Three Score.....

This past week several people passed away that had no clue they wouldn’t live to see another day. A couple of them were friends of friends, makes you think.

On the Eve of my 60^th birthday today, I woke up eager to start this week and get tomorrow over with.  Then I sort of punched myself in the ribs and thought, what the hec, it’s just a number and you certainly have nothing to complain about, quit…..

 I suppose no one, if asked, would say, “Sure, I’m ready to go, just send me on my way!”  However, I got to thinking about the past 5 decades, good lord, I’ve done a lot of things, things lots of people only dream of.

I’ve delivered three healthy babies, lost twins after carrying them 6 months, been married twice, divorced twice, lost my son to cancer and almost my daughter, had cancer myself and am surviving MDS. 

I’ve driven and flown all over this land.  I’ve stood in Time’s Square and watched the Naked Cowboy play his guitar, I’ve seen Broadway, Central Park and bought a fake Rolex from a guy in Battery Park.

I’ve driven through the Hollywood Hills and even met a star while cruising through. I’ve seen the stars in LA up and down the sidewalk and driven the LA freeways. I’ve walked the halls of Alcatraz and bartered in Tijuana for cheap jewelry.

I’ve driven the border and felt sick looking at how some people must live in Juarez, no doors, windows, roofs.

I’ve seen the Redwood Forrest in Spring and driven through a tree bigger than my car. 

I’ve gotten a passport and gone to British Columbia to visit friends and had Christmas on Thanksgiving.

I’ve been to both coasts and seen the ocean from both sides and picked up rubble from 9-11. 

I’ve seen Washington DC, the Potomac and cried at Mt. Rushmore. I’ve had a convertible and known wind in my hair driving through the Smoky Mountains.  I’ve seen my Cardinals win The World Series several times and gloated as my own son hit one out of the park. 

I’ve given, taken, and known some of the kindest people who will ever walk the face of the earth, also some of the meanest.

I’ve been to weddings, funerals, awards ceremonies and Christmas Pageants.

I’ve ridden a tilt-a-whirl till I got sick, gone to a fortune teller and built snowmen.  I’ve written poems and stories, gone to college and made porcelain teeth.  I’ve sold magazines over the phone and made pizzas and waitressed.  EEEK, not for me.

I’ve made incubators and hatched ducks and chickens with the kids.  I’ve had spiders for pets, a rattle snake and scorpion.  I’ve ridden horses and even fell off the back of one.

I’ve been up on water skis and driven a boat.  I’ve ridden a motorcycle all the way to Bear Tooth Pass and through the Grand Tetons. 

I’ve met people as we’ve exchanged music over the years that have become friends in every sense of the word.  I’ve lost friends, gained friends and never wavered in my faith.  I’ve been angry at God and praised him for the miracle I’ve seen in my daughter.  I’ve both  gone to church and slept in on Sundays.

  I’ve eaten an apple and found a half a worm.  I’ve seen the Hall of Presidents at Disney and had King Kong rattle the seat I was in.  I’ve taken a tour of Graceland and have seen where the King resided.  I’ve walked, down Beale Street and sipped on a margarita at BB Kings and sang along to oldies at Jerry Lee’s. 

I’ve had a shot or two of tequila and was foolish enough a few times to get sick.  I’ve had surgeries, griped and complained of aches and pains and then slapped myself into being a non-complainer.  

I’ve watched my friends at TCRC get their first jobs, watched them succeed and sometimes fail.  I’ve laughed with them and cried. I’ve had a career I have both adored and spewed with frustration from.

I’ve had good friends, one friend I’ve had since we were in kindergarten, yikes, 55 years.  Isn’t that some sort of record?

I have another friend who I met under the strangest of circumstances, ask me about C someday, my partner in crime.    

I could go on and on but I’m sure you get the jest of it.  Going places and seeing new things is an adventure every time but the time you spend with your friends and family cannot beat any one of these things, I really have been blessed over the years.  The way I see it is like this.  I’ve been here for 60 years now, wonder what lies ahead in the next, say 40 years????

 

And in the words my daughter hates I’ll say, “I’m fixin’ to find out.”  J

 

11/14/15

     His hands shook as he wrestled with the last bit of broccoli on his plate. His skin was thin and purple with bruising covering most of his hands and arms.  His wheelchair too, had stickers and novelties scattered here and there so one would never question what once was a huge part of John’s life.

  He noticed me admiring his decorated hat. “Did you hear?  Did you hear? Paris is under siege.” 

“I did hear that there were some things happening over there today John, but not that they were under siege.”

I scooted my chair closer to him and asked about his hat.  There was barely an inch of the actual hat visible.  Pins of all sorts adorned the hat with the letters VFW in red across the front. 

“What branch were you in?”  He quickly replied, “Air Force.” 

I assumed WW2 and I was right but he added Korea to the mix.  I’m not sure I had ever met anyone who had served in both.  His blue eyes lit up as I asked him about what his job was.  “I flew bombers, man was it fun.”  I looked at him as if to question what he had just said, “fun?” I asked. 

He sat down his napkin, adjusted the oxygen under his nose and began unraveling a story that unless you didn’t know this man was telling the truth, you’d never believe. 

I’m fascinated with real-life stories people tell, of their experiences, of what happened in their lives so many years before, always have been.

I could tell he was growing weary and short of breath reliving those by gone days of him and his buddies flying planes, making friends, whistling at those beautiful foreign women and fighting for me, fighting for all of us. 

He rolled himself out of the room without saying much except as he went through the doorway I did hear him say, “Send me back over there by god, I’ll go back tomorrow.”

  You know, even at 97, I think he would.

The Season of our broken hearts

Why isn't she aware of the time of year it is.  Why doesn't she know it's Christmastime and in a million radios around the country, Burl Ives is belting out, "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas" and Brenda Lee is "Rocking around the Christmas Tree."
She's not aware that people are bustling around buying hams and pies.  Decorations have long been strung and children are beside themselves waiting for The Jolly Old Elf . 
She doesn't realize it's the season of our Lord's birth, that Churches are being filled with people
singing "Silent Night, Holy Night."

I watched her chubby short fingers plunge into the celaphane bag,  filled with cheese crackers.  Methodically she removed them one by one and devoured them.  Fresh green nail polish adorned those little nails and now, powdered cheese. One after the other, gone.  In the next instant she
noticed the chocolate covered peanut that was in front of her, finishing her last cracker and shoving the sweet treat into her mouth. Today, she can have anything she wants, within reason of course, anything at all.

Time changes things, it changes people. I don't understand it and I don't necessarily like it.  There was a time when she worked a job at a school, was bright and knew every child's name at the school.  She passed out milk during lunch, took their fifteen cents and swept and mopped the cafeteria when lunch was over and wiped all the tables.  She was vibrant, she was working and in her eyes, "A big shot."

Today is her last day with us, time to stay home so no one has to worry about her wandering out in the cold without her coat or falling on hard concrete. 
Wherever she goes, someone is right behind her, watching over her to keep her safe, three years of watching her every move, protecting her from any and everything.
I watched as I talked to her aide about the fun times we'd had and saw the tears come to the tops of her lower lids and almost spill over.  Tough day but good job with your friend.  Even though she
won't remember you tomorrow, we will, and you have to know how much you were appreciated taking care of this perfect child. 
The new year will bring many changes and there will be a void here that no one can fill, so glad I got to spend some time with you today, to hold your hand for just a minute, oh yes....I'll always remember you.

The Crow you eat

Haven't wrote in awhile, this all came to mind after an experience with a friend a few weeks ago.  It was too funny not to write about, please know some of this is dramatized.  Imagine that....

Breast cancer isn’t funny, in fact for anyone who has ever heard the words, “We see something that looks suspicious,” it’s a nightmare.  Laughter is the best medicine they say, I know that to be true.

Several months ago there was an office discussion going on regarding how long it had been since everyone had their mammograms.  I, religiously, since my diagnosis, go in on a regular basis.  A co-worker and friend admitted it had been several years since she had gone in.  Once I heard that, it was all the ammunition I needed to prod her into submission.

Needless to say, she stewed, worried and tried to back out several times before we buddied up and went in together.  She was convinced she had breast cancer and didn’t want to know if indeed she did. 

We arrived at the smash-o-matic together and both were apprehensive to say the least. Both the nurse and I had to pry my friend from under a table in the waiting room.  Her arms and legs wrapped around the legs like bacon on a hot dog. Finally she relented as I slowly peeled her last finger from the table leg.  I could see this was not going to be easy.

Once in the waiting room I was called back first.  I made her promise she wouldn’t take off and we would actually pull this heist off.  She promised and I entered the “cavern.” This is a place between heaven and hell.  It’s a room where you put on a little cape that I swear looks like one of my mother’s old table cloths that I would iron for her, complete with little picnic baskets scattered throughout the heavily starched material.

“Snap it up the front” Ratchett screeched. I yi yi yi…whatever.

I waddled out into the dark electronic room and felt a bit like a bell.  When I walked the cape only moved from side to side, I was the dinger.  Lord, I hate these things.

I finished up after a fair amount of poking and prodding and returned to the “cavern” to await the verdict.

 I could go, I was free, no more pictures needed, whew!!!

I returned to the waiting room and sat down.  The other ladies in there were laughing about “another lady” who wore her bell costume out in the waiting room instead of waiting in the
“cavern” What a dummy….everyone knows the routine here, secretely knowing it was my friend who did it.  Just then, in she walked, I shot a side glance to the other old bitties who had been laughing and walked out with pride alongside my friend.  I would have given anything to have heard the conversation after we left. 

Crow is sometimes hard to swallow.

The Store Bought Doll

For Liz...                            Christmas Eve 1987

“Mommy, tell me the story about the little girl and the dolly.  Please  Mommy, please?”

I reached back in my memory bank  and tried to recall the details of the story that I had made up in my head on  Christmas Eve the year before.  As my little 3 year old blond cherub lie in her Holly Hobby pink canopy bed, I stretched out beside her to begin our Christmas Eve ritual;  the same story, told virtually the same way that would become “our  tradition” for many years to come. 

The story took place in a small town 100 years ago or so.  I began it every time with “Once upon a time.”  If I neglected to start it that way I would be reminded straight away, “No, no… Mommy, remember, it’s Once upon a time, that’s how the story starts.”  I often started it differently just to see if she’d remember.  She always did.

As my made up story began and because I wasn’t reading it from a book I had the opportunity to watch her as the story began to unfold.  Her little brown almond-shaped eyes had a sparkle in them that they only had on this night once a year.  The butterfly night light lit the room just enough to put a glow across her face and I could see a tiny smile on her face as she squirmed deeper into her comforter and stared toward the ceiling as her imagination took her back to a time that she could barely imagine.  A time when there was no electricity, no heat except that heat radiated from the fireplace; a poor family that barely made ends meet and wore clothing that was careworn and threadbare  but always clean. 

I was always a “Little House on the Prairie” fan so stories like this were easy to recollect.  The only thing the little girl in the story wanted for Christmas was a store bought doll.  She saw it every time she went into town with her mother. It was high on the shelf and wore the most beautiful ivory-colored dress with lace and pearl buttons that she had ever seen. Its hair had long auburn-colored locks that shined like the Autumn sun.

 Her mother looked sadly as her little girl pointed to the shelf where the doll sat quietly .  “Will Santa Claus bring me that dolly Mommy?”  “Oh, Elizabeth…I’m not sure if he will or not, he has many, many children to deliver gifts to this year, perhaps another year he will.”  Even though the thought of never having the doll made the little girl sad you would never have known it.  She stood for several minutes and her mother allowed her to take in every detail so she wouldn’t forget exactly what she looked like.

Of course my story always ended with the mother selling something very personal to purchase the doll for her little girl and the HUGE surprise Christmas morning when the doll was unwrapped.

Why Liz loved this story so much I don’t know but I suspect that it wasn’t so much the story as the Magic of Christmas Eve and having her mom lie  beside her and spin a yarn that she had grown to love so much.  To this day we talk about that story and how much she loved it, and every year when we talk about it I see her eyes dart toward the ceiling with that same sparkle in them I had seen 24 years ago. 

Merry Christmas Liz!!

Feelin "Giddy"

Today I’ve decided I’m feeling a little “giddy”.  That’s another one of those odd words that sound funny if you really think about it.  I mean what if someone’s last name is giddy and then you say you’re feeling a little “giddy”?  Does that mean you’re feeling a little like that person?  I mean, what if you don’t like the giddy person.  What if they are the kind of person who takes one wing off of a fly just to watch him spin around in circles?  Or…he’s the kind of person at the buffet line who licks his fingers then puts them on the serving spoon.  Or…what if this Mr. or Mrs. Giddy have a uni-brow and ear hair?

I know, I sure get off track.  The reason I’m feeling giddy is because I went to my breast surgeon today and it’s now been over 3 years since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer!!  I DO NOT have to have a mammogram until March!!!  Woo Hoo!!  I am happy with that.

Last Friday I saw my hematologist.  The shots I’ve been taking since July do not appear to be working.  He’s going to give me until the end of this month as protocol allows that much time.  Then…who knows.  I’ve been getting blood on an average of every 3 weeks, right now I’m registering at only about a quarter of a tank so am feeling a little slow.  Today, more blood work and possibly blood tomorrow.    

My breast surgeon, once she heard of all of these new health concerns turned to me and said, “You can’t get a break, can you”?  “This is worse than the breast cancer”.  DUH…and I do wonder sometimes where these professionals get their licenses.  My answer to her was plain and simple.  “Doc, I’m 55 years old.  I’m not in my 20’s like two of my kids were when they were diagnosed with cancer.  I’m not 2 years old, or 10.  I feel lucky to have had the time I’ve had and besides, I’M NOT PLANNING ON GOING ANYWHERE JUST YET”!  She did smile and say, “I’m sure you’re not”.  At that moment is when I started to feel “giddy’ because I could tell she believed it. 

One more thing on a lighter note.  Have you ever seen something that made you take a double or triple take and that one thing made you cry just a little tear?  I’m talking about the kind of tear that unless someone was looking very closely they wouldn’t notice?  When I was going to work yesterday morning I passed a Jr. High School in Morton.  As I drove past it was early in the morning, around 7:30 give or take a few minutes.  Around the flagpole out on the front lawn there was around 20 to 30 students holding hands and saying a prayer.  I don’t know why that got to me at that moment but it did.  I felt that familiar sting in my eyes and blinked it away but thought about it as I drove on. 

Sitting outside of Kroger in Washington the other evening waiting for a friend I saw an elderly lady get out of her car.  I’m not sure how she managed to walk into the store.  She was bent forward and her legs genuinely looked like they could not take another step, my god, I admired her.  What makes one person keep going no matter what the situation and others to give up over the smallest things?  Questions, questions….

One more thing...NO BLOOD TOMORROW!!  I just got back from the docs and it's gone down very little in 1 week, another reason for GIDDISHNESS!!  :)  Maybe those shots are kickin' in!

The Buick

The Buick  My eyes were squinting as I raised my cardboard cup to my lips and tasted the first sip of the warm, sweet, creamy liquid that would eventually wake me up. It was Monday and if I ever needed coffee it was this day.   The sun was bright in my rearview mirror, another hot muggy summer day ahead.  The humidity hung in the air like the stench of dirty sox. The corn was over knee high and the Fourth of July weekend was about to be celebrated in fireworks, picnics and red, white and blue buntings.  After the weekend, Fall would soon be here and I couldn’t wait, I am not a hot weather fan. I flipped the radio station to a more classic country tune, more suitable lately to my taste.  As George belted out, “He stopped loving her today” I caught the first glimpse of the black SUV behind me, it was large…a Buick by the emblem…looming over the hill I had just gone over.  I was slightly irritated almost immediately at not only the fact that someone was following me this early in the morning but that now I felt rushed, you know how you feel when someone is riding your butt, you feel the need to drive faster to keep them at bay. The faster I went the closer he got.  I could hear the roar of the engine behind me and with my windows down could smell the stench of oil burning somewhere.I lifted my shoulders to ease up the stress they were feeling and could feel the tiny beads of sweat accumulating under my hair on my neck. I came to a stop at the corner and he rested his bumper not 6 inches away.  I turned around in my seat and shot him a “if looks could kill” sorta look.  When I did he revved up his engine and jumped the Buick toward me, I turned and he went straight, thank god.As I pulled into work I had to chuckle at what had just happened.  I shook my head, rolled up my windows and walked into work.  The rest of the day I didn’t give it a second thought. With the happy thoughts of such a festive holiday weekend with my family  dancing in my head I grabbed my keys and purse and headed out the door.  I stopped and put thirty dollars worth of gas in my car, barely filling it to a quarter of a tank.  I sighed and began my 18 mile trek to work.  The DJ announced “another hot one out there today” and without hesitancy I changed the station, didn’t want to hear that, good god, I already felt it.   Hardly a car on the road at 7am.  I relaxed in my seat for the half hour drive through the countryside and settled in to a Hal Ketchum CD. Immediately I was in a better mood, a voice like his can sooth the savage beast within.  Just as “Small Town Saturday Night” ended I felt a presence and adjusted my rearview mirror only to see the Buick not ten feet from my bumper. I cringed and wondered how long he’d been there as I was singing loudly to Hal. I slowed down and assumed he’d go around me and probably shoot me the bird, he didn’t.  He continued to move up and back.  All I could see in my mirror was the chrome grill and his mirrored sun glasses.  I had at least three more miles before the turn off.  My heart started pounding and even the smell of fresh mowed grass didn’t take my mind off of what was happening, I turned off the CD and put both hands on the wheel.  They felt clammy and tense, ten and two, ten and two.  The last thing I wanted to do was really tick this guy off.  I didn’t want to be a statistic in the homicide forum.  I drove like I was carrying eggs, steady speed and straight as I could considering I was beginning to shake some.  The corner, I could see it coming.  I stopped, turned on my left signal, turned, and he went straight.When I got into work I immediately called the police, they took a report with the little information I could offer.    I felt better just reporting him, I felt assured he wouldn’t bother me again. Smiling as I passed some scattered farm equipment and glancing at the now brown stalks of corn I felt jubilant.  The long hot days of Summer were finally drawing to a close and I could once again breathe in the cool clean crisp air of an impending Fall. Homemade scarecrows adorned the lawns along the country road and brightly colored Indian corn enticed the squirrels.  Jack-O-Lanterns were placed on wooden porches and leaves were slowly  dropping one by one.   I thought about my upcoming day as the radio blasted “brown-eyed girl” on the Hippie Radio Station.  Life was indeed good. Suddenly I smelled onion…pastrami…rye bread.  I figured it was smells coming from a farm house cooking their breakfast but then realized the Buick was upon me.  As I looked in the mirror I saw him raise his hand to his mouth and take a huge bite of the sandwich.  He was close enough that I saw what looked like mayonnaise run down the corner of his mouth, he used the back of his hand to wipe it off.  He bounced up and down in his seat like a small child does when he’s told he’s going to the circus.  I decided I wasn’t going to deal with him again this morning, I punched the accelerator and sped up to eighty five with the large, looming black Buick not a foot away from my bumper, the faster I drove the more he bounced in his seat.  By now the fact that he was eating a deli sandwich was the least of my worries.  I had to slow down and that would assuredly not make him happy.  I dropped back to fifty five and instantly felt a jolt that sent my head reeling backwards and into the headrest.  Jesus, he hit me.  I could hear an uncontrollable laugh and the stench of the onion drifting through my cracked window.  I rolled the window all the way up and locked the doors, I continued on, not daring to stop.  I felt heavy pastrami laden breath against my neck, making the hair raise up on my arms.  Did I know this person, had I done something at some point in my life to annoy him to this point…my god, I sometimes catch flies and take them outside as not to have to kill them.  I’m not perfect but shit, I surely didn’t deserve this…did I? I was still a good 4 miles from my turn off and could feel my chest tightening up, feel my legs quivering and my neck was rigid.  The grill of the Buick was laughing at me, I could see it’s jagged  teeth snarling and eyes like that of a cats, sleek and slanted back like the strong wind had placed them there.  Two miles to go.  As I crested a hill up ahead I saw a huge blue tractor taking up the whole width of the road, I immediately slowed down and the Buick backed way off.  As I went around the tractor to his left, the farmer smiled and waved.  All I cared about was there was now something in between me and the Buick.  I reached my turn off and saw the blue tractor a mile behind me and there was no sign of the Buick.  I sighed a heavy sigh, got to work and examined my car, not a scratch.  How odd, it was a hard jolt.  I again called the police and made a report.  The officer kind of laughed and said, “Maybe you should take a different route to work lady.”  Maybe I should I thought…. Over the next two months and into January I drove a different way to work.  When I thought about it I’d get a little bitter, angry.  Why would I let some idiot change the drive I loved so much, the course I had taken everyday for 11 years, the epitome of a John Denver song.    In mid January I awoke to new fallen snow and immediately was in a great mood, the weathermen predicting 3 to 4 more inches, I was in heaven.  I buttoned up my coat, threw on my mittens and went out the door, leaving almost an hour early to enjoy my drive through the country.  I hardy gave thought to my past experiences and only thought of the snow covered evergreens with snow glistening off their heavy branches.   Children waited for the school bus and as they waited built snowmen with red scarves and hats, black coal eyes and carrots for their noses. A yellow lab shoveled his nose through the snow and around the snowman.   Now empty fields where the corn just a few short months before stood tall and proud. The plows and combines tucked closely up next to the red barns for the Winter.   The snow was blowing against the fences that kept it from blowing across the road, doing their jobs. For that I was thankful.   I cranked up the radio to an old Rick Trevino song, “Bobby Ann Mason” and drove carefully along the snow packed road.  I passed the line of evergreens by the old red barn and a Norman Rockwell picture came to mind.  I never want summer to come again but know just as Spring will bring the rains and flowers, Summer won’t be far behind.   As I passed the red barn with a smile on my face I felt a tingle go up my spine.  The kind of tingle you feel when something is close; something evil.  I refrained from looking in my rearview mirror, there was no need to.  HE wasn’t there.  It had been months, it wasn’t possible was it?  Slowly and without moving my head my eyes made their way up to the mirror.  If he was there I didn’t want him to see my head move up toward the mirror.  Nausea came flooding over me and the smell of his stench filled my nostrils.