Long Hollow

Tenacity

Tomorrow will mark four days in a row I didn't have to report to one job or another. That's a record. When I say "job", I'm not talking about working on my book or photography, but at one of those hourly paying gigs that help feed our bank account.

When I envisioned these four wide open days, I saw myself up early, typing away at my book, filling dozens of pages even before heading out for my morning walk with the puppies. I would then edit some photos, write a blog post or two before lunch, followed by making a major dent on my to-do notebook (it's expanded way beyond a list.) I would still have time to work out, and take the pups and my camera on an afternoon walk to the pond. 

Well, of course, in real life it didn't work out that way. I had so many odds and ends to take care of that it felt like my days just kind of piddled away.

I did manage to  work on my book a couple of times, edit some photos, and publish a blog post, but there are some major to-do's I still haven't tackled.

There's always tomorrow...

I say that too often these days.

The thing is... and I hate to put words to the phantom thoughts drifting through my brain.. but I'm beginning to think it's impossible to be a writer, photographer, blogger, personal historian, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, waiter, substitute teacher, and.... um, I think that's it.... all at the same time.

But that doesn't mean I'm giving up. 

On one of my recent walks, I noticed new grapevine twisting around an old limb. Clinging, climbing, intent on moving ever up and up. I was first struck by the bright red color, but its tenacity is what mesmerizes and inspires me now. Tom cleared out as much grapevine as he could this winter - it tends to choke the trees - but grapevine is one stubborn, headstrong plant.

 

I want to be like that.

Last Wednesday night I attended a photography workshop by Clay Blackmore, a professional portrait photographer about my age who started with film thirty years ago. He had to make the switch to digital - and to edgier, artsy photos - to stay on top of his business.

The guy next to me and I started talking. He also was about my age and had been a film photographer who only recently picked up a digital camera, trying to get back into photography and make some money from it. I can't remember now what he asked me, but in answering him, I mentioned that I was writing a book as well as doing some portrait and art photography.

That's when the woman sitting in front of us, also about our age, turned around. She asked me about my book and how I found my critique group. Seems she started writing a romance novel twenty years ago herself, but set it on a shelf somewhere along the way. It had been gnawing on her lately to dust it off and finish it, but she just hadn't done it yet.

When we said good night a little later, I told her "Get back on that book tomorrow!" And she promised she was going to. I believe she did.

I like to think I inspired her. But she also inspired me.

So tomorrow, I'll be working on my book. And my photos. And my blogs. And transcribing an interview, scanning some old photos...

Tomorrow has arms wide open, full of possibility, don't you know?

 

I hope you've had a great week that included at least a few minutes of doing something you've dreamed about, something that makes your imagination soar and your heart beat faster.

If not, there's still time. What are you waiting for?

"Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out."

~ Robert J. Collier

 

Earth Day and an Apology to my Puppies

The dogs' bowls were empty. Max had wandered around the corner of the house, probably on down to the doghouse, calling it a night. Belle lay near me, gnawing on a bone. 

I had a few hours left in the day after seven hours (on my feet) at the winery and a long walk with the puppies. Potential to-do's flipped through my mind like cards in a rolodex...

And yet there I sat, butt frozen to my rocking chair, mesmerized by the rhythmic chirp-chirps of the crickets, the bass croaking of the frogs, the steady singing of the little waterfall below me.

I rocked and watched the blue of a cloudless eastern sky deepen... watched a blink of a crescent moon appear in the west... tried to think of a way to describe the color of the sunset...

No clouds. Nothing dramatic. Just a golden, pinkish, blue...

...and that's when I heard it, the buzzing in my ear. Mosquito. Time to go in.

But despite the mosquitos and other bugs, Earth is a great place to live, isn't it? 

Happy Earth Day!

Now, the apology... 

In yesterday's post, I mentioned a dead armadillo we discovered on the property, and that we suspected our puppies, trying to protect us from great danger, had something to do with its demise.

Well, I think everyone knows armadillos are pretty harmless. 

But coral snakes aren't, and we're pretty sure the dogs also had something to do with the demise of this one pictured below...

Red and yella kill a fella. Yep, coral snake. 

We found it dead and decaying on the side of our driveway back in March, and yet I never once posted about it. Oh, I intended to, but there's that time thing...

But that's no excuse. I should have bragged about my ferocious, courageous, heroic puppies at the time, so that's why I'm officially apologizing to them now.

Will you forgive me, Belle and Max?

Pretty please?

Pretty, pretty please? We'll take an extra walk tomorrow...

Whew. I think I'm forgiven.

Sweet dogs.

Sweet Earth. 

 

Love, Life, and The Fault in Our Stars

I hesitated signing up to review The Fault in Our Stars by John Green for the BlogHer Book Club. The blurb said it was about a teenager with terminal cancer, and quite honestly, I wasn't sure if I could handle another book about death and dying. It feels like that's all I've been writing about lately.

But I did sign up for it, because I've enjoyed all of the other books I've read in the BHBC. I trusted them that this one would be just as good.

Well, I'm so glad I did. Green's characters - Hazel, Augustus, Isaac - are so real and fresh and funny that I totally fell in love with them. I could hardly put the book down.

Green tells their story without letting it muddle into a melodramatic tearjerker. Oh, I cried plenty of tears - it's a book about kids dealing with cancer and facing death, after all - but mostly I laughed and cheered and rejoiced.

The characters came to life for me, more than any other characters I've ever gotten to know and love. They felt genuine, and I think I'm qualified to judge, having raised three teenagers of my own in recent history.

Where other teenagers dream of their future, Green's characters wonder if they'll have a future beyond the next year... week... month. They realize the importance of the "here and now" because they know that may be all they get. And it reminded me that none of us is guaranteed more than the "here and now".

So, even though the main characters are teenagers, this book isn't just for young adults. The story goes straight to your heart, making it ageless. 

It's also a love story more than a cancer story. Love doesn't know anything about cancer, or oxygen tanks, or prosthetic legs - it's a straight heart-to-heart connection. And when so much in your life is out of your hands, it's a relief to have some sense of control over even a small aspect.

As Augustus says, "You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you."

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club, but the opinions are my own. I really do love, love, love this book and its characters. If you've ever loved, loved, loved a book, join the discussion, "Which Books Do You Love?", HERE.

A Celestial Evening (Celeste Krenz and Harley's Angels)

Friday night, Tom and I joined 38 other sets of ears in our friends' living room to listen to Celeste Krenz, an singer/songwriter we'd never heard of before, even though her amazing voice has been singing for audiences for a couple of decades.

Her songs are unique, yet familiar somehow... her voice lyrical, soothing, and angelic... even when she's singing "If I Had a Gun"... 

And nothing beats listening to music like that in the intimacy of a home concert.

These particular friends, Bob and Lisa, have hosted several concerts in their home, including the Shake Russell concert a few years ago that inspired us to have our own (because we couldn't make it to theirs!)

Two years ago Bob and Lisa decided to add a purpose beyond entertainment to the concerts. Each artist who performed in their home signed a a Venture V3 acoustic/electric guitar that was later auctioned off. Last year it went for $2000 in a live auction at the Flight Against Breast Cancer fundraiser.

The fundraiser benefited Harley's Angels, a non-profit organization comprised of a group of "women motorcycle enthusiasts dedicated to promoting breast cancer awareness, research and education." 

Bob, a motorcycle enthusiast himself, lost his sister Karen to breast cancer a few years ago. This is his way of celebrating her life and helping to fight the disease that took her life.

The Shake Russell Trio and Michael Hearne will be the featured performers again this year at the third annual Flight Against Breast Cancer fundraiser on September 29.

Celeste Krenz kicked off this year's concert series and fundraising: a portion of her CD sales went to Harley's Angels.

Susan Gibson plays in May. I'm not sure who else Bob has lined up this year, but I'm sure he'll gather some other great musician/artists. Last year's guitar was signed by Tavana, Chuck Cannon, Klaus Oglesby, Jeff Senour, Joe McGinnity, Shake Russell, Doug Floyd, Mike Roberts and Michael Hearne.

As you can tell, Bob isn't one of those people who sits around wishing other people would do something. He just does it.

Bob holds the guitar steady while Celeste signs her name.

Celeste with representatives of Harley's Angels.

 

Celeste with hosts, Bob and Lisa.

 

I just love this pic of Bob and my sweetie! They've been friends since their Coast Guard days. 

If you're interested in learning more about the Flight Against Breast Cancer concert series and auction, let me know and I'll be sure to keep you posted on the details.

Beauty in the Midst

Last week I helped celebrate my cousin Ronnie's life. 

Looking through the photos afterward, Claire Bidwell Smith's words kept coming back to me...

"Even in the midst of all this pain and sadness I see something beautiful."

 

I snapped this one of Ronnie's sister Cindy surrounded by her daughters, grandkids, and great-granddaughter because of the palpable feeling of support they gave her, as well as the sweet hug and kiss of comfort from a grandson to his grandma. I had never even met some of these generations before, my own cousins once or twice or three times removed.

 

I had to capture this smile on my mother's face as she met her great-great niece, Khloie, and the proud smile on Khloie's grandma's face.

 

Representatives of the Veterans of Foreign Wars paid tribute to Ronnie's military service with a few words at the graveside ceremony. 

The man in overalls on the far left was Ronnie's neighbor, a good friend who drove Ronnie to and from his many doctor visits. 

 

 

 

Charles and Howard are brothers, my cousins. 

I had good visits with both of them on this day. 

I can't remember the last time I saw either one of them. Perhaps it was at a funeral.  It makes me sad to think the next time I see them will probably be at another funeral.

 

 

Martha and my mom's friendship goes all the way back to junior high. Martha's sweet face always appears in those times when Mama needs support, reminding me of my own longtime friends. (I wonder what they talk about when I'm not around?) 

 

Tex-Mex for lunch afterwards with my parents and sister, Brenda. 

Mama and Daddy aren't often this dressed up. I used this opportunity for a photo shoot. Daddy made me work for it, though.

"Well, that's okay, but Daddy, this time remember to look down just a little so the flash doesn't bounce off of your glasses. And smile!"

 

"Hmmm... better, but Daddy this time don't take a bite of food before I take the picture and really smile! You know I'll keep taking them until you do what I tell you."

 

 "That's it! Perfect!" (He knew I meant it!)

The Rules of Inheritance: a journey through grief

 

 

It's somehow fitting that I've been reading Claire Bidwell Smith's The Rules of Inheritance for the past few weeks.

Last night I dove into the final chapters, my mind still swirling with sorrow and joy that lingered from a quick trip to Houston for my cousin's funeral. Sorrow for friends and family wrapped tight in grief for the recent loss of their loved ones, including a dear friend whose husband just died, and joy from time spent with my parents, sister, and cousins I rarely see. 

I arrived home just in time to attend Ash Wednesday services, where Father Don reminded us of our mortality, of the importance of not squandering the gift of life we've been given, but to find a way to give back. 

Through all of this, Smith's book was on my mind, because it deals with life and death and grief. Mostly her own grief. When Smith was fourteen, both of her parents were diagnosed with cancer. Her mother died when Smith was eighteen and then, just seven years later, she watched her father take his last breath.

Smith takes us along on her heart-wrenching and courageously candid journey, but as tragic as it is, underneath is an unspoken glimmer of hope that kept me turning the pages. I knew she survived this dark passage of her life... I could tell that she was writing it from a patch of light that gave her strength to venture back in, in order to share her story with us.

But I couldn't imagine how she did it. I wanted to know. I needed to know.

How do you face the grief without letting it swallow you? How do you continue when you've lost your "most important person"?

I've felt grief and loss. Two sisters-in-law. My oldest brother. All of my grandparents. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Close friends.

But my parents and my husband's parents are all still alive... still voices on the other end of the phone... still just a hop in the car and a few hours' drive away.  Except for my brother, we have all ten of our siblings. All of our children.

Mostly, we still have each other.

But life is so fragile. In little over a year, six of my friends have become widows. Several of my classmates from high school, former co-workers, and now my cousin have died in the past year as well, while others have lost their parents. 

Smith was young when she lost her parents, but is there ever an age when you're prepared for that void in your life?

I feel blessed. Grateful. And lucky. But I also feel a twinge of guilt that makes me stumble over the right words. Smith says "If you haven't been through a major loss, then the truth is that you just don't know what to say to someone who has." 

She talks about the friends that gathered around her in her father's last days. Just their physical presence, their touch, helped her get through it. I remember how much it meant to me when I looked up at my brother's funeral and spotted my girlfriends.

Even if I don't know what to say, I'll try harder to be physically present.

I also won't pass judgement. I won't tell anyone it's time to get on with their lives, but will try to just listen. "Our grief is as individual as our lives," Smith says. 

Simone Weil said "All sins are attempts to fill voids."

Smith's reactions to her parents' illnesses and deaths certainly proves this to be true. She relates with raw honesty her futile attempts to fill the void. I'm amazed she not only survived, but managed to settle her father's estate, get her degree, and hold jobs while traveling the dark and gritty path of her teens and twenties.

I recommend this book to anyone who is actively grieving, but also to anyone who has struggled with depression, loneliness, bad relationships, trying to find the right path, or just trying to figure out who they really are. They'lll be able to identify with her story, too, whether or not they've suffered loss such as hers.

It's not until years later that Smith allows her grief to bubble to the surface or is able to recognize Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's five stages of grief in her dark journey.

Now a grief counselor, Smith used the stages of grief as the framework for her memoir. It isn't a linear story, but jumps from one episode in her life to another, back and forth, but told in the present tense, allowing us to experience the moment through her eyes. 

Some of the episodes are repeated with slight differences; I didn't understand this until near the last chapter when she explains the stages are just a frame to work with. "You may never experience all of them. You may go through them out of order or sometimes find yourself in more than one of them at the same time." 

Life and death go hand in hand. Personal loss is waiting for each of us around one of the corners, just ahead. I believe reading Smith's book will help anyone prepare for the inevitable grief that comes with life... and to believe that it's possible to eventually get to the other side of grief and continue on.

At the end of the book, Smith describes walking in on her husband and young daughter having a tea party. She wants to freeze that moment, but knows she can't. She knows time will pass, along with many others, that they'll all grow old and die. 

But her father's words, spoken shortly before his last breath, resonate through her words. I know she believes them and I do, too:

"Life is worth living."

 

 

 

 

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are totally my own.

 

 

 

"Girl...We SO Crazy" (a Diva weekend in Long Hollow)

 

This tiny naked baby, arms opened wide for a hug, sits on my kitchen window sill, a sweet reminder that just two weeks ago my kitchen was overflowing in love and friendship and hugs from women who have known me almost forever.

 

 

 

The baby came hidden in an authentic King Cake, carted all the way from Louisiana (along with some genuine boudin sausages) by my friend Sandy.

I'm not sure who found the baby in their piece of cake, but I love that they plopped him down where I would spot him and be reminded of them every day.

The Diva weekend started on a Friday night, two weeks ago tomorrow, when half of the women braved my dirt road in the dark of night just to get together with friends they've known since high school. 

The rest rolled in on Saturday.

The beauty of these get-togethers, though, is that we weren't all friends in high school. It took a few decades, but we're grabbing this chance to connect in ways that are impossible when you're a teenager. 

I didn't start snapping photos until Saturday morning, though, when some of us ventured out on a walk to wake up my husband who had escaped to his tent across the creek soon after grilling us a delicious fajita dinner the night before.

 

 

What a sweetheart! 

We thought about jumping in on him, then realized he might be as naked as that King Cake baby, so we just talked to him through the canvas, instead. 

 

Look! I wasn't the only one swinging a big camera that weekend! 

Love this one of Rae and Max, just chillin' by the creek...

Max and Belle love Rae - she always brings them treats. 

This time she brought puppy Valentines, of course...

After a morning spent hanging out on the porch talking and eating more fajitas, we piled into SUVs and headed to Flat Creek Estate for a wine tasting and tour. 

It was fun being a customer for a change!

We even talked Chef Sean into posing for a photo...

Back at the house, we continued the celebration of our friendship with tons of food, including the King Cake below...

...and a toast (I knew that one day all of those souvenir shot glasses I collected would come in handy!)

And that's why I feel this photo says it all...

I cannot even imagine where I would be today were it not for that handful of friends who have given me a heart full of joy. Let’s face it: Friends make life a lot more fun.

~ Charles R. Swindoll

What Electrifies You?

Author Gayle Brandeis posed that question on SheWrites last month. “What electrifies you? What gets your heart pumping? What takes your breath away? What makes the hair on your arms stand up on end?”

I answered...

Dancing, which I do as often as possible, even to the extent that I missed talking to a lot of people at my high school reunion because I couldn't leave the dance floor. Also playing my drums. I'm not any good. It will never make me any money so no matter how hard I try I can't justify the time I spend on them, but I play anyway, because playing them makes me feel alive. (But only when no one's around. Unless I've had a few drinks.)

And guess what? My answer was the Grand Prize Winner! What a sweet surprise when I saw my name in a SheWrites newsletter yesterday, especially since I had totally forgotten about it. I won a copy of Brandeis' The Book of Live Wires, along with a copy of her Bellwether-Prize winning novel, The Book of Dead Birds.

Yay! Books electrify me, too! (Also winning Grand Prizes and getting things for free!)

Something else that electrifies me is seeing my friends follow their dreams... and trying to help them along the way. Here are a couple who inspire me...

 

Walking the Walk

When I first met Jimmie Jackson, he was a tow-headed golf-loving teenager, rarely speaking up in the Confirmation class I taught. Now he's all grown up with a degree in Electronic Media, living in Nashville, and preparing for the experience of a lifetime: a solo 2,178 mile long journey along the Appalachian Trail, from Georgia to Maine.

Only Jimmie isn't just walking it... he's going to film a documentary as he goes, focusing on the spiritual aspect of the walk as much as the physical. "Why do people hike? What is the connection between being outdoors and leading a spiritual life?" He hopes to find the answers to those questions along the way.

Go to his website, Walking the Walk.org to find out more, and please consider making a small donation to help him see this dream come true. He really is a sweet kid (and I'm not just saying that because I was his Confirmation teacher!)

 photo from WalkingtheWalk.org

 

Indie Friendlie 

Indie Friendlie is my friend Byron Tully's 'baby'. With his beautiful wife, Darlene, and friend, Weathorford Bradley, he created this site to support and promote great filmmakers and great films, the ones without huge advertising budgets, the ones that get stomped on by the bullies with huge marketing campaigns, the ones left shivering in the cold outside of the theaters.

If you love independent film of any kind, go to the site and watch the clips from wonderful movies, documentaries and shorts they're spotlighting in their effort to give them "a voice, a face, an opportunity."

I've only watched one or two, but they were great. "Validation", a full length short, just made me smile and "The Inside Out Project" made me want to stand up, cheer and grab my camera.

Also, if you're a filmmaker, you can submit your own film to be showcased on Indie Friendlie. Click HERE for how-to's and guidelines.

Tully's a sweet kid, too, although I guess "kid" is a bit of a stretch since we went to high school together. He's also very, very funny.

(Full disclosure: Tully promised me one free margarita for every 1000 visitors his site receives from mine. So what are you waiting for? GO! And tell your friends to tell their friends!)

Oh, wait, before you go... What electrifies you? Share in the comments below...

 

Loving Me Some Pooh

“What day is it,?" asked Pooh.
"It's today," squeaked Piglet.
"My favorite day," said Pooh.”

 

 

The calendar says it's Tuesday, but it's Monday for me.

I'm already a day behind.

I arrived home late last night after a long, unplugged weekend, overflowing with friendship, laughter, tears, food, fellowship, sorrow, family, wine... (okay, and maybe a little tequila, too)...

There was my Diva gathering, a joyful experience.

Then Sunday morning a quick trip to Deer Park for the memorial service for another friend's husband who passed suddenly last week, a bittersweet time of memories, tears, hugs and laughter.

Afterwards, dinner on Clear Lake with another friend and her husband... sweet fellowship, delicious food and a glorious sunset.

The evening and the next day, hanging out with my parents (and a quick jaunt to see my sister)...a relaxing, heart-enriching time, just soaking up the sight of them.

But now, back home, back to "Normal", I'm drowning in laundry, unread emails, unread blogs, and unwritten words.  

So I'm going to take Pooh's attitude and be happy for today, just as it is. 

It's my favorite day!

Happy Monday, er, Tuesday!

(Thanks to Pete and Katie and others who reposted this on Facebook so I could see it!)

 

God Bless the Late Bloomers!

Those things, good Lord, that we pray for, give us the grace to labor for.

~St. Thomas More

 

It's inside of me. I can feel it pushing, trying to stretch and uncurl its petals, this flower of mine. This flower of Me.

Some days it's stronger than others and I feel it's almost there, almost free, but then it grows still, frozen by doubts. 

What will it look like, this composite of seeds blended together over a lifetime? Will one color dominate, washing out the others, or will they all be in there, a mish-mashed rainbow?

Will you be able to see the writer, who can't help but try to capture and direct the flood of words constantly streaming through her brain? The photographer who always has a camera pointed at the world, hoping to freeze what her eye sees? The re-awakened business person who sold lemonade and knick-knacks on her childhood curb? The personal historian who loves to ask nosy questions... who finds true life stories as fascinating as fiction?

I don't care. Just bloom, already!

These late-bloomers inspire and encourage me to keep trying...

Mary Wesley was in her fifties before she published her first book, one of several for children she wrote. She went on to write a novel, "Jumping the Queue," published in her seventies. It was rejected several times before MacMillan Publishers took a chance on it. By the time she died at ninety, she was a widely popular, successful writer.  

Harriett Doerr went back to college in her sixties, after her husband died. She published her first novel at seventy-three, "Stones for Ibarra," went on to write many novels, short stories and essays... and win the National Book Award.

Mary and Harriett make my 52 years feel younger than ever, God bless them!

Other late-blooming authors include Frank McCourt (60's), Richard Adams (50's), James Michener (40's - a spring chicken!), Laura Ingalls Wilder (60's) and Raymond Chandler (50's).

Although I started writing years ago, it's taken me until now to believe in myself enough to make it a priority over other parts of my life. Not necessarily a belief in any talent I might or might not have, but in my doggedness and desire to write, and the belief that those are the keys to success as much as, or maybe even more than, talent.

I'm just too stubborn to give up now. 

Ripped Apart and other Sweet!s of the Week

A collection of colorful bags and pieces of luggage grows beside me. Today's the day I take TG back to campus to start the spring semester. Wasn't it just a few days ago that we carried all of those bags down from the car?

Christmas break went by so fast. At the beginning of it I had two kids at home; soon it will be just me and Tom again. Sweet, yet bittersweet.

Sweet because, luckily, Tom and I enjoy being together - we easily fall back into our pre-kids selves. Bittersweet because I enjoy having the kids around, too, and not only for all the help they give us with dishes, dog care, laundry... although I do miss that, too.

This might have been the last long break TG spends with us. By this time next year, she'll be living in an apartment, probably working near campus through the break, coming home for a weekend every now and then. Sigh.

I'll take it a semester at a time, though, and right now I just pray this one will be the best ever for her.

Well, while I wait for her to finish packing, I'll tell you a little about my day yesterday, spent in the World of Writers.

I finally made it to a meeting of the Austin Chapter of the SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writer's and Illustrators) held at BookPeople, a wonderful independent book store in downtown Austin. I don't think I've every met a friendlier group of strangers in my life - the support and encouragement was palpable!

I sat in the only open chair I spotted,  After introductions, I discovered the woman beside me, as well as the two directly behind me, all live just a few miles from me and are eager to form a writer's critique group.Talk about serendipity!

The first session of the meeting was a presentation by author Brian Yansky on plot, character and structure of your story. Some of it was knew to me... some I already know but don't necessarily put into practice... and that's why I need reminders like this, especially from successful authors who are willing to share what has worked for them. Judging by the others who were scribbling notes, I'm not the only one!

Next, a few of us went to the third floor for the open critique group... the part I had been most eager for! I passed out copies of my first two pages, cleared my throat, took a deep breath and read out loud while they followed along.

When I finished, I could see they were hesitant, not sure if I wanted brutal honesty or encouraging pats-on-the-back.

"Rip it apart!" I told them. I've read too many books lately that began with seeds of great stories, but because of neglected pruning, had grown into huge distracting messes. I don't want mine to end up that way!

So with my blessing they ripped it apart, so to speak. Some of what they mentioned I had already wondered about myself, but needed another opinion... which is why I was eager for the critique group. Other things were surprises, and so even more helpful.

A critique can be painful if you take it personally, but I look at it as a really good workout... tough to get through but so invigorating and energizing when it's all over... and the only way to get stronger.

We took turns reading and critiquing, everyone offering concrete constructive comments. Writer heaven!

After a quick break (I walked to Whole Foods and enjoyed a cup of tomato basil soup at a small table outside, great for people-watching!) we gathered on the third floor again. Two of the members had attended a recent Story Masters Workshop where they took pages and pages of notes, all of which they shared with us. 

Spending a day with such a great group of talented writers (many published authors in the group) who encourage and support each other... very sweet!

And now for some other sweet! moments of the past week... 

 

Monday: a fire in the woodburning stove on a cold, rainy day; cedar pollen that's been attacking your nose and making you want to scratch our your eyes washed from the air by the rain; finally meeting a previously only 'online' friend in person; loose ends neatly tied up; joining a writer's group, at long last, to help you with your book 

Tuesday: the moment when dark clouds break apart to reveal blue sky; frogs singing in the distance, grateful for the recent rain; watching "The 10th Kingdom" with your daughter; cell phones that allow you to talk to your mom and your dear friend, despite the miles between you

 

 

Wednesday: $300 worth of free jewelry, thanks to your party!; a Post of the Week award from Hilary for one of your photography posts; that sparkling-clean-teeth feeling you get after a trip to the dentist; a jingle-jangle in your pocket for stuff you didn't want anymore anyway  

Thursday: getting word that a sweet kid you know was found before you even knew he was missing; scratching things off of your list; finally fulfilling a months-old promise to a friend

Friday: a "Happy Anniversary" first thing in the morning from you sweetie before you even realize it's Friday the 13th; puppies stretched out comfy and warm on the laundry room floor on a below-freezing morning; shopping with your baby girl; getting $17 for from a local resale shop for things you were going to toss out; any Ryan Reynolds movie

Saturday: a day spent with writers; getting honest feedback and suggestions on your children's book-in-progress; tomato and basil soup outdoors on a gorgeous day; a walk at dusk beside a running brook; home-brewed beer; watching Harry Potter movies with your daughter

Sunday: a friend thinking of you when a job comes open; watching more Harry Potter movies with your daughter; a call from your mom

What were some of your sweet! moments in the past week? (I know you can come up with at least one!) Please share them here!

Ben's Story... When the Fantasy Ends and Heaven Begins

Ben Breedlove, an Austin teenager, died Christmas night. 

I didn't know him personally; in fact, I had never heard of him until this week. 

But after watching the videos below, I know I won't forget him or his sweet smile.

Ben had a heart condition called Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy; according to his videos, he had cheated death three times. The first time, when he was 4, he says he saw a bright light and felt a peace he never forgot. The second time...

...well, Ben tells it much better than I can. I urge you to watch these - the total time is less than 8 minutes, but if you're like me, it will be 8 minutes you'll carry with you the rest of your life, whether you remember the name Ben Breedlove or not.

(You can read Ben's obituary HERE.)

God's Little People

The world is a much smaller place than it used to be for me, thanks to blogging. I've connected with amazing people in so many different countries.

Through one of them  - Joan at God's Little People - I've become aware of the overabundance of stray cats in Greece. Joan is devoted to rescuing them, and her stories and photos both break and warm my heart.

After many of her readers asked how they could help with her rescue efforts, she came up with a fundraising idea: 

I am delighted to introduce these quality cards made from a selection of my favorite images of the cats that I have rescued and I love the idea of them now being part of raising funds for themselves. These cards are now listed in my Etsy shop and ALL proceeds goes towards food, neutering and medical care for all the cats (and the dumpster cats I daily feed). Winter has set in and feral cats just keeps dropping into the garden and I've finally given up counting the numbers! But I now daily feed approximately 45 cats and as you can imagine the cost constantly rise and I won't compromise on the quality of food. Many of the cats that live in the wild desperately needs a proper food to keep them warm. 

You can donate/purchase in the following way:

One large blank card with a colored image mounted on carton (that enhances the colors in the image)for $5  or a set of three small blank cards with black/white images mounted on black carton (and a white paper slip inside for your message) for $10. 

Whether it's one large card or a small set of three cards - they all come with white envelopes and a label on the back with the  Pythagoras quote I use under my blog title: "We share with animals the privilege of having a soul." Cards and envelopes are neatly tied with a burlap string and carefully wrapped in tissue paper. 

 

Visit Joan's Etsy Shop HERE and read more about Joan and her cats (including precious images of them) HERE.

(I'm not compensated for this post in any way except for the good feeling of potentially helping Joan help those sweet kittens.)

The Glad Game

My sweet sister, the very one who is still recovering from hip surgery and lives daily with Parkinson's, found out this week she has glaucoma. To treat it and save her eyesight, she'll need to put drops in her eyes every day for the rest of her life.

Listen to what she told me about it: "I read that if you have blue or green eyes, the drops might turn your eyes brown! I've always wanted brown eyes! And another side effect is that it will turn your eyelashes dark and thick. So now I'll have beautiful dark eyes!"

That's my sister.

She lives her life playing "The Glad Game". Like Pollyanna, (which we call her!) she is always able to find something good in every situation.

It took awhile, but her optimistic attitude finally started rubbing off on me, and oh my gosh, what a relief it is to recognize those blessings that are tucked into bad news.  

Playing the Glad Game isn't just about helping ourselves get through tough times, though. The best thing about it is how your joy and gratitude is contagious. It might be just the inspiration - the shining light - someone else needs to find their way out of personal darkness... pain, illness, loss of a loved one, discouragement, anger, financial problems...

There's so much potential darkness in this world trying to blind us to all that we have to be grateful for.

"...give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for us in Christ Jesus." 1 Thess. 5:18

I remember groaning when I read Corrie Ten Boom's description of the flea infestation in the concentration camp bunkroom, enough to turn their skin black when they entered the area to sleep, and I agreed with her that there was nothing about fleas to be grateful for. But urged by her sister Betsy (another Pollyanna-type, obviously), Corrie reluctantly told God thank you for the fleas.

When I read a little further how she realized it was because of the fleas that the guards wouldn't step foot in the bunkroom, allowing them freedom to hold prayer sessions and Bible readings and comfort each other through those dark days, a little light went on in my mind.

I'm grateful I was able to read their story - I'm grateful for that little light that now reminds me how, when something bad happens (and there are bad things - those fleas were bad!) God can squeeze something good out of the worst of things.

I'm reminded to give thanks in all circumstances, even if, like Corrie with the fleas, I'm not sure exactly why.

I'm still not as good with the Glad Game as my sister is, but I promise to keep practicing. I hope you'll play along. I think you'll like it.

Hope you have a blessed Thanksgiving!

 

Mama Taught Me... (Lesson #80)

Today is my mother's 80th birthday. 

A few years ago, in honor of her 77th birthday, I started compiling a list of things she has taught me. Each year since then, on her birthday, I've added to it. 

This year, I've had trouble with #80. Not trouble coming up with something - if my mother lives to be 1000 I could come up with something every year because I'm still learning from her. My problem has been narrowing it down to one thing.

I thought of Keep it simple when she insisted on celebrating with a quiet family dinner at Sudie's Catfish House, followed by cake at the house, instead of the big celebration with friends and extended family that my sister and I wanted to throw her.

I thought of Be someone others can depend on when I opened my eyes this morning in what used to be my grandmother's room in my parents' house, remembering how she moved in with us when I was two and, except for a few years, lived with Mama and Daddy until her death. It wasn't always an easy situation, but my mother was willing to make the sacrifice because she knew her mother needed her.

The colorful cards standing in formation on the sideboard, proclaiming happy birthday wishes from her kids, lifelong friends, nieces and nephews reinforced that one, reminding me of all the times over the years family dropped in unexpected or called for her advice. She never hesitated helping anyone.

She isn't a pushover - woe to anyone who tries to take advantage of her.  If someone is in need, they can count on her. I can't begin to count the ways or times she's caught me from falling. And after my sister's hip surgery this year, sheer love and determination gave Mama the strength to care for her.

I thought about how she has a way of seeing through a person, an ability to overlook flaws and see the good, and I remembered this quote:

“A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.” ~ George Eliot

That's my mother. She's been hurt and disappointed by people, but she doesn't hold one person's sins against another, and she's quick to forgive (if there's sincere repentance.)

The thing is, my mother is all of these things. She's dependable. She's forgiving. She loves with all her heart.

In essence, she knows people are more important than things. Her actions, her life, have always reflected this.

Thank you for all you do and for who you are, Mama! Happy birthday! I love you!

 

Things Mama has taught me...

1. it's never too late to learn something new
2. if you have a choice between laughter and tears, choose laughter.
3. don't let anyone mess with your babies!
4. only give advice when asked for it (I'm still working on that one)
5. pray every day
6. pray some more
7. reading a good book might not solve your problems, but it's a nice escape from them
8. bend but never break
9. some people are just takers
10. be nice whenever possible, but sometimes nice doesn't cut it
11. take care of family
12. we're all individuals - let your kids blossom into themselves, not "mini-me's"
13. be there
14. Johnny Weismuller is the best movie Tarzan
15. don't be in a rush to be older than you are - you're only going to be this age once in your life
16. if you like something, and you'll use it, and you can afford it, then buy it, or you'll regret it later
17. quality over quantity
18. never think "can't"
19. people will stand in line for a dead skunk if it's free
20. roll with the punches
21. have fun
22. laugh often
23. believe in yourself
24. don't let others change who you are
25. be honest
26. don't steal
27. forgive yourself
28. God loves me
29. don't judge
30. just do it!
31. inside matters more than outside
32. don't use God's name in vain
33. you can learn anything if you put your mind to it
34. you're never too old to dance
35. it's okay to ask for help
36. show appreciation and express gratitude
37. use my manners
38. consider the source
39. an office or position of authority should be respected, but the individual in that position has to earn your respect
40. sleep is good
41. take advantage of opportunities
42. keep your eyes open and your wits about you
43. people aren't always nice
44. things can't make you happy
45. use your imagination
46. just get started and the rest will be easy
47. don't be intimidated by anyone - we're all the same, all human, we all have strengths and weaknesses
48. you can love someone even if you don't like them
49. forgive but don't forget
50. learn from others' mistakes
51. there are times for being patient, and time for putting your foot down
52. speak up
53. stand up for what you believe in
54. admit your mistakes and expect others to do the same
55. persistance pays off
56. let your kids be kids
57. love unconditionally
58. take lots of pictures
59. kids grow up fast
60. your kids need a mother, not another friend
61. pets are family
62. help others
63. a sense of humor is essential for sanity and survival
64. if you look close enough, you can find something to love about everyone
65. coffee is good anytime
66. messes can be cleaned up
67. prayer works
68. God is strong all the time - let him carry you
69. if you say you're going to do something, do it
70. be nice to yourself in case no one else is
71. you have to show respect to get respect
72. girls are tough
73. don't put up with temper tantrums
74. listen to your body - doctors don't know everything
75. don't say everything you're thinking
76. asking questions is the best way to learn something
77. your babies are always your babies (and their babies are your babies, too!)
78. God is. 
79. Just listen. 
80. People are more important than things.
    

 

 

 

"It was the thing to do..." (Thank you, Veterans!)

"Lord, if your people need me, I will not refuse the work. Your will be done."

~St. Martin of Tours

 

 

My big brother Buster was headed to Viet Nam, saying his goodbyes, when I stood beside him in this photograph and smiled. I had no idea what was ahead of him. This was probably taken before his first tour of duty and so he had only a vague idea himself what to expect.

When he volunteered for his second tour, however, he knew full well what he was stepping into...but he did it anyway. 

 

 

My dad was in high school when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. He joined the Navy soon after high school graduation because his country was at war and "it was the thing to do." In the next twenty-two months he traveled a long way from Texas aboard the U.S.S. Geneva...to places like the Philippines, the Marshall Islands, China, Burma, Japan.

Before he turned twenty, he had seen cities that had been destroyed by war and piles of dead bodies waiting to be buried. 

A few years later, his little brother Bobby followed his lead and joined the Navy, and many years later, so did my brother Donnie and two nephews.

 

Pop, my wonderful father-in-law, missed out on World War II, but joined the Air Force in time for the Korean War. He worked base supply in Okinawa, supporting bombers flying missions to Korea...about 100 aircraft every day.

He re-enlisted, got married, and hopped around the globe...living in England, Germany, and over a year in Pakistan, separated from his family (the other heroes - Mom had 8 teenage and younger boys to deal with by herself!)...visiting a dozen other countries...eventually staying put for awhile in Maryland, working with NSA (and a second job at the bowling alley to make ends meet), until his retirement.

A lifetime of service and sacrifice for this country.

 

 

My husband Tom was raised in a military family. For him it was normal to move every few years to someplace completely different...by the time he was eight or nine years old, he had lived in three countries!

He grew up on a tight budget - hand-me-downs, powdered milk and only two cookies a day...period! And yet as soon as he could he joined the service...the Coast Guard. Among other things, he helped rescue fisherman off the coast of Alaska.

Four of his brothers also joined the service (three career Air Force, just like their dad, and another Coast Guard) and the youngest joined the Army Reserves. Now the next generation is following in their footsteps: two Air Force and one Coast Guard...and even marrying other service members!

I think it's very fitting that Veterans Day shares November with Thanksgiving, a day when we slow down to remember and be grateful for things that we usually take for granted, because veterans, despite the sacrifices they make for all of us, probably don't even make it onto our Thanksgiving thank-you list.

That's how much most of us take them for granted - as well as the freedoms they protect for us. Even when our country isn't at war, they go where they are needed to unfamiliar places, away from extended family, often living on a minimum salary. To many, they are a symbol of war, not peace, and sadly become targets of derision, scorn, blame... and even violence, like the sad incident at Ft. Hood a few years ago.

They deserve to be thanked every day of the year. A friend of mine says that when he's in a restaurant and sees a man or woman in uniform, he secretly pays their bill. What a wonderful idea! I think more of us should go out of our way every day to show our appreciation, but I'm glad there is at least one special day where we shine a spotlight on them, remember their sacrifices and make clear our gratitude.

Thank you Daddy, Tom, Pop, Buster, Donnie, Uncle Bobby, Uncle Howard, Kenny, Steve, Joe, Robbie, John, Sheila, Michael, Tom, Lynn, Robbin, Evan...and all of the other Veterans, past and present, out there! Because of you, we're free to go about our daily lives, without a thought in the world to how much that freedom costs.

But let's hope we do remember the price, as well as those who, through their actions, say "Don't worry. I got this."

(If this sounds familiar, it's a re-post from last year and the year before, with just a few tweeks.)

 

Love at First Bark

I start almost every morning with a walk down my dirt road with Belle and Max. Their joie de vivre is palpable. Contagious.

I'm addicted to these walks, to watching my "puppies" greet each new day with passion and energy and optimism. 

Max and Belle were both strays who wandered up to strange houses with a dog's pure faith they would be helped. At the time each of them entered our lives, I didn't think I wanted any more dogs. Too expensive, too constraining of our time, too much heartbreak when they die.

Now I give thanks every morning and several times during the day - well, anytime I look into those big brown eyes - that God brought these little black and brown angels into our lives. He knew just what we needed.

He always does. And Max and Belle remind me of that every day.

 

When I was young, the sight of a stray dog broke my heart. Molded by stories like "Black Beauty", "Old Yeller" and "Call of the Wild", where animals struggle to find a good home,  I dreamed that when I grew up, I'd own a ranch where I could take in every stray I found.

Well, I grew up. The cost for housing, food and medical issues alone for that dream to come true snapped me back to reality. It didn't help that I'm allergic to animals. I'd need a fortune just to buy all that Benadryl.

So you can see why I jumped at the chance to review ("read for free") Julie Klam's book Love at First Bark, for the BlogHer Book Club, especially when the subtitle read "How Saving a Dog Can Sometimes Help You Save Yourself".

I know how true that statement is, that dogs can help you save yourself...

Max came along just when my oldest headed off to college and the other two were close on his heels. Did you know that a goofy German Shepherd-Great Dane puppy is very similar to a 4-year-old? Max became my perpetual 4-year-old and eagerly accepted all the baby talk and (s)mothering attention my human kids had outgrown, making my transition to Empty Nest so much easier. 

Belle came along just in time to save Max, who was despondent after our old dog Charly's death. She revived the "puppy" in him. (Saving Max = saving me. Thank you, Belle!)

However, except for the first chapter where Julie describes how helping an abandoned pit bull essentially saved her marriage, the rest of the book just relates different dog rescues. It's a good book, peppered with Julie's humor, but it didn't grab me the way I thought it would. It felt passive and inconsistent, sort of rushed. 

What keeps it a "good" book in my opinion, and why I believe it's worth reading, is the well-deserved recognition it gives to unsung heroes around the country who are essentially living my dream of helping stray dogs, either through rescues or by adoption or foster care.

Before reading this, I didn't have a clue there were so many organizations (all understaffed and underfunded, of course) and individuals who go miles out of their way to help. Hearing the lengths they go to just to rescue one dog is inspiring. Kudos to Julie and all of the others who do this regularly, who think nothing of adding an incontinent dog to their already large collection of pooches or run through a swamp and duck under a train to help a stray with a jar stuck on its head.

So if you want information about dog rescues or rescuers, I recommend it. But if you're hoping for heartwarming, life-changing stories that send you scrambling for a box of tissue, look somewhere else... after you read the first chapter about Morris the Pit Bull, that is.

Full Disclosure: I was compensated for this BlogHer Book Club review but all opinions expressed are my own.

When Wishes Come True (Happy birthday, Daddy!)

I gripped Daddy's hand as we crossed the parking lot and stepped into the tall building.  To my right and left tall counters rimmed the room but I ignored them; all of my attention was focused on the fountain straight ahead.

We crossed the spacious lobby together. Daddy's bank business would wait - we had a routine. First things first.

He jingled the change in his pocket, pulled out a handful of coins and handed me a penny, first checking it for the wheat symbol. Those went in a special jar at home.

I went up the steps to the edge of the fountain, mesmerized by the changing colors in the spraying water. Liquid gemstones... blue, red, orange, green. Coins glittered below, scattered across tiny tiles under the surface of the shallow pool, reflecting whatever hue had its turn at the moment.

Closing my eyes, I whispered a wish and tossed my penny into the air, then watched as it splashed and floated down, down, down to join the others. 

I don't remember any of the wishes I made on those pennies so long ago, but I'd like to think at least one of them was to continue making special memories like that with my Daddy for a long, long time.

Because if I wished that, then that's a wish come true.

Today is Daddy's 85th birthday. Just a few weeks ago he was in the hospital having test after test after test run, trying to figure out why his foot refused to follow orders any longer. Nothing definitive was ever pinpointed, so when he was well enough, they let him go home. 

Now, I'm no doctor, but I still suspect it had something to do with him chopping up a tree trunk in the backyard and carrying the chunks out to the curb in the front yard... in 100+ degree temperatures. His foot probably just went on strike!

You'll see from the post I wrote last year for his 84th birthday (below) he hasn't changed much in a year. In fact, I think I'm aging much faster than he is.  I hope I take after him and have the gumption to chop up a tree trunk when I'm 85!

Happy birthday, Daddy! I love you and can't wait to watch you blow out 85 candles tomorrow evening!

*******************************************************************

(last year's post... with just a few changes in the photos...)

Blowing a birthday kiss to my Daddy!

Today's my Daddy's 84th birthday.

He complains about this or that, like not being able to think of the word he needs that's on the tip of his tongue, or not having the energy he used to have... but these are things I'm already dealing with!

He's got scars from top to bottom, thanks to heart surgeries, aneurysm surgeries, plus a few other minor and not-so-minor operations... he has to check his blood sugar and his blood pressure every day... he can't eat everything he wants to like he used to, like eggs and bacon and ice cream... but he can still grab a shovel and pluck a stray baby loquat tree from the ground for me... he can jump up from his chair a zillion times a day to give one of their spoiled squirrels a peanut... he can refill the bird feeder, empty the trash, drive to the corner store for his lotto ticket, and do his share of the housework.

 

In my mind he has never aged.

When I think of him, I see him smiling his devilish grin... maybe humming and doing a little dance across the kitchen floor. I can hear his sweet voice, Time to wake up, Barbara... and his dead-on impersonation of an evil laugh. Mwaa-haa-haa.

I see him jumping rope, showing me how to do push-ups against the kitchen counter, playing ping-pong, swinging a golf club (grumbling) and a tennis racket.

He's beside me at the Sears candy counter, buying us some warm cashews or malted milk balls... in the car at the drive-in theater, watching westerns... in the living room, watching Dark Shadows... at our square dance lessons, do-si-do-ing... at my babies' baptisms, holding them close as only a grandfather can... at the zoo, helping me keep my young brood together.

He's handing me Black Beauty or Call of the Wild or something from Leon Uris, and tucking yet another paperback into his metal lunchbox.

He's in the driver's seat, shuttling me and my friends to the movies and basketball games... he's in the passenger seat, letting me practice behind the wheel.

He's painting an orange and yellow lattice on my bedroom ceiling... he's painting a large fluorescent orange circle on my ceiling... he's painting my furniture royal blue. 

He's mowing the grass, wiping the sweat off of his brow with a little golf towel, taking a small break to chug some orange juice and then getting back to work. He's helping me plant beans in the sand pile and sunflowers beside the utility building.

I could go on and on and on... each memory triggers an avalanche of more.

I know I'm blessed to be able to still add to them, and to say "Happy birthday, Daddy! Thank you for all of these wonderful memories! I love you!"

 

Steve Jobs: Live Before You Die

I rarely watch videos (who has time?) but made an exception for this one.

By the end of it, I was in tears.

His words spoke straight to me as much as to those kids just stepping into their lives.

I'm starting my day with a renewed vow not to waste another minute.

Thanks, Steve, for your vision, your drive, your creativity, your courage and for your inspiring words.  

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

~Steve Jobs

 

 

                 

To my mom and dad with love

 

Thank you for the love you have for each other, a love that has survived life's firing, its ups and downs, joys and heartbreaks.

That looks past each other's idiosyncrasies and irritations into your hearts where love lies, releasing it to color everything you do with affection and patience.

Thank you for your strength, your humor, your honesty, your compassion, your generosity and unselfishness that reaches out to each of us and holds us close no matter the physical distance.

I am blessed.

Happy 62nd wedding anniversary, Mama and Daddy! I love you!

 

When you're down and troubled...

"...and you need a helping hand. And nothing, nothing is going right..."

 

"Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there..."

I covered for our church secretary yesterday afternoon so she could keep a doctor's appointment. It doesn't pay much, but sitting in her chair even for a short time I sense the pulse of our parish in a way that's impossible to feel from just attending weekly Mass and dropping a check or two in the offering plate.

In the two hours I sat there yesterday afternoon, two people approached our church for assistance. First, an elderly woman called, needing help with paying her rent. I gave her the number for our St. Vincent de Paul Society because that's what they do, help people in our parish with electric bills, rent, doctor's bills, you name it. If someone calls who isn't in our parish, they let them know where to turn.

Soon afterward, a young man stepped into the foyer, his face wearing a mixture of desperation, hope, gratitude, anxiety and relief. He had contacted SVP but missed the return call from our member and came up to the church, hoping to find her there. Even though I wasn't the person he sought, he thanked me and blessed me anyway, patting my arm in gratitude, tears edging the corners of his eyes.

"... to brighten up even your darkest night. You just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come running to see you again. Winter, spring, summer or fall...all you have to do is call, and I'll be there. You've got a friend."

I didn't know the young man. I'm not sure if he's a member of our church or not - the St. Vincent de Paul Society does their best to help all in need regardless of their beliefs.

But I imagined him to be a young father trying to help his family, responsibility and love overcoming any feelings of shame he felt for having to ask for help. Or maybe he was a son, trying to get help for his elderly parents.

All I know is, before heading up to the church, I had to sit and pay some bills before late charges were tacked on and the gloom cast by our dwindling bank account still lingered in my heart knowing there were still more to pay today.

Yet witnessing the desperate hope and gratitude of this young man, I immediately gave thanks myself that, dwindling funds or not, at least I had money to pay them.  

 "If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds and that old north wind begins to blow, keep your head together and call my name out loud. Soon, you'll hear me knocking at your door."

Then I remembered the twenty raffle tickets I shoved in my purse two weeks ago. Our parish's annual Oktoberfest is coming up on October 8 and the proceeds, including those from the raffle tickets, help fund our St. Vincent de Paul Society, as well as our other church organizations, like the Women's Guild that, among other things, provides school supplies for low-income families and Easter baskets for nursing home residents.

Despite good intentions to start peddling those raffle tickets right away, they're still right where I shoved them, buried in the bottom of my purse, along with forgotton pennies, crumpled gas receipts and those good intentions.

If I could, I would just buy them all myself, plus some, but I can't. I'll buy a couple, but starting today, with the old women's voice and the young man's face in my mind, I'm peddling the heck out of the rest of them to everyone I meet, starting with you.

I hope I sell so many I have to run up to the church for more!

So here's the deal. For a $10 ticket, you get a chance at 5 different prizes and you don't have to be present to win.

1st prize - $5000 gift card
2nd prize - Maid service for 1 year (or equivalent value gift card of $3000)
3rd prize - Apple iPad 2 (or equivalent value gift card of $800)
4th prize - American Girl Doll or Electric Scooter (estimated value $450)
5th prize - Weber Performance Charcoal Grill (or equivalent value gift card of $450)

I confess that in all the years I've been buying and selling these tickets, I've never won and neither have the people I've sold them to. But I keep hoping - that's what these tickets are all about, right? Giving hope?

If you're interested in buying one or two or twenty, e-mail me at barbarashallue (at) yahoo (dot) com and I'll let you know how to get your ticket or tickets. But whether or not you buy any, please say a prayer that enough money is raised to help all of those who will need it in the coming year. 

"Ain't it good to know you've got a friend when people can be so cold. They'll hurt you and desert you...and take your soul if you let them...oh, but don't you let them. You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am, I'll come running to see you again.

Winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call, and I'll be there.

You've got a friend."

~Carole King

*************************************************

 This is actually Part 2 of a post from 2009, where I wrote "Even before the economy took its latest nose dive, thousands were laid off from their jobs, and the sun went on overtime, there were many among us who were already struggling." 

The need itself never ends, does it? Next year I'm sure I'll be writing a Part 3.

(click HERE to see the whole post.)

 

*************************************

Oktoberfest itself is a lot of small town fun (you know, a carnival for the children, a country store, silent auction, turkey legs, music, a German dinner, bingo) so if you're in the area, come on over!

Here are the details: 

Saturday October 8 from 8am to 7pm at St. Mary Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church (6100 Lohman Ford Rd. Lago Vista, Texas, 78645.)

**** Admission is free, but full disclosure: our motive is to Raise Money! ***** 

Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.

~ 1 John 4:11

 

 

Each Day

Lord, take me where you want me to go;
Let me meet who you want me to meet;
Tell me what you want me to say; and
Keep me out of your way.

- Fr. Mychal Judge, FDNY (died 9/11/01)

 

This morning, while thousands of names were solemnly read, one by one, at Ground Zero, two babies were baptized in our church.

This evening I'll help celebrate a dear friend's birthday with Mexican food and margaritas.

In between, I've been remembering...

Ten years ago I was one of millions watching in disbelief as our country came under attack. Do you remember that feeling as we pulled together in the days that followed? We changed the way we did things, for sure, but we kept on living our lives, refusing to let our attackers control us with fear. 

Living each day, deliberately and free. Remembering but moving forward, only leaving room for light and happiness and love. That's our victory.

 

"...Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve.

America was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining.

Today, our nation saw evil, the very worst of human nature, and we responded with the best of America, with the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbors who came to give blood and help in any way they could..."

~President George W. Bush

 

 

Horizons

 

Disturb us, Lord, when

 We are too well pleased with ourselves,

 When our dreams have come true

 Because we have dreamed too little,

 When we arrived safely

 Because we sailed too close to the shore.

- Sir Francis Drake

I have a map in my mind, with huge circles drawn around several destinations. I've charted the journey, made lists of things I need to take with me, things I need to do in preparation and started crossing items off.

 But as time goes by without losing sight of land, I fear I'm satisfied with the Idea of a Journey and that I'll never actually get the nerve to set sail on the wide sea.

I fear indecision will keep me drifting close to shore, where pretty distractions make me forget about my dreams or news of potential storms make me afraid of heading into unknown waters.

Or if I do manage to jump aboard my boat and head for sea, I fear I've plotted the wrong path.

So this little prayer from Sir Francis is a good reminder to keep moving forward and not get too caught up in the details.

At some point, if you want to arrive at your destination, you have to pull up the anchor, pull Faith onboard, wave Doubt goodby and just go, right?

Wish me luck!

(These thoughts were inspired by THIS POST by Baron Batch - if you're facing a storm or a journey into the unknown, I recommend reading it!)

 (the rest of Sir Francis's prayer...)

Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.

- Sir Francis Drake

Detours (and my Friday Favorite Photo)

This has been one crazy, zig-zagging, bouncing, stretching-myself-across-so-many-things-I-think-I'm-going-to-pop kind of week. One of those weeks where everything is high priority and you just can't procrastinate any longer. So you just do it all, period, and try your best to get some sleep.

Things like a writing deadline, a book review deadline, a contact list to compile and a group email that had to go out, a BlogHer assignment, a Parish Council meeting, eye doctor appointments x 3 of us, my car inspected, our anniversary looming, my sister's birthday, a dozen blog posts swirling in my head waiting to be born, a new FlickR project, my refrigerator filter glowing orange, watering a friend's plants while she's out of town plus trying to keep our own alive...

Whew.

All of this on top of my two day jobs (weekday and weekend) overlapping so I have only one day off in 9 days right on the heels of a quick trip out of town to a wedding. 

I confess I didn't even think about housework of any kind this week or do more than glance at my three-page to-do list. 

If it weren't for Tom, TG and Daniel helping with cooking, laundry and whatever I ask them to do around here, I really would have popped, I'm sure.

Of course, it's not over yet. I work both days this week at the Bistro; we celebrate our anniversary tomorrow night (we're thinking dessert at Sonic at sunset); reading and writing deadlines still loom, the filter light still gives me an orange wink every time I open the fridge door, my car still isn't inspected (shhh! don't tell!), I haven't started the FlickR project, and my laundry is overflowing...

But the good news is I'll have time to take care of most of these starting Monday. The bad news is it's because one of my jobs ended, which means one of my paychecks. The good news is that means I'll have more time to focus on my book and my businesses, and I'll still be moderating the Jobs4Autism website.

I haven't decided if I've come to another detour in my life or if I'm actually stepping back onto the main road. I've taken so many detours I'm not even sure what the main road looks like anymore. Some detours were results of my own decisions; some just plopped down from no where, forcing me to veer in a new direction.

I came across this on a blog today, written by Baron Batch, a Texas Tech to Pittsburgh Steelers football player/writer:

"The funny thing about all roads is that at some point they all have potholes, speed bumps and detours. However, the durability of your vehicle is what allows you to reach your destination regardless of your traveling conditions."

Baron's post is a tribute to his faith and a reminder of the value of detours in our life. Instead of playing in his first NFL game this week, he tore his ACL. He writes...

"Trying to understand Gods plan will bring insanity, trusting it brings peace."

So much wisdom in one so young! I aspire to have that kind of faith and pray my kids do, too. I hope we all have durable vehicles! (I wish I could be confident that when my own kids face detours in their lives, when things go wrong as they always will, they hear my voice whispering, "Have faith, have faith.")

 

And now for my Friday Favorite Photo!

I picked this one of Max because...

a) it's taken with my new 50mm lens! and 

b) he's eating! 

(He stopped eating for awhile last weekend when we were gone. Got me so worried! Dang dogs.)

Now that I think of it, Max himself was a detour. We had decided we weren't going to have any more dogs. Then that starving puppy wandered up and stole our hearts...

Hope you've had a wonderful week... hope you have a great weekend...  and hope you look at the detours in your life as opportunities rather than bad luck.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

Portrait of a Sister

How do people make it through life without a sister? 

~Sara Corpening

I've asked myself this question so many times and always felt a twinge of guilt that TG doesn't have a sister, even though she's got two great brothers.

Because I truly can't imagine how different, how empty and downright dull my life would have been without my big sister in it.

In the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips. 

~Author Unknown

Brenda added drama and conflict to my life (fighting over the state of our bedroom)... enriched it with literature (sharing her books with me, like Swiss Family Robinson and Pollyanna and Jane Eyre)... expanded my world (taking me to museums, the zoo and movies I probably shouldn't be seeing)... and gave me a great soundtrack (exposing me to the best from the 60's and 70's.)

Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other. 

~Carol Saline

Well, she was certainly there for me. If I ever had a problem, I knew she'd be right by my side, no matter how much I'd irritated her seconds before.

The mildest, drowsiest sister has been known to turn tiger if her sibling is in trouble. 

~Clara Ortega

Oh, here's another good one that truly applies to Brenda and me...

When sisters stand shoulder to shoulder, who stands a chance against us? 

~Pam Brown

You don't want to test that, believe me. It could get ugly. We're formidable.

That being said, we're not just alike. Sure, we both like reciting Little Boy Blue and watching old movies. We share the same taste in books (just about anything) and enjoy visiting museums, no matter how small. 

But she's always been a 'dress' person. A girly-girl. I'm jeans or shorts, definitely a tom-boy. She knew all about coloring hair and curlers. I'm totally hair-inept.

I tend to make mountains out of mole hills while she refuses to even acknowledge mountains exist.

She truly has the most positive outlook of anyone I've ever known. 

Sisters are different flowers from the same garden. 

~Author Unknown

By example, Brenda taught me about love and acceptance, about appreciating the eccentricities that each of us on this earth has, about the importance of family connections, about looking on the bright side. We had our share of spats and arguments, but as I grew they dwindled, dried up and drifted away into childhood memories and stories.

An older sister is a friend and defender - a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights.  And sorrows too. 

~Pam Brown

She doesn't hesitate to correct me if my facts are a little awry when I relate those memories and stories here on my blog, or I misspell a word. But as she's my biggest fan and cheerleader in whatever I attempt to do, I know not to take it as criticism. She's just burdened with a better memory and writing/spelling skills than I have!

A sister smiles when one tells one's stories - for she knows where the decoration has been added. 

~Chris Montaigne

She turned 60 today, a number that is hard for me to grasp because in my eyes and heart, she hasn't aged a day in my life.

I didn't get to wish her a happy birthday face-to-face this year as I did last year. In fact, it's been months since I've seen her sweet face in person. 

But I called her this morning and now I'll wish her a happy birthday here (I know she'll read it eventually, even though right now she's off gambling in Louisiana in honor of this milestone year. Last I heard she was winning! I'm glad she's having fun and celebrating big!)

So once again, happy birthday, my beautiful sister! I didn't always appreciate you like I should when I was little, but now I thank God, Mama and Daddy every day for blessing my life with you! Have fun and I hope you cleaned out the casino! 

Sister to sister we will always be,
A couple of nuts off the family tree.

~Author Unknown

And proud of it! I love you!

There is no better friend than a sister.  And there is no better sister than you. 

~Author Unknown

Shadows and Light

 

On Death
 ~Kahlil Gibran

You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.


In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?


For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?


Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

 

The second I became a mother, I also gave birth to the fear of losing my child.

I'm blessed that it has remained just a fear, not a reality; only an inkling of the actual pain, like dipping your toe into a cold lake versus falling completely into its frigid depths, staring up at the sunlight but unable to feel its warmth.

I realize I'm just three heartbeats away from that pain, but I've grown used to the fear. I sense it there, just around the corner, a shadow cast by the light of the living, but I don't dwell on its presence or let it control me or even worry me. What's the use? I'd rather focus on the light.

But there are times I'm reminded of its nearness, and how blessed I am that it has remained around the corner. This week has been one of them.

The deaths of our Navy Seals... the riots in London... a friend whose mother's cancer has returned, this time with no hope of another remission, only an hourglass running out of sand. 

So much sadness. Each one affected, someone's child. Someone's parent. Or sibling, lover, friend.

On Facebook a page popped up I'd forgotten about, created as a place to remember students and faculty from our high school who had passed.

I posted my class's "In Memorium" list. (At our reunions, we light a candle, then I read the list out loud, followed by a few moments of silence in memory of those we've lost.) Right away classmates popped up, reminding me of several others I needed to add. 

My heart protests that we're too young to have lost this many - too many- but my brain reminds me of our age. Ah, yes. Not so young. Those we lost early on were someone's sibling, someone's child, but these recent ones are also someone's mother, father, wife, husband, grandmother, grandfather. 

Last night I stayed up late, compiling a spreadsheet of names. I'm helping organize a reunion for people I worked with 30 years ago and one of my co-workers sent me several lists of names from way back then. 

The names floated out to me from mists of the past, bringing with them memories that had drifted out of reach, forgotten. Memories of days spent in a hard hat, sweating in the pipe alleys, laughing and eating popcorn in the control room, freezing in the lab. 

Too many names are already marked "deceased."

I sent the revised list out via email today - responses flowed back, informing me of updates: emails, phone numbers and more who have died before we had a chance to see them again.

This past Sunday, Father Don talked about fear, about trusting God. I know I've been lucky - I lost my brother Buster, my grandparents, my pets who felt like children, but I know so far I've been spared the true anguish that comes from losing a child, a parent, a spouse. Those who are pieces of you. 

The thing is, none of us can escape this pain. We can try by not letting ourselves get close to others, by trying not to love, but that's a living death, isn't it, living without loving?

I believe God will support me through that inevitable pain. I believe he will soothe and comfort me, if I let him, and I'm grateful for my faith. But how do those without faith survive? 

I came across this blog the other day, penned by a woman who has experienced the death of two children. I can't imagine that pain. But this is what I read on her blog: 

"All of my followers here on my blog know I am a twice bereaved parent. What very few of you all know is that I carried my oldest daughter across & personally handed her to the angels who completed the journey with her. So you can trust me when I tell you this: if you want to know where God lives put yourself somewhere in a place of peace; get lost in some music, or the soft sound of the wind in the trees, or anything that lifts you up. Close your eyes & feel the joy. THAT is where God lives, and THAT is where Heaven is."

For this whole month, she will be sharing her experience, sharing "...where and how I get my strength."

Click HERE to read along.

He himself is our peace. Ephesians 2:14

 

"I hope." ~ Red, Shawshank Redemption

"Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things,

and no good thing ever dies."

~ Andy Dufresne, Shawshank Redemption

I've seen Shawshank Redemption a zillion times.  And last night I had two zillion things to do. So when TG started watching it, I tried to ignore it and focus on what I needed to do.

Along about the second half, I quit trying. Instead, I poured a glass of wine, plopped into the recliner beside her and forgot about my to-do's. This is why:

1. She'll be heading back to school soon and there won't be many more opportunities just to hang out at home like that, watching a movie together. Especially with the boys gone!

2. I love the movie.

3. That's all it took. I didn't need a #3.

I wasn't trying to analyze why I love Shawshank Redemption last night while I watched. But I kept thinking about it today and had to gather the thoughts, of course. Here they are (spoiler alert, in case there's actually someone who hasn't seen this movie!):

Hope... Andy holds on to hope despite life's best efforts to smash it out of him. Talk about bad luck! His hope is contagious; he and Red get to begin their lives over at middle-age because they dared to hope and believe that one day it would be possible. According to the movie - and I believe it whole-heartedly - it's never too late to live out a dream.

Integrity... I love how the movie illustrates what integrity is - the twist on how the criminals can have more integrity than the warden or the guards. And I love how Andy holds on tight to his integrity and inspires others to rise higher than they thought possible, to be better than they thought possible. To find the good in themselves.

Justice... Good overcomes evil, justice prevails and hope is justified.

Nothing says it better than Red at the end...

"I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain.

I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand.

I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams.

I hope."

 

Why, Thank You! (and my Friday Favorite Photo!)

Thank you to everyone who said a prayer, crossed their fingers or in some way tried to steer Tropical Storm Don more to the north, providing us with a better chance of rain to ease this drought.

However, I just saw this post by my weatherman on Facebook...

Dear Don,
Thanks for nothing.
Sincerely,
Central Texas.
p.s. Emily...we're counting on you.

It seems pretty official that Don left us in the dust. Literally.

But, I know God knows what he's doing, so I guess South Texas and Mexico needed the rain more than we did right now. Perhaps this "Emily" is the answer to our prayer, so please keep 'em coming!

*************************************

Did you read my Face in the Mirror post a few days ago? 

When my my blogger friend Suldog read it, he was inspired to write his own Ode to his Face.

Hop over to his site and take a look HERE. (Warning - his version is definitely rated at least PG-13. Maybe even R.)

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. ~ Charles Caleb Colton

... and I'm sure that includes parody. So thank you, Jim!

************************************

Glancing at my stats the other day, I noticed several hits from a site called Best Posts of the Week. It seems someone nominated my Week of Moons post on my photography blog as a 'best post'. 

 I have no idea who it was, but who ever you are, thank you!

****************************************

Last year I spent a few days with my creative friend Ann in Galveston. I fell in love with an antique frame she had turned into an earring holder.

A few months later I came across a different version of the idea in a magazine and alerted my friends to be on the lookout for old photo frames so I could make my own.

My friend Mary Kay, as usual, wasn't satisfied with just finding me a frame - she went on to create this wonderful earring holder/display for me, as well as two others to use for my jewelry business. 

One thing is obvious - I need more earrings!

No, that's not it. What's obvious is Mary Kay is amazing - and an amazing friend!

Thank you, Mary Kay!

*****************************************

I took the day off for some junking/photography fun today. Along with Mary Kay (see above), her friend Claudia visiting from Colorado and TG, I spent the day enjoying old Georgetown... 

...and kicking myself, because I can't even count the number of times I've been in Georgetown over the past 15 years for soccer games, college visits, doctor visits, eating out, visiting friends... and never took the time to explore the wonderful town square, full of eclectic shops and beautiful architecture. 

Thanks again to Mary Kay for finally getting me there and to Claudia for lunch at the Monument Cafe. It was a wonderful day.

 

Look at this bench made to look like a book, sitting outside of a bookstore - I LOVE it! That's Claudia and Mary Kay just a little ways down...

*******************************************

 

But that's not my favorite photo of the week. I picked this one of the purple flower because it's no longer there - the drought was too much for it.

But in this photo, it looks like it's dancing, doesn't it? It had fun - truly blossomed - while it was here.

(It's also posted HERE on my photography blog along with other flowers that defied the drought and bloomed anyway, at least for a little while.)

I also love this photo because it's such a tiny flower that you can't even see its beauty unless you get up this close - and that's such a great lesson about true beauty and paying attention, isn't it? It's often worth taking a closer look at things that it would be easy to ignore. 

Hope you had a wonderful Friday and didn't miss a thing!

 

 

Connections (my Friday Favorite Photos)

A few years ago, inspired by my lifetime friend Ann's blog, I started Long Hollow. It was pretty scary putting my thoughts and words out here for all the world (at least it felt like all the world) to see. But I stepped through the fear and did it anyway. 

I had no idea back then what kind of adventure I was stepping into... I had no idea where it would lead me or the people it would connect me with.

Blogging not only kept me writing, it opened the door to photography for me - and that's why I've spent the last hour up on my road waiting for the clouds to pass so I could capture an image of the full moon. I have no idea if I got a good one or not, but it doesn't really matter. I wasn't even going to try this month - I'm just so tired, and come on, one full moon looks like another, right?

But thanks to my competitive spirit and connections I've made through my blog and photography who were posting their own photos (Debbie!) or emailing them to me (Ray!)... and thanks to Tom calling me to "Hurry! Come see the full moon!" ... I grabbed my camera and headed outside. I would have been so sorry if I hadn't.

My first Friday Favorite Photo isn't of the moon, though. It's of a postcard from Maureen, one of my virtual connections. I didn't have time to participate in a postcard trade she mentioned on her blog, but she sent me one of hers anyway ... a postcard of one of her gorgeous photographs.

A few days later I received a set of postcards from Jill, created from her beautiful photography, the prize in one of her fun photography/blogging games. Jill is another connection I made through my blog... a friend who has critiqued, encouraged and supported my blog and photography almost since the beginning, pushing me to grow and learn.

For now, both of the postcards are in places of honor in my library. One day I'll frame them... but for now I like to flip them over to read the handwritten notes.

I'm not sure what I expected when I wrote that first blog post, but I know I could never have imagined the connections I've made with such talented, sharing, supportive people. Thank you to all of you! You are truly blessings in my life!

 

Divas ... Then and Now

More than two weeks have already passed since my Deer Park Diva Weekend, but I'm just now getting the photos uploaded to Facebook and I've barely mentioned it on here.

(Or have I? I can't remember!)

But on these hectic, over-packed days I find myself in lately, I just have to flip a page in my mind to take myself back there beside Rae's pool, surrounded by ladies who have known me most of my life (plus a few Divas-in-Training) and ahhh, the stress just melts away in the warmth of the memory.

Friendship and sunshine. They can cure almost anything - or at least help you get through anything.

Who are the Divas? We're just girls, um, women who used to be girls who attended high school together. Many of us attended junior high and even elementary school together, too. Some are married to the guys who attended high school with the rest of us and that makes them honorary Divas.

We didn't necessarily hang around each other back then or share the same interests or hobbies or classes.

Some of us were best friends in junior high then drifted apart in the bigger sea of high school. 

 

Some became best friends in high school and have somehow hung on through all the ups and downs of the years. 

 

 

But the important thing is we're friends now, with so much in common, connected by bonds we never realized were there, more than thirty years after graduation.

In their faces, I see all the ages we've been. We didn't spend them all together - there have been gaps in our closeness during those times when our lives led in different directions.

But what a blessing that our paths have once again converged because when I look at these women, I also see survivors.  Divorce... deaths of children, husbands, siblings, parents... cancer... the fear of children at war overseas and children battling addiction...

You name it and one of us has lived through it.

I see women who keep going despite it all, who still find plenty to laugh about. Women who love life.

But Patti describes a Diva Weekend much better than I can...

 

Ode to the Deer Park Divas

So we’re all in our fifties, but none of us care

We’re all just so happy to have us all there.

We talk about husbands, the jobs that we’ve had,

We talk about kids, the good and the bad.

We drink margaritas and hang in Rae’s pool

And remember the days when we were all cool.

We play “who was....?” but mostly don’t know

Which makes us laugh harder at these brains that are slow.

We are 13 again as long as we’re together

And with a little luck, we’ll do this forever.

We’re sisters for life, let the story be told -

We’re the Deer Park Divas and we’ll never grow old!

~ Patti (Stringer) McPeek

Friends Forever!

He Knows Me So Well (and Saturday's Week of Sweet!s)

Tom's email read "I saw this and thought of you," with a hyperlink under the message.

My heart fluttered - he thought of me while he was at work? How sweet! Tom never emails me unless it's a two-word response to something I've sent him.

I clicked the link and laughed when the page popped up describing (and showing images of) a 557-square-foot House of Shelves in Japan that can hold 10 tons of books.

Be still my heart!

Yes, Tom knows me well. I'd have shelves on every wall in our house if he'd let me.

Click HERE to see the House of Shelves and read more about it.

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My brother Donnie also knows me well - he sent me a link to something he knew I'd love to read about... a 7-year-old drummer named Jonah. Check him out! So cute! (He's 5 in this video - amazing!)

 

 

Now I'm fired up to squeeze 'playing my drums' back into my schedule somehow. They've gotten a little dusty lately. (Go to Jonah Rocks to find out more about Jonah.)

 

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And now for my Sweet! Moments of the Week...

Sunday: witnessing more than a dozen teenagers receiving the sacrament of Confirmation

Monday: the contrast of cool lake water and hot sunshine on your body

Tuesday: a dusty rose dawn; finding a beautiful shirt on a clearance rack for $7!

Wednesday: a sky full of storm clouds and a few drops of rain on your dusty dry land

Thursday: a text message from your big brother telling you he's in love again

Friday: unwinding on a shady porch after work with a glass of Super Texan; watching "Where the Heart Is" with your honey (what a sweet movie!)

Saturday: Having friends drop in to support you at your new job; Sean's duck and Tom's slow-smoked beef ribs - double yum! Getting word that Shake Russell was finally recognized as "Entertainer of the Year" at the Texas Music Awards! (Congratulations, Shake!)

Hope you find plenty of Sweet! moments in this coming week. Remember...

‎"All things pass; God never changes."

~ St. Teresa of Avila

Makin' a list and checkin' it twice...

List-mode -noun  A state of being wherein a moderately organized compulsive listmaker falls behind on things she needs to do, usually due to a weekend out of town with her girlfriends, and can't help but make more lists in a feeble attempt to get caught up without forgetting something important.

 

1. Sigh.

2. The weekend was totally worth it, though. Just hanging out with my girlfriends around the pool, sipping margaritas and talking, talking, talking would have made my current harried frenzy worth it, but my weekend journey had some other high spots in it as well.

3. If you're a blogger or on Facebook or FlickR or Twitter or some other social media I've never heard of, you've probably made lots of friends that, chances are, you'll never meet in person. Well, this weekend I got to meet one of those previously "virtual" friends, Debbie, who I connected with a few months ago on FlickR. On my way into Houston Friday, she met me for lunch.

4. It is so cool to see a person you've only known through words or photos sitting right there in front of you, face to face. We had a wonderful visit, but, of course, it was too short. 

5. We'll have to do it again, Debbie!!

6. My Diva weekend will get its own post (eventually!) but I want to mention one thing about it now because I think it's such a great idea.

7. We celebrated Leslie's birthday on Saturday, but instead of presents, she requested bags of dog and cat food that she could donate to an animal shelter. Isn't that a great idea?

8. You rock, Leslie!! 

9. (Here she is between her goddaughter, Georgie, and our sweet animal-loving hostess Rae, who took the food to her local shelter.)

 

10. Sunday I spent several hours with my parents before heading home, and for close to four of those hours I listened to - and recorded - my parents' stories and memories.

11. I'm convinced there's no better heirloom or legacy, and can't wait to go back to capture more of that treasure. 

12. Doesn't Daddy look cute in his suspenders? 

13. Do you remember me telling you I'm part of the BlogHer Book Club? Well, my latest book review was published today on BlogHer, about Sarah Dessen's What Happened to Goodbye? Click HERE to read my full review.  

14. Guess what? I'm a finalist in Jillsy Girl's June Water Challenge! Voting continues until June 29th so go HERE to vote! (Don't feel you have to vote for me - click on each of the entries and pick whichever one you like.)

15. Some people truly amaze me, and Gina Calvert is one of those people, constantly spreading herself thin to help someone else. Her latest venture is for Girls on the Run, a non-profit prevention program that helps preteen girls develop self-respect and health lifestyles through running.

16. Gina, who isn't a runner yet, plans to run a 5K in just a few months to raise money for the program. (I should mention at this point that Gina is 51!)

17.Please click HERE to read more about Girls on the Run. (Even if you don't think you can or will donate, you should read Gina's post about it. She's a wonderful writer!) 

18. Whew! I think that's enough for tonight...

19. Thank you.

Just Three Things (and a Friday Favorite Photo)

I'll be traveling today, driving miles of highway in my air-conditioned car, singing along to the radio, probably dancing in my seat and drumming on the steering wheel, perhaps swerving off the road to capture something in my camera (because I can do that when I travel alone.)

(Don't worry, Mama I promise I'll be careful.)

But there are three things I want to share with you before I leave...

First...

Have you see the previews for Larry Crowne, that movie with Tom Hanks as a middle-aged college student and Julia Roberts as a teacher? I really want to see it because I've been an "older" student off and on for 20 years. (Currently "off" because we don't have the money right now.) I get the feeling Tom Hank's experience is a little different than mine has been, but I still want to see the movie, because, well, it's Tom and Julia.

Plus I haven't been to the movies in quite a while and I'm craving it. I enjoy watching movies here at home, but there's just something different about sitting there in a theater with that big screen in front of you, speakers blaring so loudly you (hallelujah!) can't hear the couple behind you talking.

Okay, actually I crave movie popcorn. But I really do want to see this movie.

I discovered two bloggers who might make that happen for me, and if not me, then maybe you. If you're interested in winning tickets to see Larry Crowne, then go to MidlifeBloggers or The Fifty Factor and follow their directions. Pretty much, you just have to leave a comment and later a winner will be picked by random selection. I hope it's me. Or you. (And if it's you, I hope you take me with you.)

Even if you're not interested, you should go read Joanna's blog post at The Fifty Factor that leads up to the giveaway. Hilarious!

Second...

This one is for all you movie-loving, screenwriting, film producing readers out there. A few months ago, my creative and multi-talented high school friend Byron Tully, along with his friend Weatherford Bradley, created Indie Friendlie, a site that showcases filmmakers and films who don't have the budgets or marketing departments to get them into theaters. There were a few glitches with the initial site, but I'm happy to report Indie Friendlie is back, even better than before! If you're a film lover of any kind, go check it out!

Third...

You need to go read this post by Gail at Louisiana Belle that I read yesterday. It's a wonderful post about graciousness, as in being gracious to someone even though you'd really rather throttle their neck, based on Gail's personal experience with a certain person. It teaches a great lesson, but besides that, it's an honest and funny post, one of those that will stay with me, especially when I want to throttle someone's neck.

Here's the link: Noreen Update.

Go check it out, but first, take a look at my Friday Favorite Photo of the week...

There are only a scattered few of these stubborn yellow flowers continuing to bloom against the odds. I don't know how long they can hold out, so I chose this photo of one especially bold bloom as my favorite of the week.

Hope you have a wonderful weekend!

 

 

 

What a Father Does

A father gives advice 

A father nourishes body 

and soul 

A father encourages

A father is joyful

A father reads

A father lends a hand 

 

A father plays 

 

A father offers support 

A father sticks close by your side

 

A father makes memories

A father teaches 

A father laughs 

 

A father is gallant

 

A father proves age is just a number

 

A father reaches out 

A father hangs on tight

 

A father helps you aim high

A father shows pride 

A father sets a good example to follow

A father relaxes

A father listens

A father works

 

A father keeps you honest

 

A father helps out

 

A father loves

A father dances 

 

A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty.

~Author Unknown

I've spent the day wading through photos, pulling out these of my three favorite fathers - my sweet Daddy, my remarkable father-in-law and my wonderful husband Tom, father of my children.

I might have gone overboard with the posting, but once I got started, it was hard to stop. While gathering the ones I wanted to use and posting them here, I also transferred photos from decrepit photo albums to new, more protective ones and recovered tons of files from that dying external hard drive. There are still a few left. I hope I can salvage them before it's gone completely.

There were tons of photos to choose from, reminders of how blessed Tom and I are to have such great, loving fathers. And I was reminded how lucky I am that he's the father of my children. Granted, we don't always see eye to eye on parenting styles, but I think we complement each other and achieve a good balance. 

We didn't get to see our fathers today, but we know how blessed we are that we can pick up a phone and wish them a Happy Father's Day (which we did.) 

I hope all of you dads (and moms who are playing both both roles for your children) had a wonderful Father's Day!

P.S.

My sister gave me permission to post this beautiful letter she wrote to our Daddy for Father's Day. It expresses much better than I can what kind of parents we were blessed with. Thank you, Daddy and Mama (and Brenda for letting me post it!)

Dear Daddy,

   As fathers go, you’re as good as they get. I’ve always loved you and been proud of you, and one of the things I appreciate about you is that you’ve always made it clear that you were proud of me. As I matured, I realized that not all parents are as generous with praise and appreciation of their kids as you and Mama have been with all of us. Thank you for the confidence you instilled!

   Thank you, also, for being my first first-grade teacher. Even after all these years I can remember lessons with you, particularly the large chart of the alphabet hanging on my bedroom wall, from which you taught me to read. That started my love of reading and opened worlds to me. For that I will be forever grateful.

   There is so much between then and now to be thankful for, but I am so very, very grateful for the opportunity to fall back into your and Mama’s loving arms for the last three months. At the least you provided me with basic care and waited on me hand and foot. But you did so much more. You doted on me, fussed over me, kept me company and entertained me. It was a little bit of heaven I’ll always be thankful for.

   I enjoyed waking up each morning and using my walker to meet you in the living room, where you stored my wheelchair each night. You seemed to enjoy pushing me, even though I could wheel myself, and I enjoyed letting you. You parked me at the dining room table and poured me a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice, then it was, “What would you like for breakfast today? Toast, bacon, eggs, oatmeal?” And you cheerfully fixed whatever I asked for. I was Daddy’s little princess every morning. Before I finished skimming the newspaper, Mama would join us. That made the morning perfect. What a rare treat for someone my age!

   Nobody ever had a better Daddy. I’m so glad I got you!

And I am, too! Happy Father's Day, Daddy! Thank you for always putting up with me, for always encouraging me and always believing in me! I love you!

On Flying...or Not

 

A bird, whether it is tied down by a thread or a chain, still cannot fly.

St. John of the Cross

There are days I feel I'm a bird, hopping around on a branch, aching to take to the sky chasing the delectable dreams I see darting around, just out of my reach... But there's something holding me back, tethering me to that branch.

There are days I wonder if perhaps nothing is tying me down after all - I'm just afraid to let go, to leave the safety of the branch, to take that first leap.

There are days I wonder if I've been flying all along, but I've just been too nervous or preoccupied or too busy looking ahead to take a look around, relax, enjoy the scenery and notice how high I've actually flown.

What about you?

******************************************************

Something happened this week to make me think that even if I'm not actually flying yet, I've at least moved up higher in the tree.

Wolf Pascoe, who chronicles his fatherhood adventures at Just Add Father, honored me yesterday by using a few of my photographs, including the one above, to complement "Number My Days," a very moving post about life, death and fatherhood.

Wolf isn't his real name, by the way. He uses a pen name to protect his family's privacy. (I'm sure my kids wish I'd done the same!)

He also writes about his job under his pen name - he's a doctor. But he's also a published poet/playwright under his real name (whatever that is!)

I can't remember how we bumped into each other in the blogosphere, but even though it would appear we don't have much in common, we've connected through our words and stories. I encourage you to hop over there - he's a very gifted writer!

Thank you, Wolf!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks to you...

...I slept in this morning, until the impatient sunlight pestered me awake.

...I walked with the dogs along a country road, safe and free.

...I'll spend time in the sunshine, share a bountiful meal, maybe play some ping-pong with my kids. 

Thanks to you...

...I grew up in a country where I (mostly) make my own choices.

...I live in a land where my dreams are limited only by my own lack of creativity, ambition and drive.

...my children face a future where almost anything is possible.

...I'm free to live my life because you gave your own.

I promise I won't forget. I promise I won't take it for granted.

I promise your sacrifice won't be wasted on me.

Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.

~Gladys Bronwyn Stern

 

 

Oops!

Oops! Oops! OOPS!

Halfway to my car, ready to head out for a full day of errands, it hit me: I didn't have my keys and the house was locked up tight. 

OOPS!

What the hell happened to my OCD, that bully who forces me to check that my keys are in my purse over and over and over each time I leave the house until I finally get tired and just grip them in my hand when I pull the locked door to behind me to be satified I really have them?

I know that pest had been on my shoulder whispering in my ear when I checked every door and window, making sure they were all locked. It was even there after I loosened the bathroom window screen to let the beautiful moth out that has been trapped in the house for days, nagging me to make sure the screen was back in place tight, rather than just wedging it "good enough" like I wanted to.

It reminded me to grab the water bill, my checkbook, and my coffee carafe and mug, reading them to me off my mental checklist.  Yep, that's it. You have everything...

Um, OCD, what about KEYS?!

Okay, I confess that "Oops!" isn't what flew out of my mouth when I realized my car keys were still sitting all by their lonesome on the counter and I was locked out of the house. (They were probably wondering why I'd run off and left them. Or were they laughing at me? That's more likely, isn't it? Damn smartass keys.)

Anyway, I can't write what I really said, but Tom knows ... he heard it all when I called him on my cell phone for help (I told you I had everything I needed except the keys.) I prayed he'd stashed a key outside somewhere. I knew I hadn't. 

He hadn't either, dang it.

But...he had an idea. Following his suggestion, I tried breaking a pane out of a window with a metal pipe. I banged the hell out of it, the sound ricocheting through the Hollow and scaring the puppies.

Not a crack. Not a dent. Not a scratch.

That made us feel more secure, but didn't help me get in the house.

So guess what Tom did?

He drove home to rescue me - a 45 minute trip one way.

My Knight in Shining Armor. My Personal Cavalry.

My Tom.

sigh.

He unlocked the door, I ran to the bathroom (I'd had time to drink that whole carafe of coffee!), we each ate a slice of cheesecake (to make us feel better) then, keys in my hand and water bill in his, we kissed goodbye and went our separate ways.

But that's not the end of the story. On his way home tonight, he stopped and bought me a present. Five of them, in fact. Five copies of our housekey, now safely hidden in secure, mysterious spots you would never think of so don't try, and attached to every set of keys we own.

My Hero.

He still holds the keys to my heart, for sure.

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Mother's Day! (and Sweet! #4)

It didn't take me long to break my own Sweet! rule - I didn't post one yesterday. But I've forgiven myself and will just get back on track today with this one...

Listening to soulful music sung live and loud by the Shake Russell Trio and Michael Hearne right in my own livingroom, surrounded by music-loving friends.

Sweet!

Details coming on that later...

Today, quite appropriately for Mother's Day, but mostly because I'm plain tuckered out, the Word of the Day is Relax! I've spent the day hanging out with 1/3 of my kids, specifically Daniel whose finals are mostly over with so he could afford the time to come home this weekend.

The other two couldn't be here, but they called! (That's a bonus Sweet! for sure!)

Daniel's done a great job filling in for all of them, helping get the house back in order, watching a movie with me and just talking.

(Tom disappeared - we discovered him back in bed, snoozing away. I think he takes a nap every Mother's Day!  I don't begrudge him, though, especially this year. He worked and cooked like a maniac yesterday, preparing for the home concert.)

I missed seeing my own mom, but enjoyed talking to her on the phone. 

I'm sending good thoughts and virtual hugs to all of you mothers out there - and special prayers for those of you who have spent the day aching from the loss of a child or your own mother. 

And now, something to make you smile and remind you that "motherhood" isn't necessarily something defined by genetics... (thanks for sending this to me, Rick!) ...

Tough and Beautiful, inside and out. That's my Mom.

My mother, a pony-riding, chin-up champion tomboy, grew up... 

 

 

 ...to be one of the most beautiful women in the world, inside and out.

She's only 17 in the photo above.

I certainly didn't look this glamorous, elegant, or self-confident at 17.

I'm not sure I ever have! 

 

She's a combination of strong, soft, tough, sweet, gutsy, generous, confident, sensitive, sharp, compassionate, independent, loyal and determined that makes the cast of Magnolia Steel look like a bunch of cry-babies.

 

It's no wonder she caught the eye of my handsome, shy highway patrolman Daddy.Did I mention she was smart, too? Smart enough to know a good thing when she saw it .
(And of course, he was that smart, too.)

 

She's the one who taught me you can do anything you put your mind to, or deal with whatever life plops in your lap.

(I want both of these dresses!)

 

No, that pretty little girl up there isn't me. That's my big sister, Brenda. I wouldn't show up for probably two more Easters.

But the little cowgirl in the next one is me.(I never have had my mom's sense of style. Hers comes through even in a watermelon shirt.)

 

Maybe I didn't inherit her sense of style, but I did inherit a passion for lifelong learning. Judging by the serious (annoyed?) look on her face, I bet she was studying for one of her college classes when I took the one below. (But my gosh, isn't she gorgeous?)

She taught me there are times to buckle down and be serious...

 

...but mostly she taught me that life, even with its ups and downs and its quirky sense of humor, is still fabulous.

She taught me to appreciate every single day the good Lord gives me on this earth.

She taught me that no matter what's going on your life, you can find something to laugh about...

 ...and a ready laugh is beauty's secret weapon, inside and out.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama! Thank you!

I've linked this post to Jillsy's latest blog hop, because I guess it's obvious I think my mom has always been a glamorous beauty. Check out the other Mom Tributes below, and feel free to add your own. You don't have to have a blog - a FlickR or Facebook photo will work, too.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you who have mothered someone at sometime in your life!

 

Reflections on a Good Friday

I stepped out this morning to a world, well, not quite washed clean, but at least refreshed.

Sometime during the night or this morning, it rained, leaving this puddle full of reflection on the porch like a mysterious gift.

The rain settled the dust and I'm trying hard to do likewise with my thoughts that are eager to whirl away in every direction like so many dust devils.

I'm trying to keep a firm grip on them, trying to be full of focused, calm reflection myself today, like the gift of pooled raindrops outside.

Today is Good Friday, a day Christians around the world honor as the day Christ died on the cross for our sins. So why do we call it "good"? Several people posted the answer on Facebook, better than I could say it:

In the original language, 'good' meant 'holy'. It is good because on that day, Christ died for us while we were still sinners. Without His sacrifice we could not be reconciled to God! Remember Him today and give thanks for what He did for us.

On Good Friday and again on Easter Sunday, we're reminded of miracles and opposites, like an errant rain cloud in a drought-cursed sky showering blessings on your dusty soul when you least expect it. 

I've got a zillion errands to run today, so many things to try to take care of and I still won't even make a dent in my to-do lists, but I'm going to try to hang on to these reflections today as I head into the Easter weekend.

Peace to you!

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,

that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

– John 3:16 (King James Version)

 

Faith, Hope, Love (what would I do without my friends?)

 

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us."

~ Albert Schweitzer

My friend Jillsy sent this to me last week -  my prize for contributing the most bird photos to her Tweet Around the World blog hop. I was expecting a set of her beautiful cards (she creates greeting cards from her photographs) and that would have been wonderful, so this was a huge surprise, and of course, just what I needed.

All I could think was, how did she know? How did she know I needed this boost, this reminder, this encouragement? 

Some days I feel I'm going crazy, trying to do too much, chase too many dreams at once. I wonder if I should just give up and be practical, focus on making money now rather than pour my time and energy on a maybe later. But there's a clock ticking in my brain that I can't stop; it makes it tough to put those dreams off any longer. Yet I know we need money now, so I also take on projects and jobs that will pull in the green right away.

Jillsy says she has a placque just like it and she keeps it near her desk so she can look at it often, draw inspiration and strength from it, and keep going. She knows me well enough now to know I need it, too, I guess.

For now, mine is waiting to be hung on the wall in my future office, a constant reminder of her encouragement and support.

 

***************************************

 

Saturday afternoon I met a group of friends for a late lunch - they called it my birthday lunch, and that was fine. I'll use any excuse to get together with them.

But they got me a gift, and even though I should be upset with them for it, how can I? They pitched in together to get me this...

 

Yes, Photoshop Elements 9! Can you believe it? I still can't! When I opened the box, I'm sure my jaw dropped.

I bet I even drooled a little.

For their part, I think they realized I wasn't going to stop posting photos of them on my blog and Facebook, and they figured this was as much a gift for themselves as it was for me; I can whittle a few pounds here, smooth a few wrinkles there, snip the gray hair.

And I promise, girls, I will! Thank you, thank you, Darla, Rae, Leslie, Gwen, Debbie and Donna!

As if that wasn't enough, they also gave me these...

...a wine stopper and a cross magnet (do they know me or what?) and framed reminder of the love of my friends and the faith they have in me - the faith I need to have in myself.

 

**********************************************

 

I've often used the "pebble in a pond" analogy when trying to illustrate consequences to my kids - every action we make creates ripples that affect other people. Good actions equal good ripples, bad actions equal bad ripples. 

I didn't state it as eloquently or elaborate on it as far as Baron Batch did in his beautiful essay on those ripples. My friend Berniece emailed it to me recently, along with this note: My father found this in the paper, then my sister mailed it to me. I will be having my students read it in class. Very inspiring, just like your writing. Love, Berniece 

After I read it, I was humbled by Berniece's words, because Batch's essay is so good. It was also just what I needed to read. Full of hope and encouragement to never give up.

What a wonderful ripple from Berniece.(Read Batch's essay HERE.)

 

***************************************************

 

Okay, I started this post earlier in the week and planned to finish it up last night. 

But yesterday, mentally and inspirationally drained by a day's work, I opened my mailbox and found it stuffed and overflowing with more faith, hope and love.

First, this beautiful package from my friends Shari and Robert...

I hated to unwrap it, it was so beautiful!

But I did, and look what I found...

Shari knows I love vintage roses (I have a 'Rose' bathroom!) and also, see that bit of lace at the top? ... it's a remnant of a doily handmade by her grandmother - how much more inspiring can that be, to have her give me a bit of her own grandmother's love?

But that's just Shari and Robert. I'm lucky.

 

****************************************************

 

A large box took up most of the mailbox. Inside I found another beautifully wrapped package...

...a gift from my creative, artistic friend Annie K.

She knows what I love, too - this is a hand-decorated journal, full of blank pages waiting for my thoughts, and sweet, encouraging reminders on the outside... 

Thank you, Annie!

 

************************************************

 

This morning I sat at the computer to really and truly finish this post ... but, ever the procrastinator, decided to first glance at my emails.

One from Jillsy caught my eye right away: "OMG!!!!!!!!!" was the subject. Inside, in all caps, she let me know Pioneer Woman had chosen my photo, one of my brother Donnie, for Group 3 of her Brothers Photo Assignment. It's one of a series I took of him for a blog post just as he pulled up to our house on his Harley, after an adventure to Montana last year.

Having it selected was sweet, but what made it sweeter were these words from Jillsy: "I'M OVERJOYED!" She's the one who introduced me to Flickr, Pioneer Woman Photography, and so much more.

(So many ripples she has sent my way.)

When I added the photo, I really had no hope of it being selected. 

Well, I guess I had a little hope, sprinkled with teensy seeds of faith in miracles.

This is proof that dreams can come true. Maybe it's a little dream, but they count, too - they're what keep you moving to the big ones.

 

 

So I'll keep dreamin' ... thanks to my friends.

And I'll try to do a better job sending out ripples of encouragement, faith, love and hope.

You keep dreamin' too! 

Take it from me - they just might come true!

(I added this post to focus52 - this week's theme is 'Hope'. Click HERE to see the other contributions.)

 

A Reason to Celebrate!

The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.

~ Opray Winfrey

I turned 50 almost two years ago, along with all of the people I went to school with. We spent a fabulous year celebrating one birthday after another, each time celebrating all of us jumping into this next half century. 

My birthday party, courtesy of wonderful friends, was, I believe, the best birthday party I'd every had in my life. (I've already written about it so I'll spare you the details again, but click HERE if you're interested and missed it the first time. I'll warn you ... it involved cage dancing!)

The tinsel in the photo above is from that party - a friend decorated water bottles with it, and this piece has been wrapped around my little wine rack ever since, a reminder not only of my wonderful friends, but that life itself is a reason to celebrate each and every day.

If you woke up breathing, congratulations!  You have another chance.

 ~ Andrea Boydston

Earlier this month we celebrated the life of a dear friend in a different way - not the way we'd prefer, but the wake and funeral service for our friend Carl was a celebration, nonetheless. A celebration of his inspirational, infectious spirit ... a spirit that I suspect celebrated life every single day.

"Fly free and happy beyond birthdays and across forever, 

 and we'll meet now and then when we wish,

in the midst of the one celebration that never can end."

~ Richard Bach

At the service, another friend of his offered tokens to everyone, reminders of Carl. She had asked his kids to come up with words that described their dad, or tell her things he often said. She then burnished pieces of bamboo and somehow printed the words on the pieces.

Tom pulled one that said "Superman". He carries it in his pocket every day now. I think that's a form of celebration, don't you?

(I ended up with these four. There are words on both sides. Tom says I was greedy, but all jokes aside, I was there a long time, and each time I closed my eyes and pulled another token from the basket, I felt a connection to Carl. I'll eventually give two of the pieces to my two kids who couldn't be there.)

"The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is to celebrate."

~ Opray Winfrey

Friday night we helped celebrate with friends their 20th wedding anniversary. It was a surprise celebration, the idea of their oldest daughter, who was five at the wedding.

What a testament to their love and marriage that she saw reason to be sure they celebrated it in style! Like any marriage, theirs has had some ups and downs; we were happy to help them celebrate!

Above, a surprised Conni with her thoughtful, sneaky daughter...

Below, Conni and Larry, twenty years ago... (isn't this a sweet idea, hanging the wedding photos from a tree along with glass hearts?)

"Conni and Larry go together like peas and carrots" That was the theme of the party. Somehow our friend Mary Kay found candy peas and carrots and bagged them up as favors. So cute!

 

So what have you celebrated lately? (I hope it was this day!)

Remember, you need to...

"Enjoy yourself. It's later than you think."

~ Chinese proverb

This is my contribution to the latest Focus 52 project hosted by Jan at twoscoopz. Yesterday was her birthday, so she has been celebrating all week! Click HERE to see the other contributions!

 

 

Grandma's Eyes

 

We parked in front of Grandma's tiny home and piled out of the car, the grownups heading straight for the porch. I lagged behind on the footbridge with my cousin; Poo swore she was not going to step a foot closer to that spooky place.

Grandma's house was gray, the gray of a dead oak branch still clinging to a tree full of green. That's what it reminded me of, because it sat nestled in the middle of her fig trees, her rose bushes, her gardens. To say she had a green thumb was like saying Jesus was a good swimmer. Grandma could grow anything.

Grandma was also blind. Someone had strung a rope between her flower beds so she could feel her way around to tend them. Heck, she might have strung it up herself, somehow. I only knew her then as a child knows a great-grandmother, which means about as much as you can know about a story from looking at the outside of a book, but over the years I learned she was smart, proud, stubborn, and unafraid of hard work. Unafraid, period.

While the grownups climbed the rickety steps and disappeared into the darkness of the fragile house, I tried to convince Poo it wasn't haunted.

I understood her wariness, though. It was hard to believe anyone lived in that weary place. If any paint had ever brightened those gray boards, time and weather had long ago stripped any evidence of it. 

And I knew the inside wasn't much better. Unlike Poo, who lived far away, we lived just over the Ship Channel, and every few Sundays we'd drive through the tunnel to pay Grandma a visit. I dreaded it because of the smell of gas and old that slapped you in the face when you first stepped through the door, and the tiny bugs I could see crawling in and out of the old-fashioned key holes. We had cockroaches hiding in the dark places of our home (like everyone else in that area, including the rich) so I wasn't judging her. I just didn't like it.

Also, Grandma was blind, but not bashful. Merly, she'd say to my mom, how old is this girl now? Then using her hands she'd give me a thorough checking out (wink, wink) to see if my development matched my reported age.

Oh, another thing. Grandma dipped snuff and kept a spit jar handy.

Yes, I dreaded the visits.

But, still, I knew it was safe to go inside, and I knew we should at least make an appearance. She wasn't a soft, sweet-smelling, gushing-over-grandchildren kind of grandma - her cover was pretty worn and ragged, her face full of angles below a wild nest of white hair, her eyes cloudy yet intense - but she was our Grandma, nevertheless. Well, great-grandma, and great-great grandma, respectively. 

There wouldn't be much to see once we crossed the threshold. I only remember three rooms: a bedroom to the left, a kitchen straight ahead, and the main room you step into from outside, and all I remember about the main room is a table where Grandma's record player sat (along with her spit jar.) The Lighthouse for the Blind sent her an audio record of the complete Bible, and my mother told me Grandma listened to it every day.

(I didn't know this at the time, but my older sister used to visit Grandma separately, sometimes taking her friends along. They loved visiting with this feisty old lady who'd outlived a whole century. I kick myself now for not spending more time with Grandma myself.)

These thoughts and memories popped into my head yesterday when my eyes began to ache. I had been staring at the computer screen for hours. That's not unusual. I stare at the computer screen for hours every day, sometimes up to 15 hours, with small breaks in between.

And my eyes start aching every day; sometimes they twitch and spasm, and that reminds me to do my eye exercises, staring out the window at something far away, focusing on objects at different distances... but more and more it reminds me of Grandma. Of her blindness.

I'm not sure what caused her to lose her sight. I've heard she was an avid reader, just like me, and would devour books by gas light. Family legend said that's what did it, reading in dim light, but modern medicine has taken away that excuse.

Could it just be heredity, some stray renegade gene? I hope not. Don't want to think of that.

Aside from my eye exercises and trying to eat healthy, I don't think there's anything I can do to prevent it anyway. My job requires me to stare at a computer screen for hours, and in my spare time I'm a writer, staring at yet another screen. And that's that.

I can only hope that, if I do inherit Grandma's eyes, I also inherit her spirit that refused to let her blindness keep her from the things she loved.

 

This post is my response to the Red Dress Club’s memoir prompt of writing about a memory and what it means to us.  At first I couldn't think of anything meaningful, but that's the beauty of these prompts - they start you thinking. And writing. Click the button below to read the other writers' contributions.

 

Saying thank you ... and goodbye.

I spent two days witnessing love and friendship poured back upon a family mourning a husband, father, son, brother, uncle.

A whole community grieved over the loss of one man, joined by family and friends who had traveled thousands of miles to pay their respects, impressing upon me visually what an amazing difference one man can make in the lives of so many by living life to the fullest, believing the impossible is do-able, and just being a friend.

(Imagine the difference in the world if we all did the same.)

Love of family, love of community, love of the life we're given - I think that's what Carl would want all of us to remember.

I won't forget.

 

Life is to be fortified by many friendships.
To love and to be loved is the greatest happiness of existence.

~Sydney Smith

 

 

In the darkest of times, laughter helps revolutionize our perspective.

~ Phil Callaway

 

a few of Carl's Eagle Scouts (all grown up) and fellow leaders...

[Love] bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails.

1 Corinthians 13:7-8

...especially with the support of friends.  Please continue to keep Carl's family in your prayers. 

 

The following video of the Missing Man formation was recorded by one of Carl's Eagle Scouts. The video below it features the lone bagpiper playing "Amazing Grace" on the runway...

 

 

"The Old Irishman has flown to see his God."

What do you say when you hear a friend has died? What can you say?

How do you dare mourn, or express your own sadness, knowing there's a wife, children, mother, sisters, nieces and more, tied by blood and longer memories than you have to your friend, whose pain you know has got to be so much worse than this ache you feel in your heart, even though you're mourning not just for your own loss but for theirs as well? 

Mostly for theirs...

I have typed words. Then deleted them. Then typed them again.

This has been a dark day, literally and figuratively. It's truly night now, but looking back over this day, I can't remember sunshine, can't remember anything but winter's heavy gray sky, barren and dry and cold.

Sunshine would have been wasted on me, anyway; I learned first thing this morning that a bright light on this earth had gone out, and no amount of sunlight could have brightened the day for me.

There are some people who are so full of life, who live it so fearlessly and joyfully, who have so much positive energy, that you easily imagine them invincible. Or maybe it's just impossible to imagine a world without them in it somewhere.

My friend Carl was that kind of person, and the news this morning that he was gone, killed in a plane crash ... well, it still doesn't seem possible.

There aren't any right words.

My heart breaks for his wife and their kids, for his mom, sisters, nieces ... theirs is a close-knit family. One thing's for certain, though: they knew Carl loved them. He made sure they knew it.

He lived a life without fear, a life full of love, a life following his passion and encouraging everyone around him to follow theirs. I truly believe he lived each day as if it were his last, not wanting to waste a single minute worrying over something he couldn't control but wanting to do everything within his power that he could, not wanting to have any regrets.

He did nothing halfway.

His faith, his energy, his smile were contagious. From what I could tell, he always saw the positive side of things, was always ready to lift you up if he noticed you scowling or frowning or getting discouraged. And he was always ready to step in and help someone, no matter how big the project; he could easily rally troops to help with the twinkle in his eye, his gift of gab, and sense of humor. 

I'm grateful our families were led to this same small community years ago; grateful that our lives became so tightly interwoven with theirs through scouts, church, school, community; grateful that those bonds have held tight.

I'm mostly grateful that Tom and I were able to see Carl just a few weeks ago, sharing several hours of music, dancing and laughter with him and Rachel at their annual Christmas party.

Lots and lots of music, dancing and laughter. 

I'm so grateful for this photo.

Carl impacted our community in many ways - organizing the Young Eagles program out here (thanks to him, my kids and I got to experience flying small planes); helping to create a Youth Foundation and youth center; chairing our church Octoberfest and tripling the proceeds of previous years with his big ideas, like raffling Harley Davidson motorcycles.

Carl was a big thinker, and encouraged everyone around him to think big, too.

When Tom stepped down as Scoutmaster, needing to focus on building our house, Carl stepped up to take over as leader and helped guide many boys, including our own, to the Eagle rank. (Did I mention Carl was an Eagle Scout?)

As treasurer of the troop, I witnessed firsthand how much the troop and Boy Scouts meant to him.

I doubt if any of us who knew him realize even half the impact he made in this world ... but some of that impact was evident in posts I read on Facebook today...

...My heart is broken by this news. Carl was such a great guy, and my heart hurts for Rachel and the kids. I will never forget him taking the cubscouts up for flying eagles. His involvement with Scouts and his generosity will be sadly missed. :(

...He was an amazing man. He was the troopmaster that led many young men to achieve their Eagle scout rank. These boys are now phenomenal young men. Thanks Carl

...God bless you Carl. He too led our son Bobby to become an Eagle Scout. Bobby is now a Corpsman in the US Navy. We pray for God's comfort for Rachel and family.

...he was so full of life and always full of surprises! He will be so missed!

...Rachel, I am so sorry to hear about Carl. He is the most amazing man who would sacrifice for anyone. The bench at the elementary school in the car rider line is there because Carl would do anything to help anyone. At a moment's notice he brought out his backhoe and helped us get that heavy bench delivered to the playground (donated by Troop 847). I never thought we could get it done, but he made it happen, because that's what he did! I'll never forget a phone call he made to me when I was having a problem, he touched my heart, because that is what he did! Much love, peace & prayers to you and your family! God bless!

But this one that tugs most at my heart, and for me, sums it up the best:

The old Irishman has flown to see his God.
Thank you Dad for all you ever were.
2.2.2011

Please join me in praying for solace for Carl's family as they face this huge loss in their lives, that they are always able to feel the warmth of Carl's smile, because I know it will continue to shine down on them.

 

Remembering...

Tommy and Graham's Eagle Court of Honor

Tom and Carl, helping with Daniel's Eagle project...

Swimming in The Notch at Buffalo Trails Scout camp (by Daniel)

Carl in action, at Court of Honor with Daniel

Honored for his service at Daniel's Eagle Court of Honor

 

With his mom, aunt and sisters, December '09

Rachel and Carl with Kirby at her graduation Dec. 09 

Jim, Carl and Jacque, talking scouts, New Year's Eve '09

Rest in peace, Carl.
"The old Irishman has flown to see his God."

 

"I don't want to work. I just want to bang on the drum all day." - Todd Rundgren

I spend a lot of time on things I enjoy ... walking through the Hollow, writing, photography, running, dancing, watching movies, reading, connecting with friends ... 

But there's one thing I do purely for fun. 

 

It benefits no one but myself. It's not something I can do with anyone else, like walking or dancing or watching Glee.  

It's not part of any goal or dream, like writing or photography. I don't harbor any fantasies of ever being any good - much less playing in a band one day! I'm starting to wonder if I can even improve at all!

 

Although it would seem to have some health benefits (it can be a pretty good workout and it's a great stress reliever!) they're canceled out by the racket that I'm sure is damaging my ears (and yes, mom, I wear ear plugs.) 

I don't learn anything from playing them.

No, wait. I do learn something.

 

I learn that even if I don't get any better, even if I can't multi-task while banging the drums, even if no one benefits from the time I spend on that little black stool, it's okay. 

It's okay to play just for the fun of it.

 

 

This is my contribution to Focus 52, a creative project sponsored by Jan at twoscoopz. This week the word is Play. Easy one for me! Banging the drums is pure play for me - I've tried, but can't think of any other motive with which to justify the time!

Click on the link HERE to check out the other contributions, but first (just for fun!) take a look at this great video sent to me by my friend George. I only hope to be this good one day. But if I never am, that's okay, too... (will someone send me some blue drumsticks?)

 

A Misty Morning and Lessons from Max

When Belle first peered through the French doors at me this morning, eager for our walk, the Hollow was still dark and blanketed in fog. It was beautiful but eerie ... the new sunlight created a world of gray. Silhouettes of trees were specters lining the back ridge.

The fog had begun to lift by the time I stepped outside; there was a hint of a clear blue sky above. Water droplets clung to every leaf, every weed, every naked bough, sparkling in the new sunlight.

By vantage of height, I spotted the herd of deer crossing the road far ahead of us at the bend; the dogs were oblivious, though, noses to the ground, "reading" the tales of the night, Max limping along with the hop, hop, step rhythm he's developed lately.

We're not sure what's causing this latest limp. We thought it was his elbow dysplasia acting up again, then we thought it was a cut on his paw pad, then we thought maybe it was an injury to his ankle. But feeling, prodding, poking - no reaction. No growl. No curled lip. Not even a flinch.

Whatever it is, it doesn't stop him - he jumps up from his bed, ready for his walk, and hobbles up the path. He pounces and plays with Belle, charges off into the woods after deer or phantom smells.

He grins in his goofy way, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, loving life.

Before Christmas, Tom and I teamed up for his annual checkup, herding him into the back of my Hyundai like shoving a cow into a chute. At the vet, they muzzled him, which always breaks my heart, even though I know it's necessary. He doesn't like being poked and prodded up there, especially if they get near his rear-end, and when he curls his lip in a silent snarl, it even scares me. I don't know that he would actually bite someone, but I don't want to take a chance. (When they're through inspecting him and take it off, he's all grins again. No grudges or lingering hard feelings, sweet puppy.)

For his elbow dysplasia, and subsequent swelling and arthritis, the vet gave us the okay to add aspirin therapy to the special regimen we already follow with him, and at first it seemed to help. But maybe it felt too good and caused him to over-do it again with some midnight run through the woods with Belle.

I worry about his elbow, about him going lame or causing injury to his other joints by putting too much pressure on them ... but now,mostly, I worry about his heart; the vet discovered he also has a heart murmur - the first stage of congestive heart failure. 

It doesn't come as a surprise. Max is a big dog ... a very big dog. I knew his size must put a load on his heart, already knew big dogs don't live as long as smaller ones in general. 

But now I see the numbers on each day I have with him. I'm aware of the countdown in a way I wasn't before the diagnosis. The vet confirmed that larger animals don't live with this as long as smaller animals. Any day, his heart could stop in mid-run or I could find him curled up in his cute way, nose tucked under a forearm, and realize he's gone, not sleeping. 

I feel cheated. Max is only 7, but every dog we've owned has lived into their teens. He already looks like an old man dog, and that breaks my heart, because inside of him is a perpetual 4-year-old boy. Just a puppy, full of innocence. Playful. 

But I also feel blessed that he picked us to share his life, however long it may be. I'm determined to help make each day he has left special. I owe him that for the joy he's brought to my life.

He wandered up from nowhere one Saturday afternoon, this big fluff of black fur. I didn't realize he was so young - he was almost as big as Charly, our white lab mix. I didn't know much about German Shepherd puppies, so I didn't recognize the signs that would have told me he wasn't much more than 8 weeks old... his ears that lay flat, his solid black fur and liquid black eyes.

It didn't matter, though. He wasn't ours. We figured he belonged to a neighbor and would wander back the way he came, eventually. The next morning he was still hanging around, but we put Charly in the garage so he wouldn't follow us, and headed for church.

When we returned, the puppy was gone. Back home, we imagined, and we were relieved; only a few weeks earlier, we'd had to put Charly's brother Chewy to sleep after they got into a terrible, bloody fight on our back deck. An Alpha Dog feud gone bad.

My heart still ached, missing Chewy. I wasn't ready for another puppy. Wasn't sure I'd ever be again, and certainly not for another male.

Two weeks later, Tom heard Charly barking in the woods at the back of our property. Following the sound, he discovered Charly standing and barking over that same black puppy, only now the puppy was so weak it couldn't stand. It obviously hadn't eaten much, if anything, since it left our house.

Tom carried him home and we gave him a little food. Poor thing was starving, but we took it easy so he wouldn't get sick.

I sent out emails, called the vet, the police, the animal shelter. Nothing. No puppy reported missing.

He joined me and Charly on our morning walk, moving slowly and not venturing far from my side, even when Charly wandered into the woods after something. I had never met such a calm puppy! But there's no telling what he had gone through before he found us.

We kept him, of course. I was going through the ache of my first 'baby bird' preparing to leave the nest, with two more stretching their wings and ready to fly as soon as possible; Max was the baby I needed at the time to distract me from my soon-to-be-empty nest.

He gradually gained strength, and size, and helped Charly rediscover his "inner puppy". And despite Max's dominant size, there was no doubt who was Alpha of the pair: Charly. 

We noticed the limp when he was about a year old or so, I think. A trip to an orthopedic veterinarian revealed a genetic elbow dysplasia that could cause lameness within a few years. It was too late for surgery, but the special food and supplements seemed to do the trick.

Until we got him a puppy. 

Charly had always been an old man, merely tolerating Max's antics, but Belle threw her whole self into playing. Literally. 

Despite his pain, Max is ecstatic. What a wise dog/puppy. He knows what's important in life, and passes the lessons on to us, as all good dogs do...

 

Lessons from Max

Set a good example - others look up to you.

Stay young at heart.

Play through the pain.

Be gentle when necessary ... but be ready to fight.

Sometimes a snarl is all that's needed.

Sometimes a grin is all that's needed.

If you need your belly rubbed, speak up.

Look for adventure.

It's okay to learn from someone younger than you ... even if they're of the opposite sex.

Accept help when you need it.

Sometimes you need people.

Show appreciation.

You're never too big to cuddle.

Smile when you're happy.

When you find a good home and people who love you, stay put.

 

Thanks for choosing us, Max. I love you!

 

 

Goodbye, weekend! I'll miss you!

The sun came out for the first time in days today. I made sure I slipped outside to feel its warmth on my skin. I've heard it's only visiting for a couple of days, then it's off again ... a gypsy sun, just popping in and out... so I didn't want to miss it!

I wish it had paid a visit this weekend. Instead, a cold misty rain hung around, which wouldn't have been bad if it had been a slow weekend close to home, one spent watching movies, reading, writing, keeping the fire going in the wood-burning stove...

But it wasn't. We had plans. Places to go. Things to do. And we didn't let that rain stop us, either, by golly!

Friday night Tom learned why I'm in love with Eddie V - and I think he might have fallen in love himself! We met my friend Tamara and her husband Rod there, just like my first rendezvous with Eddie V (it's a "where", not a "who", in case you're wondering), and again, for several hours I was in Taste Bud Heaven. The best part was getting to spend time with Tamara and Rod, though, and having Tom finally be able to enjoy their company as well.

Saturday evening we ignored the rain again and headed downtown to meet up with some of my former high school classmates and even some alumni I didn't know! Many of them traveled from the Houston area in the yucky weather for the gathering at Fado's, where lots of talking, laughing, reminiscing, eating, drinking, and listening of music ensued... specifically music by the band Mysterious Ways, a U2 tribute band, befitting an Irish Pub. 

The part for my versatile lens didn't arrive in time, so I did the best I could with my zoom... mostly photos of the band...

(I was playing around with the settings and got this one somehow - I think it's kind of creepy and cool at the same time!)

 

 

...and this one of me and my 9th grade boyfriend, Larry...

But before you get any ideas, look at this... you'll see Larry got around that night...

Sunday was my day-before-empty-nest day (see my last post), totally focused on TG... church, shopping, eating, delivering, hugging, and saying goodbye... for now. I refused to worry or stress about anything else except enjoying the time with her and helping her get a good start on the semester.

So far, I'm sticking with my resolution... what about you?

...I said hey, hey, hey, don't let another moment pass away...

 

 

Today I also thought about the impact Martin Luther King, Jr. made on our country. He was a man, just like any other... he had his faults, his sins... but that only shows that each of us is capable of more than we thought possible, too. These are some of his quotes that I call my favorites... they apply today as much as they did then.

Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase. 

He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it.
He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it. 

Never forget that everything Hitler did in Germany was legal. 

Means we use must be as pure as the ends we seek. 

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into friend. 

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. 

A Happy Holiday Blogtastic Shout-Out to Jillsy Girl

When Kate at Recommended Daily Dose invited me to participate in this year's Happy Holiday Blogtastic Shout-Out, I immediately thought of Jill and her blog, Jillsy Girl.

I really can't remember how it started ... did I leave the first comment or did she? However it happened, I know I'm the one who has benefited most from the friendship.

And yes, I said friendship. Despite what my daughter and others say, that you can't really be friends with someone you've never met face-to-face, I consider Jill my friend - and I don't toss that word around lightly. 

Friend (noun): someone you know, trust, and like; an ally in a fight, cause, or struggle; a patron or supporter.

Jill made it a point to comment on my blog almost every day - it bothered her that I didn't get many, if any, comments, and she was determined I'd get at least one. (It bothered me, too, and made me doubt myself and question why, oh why, I spent so many hours composing a post that would just drift into a void, seemingly unread, because without comments or feedback, that's how it feels. The answer, of course, is that I did it for myself - but it still bothered me.)

She would also email me ideas on how to make it easier to comment (she was brainstorming for me!) and give me shout-outs on her blog ... all in the hopes of increasing the number of comments I elicited.

Just knowing she thought my posts should garner more readers and comments made me feel more confident and less alone in the huge Blog World, which you might not realize can be a lonely place at times, full of cliques, until you find a comfortable niche of your own. (Kind of like junior high.) Despite two years of blogging under my belt and quite a few blog friends, I still felt on the outside looking in until Jill reached out to me. 

She had plenty of readers, her own circle of well-deserved fans, drawn to her beautiful photography, poetic words, and loyalty. She didn't need me, yet still she reached out to me and pulled me up, and not just with my blog, but also with my photography: through her invitation to a FlickR group, I found a new network of support and encouragement that helped ignite my latest obsession... 

...which led to Confessions of a Photography Addict. Go ahead - click over there for a second. See the photograph at the top? It's mine, but Jill took it and created that beautiful banner.

I didn't ask her to - she just did it.

That's a friend.

And a few days ago, she sent me an email with marketing ideas for my Silpada jewelry business. Can you believe it?

The thing is, I suspect I'm not the only one she supports like this. She is an amazing woman. I don't have to meet her face to face to know that. 

But I hope to someday, anyway. 

Thank you, Jill! I doubt you know just how much your friendship has meant to me the past few months.

Now do yourself a favor and click HERE to check out her blog, and while you're there, be sure to click on the link to JG Studio Cards. I can vouch for the beauty of Jill's cards, all created from some of her own amazing photographs.

And be sure to visit A Recommended Daily Dose (another wonderful blog) to find links to the other shout-outs! Thanks so much for hosting this and inviting me, Kate! I'm glad we've connected here in the Blog World, too!

 

 

 

What's in Your Box?

It's been a morning of sadness for me. A morning for shedding tears.

Several emails waited quietly in line to inform me that a friend from my DuPont days was killed over the weekend. 

Roger wasn't one of my closest friends out there - I'm not sure if we ever even worked the same shift, and if you weren't on the same shift, you rarely saw someone. When you were off, they were working, and vice versa.

But we hired on at the same time and spent several months together in a portable building, learning how to be plant technicians while the columns and structures across the street slowly grew into a methanol and syngas plant. And for the next thirteen years our paths criss-crossed at shiftchange and shutdowns and hours of overtime (his, not mine) when I'm sure we spent time together.

I know we did because, even though conversations from just this past weekend are already wispy clouds, drifting from my memory, I have no trouble recalling Roger's voice describing some of the fun times he had as a Houston policeman, and I can vividly picture him standing in the hallway near our lockers, hear him singing "Guac-a-mole in my shoes" (to the tune of that old Joe South song, "Walk a Mile in My Shoes") in his big country voice.

I hear him singing it every time I fix guacamole, in fact.

He was a good singer - Tom and I went to hear his band once, years ago. I had forgotten about that until now. 

And just a couple of weeks ago I was telling TG an embarrassing story about myself that involved Roger; thanks to him, I learned to think twice about what I wore to the plant. It was a lesson in double entendres...

...I collected concert t-shirts...I often wore them to work (pre-Nomex days)...my boyfriend and I had just gone to see "Cheap Trick"... 

Got the picture? Roger glanced at me and said, with a wink, "Cheap trick, huh?"

And I blushed. Up until that moment, I swear I thought by "cheap trick". the band meant "being mean to someone". You know, playing a dirty trick on them. It never, ever hit me that it meant...well, you know.

Not a smart thing to wear when you're one of a handful of women in a male-dominated, mostly male-populated workplace, and I was always grateful to Roger for waking me up to those kinds of things. He knew I was just naive.

But it truly amazes me (and it amazed TG) that I could be so naive!

I have no idea what happened to that shirt. It had been a favorite until then...I do know I never, ever wore it to work again.

Anyway, I was lucky I worked with guys like Roger...guys who would joke around with me, but showed respect and were ready to protect me, like a bunch of big brothers.

So when I read that he died a hero, trying to protect someone, I wasn't surprised.

According to the articles (here and here), Roger and his wife were at a friend's bar celebrating a birthday. The assailant started an argument with the friend, pulled out a revolver and shot him. Roger tried to wrestle the gun from the man and was shot during the struggle.

Roger and his wife would have celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary on Dec. 19...

I knew from working with Roger that he was a good guy...but reading his obituary revealed, as they so often do, just what kind of good guy he was:

"Roger was a Master Mason and member of the Texas City Lodge 1118. He was a Shriner with the El Mina Shrine Temple in Galveston and was very dedicated to helping “his kids”. He participated in many benefits in Galveston County – helping in any way he could to raise the necessary monies that “his Shrine kids” needed.

Roger loved fishing, hunting, and cooking. He loved to cook for a crowd and for 5 years he had a shrimp boil for the Shriners Hospital employees just to let them know he cared and appreciated their hard work and dedication. He was also a wonderful musician and loved to “pick and grin” any chance he got."

I thought about my post from yesterday, about each day being a gift from God. Roger lived that theory, filling up each day he was given and giving back so much of himself.

Gifts and giving. I thought about Christmas gifts, thought about some of my favorites, including one from my brother Donnie years ago when I was about 5 and he was 10...a shoebox full of some toys he didn't want anymore, like this funky orange rubber motorcycle.

When I opened the box, though, I didn't see a bunch of unwanted toys; I saw a box full of treasure... these were toys that I identified with my big brother, toys I had coveted. He knew I would want them. Starting with an empty box, he carefully chose the toys and placed them in there himself, one at a time, then wrapped it up for me; it was a gift of love.

At that moment I imagined our lives as an empty box - that's really our gift...what we're given. It's up to us to fill it, and to choose what, if anything, we put in it each day. Ultimately, we're just giving it back, and the gift we're given is the freedom to make what we give back a gift of love or a gift to toss in the trash. 

Reading his obituary, it's obvious Roger's box overflowed with good things; I could feel him winking at me, reminding me to stop and think about what was in mine, just like he made me stop and think about what I was wearing so many years ago. 

Rest in peace, Roger, and thanks for continuing to be a good guy in a world where we can't afford to lose a single one. 

 

(Roger's the 2nd tall one from the left in the back...I'm the 2nd one from the right in the middle row...not a great photo, but hey, it's from 1978!)

(Our first company Christmas party...Bob on the left, Roger on the right. I'll be nice and just say they were very different.)

Photo from his obituary...he still looks exactly the same to me as he did two decades ago... maybe a full box is the secret of youth.