Looking back.....

 Looking back at my life I can see clearly now!  All the things I should have done as opposed to the things I actually did.  My very clear looking back memory show me setting in the church office with the Reverend Rush J. Barnett.  His wife, Genevive and daughter, June bug were some where in the house, but I was in the office talking about my future.  Reverend Barnett was preacher at the First Christian Church in Nickerson, Kansas.  It was one of three churches.  There was the Baptist Church and the Methodist Church.  There were no other churches.  No Catholic Church.

Anyway, I was 16 years old and we were discussing my future as a missionary in Africa.  As soon as I was 18 years old, I could begin the firm plans as to education and all that stuff.  It would be a non paying job, but at 15, I did not need money.  A little food and the clothes on my back.  The church would be responsible for all my travel and I had no other needs at that point in my life. Ah, but the best laid plans of mice and men oft' times go awry!  Not sure I know where I picked that up, but alas it is the God's truth if it were ever written.  Reverend Rush J.Barnett along with his wife and precious baby were transferred "back east."

His replacement was there within a month.  Reverend Johnson and his wife, whatever her name was and his pimply faced son moved into the parsonage.  I do not remember the son's name, only that he was creepy and had a bad case of acne.  Dreams of Africa were laughed out of my head by this new preacher.  Mother finished her schooling, and it was not long after that we made the move from Nickerson, Kansas, population1009 people to Hutchinson, Kansas, population 29,000.  We never traveled back to Nickerson, though it was only 12 miles.  We never bothered finding another church.  I never bothered dating either.  I did not seem to really fit in anywhere, so I took up drinking.  I had a friend whose father made home brew.  Since he was rarely home, we had free rein on the liquor cabinet.

I dropped out of school my senior year, fell in love shortly thereafter.  We were married 3 weeks later and began the life of moving from town to town with my husband working as a tree trimmer.  Our home was usually a furnished apartment in a town where Duane worked until the tree jobs ran out.  Then we would throw our meager belongings in the car and move on to the next town.  It was life as we lived it and being young and in love it worked for us.

Or it did until he decided he wanted to have a baby.  I thought a home first was the order of the day, but not in his world.  I pictured a vine covered cottage with a baby on the floor and he pictured something else.  I was never sure just what he had in mind for security.  I was pretty sure of one thing, if I was going to have a baby there was going to be a doctor and a hospital somewhere in the picture. And there was.  We were two novices at the business of building a home and family with no tools whatsoever, and no guidance from anyone.  But we did it.  We managed to have 5 of those little babies and they have all grown and gone now. He wanted to build an empire for his kids.  That was his dream. 

But I want to tell you that we ended up with 4 girls and one boy.  They are all functioning members of society.  They all pay taxes and most of them vote.  They may actually all vote.  I can not tell you if they are Republicans or Democrats, but I would bet most of them are Independent.  Mother was a fire breathing, Rush Limbaugh following Republican.  I am Independent.  Mom and I never really discussed politics.  I paid for her subscription to Limbaugh's newsletter, but I never read it.

Now, I am the mother.  I am the Matriarch!  My momma told me that.  The Patriarch died many years ago.  He is gone, but he is not forgotten.  60 years ago Lucy and Duansie built the framework of the Seeger Empire.  After we divorced and he built his home in Western Kansas we thought about reconcilling, but that was not to be.  We were now two completely different souls. Several years later we met some where and I asked him, "Well Duane, how is the Seeger Empire nowadays?"  Without missing a beat he replied, "The Seeger Empire is a tad bit shaky!"

But it was his dream and he lived it.  I am glad I was there for part of it anyway.  Humble beginnings is what life is all about.

Fly high, my first love!  We are leaving a legacy in the five kind, loving children we bore and raised to adulthood.  

Gotta' take credit for that!

In a perfect world.

I have a little grandson who is going to be 4 in February.  In a perfect world he would be my great grandson, but as you all know, this is not a perfect world.  He is very smart, or at least I think so.  My mind does not recall how old my oldest child was when I was divorced and began supporting myself by working 2 and 3 jobs.  The point here is that I never kept the baby books up to date.  I do not remember when any of them started walking, nor what their first words were.  I do not recall when they started stringing words into sentences, nor when they picked up a pencil and wrote.  In a perfect world, I would have done that, but in the reality that was my life, a roof over our heads and food in our tummies far outweighed the baby books.  We all survived.

I had 5 children,  8 grand children, and 11great grand children.  I now have 6 children, 7 grand children and 10 great grand children.  There have been no deaths, just a reshuffling of status.  Kenneth and I adopted one of the grand children, which makes him a child now instead of a grand child.  This also makes his son a grand child instead of a great grand child.  And that , my friends is how I now (at 78 years of age)  have a 3 year old grand son.  And this also brings me to the point of this story.

For privacy sake, I shall call him Little Boy.  Little Boy goes to pre school and is very smart.  My children went to Grandma Bensing who was paid to keep them alive for however many hours I was at work.  Little Boy is 3 1/2 years old and knows his alphabet, his numbers and speaks in sentences.  He spends 2 days and one night with me.  It seems to me, that every week he is growing and maturing into a little old man.  I do not remember how my kids grew.  It seems like they were little and then they were big and then they were gone and I never saw it happen.  I have their school pictures and I remember some of the things they said that surprised me, but I just do not know when it happened.

I remember once when Susie was tiny, they wanted to take her to school for show and tell.

I remember when we had a fluffy puppy and they gave it a bath and when the hair got wet it scared them because "Fluffy's bones are poking out!"

Debbie was always the little mother.  Came from being the oldest, I guess.  I sent her to Church group one Saturday.  It was on the river.  She left the group and walked up to my working place which was about a mile and a half up main street.  They could not find her when it was time to leave.  I received a frantic phone call wanting to know where she was.  At that time she was walking and no one knew where she was.  But I do not remember how old she was.  Probably 10 or so.

I remember Sam carrying on long conversations with the cat.  I remember being at the bank with him one day and he wanted something and I told him I did not have money.
He said "Why are we here?"
"This is where I bank."
"Get some money from here."
"There is no money in here."
"Well what kind of bank is it that has no money?"

Dona and Patty always slept together wrapped in each others arms.  Patty would fall asleep when I brushed her hair.

Sam had a speech impediment and could not make the "h" sound.  This made the teacher think that his father was a hard working man who should be providing for us better because he "did three jobs" instead of "Daddy does tree jobs."

I never missed a program at school, or a conference, or an outing, or a birthday.  I just did not write it down.

So now when Baby Boy does something, I am amazed.  He speaks in sentences.  Wednesday night he counted his toes.  Several times.  He had 10.  I have a pair of skeleton shoes which separates my toes into 4 compartments on each foot, the 2 small toes going in one slot.  He counted my toes.  I had 8.  He counted again and I still had 8.  He counted his.  He had 10.  I finally had to take the shoes off so he could get an accurate count.  Good memory and reasoning skills there.

He likes to eat Chinese so we stop and I order one meal with the fried rice in a separate bowl.  That is all he wants.  His dad is a meat eater; he could care less. My kids ate anything that did not eat them first.

He raked the yard yesterday with the mop.  His dad grew pot in the closet down stairs.

His dad took him fishing and he caught a cat fish.  When Bret asked him why he did not take the fish off the hook, he said, "Because I am too afraid."

It makes me very sad when I look back over my life and see what I missed raising my kids.  I should have had time to write things down, but the time did not come until later in life and now I have to rely on memories.  Most of my memories are shrouded in a cloak of sleep deprivation and running from one job to another.

I only wish I had taken the few moments it required to jot it down, but at that time other things took precedince.  Now it is too late, and when I die the memories will die with me.

And that makes me very sad.

The straw that broke the camels back.

I am a patient person.  Really!  Through my life I have tolerated things that went against my grain for the sake of  "peace in the marriage," "peace in the church,"  "peace in the job place, "peace on earth," and the whole nine yards.  I am generally a peace loving person, but when I get a belly full, I am done.  I tolerated my first husbands drinking and general bad behavior for 10 years and then I was done.  Kit and caboodle was out of there.  I lasted 6 years at my first job until the boss got under my skin one too many times, and out the door I went.  It took me 2 years to leave the church I attended for 15 years before I started attending First Church.  I was seeing a guy for the last 5 years, but then I reached the point where, "Nope!  not this time.  I deserve better than this."  So here I set reflecting on just what I am going to get sick and tired of next.

Mother taught me well, the lessons of life.  She always told me that "some day you will have a belly full of that and it will all change."  "Oh, but momma, I love him so." And when I came dragging in with my kids in tow, asking for a place to stay, she simply said, "So what was the straw that broke the camel's back?"  Reflecting back on that particular time in my life, I do not remember.  Like she said, I just got my belly full.  One indignity at a time, one day at a time, one word at a time and it all adds up to a load that I could no longer carry.

Same with the church.  I loved that church.  That church helped me over rough spots when I was first aware of the AIDS epidemic.  That church was there when we adopted our grandson.  And that church saw me through losing my husband.  But then one straw at a time, they changed direction and made choices that I thought were unfair.  I tried to right them, but the camel could not carry me through.  And so I left.

The jobs were always easy to walk away from, because I figure if I am working 8-9 hours a day in an environment where I am happy and feel appreciated, I can tolerate the customers and the demands, but I can not survive in an atmosphere of discontent.  Not happening.

As for the last boyfriend, he was just that.  Not going to try that again.  I can not blame him.  The personality that I perceived was not the personality that was his true inner self.  There are traits I must have in friends and I do not know if he changed or his true self came out, but either way, history has stepped in and that is water under the bridge.  It takes a helluvaman to walk through life with me.  And as the saying goes, "Many are called, but few are chosen."  (That one may have came from the Bible and not from Mother.)

So, now let's get back to looking for that camel I was talking about.  Right now, I am taking a hiatus from life as I know it.  I have been Don Quixote for too many years.  I have tilted my blade at Homophobics, AIDS, DACA, Homelessness, Poverty, the environment, politics, animal welfare, domestic violence, adoption, Black lives matter, all lives matter, Indigenous people, NFL kneeling,
and God only knows what else.  I have retired from Hospice, Posada, Save the Whales and am now setting at home and looking at the mess I have made of my life.

I have a house full of junk because I have ran through the gambit of ceramics, sewing, quilting, knitting, weaving, gardening, and any other hobby you can conceive.  I have every item ever needed to do any hobby you think could have been invented.  I am old.  I want a house I can live in that does not have 4 levels and a yard I can look at and not have to mow for 2 hours once a week.  My dogs are old.  My geese are old.  Cat: not so much.

I can close my eyes and see that little mother of mine looking down with her fingers over her mouth and the twinkle in her bright little hazel eyes and asking me,  "So what did you think was going to happen when you started all this?  And just which straw broke this camel's back?"

Thanks, mom!

Update on the garden situation here in the Rockies.

I tilled a couple weeks ago, being careful not to till up the asparagus or the green onions.  (Which I missed harvesting last fall because the weeds took the garden and I could not find them.)  At that time I planted green beans and potatoes.  The green beans came up, but they froze last week under 9 inches of snow.  Potatoes did not even make an effort!  The strawberries, which I planted in the leaking horse tank that I filled with dirt and covered with a tarp before the snow, are doing beautifully and have tiny, teeny green strawberries about the size of a turnip seed setting on them.  The 6 tomatoes that I planted with the strawberries after the snow are setting on little bitty tomatoes.  Now if I could figure out something that uses both strawberries (which I really do not like) and tomatoes, I could have something high fiber for lunch.
The Red Bud tree is broken in the middle and looks very sad.  That happened when it snowed.  The snow was very destructive and I am now losing 2 of my evergreens.  The wild rose bushes fared well and I am happy to report that not a weed was damaged!  The bind weed is in full bloom and has leaves of record size.  (Sarcasm in case you do not recognize it!)
Patty and Bill were here for a week and Bill got a lot of my chores done.  He moved the books in the garage as well as the boxes.  We treated the stumps and he cut the broken limbs and drug them out back to the burn pile.  He took over "goose duty" thus freeing me up to watch Jeopardy!  He mashed all my aluminum cans and we took them to the recycle.  My car was full and we split $12.00.  May not seem like much but it is $12.00 more then we had.  His thumb is healed and they are going to try to lengthen his tendons this next week and hopefully it will be back to work for Willy!  Hats off for a job well done.
My daughters, Patty and Dona, along with my niece, Michelle attended my High Tea at the church the day before mothers day.  That was a rousing success, but I see a few flaws I need to iron out before the next one!  Then on Mother's Day they fixed me a wonderful lunch on the grill.  Bret and Amanda and the baby showed up to eat.  Pork steak and sirloin were on the menu along with asparagus fresh from the oven, baked potatoes, garlic toast, angel food cake and on and on!  Thank you children!
So that about winds up my week.  Oh, crap!  There was that trip to the dentist.  Did I ever tell you how much I like having some one's fingers in my mouth?
Last night I was home all alone and the solitude was different.  Makes me wonder if I really want to spend my waning days alone?  The solitude was broken by the sheriff cars in the drive way, but that is another story.
For now, I am pulling on yesterday's jeans and the ragged tennis shoes and I am off to attempt to till the garden so I can replant.  Oh, but first I have to find some breakfast.

Welcome to my world!

A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Now those of you who know me also know that most of the time I am the hard, hearted Hannah, the vamp of Savannah, but those of you who know me well, know that I do have a soft side and have been known to tear up at the slightest thing that most people except as every day happenings.  Like this morning.  I had to take Elvira in to the beauty shop early and so was heading west up Abriendo (if Abriendo does indeed run past the library in an east west manner.) when a young girl passed in front of my car.  She was shabbily dressed and pushing a cheap baby stroller which was a resting place for several bags as well as a child of perhaps 9-10 months of age.  I know the homeless shelter is located on that street or the next one over.
The picture is frozen in my mind.  I know she was headed there.  Many things pointed in that direction.  The stroller was not one of the padded ones like most parents we know have.  She was wearing a coat and the baby was wearing a cap that covered its ears.  What struck me most was the baby.  I am sure it was a boy for some reason.  He sat erect in the stroller and clutched the bar to keep himself upright.  He stared straight ahead as if to memorize everything before him.  His mother walked quickly with her head down.  This was no early morning stroll.  It was a mission.  It was as if the baby also knew that he must hang on and not lose his grip lest he cause a problem that would deter them from the job ahead.  They were alone in time and space for that moment with me watching them like a voyeur from some other place.   And my mind went back in time.
I have never been homeless.  I raised 5 kids and worked 2 or three jobs at a time so I would not be homeless.  There were times I wanted to give up, but I never knew who or what to give up to, so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and marched onward to the drum beat that was in my head.
Would I live my life different if I could live it in reverse?  You bet your sweet ass I would!  I would never have left my first husband and everyone of those 5 kids would have had a college education.  There would not have been a choice given to them, but life can not be lived that way.  My kids have all grown into respectable adults with kids and grand kids of their own.  I have great grands which I guess makes me old.  Ah, but with age comes wisdom.  Or so I hear.
No, with age comes a mind that works overtime.  And speaking of overtime, I wish it just worked like it is supposed to.  I spend a few hours every week with a lady who is older than me and we spend most of our time trying to remember what it was we were talking about.  We have a trove of memories that are in there some where, but not readily recalled.  And then there is that damn overly sensitive side that goes with old age.  I cry when I hear almost any song, but the one that leaves me a sobbing heap is "Seven Spanish Angels" with Willie Nelson and Ray Charles. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0OhbJPrzWc   Course Happy Birthday to you does the same thing.  Abused animal pictures send me into a 3 day depression.  Hell, any animal picture sends me into a whole new realm.
It has been a couple months since I started to write this article and the picture of the mother and son is as fresh in my mind as it was that morning.  So here is the deal, can someone out there tell me why I can remember my social security number, my first phone number, the address of the house I lived in 65 years ago, but I have no idea where in the hell the car keys are, or that I have a doctors appointment?  I set here in my house all day and when someone says, "What did you do today?" I draw a complete blank.  I saw a cook wanted sign the other day and actually talked to someone about the idea of me going to work there.  My God!  If I had to get up and actually go somewhere at the same time every day, it would drive me nuts!  But then when someone asked me what I did I could say, "I worked all day," which would have actually only been 3 hours, but it sounds good.  Back to the subject at hand.
I watch for the mother and baby every time I drive through the Junction, but no signs of them any where.  So I am going to play out my own scenario.  I think they went to Posada and there they got a bus ticket back home.  I think they lived in the south and they are back with her mother and the mother loves her new grandson.  The lady pushing the stroller went to school and got a really good job and they all lived happily ever after.
That is how things work in my head.

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. 

Colonoscopy? Thank M#$%*@o!!

Yesterday was the annual March Against Monsanto.  All over the country people who care came together and carried signs protesting what is going on with our food supply.  Our demonstation was not very well attended and at first that made me angry.  Then I rethought it and I have decided that perhaps anger is not the right emotion.  Disappointment?  Maybe, but not really.  After much soul searching I put my finger on it.  It is Fear.  It is fear for not just myself, but the whole country.  Let's review here.

Most of my friends do not recall the "good old days" like I do.  I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and restroom facilities consisted of an "outhouse" and Saturday night was bath night in the kitchen in a galvanized tub that Momma filled with water heated on a wood stove, which was also used for cooking.  Meat was a rarity on our table, but when it showed up it had usually been walking or hopping around in the back yard earlier in the day.  And we picked greens out of the yard.  We ate Lambs Quarter.  Ever hear of that?  A weed.  Our animals were fed grain that had been fed raised in some farmers field and harvested by that same farmer.  It was delivered to our place by wagon.

There was not much sickness in our small town.  There was one lady who kept having tests and more tests and the tests found nothing.  She had a hysterectomy, an appendectomy, tonsillectomy  and finally just died.  There was also a young man who set in a wheel chair in front of his house and smiled and waved every morning before school and every afternoon after school.  I forget what he had, but we knew he was not well.  He died when he was 14 or so.  But for the most part babies were born, grew up, and moved away.  The old people stayed behind and eventually died and that was that.  The flu went around and we survived. 

Then came polio.  Then a vaccine to control that.  A vaccine for small pox.  Want to know a secret?  I was very puny when I was pre-teen, so I never had those vaccinations.  No polio, no whooping cough, no small pox, no tetenaus, no nothing.  Still have not had them, do not want them and have survived just fine without them.

Then I noticed people coming down with one thing or another.  I was 15 years old before I had the sign of a boob or hair under my arms.  But I noticed my kids were alost fully developed by the time they were 12 and now it seems to be 8 or 9.  What is going on?  My first thought was growth hormones in the meat we eat and the milk we drink.  Everyone thought I was nuts.  Oh, well.  You explain it.

Then I found out little bits of info here and there that disturbed me.  Our fruits and vegetables are radiated so they stay fresher for us and can last longer on the grocery store shelf!  Every thing that comes off the shelf also has a preservative in it.  Buy a loaf of bread.  Bake a loaf of bread.  Put the 2 items on your kitchen counter and walk away.  Two weeks later the store loaf will still be there, nice and fresh.  The one you baked will be consumed by mold and unrecognizeable as anything edilbe.  Scary, huh?

No!  What is scary is what the government that is supposed to protect us is doing to us in the name of progress.  A company named M#$%*@o, the one that invented agent Orange for use as a defoliant in Vietnam came up with a way to "improve" our food supply.  Just alter a few genes in the DNA of and they will be grow very big, very fast.  Plants will be able to kill insects from within.  One bite and the worm in your corn hemmorages and dies.  I have been known to eat 3 ears of corn.  What do you think that does to you?

Do me a favor.  You apparently have a computer and Google is all over the Internet.  Google GMO.  Google World's Highest Cancer Rate.  And if you only do one, cut and paste this one.  Which countries DO NOT allow Genetically Modified  Organics.

The point I am trying to get across to you, my friends, is this:  Educate yourselves.  It is your body.  You decide what goes in it.  Big business has bought and paid for our government.  If you think about it, you know I am right.  Congress keeps passing laws to protect those who pollute our food supply.  Think about our last election.  We had a measure on the ballot to make companies label our foods.  What happened?  Big money came in and ran a campaign aimed at your pocket book.  

"If we have to label our products you will have to pay more at the store."  That is a crock!  Food has to be labeled any way, we just want it HONEST!

"Oh, us small farmers will be put out of business."  Of course you will when we find out what you are doing to us!

And last but not least, why do out of state businesses care what goes on in our state?  Is it personal?  Hell no!  Oh, wait.  It is personal.  Personal to thier bank accounts.  Please, if you do nothing else all day, spend just a little time researching your food supply and finding out why the medical problems in our country are spiraling out of control.  

And on a brighter note, our crowd was younger this year.  It is too late for us old people to save our colon, but if we can save the children, there is still hope.  This little fellow made this sign while we were standing on the corner waving at people going by and honking.  OMG! GMO!

She belongs to the ages now.

 

Go rest high on that mountain,

Girl your work on earth is done!

Go to heaven a shoutin'

Look for the Father and the Son..........

 

Mary Bell Bartholomew Shea

June 16, 1945

November 13, 2013



Once more life has gotten in the way.

Bet you been missing me.  I sure been missing life!  I went and got my drivers license renewed and guess what!  I do not have to wear glasses when I drive anymore.  Had that vision restriction on there since I was 22 , quit smoking 3 years ago, and now my eyes are back to normal.  I still need reading glasses, but hell I am 71 years old!  What did you think?  They told me what the cigarettes would do to my lungs, but never mentioned my eyesight.  Little added benefit there.
Had lunch with Libby in the Springs last Tuesday.  We went to the Fine Art Center at the College.  That was really great.  Don't ask me where the rest of the week went.  Some where I am sure.  Oh, I had a delivery to the garage for the yard sale.  And it was cold so extra work trying to break the ice.  And that little side trip to look at flooring took another day.  But now that was worth it.  I think I am going to go with Pergo in the Montgomery Apple.  Course this also entails painting the first level.  So now I am looking for a painter who will do this for nothing and do a good job.  We will see how that works out for me.
And then there was that nasty business in Connecticut yesterday.  I rather long for the old days when we heard the news through the grapevine and it was a month old.  Man's inhumanity to man never ceases to amaze me.  But little children?  Do you remember when that one guy killed all those Amish girls?  I thought that was about as low as one could go, but seems like every one that happens is lower and more base than the last one.  Like these guys just have to out do the one before.   It is sad that life has come to this, and I have no advice on how to stop it.  Sure we can regulate firearms, but that only affects the people who obey the law in the first place.  I have no answers.
So I will close up my geese and just do the best I can to try and control my little corner of the world and make it a better place for someone.  Going to work on my next novel a little tonight.  Always nice to escape from reality into a dream world.
Going to try to get back to Nickerson soon.  Kind of miss the good old days.

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Tide pods, or what the hell do I do now?

I just saw something horrifying on the news!  You know the pretty little canisters that hold the Tide Soap Pods that I just toss in the washer and forget?  Well, I had one near catastrophe with them so far.  I tossed it into the washer part, it hit the spindle in the middle of the tub and ricocheted between the tub and the liner.  To the best of my knowledge it is probably disintegrated, or a least I hope so.  But worse then that, they are now going to make the canisters child proof!  Remember what I told you yesterday about that?  I thought I was safe in the laundry.  What kid actually wants to eat soap?  Apparently there are a lot of them out there!

Oh, when mine were young they ate soap a time or two before they learned acceptable language and the words I use are two entirely different things!  Now they did snack on the ex-lax once.  That was Debbie and Dorothy Renee.  I do not think either of them eats chocolate to this day.  As I recall, if there was something we did not want them to ingest we put it up very high and if we caught them near anything we had told them "no" to, there was a little thing called  "swat your hiney" that we played.  This was our idea of positive reinforcement.  We also knew how inquisitive the little bugger were so we used a tactic called "watching the kids."  No doubt we were infringing on thier privacy, but trust me here; a trip to the emergency room infringes on a lot of my rights.  So we did it.

There were other cruelties we did to them.  I liked to put them in "time out."  Time out usually meant that they would fall asleep and I could get a break.  Course since I ended up a single mother and child support enforcement at that time was a big joke, the kids were usually under the care of a "babysitter."  This was a person who was paid to come into my home and do the "watch the kids thing" while I worked.  I had a very lovely lady name Mrs. McIver who came daily and the kids loved her.  She read to them and took them for walks and all the things I never had time to do.  There was another lady who came when Mrs. McIver could not.  Her name was Ida Mae.  She was a very quiet lady and did her job of "watching" them.  This coupled with the fact that she had about 14 whiskers on her chin that were 5-9 inches long made them fear her.  She always brought them candy, but they never accepted it.  Could have been the ex-lax factor there.

Getting to the point here.  As an old lady with stiff fingers I am living in terror of what they are going to devise to keep me out of my Tide Pod container.  If they just secure the lid I think I can get the butcher knife and cut the top off and throw it away.  But if they make the container itself  heavier, I have to be careful.  I have scars from trying to chop away the heavy plastic and since my skin is getting thinner the kids are starting to hide my knives.  I think this is why old people end up in the nursing homes!  We are confronted on a daily basis with challenges on these damn child proof things.  So we don't use soap in the laundry, we don't take our pills, and even the bottle of milk sets on the shelf because we can not grab that tiny ring (assuming we know it is there and we can see it).

It is just easier to go to the nursing home and let them do it for us.  Then we get in there and find out they got the laundry mixed up and I now wear underwear that need to be held up with a safety pin and a bra that perches on the tips of my nipples.

I am telling you, this old age shit is for the birds!

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When you are over the hill, you pick up speed!

Well, this is one of my more recent snap shots.  I mean this is a more recent snap shot that some one else took of me.  I even look blurry.  Age is not wearing well on me.  And it is happening so fast that I am about ready to jump out of the way of this speeding train.  By the way, my shirt says "Jesus is coming!!!  Quick   Look busy!"  Well actually my shirt just hangs there and does not say anything.  I embroidered that on there as a message to those who have the idle hands in the day to day life we are forced to live.

At one point in time I was into decorating the "Necessary Room"  with wise sayings.  The first to hit the wall was one that had a sheep and said, "Ewe's not fat!  Ewe's Fluffy!"  That was followed closely by "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most!"  I soon tired of that one and replaced it with "Either lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way!"  These little jewels were all made in counted cross stitch that I toiled long and hard over.

Well, now it is many years later and the old eyesight is matching the picture there and the counted cross stitch is a thing of the past.  I used to crochet with the smallest hook and use thread that was like a spider web and make beautiful doilies to put all over the house.  The thread I use is now rug yarn and the doilies have been replaced by a store bought kitchen towel draped through one of the handles of the stove.  I always tilled my own garden, but now I am thinking of having some one come over and do that for me.  Actually I am looking to sell the tiller and do the container gardening thing where I do not actually have to bend over.

When we moved here in 1983 it took me about 35 minutes to mow and trim the yard.  Thank God we had a hot, dry summer last year and the grass refused to grow!  The chore is now up to over an hour and that is not counting the 3 breaks I need to take to rehydrate and dry the sweat that now runs off my head in rivulets!  I thought about hiring this out to my grandson, but when I told him I would pay $20 for the work and he looked at me with disdain, I just wanted to rip his head off his body!  Proving that not only does either one of us know the value of a dollar, but also that my sense of humor is definitely down the crapper.

For the first 55 years of my life I did not need an air conditioner in the summer and a wood stove was fine in the winter.  Shoveling snow was just something I did when it fell on my side walk.  At some point in time I must have blown my thermostat, because now an air conditioner is a must and I ain't chopping that damn wood, no way.  Right before Christmas we had to really big snows and I managed to make it in or out, but this past week when I looked out in the morning and saw that crap I picked up the phone and called the step daughter.  "Was Michael on his way over or shall I go ahead and shovel this stuff myself?'  Dead silence.  We both knew the answer to that one!  And my thoughts on this were almost profound!

Why is youth always wasted on the young?  When we were kids growing up at home and it snowed, we never shoveled.  No one shoveled.  The tallest one went out first and "broke a path"  to wherever we needed to go.  Usually the first path was to the out house.  And luckily that path led past the wood pile so eliminated the need for the second path!  (My momma didn't raise no fools!)  Hopefully someone had chopped and stacked some wood on the back porch before the "storm hit" so there would be dry wood for the necessary parts of life like cooking.  We did have a propane cook stove, but we only used that on Sunday and not always then. 

Winters were hard back then.  The stove would inevitably burn out in the night so we had to rely on the pile of quilts on our beds for survival.  That and shared body heat.  Us kids slept in a pile on two beds.  Now each little angel needs their own room.  And a furnace to keep them the same temperature all night and day.  Course we did not know any better.  That was how the world turned back then.  So let me get to the point and I am sure there must be one.

I do not remember ever doing any manual labor growing up at home.  We must have because I am pretty sure there were dishes to be washed, meals to be cooked, floors to be swept and mopped, laundry to be done, chickens to be fed.  It is just that I do not remember ever doing any of that stuff back when I was young and strong and could have done it very easily.  Back when I could have made a difference in my mother's life I do not remember doing anything.  Youth is wasted on the young, like I just said.

I am drifting from my original goal because thinking back to my younger days always makes me nostalgic, so I am going to wind this up, but I will be back very soon and I am going into the years in Nickerson, Kansas in much greater detail.  For now I just want to tell you to seize the day, which in French is "Carpe diem!"  or something like that.  I now refer back to my final piece of needlework.

When you are over the hill, you pick up speed.

(And the nearer you get to the bottom, it becomes a very slippery slope!)

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Memorial Day was just that!

Memorial Day was the same as last year.  Cook out at Penny and Cathy's.  But the memorial part was coming home and a guy named Daniel and his wife came to get the pickup that I sold on eBay.  Cash in hand they arrived right on time.  And they were a delight to meet!

I had told him it needed a new battery and to deduct that from the price so he came with not only a new battery, but tools to install it!  Guy thought of everything.  The truck had not been started in a couple months so I was hopeful it would not disappoint me and it didn't!  New battery, turn the key and life under the hood!  We discussed why I had bought it in the first place and I explained that it was for my 16 year old son and the driving force behind a 1969 Chevy pickup was insurance costs.  See, there is no way to hurt one of them, but they can do a lot of damage.  So that was a lost cause.

We discussed how safe his son would be surrounded with all that steel.  I remarked that the kid would never know the agony of his first dent or scratch.  Mother concurred!

I watched it drive down the driveway and was a little remorseful that I had not gotten myself busy and restored it myself, but if I have one more thing to do, my head is going to explode!  Today I am taking a little break from eBay and I know that tomorrow I will regret it, but such is life.  I am going to get the thing that makes a photograph into a digital image and do a little introduction to my middle daughter, like I said I would do how long ago? 

OK, that is my short little report for the day and I am now off to do stuff that needs done.  Wish me well, but that recliner is looking mighty tempting about now!

No Disneyland for my kids and they survived!

I was downstairs just now pinning a quilt in the quilter and had one of my epiphany's.  I just love that word!  So, anyway, I had the television on and heard the announcer say something about a trip to Disneyland for some little kids who were very ill.  It was then I thought how nice that was that the little kiddies can go there and have fun.  Flash back to my children.  I raised five of those suckers and never even thought about Disneyland.  Assuming it had been invented at the time.

But we have to go back further.  All my children were fathered by my first husband, the drop dead gorgeous German guy who thought Hitler was the smartest man that ever lived.  I have always had an infinity for the German guys, but Hitler was so wrong!   My roots go back to the Black Forest and the Erms, so I think that is where that comes from.  Well anyway, after 11 years we decided to split everything in half and call it a bad experience.  So I walked out with a 1957 Chevy and 5 kids.  He got the tree business and his freedom.  Seemed fair to me.  When it came time for child support, he explained to me that he did not want the divorce, so he should not have to pay alimony or child support.  That made sense to me, so that is how it stood.  Back in those days you could do that.

Now understand this, when I struck out on my own with 5 kids to take care of, I did not have a high school diploma and knew how to do jack as far as supporting myself went.  Ever hear the saying "Ignorance is bliss?"  Very true in my case.  I got a job waiting tables.  I then went to work at the Red Carpet Restaurant as a short order cook, moved up to head cook and then manager.  Had a disagreement with the boss so went across town and bought my own place. The rest is history.  Got married, got divorced, got married, moved to Colorado, got divorced, got married, got divorced, got married, got widowed and here I am.  But I digress. 

I look back on raising the kids there in Hutchinson, Kansas and wonder just what kind of mother I really was.   I know I never took them to Disneyland, but I did take them fishing!  Every Sunday in the summer we would go by a place on Second Street and pick up 6 hamburgers and french fries for $1.00.  Name of the place was  B & D Carryout.  We then headed out to the Arkansas River, or behind the Bible Camp on Cow Creek. Once we went to Dodge's Sand Pit and I caught a very big Channel Cat.  Put it in the freezer and the kids fed it to the cats.  So, here is the question I have for you.  Today all my kids love to fish.  I think even Sam thinks about it sometimes.  Now had I taken them to Disneyland would that have made an impression on them  in a very lasting way?

I look back on those years and know that had I been depositing the child support check instead of the check from my second and third jobs I might have been able to give the kids more, but would that have made me a better mother?  Their dad took them on vacations.  He came and spent time with them.  They went to his home in Garden City and stayed sometimes and as they grew older spent more time with him.  We never pushed and pulled the kids.  Just told them when they got older they would understand and I think they pretty much do now.  They are all successful in one way or another. 

Sam put himself through college and is financially successful.  Dona put herself through Cosmetology School and has her own shop in Lakin.  Patty is retired from the Library.  Debbie is a survivalist in eastern Kansas and could build you a house from tin cans!  Sue is here in town and is self sufficient.  There are all honest, tax paying,  hard working, caring, self sufficient human beings.  They all love me as their mother and while Dad has been gone for many years, I still see  shades of him in all of them.

So, did they miss out by not going to Disneyland?  Or, and I just thought of this, maybe they went!  Maybe their dad took them.  I guess I never really asked them!  The point I am getting to, and I always have one you know, is this, I did the best I could with the tools and the knowledge I had at that time.  It is always easy to look back and see how it should have been done.  I sometimes wonder if I knew way back then, what I know now, just how my life would have played out on the big screen?  I should not have ever married the first one, but then I would have no kids.  Don't want that.    Everything and everyone that has touched my life, however briefly,  has made me exactly who I am today.  So if you love me today, you have to love the past that brought me to this point.

Don't ask me for all my little dark secrets, cause I have forgotten most of them.  Can't get the toothpaste back in the tube and not sure I want to try.  Just know that I will love each and everyone of you just exactly as you are with all your idiosyncrasies and I ask that you make me the same deal.  When you look at Lou, what you see is what you get!  I may come with baggage, but I carry it well!