Happy Birth Day to Samuel Rueben Seeger!!

Many years ago in a land far away, lived a simple woman who dreamed some day she would have a son and she knew she would name him Samuel Rueben.  The first year she had a daughter and named her Debra Louann.  The next year she had a daughter and named her Patricia Lynn.  The third year she had a daughter and named her Dona Marie.  The fourth year she had a son and when she told the sister in the Catholic Hospital in the Catholic town his name was Samuel Rueben they gasped and crossed themselves and told her that could not happen.  Samuel Rueben was a Jewish name and she was a Protestant.  She insisted.  Now you need a little background on this simple creature so here it is....

Back in those days religions were set in stone.  She was not Catholic.  She was not Jewish.  She was not anything in particular, which made her a Protestant.  Back then it mattered.  Her husband came to the hospital to peer at the baby boy through the glass and his work was done.  He would be back to get her in 5 days.  He did not care what it's name was so she was alone in her protestations that the name was Samuel Rueben.  The sisters refused to write the name.  Finally, the day came to leave and the baby had no name.  She knew she had to do something so she named him Earl Edward, but in her heart he was Sam.  They let her go home with the baby now that it had a "proper name."

Her husband was stunned that the baby was not named Samuel Rueben, but Earl was his given name, so he accepted that.  It was 4 months before her mother asked the baby's name.

"What is the baby's name?  I know it is Samuel, but Samuel what?"

"His name is Earl Edward."  And thus came the tear filled confession that she had let the Catholic sisters bully her into naming him something besides Samuel Rueben.

Never was the baby ever called Earl by anyone.  He was called Sam.  It is now 54 years later and he is known in the work place as Sam.  He is known at home as Sam.  He went to school as Sam and Earl Edward is only used on legal papers like wills and such.  He was named after his father who was Earl, but he called him Sam.

You might ask why I did not insist on putting it on his birth certificate, but you would have to have known me back then.  I was a very weak person back then and second guessed everything I did.  I tried to please everyone around me.  I still fight a daily battle to know that I am really worth something in this world.  It is called co-dependency and is a complicated little personality disorder.  I read books on it.  I went to a couple meetings on it.  It is very common in conjunction with living with an alcoholic.  I married 3 alcoholics in rapid succession and divorced them in rapid succession before I decided it was my problem and not theirs.  People who know me now just think I am an overbearing b----, and they may very well be correct.  That is alright.  Some people actually like me!

So there you have it...Another confession from the warped mind of Lou Mercer.  The more I write about things, the more I understand myself.  Hopefully, some day, I will no longer be a work in progress, but will be a normal person with normal wants and needs.  When that day comes, I hope I am no longer afraid of spiders, because I gotta' tell you, that is a big one!

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference."

Coming to a close?

As I enter this last quarter of the year, I also enter a time that makes me sad.  It begins with my birthday, and then Jake's birthday 4 days later.  2 of my kids were born in October.  My brother died in October.  I got a divorce or 2 in October, but most of my divorces were good things.  Actually, all of them were good things.  Mother always said that old people, and sick people are like the leaves on the tree.   People die in the fall when the leaves fall from the tree.  Actually, people seem to be dying around me with an amazing regularity.  Not all of them are old, but a lot of them are.  I guess I am old so I may be in this years Autumn leaf drop.  Maybe, maybe not.  I just know fall is my least favorite season and October is my least favorite month.

Mother died in the Springtime; Kenny in the Winter.  The point is, death is becoming a regular visitor and I do not like that.  I have one sister left.  No brothers, no uncles, no aunts.  I am now the older generation and I do not like that.  I used to have someone to guide me and lead me and teach me the things to say and do, but now I fly by the seat of my pants and my wisdom is not always the best.  There was a time I could spout wisdom and Bible verses and quote the leader of the day.  Now, I just don't seem to give a damn.  My time is mostly spent moving stuff from one pile to another in anticipation of some day having a garage sale and getting rid of enough junk that I could possibly move into a small place in town.  That and napping through Jeopardy! is about the extent of my ambition.  Good thing I am good at napping, because that is about all I am good for.

At one point I thought I would write a sequel to my first book, but I have been stuck on chapter 5 for 4 years now and every time I think about picking it up, I have to reread the whole thing to jog my memory and then it is time for another nap.  It seems to be a vicious circle.

At one point I thought I should start dating, but I expect way to much out of a man.  First, he has to be neat, which I am not.  He has to be ambitious enough to want to take me for a walk, but able to understand that I am not broken to a leash.  Opening car doors is nice.  I would love to go dancing.  That is something I did all my life, until Kenny.  Poor little guy, had not a lick of rhythm in his whole body, so dancing was out.  Not sure I remember how to do that anymore, but I would love to try.  Conversation is a must.  I love to talk and I love to listen.  That does not mean I will remember anything that was said, but something might find fertile ground.

I do not know how I made the leap from my dread of October to dating, but I did!  I do my best thinking early in the morning and now it is going on 8:00 AM so I have pretty much shot my wad for the day.  Oh, well, maybe tomorrow will be better.  In the meantime, here is a poem that somebody, some where wrote and some teacher made me memorize it.  It has a lot of wisdom in it, so take it for what it is worth.

"The wise old owl sat on the oak.
The more he saw, the less he spoke.
The less he spoke the more he heard.
We should all try to be like that wise old bird." 

Yep, I am marching onward.

Woke up his morning and had a serious thought.  Probably not my first one, but this one seemed a little morbid even to me!  My Happy Birthday is coming and while that is a cause for celebration it is also a very sobering thought.  Remember when we were young and and our birthday came and it was a milestone?   For me it was great!  When I was young that meant I took 8 or whatever number of pennies to church and stood in front of the kids and dropped the pennies one at a time into the candle bank on the table.  As each penny dropped the kids all counted;  "One!" "Two!"  Little did it matter that I had started out with pennies and I was going home with nothing.  For a few minutes I had been the center of the room.  Everyone had looked at me and sang the birthday song to me!  For a few minutes everyone was happy that I was born. 
But as I grew older the symbolism changed.  Thirteen meant I was not a teenager.  Then sweet sixteen and I never really knew what that signified.  Eighteen was the legal age of consent and shortly thereafter I married for the first time.  By my twenty-first birthday I had started my family.  By 30 I was a single mother with 5 kids.  What had started out as marking milestones was now becoming more of a habit.  The cakes got bigger and the candles got hotter.  By the time I reached 40 I was settled into what would become my middle age with my husband that would prove to be my last.  We lived a very comfortable life.  The kids left home and we adopted a grandson. 
My 60th birthday found me a widow with a pre-teen son.  It was at this time that I began toying with the idea of a "bucket list".  Now be aware that I said "toying with the idea."  An old woman with a teenage son does not have time to entertain many ideas at all.  First get him through school and out into the world and then figure out my life.  That proved almost an insurmountable task, but now it is finished.  He has a home and a new son and needless to say, a woman to replace me.  So here I set contemplating my birthday.
Let's take stock of the situation.  I have no goals set on the horizon.   I guess I do though.  Take this  morning.  It is a blessing.  I woke up, stood upright and am taking nourishment.  I have my day planned.  I am going to go buy Ziploc bags to bag up 25 pounds of  flour that was given to me to take to Los Pobres.  I am going to make a batch of cinnamon rolls to give away.  This afternoon I have a  lady  to set with so her daughter can catch a break.  I digressed there for a moment.  Back to the birthday thing.
I guess what I am trying to convey here is that when I was young and my life stretched out on an endless path before me, birthdays were important.  Now they are not.  At some point they stopped being celebrations and became more of mileposts on the way to the grave.  Every time I add a year to my age, I get closer to not having another birthday.  The good Lord in his wisdom gave us only so many years.  Some he did not give so many, but some he gave a lot.  I am afraid I am one of those to which he has given a whole lot.  I see my life behind me and I look ahead.  I see no hope of a quiet peaceful death any time soon.  The body keeps functioning and the mind keeps working and the grass keeps growing.  And I keep mowing it. 
I wish life had come with an instruction book.  But if it had, would I have read it?  If I had read it, would I have followed the instructions? I knew on some level that my first husband was going to be a mistake.  But I forged ahead.  Had I not, I would not have all my children.  I can not imagine my life without my kids.  And my grandkids.  And my great grandkids.  I have made lots of mistakes, but there is no getting the toothpaste back in the tube, as my mother used to say.  Sorry is a word that is over used because in my life "sorry" just doesn't even touch it.  But here I am, alive and well.  One of my kids tells me "What doesn't kill you makes you strong."  I expect I am one strong bitch by this time.
So, I will mark another year down the tubes and prepare for another to come.  That is how we do it here on earth.  Some day the good Lord may see fit to reach down and tap me on the shoulder.  When that happens I am going to listen this time.  And my kids will stand at my memorial and say nice things about me.  Maybe.  At least I hope so.
I remember how overwhelmed I was the day we buried my mother.  That was a lot of years ago, but the loneliness is still there.  Kids just have a special bond with their mother.  My kids  will be no different.  I hope they can take comfort in knowing that I loved them all.  I loved everyone the same; not one more than the other.  Each one was special in a special way.   At the risk of becoming morbid, I need to wind this up and go bake something.
So Happy Birthday to me!  Another one in the books as we used to say after a catering job or when one of my wedding cakes went out the door.  Enjoy this day.  Enjoy your next day.  Love your family and love your friends.  Do a good deed along the way and smile at someone on the street.  You have today.  Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.  There is no tomorrow. 

And who will eat my cinnamon rolls, asked the little red hen.

I woke up this morning in my usual why in the hell bother mood this morning.  First I made a batch of cinnamon rolls just because.  Then I checked out facebook and found the usual drama and who gives a damn anyway.  Then I pulled on some rattier than usual clothes and headed out back to drag the limb from the Apricot tree to the back to burn.  I remembered how the limb got on the ground.  I cut it with my little bow saw.  Oh, I had lots of friends who were going to do it.  Sure, it was no problem.  But in the meantime it kept rubbing on the gutter and the roof.  So I cut it and let it fall.  And there it lay.  Until now.    
Now it is in the back to be destroyed.  Of course my mind was working all the time my body was dragging those heavy limbs and I did sustain 5 new wounds in my leg and a really big one in my arm, which did not help my mood at all.

I have set a date of September 30 as some of you know, but few know what it means.  I will now tell you.  October 1 is my birthday.  I will be 74 years old.  I have spent the first half of my life doing for others in one way or another.  I have been a wife, mother, friend, confidante and whipping post.  I have cooked, cleaned, listened, wept, laughed, and sacrificed for anyone who asked.  I have loaned or given away a small fortune to anyone who needed it for what ever reason.  I asked nothing in return.  And usually that was what I got.

I know in order for me to live the last half of my life doing for myself, I will need to live to be 146 years old and we all know there is not much chance of that happening, but I am going to give it one helluva shot.  If not in a blaze then at least I am going to remember to thank every body for all they did for me.   I have a few minutes before I have to be through the shower and in to town, so I shall do that now.

To the men in my life who unloaded goose food out of the back of my car over the last 12 years, thank you.  Oh, wait!  Never mind, that was me.
To the kind soul who mowed my grass on this acre of greenery, thank you.  Oh, wait!  Never mind, that was me.
To the people who shovel my walk in the winter and break the ice on the pond out back, thank you.  Oh, wait!  Never mind, that was me.
To the people who eat my cinnamon rolls and then help clean up the kitchen, thank you.  Oh, wait!  Never mind, that was me.

To the people who tell me I do too much and I should learn how to say no, what if I had told you no?

To the friends who pick up the phone and call for no reason except to hear my voice and tell me to have a good day, thank you.  You know who you are.

If you borrowed it and brought it back, thank you.
If you borrowed it and did not bring it back, keep it

If I offended you, I apologize.
If you offended me, I forgive you.

Some of you will read this and assume I am nuts.  So be it.  We all have opinions.  They are just like butt holes, we all have them.
Some of you are sure it is not you I mean.
Some of you will think, oh, I should call her for no reason.  Don't bother.  Just write it off to Lou having a bad day.

Some of you will have no clue what I am talking about.

Whatever, just wait and see if October 1 brings a change.  If you call and I do not answer after that day, you will know you did not make the cut!

Happy Birthday, Sonny!

Today you turn 21!

 

I know you think that this is the pinnacle, but you are so wrong.  Now you can drink legally.  You are the age of majority.  21!  Off to Cripple Creek?  Have fun.  I would like to say my work here is done, but that is not the case.

I have yet to be "done" raising any of them.  You were just the last one.  Now it is up to you to go out into the world and make a mark that will tell the world that your momma did a good job.  Tell them that you hold the same values today that I instilled in you for the last 21 years.  True I was not your mother all those years, but I was always there.  Just around the corner and a phone call away.

I was there when you grew pot in your room.  There when you skipped school.  There when you made the merit roll, and when you didn't.

And now you are living out on your own, paying your own way,  with your own girlfriend, your own dogs and whatever else, but try to remember that momma is still here.

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. BRET A. MERCER!!!



 

 

Happy Birthday to the baby boy!

Kind of hard to tell that this is my baby boy.  But it is.  Last one of the litter.  And today he turns 20.  Just one more before the big one.  Course he has already flown the nest and he and his girlfriend are in their own home in Florence.  You would be amazed at what all they are learning.  Gas to drive to and from work is very costly.  And groceries are out of sight.  It is not really necessary to have 2 cell phones with "Everything data" from Sprint for $178.00.  That is not all though.  They have also figured out that if they do not pick up after themselves, house work is a never ending chore.  Think that was their rudest awakening.  I have figured out that they were not the only messy ones living here.
But it is his happy birthday and I can not help but remember where I was when I turned 20.  I had been married for 11 months and was 5 months pregnant with the Debbie.  A couple months earlier we were living in Yates Center, Kansas.  I had gone to the doctor and when he said I was going to have a baby my mind leapt around the small town. 
" Well, where is the hospital?"  That seemed like a very good question to me.  He, however, looked at me like I had just landed my spaceship.
"Well, it is about 75 miles away."
"Well, what about when I get ready to have his baby?  How do I get there?"  Then he sighed and looked at me like I was a complete idiot.
"Well, around these parts, women have their babies to home."  I immediately left his office, ran down the street to where I had left Duane in the pool hall, having a beer to settle his nerves.  When he saw my face he knew we had a situation.
"What did the doctor say?"  And I broke it to him as gently as possible given my terrified state.
"Well, he said pack up your clothes because you are going to have to move back to Hutchinson, cause there is no where to have babies around here."  And we did.
Now what all that has to do with Bret is more than I can understand, but you knew I would make it into something all about me, didn't you?
So, Happy Birthday to the baby boy.  I know he will not get to read this because his new frugal lifestyle does not allow him to have high speed internet and even if he did he does not read my blog.  I only have 3 kids out of  10 that does.  That is 30%.  Kind of poor percentage rate if you ask me, but who am I to judge?
OK. I have got to figure out what to do for the little guy's birthday.  Probably spanking him is clear out of the question.  And when they grow up and leave home, momma is no longer responsible for his every thing like when he was a baby.

But gee, I kind of miss those days.!

Happy Birthday to you, sonny!

Well, today is my son's Happy Birthday.  He lives in Dallas, Texas so I will not be running by with a cake.  And I am not going to tell you how many candles is on the cake he will have, assuming some one will come up with one.  But I can tell you this, when he was born he was very small and very bald,  but he was also very pretty.  That is assuming a man can be pretty and in my world they can and often are.  He was always a studious little fellow.  He used to grab up the cat and walk around explaining to said cat how the universe came into being.  Maybe you find that behaviour a bit strange?  That was back in Hutchinson, Kansas.
He went off to Garden City to live with his father early on, which was fine.  He excelled in school and drama.  He did move to Colorado to be with me most of his high school years and continued in the drama club until his Junior year, but that is another story.
So I just want to tell the little fellow who is no longer little Happy Birthday and wish him all the best.  I wish I were there!

This was last year's Christmas Tree!

Now even I have to admit that is a sad sight for a Christmas Tree!  That was last year and this year is shaping up to be a little bit better.  This poor dead tree is laying out by the trash barrel and is well on it's way to becoming compost!  Bret and Amanda have the big tree up over there where the treadmill is so we are good to go.  Course if someone hits the button the tree is going to shoot out through the front window.

Today would have been Kenny's birthday, had he hung around, but we know he did not.  Being a widow pretty much sucks if you want to know the truth of the whole matter.  Divorces are so cathartic!  Mother always told me, when I was ranting and raving  about something one of the idiot husbands had done to bring about the latest divorce, "If you are ever a widow your husband will take on sainthood."  Mothers are always right!  I do not understand that, though, because I am a mother and I am not always right!  I digress.

I have been alone 7 years.  That is a long time.  From Thanksgiving until the end of January, I pretty much stay in a funk.  I had lunch yesterday with a minister friend and he was telling me how lackadaisical he has been the last few weeks.  We talked a bit and then he mentioned his mother had been gone just one year.  I then explained to him how the grief cycle works.  Anniversaries are just that.  We may not even realize, but when we put our finger on it, we know.

So does life go on?  Sure it does.  We mark one month, then one year, then 5 years, and so it goes.  What is our alternative?  There is none.  Do our memories become less acute?  Sure they do.  What was raw emotion fades to a dull ache and that eventually turns into just another day.  Another page on the calendar and just another day to get through.  Sometimes I actually think I am going to be happy again, someday.  For now it will just have to do that the Christmas Tree is up and I think it is pretty.  I will spend more time in church this season and do a little more volunteer work.  I am actually going to Colorado Springs for the volunteer party at SCAP.  Never did that before, but Linda is insisting on it this time.

So as we enter this Holy Season, I want to tell you Merry Christmas way early.  I will miss Kenny this year, but I miss him every day anyway.  I think all the little fellow ever wanted was for me to be happy, so after seven long years I am going to work on that and it is going to start this Christmas.  I have friends and family.  I have people who love me and need me and if I can spread the cheer, that is what it is all about.  And remember,

Jesus is the reason for the season!

One year old has the blues!!

Here is the little fellow at his first birthday party all covered with blue frosting!! Doesn't he look sad? He may just be realizing that the easy part is over now and the hard part begins. He has to learn to walk and talk, the potty training and then it is off to school so he can learn all it takes to finish growing up and how to make a living. Then it is off to work and a wife and a baby who will someday be one year old and have blue frosting and start the whole cycle over again!