judy and Carrie and Joe. It was so sweet, our first housewarming gift. Thanks for the suprises. Will had fun but he still had to get his workout in. He went on his t - trial a couple three times and he went for a walk. The walk didn't go as well as it has been going but there are days like that. The last of the the biopsies came back and it shows the beginning of rejection. For those of you that have been reading the blogs, you know we have said that rejection is normal and everyone goes through it one time or another. It's just a matter of adjusting his medicines. So he's on a high dose of an iv steroid (Solu - medrol) for the next five days and then they taper it down after - wards. The steroids are what they had a problem with last time so the drs. are giving a smaller dose of it this time. Hopefully he won't have the reaction he had last time. The one and only Dr. Cahill is gone on a two week vacation to Isreal. We Posted by We started this blog for everyone who cares for Will. We wanted to share his life in Salt Lake City while he awaits a transplant and after he gets the transplant. We know that his life a a CFer has been tough so we pray that the new lungs will work great so Will can get back to coaching. Prayers work miracles. Will received his two new lungs on Feb. 23, 2008. We pray for the the donor's family every night for the gift of life. There were complications during the surgery that has changed Will's life. It hasn't made it worse, it has only made it different. We continue to see the miracle of God's love in everything Will can do. HE WENT TO BE WITH THE LORD ON NOV. 4, 2009 SURROUNDED BY MANY, MANY LOVED ONES. HE IS DONE WITH HIS STRUGGLES BUT HE WILL BE MISSED, SO MUCH. GOD HAS BEEN GOOD TO GIVE HIM TO US FOR AS LONG AS HE DID. THANK YOU AND AMEN.
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I'm not sure how much I want to go into this. It's more than just a backdrop to a story. Aunt Gloria is one of my dad's sisters, and married to Uncle Joe, the coolest of uncles. About fifteen years ago, Aunt Gloria had got sick, and she had a kidney transplant. Her brother Junior gave her a kidney. Junior is the youngest of the group. He passed away in 2005, due to a stroke or a heart attack. They think it might have been related to medication he was on, but I don't know the whole story. Aunt Gloria had been fine for quite a while, but sometime in 2004 she had a stroke, a big one. Uncle Joe had - just recently, I think - retired from his construction job. And now he was on to another difficult job: taking care of his invalid wife. Aunt Gloria had been a vibrant, active, cheerful and alive woman until this, smart and sarcastic and warm and funny. And now? Now she was a shadow of what she had been. One whole side of her body did not cooperate well, including her brain. She hallucinated and had bizarre thoughts and speech. Sometimes I swear she was just fine, and acting crazy to fuck with people. I know I would. Hell, I intend to. Something like this completely changes your life - hers and his. Joe never complained, that I saw. He was strong and … maybe detached. Maybe that helped him deal with getting her up, getting her dressed, getting her to the bathroom, getting her cleaned and fed, and keeping her cigarettes and coffee on her right side, where she could see them. Maybe you don't want your friends to see you like this, if it happens to you. But if you have a friend who has known you for over forty years, I don't think it matters. Maybe a visit from your closest and dearest and bestest friend in the whole fucking world might be all the difference between just existing and having a bit hope left in your life. So when I found out - and it was just hints and allusions that I had to piece together - that her friend Diane essentially abandoned my aunt, I was kinda fucking mad. For Diane's purposes, Gloria ceased to exist. Ain't that some shit? I got out to see Aunt Gloria when I could, and it wasn't much. When we lived down the street from them, we saw them fairly often. My daughter would go up to see her and spend time with her both before and after the stroke. My daughter is sweetheart, with a heart of gold. She really cares about people. I'm sure she didn't get it from me. Diane had some kids, and one of them was roughly my age, named Bobby. Bobby was friends with my cousins that were about my age, before I moved here. So much so that even though I was family, since I was new in town, I was the outsider, not him. His mom and Gloria were tight - she was like an aunt, and Bobby was like a cousin. Years go by, and of course this happens. And then Aunt Gloria died. I managed to get both Mitchell and Miranda there to pay there respects. It was a rare thing, my family seeing my son, akin to a Bigfoot sighting and drawing the same gawking looks. Despite the years, he looked the same. Almost as tall as me, with a skinny build. The years had added little to his frame. Same dirty blond hair with a bowl cut. I had nothing against him, so I engaged him in conversation. Everything he said just bothered me. Some of it made me outright cringe. Some of it made me want to punch the mother - fucker in the face. He didn't ask about me or mine. This was going no where, then a thought occurred to me. "Hey, I know someone, this girl I work with you might know from back in the day -" I told him her name. It's this girl Kim - yet another Kim in my life - that I've become friends with, and at that time was giving a ride to work until she could get a car. "Oh, * her *?" He waved his hand dismissively. "What a bitch. She's a whore." Again, my kids were right behind me. I don't remember the exact words or order that he said them. Essentially, his ex - wife is my friend Kim's sister … so he knows her more than I thought. However, being divorced from her family I'm sure hasn't tarnished his opinion. Not only that, but his "best friend" is Kim's ex - husband. Seriously? Can you believe a mother - fucker would say something this callous? What if I knew him? What if, through her, I was acquainted with him? We were planning to get together … until that happened. I was so mad, but I had to maintain a semblance of decorum. This is my aunt's goddamn funeral, and here was this fucker, who - honestly, I was hardly more
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than a passing acquaintance with - was saying the worst kind of horrible shit about someone who is a friend of mine. What the fuck is his problem? Let's dissect this a little, shall we? First of all, in a divorce situation, there are always two sides. I don't know either one, actually. But what do YOU say to someone who happens to bring up in conversation someone that you don't like? Unless the person bringing it up is a close friend, I'm going to just casually dust over it with a "Yeah, I don't really know them," and change the subject. What I'm not going to do, because I HAVE FUCKING MANNERS, is trash talk someone right to the face of a friend of theirs. In addition to having manners, I'm also not stupid. What if the other person decides to take a swing at me because of it? Seriously, what does he expect? I'm friends with her and I work with her - hell, I give her a ride to work - and this is the first time I've seen his ridiculous ass in over 15 years. On his word I should shun all contact with her? And then what? Become his BFF? And my friend Kim does have a checkered past - she's been around. She's talked about it to me, and perhaps that's something she shouldn't do is be so open about her past with EVERYONE - but she is honest about it. And she is trying to change. She had changed, for her fiance, until his death put her life into the shitter. I felt that she needed a friend, and I even told her that: "You could use a friend that isn't trying to get into your pants." I was just a friend to her - am just a friend - someone she can vent to, cry on once in a while, and joke and share emails. And I try to guide her in the right direction, help her make better decisions. I've seen her work through some problems and slowly try to get her life in order. Just think of me as a freelance social worker. And I can't help but wonder - what kind of mother raises an asshole like that? Oh, the same kind of mother that abandons her life - long best friend in her time of need. That's what kind of mother raises an asshole like that. We get the Candy, but I haven't been home to hand it out. I'm usually working my second job, delivering pizza, and these holidays that everyone gets to enjoy I just can't take off for. Halloween is one of the busiest nights of the year. I'm working. Thanksgiving usually goes okay. If I can't get my daughter the night before, I've picked her up early that morning. Last year Mike took some of his kids, so we all went together, and Miranda rode back with them. The food thing works out okay - but this year, I was in the middle of a construction project (Hell, I still am) so we decided to go out to eat. Everyone seemed to like the food - but I really didn't. I did not have a good Thanksgiving. Besides that, we thought there was going to be a snow and ice storm, and so we cancelled going to the parade. Miranda was disappointed, and I was too. We never got the ice - Usually we get some decorations up, but we decided not to this year because of the construction. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I do take Miranda shopping and get something for her mom and her brother. And I do usually get something for Kim, even though we didn't - I did the gift exchange this year, badly. And I didn't bring any food in. No Christmas parties this year. Usually not. But we did have a funeral, and I did make a lot of trips to the hospital. Does that count? We usually do find a way to meet up with my brother's family, but I'm not sure about this year. Not with Kim in a wheelchair. I wanted to see other friends, too - I did get to go to Miranda's Choir Recital. I wish Kim could go to those, but the ex wife is a bit of a bitch about that. This town ain't big enough - This damn job is pissing me off. I have to work Christmas Eve and the day after Christmas. When and how am I supposed to have any holiday time? When? I'm going to go see my kids the day after Christmas anyway, and then come back and go to work. New Years' Eve I work - I usually have. I've been off for just a few, and they've been nice. In a way it sucks even more to know what I'm missing, versus my younger years when I always worked and remained oblivious. I like New Year's Day, or I used to. I would be off, I could sleep late, have no real agenda, get up and eat some leftovers, have a drink, watch a movie - probably not even get
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completely dressed that day. It was a good day. I like the idea of Kim's party, though. I just hope I get to go. I asked off for it - we'll see if that happens. This is not a resolution, this is just something I'm contemplating. I wonder if I can make enough and save enough throughout the year that come the middle of October I can take a leave of absense from the delivery job for about 11 or 12 weeks - and then come back in January. I need to figure out how much money I would need, and how much to save, and how it would go when I got close to my goal - I would take my vacation from my day job as well, in October. So I can enjoy the weather. I could be off on the nights and the weekends, and see people, and shop, and go to parties, and have parties, and make food, and visit, and make with all the traditions - The party is either before Halloween or Halloween night after trick or treating, so it doesn't interfere with us giving out candy. We go to the party, have a good time, meet some different people, and have a few drinks. We never seem to win the contest. For trick - or - treaters, we sit in the driveway with a fire pit and a cooler, and chat with people as they come by. The children I tease, or I quiz them before giving them candy. I hit on the moms. By the next weekend, in November, the Halloween decorations come down. A few fall and Thanksgiving - themed items go up. Some day in November is Closet Day, when we pull out the winter coats and other clothes, find the hats and gloves, and arrange the closet so we can use it for the winter. The week before Thanksgiving is the dreaded Shopping Trip to the grocery store. List in hand, we buy everything, just like everyone else. During the week before Thanksgiving, we make stuff - deserts and side dishes and appetizers and things - and put them in the spare refrigerator. I buy some nice liquor and a few good cigars. The house gets a good cleaning, and the table and chairs are arranged. Wednesday night, I go get my daughter and maybe a friend, and maybe some grandkids, and they spend the night, sleeping on the floor. Thanksgiving morning, we get up and go to the parade. We bundle up and dress warmly, and get in the van. I stop at the convenience store, and we get donuts and hot chocolate, and I make them all go to the bathroom. At the parade, I take some pictures and buy some trinkets for them as we watch. Once the parade is over, I trek back up to my ex wife's to drop off the kids, and then come back home. By then, someone has gone to pick up my fiance's sister, and my sister shows up as well. Dinner is almost ready. We eat and talk and sit around, and maybe play a game. I take a short nap, and then it's time for desert. My sister leaves, and we drive Kim's sister home. Back at home, it's time to eat again, some leftovers - this time with a big bourbon and coke. We watch a movie and enjoy the quiet time. Actually - why don't we go for a walk - at least around the block? Or drive down to St Ferdinand Park and walk around the lake? But then later, yeah, we do enjoy the quiet. The day after Thanksgiving, we don't - we probably don't go shopping. Maybe, unless there's something we really need to get for someone, in the midst of all the sales. But we do get out the Christmas decorations, because it's time. It is time. I'm putting up lights on the outside of the house, and a few yard things, while Kim puts up the tree and other things inside. I have a gift exchange at work. Kim bakes cookies. We do some shopping, and wrap presents. We buy little things for friends and co - workers. We have a Christmas slush fund that we get into, just for this. Someone, somewhere, is having an adult holiday get - together. If not, we'll have one. Just a cocktail party type of affair, holiday themed. With appetizers and alcohol. I go to my daughter's Christmas choir event. When she grows out of it, I'll go to my grandkid's. If not, I'll go to one locally, with kids in the neighborhood. The Christmas pageant is the true meaning of Christmas. Make some calls to some friends and family, and see how they are this holiday season. Be merry and bright with people I meet. Sing Christmas carols. Christmas Eve, we either go to my brother's or they come up here. Christmas Day, I spend at home. I'd like to get up and make a breakfast on Christmas morning. Later, we do the presents. I guess we go over to see Kim's sister, or we bring her over. Christmas night,
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mayhaps we go over to Kim's house. The Day After Christmas, I go see the kids. For New Year's Eve, we go to either a friend's house that is having a party, and arrange to stay the night, or go out with friends to a party at a hotel and get a room. Or stay at home and have a few drinks, and some fancy food. It's supposed to be seafood time. Shrimp, of course. Some king crab would be nice. Even that imitation crabmeat, with melted butter, and then other appetizers and finger foods. New Years' Day, we wake up, and find our way home. It's a lazy day - eventually we make it to Kim's house. That's what she said. Casual hang out and Cajun jambalaya. 2010 has a been a rough, rough year on us here at the homestead. I'm not complaining, I'm just going to enumerate them. I'm not blaming anyone - whose fault would it be? And I'm not looking for sympathy, either. Not for this devil, anyway. We started off in January - New Year's weekend, in fact. That was when our beloved dog Mac died. That was hard. The first dog I ever really liked, the one that showed me what it was to have a dog. Shortly after that - and this ran all the way through the spring - Kim was having a problem with her shoulder. She went to physical therapy, which didn't work. So she had shoulder surgery, and then more physical therapy after that. One of my good friends had a death - her fiance committed suicide. Worse for her, I know. But it was a tragedy, and it continues to touch our lives, as I help her cope, give her a ride to work, and hear people talk behind her back about what a whore she is. Of course some little things - I started a part time job and quit, and started another one. Always a little stress there. My oldest granddaughter moved to Texas. At first she thought she was pregnant, but she's not. She's still getting married. My oldest grandson is in drug rehab. Another grandson broke his jaw in September. I have some financial problems and some tax problems - the usual - Hell, I had to make the decision to let the car get repo'd in order to keep the house. I'm trying to get some answers for my sister about a judgment against her and filing for bankruptcy. Et cetera, ad nauseaum, ad infinitum … We went to Sue's mom's funeral. Following the map directions, I managed to get out of my own neighborhood okay. How did we ever manage before MapQuest? I get on the inner - belt - that's 170 for you out - of - towners - and we are immediately in a traffic backup. It's early enough on a Tuesday morning - just after the morning rush hour - and it's raining or drizzling lightly. We're going a direction that shouldn't be backed up right now. Detroit has that look on her face because she thinks I should have listened to her and went straight down Lindbergh to the Southwest corner of Fuck - All, but I know I'm right here. There is an accident up ahead, and it actually affects both the north - and south - bound lanes. When we got up to it, it looked like two cars from either side slid down the grassy median and into each other. That was my impression, and I'm sure it's wrong. But before we get to that point - that glorious point in the traffic where it opens back up and the stallions can once again run free - we are inching along on our two lanes, all of us together. Except for the occasional asshole that comes barreling down the shoulder to get around it, because they are special. A couple of cars come down the shoulder, and they get by. A third car comes down, and a big SUV about three cars in front of us pulls out onto the shoulder in front of him. And stops. And stays there. The car can't go around him because next to the shoulder is a rail because we're on a long viaduct / overpass. After that, there is a steep drop off. The car honks his horn. The SUV just sits there, inching along with everyone else. We did notice an Obama bumper sticker on the car, and we laughed. The guy is a typical liberal dipshit fucknut, and this is a perfect metaphor for the liberal elite philosophy: The rules and the lanes are for the masses, they must be kept in line. But I am a special case, so these rules don't apply to me - - like the libs in Hollywood who drive around in their Hummers and private jets talking about howLater, we arrive at the church for the mass. We're about the first ones there, and Detroit said that some were at the funeral home this morning, bringing the party here for the mass next, and then on to the cemetery after that, and then everyone goes to someone's house to eat and drink. A funeral is like an overly somber pub crawl
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. When we arrived at the church there was an old couple in front of us. The woman looked thin, but not frail - but on the verge of it - with a classic strength. The man was smiling and friendly, and looked liked he had had a stroke. He slurred his speech and favored one side. After they talked to the priest for a moment, we introduced ourselves. They are the Donius's. If you recall, the former CEO of the bank I work at is a Donius. That is their son. The old man - Walter - was CEO before that. I told them that it's just not the same without their son around. The culture that Walter created and his son enhanced has made it one of the best places in St Louis to work. Mrs D - I never did catch her name, and perhaps it was best to be formal with her - thanked me. Detroit had just said that we were friends of Sue's. Mrs D said she has known Sue since she was this high - and held her hand about two and a half feet above the floor. We gradually drifted away, having nothing more to talk about. I'm sure they were nice enough people. Walter certainly is. I have trouble hearing, and it's hard to focus on someone who slurs, especially if I didn't take my medicine that morning. So, I know - the problem was mine, not his. Detroit noticed (as women do) the size of the rock on Mrs D's finger. Well, yeah. These people were money. The bank has been in the family for nigh on 90 years or more, and these people have a tradition of money. The aura of Mrs D said, with understated class, "Old Money." We took our seats, and the ritual thus began. I'm not Catholic, so following a Catholic Mass is somewhat foreign to me. I recognize some of the words, but that was it. But for Detroit, who is a Shamans and Holy Men Detroit and I are friends with Joe and Sue. It's funny how a chain of people know each other. Bunny got me the job here at the bank. Carrie works here, and is friends with Bunny. Carrie has a friend named Sue, and her husband Joe needed a job, so through networking she helped him out. Me and Joe work together, and became friends. At some bank function Detroit met Joe's wife Sue. We had just moved and Detroit was needing a job. Sue got her one - and Alex, too - at school working in the kitchen. They became friends as well. We don't get to hang out much, like kids get to do - sometimes you have to set a play date. Like the other week, when I had a birthday party - it was one big play date, with alcohol. The more recent play date we had with them was Friday night, after learning that Sue's mother had passed away. Although I had been planning on going to the studio that night, when Sue called Kim, Kim knew that the right thing to do was go over to see her. Be with her, sit with her, comfort her. Drink with her. Bring some wine. We brought rum for Detroit and beer for me. That way she could drink, and I could have a few beers but still drive. I just can't drink beer fast enough to get drunk. We were there for about 3 or 4 hours, and I barely finished three beers. I felt like we were doing a good deed - Kim and Carrie kept Sue company, and I kept Joe occupied. In the midst of her mother's passing, they were also having some kind of fight. About what? Don't know, don't care - not my business. I kept Joe busy, let him bitch, and got him drunk enough to pass out after falling over some shit and crawling across the floor. He finally ran down, spilled his wine a bit, and eventually passed out sitting up on the couch. Then I went outside and joined the others. I'm basically sober, with three drunk women. Yay, me. They were all happy and sensitive and expressing their feelings … and talking about their wildest sex stories. Yikes. But they did all agree that I am a wonderful person, more or less - aside from his own way of doing things. I got the impression that Joe liked him even though he didn't quite * get * him. I heard he did some odd things in his house, in garden. Mystical, pagan things. From this and other things I had heard, I thought he would be a 60 - year old grizzled - looking half - Indian and half - Scottish Nick Nolte - looking dude with moccasins and bongos and a hookah, and a pet monkey on his shoulder. I pictured a loud and brazen blues - singer type, taking up everyone's space, speaking in poetry and snapping his fingers. Why a monkey? Why, indeed. Why not? Instead, the real Ravenwolf was something quite different. A young black man? No, not young - but definitely not old. Even more so than many
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blacks, he had the annoying ability to look much younger than he was. He could have been as young as 28; most likely he was close to fifty, if not older. He was definitely his own man, like Brother Todd. He dressed the way he wanted, and it was unusual enough to be unique without being odd and off - putting. In my mind's eye I imagine dressed like a pimp in a purple suit but I know he wasn't. Regular dress pants of some kind, a shirt that may have been white, with a vest, and I think there were ruffles somewhere, although that may have just been his aura. He had on a big leather overcoat, and he wore a hat. Honestly - he was dressed plainly, but his essence sparkled, so it had the tricky thing of making him appear at once both more and less than he was. It was as though … Okay, this will make more sense in the context into which I put it soon. But it was as if his physical appearance was a disguise. Not to deceive anyone, but because he wanted to live among us and this was how he did it. All of the above thoughts came to me after the fact. Sue and Carrie greeted Ravenwolf first, hugging him. Sue introduced us. Ravenwolf held onto Sue, supporting her, while saying that he had had a few to drink as well. He gave her his condolences. Detroit said to him, "I've heard alot about you," as he hugged her, and he brushed it off, remarking something about not being that special - He continued to turn the attention to other people, but in a nice way. He was genuine, and he cared to hear and learn and know about others. I had started to walk towards the van to put the stuff away, and then come back and begin the extraction process again. From about 20 feet away, Ravenwolf said something to me loud enough for me to hear, loud enough for everyone to hear, and yet no one heard but me. "Are you a Holy Man?" Not much can stop me in my tracks. I had been walking away, but I had to go back, because I had some explaining to do. Inwardly cringing from my own embarrassment, I answered, "Yeah, I am - although I don't really talk about it or flaunt it because I'm not a good example." He smiled large at me. "Who is, brother - who is?" "Well, I guess I am, then. You know, that may be why people come to me for counsel all the time. I'm not sure if that's a good thing. But I listen, and people need that." He didn't ask, but stated, "You're honest." But more than the words he stated was the image or emotional projection behind it, something that reminded me that I'm honest but I use humor to hide it, or I write fiction and make things up but they hold a higher truth. All of that came to me in energy from him as he said those two words. I laughed hesitantly, startled at the depth of our communication. "I am that." All the while the three drunk women were around us, talking loudly to themselves, us, and each other, but their noise was gently blocked as Ravenwolf and I connected. As we are preparing to go, we shook hands again, and this time - This time, he held on to my hand. At first I tried to pull out of grip, and he held. I saw his face. I acquiesced, and hAnd this is what Ravenwolf told me, what he communicated to me through our meeting and our clasped hands: he was reminding me that I am a Holy Man, and I have a mission, and a function, and a purpose. When You Wish Upon A Cyst She looked right at me. "What's wrong?" I hesitated, then pointed to her office, which is where all private conversations take place. I think it is amazing, and wonderful, that we know each other that well, that she can tell - or maybe I just wasn't concealing it well. Nevertheless, I told her what I had found. I don't remember the exact conversation, but she told me the things necessary to calm me down and make me feel better. She told me about her lump, which turned to to be just a cyst, and about her spastic reaction, thinking about wearing wigs (because of the chemo) and whatnot. I had been thinking the whole time about dying, and she was talking about the survivability. It was coming at me pretty fast, it seemed like. I was overwhelmed. Then she said, "Have you called your doctor?" Well, no. I mean, I meant to. I was going to, as soon as I was done freaking out enough to pick up the receiver. "Call your doctor. Tell them what's going on, and they will see you today. You may need an MRI or CAT scan, but get in today so they can take care of it. You
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caught it real soon, it can be taken care of. "So I called. They said this morning, or this afternoon. I went with afternoon, still don't know why. But I left early enough to go by school and register (late) for the class that started that night, made sure the bookstore would be open later, then went to my appointment. I held onto the idea that, if I'm dying, I'm going to get my money back for this damn class. I am not going to waste my time on this. I would take an art class, instead. When I saw him, we talked about a few different things, my diet, my weight, was I exercising, was I taking my meds. Yes, yeah, and yea." Okay, good. When do we need to see you again - "and he headed for the door. He raised an eyebrow, the way doctors do. I explained, he grabbed the gloves and said, go ahead and drop your drawers. Apparently, the equipment down there is more complicated than I thought. It is definitely big. - Shut up. Just - shut up. He was feeling towards the back, and I was directing him towards the front. Finally, he finds it. He straightens up." I gotcha. That is not in the testicle, it's in the skin. It's an oily cyst. Nothing to worry about. We can take it out if you like. Local anesthetic and two stitches - "he saw the expression on my face" - your choice. I want to see you again in three weeks to make sure there's no change. It's harmless, but like I said I can take it out. "I felt a couple of different emotions at once: relief, and embarrassment over how terrified I was. As I drove home, I reflected that none of that has really changed. I still felt that I didn't want to die, and I felt that being that close to it made me aware of how precious little time I have left. Even if it's 40 years. I haven't done the things I wanted to do. It wasn't looking like I was going to. And it occurs to me while I write this, that I remember a movie, High Fidelity, where John Cusack made a lot of lists, like top - ten lists. One of them was top ten dream jobs? May be I should make a list of my dreams, things I wanted to do, and see how well I fair towards making them come true. For this to BE a life - changing moment, I have to MAKE it a life - changing moment. But I'm not climbing Mt Fucking Everest. 3. I want to write. I have easily 30 - 50 story ideas in my head, screaming at me to get out and get on paper. Some of them might be good. 4. I want to get back to creating my comic strip, and be confident enough to submit it for publication. Same goes for the novels if I ever finish one. 6. I want to get to a point in my job where I don't have to work a second job. This is actually related to the last three items, so I can spend more time doing those, or doing whatever I want. 7. I want to take a vacation either on a cruise or to one of those all - inclusive resorts. Like to plan this for our 20th anniversary, which is in 2 years. In 1988, I got married. Many significant events surround that story, but I had an urge, a yearning, to tell my friend's story. I hadn't seen Lee in a while, but after I got engaged I looked him up. I wanted him to be my best man. He was thrilled, and honored, and humbled. Amazed, I guess, that I picked him. I think to him I seemed more popular, and had more friends, but I never really felt that way. Most of my time was spent alone or with him. He was my best friend growing up, him and his brother. But at different times, because one would be their his dad, who lived in my town, and one would be with their mom, who lived in southern Missouri. So I had alternating brothers. He was living in the town next to the one we grew up in, a bigger town, and I lived in St. Louis, an hour and a half away. When I went to go see him, he was living with some girl. He had already been in the Army and given a general discharge. Not honorable. Not dishonorable, either, because it has become unconstitutional to tell someone the truth, apparently. Pee dirty a few too many times, and you are out. Some girl - some woman. Some bizarre, controlling nut - freak creature with more emotional baggage than the small mobile home they were renting could hold. To be fair, maybe she knew what HE was like, and that's why she was the way she was. I mean, he was my friend, but I'm not going to make
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excuses for him. He very possibly might be a loser. Now, I did only meet her the one time, but that combined with what I picked up about her later gave me a pretty insightful look (I thought) into her character. She was a possessive, jealous, moody, vindictive, hard - to - please bitch. Since he was getting laid on a semi - regular basis he could overlook these few small foibles. I brought my fiancé with me to see him, ask him, and give the invitation. Since I did not know that he had a girlfriend, the invitation that I had carefully made out in advance obviously neglected to contain the name of Lee's current true love. Linda, my fiancé, said, well of course you are invited, please do come! I thought the matter was settled, but like Mexican food, it came back to haunt me with a vengeance at only the most critical time. When the time came to get suited for tuxedos, he came into town without her (she was working) and I sported him the money for the tuxedo. Mine was paid for with a certain size wedding party, after all, so it was no problem to cover him. I never actually had a bachelor party, which was okay, and Lee was not in the financial position to provide that type of support. Not that it would have taken much, but he was dead broke, not working, and living off the girlfriend. I had hoped he would have shown up the night before the wedding, which was the rehearsal and so forth, but such was not the case. The day of the wedding, and several thousand things going on, which was when I realized that having the wedding at noon was one of the top fifteen stupidest things I have ever done. Everyone and everything was pressed for time. Early in the morning, I called Lee. No answer. Being ever the optimist, I took it as a good sign. Obviously they were on their way. At the church, family and friends assembled. Eleven o 'clock. No Lee. My dad says, I need to consider alternatives. This, I mused in later years, is why there is such a large wedding party. Besides the bride and groom, there is best man, maid of honor, four groomsmen, four bridesmaids, ring bearer, flower girl, and maybe a few that I forgot. 11: 15. Just as my dad was about to insist again that I need to pick a stand - in, Lee shows up. Plenty of time? No, we had to go get his tux. The church was by the interstate, and so was the tux place, so it was about a ten minute round trip. No sweat. We bolted. On the way, Lee told me what had happened. His girlfriend - and honest, I cannot re - member her name - got exceptionally pissy that she was not named specifically on the invitation. She took this as a personal affront to her dignity and her fine name and also, apparently, as the last straw. Lee didn't care, I didn't care, nobody, obviously, cared. She was hell - bent on the destruction of any and all of Lee's life that did not rise and set on her and her over - priced piece of ass. Never mind that she was going to ruin a wedding. This was about her. She wasn't going. "Will you take me and drop me off, then?" Under normal circumstances, for a guy, a perfectly logical question. The next step is the last straw, when you are out of options. So to reach that point, you HAVE to explore all those options. Obviously, the wrong question to ask a woman scorned. He left hurriedly, and walked three miles to the truck stop, and his sad story eventually got him a ride to this exit, over forty miles. Then he walked to the church. He says, as he finishes his tale and we are walking into the tuxedo rental store, "It's a real bitch not having a car." That pretty much sums it up. We get the tux, get him dressed, and get back, and its 11: 40. No sweat. I worked in pizza delivery, with a 30 minute time limit over my head constantly. We had made it with time to spare. Meanwhile, it's lucky there is no history of heat disease in my family, otherwise my dad would have had a coronary. Others thought I had left for good and was not coming back - and were very reluctant to explain this to my fiancé. In fact, she did not know all of this happened until about six months later. The music starts, Lee and I are getting last minute touch ups on the tuxes by my dad, who shakes his head in disbelieve that I put all my chips on this bet, and actually won. His parting advice before he takes his seat, "You used up all of your luck. Now you have nothing." As Lee and I take our places in front, scarcely anyone noticed, because they were all looking behind them, at the main doors, for us.
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We slipped in through the side door. The reverend stopped sweating. "I certainly hope so." Post script to the story: I had scarcely seen Lee after the wedding, either. He stayed at our house for a day, and then we took him home on the way out of town for a brief getaway that my wife refuses to call a honeymoon. I heard that he stole a bunch of tools and things from his dad, whom he had lived with, sold them, and went to southern Missouri to live with his mom. Really don't know what happened after that. His younger sister got a degree and got married, she was always very bright. His older brother Charles was my friend also, he stayed in the army. He may even be retired now, I should look him up. Their dad is one of the absolute smartest people I know. I have no theories on how that affects child - rearing.
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Roger said I have issues with absolutes. And I completely agree with him. My counselor agrees with him too. I want everything to be black or white. Red light or green light. Right or wrong. Left or right. I don't deal well with grey. I hate the inbetween. You love me or you hate me. You think I'm great or you think I'm awful. Not both. Especially not both at the same time. One of my many issues with my grief is that I want absolutes there too. Probably linked back to my control issues I'm sure. Stupid control issues. I want to be angry or compassionate toward the other driver, but not both. Especially at the same time. But I am both. At exactly the same time. My counselor keeps reminding me that I can do more than one emotion at a time. And emotions are not logical. Grief emotions are especially not logical. Yes grief is a process but the process is not logical either. Again more grey area. Emotions and grief are not a math equation where there is one answer at a time. Which is unfortunate for me because I understand math. I understand that A + B = C. I can figure those things out. Also people tell me I'm so strong. Me? Strong? Are you sure? But I don't feel strong. I feel weak. I still cry a lot. I don't cry in front of people. But I cry a lot in the car. And I cry a lot while writing these entries. In my world of black and white this is not strong. People tell me I'm doing so well. But I don't feel like I'm doing well. I'm just doing. People tell me I'm extraordinary. But I feel like I'm ordinary. If not even less than subpar. Cause I am not the ordinary me. I'm fearful. I'm forgetful. I'm irritable. I'm not happy go lucky. I am not me. I'm sad. And I'm not hungry. And I'm not sleepy. And I can't concentrate. This is all grey area to me. Grey matter. Not black. Not white. But a lovely shade of neutral grey. And I don't like it. Anyone who is just married knows the feeling the first time you hear the words "my wife" or "my husband." Its weird. Its odd. It makes you feel all grown up. I remember saying it on my honeymoon. It was so strange. Not to mention the whole no longer "Miss" thing. I remember being in the hospital and for the first time, I was the center of attention. Simply because I was his wife. He was my husband. No longer was he his mother's son, but he was my husband. I was called "wife" so much in that week after the accident. "Here is his wife." "Are you his wife?" "His wife needs to sign this" "I'm looking for Mr. Jimenez's wife" Wife wife wife. It was everywhere. It was a label I just wasn't quite even used to yet. Especially for this scenario. Especially given the new legal rights and the burdens of it. I should have been though. It should have been second nature to hear it. Roger had been calling me his wife for a long time. Much longer than we had been married. Pretty much after we got engaged, he started calling me that. Especially once we bought the house together. He said it was easier to explain to people than saying "fiancee." I want to say it was because he was excited about it. Roger even mentioned before our wedding that he was really excited about being married to me. He loved our wedding and was excited about that but he was more excited about me being his wife. Today I went to drop off the renewal lease to our rental house. [Thank God for that!!] I ended up just hanging out with the renter, Mei, and her kids for a while. Her oldest son thinks I'm the coolest. As I sit here, I am covered in stickers. I also got a flower while I was there. I guess poor Xander has competition from a five year old. The night before the accident, Roger had been at the rental house. We were having some issues with water coming in through the walls and the carpets were soaked. The house needed to be sealed and painted. Mei told me today that Roger just kept saying the term "my wife" and she just thought it was so cute. She said she could tell he was excited about me. HPosted by Fear is a very powerful emotion. Politicians use it. Employers use it. Some relationships use it. Loads of people use it to manipulate others. I am not generally a fearful person. I will sing karoke in front of strangers. I have traveled to Paris and Sydney alone. I have roamed the streets of London at night alone. I have jumped out of airplanes. I have jumped off of platforms. I am not scared of silence. I am not afraid of being
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alone. Well normally... Last night I found myself sitting on the floor next to my bed. Crying hysterically and uncontrollably shaking. A month ago or so, I had the alarm activated in the house. I just felt like people may profile my house like they did in that movie "Home Alone" (crazy comparison I know). It has been a great safety net and it has given me an extra layer of comfort. Last night I went to sleep around 2am and of course set the alarm on. At 3: 27am, I wake up to the blaring sound of the alarm going off. OMG. OMG. OMG. At first I think its the fire alarm. [I have been thinking about the fire alarm quite frequently wondering how I would get both cats out alive by myself. I actually even had this thought again right before I went to bed. They don't sleep in my room and I keep the door closed.] I quickly grapped some clothing. I realize its the intruder alarm. I crouch onto the floor near my bed. I know the alarm company is probably about to call. They do. They tell me something is wrong with the back door. OMG. OMG. I have been forgetting to lock this door. I start to cry. The lady asks if I want to go check while she is on the phone with me. "No way! I'm too scared." The lady on the phone asks me if I want the police to come. YES! YES! YES! She says okay and hangs up. I sit there crying hysterically watching the clock, listening for footsteps, and watching my bedroom door for the next ten minutes. Nothing. No police. Nada. The alarm stops squealing. "Great, they've cut the wire" I call the alarm company back. Still quite hysterical. I'm shaking. I'm rocking myself back and forth on the floor. Tony, the alarm guy, says he wiPosted by Ask anyone who knew me before and ask them what my favorite dinner is and they would probably say cereal. All kinds but especially super sweet unhealthy ones. Like Captain Crunch or Fruit Loops or Frosted Flakes. I could eat them everyday all day. As a joke, we even had cereal on our Target wedding registry. On the days Roger wasn't going to be home for dinner, I made cereal for dinner. If he was just going to be late, I'd beg him that we should have cereal. On weekends, as much as I wanted to make waffles or eggs, I made cereal for breakfast. I adored it. It was comforting. It was easy. It was good. Best thing - Roger did too. How lucky was I to find the one person in the entire world that loved cereal as much as me. So I wasn't being a bad wife when I "made" cereal for dinner. I was enjoying one of my favorite things with my wonderful husband who loved my favorite thing too. Now there were some issues. Sometimes I did make him sit on the other couch. Roger liked his cereal most of the time without milk. And then he'd pick the noisest cereals ever. And for some reason, he was a really loud chewer. And he would say I had Indian tracker ears to hear him that he wasn't really being that loud. I also think he hid this fact from me until we were engaged. I do not remember ever hearing him while we were dating and eating cereal together. Or any food for that matter. He trapped me. But now... No cereal for me. The thought of cereal makes me so queasy. Even writing this entry, I want to vomit. I will only eat it when there is no other option. Even going hungry is almost better than eating cereal now. And I never want seconds like before. And the oatmeal I used to eat at work, the thought again makes me want to throw up. I can't even phathom trying to eat it. I almost feel my gag reflex even now. This is so strange to me. I guess there is some association going on here. I wish I could love it again. Of course, I wish I could love it with Roger even more. Yes, its not expected to be 27 years old and a widow. I understand this. Believe me I do. Or to be 28 years old now and a widow. Yes, its not normal. Is wasn't my plan at all. Its not what people think of when the word "widow" comes to mind. What do they picture? An old lady who is grey, short hair, wearing modest clothing. Is that me? No, not really. Well, good news is I got one of my policies for Roger. Funny thing is... all of the pictures in the guide book. Front picture is lady I described above. The humorousness begins there. For my reading pleasure, they included some testimonials from others "like" me. The closest person in age is 21 years my senior. But they all love their TCA. They also included some stories about other people who "understand" what I'm going through
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. One lady was married for 45 years. I wish and beg that I could have been married 45 years. Or even one year. But of course I'd beg for five if I had one. Another man, surprise, surprise, was in his 50s. Man, I'm so glad these people are like me. Yeah, I have lots in common with those people. Let me count the ways... Hmm, one. We all had spouses that died. Two. We all life insurance. Hmmm, that is about where the similarities stop. I know I'm in the minority here. But come on marketing department, a little sensitivity would be nice. And I thought this was a humorous job title - Delivering the Promise Specialist. Just imagine that conversation at a cocktail party. "What do you do, Dan?" "I am a Delivering the Promise Specialist" "Oh yeah, for 28 year old widows?" "Oh no, just old folks." So many rings in my house and in my life. I have my engagement ring. My wedding ring. Roger's wedding ring. Lots of fake rings. Not to mention all the mental rings and loops that I do inside my head. My engagement ring and wedding ring I adore. I can't imagine not wearing them. I vowed I'd wear them for the rest of our lives. I realize that "our lives" is over but how can I not. They are just beautiful. They were my gift. My engagement ring a promise of marriage. My wedding ring a promise of forever. I had to move them to my right hand. They were falling off my left hand. Feels a little weird not to have them there. Not to see them there. But I kept seeing people stare at my left hand (of course lots of people just stare at me to try to observe me I think). And it got annoying. And I guess that's where widow's are "suppose" to wear them, right? Divorcees and widows I think. Now they are starting to slide around on that finger. If you want to loose a lot of weight, try the lose - your - husband diet. It works wonders on cravings and remembering to eat. I had been wearing Roger's wedding ring on my left thumb. That boy had small fingers and I have / had fat fingers. I loved seeing it there on my hand. When we were in the ER, I kept asking for it. I just had to have it with me. It made me feel safe. It made me feel like it was one of the last things I had of him. I am not sure what to do with it and I wasn't sure how long I should / could wear it. Yesterday, as I was bent over, it fell off. My heart sank. "Yes dear. I'll put it away." I do have it tattooed on me now. So its always there. Now, it will sit on my nightstand till I truly figure out what to do with it again. Before the Halloween party, I was looking through drawers trying to organize them. Yes, a bit OCD but I had noticed a lot of junk in the drawers and I felt like some of my drawers were really out of whack. In one of the three junk drawers, I found these cupcake plastic rings. The rings that cake decorators put on top for children to put on their hands after they finish their cupcakes. I don't rPosted by Roger and I did two parties a year. One for my favorite holiday - July 4th. And one for Roger's - Halloween. I like Halloween as well but still adore July 4th. Our July 4th party this year was pretty cool. We had lots of friends over and front row seats to the everlasting fireworks show. I remember Roger even got hit in the eye from debris. Yeah, that caution tape was there for a good reason. Maybe we shouldn't have crossed it. Today is our Halloween party. Back in late July early August we had started planning what day and what we were going to be. Roger wanted to be Greatest American Hero and I wanted to be Wonder Woman. We had picked today as the date since we wouldn't have to compete with the downtown going crowd. After Roger's death, it was depressing to think I'd be spending his favorite holiday alone (among all the other depressing feelings). I didn't think I could go through with the party. This party along with so many other small plans we had were gone. However, I kept thinking, he would love for me to decorate the house. He would love to have people come over. He would want me to have our party. So I am. All my friends have got together and helped me plan a terrific party. I decided since Roger turned out to be a superhero, in his honor I asked everyone to come up with a superhero costume. We have so many good treats due to all our wonderful friends. And there are so many cool decorations. I know he'd be excited about them. It is bittersweet. There are just some things that are his duties
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to do. Clean the coolers. Clean the chairs. Do the spider webs outside. Do all the decor outside. And I hate doing his things. But I am determined to have fun tonight. Celebrate my wonderful husband. And be his Wonder Woman. I stole this title from Roger. The one and only time he ever blogged was about stupid human drivers. And he called them "human" and not people. It was like he did not want to be grouped with those humans. The real crazy part is that he never had an accident with another moving car. Yeah, we hit a raccoon once that caused some decent body damage. And his cousin Eddie can tell you some stories about a mailbox but otherwise, Roger was a decent driver. I swear I am a good driver. But lately, I'm super nervous. Every time I hear tires squeal, I jump and my skin crawls. If someone gets to close to me on the side, I scream. If someone starts tailgating me, I start to feel angry. When I see drivers being all super aggressive, I try to get as far away from them as possible. It is even worse if I have people in the car with me. I can't even seem to shift smoothly. I get all jerky with the clutch. And I definitely can't talk to the people in the car and shift nicely. I also feel responsible for their lives. What if something terrible happens to them while they are in my car. It's not much better if I'm a passenger either. It's just horrible. It also seems accidents want to occur with me. A few weeks ago, a semi pulled out into the left lane of a three lane highway in front of me from the right shoulder of the road. It was raining so that didn't help my mental capacity. I started crying and screaming at him. I had to slam on my brakes where the speed limit is 65mph and of course that's how fast I was going. Thankfully the guy behind me saw it happening and reacted as well. Also, when I see an accident, I just can't look. I just want to drive by it as soon as possible. When I see emergency vehicles driving past me, I just get chills running over me. I say a small prayer for whoever it is and hope for the best for them. And of course I get really angry when other drivers don't let them get by. I've never understood why people don't respect that. I've started paying attention to how I sit in the car. "Am I sitting up straight?" "If a car hit me right nowPosted by Roger was really, really into the martial arts. It was something he even mentioned in his profile entry on match. com. I can't say I was initially impressed. I was actually a little worried. Karate is for kids, right? But after three years, I was impressed at his dedication and how much he enjoyed it. Through his study of martial arts, Roger also had a thing for dragons. There used to be millions around our house. All sizes and all styles and all colors and all materials. He swore he didn't buy most of them, however, it was a bit much for my taste. I let him keep some of the cooler ones around and put whatever else he wanted in his bonus room or in his office." You can put that any where you want in your rooms dear "Before our wedding, Roger had decided he wanted to get a new tattoo. This time he really wanted a dragon. But we were having trouble finding the perfect dragon that he really liked. Some looked too evil, some not detailed enough, and some just really ugly. Finally at MegaCon (No, I did not attend and Roger did not dress up), he found the perfect dragon. It had a naked girl riding the dragon but otherwise it was perfect. So we started thinking of where and how to put this fantastic dragon at. After some thoughts, Roger decided to put in on his chest. For all his qigong, he wanted to have a little guy meditating and then out of the guy's mind the dragon's tail would appear above him like a dream. The dream would turn into a real dragon that would twist and turn around his chest and end up on the other side of the guy. It was going to be big but it was his thing so I agreed. People wouldn't see it all the time and as long as it was artfully done oh well. We put it on the" after wedding "list of things to be done. After Roger's death, I decided that in honor of him, I would place the tattoo on my body instead. Not in the same place of course, but somewhere fun. He would always be with me. A visual reminder to say he wasn't gone. A reminder of how he used to tell me all the time" I'm always with you. "" No, you aren't "" Posted by Back in July, I bugged and begged and pleaded Roger for Coldplay tickets. I saw them perform back in March of 2006 and it
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was the best concert ever. I tried to convince Roger that they would be a great birthday present for me. He shrugged me off. "Oh really? Hmm, I dunno... Maybe I don't want to get your Coldplay tickets for your birthday" I saw that the concert was sold out and figured that I just wouldn't get to see them this time around. I was bummed. But oh well. Next time. A few days before my birthday, I was talking to my friend Deb. I told her that I felt like Roger had given me a birthday present but I just needed to find it. Which I had already gone through most of his stuff at that point so I'm not sure where I thought it would be and part of me was hoping I'd find the tickets. So around then, I searched through his email that yes I hacked into and found nothing. I read the new ones. I read the old ones. I read some emails in his sent folder. I even read old emails that I had wrote to him. It was soothing in a way. If I had emails, then I knew / know he wasn't a dream. He was a real person. It was also total invasion of privacy. Something I never did with Roger when he was living just cause I really trusted him. Well, I didn't see anything about my birthday present. I was a little sad but no big deal. Whatever. Roger passed in August. My birthday wasn't for six weeks. And most average guys don't buy presents that early. So I shouldn't be blue but of course I was. Today was a crappy morning. I realized that the top I had made the night before for my Halloween costume just won't work. It actuallly woke up worrying about it. Yeah, its crazy what grief will cause you to worry about. I ran around town trying to find a new top. Which is hard to find a strapless shirt or swimsuit top in October even in Florida. I did eventually find something at Target, the last semi - red swimsuit top that will probably work (I finished it but have yet to try it all on again). When I returned home, I went to login to my laptop to check my emailPosted by A bit of sadness on this Monday evening. I guess this should be a blessing. But I find it a curse. Many of you have heard me tell the story of the accident. Probably more than once. Probably more than you want to hear. And as I have expressed, I remember seeing the car about two seconds (or so it seems) before impact and then I do not remember again until I was opening the door to get out of the car. I do not remember the conversation we were having, what I said when I saw the car, if Roger saw the car, if he tried to react, the impact, screetching across three lanes of highway, why I have bruises on the inside of my knees (still), why I had a bruise on my side in the shape of a heart, how I cut my arm, coming to a stop, if I saw Roger before getting out, or my first thoughts. I do know I was saying something since my mouth was filled with glass fragments and I do remember after seeing the SUV, gripping onto my seat. And today, I was informed, I will never remember those things. In order for me to remember, these memories would have been sent to short term memory for a few seconds, consolidated, then stored into long term memory. This did not occur. Since everything was happening so fast and my body was just trying to survive thus focusing on itself, I did not store these things in short term memory and I did not put these things into long term memory. That part of my life, those few precious last minutes of Roger's conscious life, are gone. Oh boy does this hurt. A bit shocking. Another thing I cannot and will not control. Another part of this horrible circumstance that is beyond me. On the bright side, I'm glad to know that it will not sneak up on me. It will not catch me off guard one day when I am not prepared. I will not remember. It is a little relief that I can stop trying to recall those moments. I will remember Roger. I will remember our life, our love, and our stories before all these horror. It is really the little things that make living without Roger hard. The itty bity things that make every moment of every day. There are little reminders absolutely everywhere. More than anyone realizes. I can't escape them. They are in my life always. I think its one reason I find myself changing some things in little ways. On Thursday, I slip covered one of my couches. It is no longer red, but now is beige. It made me so happy for it to be a new color. Now it does not remind me of when we were trying selling the other house. I went to the outlet malls yesterday. When cruising through a store, I saw a pair of jeans in his size - 33x32.
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I had to touch them. Every time I see a sunflower or a daisy, I think of him. He loved the yellow with brown. It seems that everyone has that flower everywhere now. Out in the yard, his banana trees have produced fruit. It reminds me of him. When I pull into the garage, the motorcycle greets me. Again, gently reminding me of him. I was vaccuuming out my car on Thursday. I found croissant crumbs. I laughed. Roger ate the croissant in my car when he had an upset stomach. He was so messy sometimes. Sometimes I avoid seeing these things or coming in contact. Sometimes I'm drawn to them. And sometimes it hurts a little more than I realize. Part of me wants not to remember. The other part of me never wants to forget. Some things I never want to let go. Some things I want to throw out with force. This is my journey. This is my every day life. Roger loved ice cream. I still love ice cream. I blame Roger for all the pounds I gained from the ice cream. But he was so good at "making" it. Much better at "making" it than me. Yes, making it. No, we didn't have one of those fancy schmancy ice cream makers. He was just better at serving it. I swear. It wasn't laziness on my part (most days), just he was really good at it. I would beg Roger to "make" me ice cream. He said I could "make" it myself just as well. "No, you make it better. Please please PLEASE!!" Insert pouty face here. "Fine, I'll make in a few minutes" And he would put it in one of my favorite cups. And bring me one of my favorite spoons. It was so delicious. So today at the grocery store, I decided to buy some ice cream. I can "make" it I guess. Well I tried. Somehow it ended up on the floor, on the counter, and in the sink. I told him he made it better than me. I had to laugh but then of course I also reminded him that this was his job. Not mine. I just finished watching the presidential debate and listening to the news afterward. It kinda makes me sad to know Roger won't get to vote. He will have no say. Which I know makes sense since he won't be affected but I know he would be disappointed. We both were excited about this election. But we were also excited about the one back in January for the primaries. We both believed it was super important to vote and to be informed. We were even the dorks who attended those town meetings about different issues. I went to one about the potential train routes and the expressway. Roger was planning on going to one after we got from our trip to Virginia about crime or something. Yeah, we were involved and all grown up. At first, since Roger and I are not of the same party affliation, I wouldn't tell him who I was voting for back before the primaries. It was kind of funny. He found this website that matched you to your ideal candidate like eHarmony for you and your vote. We would watch the candidates when they went on Leno or in different interviews. He even made me give him hints about who I was voting for back in January. Finally I gave in if he would tell me his, I'd tell him mine. Here in Florida we had an election back on August 24th as well. He send me a website to help me beforehand to figure out which people I wanted to vote for. He was great about this stuff. I wonder what he would think now with all these negative ads. I wonder what he would think of the debate just now. Or the vice president candidates. I wonder who he'd be voting for (although I pretty much know). I so just want to call him and talk about this stuff. Today is Monday. Ugh. It seems like by the time Monday gets here, I'm so ready for my counseling session. It is like my "gas tank" is on empty by the time I get to Monday and I'm so looking forward to talking to my counselor. Last night and this morning were horrible. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror without crying. I wanted to call people and I know everyone says they are there but at midnight on a Sunday night / Monday morning? When I really don't want them to be on the phone, but I want them to be at my house. At my session today, one of the topics: ProgressAnd how I need a new definition. In my previous life BRD (Before Roger's Death), progress was something I could measure. At work, I'm involved in projects so each week is a percentage of your accomplishment. Like: "How many PowerPlans do you have done?" "Eighty - five percent and yesterday was eighty percent" Yay, defined progress! I've lived most of my life like this. Just like my checklist obsession, I like checking things off
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. Or how many days till an event. For example, there are twelve days till the Halloween party. I like progress. This is how I have always defined and measured my progress. However... I need to change my definition. At least when it comes to grieving. I have been upset with myself. I have been feeling like I'm failing at the grieving process. It feels like I am getting worse instead of better. It's been almost two months and I felt like I should be doing better now. At least when I'm alone. I'm okay when I'm with friends. I almost feel normal when I'm with friends. (Almost is a huge key word in that sentence.) However, I need to balance being distracted with friends and dealing with this pain. Finding this balance is a struggle for me. I'm losing my motivation to do almost anything. I have not worked on the aquarium stand in forever. I have a table cloth to sew not to mention the master bedroom curtains I need to start. Which is why I don't feel like I'm progressing. New definition: I can not be down on myself for not doing these things. I can not be dPosted by I think about this a lot. A whole lot. It is kind of a sick thought. But, I never really thought Roger would be first. I thought I would die first. With six years difference between us, I figured at least it would be about the same. Roger was strong. Roger was healthy. He only drank rarely. I think the last time was a couple of days before his birthday. He just had a heineken and I'm not even sure he finished it. Before that, I think maybe he had a beer at our July 4th party. And before that, our wedding day. In this year, I don't even think he could have finished a six pack if you added them all together. Roger didn't smoke. He didn't do drugs. I don't think he ever even tried these things. Roger went to the gym. All the time. Or if not the gym, at least upstairs in his workout area or walking to Publix. He did what he was supposed to do. He followed doctor's orders and read fitness magazines. He was suppose to live a really, really long time. If life was fair, Roger would have only had some minor injuries in the accident like me. Why couldn't the accident have only broken his leg? Or his elbow? Or, ok, both his leg & his elbow? But why couldn't it have stopped there? If life was fair, there would be no way I was only suffering minor injuries and Roger was close to death. At the scene, when I first saw Roger I thought he was just knocked unconscious. I thought I could pull him out of it. It wasn't until I touched his face and saw the blood on my hand that I realized how bad things were. The EMT who treated me also told me that the accident was really bad. But why that bad? Why wasn't Roger strong enough? Why did I not have more injuries? Roger was stronger than me. Roger was more fit than me. Roger was nicer than me. Sigh...... together. Wow. Its quite rememberable to me. It was April 2006. And it wasn't a long one. It was more of a tester vacation. We went over to Cape Coral for the weekend. Roger needed to test for his AFAA group instructor certification and I came along for the ride. We got a mom & pop hotel. And it was just us. Alone. But the big deal. At least for me. In the car. Together. For 3 whole hours. Yes, three! No escape. No running to the other room. So an hour down & two hours to go. Roger wants to talk the entire time. I should have known. He would call me on his way to & from Miami to talk for 4 hours. Why did I expect peace & quiet now. And most of our fights in those first few months were on those phone calls. So what do I get: "What are you thinking about?" Ok. So maybe we should play some music. Well Roger had got me for that Christmas a connector to play my iPod in the car. Perfect. We both like music. We both like lots of music. I like to put the iPod on shuffle. I like various, various types of music. I had Alison Krauss, Dave Matthews Band, Beattles, Bonnie Rait, Elvis, Brittney Spears (only 1 song though), Toto, Snow Patrol, Lion King, Extreme, Cure, Ace of Base, and tons of other random selections. Roger, although likes various types of music as well, doesn't like the shuffle function. Hmm... He says "I want to listen to Hip / Hop." "Ok" Black Eyed Peas start playing. "That's not hip / hop, that's pop." "Well, I classified it as hip / hop" "You classified it wrong
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and I don't want to listen to shuffle "" I like shuffle. It mixes things up. "" Find something else Hip / Hop "I find something else. Still not" hip / hop "per Mr. Knows - how - to - properly - classify - music." Fine, you don't get to listen to my iPod "I yank the connector out and go back to silence." Why aren't you talking to me "says Mr. Music - Extraordinaire" I'm fine "" Girl fine or real fine "[Sidenote: All ladies know about this type of classification. There is" girl fine "where you just say it in hopes that the guy knows you aren't really fine so he is suppose to respond in a certain way to make itPosted by I have this disease. It's called really high expectations. I bring it on myself a lot. And today my counselor noticed that I'm really beating myself up about them. I kept saying" I should "do this. I keep saying things like I shouldn't feel this cause its silly or stupid to feel this way. Or" I want to feel this way by this date. "Where does this disease come from? I have no idea. I really don't feel like I have people pressuring me to do most things I do. My mom never really put really high expectations on me. Neither did the rest of my family. There were quite a few people in my family who didn't even finish high school. Many of them haven't been out of the country but I am always pushing myself. Pushing pushing pushing. Some good things can come from this disease. I'm very organized with things and I get things done on time. I have met a lot of my life goals. I bought a house before I turned 30 (of course now I have 2). I've been to Europe several times. I have traveled alone twice. We had a perfect wedding. I've learned several hobbies. I skydived (or skydove) at 21 and bungee jumped before age 16. I lived in NYC for 3 years. And of course I had love. So the advantages of this disease are pretty good. But the disadvantages are bad. I beat myself up for not meeting goals big or small. Like, I wanted to be the perfect wife. It was very hard for me to deal with the fact I wasn't. I wanted to be the wife who had the perfectly clean house, had dinner parties, had dinner on the table every night, cooked breakfast on the weekends, had a perfectly decorated house, and gave her husband some good" lovin '. "And there is of course not finishing my BA / BS degree yet which bothers me a ton. More than most people realize. Right now, its hard cause I have these expectations of how I should be feeling. What I should be feeling and when I should feel it. I also make sure that I do something each day. I feel like I should accomplish something. I want to make sure I have a list of things to tell people what I did each day. Again a cause of the shoulds. But whPosted by I had a horrible time sleeping last night. My very comfortable bed was just not comfortable at all. Last night I had decided that I was going to go running this morning in attempts to be more fit so I didn't take my sleep aide which was a mistake... I could not fall asleep or stay asleep. At first, it wasn't true dreams dreams when I was falling asleep. It was the type of dreams where you are awake but you are still seeing the" screen "in front of you. I kept seeing Roger right before he passed away. In one" scene "he was angry. In another he was telling me it was all okay. It wouldn't stop. Just over and over again. Then at 5: 30am this morning, I woke up again. This time from nightmares although I don't remember them. Suddenly I could hear some water dripping in the master bedroom somewhere. And my heart started racing. I started thinking about the hospital I received on Friday. I know it will be fine since it still hasn't gone through Roger's health insurance but it still wouldn't leave my mind. Of course I started thinking about other potential hospital bills. Then of course I could hear everything going on outside. It took me forever to fall back asleep. No running for me then... I slept for another hour after my 8: 30am alarm. Why must his death go over and over in my head? Why must I try to figure out what he was thinking? Why must I try to remember what happened at impact? Why do I have to worry about the future? Ugh... So I have a new boyfriend. I know! I know! Everyone is shocked. I know its probably way too soon. But he adores me. And I'm not getting any younger. He just stares at me like I'm the best thing ever. He has an amazing and infectious smile. His eyes are so beautiful. He is so adorable.
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His name is Xander. I've seen him a couple of times now. I had to keep it secret for a while. We go walking together. Oh, and he is eight months old. Maybe there is a bit of an age difference. But it will be okay. We will work it out. I'm already friends with his mom so I know I'm in with her. Not sure why he finds me so interesting. Or what we will have in common once he starts talking. I'm sure it will be fine. Its nice to know I'm still attractive / fascinating in some way. Even if its to an infant. Or weird creepy guy at the beach. (Yeah, we ladies got hit on while at the beach on my birthday by some guy offering us some "hunch punch"). I still giggle a little when I think about that title. The best thing... He carried his identification card in his wallet. He was so proud of it even if it was secret to most people. His coworkers at ACS had no idea. And they totally wish they did. I found an old ID card that didn't have the title "Reverend" but the one he actually carried in his wallet said it. Many people have wondered how & why. So... Roger got this a while ago along with his sister, Grace. (As she would say "he loved to copy her"; D) In the great state of Florida, you must have some sort of license as a medical professional or be an ordained minister to touch people legally. Roger was a Reiki Master which is a type of healing martial art and in it you touch people. So in order to not get in trouble, you need the above. And thanks to the internet and the Universal Life Church, Roger became an ordained minister. Funny thing is you get the funniest things when you are an ordained minister. Such as a press pass. Really? Why? I have no idea. You get a marriage ceremony book. Some certificates to give to people. And of course the infamous ID card. In February of 2007, Roger used his reverend - ness. He married his cousin Danny to his wife Daisy. We practiced a lot. We timed him. We made him some notecards. We even Googled lots of cool things to say as well as finding the perfect ceremony order for Danny & Daisy. He did so well at it. He got a little nervous which was super rare. He even messed up a little and instead of freaking out, he smiled and said "Starting over." He was so tempted to say "By the power invested in me by the internet..." but he held off. I was so proud of him. And their ceremony was so meaningful. After the accident, the hospital staff put his wallet in the huge safe at the hospital. On that Monday, Cecilia and I had to go to the business office to pick it up. I was a little emotional. I had bought him that wallet. They had already given me some of the things from his wallet like his driver's license and such. So I flip it open it up and what do I sPosted by Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for all the MySpace messages & comments, Facebook messages & comments, phone calls, texts, gifts, cards, and for celebrating the day with me. I truly felt so loved today from every direction. Today was nice overall. Courtney made me very delicious strawberry margarita cupcakes which I will get to enjoy for the next few days. I think they will make a fantastic breakfast. With Deb, Lisa, and Courtney, we headed to Cocoa Beach. Courtney and I enjoyed some very rough waves and I only flashed her once and only one boob. Better than my past record with this particular swimsuit. (I just can't get rid of it. I look super cute in it and I paid $5 total for it.) Then we all just enjoyed some nice October sun. Later this evening, I joined some more ladies for a night at Colorado Fondue. I love that place. Roger hated it so I thought it was a good idea. Overall, it was a great day. I did cry a little on my way to dinner. And I got a little misty eyed as I blew out my candle on a brownie to be dipped in milk chocolate. And I cried a little on the way home. It was weird to celebrate today without him. I also thought about how Roger never got to buy me a "wife" birthday card. I still want to search thru his email maybe there is something. Gosh, I miss him. Of course again, I wonder what he would have planned for today. Or convinced me that I wanted to do. Gosh, I love him. I am a young widow but that isn't all I am. I am a photographer, teacher, cat owner, traveler, remarried widow, and many more things to come. This blog is about the discovery of widow - ness, what that means, and all the adventures post loss. I was married to my best friend
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and lost him on August 28, 2008 after only six months of marriage. I am starting to piece together my life with the continuous support of my friends and the infamous Mr. X to figure out who I am without letting widowhood define me. http: / / rogerandstar. googlepages. com / ourstory
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Today I took my lab final. It was okay. I don't believe that I bombed it. I don't believe I was anything stellar. You know, I'm okay with that. It was a hard class. As always, I spent a lot of time on the test, and then I walked out of the room, and I was glad to be going. I drove off and loaded up a truckload of firewood. I'd seen a sign on the way to school. I told Tim, and he told me to drive the truck and stop in and get that wood. It wasn't split, but it was dried. Anyways, I was talking to the property owner as I was tossing that wood in the back of the truck. He was embarrassed not to be helping. He'd taken a bad fall and broken his back a few years back. He'd had a couple steel rods put in, but now he was having some terrible nerve pain. He just found out that he had to have more surgery. He looked at me. "I fell down a flight of stairs, and now I've pretty much disabled." And he was pretty pissed at the turn his life had taken. He said, "My woman is headed off. She's looking for a man in better shape than me. I told her she should. She's a teacher. What can I give her?" I listened and kept chucking wood on the truck. I had to get back to school for lecture, but this young man's story was bothering me. He talked on, like he'd known me a hundred years, and the frustration just poured out of him. I mean, here he is, maybe in his mid - thirties, and he's looking at life like it's done and over, as if he has no value at all. I said, "You know, life throws you some curve balls sometimes. I had cancer a while back." His eyes looked surprised. "It changed our life, my husband's and mine. Both of us. I can see where a surprise like this might derail your life, but you know, you take a deep breath. It is what it is. And you deal with it. You make the best of it. You know, I've discovered that some mighty powerful stuff happens during the hardest times." He asked questions, listened to what I had to say. I shut the tail gate and walked around to load the last few pieces of wood. "You're a pretty strong woman," he said. Posted by Cara will be studying abroad next spring, at the University of Daegu in South Korea. For all her squalling about wanting to see the great wide wordl, she was surprisingly low key about it. I've been to Daegu, myself. Her father and I met in Korea actually. I've studied for that final tomorrow. Don't know how confident I am about my own abilities, but I'm tired, and I have a corker headache, and so I am off to bed. We've got a new computer in the livingroom. It hooks me up to the world wide wonder of you folks, but it does not have a printer. It is not compatible with our printer, and well... money's been tight, etc. etc. * mumble, mutter * So we have the old computer in the back bedroom. That is my writing computer. It is hooked up to a printer. It is not, however, hooked up to the internet. Being old, it does not have the wireless capabilities that the new computer in the livingroom has. In any case, I spent a long meaningful day with my old computer today, painstakingly typing up my lab report. Eight pages worth of cardiac function. Calculations. Data. Graphs. The whole ball o 'wax. Padding out to the internet computer to research things, I'd have to write it out longhand and then pad back into the old computer to incorporate it into my computer. Finally, finally it was done. Long past my bedtime, but it was done, and with a huge relieved sigh, I hit print. And nothing happened. I waited. Nothing. I started to get a little nervous at the Program Not Responding message. I took a deep breath. I didn't want to close it because I had not (stupidly) saved the document yet. My heart sank. Finally, I had no choice but to end the program, and so I did, praying like you would not believe. I brought Word Pad back up, and there was nothing. NOTHING! I have to admit, there was swearing. I was in the middle of cardiac arrest when I realized that I'd done the document on Word Perfect. I brought that program back up. By then my hands were shaking, and I was sick to my stomach. A little message popped up on my screen which said that the program had not shut down properly when it was previously used, and that I needed to create a back up file for my document. It was there. It was all there! Oh thank God! It was all there
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. The printer gave me fits, and I ended up printing the darn thing out three times, but I got it. It is past midnight, and the thing is done. I have the final lab practical on Wednesday. The lecture final on Thursday. Then I Posted by Jill, I realize that you and I, and uncounted others, may not get our 'hundred years', but the fact of it is that no matter how long we get, we will feel like it went all too quickly. You are. You are present in your life. You have loved wisely and well. You have sung your songs. You have given of yourself. You have lived your faith. You are. You are, and I hope that you find peace in that. Now. Link your arms with the people who love you, and set out to claim your hundred years. That's what I'm doing. That's what I'm aiming for. And here's another, just because I like Five for Fighting (and it's my blog, after all...) There's a reason for this world. Still here. Sunday evening... in just four days, I'll be reading a book. If I wanna. Tired and discouraged. In the meantime, wander over and encourage Hal to get his hinder out of bed a little earlier in the morning. Jill could use some encouragement as well. If you're prepared to have your illusions shattered, you can go visit Jeanie. Bob's post rendered me speechless. I'll be back as soon as my torment hath ended. I have just one more week of classes. I have a quiz on Monday, for lab, and then the big practical is on Wednesday. The final for lecture is on Thursday. I have to tell you. I am so flipping tired. I have an 8 page report to finish, due by 11: 30 on Monday. The three hour lecture yesterday just about did me in. This close to the end, I expected to feel relief. I expected to feel like I was going to make it. I don't. I'm harried and tired and I'm having a hard time motivating myself. I had possibly the worst day ever at work. A fellow came into to prepay. "What pump are you on?" I asked. "I'm on the diesal," he said. "Yeah, but we have two," and being in a hurry he said, "The last pump. The outside one." "Pump 14? The side by the car wash?" and he said, "Yes." I prepaid him for $75. We were busy. I was on my own. I was trying to ring people up. Two rainbow people walked in to ask questions. I noticed that Mr. Prepay was on pump 13. In a totally unrelated chaos, the alarms on the pumps went off. I have no idea why this happened, but it already happened once this week. I had no idea how to shut the alarm off, or how to reset the pumps. More and more people entered the store. At some point, blessedly, the head of security just happened to stop by. People were mad, I'm trying to settle them down while speaking with the manager via phone. I was having a hard time hearing her. I thought it was her phone. She insists it was not. I don't know how to refund a gas prepay to a credit card. She had to come in. It was not good. I did get a lesson in how to shut off the godawful alarms, and to reset the pumps. After all the chaos settled down, the head of security said, several times, that I had done a good job, that I didn't lose my cool, that I kept waiting on customers. That was nice to hear, but at that point, I felt as if I simply wanted to go curl up in a corner and have a good cry. Night shift girl was late, as she almost always is, which means I broke late, and I ended up staying late. You know, I could almost feel sorry fPosted by We had an earthquake. http: / / www. timesobserver. com / page / content. detail / id / 532336. htmlI missed it. I was working in the computer lab in school and did not feel a thing. How about you, NW? I understand it was a 5. 0 where you were. Now there's a blog post. Or are you still in Las Vegas? This was the last day of the fetal pig dissection. I'm not sorry to be done with that. My lab partner, Ieasha, is a lovely girl, shy, smart. She was late this morning, and I had an awful feeling that I was going to be stuck working alone on our pig. Much to my great relief, she showed up, and we worked together separating the veins from the arteries, cutting carefully, teasing the tiny blood vessels apart and tracing them back. While we were working, I told Ieasha what a relief it had been to see her walking into the room.
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She said, "But you'd have been okay. It seems like you really enjoy the dissections. I stopped to stare." No, "I said." I'll be glad to have this done, that's for sure. "She said," But you're doing such a careful and good job. "I explained my strategy to her. The class' pigs are being used for the practical. Many students had a hard time with the pigs, and blood vessels were lost, or perhaps the dye did not diffuse well. I don't know. But each time a teacher stopped by our pig, they said," That's really good work, "or" That shows up really well, "or something like that. I figure for sure that our carefully dismantled pig will be on display during the practical. We know the names of the veins and arteries that we found as we cut. I figure that finding them on a familiar piglet will be a real help. That's the plan anyway. On a unrelated story, I was working at the store when a mother and her little boy stopped in. The boy had some sort of little pamphlet on frogs, and I admired it as I waited on them. He began to get quite excited as he told me about the digging he'd been doing, and the things that he'd discovered. It made me smile as I listened to this little scientist. Apropos to nothing, really, he suddenly said," And do you know that we have BONES underneath our skin? "and his little eyes went wide at the idea of it." Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, "I said." Would you like a picture of all the bones, a coloring sheet? "And he got very excited when I told him that I had one at home that he couldPosted by People have often asked how I do it. How I manage to post regularly, despite all the things going on in my life. The answer is easy. I get up early to do it. Each morning, I pad around in my bare feet and night gown making coffee. A morning without coffee would be, well, it would still be a morning, but infinitely worse. So I start my day with two cups of cappuccino from my own machine, and I bring my frothy cup into the living room, and I sit down at the computer. I take a few moments to click through the blogs, and then I quickly type up my post. It's part of my morning ritual. If I have to work or if things are especially hectic, I might not take the time to do it, but mostly I do take the time. As the coffee courses through my veins making me feel human, well, connecting with all of you, that makes me feel human too. Speaking of humans, we're a strange lot, aren't we? We got broken up into groups to do a report. Before we began, the instructor made us pick a speaker. The research was done there in class, and the reports given at the end of the period. I was chosen to be the speaker. There were some problems with the printer, and we got one copy of the article we were working from. There is one girl from the group who is very explosive. Basically, you get one chance with her, and once she is angry, well, she stays angry, and runs her mouth. Time was running short, and I said," Listen, I need to read that through that article if I'm going to speak on it, "and she got mad, immediately, throwing the papers at me in disgust. It's weird. I work with her aunt. She's still quite angry at me because a customer requested a pot of flavored coffee on Saturday. We don't normally make the flavored coffees on weekends, but my understanding was that if a customer requests it, we make it. So I made it. The coworker got quite provoked. I explained to her why I made it. She refused to accept that. It happened again, a couple weeks later, and again, she took exception to the fact that I made the pot of coffee for the customer. WhPosted by Well, damn. I studied hard this weekend for those two exams on Monday. I literally studied for hours. Hours on Thursday night. Hours on Friday morning. Hours on Saturday morning. I even skipped church to study for another few hours before work. The one thing that I will own up to is when I got home from work, my intention was to study another few hours. I couldn't. I was tired, and discouraged, and I just went to bed. My intentions were to get up early and hit it hard, but I didn't do that either. I just was so sick of the whole thing, I couldn't bear to look at the stuff yet again. I trundled off to class, and I was feeling pretty scared. I kept trying to tell myself that really, it was all there in my head. I just had to stay calm and reason it out, answer carefully. I had
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the lab test first. I thought it went well. I headed into the lecture hall feeling cautiously optimistic about the 6 chapter test. I took the whole hour on it. It was hard, but I reasoned it out as best I could. When I left, my cautious optimism was still intact. This morning, in lab, we got our quizzes back. I got an 78%. A lousy stinking C! This was very discouraging to me, but I did not have time to mourn about it. We took another quiz, and then dissected a sheep heart and began work on a fetal pig. They are so cute. What a terrible thing to think that they never had a chance to even take their first breath. Baby pigs are just adorable anyway. Of course, they are a lot more adorable when they are breathing and squealing and running around than they are laying in a lab dissection tray. Take my word for it. The girl I was working with said, "You know, this is one of those things that I would never choose to do, dissect a fetal pig." I agreed. "I have had fun before, but I noticed that every time I was having fun, there were no fetal pigs around. Coincidence? I don't think so." But we stoically went through the steps, and cleaned up, and I wandered down to the lecture hall realizing that somewhere I'd lost my cautious optimism some darn place. Posted by Well. I survived the great tests. I hate to count chickens before they're hatched, but I think that I did okay. On both of them. Maybe better than okay, but I guess I'll know by the end of the week. That big practical we had last week? Got another 'C'. That was discouraging. Thank goodness that the written portion sort of balanced out the practical. I bombed that. Really bombed it. 66 percent. I got an 85. 5 on the written, so the two of them equaled a C. 10 more days and this class is OOOOOOOOover! I'm not sure that I'll have enough brain cells left to actually read my brand new book. I saw a bald eagle yesterday on the way to work. Breath taking. The Rainbow people are here. I have stories. No time to tell them now. Friday weigh in: No weight lost. No weight gained either, and I gotta tell you, the whole 'comforting myself with food' has been an issue this week. I've been doing pretty well with that. So we'll just focus on the 'no weight gained' this week and call it good. I am having my morning coffee (second cup) and about to head back to the other computer where a charming human cadaver awaits. We will cover muscles and bones for the big tests on Monday. Tim works second shift, and that has actually been a big help. By the time that I get home from school, he's off to work. I have the evening with my books. It gets kind of lonesome though, and I'm sure he's lonesome too. A kind of cool thing happened. I had to go to the local store to get some colored pencils for labeling muscles. I saw an excellent deal on a book that I thought would be a good Christmas gift for the girls. I stood there flipping through it, and suddenly, it occurred to me that I could buy those books. Tim's back to work now. So I gathered up six books, and headed off to the register with my books and colored pencils. On the way, I saw a toothbrush holder with matching liquid soap dispenser. We have needed a toothbrush holder for a time, ours being too small to accomodate the handles of our toothbrushes. I stood there once more, just reveling in the wonder that if I wanted to buy this I could. And so I did. I spent a whopping total of $10. 87, and walked out of the store with my bags feeling like a rich woman. I'll study this morning, and take a break to get the house cleaned (oh, man, does it ever need it...) and then I'll go back to the books after Tim leaves for work. Tonight though, I've got plans. I'm headed out the door to have dinner at 'new' Mary's with some of the funniest people that I know. We'll be blabbing and laughing and eating. I'm looking forward to this more than words can say. Today makes it official. I am two thirds of the way through this class, and my head has not exploded. I have two mega exams on Monday, one in lab, one in lecture. I went to the lab for some extra study time with the muscles. There were three girls there doing the same thing. We all agreed. We feel like we are in over our heads. That made me feel a little better. I said, "The night before last, I was trying to study and burst into tears. I went to bed at 8: 30." Everyone laughed. One girl said, "You know, when my sister was going
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to school for nursing, she was a screaming maniac when she was doing Anatomy and Physiology. I thought she was ridiculous, and I always complained about it. Now I totally get it. I apologized to her. "Another girl said that the previous night, she just put her head down and cried over her books. Her mother was heading up to go to bed, but worried about leaving her alone while she cried." Just give me a tissue, "she sobbed to her mother." I'll be okay. Just go to bed. It's alright. "It felt good to laugh about it. It's 3 AM. I woke up suddenly, and it was clear to me that what I needed to do was to 'organize' my information. Cells. Tissues. Organs. Organ System. And then I began to do that in my head. Myofibril. Myofibers. I began to see how I could do this. I still have a lot to do, but at least I see a way to accomplish it. What a relief. Posted by I cannot study one smidge more. I am brain dead and I have a headache. Nothing is making a bit of sense. I'm tired. So I have closed the books. I have cried 'Uncle'. I'm headed to bed. I have a huge 3 or 4 chapter test on Thursday. Something like that. It's all blurred together so badly I am not even know what we're being tested on. Too tired to go look. If I did go look, I'd probably be horrified and begin to cry. The test was long, and it was involved. I feel like I did okay, actually. (No word bank.) Then I listened to everyone else talking about how hard the test was, and got a little nervous. Maybe I didn't do as well as I thought. A lot of people blew out of there pretty quickly. I did not. I spent an hour and a half on it, double checking myself to make sure that I did not make any stupid mistakes, making sure that I answered all the questions. Will it pay off? At this point, I really could not tell you. I honestly do not know how I did on the test, and that generally is not a good sign. I left that class room with one hour to kill before hte next class. I am also ashamed to say that I went to the cafeteria to grab coffee, and succumbed entirely to temptation. I comforted myself with french fries fresh from the deep fryer. I felt so guilty eating them that there was no real pleasure in them, but my frugality would not permit me to throw them in the trash. * sigh * Am I not the biggest mess you know? I was thinking that I had to get at least a B in this course to remain in the OT program. Since I have (knock wood) an 82 or something close to it, at this point, I was scared sick. One really bad test score could have taken me below that B, easily. I found out today that I only have to get a C. That is a huge relief. I have a bit of safety padding between me and repeating the course. 15 more days and I can read my brand new book. I received another test back today. I got another C. That makes three of them. It is frustrating because I study hard for the tests, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. Tomorrow is the huge practical. I went to school this morning and worked in the lab for three hours reviewing. I have studied all afternoon, and took a break to call 'old' Mary, who I have not had time to talk to for a coon's age. So much happening in her life, and I'm missing it all. So we caught up briefly while I washed the dishes, switched out the laundry, started a new load. It felt good to catch up. And then it was back to the books to study some more. Here's what I know for a fact. We are getting this information at such a rapid pace that I can scarcely keep up with it. My biggest problem is that I study and study and get to the point where I am fairly familiar with the words, and what they mean. However when I am given a definition and required to supply the word, I am not so acquainted with the word that I can just pull it out of the air. If we have a 'word bank', I will be do pretty well on the test. If we don't, I'm afraid that it will be another mediocre grade. I'm not sure. I don't know. * bites fingernail nervously * Okay. I'm going to bed. Only 16 more days and I can read my brand new book. I worked Friday night, and Saturday, and I will go into work at two today, after church. Dylan came home in his new Jeep Wrangler. It's nice, and he's proud of it. He'll head back home today. Cara leaves today as well, headed for her summer job working with the
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Upward Bound program. Cara did bring home 'Shudder Island' and we watched it after work on Saturday, before I went back work on the massive homework assignment I had only halfway done (and due Monday, handed out Thursday). Dylan and Cara were very firm. "Mom," they said, "there will be no guessing the end. There will be no asking questions. Just watch the movie." I must say, the movie did not lend itself to that. It didn't ring true to me that there were so many sub plots. The Nazi aspect would have been adequate, or the deceased wife, but to try to connect both of those stories? It was too much. "It doesn't even seem real. And the bandage. What's up with that bandage? He's had it on his head now for days upon days." Dylan looked at me and laughed. "Yeah, mom, just the other day, I put on a bandage and people started dying all around me. And I wondered about bandages then too." He looked at his sister and said, "That mom... she's cracked another one!" And he and Cara laughed hard, shaking their heads. Tim shushed me, laughing too. But who had the last laugh? Hmmmmm? I did, I did! * waves hand wildly * Then I went back to work, and I finished my homework (six hours of work, that.) I was able to read the paper for a few minutes before bed. We'll go out for breakfast before church, and before everyone heads out. I feel badly about 'missing' this visit with the kids. I feel great about getting that homework done. Only only 17 more days and I can read my brand new book. Have I, by chance, mentioned how happy I will be to see this class end? I did? Okay. I wasn't sure. Completely unrelated comment: Even as I was typing in the last words, a tremendous cacophony of hooting owls took place in the woods behind the house. That was cool. And for some reason, it reminded me of mDebby This doctor visit, I had questions. I made my little list. I had my blood work for the appointment. I received a call the day before the appointment asking me to be there 15 minutes early. I reported there at 12: 45. At 1: 30, Tim was nodding off as we sat in the little room. I walked out to the desk and explained that I had to go to work. The nurse assured that me the Dr. had 'just gotten there', but I also knew that there was another couple waiting to be seen. There was no point in staying. Even if she had only spent ten minutes with them, I still would have had to leave because I would be late for work. So I left. I have no idea what happens next. You know, I was told that I was to be conscientious about keeping appointments for yearly physicals, since tamoxifen is linked to endometrial cancer. So I'm careful. I made my appointment. My family doctor has become part of a larger medical group. At the time that I made the appointment, I was told that he would be gone for a great deal of the month. The receptionist mused, "I imagine that you want your appointment with him..." and I said, "Well, no, actually. I really have liked the last two physicians assistants that he had. They both knew their stuff. So, yeah. I'm comfortable with the new physicians assistant." The appointment was made. The day before the appointment, I received a call telling me that the physician's assistant was not coming to my doctor's office, and that I should report to - - - - - - - - - -'s offices for my appointment. Okay. The morning of the appointment, I received yet another call. The physician's assistant was now not coming in at all, and the appointment was canceled. I was advised to make another appointment. These are small things. Really. I know. But whatever happened to plain old consideration? I remember when, if an appointment was canceled, you were called, received an apology, an explanation, and a new appointment was made, all in the same call. And the thing is, I'm not old. Well. Not that old. I have not lost a pound this week, so the scales remain at 18 pounds lost for the year. Exercise really makes a difference, and the only thing getting a workout lately is my brain, and apparently working your brain, no matter how strenuously, does not burn a lot of calories. That's some sorry news there. At the rate I've been working this old brain, I'd be skinny if this sort of exercise burned calories. I'm pretty sedentary at this point, having little time for anything else. After my big push in the spring, it's a little embarrassing to admit that. I was working quite a bit, but the last couple of weeks, my hours range between 20 and 25. I'm actually
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grateful for the lighter workload. Balancing nearly full time hours and this class made me feel a bit insane. I have an appointment at the cancer center this afternoon before I go to work. I'm interested to see how the tumor markers are. We're studying bones in class. The teacher spoke on arthritis. I listened carefully. My PET scans show areas of activity at the iliac crest. Their words, not mine. I was told that it was probably due to some degenerative condition like arthritis. But studying the bones intently, it occured to me. The iliac crest would not be affected by arthritis. She gave us a break at the half way point, and so I had a chance to ask my question. The teacher looked me square in the eye. 'Arthritis is a joint condition.' I knew that. I'd already figured it out, but I guess that I had to hear it. "I'm not an expert," she said. "But you've got questions. I'd have questions too." So today, it will be interesting to see what the blood work shows. I'll ask my questions. The answers will tell me what I need to know. The thing that makes me impatient with myself is that I feel badly about hurting anyone's feelings. As if the most important thing, even still, is what people think of me. Speaking of cancer, there's a guy who comes into the store. Tall. Bearded. Do - rag. He comes in to gas up his motorcycle and to buy his cigarettes. Because I'm a bit of a blabbPosted by Went to class, had more new words thrown at me. A heaping helping of new words. Dear heavens. I don't know if it is possible to absorb that much. We covered two chapters. I've got a lot of homework. I've got a practical on Tuesday. 200 points. Am I scared? Um. Witless. I left school glad that class was done, glad that this week is done, glad to be able to say that I am half way done with this flipping class. Ay yi yi. This is killer. KIIIIIIIILLER. The lab teacher? It appears that they are going to work with him, give him a chance. I was relieved. I was afraid he'd be fired or something, but he wasn't. Left there and went to work. That manager apologized and said that she was totally out of line. That made me feel better. I apologized for responding in kind. Now I'm home. I'm going to bed. Furthermore, I am not going to set the alarm. I will wake up when I want. Sadly, that will probably be about 6: 30. That's okay, I reckon. I'll get an early start on that truckload of homework and the bejillion new words I have to figure out. The end. The teacher for my Anatomy and Physiology class is young. He and his wife are far from their home, the parents of newborn twins. He got this job two weeks before class started. That's a lot of changes for him. Because I have kids his age, it bothers me. He is not a confident teacher, and the thing is, he's horribly unprepared for class. He makes mistakes. He doesn't know things. He tends to hand out work sheets and let us find our own way. He gives us a list of terms and we study the bones until we figure it out. The problem is that knowing where the superior articular process on a vertebrae means nothing at all until you see how the inferior articular process fits against that. And how the atlas swivels about on the dens of the axis. Until you see the pieces working together, you don't really understand the purpose, how cleverly designed it all is, how the head of the rib fits into the costal facets, and and how the clavicle fits against the scapula at the shoulder. It's fascinating how we are assembled and simply looking at a bone means nothing until you see how it goes together, and suddenly it begins to make sense. You find that you know where to look for the bone markings. It makes things go much more quickly when you see how it goes together, and at the pace of this summer semester, we really do not have time to 'dumb around' in the wilderness, fumbling to make it all make sense. The teacher is the key. Our lecture teacher gave us a quick class and, in the hands of a skilled teacher, we learned more in that hour then we did in the previous three. That's the truth of it plainly stated. However, I cannot help but feel sorry for the teacher. This is a hard class. Darn hard. He's overwhelmed at home and has begun a new job as well. He probably has not got unlimited amounts of time to devote to preparing a lesson plan from scratch. I don't know. I'm doing okay in the class, but I hear others complaining bitterly about the teacher. But I have heard the self same students say, "Oh, I don't have time to study tonightPosted by We got our tests back in
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lecture. (Remember that big test that I studied all weekend for?) I got a C. I was pretty blue about that. I had really studied for it. To add insult to injury, I got another C in the lab practical held the same day. The lecture teacher was thrilled with our efforts. No one failed. I guess that's never happened in a summer class before. I think that I did very well on the test we had today in lab. That should help balance out those two awful Cs. We have another test tomorrow. Another opportunity to raise those Cs. I'd better get to it. 22 more days and I can read my new book. A nice thing happened last week. There was a message on the answering machine that I had won a book at the library. There is a contest, and if I know the answer, I drop a slip in, but I've never won before, and I certainly haven't had time to stop into the library for a while. Reading for entertainment seems like a foreign concept. Anyways, the lady's recorded voice invited me to stop in and pick out my book. So today after school, I had to go get blood work done for the stinking tumor markers, etc. and so I stopped by the library to pick up the book. They had a whole rack of brand new books. I had my pick. What a delightful moment! Do you know how long it has been since I got a brand new book for myself? Like... a couple years, maybe more. Really. I always buy my books used. If I get a new one, it's a gift from someone. That's nice, don't get me wrong, but this was a rack of brand new books... and I got to take my pick ~! They were all novels. I picked them up one at a time, and finally settled on Pat Conroy's' South of Broad '. I carried it out of the library, and to my car. I flipped through the pristine pages, unturned by human hands. I looked at the words yet unread, and it was such a little anticipatory thrill. I can't read that book now. I've got an Anatomy and Physiology text and matching lab manual that needs to be read first, but when I got home, I lugged my heavy back pack into the house, and I carried that book in my hands. I set it down carefully on my bedside table. After the first of July, I will be able to read it. I know that it probably sounds ridiculous, but I cannot tell you how much I'm looking forward to that. 23 more days.... It's interesting how things work out, isn't it? I was actually sick when I went to work. I was working with a young man who's actually an acquaintance of Cara's, also home for the summer. He was there for the' scene 'of the previous day, and he felt strongly that the manager's behavior was totally uncalled for. He spent the rest of his shift listening to her muse on the subject. "I was going to apologize, but..." etc. From that, I was able to figure out that she, on some level, realized that she had behaved badly. For my part, I was reactionary. I try very hard not to be, but I was emotional too. So that made me feel a little better as I scooted around mopping the floor and doing the things that you're supposed to be doing when you're not waiting on customers. There is an elderly man that comes into the store and gets a couple coffees once a day. We've spoken in a friendly way since I began work there. He liked our place but was having a single consistant and annoying problem when he went to other gas stations from our chain. I explained to him how to solve his problem, and also pointed out the number to corporate on his receipt. "It's a training issue," I said. "Like as not, the person simply has never had anyone teach her how to do this." He was quite friendly about it, and was much happier when I saw him next. My solution had worked perfectly, and the girl at the counter had been pleased to learn something new. A win - win situation. Anyways, we were busy, I was on my own, and he waited patiently watching the customers, watching me. Finally it was his turn. I thanked him for his gracious patience, and rang him up: two coffee refills, just like usual. By then it was just he and I in the store, and there was time. I was getting his change from the drawer and he asked, "How do you like working here?" I was a little startled, but I said, "Oh, the job is okay. I like people. But sometimes it gets too busy. I try my very best, but I get flustered and screw up. Yesterday, I got yelled at, and I got mad back... I'm worriePosted by The gas station where
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I work has 14 pumps. Of those 14 pumps (which are on both sides of the building), we are required to 'keep an eye' on the customers because they have the option of pumping first and then coming inside to pay. You'll have the occasional customer who will 'forget' to pay, but most of them are pretty good. Thursday night however, we had three drive offs on our shift. One was actually not my fault, because my register had quit working and the manager was on it. However, by the time that I got back on my register and discovered the driveoff, the other register was preparing to break, and I was told the ring the sale up. Later I figured it out: this meant that I was' claiming 'it. I was the one who had to call it in to security. I felt badly about it. I haven't had a driveoff before. But to have two more on top of that? God. I went in yesterday, and I worked the whole day. As I was coming close to ending my shift, we discovered that we'd again, had two driveoffs. The assistant manager was quite upset. The store was busy. We had lines. There's no way to keep track of all those pumps and wait on customers one right after another. To compound things, I made a mistake on the register and couldn't figure out how to fix it. I had to ask her help. She was very upset and let me have it, complaining about mistakes that I'd made before (' But you told me about them, and I've corrected them. '' But only after I told you about them. '' Well, isn't that what training is? 'Next thing you know, I was as upset as she was. Doing a good job is important to me, and I felt awful. Number 1: She shouldn't have upbraided me in front of everyone. Number 2: She shouldn't have blamed me for the driveoffs. Number 3: We were both upset. The thing is, I don't have a clue how to prevent this: the store is just too busy. The assistant manager told me that everyone else manages to do it. I personally think that we are lucky to live in an area where most people are honest, and then driveoffs are not a big problem because of that. I cPosted by I hurtled that one pound mark. This brings my year's loss to 18 pounds. I really can see that exercise makes a big difference in weight loss. This week, my work hours have been cut to 22. I have to tell you, I was so glad to see that I almost cried in relief. This gives me time to scoot into the lab and do some histology work before the big test on Monday. In flipping back through, it seems like all I talk about is school and this damn A & P. As if that is all there is. It isn't. It takes up a huge chunk of time, but there's been other things. I was driving to school, and I passed a small marshy area. I always take the time to look at the geese. The little goslings are adorable little fuzz balls. One day, I glanced over as I drove by, and there was a penguin in the tree. I did a shocked double take and realized that I was staring at an osprey head on. From that angle, all that I saw was the upright black and white bird, looking for all the world like a penguin in a tree. Penguins are not native to this part of the world. That made me laugh. I saw a turtle crossing the highway during morning rush hour. It was a large turtle that had cleared my lane and was just crossing the center line. I couldn't stop, but I worried about that turtle. He was probably a snapper, and moving him off the highway would have been as easy as getting a large stick and poking it at him until he clamped down, and then dragging him off the road, but it was busy, and I had a class to get to, and so I decided that Yertle the Turtle was on his own. It did make me glad to see that cars were swerving to give him wide berth. On the way home, I looked for him, and was glad to see there was no turtle carcass. That made me glad. A friend died. Of cancer. I didn't know that she'd taken a bad turn, having been too busy to call. Cara's home, and I feel as if I have no time to be with her. Tim and I are moving in our own directions. He's busy on the house. I'm, like as not, headed to work or headed to school, or have my nose in a book. The other day, I wasPosted by As expected, I bombed that lab. Not only did I forget the diagram of the serous membrane, I also forgot to finish a second question. 2 1 / 2 points lost there needlessly, and it made me sick. Combined with what I missed, I ended up with 17. 5
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points out of 25. Another error I made in identifying parts was to simply label an adrenal gland as' adrenal gland 'instead of' left adrenal gland '. I also did the same thing with a teste. Foolish mistakes that I'll try my best to never repeat again. However the good news is that I think I did very well on the lab quiz we had today, and combined with my previous grade that will bring me back up into the eightieth percentile. That test we had for lecture? The one with all the chemistry, the one that I studied myself blind on? That one, I got a 93 on. I was also kind of frustrated to see that I'd also missed a question there for misreading it. How stupid! Our huge test (chapters 1 - 6) has been delayed. Just as we filed into the lecture, we lost power. The auditorium was plunged into total darkness. I sat there for a time, but nothing happened. We all went outside, where we got to know each other better as we waited to be dismissed. So I got home early, even though my intention was to stay the afternoon and get some extra time in the lab with the microscope and histology slides. (Big test on that Monday). So I've been doing some extra studying, but I took a break to make two quiches (homemade crusts, too). They are baking even as I sit here. The kitchen has been put back to rights. I keep telling myself that when I am done tomorrow, I will be 1 / 3 of the way through this class. These calculations make me gladder than I can say. Thanks, everyone. Here's the dealy - deal. I brushed up a little on the lab stuff, but since I didn't have a lot of trouble with the rat dissection, I did not spend a lot of time on that. My focus was on the lecture portion which had me drowning in chemical stuff that scared me to death. The fact of it is that I went to school early to sit down with my lab book, but got there and discovered that everyone else had the same idea. The hall was packed with people, and they were all talking. I got into the class room. The testing was new to me. Picking up and moving every minute meant that I was interrupting myself to move and I found it very distracting and hard to keep my focus on what I was doing. I don't think that I did well on this test overall. (When this gal draws a blank, she is BLANK!) Once my focus was lost, I started to get nervous, and even things that I would have expected to have no problem with, I was struggling with, and well... What I have learned from this is: 1) I need to study just as much for the labs as the lecture portion, even if I think that I've' got 'the lab. 2) I need to understand that focus is going to be an issue for labs practicals and compensate for that. 3) I need to get over it, and move on smartly. 4) I have also learned that when I study myself blind, even the hard stuff (like chemistry) can be conquered. 5) Drive my own car. 6) Always drink my coffee from my' lucky 'mug on a test day. Lessons learned. Today is a new day. Well, I am ashamed to say that I think that I bombed the lab practical. I've never done a lab practical before. Basically, you move from station to station. You have 1 minute at each station. A station might have nothing, in which case, you work on the portion of the test that is not related to IDing rat parts and pieces. I go down through the test and answer the questions that I know first of all. Then I go back to ponder on the questions that I might have to think about. This particular test asked you to draw a picture of a serous membrane, label the parts, discuss the purpose. It was easy. EEEEEEEasy. I skipped it because I needed to think about how I was going to draw this. People. I handed in the test without going back to it. At the end of the lab, I was packing up my books and notebook and stuff, and I caught a glimpse of my notes on serous membranes, and my jaw dropped. I realized what I had done, and I wanted to simply drop my head to the table and weep. But there was no time for that. I had to move on to the lecture portion, and the next test. That test, with all the chemistry and stuff, the one that I worried so much about, that test, I actually think that I may have done well on. I am afraid to say that out loud, however. After that grueling morning, I walked out to the car. Cara's car, actually. She was borrowing mine. Mine has automatic headlights. Hers doesn't. Yep. You guessed it. Battery was as dead as the rats on the lab table. At that point, I did cry. Just
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a little. And then I borrowed a phone to call Tim. So yeah, I feel like I did okay on the second test, but then again, I'm kind of prone to being a complete and utter dumb ass, tripping over the details of virtually everything. Hard telling, until I actually see those grades with my very own eyes. Inorganics: water, minerals, bases, acids. Organics: carbohydrates, lipids, proteins, nucleic acids. Ionization, cations, anions, metabolisms, catabolisms, anabolisms, Hooke, Aristotle, Hippocrates, van Leuwenhocke (sp, probably), Darwin, organization of an organism, the eleven systems, steps of a scientific study. What's a complex carbohydrate? Name three simple carbohydrates. When is an atom at its most stable. Name a hydrophilic chemical. Is it polar or non - polar? Name a hydrophobic chemical. What makes it hydrophobic? Chloride is always a anion (-), sodium the cation (+). Last night, I kept shoveling it all in, and trying to understand. This is nerve wracking because I'm used to studying something until I know it, but here, there is so much to know, and so much that it ties into that I cannot be confident that I know it. The best way to describe is that I'm trying to pour a bag of sugar into a measuring cup. It won't all fit, but I'm trying to get as much in as I can, heaping it, but what a mess. You know, this is just scary. I also have a test in lab, a practical. I have studied very little for that. (I don't have a dissected rat at home.) I'm tired. Tim argued me into bed last night. He's right. There would be no sense to staying up all night to study. I'd just be exhausted and when I'm exhausted, I falls apart. Lots of weeping. Everything seems too big to handle. Not a good way to walk into a major test. So, I went to bed, and I was sure that I wouldn't sleep at all, but I did, and soundly too. I ate breakfast this morning, being mindful to eat a heaping helping of protein. I've gone over my notes. After I'm done here, I'll get my shower and head out the door early to study my lab stuff outside the classroom one more time. I'll knock that out of the way, and then head to lecture where I'll have twenty minutes to study before class begins. As I was drifting off to sleep last night, an astounding thought hit me. What I am studying now is the basics of A and P. This is the foundation of A and P. This is the simPosted by I'm the wife of a good man, the mother of good kids, the grandmother of sweet William. I am a student. A small time writer for the local paper. I am funny. I am serious. I am practical. Hardworking. I make great bread. I'm loyal.
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I spent much of my childhood growing up in care. This blog is the voice of the boy I was and the man I am always becoming. There are so many others like me reaching out. I choose words. I rarely dwell on the past these days. Increasingly it feels like an old house I have almost moved out of. The walls and floors bare. The furniture gone. The last of what is left in cardboard boxes waiting to be taken away in the final load. The older memories that make this past are slowly slipping away. Making space for the newer ones. My son navigating the assault course on sports day. Arms and chest pumping. My wife's face as she takes my hand and places it on her belly, 'can you feel it?'. Newer books. Newer songs. Newer surroundings. Slowly being in care is getting away from me and I don't know exactly how to feel about it. Growing up in care has dug itself deep into my DNA, but increasingly more is pouring into that space. It is getting crowded. Older parts unfamiliar. Lost on the fringes. A part of me says I should be happy about that. The time was hard. Lonely. Incredibly lonely. But it was also giving. Giving of people who wanted to care. Giving of new experiences. Giving of the opportunity to do something different with my life. There are malignant memories I cut out long ago. I needed to so I could keep going. Other memories I wanted to hold on to, but they had to be edited. A trim here, some extra light there. Characters cut from a scene. New words for old. We all do it, mainly unconsciously. Tinkering and forgetting. Rearranging our own life story. A constant reboot. Unfortunately there were casualties. I lost some of the smiles, cuddles, laughter and silences where I was happy to be there and nowhere else. I know this because after seeing the Halls again after twenty one years they started making their way back into me. One of the hardest things about writing this particular blog (I have been writing and changing it constantly for the last 11 months) is it forced me to reflect on my memory and question its authenticity in parts. It led me to question my own authenticity as a person. Where do I fit in all of this? I found the whole thing disorientating. Over this period I found myself accepting that these memories would never sit still. They would always be on the move. Always changing. Something in them would remain solid, but like clouds they would forever be shifting shape. I think back now to my meeting with the Halls. Driving in the car and my wife asking if I was ok. I felt as if I hardly existed. Like a stick figure scrawled on a blank page. The markets Jenny Hall and I had once shopped in for my school uniforms and that silver suit I wore at her twenty fifth wedding anniversary with Michael blurred past outside we drove the short drive from my house to the Halls house. I stared ahead not wanting to look at my wife. I didn't want to feel. I feared her eyes would unlock my own. We moved quickly through clear roads until the sat - nav announced the last turn and suddenly we were outside the Halls' house. I stopped the car and just sat still for a moment. An emptiness and then a gushing of feelings. I felt like a big man. I have a family, my own home, a job and a car. I can do this. I felt like the small boy on their door step with all his belongings in plastic bags waiting for the door to open. Every part of my body felt heavy. I couldn't move. I was scared. Excited. Sick. Proud. Alone. Protected. Vulnerable. The man. The boy. Both wrapped up in each other. "Shall I get Dylan?" my wife asked. Our son sat nervously in his car seat in the back. His big brown eyes darting between me, my wife and outside the window. This new place unfamiliar to him too. "No I'll get him," I said, getting out my seat. I walked around the back of the car and felt the heaviness in my limbs leaving. A lightness taking its place. I reached into the car and lifted Dylan out of his safety seat. We grabbed onto each other and held on tight. His little arms and legs flooding me with strength. I remember words running through my mind like ticker tape 'This is my son and I am his dad,' as I walked towards the Halls' front gate with Dylan in my arms. 'This is my son and I am his dad'. My wife opened the gate and together we all walked down the path. A knock at the door, maybe the ring of a bell. A curtain flickered to our right and then was pulled back. Jenny on the other side looking out at us. Our eyes meeting. Smiling. Surprise and a softness that I had not remembered she had spreading across her face. The hardness I had always remembered already fading. The door opened and we all hugged each other before sitting down on the
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soft chairs in the front room. I scanned the unfamiliar room, its contents quickly forgotten. We started talking. I don't know who or where. Much the hour or so I spent with the Halls is a blur, but what anchors deep in me about seeing the Halls is that a part of me was home, but completely at peace with the Halls. I had left on the worst terms, but now my leaving was just a tiny piece of something bigger and better then I had been remembering over all these years. Jenny, Michael and Rebecca are part of a fragmented family I carry inside me. A rich tapestry that I am forever patching together. A fabric, as strong as blood. Carers in children's homes like Leonard and Carol that gave me more time than just their shifts; friends and their families who have shared their tables and Christmases with me; Ken who went from being a work colleague to a mentor to my hero because he loved me unconditionally; my wife's family who have always embraced me, even though for a long time I found this hard to accept, but they were understanding and I love them more for that. I look at this beautiful, complicated, messy tapestry that is my life and I see the Halls and my heart hurts in that good way. I remember Jenny was sat next to you and kept on looking at you with a big smile on her face. Michael was regal in his comfy chair to your left, and flitted between benign smiles to glimmers of recognition and joviality with you and Jenny. I remember it was you who started the reminiscing game. You would say a name of someone you all had known, some I recognised, some I didn't, and Jenny would fill you in on what they were doing, who they were married to, what trouble they were in. The conversation seemed stilted at first. You jumped from person to person to keep it flowing, and then slowly it became about you all. First all of the good memories. Some of the films you watched, you mentioned Christmas and the pork you would pickle in jars for days before. You talked of your memories of the extended family, and the house itself. You talked about your brother and you all laughed about him and the trouble he got into. Michael came alive when he heard his name. He would look at me across the room and smile and occasionally said "they always take the mick out of me". I remember the one cup of tea we both had getting cold, and Dylan getting restless. I remember feeling like I was an outsider looking in, but for once not feeling annoyed that you didn't help me penetrate the conversation. I remember Dylan outside running around their beautiful garden, and Jenny standing by the back door watching him, saying what a lovely little boy we had. I remember there being mainly laughter … I don't remember any bad stuff being spoken of. I remember the glint in your eye when we left, and squeezing your knee in the car driving home. I remember thinking you might cry with relief, and I remember wanting to cry myself but holding it together for you. I remember taking the picture in the garden of you all, and thinking you all looked like a family. I remember your very long and lingering hug with Jenny, and thinking that it was almost medicinal for you and the darkness you had felt about the Halls when you and I first met. I remember being moved by the intensity of the goodbye. I do remember you walking on air for a few hours afterwards. It was a lovely sight. I stare into the full length mirror. Thirty - six years rewinding to reveal a fifteen - year - old boy. This echo I still collide with from time to time. This is the same boy who slid himself out of the back window of their Toyota mini - van and ran. I blink and twenty - one years pour back into the mirror. What will they think of me now? 'You can see what she is going to be like when she grows up' Jenny says. I have been waiting for this moment. The slow deterioration between the Halls and I had been leading here and had quickened in recent weeks. Breaking point had been brushed while on holiday in Jamaica. Something about a shower. Did I or did I not have one? I said I had, but they didn't believe me. We all stopped talking for the rest of the holiday. I remember eating pizza with an American couple who were staying in the same hotel as us. They thought it was madness. Did I ever have that shower, I sometimes wonder. When we returned to London I was asked to apologise for the incident. I refused. Apologise for what? I had had enough. Enough of them, enough of me with them, just enough of it all. This had to be broken. Smashed to pieces. I was good at breaking things. Jenny's comment about the Cosby Show Girl hung in the air for a moment. Before I would have stopped myself. Swallowed the sentence. Respect your elders. But elders are not always right. Deep down the fear of being moved again to the unknown often forced me to resist the urge
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to speak my mind. I had been in other foster homes and children's homes. They were not all like the Halls'. I may have struggled there at times and that comes with being in care, but I also remember the excitement of Christmas they conjured, Sunday nights watching 'That's Life' with Horlicks and running around the common with Michael covered in dust and dressed in half his work clothes. Towards the end I constantly found myself tipping over the edge of their many boundaries. The same boundaries I am currently laying for my own son. There seemed to be so many of them. I had come from a place almost without limits. Here they were everywhere. Boundaries for behaviour (there will be no punching, pushing or kicking). Boundaries for eating (just one packet of crisps and a funsize chocolate a day (and you must eat fruit)). Boundaries for speaking (we will not accept swearing or the use of the word 'ain't'). Boundaries for what time you had to go to bed (simply cruel). The most painful boundary of all was the front door. At home it might as well have been non - existent. Back then, when I got in from school, if I even came home, I was immediately back out through the front door. The estate was my playground. Now I was trapped. I never saw then the dangers the streets sometimes conceal from a mad little boy desperate to climb about building sites and hang out building camps in garages. My mum had tried her best to set her own boundaries when we lived together, but I never cared. She was weak and we both knew it. The shouting and screaming never made a difference. I just laughed at her. She was struggling to control herself. What chance did she have with a little boy who thought he was already a man. The Cosby Show Girl's video had finished, but I was just starting. 'How do you know what she is going to be when she grows up? What kind of stupidness is that!?', I said. By now we had walked outside and were heading for the mini - van to drive home. More words flew between us, but Rebecca (Jenny and Michael's daughter) had had enough. 'Just be quiet John!' she shouted. More ammunition. I didn't hesitate and shouted back. 'Shut yer mouth!'. It was a phrase Jenny and Michael hated. Throughout the argument Michael had kept his silence. We did not call him Mr Miyagi - the calm and wise mentor to the Karate Kid - for nothing. It wasn't just he looked a bit like him, it was also that he shared his serenity and good nature. But this was no Hollywood film and Michael had also had enough. He jumped out of the driver's seat, opened the side door of the van I had just climbed into and grabbed me round the collar. He pulled me towards him and was shouting words that just washed over me. There was a fraction of a second where I just knew I had done it. This was the breaking things part. It was a relief. There was no coming back and in the heart of such an angry situation I felt peace. A couple more tugs and I was back in the real world. I pulled away from Michael, who was already releasing me with what looks like regret in my memory's eyes, though I could be wrong. I had one last look and then dragged myself out of the back window and ran. I had arrived at the Halls' as a ten year old with my brother with just a few bags and a lot of baggage. They had filled my life with so much more than I could have experienced if I hadn't have ended up on their doorstep. They were human. There were mistakes, but they cared deeply about me. I stayed with them for almost four years over two different periods. It ended with me running away from them in that van. I ran back to my mum's house, where I would stay briefly before going to live with my best friend for the rest of my time in someone else's care. I stare into the mirror. In one hour I will be meeting the Halls again. 'Are you ready John? I think we should go now?', my wife shouts from downstairs. I don't know if I am. The place I ran. The place I rode. The place I screamed. The place I shouted. The place I laughed. The place I stole. The place I said sorry. The place I would not. The place doors slammed. The place footballs flew. The place camps grew. The place I fought. The place I kissed. The place I held. The place I let go. The place of swings. The place of struggles. The place of scaffolding. My mum. My brother. My friends. The place of games. The place I won. The place I lost. The place I called home. They took me from that place. They took me somewhere else. From SW15 to SW16. Just a single digit difference, but a world away for a nine year old.
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Everything I knew, for good, bad and all else that slips in between, slowly faded behind me. All my roots that cut through the concrete surfaces of the estate and embedded themselves deep into the ground were hacked at, but never severed. As much as I was flesh and bone, I was also the concrete tower blocks and metal railings of the estate I still see when I sometimes drive it. I was still the curly hill I would skateboard down and I was still Ali's shop over the road and up the slope where mum could buy things on tick. I'm still that place. The social worker who picked me up from a neighbour's house was answering the call my mum made. She could not cope. I was put into the state hands and the state did what it thought was best. A family was found via a short stay in a children's home. A good Christian family. A family with a mum and a dad and sons and a daughter and two dogs. They had two bathrooms and thick carpets. They had a garden with a shed and they even had a basement. I remember being amazed when I first arrived at the foster home. The quiet road lined with trees. The tiny room when you first walked in to hang coats up in and put your shoes. The red wine stairs that climbed high to the first floor and then kept climbing beyond. The welcoming faces … but this was not just SW16, this was another country. They spoke a different language. They kept picking me up about my dropping of't's' and my use of the word 'ain't'. They dressed differently. They ate different food. They went to Church. They prayed. They went on planes. They filled the trolley to bursting in Sainsbury's. They sat round a table at meal times. Some of these things I fell into. So many of them brand new. I liked the material things. Things I could touch. Things I could taste. Things I could hold on to. Things I could keep. In my file I would later read that the foster parents questioned my desires to possess things. It was seen as shallow, but if one looked a bit deeper they would have understood when the most precious things are taken away from you, possession of things in itself becomes important. But what I wanted more than anything was to go back home to where I belonged. Where I fit in. Where people understood me and where I understood them. It didn't matter that I didn't have the words to express all these things because we didn't need words. We just were. In between the struggle we held on to each other and we helped each other. Even when we were fighting. In the end though my mum couldn't hold us all together. She was not strong enough. She needed more help and support and unfortunately either it was not there or she didn't know how to take it. A decision was taken early on to slowly sever the link between my mum and I and the estate. After each visit I suffered. My temper would flare. I did not have the experience, the strength, the understanding to contemplate what was happening to me. My head was a constant riot. So much noise. At night I would sometimes sit in the dark thinking about everything and it would become too much. I would wake up in wet sheets and just lay in them hoping they would dry and nobody would know. They always did. I remember once my friend Brian coming to visit me. Both of us just boys. It is a memory that has recently returned to me. I was so ashamed. He was my best friend and I was ashamed. I think that was the last time I saw him in my childhood. A home is more than what lies behind your front door. It is more than a family. It is the paths you pass through every day. It's the two steps you always jump over at the end of the stairwell. It's the bunches of daffodils you hurdle every summer. It's the pissy lift you help make pissy. It's the anti - climbing paint on your hands. It's the concrete pavement slabs you scratch 'I woz ere' on. Home is where you lay your life. It saddens me to read that children taken into care are still placed in foster homes and children's homes far from the places they once called their own homes. Sometimes this in other far flung parts of the country. I do appreciate for some children this distance is necessary and in their best interests, but ultimately adults need to remember that even a couple of miles can seem like a huge distance to a child. It took me a long time to accept I was not going home, but I believe the separation could have been handled much better if people had taken the time to listen to me and to ask the right questions. Time should have been taken to help me through that process. It was, and at times, still feels like a bereavement. One day I was running around on the estate feeling like a king and then the next I was in care, in a foster home asking if it was alright to get a drink of
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water. I benefited from being taken into care and although my placements did breakdown, as it did with the family in SW16 after the second period I was there, I have understood it was best for me. That is sometimes hard to reconcile because it has hurt my relationship with my mum and destroyed my relationship with one of my brothers. Still, I know the alternative is I would have likely ended up in a place I do not want to look too deeply into. I just wish the adults that were tasked to look after me could have looked a little deeper, been a bit more patient and tried to stand in my scruffy trainers. Share this: Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Google + (Opens in new window) Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) Click to email (Opens in new window) Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Like this: Like Loading... 3 comments When I look back to those Christmas' before I went into care nostalgia takes hold and pulls me under. It takes me all the way down to a place that is free from the times that followed. That place is still pure. Perhaps purer then it ever really was. It is a sanctuary that I am now allowing myself to return to because for a long time I banished it from my mind. I feel myself being shaken out of the darkness. The world coming into focus through the face of my mum who is rocking me awake. Her eyes are wide and filled with excitement. 'Wake up, wake up.' Soon me, my little brother and mum are sitting underneath the tree. 'We're just going to open one each', she says. The clock says we've only just crept past midnight. We open them all. The memory breaks into pieces and starts to scatter. I can't hold on to it. Bright reds and greens and golds and silvers swirl. Before it is all gone I see us in our dressing gowns. I am pouring water into the top of the train. I push the switch and we all watch in amazement as it chugs across the carpet pumping out real steam. Then things change. You have no control. Just a pawn on a board in a game you have no clue about. You hold onto the hope that this is temporary, but as time passes that hope fades. In its place you build walls. You duck down and dig in … and then Christmas comes. It strips everything back. It amplifies everything in its very nature of being a time you share with those that are the most important to you. The people that you love. Your family and your friends. Even if they annoy the hell out of you, or you find it difficult to be around each other, this is the time you come together. This can be an incredibly difficult time and, for me, it wasn't isolated to my time in care. It carried deep into my adulthood. That amplification never went away. It acted as a reminder of what was taken away from me. I know that nostalgia plays its part, but I also know that Christmas was always a very special time at home. We did not have much, but at Christmas we had everything. Mum moved heaven and earth during that time of the year to make it special and that stays with me. The beauty in that memory however became corrosive over the years. Until I had my son. This year feels different. I see the excitement in my son's eyes and it rekindles the same excitement I felt as my mum rocked me awake that night. Together with my wife, we are building Christmas anew. We will create new memories that will amplify their own story as time passes. Christmas will forever carry an echo of those times I spent away from my family, but as I have written before, these echoes carry the message of how important right here and now is, and that we have to take our own destiny in our hands and build our own future. At this time of the year I want to build something magical for my son. I want him to see the same excitement I saw in my mum's eyes back at the beginning. I never really believed I could get the job. After I was shortlisted for the interview there was a moment when hope dared to flutter into my thoughts, but I quickly buried it under my concrete insecurities. The role was far too out of reach for me. I didn't have the right experience. I would get found out in the interview. My wife and my friends at work cheer led from the sidelines as best they could, but I became increasingly afraid as I thought about the next stage in the process. It takes me two scans through my care file to find it. 'On 3rd October, 1988 [mum] phones Social Services saying she had left both boys with a neighbour and that she had no intention of collecting them as she could not cope'. I have tried to remember that day a number
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of times throughout my life. I have even attempted to write about it and have sat my brother and myself on the neighbour's sofa with our feet dangling over the side. He is crying and I am scowling. The neighbour is in the kitchen washing up and waiting. What must she have felt back then I now wonder. It is a story I've told myself so much that it almost feels real. This was not the first time I went into care, but was the last time. After this occasion I never went back home to live as a child. This experience and all the moves that followed chipped away at a self confidence that was once brutally strong. It was a confidence that had me challenging anyone to a running race in the playground, a confidence to scale up the sides of any buildings clothed in scaffolding and a confidence to run around with kids older than me and hold my own. This all before I reached ten. In care this confidence was smashed. I became hollow. I tried to reach out, but I did not know how. One set of foster parents, that I spent a considerable amount of time with, wrote in my file that I knew what pleased people and that I could be a 'bit of a creep'. As I get older, my childhood is something I have continuous dialogue with. I admire that boy and that he came through that experience. He is my champion, but there are times when I struggle to make the leap to the man I have become. After the second interview I walked out knowing I had done as much as I could. Again I felt relief that I hadn't embarrassed myself, but I also felt proud of what I had achieved to get to that point. I still held back the belief that I could get the job, but now it was over in my head there was nothing more I could do. The next day as I was sitting at my desk the phone went. I knew it was about the job and took the call outside. I braced myself because in that moment I was so close and I suddenly let it all go and I desperately let myself want the job. On the other end the voice talked about some areas for development and that I lacked certain experience. My heart sank as I agreed on the phone. 'But taking that into account we would like to offer you the job'. I wanted to scream, but replied 'that's fantastic news'. I know that I will always carry a lack of confidence that I believe was profoundly brought about by being in care, but I also know that it is the war I wage with this negativity that has kept me pushing on into places I never thought I belonged. It is important to add that growing up in care does not give me a monopoly in the ongoing struggle for confidence. I think that is very much part of being human. We all carry that fear that likes to wake up from a slumber just in time for job interviews, school or work presentations and any kinds of public speaking. My intention for this blog entry was to rewrite something I had composed sitting in my garden way past midnight some time ago. I had just dropped Daniel (not his real name) back to his foster carers. It was the first time he had been to my house. He met my wife. We talked in the garden, ate lasagne and then spent the rest of the night cracking up to Richard Pryor. When I got back home I went out into the garden and sat on the bench bathed in the light of the security lamp. I was exhausted. That's when the feeling comes. It comes from a long long way and drags so much with it. It is part of the deal. I accept that. Right now all that text I wrote without much thought sits under the line I am now watching drag itself across this computer screen. Those words down there feel too far away now, like someone I once knew, but have lost touch with. As always, the beginning of my writing is a struggle. I often start with a voiceless feeling that aches to be more. It aches into a ripple, a ripple into a tide, a tide of words. Words the last gasp of that original feeling and a poor substitute because what I feel put into words is always running away from what I'm really trying to say. Every word dilutes these feelings. I wish I could paint. How can I introduce Daniel and our relationship? On the forms I fill out after our meetings they say I am his mentor, which makes him my mentee. Both terms jar in my throat and whenever they leave my lips in conversation an apology immediately chases them down. But increasingly I see I can't understand like I thought I could. Everybody's care experience is different. I can read reports and case studies and study statistics, but Daniel has his own story. Whilst it's true that we share the experience of being in care, that is not always a bridge. He does not want his vulnerability to be put on show. When I first met him with his social worker, Daniel sat slouched in his chair and looked disinterested. It took me back. I couldn
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't help but remember all the times I sat just like that with my 'I don't care face', all the while listening, watching and processing it all. I felt helpless and so out of control. I looked into his eyes as he sat across from me and I wasn't fooled by his apparent disinterest. We have got on from the beginning. Laughed and joked. We have set boundaries, but both creep over them from time to time. He tests me, pushes me and when he asks if I have ever taken drugs or if I smoke or asks about women I stumble through my thoughts of what to say. He stands at almost 6ft and I have to remind myself he is 14, but I also have to remind myself that everything we build is on trust. At the beginning I avoided some of his questions and fell back on the 'that's private, I'm not saying yes or no', but that has faded as we have got closer. He opens up to me and tells me things that make me laugh, but then also scare me. But this relationship is much harder than I ever thought it would be. In the training before I started they warned me that it would be tough at times. There would be let downs and the relationship could possibly break up. This is not for the faint - hearted or the fleetingly altruistic. There are times when you want to give up because you feel you are not making a difference and it can really hurt. You can give a lot and get nothing back, but as Angela (who runs Stepping Up UK who I mentor through) said 'he keeps turning up doesn't he? So you must be doing something right'. Those words carried me a long way. I have to admit at the beginning I thought it would be different for me as somebody who had grown up in care. I thought I could clamber my way through all the barbed wire that I knew would be between us at the beginning. But, of course, there are no free passes. Trust takes time and lots of hard work. Trust is probably the most important thing to somebody in care; trust and time. I am getting used to long silences and one word answers to questions. I also constantly remind myself he is 14 and this comes with the territory. I am getting good at stealing smiles off him through my own stupidity. He is teaching me to be a better father to my son and also how to listen better. We both take turns to teach and learn, though I wish I could have more influence on him. He has so much potential. Words that are plastered on all my school reports. I was too busy trying to get through my childhood to realise that potential. I regret that now, but also understand why he rejects school at this stage in his life. I hope the future will look after him, and give him time and education like it did me. There are people around Daniel that care about him and want him to do well, so he has a chance. He is intelligent, but like so many of us is afraid. I keep trying to tell him we all carry this fear, but what separates people is what they choose to do with it. Again, I have to remind myself he is just 14. Mentoring is a challenge. Working with young people in care can be incredibly hard whatever role you play, but Daniel's life has been hard, harder then most. Some of us are lucky enough to fall into our families when we fall. It's something many of us take for granted. Why wouldn't we? But to wake up in another person's house and to be raised by people that do not share your history or your dark brown eyes can be isolating. Instinctively the reaction is to withdraw. When you're young, feelings can often be hard to articulate, so we say little or nothing at all. Our care experience can sometimes seem to pollute our identity and corrupt our memory of our childhood. I have to tell myself these things a lot now. I have to take myself back and remember. So when I sit across from Daniel in a restaurant and I can't get him to speak I have to think that is ok because in the end no matter what the most important thing is that I am there and he keeps coming. It doesn't matter if we don't have the words, as long as we have each other's presence. There will be time to talk when and if he wants. My role is to be there. 'I care about him. I have told him, but it's difficult to convey that to a child. I'm tempted to delete that and say' young person 'because that would probably be more politically correct, but even though he does go out to all hours and does drink and does smoke, he is still a child and that should be protected.' He would hate that, because he wants to escape childhood as quickly as possible, but I feel there is a responsibility to try to let children be children. In care you have to grow up too fast. You see too much. Feel too much. It is hard to see
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the child in him, but we need to help them hold onto that for as long as they can. 'I want to do more. Help him more. Sometimes I feel weak and helpless. Sometimes I just want to hug him because I can feel that hurt, but I don't. It is a kind of hurt that doesn't want to be hugged. It wants to be buried. It's taking time, but I'm starting to learn that I can't fix him. I thought after my experience I could. I was blind. But it's not about fixing. It's about presence and being there. Especially when they act like they don't want you there.' March 18, 2013, 5: 18 pm Filed under: leaving care, Life in care, Uncategorized | Tags: betrayal, brother, care, love, regret, siblings, social services, The Who Cares? Trust, Who Cares?, Who Cares? Trust I scanned my memory. This was too big to forget, even with my sieve like memory, but still I wracked my mind and kept questioning it. No this was a mistake. The letter stated the accident had happened early in the morning. I never drove in the mornings. It was a week day. I checked my diary. I was at work. But I wasn't the driver I continued to protest, and no I didn't own a Renault Megane. I was then told I also owned a Mercedes. It sounded great, except parked outside my house was a very boring VW Borra. There had been an angry conversation outside my house. "I can't find you," he said, "where are you? … Come down and meet me." I could see him from the kitchen window, but I wouldn't go down the four flights of stairs. I was always going to him. Always the one trying. Always doing the running. "Well fuck you!" he shouted and the silver Mercedes disappeared. I called him. After the denials came desperate pleading. "But I'm your brother … you'll send me to jail again … just say it was you, come on the claim is going through". His pleading quickly turned to rage. "You've never changed … this is just you rejecting me all over again". What was his betrayal now became an opportunity to drag up the past and a decision I had made as a 14 year old boy. He threw as much as he could down the phone and then was gone. As kids we fought. When I say fought, I mean I bullied. It is only in recent years I have been able to accept that. So many memories I have hidden. Not only from other people, but also from myself. I remember outside our tower block stripping him naked. Other kids on the estate were laughing and egging me on. I wanted to please them more then protect my brother. I could try and defend myself. try and paint a picture of some of the things we had both experienced or seen. But it doesn't matter because nothing can take that moment away. Still as much as we fought, we loved. The love is still the same, I think for both of us. It is a wild, passionate, confused love that wants to belong, but doesn't know how. It rages that it wants to rest, but cannot sit still in each of our hearts or heads because it never had the opportunity to mature. His face and presence were a constant reminder of everything we were losing. It is fair to say we needed to be taken away from the lives we had. Mum was very sick and getting worse. We were getting into increasing trouble at school. His dad was non - existent and my dad intermittent in our lives. I went into care permanently at the age of nine. Some days it's easier to remember being in care, but other days it's like staring into a black hole. What is always constant in my memory, however, is the utter shame I felt. That shame was magnified in my brother's presence. He kept reminding me of home. I missed my mum and my friends. I knew I had to destroy them all and the hope of ever getting back. My brother was the strongest link so my effort was concentrated here. The fighting and arguing increased. Everything he did annoyed me. At the time I couldn't understand why, but now it is all so obvious. I threw all the pain at him, the one person who knew exactly how I felt. When he needed me the most I turned my back on him. We were finally split up when I was 14. We've never recovered. I have moved on from my care experience in so many ways, but this is the one area that has never healed. Perhaps the damage was too great and too deep for us. Before our most recent split after the car incident it was impossible to escape our past. It was always there in the room with us in opposing corners. In a recent speech MP Edward Timpson spoke about children in care in the context of the new children and families bill., He said 'How would
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we feel if these were our own children? We'd almost certainly be outraged. Spurred into immediate action. So what's the difference with the children in the care system? The truth is there is no difference. They are our children. '
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I furrowed my brow as though I were giving that question a lot of thought. "No, Jake," I said, "can't say that you have. OK, we'll get to the blockbuster thing later. Now let's talk about what happened when you were released from the Metropolitan Correctional Center in 1985 and returned to Portland." By now I knew how to get Jake fired up, so I continued with a straight face: "You would have been almost fifty years old then, so I assume that's about the time you started to calm down, right? The ravages of time and all that. The years take their toll on all of us, even Jake Sawyer." "CALM DOWN?" Jake boomed. "That was more than thirty years ago, man, and I'm still living right straight friggin 'out - no questions asked, no quarter given. So what the hell do you mean by asking if I calmed down in' 85? Haven't you been paying attention at all? I'm never going to calm down! Hell, I'm gonna go on being exactly who I am for as long as I'm still striding the surface of the friggin 'planet!" "One fine day as I was wasting away in the penthouse in the sky that was called Metropolitan Correctional Center, my keepers rousted me from my reverie and told me I was free to go. That surprised the hell out of me because I had about six months left on my sentence, but, believe it or not, the system had made a mistake and I was released early. I didn't take the time to set them straight, of course, and before long I was back home in Portland, keeping a very low profile. I took a job at a lobster company down on the waterfront and pretty much minded my own business, until one day, months later, the foreman told me there were three shiny - shoe guys in the office who wished to speak to me. I knew running was pointless, so I went and greeted them wearing a big smile and holding my wrists together, ready for the prison bracelets I knew at least one of them had hanging out of his back pocket." Next stop: Danbury Federal Prison, in Danbury, Connecticut, for a few weeks' stay on the way to what would be my more permanent placement. Compared to MCC, Danbury was like a daycare center. During my short stay there, I started a weightlifting program for the inmates, the way I have at other correctional facilities throughout my life. "The most interesting thing about my stay at Danbury was that Reverend Moon, of the Unification Church, was there at the time for income - tax evasion. He was considered to be the messiah by his followers, so he didn't mix too much with the prison population, except for his Korean right - hand man, who we all called Half Moon. I did manage to rattle Reverend Moon's cage now and then, though. I'd say all kinds of wild shit to him and he'd always chuckle like hell. I tried to get him to tell his followers that if they believed in him they should overwhelm the place and free us all, but he told me it was just a matter of time before he took over the world anyway, so why bother? Couldn't help but admire the man's positive attitude." After Danbury, my home for a year was Ray Brook Federal Penitentiary, in upstate New York. Ray Brook was a piece of cake as well, and I like to think the weightlifting program I started there lifted the spirits of my fellow inmates considerably and set many of them on the road to a more satisfying and socially responsible life. One does what they can, whenever and wherever they can, you know? Jake's Auto Sales "When I was released from Ray Brook and returned home, one of the first things I did was open Jake's Auto Sales over in East Deering. The last time we talked I told you that everything about Jake's Auto Sales was legitimate and aboveboard, and that I had the great satisfaction of being able to set many worthy people up with safe and reliable transportation at as low a cost as possible. I've never done anything just for the money, and the used - car business was no exception. I treated everyone who came through my door as if they were friends of mine, and after awhile it got to be quite a status symbol in certain quarters to have that distinctive red - and - green Jake's Auto Sales bumper sticker on your car." Oh, we had a real show going all the way: banners strung across the lot, big American flag on a pole, all that. But the topper was the six - foot - tall mechanical gorilla we had set up in the front passenger seat of a beautiful '68 two - tone green Chevy convertible, waving the people in. The first thing I'd do is rush up to them and get' em excited about having their picture taken sitting in the driver's seat next to the gorilla, and once they were behind the wheel and we got to talking about cars, they were mine. "John was a big, happy - go
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- lucky guy who'd been a stand - out student and athlete in high school and college, then joined the Army when the Korean War broke out and saw a lot of heavy action over there at the start of it all. He spent three years in a North Korean prisoner - of - war camp. He went from 240 pounds, when he was captured, down to 152, when he was liberated. He was all skin and bones and could hardly drag himself around, but he told me the worst part of his ordeal was spending three years listening to his captors tell him that they were winning the war and that he'd never be released. His love of life and his will to survive got him through all the physical and mental torture, though. He told me there were times when he didn't know whether he was dead or alive, but then came the day when the American G. I. s came busting into the camp, and after going through fucking hell for years, it was finally over. He returned home to Marblehead, Massachusetts, where he married his high - school sweetheart and made a huge fortune rehabbing and selling high - end ocean - front properties. "There was also an unsettled, kind of angry and resentful side to John, though. Probably had a lot to do with his war experiences - who knows? - but anyway, one fine day he pretty much dumped the glitzy life he was living down in Marblehead and did a belly - flop onto Portland, Maine, which he'd discovered on a weekend trip and had become intrigued by. We're talking a huge, barrel - chested, brash - talking show - off multi - millionaire looking to make a big impression. The first thing he did was buy the Commercial Street Pub, so he'd have a place to hold court. Then he started acquiring neighboring properties, just so he could stand in his bar and point to a building across the street that he'd recently acquired - you know how that goes." Basically, John was having fun ramming it up society's ass, just like yours truly has been known to do from time to time. He rode around town in a big white Cadillac, wearing an Australian bush hat, with a brightly colored silk scarf around his neck and with a silly - looking blown - up plastic dummy sitting next to him on the passenger's side. He was putting on quite a show even before we paired up, but when we did, look the hell out! "When two loud - talking tough guys meet, they usually either become fight - to - the - death enemies or very tight buddies, and the latter is what ended up happening with John and me. I was in the Commercial Street Pub one night, mouthing off about something or other - surprise, surprise - and he yelled out that if I didn't shut my trap he was gonna take me outside and beat the fuck out of me. Of course, that put a big smile on my face, even though I could see that he obviously knew how to handle himself and weighed well over 250 pounds. At first I pretended to be scared out of my wits, which got a lot of laughs, but then I made a big show of kind of curtseying to him and politely indicating with a sweep of my arm that maybe we should make our way outside to settle the matter." When we got outside I planted myself in front of him and jutted my jaw out and told him that, in consideration of his advanced age, I'd give him the first punch, but that he should turn and run after that, because if he didn't I was going to fuck him up so bad that from then on there would be two friggin 'brain - dead dummies riding around in that car of his. That cracked him up big time, because he wasn't used to being challenged in any way, so after we traded loud insults back and forth for awhile, laughing our guts out all through it, we went back in and spent the night drinking together. Look out, Portland: it's the duo from Hell! "John just loved being seen around town with me, and we spent our time riding around in his car like a couple of brain - dead dummies, dreaming up what crazy - assed thing we were going to do next. Funny how things work out. There I am, fresh out of prison once again, back in Portland and broke as a bastard, riding around town in a new Cadillac with a guy who was easily the most eccentric millionaire in the country. He offered to set me up in any kind of business venture I wanted to get into - the more bizarre, the better." When I told him about my long experience in the eighty - percent - discount used - car business, and how my activities in that area had led to fundamental changes in the State of Maine used - car title law, that did it. Setting up the notorious Jake Sawyer, the all - time Grand Theft Auto King, in the used - car business really rang his chimes. When we spotted that lot with a small office building on it, out on Washington Avenue at the corner of Veranda Street, he was not
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to be denied. "I wanted the name of the enterprise to be East End Auto Sales, because I knew what the reaction of the police and general public would be to a used - car business associated with me in any way, but John would have none of that. His whole motivation, after all, was to shove it up society's ass in any way he could, so he absolutely insisted that the name be Jake's Auto Sales. I had all I could do to talk him out of keeping my last name out of it." Like I said before, the great thing about Jake's Auto Sales was that I was able to set a lot of people up with a nice car who would never have had any kind of ride otherwise. The truth of the matter, though, is that it was John's generosity and goodwill that made it all possible. He didn't give a damn whether or not we made money. His whole thing was comforting the afflicted while confounding the comfortable, or something like that. "The other used - car lots around town didn't like the fact that Jake's Auto Sales was giving people tremendous deals they couldn't come near to matching. They were all saying that I was selling hot cars, but they were dead wrong. We had proper documentation for every car we sold, and the fact of the matter was that a lot of the cars that I sold were ones John bought from the dealers themselves, on the up and up, and delivered to me for resale. For some reason or other, he liked the idea of acquiring a car from a competitor, then selling it to a deserving person for far less than they could have acquired it from the dealer he got it from. The dealers were stymied as hell because, on the one hand, they liked it when John bought one of their cars, but after awhile the buying public knew that if they liked a car they saw on a lot anywhere in town, all they had to do was wait awhile and it would show up on Jake's Auto Sales' lot with a lower sticker price on it. We lost money on many of the cars we sold, but he enjoyed the hell out of upsetting our competitors and making the police wonder what the hell we were up to. I just had to interrupt Jake at this point. I knew he wouldn't remember it, but I was one of the fortunate many who bought a car from Jake's Auto Sales. Jake set me up with an immaculate two - tone green 1979 Plymouth Fury at a time when I needed a good car very badly and didn't have a lot of money to make it happen. I was drawn in by the mechanical gorilla and the rest is history." It was one of the best cars I've ever owned, "I said." You saw me hanging around the lot and came out and started to give me your sales pitch, but when you found out that I was a lot of want and very little money, you stuck with me anyway. I've always appreciated that. "" All in all, life was very good for me around that time period, "Jake continued." Not only was I living out my Robin Hood fantasies through Jake's Auto Sales, but my love life was also going extraordinarily well. After I won the State of Maine Arm Wrestling Championship at USM in 1984, I started working out there on a very serious basis. Oh, did I also tell you that I was the oldest guy in the competition? "" Oh, good, we don't want to miss anything. But I don't think I told you how I met the most beautiful yoga and modern - dance instructor in the universe at the USM gym and ended up having a two - year relationship with her. She was in her late twenties, had danced in the New York City Ballet, and had such an incredible female presence that every man with any testosterone count at all immediately fell in love with her. It's not often that one encounters a graceful ballet dancer with, ah, notable frontage, my friend, so she drew a lot of looks. The way to handle that kind of overcrowded situation, of course, is to be the one who doesn't look. Well, you look, but you don't keep looking. We used to get 'starers' in the fitness studios I managed, and I used to enjoy leading them out the door by the ear. "Anyway, the gorgeous lady could see that I was there to work out in a very serious and professional manner, and she respected that. I saw her glancing over at me a few times, so I went over and asked her what was up. She said she'd been waiting for me to come over, I took that as very good news, and we started sitting under the apple tree together, you know? I can hardly believe it myself, to tell you the truth, but I was true to her all the time we were together. I was still running around town like a madman on steroids, raising all kinds of hell, just the same as ever, but I was no longer having sex with any lifted skirt that happened along
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. "Well, that's not quite the truth. I did kind of stray when I was down in Lowell visiting my Hell's Angels brothers, but that wasn't about the sex, of course. That was just about doing whatever fucking outrageous thing came to my mind to do. Getting it on with a camp follower isn't cheating on your old lady, it's just what you do when you're with your brothers." "OK, good enough, Jake," I said. "But, hey, come to think of it, we haven't talked about what was going on with you and the Hell's Angels. What was up about that?" "That 'Hell's Angels, Nomads Chapter' patch across the top of my back meant more to me than anything else ever has in my entire life. I was a Hell's Angel to the core of my being, and taking off that leather jacket was like I was hacking part of my body off, but I knew what I had to do. To represent myself as a patch - holding member of the Hell's Angels when I wasn't any longer would have been disrespectful of my Hell's Angels brothers, and I'd rather die than have that happen. So I placed my jacket in the safe at the Eddie Griffin Club, with instructions saying that in the event of my demise the jacket was to be mailed to the president of the Oakland, California chapter of the Hell's Angels Motorcycle Club. I even included postage." Taking off my colors didn't stop me from spending time with my Hell's Angels brothers down in Lowell. Having former members show up to party and raise hell for a day or two happened all the time. I did kind of take things to extremes, though. I'd been ramming down the Maine Turnpike on my Harley to Lowell in the early morning hours on a fairly regular basis for a number of years, and had bonded big time with most of the patch - holding members down there, but once in a while I'd get some shit about former members not really being members and hanging around too much, and I knew a fight was about to happen. No big deal - when we ran out of other people to fight, we'd fight each other. That was expected. But one night, around the time period we're talking about today, when I was about fifty years old, I had to take on four or five of my brothers who were twenty or so years younger than I was, and that got a little hairy. "The problem wasn't just that I was not a patch - holding member, it was also that I was a lightening rod for trouble. I'd go to some local bar down there and raise holy hell, maybe bust up the place and knock some heads - usually both - and the next day it would be in the papers that the Hell's Angels were at it again. Of course, I'd never identified myself as a member of the club, but somehow or other the connection was always made." So, one Monday morning as I was on my bike leaving the clubhouse lot, headed back to Portland, Irish Red yelled after me that the whole club was very pissed at me over all the shit I'd been pulling. He said I'd better stop coming around and I was going to get banged up real bad if they ever saw me again. Irish Red was a big jolly guy with a bushy red beard that everybody liked and listened to, so I knew what he'd said to me was real serious business. "That didn't make my ride home very pleasant, of course. Having your heart ripped out of you is not the best way to start your week off. So, what could I do? I returned to Lowell the following night and rapped on Irish Red's door. No answer. A bunch of bikes were parked outside, so I knew some of my other brothers were there. I yelled to them that one of their brothers was outside, so would they please open the fucking door. Still no answer, but then Irish Red came to the door and glared at me. I looked straight into his face and said, 'I'm here for two reasons, man. The first is that I love you, and the second is that nobody fucking tells me where I can and can't go.'" Irish Red just kind of snorted and chuckled, like he admired me for saying what I did, but then he shrugged his shoulders like he didn't have a choice, and told me that if I didn't leave he was going to have Franny come out and fuck me up so bad that I'd be lucky if I could come back even if I wanted to. Franny was six - feet - nine - inches tall, weighed over three - hundred - and - fifty pounds, and made his living wrestling bears at carnivals and county fairs. To make matters worse, he was a Hell's Angels prospect, which meant that he would do anything, and in absolutely any manner, that any patch - holding member told him to do. "Irish Red just grinned and went back inside. Then Franny kind of lumbered through
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the door and started walking towards me with a very concerned look on his face. Franny and I were tight buddies, after all. He was a little slow and I'd befriended him, but he had his orders and we both understood that that was that. When he got to me he just planted himself in front of me and said, 'OK, go ahead, Jake,' in a very calm and resigned voice, like this kind of thing was routine for him. So I reared back and punched him between the eyes as hard as I could. I've knocked guys clear across a barroom floor with that punch, but Franny hardly flinched. He just got kind of a sad look on his face, then threw an uppercut to my chin that was so hard it lifted me off my feet. Then, before I could recover, he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed so hard I knew he fractured two of my ribs - and I knew which two they were, from my knowledge of the structure of the human body. "I thought it was over at that point, because Franny once told me that the fight was over at the carnivals and county fairs when he broke the bear's ribs. Kind of broke their spirit, he said. He knew I wasn't going to give up as fast as the bears did, though, so he threw me down on the ground and jumped onto my stomach, three - hundred - and - fifty pounds of Hell's Angels prospect, ass first, and it felt like my guts were going to come gushing out of my mouth." That's when the real rough stuff started. He sat on me, pounding away at my face and whatever else he could get at, screaming at me to give up. Then, when I yelled, 'Fuck you, the fucking bears were smarter than you are!' he started pulling my hair out by bunches and even grabbed my head and bit my nose and both my ears. Franny was sorry it all had to happen, he truly was, and he knew I was only kidding about the bear stuff, but he was just doing what he had to do, and we both understood that. "He kept asking me over and over, 'You had enough? You had enough?' but I'd keep yelling things like, 'No, you dumb shit! What's the matter, you lazy bastard, you getting tired?' Every man there knew that giving up would mean I could never hang out with my Hell's Angels brothers again. Hell, they'd shoot me on sight if I came back after I gave up in a fight. So, after Franny realized that I'd never give up, no matter what, he started laughing like hell and got off me and threw up his hands and yelled: 'Jake, I love ya, brother! You are one bad - ass brave motherfucker!'" They all just looked around at each other and started chuckling. Here I was, this fifty - year - old desperado, all beat to hell, staggering around, blood and snot all over me, asking for more. They went into a little huddle, then Irish Red looks over at me with a big smile and says, 'Jake, how would you like to attend a New Year's Eve party with us tonight at the Salem chapter's clubhouse?' "Party time! Of course I was all for it! I didn't even go inside and get cleaned up. I just swung my leg onto my bike and yelled, 'Let's go!'" Being invited to go to a party with the club didn't necessarily mean that I was back tight with them, though. They were just having fun with me, and I knew that. I am intimately familiar with Hell's Angels lore, and know that parties in other chapters' clubhouses always entailed fights between the two chapters. The hit of the evening would be for the Lowell chapter to bring along an old beat - up former member like me who was willing to take on anyone, no matter how big and tough they were, at any time, for any reason. "Anyway, that friggin '1986 New Year's Eve party at the Hell's Angels clubhouse in Salem, Massachusetts was the wildest free - for - all drunken bash I'd been to since I partied with my Hell's Angels brothers out in Sausalito and Berkeley twenty years before. Franny bought me at least a dozen stiff drinks, and I'd gulped every handful of pills that was offered to me, so my wounds weren't bothering me too much. Then somewhere in the course of the evening one of my brothers from the Lowell chapter introduced me in a loud voice as the current arm - wrestling champion of Maine. Of course, he knew exactly what he was doing, and right off a guy from the Salem chapter yelled,' Maine? What the fuck is that? A place where old bikers go to die? '" Well, as you might expect, one thing led to another and we got into it pretty shortly after our little exchange. Please keep in mind that I had had vast experience as a fighter by this time. I had always taken a
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great interest in all forms of physical combat, and the young man presented no problem to me. Of course, the Salem chapter wasn't going to leave it at that - not by any means. I had to fight three more of them before everyone there knew for sure, without a doubt, that I might be an old fuck, but I was still one ferocious maniac who was not at all into losing. "What you have to understand here is that when Hell's Angels fight among themselves, there are certain rules that are followed. No eye gouging. No kicking in the balls. No fucking girly scratching - stuff like that. So, I knew that if I kept fighting, I'd survive, and survive I did. I won every fucking fight I was in, come to think of it, except the one with Franny." Let me also say that from the time of those incidents to the present time, I have enjoyed the company of my Hell's Angels brothers, both down in Lowell and when I've hosted some of them up here in Portland, and am made to feel most welcome whenever I visit the Lowell chapter for a day or two of hell - raising. I had clearly illustrated to them, once and for all, that I was a Hell's Angel to the core of my being for as long as I might live. They knew about the suicide charge I led in California, and they saw me be willing to die before I'd give up having the Hell's Angels in my life, and that was enough for them. "It could well also be, my friend, that I took my brothers' concern about my behavior somewhat to heart and started acting a little more civilized. I don't know. My ties to my Hell's Angels brothers got so close over the years, actually, that I moved down to Lowell for awhile in 1989 and lived with my brother George Caruso, who was the president of the Lowell chapter. George owned a small construction company and he bought a house in Lowell that no one else wanted because the former owner was a gambler who'd been shot to death in the backyard. George didn't give a shit about that either way, of course, but I kind of liked the idea myself." The backyard was very large, and there was a rumor that the gambler had buried a big bag of money in it somewhere. I turned George on to the idea of locating it. We started by using a metal detector and digging little holes all over the place, but when all we came up with was bottle caps, George brought in a front - end loader, and within a day or two there were deep cavernous holes all around the backyard. When we didn't find what we were after there, we dug up the front lawn, too. George and I and a few of our other Hell's Angels brothers spent a hell of a lot of time sifting through all that dirt, but we never did find that big bag of money. The adventure of it all was fun while it lasted, though. "Maybe I was going through some kind of change of life. Around the time I came back to Portland after living down in Lowell for awhile, I began to feel the cumulative effect of all the tension I'd created in my life and I just needed to get away from all the bullshit. The wonderful woman I told you about earlier had left me because she just couldn't take my right - straight - out wild and crazy ways anymore, and I was getting pretty tired of the turmoil that had existed around me over the years. I needed some space to get my head straight, so I decided to sell all my possessions, except my custom - made - for - speed Harley, and head out for a year's mountaintop retreat in good ol 'Ward, Colorado, where I'd hid out about a dozen years earlier, right before going to Lewisburg Penitentiary." After gunning it across the country on my Harley in record time - damn, I covered more than 2, 000 miles in less than 48 hours - I arrived at the trail at the base of the mountain that led up to Ward. At that point I decided what I really needed was complete solitude, so I bought an old school bus for next to nothing and somehow got it to the top of a two - mile - high mountain across the way from Ward. I parked the bus in a beautiful little pine grove there, where it was protected from the wind, and lived in it all alone for almost four years. "" What? "I said, throwing down my pen and looking over at him in disbelief." Jake, did you just say you lived like a hermit on a mountaintop in Colorado for four years? "" As I said, my original intent was to spend a year in Ward, "he continued, still chuckling to himself," but once I got out there I decided to live apart from civilization altogether. I got accustomed to the peace and restfulness I was experiencing living in that old school bus all alone, and I just couldn't bring myself to leave after the year was up. Part of that was due to the break
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I was getting from the excitement and danger I'd always invited into my life, and part of it was due to the taste for being alone that I'd developed during my various times in prison. Please keep in mind, my friend, that at that point I had spent almost ten years of my life, in total, in one lock - up or another, and at least three years of that time had been spent in solitary confinement. That's a lot of time spent in your own company. "I built a fourteen - foot - by - twenty - foot wood shed attached to the back of the bus, and I had my domain. It wasn't as if I was entirely alone, though - not by any means. I took in every living creature that happened by, and before long I had about a half - dozen wild dogs, assorted raccoons, and even an eagle with a broken wing as companions. I've never had better friends in my life, really. The truth is that I was as dependent on them as they were on me." The solitude I experienced camping out on that mountaintop was the most restful and enriching period of my life, but I don't I want to give you the impression that I was entirely without human company. Over the course of the four years I ventured down the mountain on a number of occasions to go over and visit my neighbors in Ward, and we enjoyed many festive times together. I obviously couldn't be that close to my Hell's Angels brothers in Oakland and not make the trip now and then, and I also made the trip across country a few times to visit my Hell's Angels buddies in Lowell and my friends up in Portland. "'Where ya been, Jake?' my friends all said to me. Well, there are some questions you just can't answer in a way that people understand, so you just don't try, you know?" Oh, and it wasn't as if I had no social contact at my campsite, either. I actually had a couple of visitors from Portland. One of them was a beautiful blond former girlfriend of mine who showed up in Ward one summer day looking for me. My friends there told her what was up with me and accompanied her up to my encampment. She wanted so much to look good upon her arrival that she walked the two miles up the mountain in the bright shiny green dress and high heels she'd arrived in Ward wearing. She did look good, too, believe me. When she arrived it was as if a radiant goddess had appeared out of the sun. "We had some wonderful days: the fine lady, my dog Shawn, and me. I do have to mention Shawn here. He was a beautiful pure white Pyrenees who'd been mistreated and abandoned on the mountain. When I first took him in he was very fearful of me, but as time went on we became great company for each other, and I'll never forget my old friend." My social activities also included accompanying mountain climbers up to tall peaks now and then, and that was something for a cloistered monk like me to look forward to. The picture I've provided to you is one such group, and I remember having a very good time with them. I was about thirty years older than any of them were, and they probably thought I was daft. All I wore on my feet was a cheap pair of sandals, and halfway up the mountain I veered off to rougher terrain and told them I'd see them at the top. They all said I wouldn't make it, and when I arrived up there only ten minutes after they did, they were amazed. Damn, except for the thin air, I would've beaten them. "" Yes, of course, "I said." Steve's the publisher of The Café Review and a former poet laureate of Portland. He told me he grew up with you in South Portland. "" Right! Well, Steve had come to Colorado for a poetry festival that was being held in Boulder, and he decided to visit me while he was there. We got to talking about the festival, and when he mentioned that Allen Ginsberg would be there I got all excited and decided to go along with him to the festival. "You remember that I met Allen at Sonny Barger's house way back in 1966, when he and Neal Cassady visited Sonny for the purpose of explaining to him that the hippies marching in the streets of Berkeley loved America as much as the Hell's Angels did, and were just being patriotic by protesting the war in Vietnam. Sonny and the rest of us didn't completely buy that particular line at the time, but as time went on we began to see the light, and in the end the Hell's Angels and the hippies bonded big time. You will also remember that I encountered Allen again when I got out of San Quentin a few years after that and attended a hippie wedding in a field somewhere in New Mexico on my way across the country back to Portland, so I was excited to meet up with my ol 'buddy Allen again." That got a big laugh out of everybody, especially Allen
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, and when it came time for the poetry reading he insisted that I get up and do something. I'm not one to shrink away from the limelight, of course, so I was happy to oblige. I can still recite the poem I made up for them if you'd like to hear it, sir. "The Blockbuster" OK, Jake, here we are, "I said." We've got you down off the mountain, so it's time to let loose with the big story you've been holding onto. Let's have it, sir, if you're ready. "" You have to understand that after the feds sent me to Lewisburg to have me killed on the yard as a rat, and that didn't happen, they became obsessed with getting the name of the guy I'd sold the pot to out of me, to the point where they had the warden physically torture me. The warden's name was Charlie Fenton, and he was one ruthless motherfucker. Ol 'Charlie was well aware that he had to proceed with extreme caution when it came to torturing the inmates under his charge, but he had a self - developed technique that had worked admirably for him with a number of other people, so he thought he'd give it a go with me. "Doesn't seem like much of a deal to someone who hasn't experienced it, but what the righteous warden did was have four guards hold me down while he beat the bottoms of my feet with a yardstick. Never have I come close to experiencing such pain in my life. The bottoms of your feet are super - sensitive and full of nerves that have a tendency to deliver excruciating pain all throughout your body. Believe me, every time good ol' Charlie smiled and took a whack, I was turned into a world of hurt. I never knew that getting whacked on the bottom of your feet can make you feel like your head is going to explode, you know?" What you also have to understand here is that I wasn't even particularly close to the individual I was refusing to rat on. Truthfully, I didn't even care what happened to him - I just knew I wasn't gonna rat on anyone, no matter what. After each whack, Fenton would ask me for the name of the guy I sold the pot to, and I'd give him the name of a movie star or some politician, and he'd get more and more pissed off, especially when the guards who were holding me down started giggling. After awhile, though, I made Fenton think I absolutely couldn't take the torture anymore and was ready to cooperate. "'OK, Jake,' he said," I'm not enjoying this any more than you are. Just give me his name and we'll get you out of here and you'll get deluxe treatment all the rest of the time you're with us. Might even get you paroled a lot sooner than you might've thought. So, just give me his name and we'll all be happy. '"That sent him over the edge, of course, and he went wild with his friggin' yardstick, but at that point he knew no amount of physical torture was going to work with me, and he had the guards drag me off and throw me into solitary. While I was locked away, though, a couple of the guards who'd held me down were impressed by what they'd witnessed and spread the story I have just related to you throughout the prison population. When I got out I found that I was now held in even higher esteem than I'd been before, especially in the eyes of the Mafia bosses, because they were always looking for guys who would be loyal no matter what." When I played bocce with my Italian friends now, they tended to be more at ease around me, and we became closer and closer. Bocce is a game that tends to bond people. There's no hurry or pressure about it, and there's free and easy conversation throughout the game. Once in a while, when we were playing, I could see warning glances between them when the talk got too close to certain subjects, though, and they'd all clam up. But after the incident with the warden I didn't see that kind of thing anymore. "The godfather of the Mafia bosses at Lewisburg was Anthony Provenzano, who was called Tony Pro. Tony had been the vice - president of the New Jersey Teamsters Union, and had been very close to both Richard Nixon and Jimmy Hoffa over the years. A couple of weeks after Nixon resigned, he made his first public appearance playing golf with Tony - that's how close they were. Tony was always making little jokes about how Mafia money got passed to Nixon, even while he was in office, but Richard Nixon's desecration of his high office is not what this story is about, sir." What I have to say concerns Tony's other little buddy, Jimmy Hoffa. Tony Pro has always been the FBI's primary suspect in Hoffa's disappearance, and I'm here to tell you that they are definitely on the right track. The word among the Mafia dons in the prison was that Hoffa's
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elimination occurred because he insisted on reassuming the presidency of the Teamsters after he got out of prison, and the Mafia preferred Frank Fitzsimmons in the position. Fitzsimmons was in the Mafia's pocket one - hundred percent, and Hoffa was in only seventy - five percent, so there you go. "What brought up the subject of Jimmy Hoffa was when I mentioned to Tony that I'd spent the year before I was sent to Lewisburg hiding out in Ward, Colorado," Jake continued. "Right away, Tony says, 'Hey, that's in the Rocky Mountains.' He was all excited, because Tony wasn't a guy anyone would expect to know that kind of thing." 'Sure!' he said. 'It was Neverland, Colorado! It's a place full of old gold mines, and my guys dumped the plaid sleeping bag with Jimmy in it in one of them. They're never gonna find him there!' Tony yelled, laughing his head off. He was pleased as hell with himself over that line. I almost think that's why he told me the story, actually - so he could use it. I couldn't bring myself to tell Tony, though, that the name of the town is Nederland, not Neverland. Nederland is about a dozen miles or so away from Ward, and I used to go there to lift weights with a guy who lived there. "Yeah," I said, "we should just about wrap things up in the next issue. For that epilogue, we'll bring things up to the present, talk some about what your life is like these days, and get some people from around town to tell a tale or two about you. Since we started this little project, I've had a bunch of them come up to me and tell me some amazing stories about you. Maybe I'll tell you some of them the next time we talk and you can tell me if there's any truth to them, OK?" "Always happy to straighten out the record, my friend," Jake said, getting up from his chair and coming across the room to shake my hand. "We sure as hell don't need anybody's fantasy memories to add to things. My life has been interesting and eventful enough just as it actually happened, know what I mean?"
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My apologies for the strong language but I am not happy!! I had to plough the driveway twice on Saturday and the second time is was the wet heavy snow. The weather man forecast light snow / flurries of up to 4cm. Light snow my behind, we must have got another six inches of the bloody stuff. It did stop in the early afternoon and did get above freezing, so melted a lot on the decks, but even so. Hopefully this is the last snow storm for this winter (as I touch wood when I say that), however I don't think so, March can be a nasty month; and remember that saying: My dear friend Leiani has decided to start a blog. She has a great family and I love the way she writes. Please pop by to say hello and welcome her to blogland, here is the link to her blog. It's the last day of February, did you remember to put your money in your Daily Savings Pot? I have $75 in my pot...... how I have no idea, but I do. If you're not sure what I am talking about check out this link Hide your credit cards. Take your credit cards and put them in a safe place in your home, not in your wallet where it's easy to spend them. If you argue that you need it for "emergencies," just be sure to keep a small amount of cash hidden in your wallet for these emergencies. Don't keep plastic on you until you have the willpower to not use it even when you're sorely tempted. Friday was one of those days. Woke up with a headache, always a bad sign. It had snowed over night and was still snowing. We probably only got around 6 inches, but in places on our driveway it had blown and settled so it was well over knee high. It was a miracle that dh got his pickup out of the driveway. When I went outside I couldn't even see his tire marks on the driveway as more snow had laid. Lets just say my poor old snow blower struggled and I had to have it as high as possible. It was the worst I had seen it this winter. So by the time I had cleared out the driveway and brought all the logs in and cleaned off the decks I was just plain pooped. I had to hoover up in our bedroom and hoover up the flies and lady bugs {{SIGH}} Where they come from I do not know. We got the oil tank filled for the heating and we had only used half a tank this month and it wasn't as expensive as prior months, at around $370. The forecast is looking as though its only going to get warmer, so that's also good. So I guess in the scheme of things, things could be worse........ I live on a rural route, with a mail box at the end of my driveway. I was told if I put my flag up on my mailbox and put my outgoing mail in there, the mail lady will pick it up. Never had a problem with this with Eva. So four Fridays ago I put mail in there first thing in the morning, put my flag up, it wasn't picked up until Monday. Never mind, it's a one off right? Following Friday did the same thing, it wasn't picked up. So I call in at my local post office and say, was our mail lady working today, and they say yes she was. So on Thursday, I have outgoing mail. Figure I should be safe as it's Thursday and I generally get mail delivery on a Thursday. So put my mail in the box at 8am, well before she delivers, put my flag up and think that will be good!! Now I was talking to Eva about all of this and she was saying, our house and my neighbours house north of us, is slightly out of the way, so it's easier to miss us, than go out of the way. As I told the supervisor, I am used to getting mail more or less every day. Now I am down to four days a week, I am not impressed. Have to say neither was she........ I got little to nothing done on Thursday, thanks to Swagbucks........ it was their 2nd birthday and there was promise of big bucks all day, but you had to stay close to the computer all day. I did get the first coat of varnish on one side of the closet doors. Then I did some more paper piecing and some other bits and bobs. I suppose with it snowing all day it was an excuse to rest up!! Today's photos looks as though there is no sky........ well you can't see it for the snow coming down. We're forecast for another 4 inches or so in the next 24 hours, and at the rate it is snowing, I don't doubt that prediction!! Hopefully it's a better day where you are....... I have joined Facebook. No idea
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why I did, as I have no clue what so ever with what I am doing. I figured I could maybe see photos of the nieces and nephews in Britain and keep up with what they are up too. Honestly though I don't see the point of it all? I would rather send an email, but I guess people would prefer using Facebook? I am assuming there is a Facebook for Dummies page where it explains what to do? I hope so, as I can see me spending a bit of time on that page. So I guess one thing I am asking you today, are any of you Facebook users? What are the do's and don 'ts. What is the best thing about Facebook, and what is the worst thing about Facebook? One thing I don't talk about on my blog is politics and religion. What you believe in regarding those two subjects is your business and has nothing to do with me. However this post is about religion, well sort of. So I have started going to church on a Sunday in a nearby village and I love it. The Reverend is really nice and I enjoy his sermons. The first week his sermon was good and I thought yep I agree with what he was saying and something he said hit home with me (can't remember what now) and that was good. So this last week or two the weather has got a little warmer and because of that the cluster flies and the ladybugs have been out and about in the house again. I have been cursing them up and down and been vacuuming them up whenever I see them. So I go to church on Sunday and sit down. I look at the stained glass windows and lo and behold there are cluster flies on the windows. So I am feeling slightly better, thinking well we're not the only ones with these rotten flies. The Reverend starts his sermon and talks about Lent and how Jesus went into the desert for 40 days and 40 nights. He then went on to say about how one of his Clergy friends when in Israel had decided to spend the day in the desert to see if he could get a taste of what Jesus went through. So this friend, said he discovered how silent it was, how hot it was, and how many flies there were, and that Satan had used this things to try and break down Jesus and himself. At this point my ears pricked up, with the flies comment. I have been cursing these flies up and down these past couple of weeks and here is the Reverend talking about those same rotten flies. I thought wow that is so ironic and so freaky!! Then on yesterday's post I posted that joke about the Diary of a Snow Shoveler. I prepared that post on Monday evening, and it posted as normal at 1am our time on Tuesday morning. Meanwhile Tracey emailed me that same joke in between hands...... freaky or what!! A minister told his congregation, "Next week I plan to preach about the sin of lying. To help you understand my sermon, I want you all to read Mark 17." The following Sunday, as he prepared to deliver his sermon, the minister asked for a show of hands. He wanted to know how many had read Mark 17. Every hand went up. The minister smiled and said, "Mark has only sixteen chapters. I will now proceed with my sermon on the sin of lying." Did you remember to put your money in your Daily Savings Pot today? Today's Money Saving Tip: Reevaluate the stuff in the rooms in your house. Go into a room and go through every single item in it. Do you really need that item? Are you happy that it's there, or would you be just fine if it were not? If you can find stuff to get rid of, get rid of it - it just creates clutter and it might have some value to others. You also improve the perceived value of your house - and you're likely to get a lot of cleaning done in the process. It's a frugal win - win - win. Another week, therefore another column from me for the Eden Valley Messenger I would love it if you had an extra minute to pop by and have a read and leave a comment. If you know of anyone else who may be interested forward it onto them as well please? A couple of other bloggers were kind enough to mention me and my column on their blogs this past week, Expat Mum and Smitten By Britain, so a big thank you to them for that!! If you have another couple of minutes to spare, pop over to their blogs and say hello, they would love that. I just finished this table runner, it's around 25 inches by 12 inches. It's dusty pink, brown and cream. All the hexagons are hand sewn and hand sewn on the table runner. Below is the material for my next project. As with the table runner, I have no idea what I am going to make yet. I will figure it out as I go along. 6: 00 PM. It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails
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and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses Print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow! We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a more lovely place in the Whole World? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had. Shoveled for the first time in years and felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life. The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment. My neighbor tells me not to worry, we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbor. Snow lovely snow! 8 "last night. The temperature dropped to - 20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and 2 extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. Ice storm this morning. Fell on my butt on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like heck. The wife laughed for one hour, which I think was very cruel. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her. God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room. Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of the damn stuff last night. More shoveling. Took all day. Darn snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying. Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more inches of the white crap fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel and then I had to poop. By the time I got undressed, pooped and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel. Tried to hire Bob who has a plow on his truck for the rest of the winter; but he says he's too busy. I think the jerk is lying. Only 2 "of snow today. And it warmed up to 0. The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What is she nuts!!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did but I think she's lying. 6". Snow packed so hard by snowplow, I broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the man who drives that snowplow I'll drag him through the snow by his nose and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling and then he comes down the street at 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over where I've just been! Merry - bleeping - Christmas! 20 more inches of the slop tonight. Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she's a fricking idiot. If I have to watch "It's A Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to stuff her into the microwave. 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I am? Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver he is now suing me for a million dollars not only the beating I gave him but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up where the sun don't shine. The wife went home to her mother. 9 "predicted. Is less better? Perhaps it was due to the booming economy, perhaps" keeping up with the Joneses ", maybe its ego, but for many of us, we often seem to insist on the biggest and the best, no matter what the cost. When a $15, 000 new car may be more than acceptable, we stretch the seams of our
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budget to afford a $25, 000 vehicle. We buy $25 shirts with $35 designer labels attached. We opt for the $100 dinner at the trendy restaurant when a $20 meal would have been just as delicious. Think about where you are spending the family money - - and how - - to see if there couldn't be savings found with minor changes in habits. What do you think is wrong with poor old Molly? Well seeing the bath towels there should give you a hint. I had to haul her upstairs for a shower and she knows that's what's going to happen. She won't go upstairs with me when I have my dressing gown on, as she knows what's going to happen, so I have to carry her upstairs! What you don't see from that photo is how she is shaking. Its a pitiful sight, it truly is, and it wouldn't be so bad, but it's all over in 15 minutes at the most. I don't know, I have tried reasoning with her, that it's for her own good, as the shampoo I use eases the itchiness on her skin, but that doesn't make her feel any better!!! I can't win. While I was outside I took a random photo of a Chickadee at the bird feeder. Dh worked Sunday morning. After church I went to get my grocery shopping, so we both arrived in the house within minutes of one another. After a late lunch dh went to do some electrical in our bedroom, while I sat and sewed. We went to the National Home Show in Toronto on Saturday. We had VIP tickets so for once we went through the "Dream Home" It was very, very modern, and not my cup of tea at all. However there were a few things that we liked. I have to say we were disappointed this year with what was exactly on show. We have also clicked that before we make enquiries about anything we have to make sure they are willing to service our area where we live. It takes us a good hour outside of rush hour to get to downtown Toronto, probably an hour and a half in rush hour. So a lot of people won't even consider coming out to our area. Food is so expensive at these shows that we decided to have a late lunch and we had left the show by 1: 30pm. So we headed into Brampton, and had fish and chips at the Heritage Restaurant. They have the best fish and chips around our area. They even had knitted tea cosies for their tea pots ever so cute, the same as this one. They have a lunch time special of haddock and chips for $5. 95 and you get a plate full. We shared a dish of mushy peas, so guess we'll be "gassy" tonight... LOL We also lucked out today, as Home Depot were having a 20% sale on all their interior doors, so we picked up the four closet doors. They should have been $89 each, we paid $71. 20 each, so the savings nearly paid for one door. We could have done without getting these at this moment, but couldn't turn down that savings. Well she likes her new food. I have her down to 1 / 2 steroid pill per day, she's chewing her paws, but nothing too drastic. I am picking up some of this Holistic Blend Organic Bee Pollen now this is supposed to help with the airborne allergens, who knows, it's worth a shot. I need to get it into her system six weeks before the grasses and trees start growing again, so this will be the right time to start this. At this point I am willing to try most things. As of Friday I can see patches of grass on The Acreage, finally. The sun shone all day on Friday, so melted a lot of snow. Which in turn let me see where all the dog poop was. Considering Molly is a small dog, she poops a lot!! I also dug out the end of the driveway where the snow had blown over. It must have been knee high again in a couple of places. Right beside the road though it's a mud bath, so that will be the next thing I will be complaining about, all the mud. I finished the staining on Thursday and as I predicted I had the headache from hell on Friday and still have it. That stain kills me, but its still much too cold to have the windows and doors open. However on a more positive note, with the wind chill we are now only in the minus 8oC to 10oC, which is balmy hot!! Now with having all this sun on Friday, those new blinds of ours came in handy. Oh and that isn't a dead dog, that is Molly sound asleep on her ottoman!! She was snoring again, I think that dog needs her adenoids out!! An exciting photo of the close up of the blinds!! If you enlarge the photo you can still see the snow. The closet situation is on a go slow. Dh is working six days a week at the moment, and like with any job we start
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in this house we have ran into problems. This time its the electrical. One of the plugs / sockets was to move. When dh had a look in it, the guy had wired it wrong, and to cut a long story short that is only of interest if you are electrically minded, which I'm not, dh had to rewire it and pull new wires in, or something like that, and that involved taking up part of the attic floor. I am actually writing this as it saves me telling my dad when I talk to him next. Then he has to move the telephone jack again not a five minute job, and on and on it goes.......... I have to say it a bloody miracle that neither me nor dh have been shocked with these plugs in this house, dh is rewiring as and when he gets the time. He's putting in a new electrical panel this summer, so he says. As I have said before I have little to no interest in all of this, as I am of the opinion why do something yourself when you have someone else (dh) who can do things a heck of a lot faster and better than I can; that groaning and whining is my dad........ I am so going to get a lecture next time he talks to me..... LOL When I open my mouth to speak, it's obvious I wasn't born in Canada; same with my dh and my dad. When the kids start talking they are Canadian through and through. The only way you would know they were British is by some of the words they use. However there are certain Canadian expressions I prefer to use though rather than the British versions; and one of them is "gas or gassy." I personally find the word "FART" not a pleasant word. No idea why, just don't like using that word However for me being gassy can also mean I will burp as well. I am especially gassy after I have had a carbonated drink like Cola. Carbonated drinks make me burp something rotten, so I rarely drink them. Again it's not ladylike to be able to burp the full alphabet after drinking a can of pop, now is it!! I also like to say I am going to the bathroom rather than going to the toilet. I think if you say bathroom, it sorts of give's the whole situation an air of mystery as to what you are exactly going to do. Whereas if you're going to the toilet, well you're using the toilet... Finally one other Canadian custom we have embraced is taking your shoes off when you go into a house. It always horrifies me now when people walk into a house with their dirty great shoes on and walk all over your clean carpet? Now in our case it doesn't matter as we have wood floors which are generally freezing cold. However any house we visit that has a carpet on the floor, we immediately take off our shoes, unless the place looks dirty.......... Finally, something I find funny. Dd works for an international company and often they have conference calls with people around the world. For some reason whomever they deal with in Britain must have a stronger accent that all dd co - workers have trouble understanding. Meanwhile dd is chit chatting away to him no problem, while the other's sit there with a puzzled expression!! She translates as the meeting progresses!! A man was driving along the highway, and saw a rabbit hoping across the middle of the road. He swerved to avoid hitting the rabbit, but unfortunately the rabbit jumped in front of the car and was hit. The driver, being a sensitive man as well as an animal lover, pulled over to the side of the road and got out to see what had become of the rabbit. The woman told the man not to worry. She knew what to do. She went to her car trunk and pulled out a spray can. She walked over to the limp, dead rabbit, and sprayed the contents of the can onto the rabbit. The man was astonished. He couldn't figure out what substance could be in the woman's spray can! He ran over to the woman and demanded, "What was your spray can? What did you spray onto that rabbit?" Give up expensive habits, like cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs. Those habits cause money to flow away from you with nothing in return. Call up your fortitude and work hard to kick the habits and you'll find that money staying in your pocket instead of burning up and floating away. I went to the trim store on Wednesday and picked up the door trim along with the corner blocks and the plinth's. As they were all unstained I set too staining them all. There are three more door trim pieces out of the photo. I have to stain them all again on Thursday, so that dh can put them up on the weekend. Poor Molly has now hurt her back leg, on what I have no idea. I had to carry her upstairs as she can't manage them. Although she is managing to hobble
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up the basement stairs? Those voles and mice outside the patio doors are too big a temptation for her....... LOL It must be bad as she is not attempting to get on the ottoman, the couch or the chair!! She is managing the three steps on and off the deck and can walk down the stairs as normal. So I will keep an eye on her and see how things go. Then poor dh went and hurt his back on Sunday morning. He was walking out to his truck to go to work, by the time he got into the truck he was in agony. His laptop bag is so heavy, it's full of "stuff" and he must have carried it wrong. It's been a long time since he has been in so much pain with his back. Backs are funny things though, I first pulled mine out, by bending over to put some clothes in ds chest of drawers. One minute I was standing, the next thing I am on my knees in sheer agony. He is talking about going to the chiropractor to has his back cracked, he goes once a month anyhow. Hell will freeze over before I let a chirpractor touch my back!! Here is a link to my column on the Eden Valley Messenger. As always please pop by and have a read of it. I am talking about how our house disguises itself as a "Wildlife Hotel" on the side. If you know of anyone else who may be interested in it please forward it onto them. The Eden Valley is a small area of Britain, which is overlooked, so the more people we tell about it the better!! It was Shrove / Pancake Tuesday on Tuesday and we were supposed to go to the local fire hall for a pancake supper. However I wasn't feeling 100% and dh's back was still sore. So I made our own pancake supper: Shop with a list and then STICK TO THE LIST! This one tip alone can save you a lot!! Impulse purchases tend to be expensive as well as unnecessary. Posted by I was busy finishing of my table topper on Monday. All the hexagons are hand sewn together, then appliqued on top of the material. I machine quilted it to finish it off. (click on the photos for a larger photo) I also finished a small tablemat, it's approx. 8 inches accross. I hoped to get maybe $10 for this. This is all hand sewn and has a heavy duty interfacing between the fabric layers........ Looking for a sewing or quilting pattern? Check the internet there are a lot of free patterns online; or go to the library and check out a book on sewing or quilting. Same with knitting patterns look online. When we stripped out the attic last summer we saved any woodwork that may be of use in the rest of the house. There was a lot of baseboard in the attic, but not all the way around the attic, so we knew we couldn't use the original baseboard up there are again. Meanwhile we needed some more baseboard for the closet we are building and so we pulled some from our stockpile. A lot of the baseboard was damaged, so we can only use bits of it. As you can see on the bottom of the photo, that piece has quite a bit of damage on it, so I only stripped what we can use. You can see some of the original stain / varnish on the right hand side. I have stained it English Chestnut to match the rest of the wood. It's family day here in Ontario. Bit of a strange holiday if you ask me, because half the people don't get the day off. Dh is working, as the factory where he is contracted out too don't get it as they already get "X" amount of paid days off that's allowed??? Future son - in - law works for the Federal Government and as this is a Provincial Government holiday they don't get it. Ds, he's working, no idea why as he's a chartered accountant for a private firm. I'm guessing that they're super busy and that's why. I actually know they're super busy, but don't know the reason for them not getting the day off. Dd is off and is going shopping..... she is her mother's daughter. And me........ well as one day seems to be like another I guess I won't be celebrating family day either. Although dd did ask me to go shopping with her, but as I have no money I hate going shopping when I have no money, plus I have a lot to do this week!! It was my classic sherry trifle recipe. Cake, broken up in the bottom of the dish. Drizzle sherry over the cake and let it soak in. Make a jello / jelly and pour over the top of the cake. Make a custard, let it cool and put that on top of the jello layer when it has set. Whip up some cream and put that on top of the custard, put sprinkles on the top, and then dig in!!!
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!! Want to retire to a remote island at the age of 55? Place some pictures of exotic beaches on your refrigerator or bathroom mirror. The picture will stick out like a sore thumb and constantly remind you of what you are saving for. This tactic can work for almost any of your financial goals including cars, homes, college education, bags full of cash, etc. I got this bunch of flowers a couple of weeks ago from dh, and they are still going strong. Thought I'd feature a couple more photos of them on this cold snowy morning. Happy Valentine's Day. We're not big on Valentine's Day in this house. I will give dh a card but that's about it, and he will probably give me the same. He has to work today, but will hopefully be home by mid - afternoon. We had a busy day on Saturday. Dh worked on putting the baseboard up in the closet. Bit more complicated than normal as he had to join pieces and deal with other issues. I did my usual morning chores, of doing the ironing, cleaning out the fire, bringing in the logs, picking up the poop and feeding the birdies. Below are a couple of photos of Northern Cardinals. The first one is a male and female pair. I had ordered the closet organizer through the week, so we had to pick that up. We also wanted to go to Lowes to check out a couple of things. Glad we did as we were able to pick up some cordless Levolor cellular shades like these that they custom cut to our sizes for only $58 a window. There was also 15% off them as well. I also got three spray cans of paint that covers rust, regularly $9 a can for just over $2 a can, in Hunter Green. Not 100% sure what I will use that for, but I have a couple of projects in mind. At that price you can't go wrong. When in a store, always check out the clearance section, as you never know what you may find!!! Also I am finding our hardware stores are carrying more and more blinds that they can custom cut to fit your windows at much cheaper prices than custom ordered blinds. It's worth checking them out!!! Make sure you get an employee that can use the cutting machines properly though, as it easy for them to make a mess of the cutting. We originally bought blinds from Home Depot, and they made a mess of the blinds, she didn't make a straight cut and they were crooked, and we had to return them!!! I spoke with Karine's mother on Friday, as she also has a dog with allergies, and I have to say what she had to say made sense and left me feeling a bit better. I also called the pet store and found another food for Molly that doesn't have any ingredients in it that she is allergic too, it's Dick Van Patten's Venison and Sweet Potato. This also has no fish oil in it, which a lot of foods do have. Even the Omega 3 oil supplement we have been giving her has fish oil in it, so we have had to stop that. The new food has flaxseed in it which is a good alternative to the Omega 3 oil. So I feel a little better knowing I will probably have her food allergies under control in time. The food allergies are the easier of the two things to take control of. The environmental allergies are another kettle of fish though, and with Molly's being so severe I am not sure what is going to happen there. As I have said before she is on Vanectyl - P which is a steroid / antihistamine. As with any steroid it is not good for humans or animals, so the aim is to get her off those as soon as possible. So we may try a holistic / natural alternative for the environmental allergies. Any suggestions would be appreciated here. If none of these work, we are considering putting her up for adoption. That is a last resort, and one we don't want to do, but at the end of the day if ATOPICA is the only thing that will give her a pain free life, then it's something we will have to do. I want to make it clear we love Molly to death and she is a great dog, but we honestly cannot afford the $100 + a month it is going to cost us keeping her on the medication. Also having to get up before 6am each and every single day as she needs to go out for a pee, no matter how late we keep her up is getting tiring for me. That is a side effect of the steroids, she has to pee a lot. • Help your pet practice good hygiene. Grooming and trimming nails regularly helps prevent many types of infection. Brush your pet's teeth at least three times a week to avoid tooth decay and gum disease, which can spread to other parts of the body. • Keep pets at an ideal weight and make sure they get plenty of exercise. Obesity leads to a host of orthopedic problems as well as diabetes, heart disease and other medical disorders. Find a high - quality diet that
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your pet likes and stick with it. If you must switch, do so gradually to avoid stomach upset. • Keep your pet current on vaccines and parasite preventives. Don't wait until your pet is infested or ill. Contact your local animal - control organization to see if it offers low - cost vaccines, including shots for rabies. • Spay or neuter your pet early. You'll save on vet bills for serious medical conditions such as breast, uterine and testicular cancer. You'll also greatly reduce the risk that your pet will be hit by a car or injured in a fight, since animals "on the prowl" are prone to wandering and aggression. • Keep cats indoors. The average life expectancy of a cat that goes outside is only three to five years, compared to more than 12 years for indoor cats. I was reading on another site I go on about what someone was getting for Valentine's Day. She is getting a HANDGUN and a bunch of flowers. I had to read the post twice to make sure I was reading it correctly. Thought I'd mention this as if you're a bit stuck on what you want for Valentine's Day, a handgun would be something different!! This is someone in the States where owning a gun is a pretty common thing. Lesson 1: A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower, when the doorbell rings. The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next - door neighbor. Before she says a word, Bob says, 'I'll give you $800 to drop that towel.' After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands * * * * * in front of Bob, after a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 and leaves. The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs.. When she gets to the bathroom, her husband asks, 'Who was that?' 'It was Bob the next door neighbor,' she replies. Lesson 2: A priest offered a Nun a lift.. She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg. The priest nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg. The nun said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?' The priest removed his hand But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again. The nun once again said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?' The priest apologized 'Sorry sister but the flesh is weak.' Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily and went on her way. On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129. It said, 'Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory..' Moral of the story: Lesson 3: A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp. They rub it and a Genie comes out. The Genie says, 'I'll give each of you just one wish.' 'Me first! Me first!' says the admin clerk. 'I want to be in the Bahamas, driving a speedboat, without a care in the world.' Puff! She's gone. 'Me next! Me next!' says the sales rep. 'I want to be in Hawaii, relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas and the love of my life.' Puff! He's gone. 'OK, you're up,' the Genie says to the manager.. The manager says, 'I want those two back in the office after lunch.' Moral of the story: Always let your boss have the first say. Lesson 4 An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing. A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, 'Can I also sit like you and do nothing?' The eagle answered: 'Sure, why not.' So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it. Moral of the story: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up. Lesson 5 A turkey was chatting with a bull. 'I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree' sighed the turkey, 'but I haven't got the energy.' 'Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?' replied the bull. They're packed with nutrients. 'The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch. Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree. He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree. Moral of the story: While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him. As the frozen
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bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy. A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate.. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him. Morals of the story: (1) Not everyone who dumps on you is your enemy. (2) Not everyone who gets you out of doo doo is your friend. (3) And when you're in deep doo doo, it's best to keep your mouth shut! MAKE A SPECIAL MEAL If you know your loved one, you will more than likely know what their favorite food is. If not, take some time to find out what he or she likes to eat. Your loved one will feel loved just knowing that you know even the little things about them. to say it cost me $39. 25 for all the postage for this years Christmas cards........ so far!! I am hoping it won't be anymore. I spent...
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Hello! I thought I would try my hand at Journaling, can't say I have done this since I was a young girl... My life is so crazy sometimes that I hope you can keep up, because sometimes I have a really hard time doing that myself! (grinning) Everyday is certainly challenging to say the least. But whose life isn't? Nobody ever promised me "A Rose Garden!" How about you? I am going to use this Journal to talk about My Life and many of the hills and valleys I have struggled climbing throughout my life. In hopes it will help another to know you are not alone, even though it sure feels it doesn't it? Yes, I know that feeling too well! Sure wish I had this computer years ago, I believe I would have become a Famous Writer of many books... Well, you never know! (grinning and smiling) Instead, I have kept everything inside, not really wanting to release what I have held within for so long. I am a true believer that heartache and pain is what truly builds a persons character. So I must have ALOT of character, even though I wonder sometimes. I will never forget what I read some years ago.... "God only gives you what you can handle!".... I only wish He didn't trust me so much! First though, as I am sitting here today I have to wonder just where did this year go too! A whole lot has happened this year, Mike my husband lost his job early in the year. That was almost devastating but I believe faith carried us again... He found a new job just two weeks after. This time Mike went to work for a roofing company. And within a week or two he had a raise, before you knew it another raise and within a two month time period he was made head of his own crew, "WOW.. Way to go Hon!" Knew you could do anything you set your mind to. "And I love you for always, always being there!! It breaks my heart... I love her and her children so deeply, I have always prided myself on always being there for my children no matter what. What do you do in cases when you love them so much but they do not think you know anything. To Note * This incident took place between Thanksgiving and Xmas... Her husband had hurt her, actually had broken her finger, when he pulled her out of their van, he punched and kicked her in the back while she layed in the road and then walked away.... She climbed back up into the van with her son still in the backseat, crying and drove over to my house. She beeped the horn many times and at the time I wasn't expecting anyone but looked out the window to see Jenn in the Van.... So I went outside to see what the matter was, I opened the door and she was hysterically crying and holding her hand up in a strange position.... She said," Tom and I got into a fight and I think he broke my finger, could you Please drive me to the Emergency Room. "Well, of course I jumped right in behind the drivers seat and took her to the hospital. The Doctor, the nurse, and myself all tried to tell her this stuff doesn't change it only gets worse.... Well she was in so much pain that they gave her enough pain killer to allow her to sleep for a couple of hours. In the meantime, I am worried sick, I had to leave the hospital to pick up Dezi (Jenn's Daughter) from school, so Zack and I went and came back to the hospital.... While in the waiting room, mind you five hours later, Tom walks in looks over and sees me there and gives me a dirty look, then procedes to start crying how Jenn had hurt him.... and it was all her fault... I just looked at him and said, Jenn is the one in the Hospital Tom, all he could do is rant and rave about how it was MY FAULT, if he couldn't see his children again. The nurse heard him yelling at me, so she came out and told Tom he couldn't see Jenn and to leave. Which he did. And of course, Jenn wouldn't press charges against him. If I could have I would have. Jenn stayed away from Tom for a day or two and then told me that Tom had a right to see his children and that they where going back home... of course Tom was glouting at the fact he won.... As if this was all a game to him. People's lives are not GAMES you PLAY! I had heard a week or two later that when Dezi asked Daddy," Why did you hurt Mommie? "Tom's reply was that he didn't hurt her on purpose, and that Nanny (ME), had lied about Daddy hurting Mommie on purpose. I asked Jenn if this was so and she said yes, I said
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you stood right there and let Tom lie to her, how can you do this, What does that teach your children? WHY, that is all I can ask, is WHY? Why is it you live to protect your children from what you have already been through only for them to tell you "Stay out of my business, you just don't understand!" Shortly after this incident, I overheard Tom tell my Jenna, one night while I was on the phone with her, that I wasn't allowed to call or come over to their home anymore. As much as to say, "Kiss my *% @ *....!" I don't stay away because of what he said, but rather I stay away for Jenn and the children's sake. They know where I am if they EVER NEED ME! My heart breaks none the less, isn't a day that doesn't go by Jenn and the children aren't in my heart, thoughts and prayers. As a person acts, so he becomes in life. Those who do good become good; those who do harm become bad. Good deeds make one pure; bad deeds make one impure. So we are said to be what our desire is. As our desire is, so is our will. As our will is, so are our acts. As we act, so we become. Anyways, this episode is a Book all into itself.... One day I am going to write that Book, I swear! Well tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I would like to Wish Everyone a Very Romantic Holiday. May all your dreams come true in Love! Hope you checked out the page my husband Mike, dedicated to Me! You can click HERE if you haven't had a chance to view it yet. Will talk to you again soon. God Bless Us All. Hello again! Boy does life ever change on a dime..... I was sitting in my kitchen the day before my daughter, Jenna was going to turn 24 years old. And just sitting thinking about her as I do everyday... and praying that her birthday would be wonderful for her. When the phone rang and I heard her voice on the answering machine. I couldn't believe my ears. I talked to her and told her I hope that she would have a Wonderful Birthday and that I had left something on her doorstep for her.... She thanked me and told me she loved me.... and asked if she could call me later to talk because she was running late for work. "I said, Of course!" Well, Jenna called me the next day and we talked and talked, she told me how the past three months had been for her... and asked if.... Needless to say, she needed not to finish the sentence, I told her that "Jenna, We have always been her for you and we always will be... We Love You!"..... Jenna said, "I know Mom, I Love You, too!" Jenn and the children have been staying with us now for the past four days, and you know I can't say that I can recall seeing such relaxed and sincere smiles as I have seen on their faces lately. Jenna has a good job and for once I just know things are going to go her way.... She So Deserves to be treated with the Utmost Respect and Loved as the Beautiful Human Being that she is. My prayers have been answered, for Jenna and her children are safe. And only time will tell what Jenna's future holds, but for now, it holds the love, comfort and understanding she needs right now to get through this time in her life.... "Praise the Lord!" First off, I would like again, to say to ALL of the Men and Woman in Uniform who are sacraficing their lives for our freedom, Thank You and God Bless Everyone of YOU! I salute You for your bravery and confictions but most of all for who you are! You and your families are in my thoughts and prayers. God Speed! Wow, I finally found some quiet time to write in my journal.... It has been really busy here. Jenn and Tom have been apart now for almost a month and a half. She is trying so very hard to keep above water so to speak. Since they had just bought a house not that long ago, Jenn is having to pay ALL of the bills. If she doesn't she will lose everything. She has begged Tom to help finacially but to no avail. To top this all the bills are in Tom's name, go figure. I watch the children from 8: 30pm every nite, six days aweek till 12: 30pm the next day while Jenn works. My heart breaks for her because I can see her trying so hard to keep her and the children's lives on a somewhat normal key. Yet it is taking a toll on her health. Yesterday was Desiree's 6th birthday, and Jenn pretty much made it all come together for her.... along with the
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cupcakes for the school party, Jenn had flowers and a balloon delivered to the school for Dezi. After school three of Dezi's friends, Jenn, Tom and my husband, Mike and I met up at Chucky Cheese. Wow, did they ever have fun! Needless to say, Dezi's Birthday was terrific. Oh yeah Nana here made Desiree a Birthday page, you can check it out Here To go back about a month, Jenn needed a way to work, so she had saved some money and bought herself a little runabout, it is the cutest little car and cost her $500. 00, Tom on the other hand let the family vehichle that he was supposed to be paying on, (but failed to make payments) get repossed. Jenn thought Tom had earilier paid an Electric bill for some $300 dollars only to find out he hadn't paid it at all and they where going to turn off Jenn's utilities.... So again, Jenn had to pay this as well. And if this isn't enough, Jenn received papers stating that Tom wants custody of their children. Tom told my Jenna, get this, He would come back if she guits her job. Dezi had something to say about that, Dezi told her Daddy, "Mommie isn't going to quit her job Daddy, if Mommie wants to quit her job she can, but Mommie needs her job to take care of us." Marriage is such a beautiful union until it all falls apart. And the Love is gone. And the bitterness takes it's place. My heart is with you Jenn and the children as are my thoughts and prayers. I am so very proud of you Jenn for standing up for yourself and your children. You hang in there hon, and Hold your head up high. Well, I am going to take the rest of my quiet time and relax. It is my day off! I haven't caught the bug that is going around even though all of the children and Jenn, my son, Chris, my husband, Mike have all had. Guess someone has to stay well to take care of them, guess that someone is me. Please Know you are all in my thoughts and prayers. God Bless. Will try and get back to my journal every week on my day off, or as time permits. Have a good week of love peace and harmony. I insert this prayer into my mail signature, and now I am going to place it here for All who come to visit Heaven's Blessings. I leave you with peace, love and harmony. Will talk to you all soon. God Bless! I asked the Lord to bless you This year is going by so fast... Here it is already July. Well, I hadn't realized just how long it had been since I last posted in My Journal. So here is an update for all of you who like to visit Heaven's Blessings to see what's new. Jenn & Tom have gotten back together. Desiree passed Kindergarden and will be going into First Grade in September. Though she cryed when she heard she wouldn't have the same Teacher next year, and Zak well he is talking up a storm and will be turning 3 in September (2003). My husband, Mike was promoted as you know to Foreman and now runs his own crew for the company he works for. My son, Ron began working for the same company as well. Ron's fiance ', Jill is working fulltime and going to school to become a Teacher. My son, Chris and his fiance', Jenny both work at jobs they both love and their little boy, Christopher will be turning 2, July 28th 2003. Myself, I have been keeping busy with the grandchildren and when all is quiet in the evening I do the updating of all the sites online I have going. I also opened up a store through CafePress. com, which features many items and goes by the name & theme, HB Creations By Lynn and the theme is "For The Angel In Your Life." With any and all monies made from the sales going to Charity. The three I have chosen are The SID's Fondation, National Childhood Cancer Fondation and St. Jude's Hospital... In case you missed the link to the store it is below: Creations By Lynn make sure to take a look and tell all of your friends. Hope everyone had a "Happy Fourth Of July!" Well, I am painting some walls in our apartment today, and since the weather has cooled down quite a bit, I can't think of a better day than today to get it done... Also, I still have a few of the birthday pages to finish and catch up on before I can put them up online for everyone to see. So for now I Thank You for coming to visit us here at Heaven's Blessings and I wish you all, Love, Life and Happiness Always. God Bless You and Yours. Hello again!! Wow how long has it been.... too long I'd say. Let's see where do I even start. I guess I will start where I left off. In July... Summer was terrific.
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The grandchildren where here practically everyday. We would go out in the backyard and play till the late afternoon. My husband, Mike (their Papa) built them a sandbox. The biggest sandbox you ever did see. How he loves to do for the little ones and how they love him so. The moment any of the grandchildren walk thru the door of our apartment the first thing out of their little mouths is "Where's Papa!" Most of the time I would reply, "Papa's working." And then one of them would say, "Papa's WORKING?" "Yes, I would say, but Papa told me to tell you he Loves You!" Of course I would hear "Where's Papa" a few more times throughout the day, which would warm my heart everytime I heard them ask it. Michael and I always looked forward to seeing the grandchildren, they seemed to light up our very boring existence. So to speak. You will understand that if Your Children have all grown and moved on to their own lives, your life as you knew it changes and becomes somewhat muldane. When the grandchildren come into your life it seems to bring something very special with it. Which brings me to sit down to my computer today to write in my journal. It has been since after our third grandson, Lil Chris's 2nd birthday at the end of July since we have seen our other two grandchildren, Dezi (6) and Zak (3). You see my daughter, Jenn and her husband, Tom had another domestic violence episode. Tom punched my daughter in the face while she held Zak in her arms. Jenn called me frantically crying and telling me to please come over to their house. I hesitantly went, and even though that sounds cruel, having to see your own flesh and blood being so mistreated and battered is even crueler. Especially knowing your efforts to hopefully and lovingly steer her clear of this torment in which she continues to put her and her children through will go unnoticed and unheard. I blame myself for the way she lives her life. I came from Domestic Violence. I am the product of Domestic Violence. My parents divorced when I was only nine years old. My Mother and Father where apart at the time I recall when my mom decided to surprise my dad by taking my three brothers and myself to where he was staying while he worked for his mother at a Snack Bar in Bath, NY. We where still living in North Tonawanda, NY at this time. Shortly upon arriving, my Mother caught my Dad in bed with another woman. Our lives where never going to be the same. His selfishness destroyed our family and my Mother. Shortly after this I came down sick, very sick. Both my mom and dad took me to the Doctor's only to find out I had Accute Rheumantic Fever, and I recall the Dr. stating to them that if they had waited one more day to bring me in I would be dead. All I truly recall of that time is them both fighting over whose fault it was all the way to the hospital so that by the time we arrived, my legs wouldn't work, I could not move them. So my dad carried me into the hospital. I was there for two weeks. After that I didn't get to see my dad again till I turned 15. His affair destroyed our existence as we knew it. Life was pure Hell after that. Our Mother did keep us children (4) all together, and she worked all the time because our Father wouldn't pay child support and offered no help what so ever in bringing us up to my knowledge. Our Mother's parents, Our Grandparents (Nan & Papa) were our light at the end of the tunnel. You see the pain our Father caused in our Mother turned her to drinking and running around with every Tom Dick and Harry, including alot of married men. I know because I used to get threatened at school by these men's children if my mom didn't stay away from their Dad's. I never told anyone, everything I ever felt went so far inside that it has taken till know to even speak of my pain. I was left in charge of taking care of my brothers, cleaning the house, cooking the meals and the ironing of the clothes. That was my childhood! And if life didn't go my Mother's way I was the one she would drag out of bed in the middle of the night to beat the hell out of and precede to tell me how it was all our fault. And how can I forget Christmas Eve throughout my life. This was a very special holiday for my Mother for it was the time I would get told how she wished I had never been born and that nobody loved me because I was no good. I was the "Black Sheep of the Family" yeap "Merry Christmas!" There are many painful times to recall but I have learned to bury them the best I can. The last time I saw my Mother, back in January of this year 2003, her remark to me was, "remember that time Bill (her boyfriend) hit you (It wasn't hard to remember that particular time when he hit
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