Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing.

Words from my mother.  And taken as a sentence sound kind of cryptic, but explained by my mother, they made perfect sense.  Most of us are giving people and will share what we have with those who have less, or those who are in need.  At least I like to think that is the case.

Most of you also know that I would give you the shirt right off my back if I thought you needed it and I like to think you would return the favor and I am sure you would!  So what is this all about anyway?  What does it have to do with not letting one hand know what the other hand is doing?  I will tell you.  It has come to my attention that some people are watching their hands a little to closely and maybe not letting go of what they give to another.  I do not want to become one of those people.  As an example, if I meet a man on the street and he is cold, I will give him my coat.  At that point I will walk away.  I could hide around the corner to see if he maybe sells it and then goes and buys a beer, but I would never do that.  I have given it to him and it is his to do with as he sees fit.  Ideally, he will use it to keep warm which was my original intent.

Maybe he has a friend who needs the coat more than he does.  Maybe he will wad it up and set on it so he does not get in the mud.  Who knows the fate of the coat at this point.  What I am trying to say is that as Christians we are often moved to do things and give things.  When this happens, we must let them go, and walk away.  I recently learned of an instance where someone had given something and it was sold.  The giver was hurt that this had happened.  Oft times when gifts are given to charities they are then sold and the cash used for other things, like gas bills, groceries, or medicine.  Maybe school supplies for migrant children.  Maybe that shawl you knitted and gave to the nursing home and pictured a little old lady keeping warm on a cold night ended up in a silent auction.  Or maybe the director took it across town to someone who was freezing because the heat was turned off in their apartment.  Or maybe someone who did not need it at all, sold it and did go buy beer with it! 

I guess what I am trying to say is this:  If you give it away, then give it away.  Let it go.  We have to do our part in trying to make the world a better place, but we can not do it all.  If you give something to someone, it is not yours to control.  Let it go.  And if you think that person abused your gift, then next time give to someone  that you think will do better with your offerings.  You could go to the person who offended you and talk to them.  "I gave you such and such and I think it went to some place I did not intend it to go."  Let them tell you what happened, but you should know that discussing it with anyone who will listen is only casting doubt on yourself.  And that is where the not letting one hand know what the other is doing comes into play. 

Take your gift.  Lay it on the alter, or place it in someone else's hand and walk away.  It is not yours anymore.  Your heart is not burdened with worldly goods.  Forget about it and move on to the next person who is in need and you will be wiser for it.

Just some thoughts this morning.

Until death us do part.

That used to be in the wedding vows.  Let me see if I can actually remember those vows.  "I, Louella Beth (insert last name here) do take thee, so and so, to be my wedded husband, to love, honor, cherish  and OBEY, in sickness and in health , forsaking all others and cleaving only unto thee till death us do part."  Or something like that.  Now you should know that every time I took those vows, I really meant them.  At least at the time.  As I recall, the vows kind of changed over the years and when I married Kenny, the ceremony consisted of a retired minister in an assisted living, his wife in the next room asleep and Kenny and myself.  Oh, yeah and the handing of a $20 bill which he quickly pocketed.

He signed the license and said, "Well, for all intents and purposes you are married unless you want me to say something more?"

"Well, yeah.  but leave out that obey part and just say about him loving and cherishing me.  Oh, and bringing home the paycheck.  Leave out the part about me having to clean house and all that,  I'll cook but that is about it."  So he laughed and said that and then had  us sign .

The whole time spent with him was about six minutes, after which we stopped at the donut shop and had a donut for our wedding supper.  It was 15 degrees below zero when we passed the bank in Canon City that day.  But you know what?  That marriage worked!

It is now 35 years later and here I set.  Kenny has been gone 17 years. and it is like he is still here.  To put this in perspective, he occupied almost half of my life.  No other man can make that claim.   We thought alike.  We liked the same foods.  We both liked the same music.  We went fishing and I baited my own hook.  We had one serious disagreement (which was of course his fault.).  I did not have to wear makeup and whatever I made for supper was fine and if not, we went out to eat.  Time flies!

So anyway, I woke up this morning thinking on my life.  I think I am turning into a hermit.  I get up and kill time until bedtime.  Then I sleep until it is time to get up and do the whole thing again.  Ever once in a while I think I should start dating, but then I have a second thought that beats hell out of that first thought.  I dated one guy for a while, but sadly he succumbed to cancer.  Then there was a guy that was way younger than me, but he loved himself enough for both of us, so that one fizzled out.

Well, to get to the point of this missive, there is no point.  I am just kind of putting things in perspective in my life and I do that by poking the keys and reading what I wrote.  Life is good, and most importantly, the world is still turning.  I should, no doubt, go on a cruise or something, but I do not want to leave home.  I am going to crawl on an airplane on April 28th and fly to Dallas.  Getting on an airplane is something I swore I would never do, but here I am with my ticket in hand and the day approaching.  Sometimes we just have to do stuff because.  I guess that is what is known as making a bucket list.  So far, it is the only thing on my bucket list.  Perhaps if I make it to Dallas and back, I shall make a bucket list.  We will see.

What goes around, comes around! Or so I hear.

My fifth  husband did not last long, therefore he did not make much of an impression on my life.  I had just divorced number 3 and 4 (married him, divorced him, married him again and divorced him again so I have to count him as 2) and was really moving forward with my life.  I was working for the ex-husband  and going to business college at night and holding down a part time job to pay for that.  And just in case you wonder, I was on the Deans List and graduated head of my class.  This just proves you do not really need to sleep to function.

So any way, I was working night shift waiting tables in Bessemer ( area of town around the steel mill).  There I met HoratioHornblower.  I will call him HoratioHornblower because I want to protect his anonymity (that and the fact that it should have been  his name.)  He came in every night after work for coffee and since it was slow then we could visit.  He was very quiet and seemed to be settled in his life.  Well, you know that old saying, "Still waters run deep."  I was soon to find out just how deep that water was.

To make a long story short, I had a disagreement with the owner of the café and walked out.  There went that paycheck, along with my dreams of becoming a CPA.  But Horatio was right there.  Marriage, that was the answer.  He took me to Clarks Western Wear  and bought me a pair of white flare legged pants which were popular at that time, a blue and white checked western shirt, white boots and and a cute little white straw hat with a blue ribbon to match.  I was a cowboy now!  I had never had a man buy me clothes before so I really felt special.  Little did I realize that was the last thing he would buy me.

We got married in the park and went home to Scranton.  I soon found that he had several grown kids.  Never did figure out for sure how many, but there were lots.  And they all depended on Daddy for the little things in life that made their life complete, like money for movies, money for gas, money for new clothes and on and on.  After just a few weeks of wedded bliss it dawned on me that there was no money forthcoming from him for rent, groceries or anything else.  He used his money to "pay bills."  Ok.  So we filed income tax together and I had always claimed married 1 so I could get money back.   He had nothing held out for income tax since he claimed all the kids, 7 dogs and an ex wife. 
Then I set back to wait for that tax check to come.  And I waited, and waited and waited.

After about 7 weeks I decided to dust the dresser in the bedroom and when I took the scarf off I found a letter from the IRS informing Mr. and Mrs. Whothehellwasthatguy that the income tax totaling $3,000.25 was being applied to the back child support payments that were garnished by law.  WTF.  Needless to say when I confronted him with the letter he had no knowledge of any of this.  WTF!  Then he accused me of falsifying that letter.  WTF!!!!!.

Needless to say I was done with that marriage after only 4 months.  I did go on to get my degree with the help of my dear mother.  Sadly back in those days, waiting tables and cooking paid more then Accounting so it was all a waste of time.  If life could be lived in reverse we would all be better off, wouldn't we?

So why did I wake up with this on my mind this morning?  Who knows.  It could be that I have learned life lessons, but I am still not smart enough to apply them.  Yesterday the boy came and I had him get the ladder out of the garage and cut a limb off the Apricot tree.  See, I learned that if the tree limb rubs on the roof it damages the shingles and I have to pay to replace them.  Life lesson learned.  Sadly, when he went home to Florence he left the ladder leaning against the house.  After cussing and fuming, I got it down and drug it back to the garage.  I should have checked before he left.  Now sadly, this is a life lesson that I will never get through my pea brain.  Always check when someone does a good deed, that there is not a knife sticking out of my back.  Love you Bret.

On a bright note, Anthony called and told me he has my fruit juice.  He goes to Sam's and he knows I like that particular brand so he always buys me a big bottle.  I watch his mom while he goes to do errands.  Fair trade.  There are people who match me measure for measure and that is good.  Maybe I will start concentrating on those people.

My momma always had a saying, "You scratch my back and I will scratch yours."  I guess that pretty well covers the life lessons and I may actually start practicing that.  There is not much sense doing for someone who does not do for me.  In my charity work there are many people that are truly thankful for my little I do and that makes me feel good.  Guess that is why I do it.  But in my personal life, some people tend to take me for granted.  I just realized something!  It is all in the spelling of the word.

Do I want to be taken for granted or do I want to be taken for GRANITE! 

Have a good day and remember...What goes around, comes around.

And the legal drinking age was?

By the time I was in high school I was old enough to drink liquor.  Well, maybe not according to the State of Kansas, or my mother, but I had a friend who had a father who made and bottled home brew.  He also left every weekend and left the stock unlocked.  I soon became known in Nickerson High School as "Home Brew girl."  That is a title I am not quite as proud of today as I was back then.  But the truth of the matter is it set the stage for later days when we moved to Hutchinson.

About the time we moved I was a senior in high school and tired of going there every day especially in a big city like Hutch where I knew no one.  So I got me a job in a burger place out on 4th and worked 2 weeks.  That was pretty boring.  It was one of those places where a speaker was on the tables and the customer ordered and I carried the food out .  Whoopee shit!  Big future there. 

I found the beer joints up on Main about the same time.  The interesting part here was when they checked ID it was in the form of a question.  "Are you old enough to drink?"
"Well, I been doing it for quite a while now so I guess I am."  Duh!

Now the best way to get free beer is to work in the place that sells it.  Within a one block area on Main Street were 3 bars that were known as the "3 Queens".  The first was the Manhattan Club, then the Brown Derby, and lastly was the Brass Rail.  I had heard of these places from way back when we lived in Nickerson and dad used to go drinking in Hutch.  Years later I read about them in the old family history when one of my great grandfathers had kept a journal.  One entry concerned his sons who worked for other farmers for cash money.  They had gotten paid and had " gone into Hutch and blowed up $20."  He was very upset about that little trip and mentioned it several times.  $20.00 was a lot of money back then and "blowing it up"  was a cardinal sin.

Also when I was young my fathers son (my half brother, Gene) had came home from the Army and was regaling us with tales of the 3 Queens and a lady of the night named "Sea Biscuit" who could out drink any man.  Her favorite drink was White Horse Scotch and milk.  I was "lucky" enough to meet her on one of my forays into the night life of the 3 Queens.  Sadly, she was not at all what I had pictured.  She was old, skinny and could cuss like a sailor.  She still drank White Horse Scotch and milk.  She had given up the "lady of the night" business and was married to a very tall man who was very quiet.  I think of them  when I hear the song, Country Bumpkin (click to listen.)  Her real name was Delores.  No last name, just Delores.  She did not remember my brother Gene.  She advised me to make something out of my life and not spend my time down on South Main.  My brother, Jake, concured with her and so my life in the bright lights of the 3 Queens was very short lived.

Then I found a place way out on 4th Street called the Tiny Tear.  The Tiny Tear was a cafe that was friendly to teenagers.  Sometimes I cooked there which also entailed waitressing.  I do not remember how I got from point A to point B since I did not have a car, but I managed.  The Tiny Tear was more my speed.   The kids that hung out at the Tiny Tear were very possessive of the place and we did not like strangers coming on our "turf."  During one of our "rumbles"  I met a guy who would be the love of my life.  His name was Jimmie and he called me "bright eyes."  Had the fates smiled on us we would no doubt still be together and I would still be in Hutchinson, but sadly, they did not.  He had just broken up with his girlfriend and 2 months into our torrid love affair she announced that he would be a father.  Back in those days that was an automatic marriage guarantee.  Thus ended our future.  I do not know what ever became of him, but I do know they had a couple more kids and I think he still lives back there, but I am not sure.  I still think of him fondly, but I also miss my little black calf named Dennis that died when he was 3 days old.  Water under the bridge.

I have good memories of my younger days.  While I may not be real proud of some of my shenanigans they did lead me to who and where I am today.  I do not have a prison record, for which I am thankful, but I do have a lot of life lessons that I could share with the kids now, but they would not believe me, so I won't.  My memories are just that, my memories.  And while I am sure Jimmie will never read this, if he does, I hope he remembers me just a little.

And our saviour was born in a cattle stall.....

For my whole life I have known the story of the birth of our saviour.  When I was very young it was the one Sunday out of the year that many people went to church.  The only Sunday we were allowed to miss was when we were loaded kit and kaboodle into the back seat of what ever old car we had that was running and off we went to grandma's house.  It was an all day trip because we had to stop several times and put water in the radiator and one of us always had to hop out and go pee in the ditch.  It was an all day ordeal making that 22 mile trip over to Plevna and back, but it was the one thing momma insisted on doing at least once a month.

Dad never went to church.  He did not buy into that malarkey and until the day he died he never ceased to remind us that we were damn fools.  His funeral when I was 25 years old was held in the Lamb Funeral Home and I am not sure who officiated, but I am sure he was up there some where looking down and pitying us poor fools who were trying to get him into a place he never believed in.  I was just devastated because we were burying my father and I never knew him.  Eight months later we buried my brother.  I digress.

Everyone who knows my story knows that I married at 19 and immediately had 4 kids, took a short break and had the last one.  My husband was an athiest and so church was not important.  It was not that I forgot any of my upbringing, but it was just easier to not push the buttons that set him off.  After our divorce when I became truly independent, I made sure the kids got to Sunday school and back every Sunday.  Well, most of them any way.  Now that did not mean that I went, but they did.

And so I grew into adulthood cherishing my beliefs, but not doing much about them.  And much like the parables in the Bible, I had my awakening after I married Kenny.  Things happen in our lives that tend to bring us full circle and we end up on our knees.  So it was with me.  We all have our moments and as I look back, I wonder what in the world I was thinking.  At age 16 I wanted to be a missionary and was on the right track.  10 years later I was a single mom and working 2 or 3 jobs to feed my brood.  But I never lost hope.  Never once did I think there was not a God that loved me.  Several times I wondered why he did, but there he was.

Someone asked me the other day if I really bought that story of Jesus Christ being born to a virgin.  That just doesn't seem possible.  My answer at the time and will always be, " I beleive that story with my whole heart, soul and being.  I always have and I always will."  Then my friend asked why Jesus suffered and died on the cross.  He could have run away and hid.  He did not have to do that.  To that I say, "He died for my sins and your sins.  He died so we could have life ever lasting."

And that, my friends, is what I beleive.  It is why I get up for in the morning and it is my last thought at night when I go to sleep.  I am not scholarly in my Bible like some people, but Lou Mercer is a true beleiver  and I will be when I take my last breathe.

I beleive in Christmas miracles and I beleive in August 4 miracles.  I beleive there are angels among us and they guide our feet so we do not dash them on a stone.  I beleive there is good in everyone and if I die tomorrow I will meet Jesus with a smile on my face.

I would love to see you at my church because we have a very nice pastor named Karen Howe, but if I don't see you, please know I love you and accept you as you are.

And with that, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year.  May peace and prosperity be yours for the whole year and the rest of your life.

Once upon a time....

 Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman, who married a very handsome man.  They planned on living happily ever after.  The beautiful woman had already been married once and brought a daughter to the union.  Her name was Josephine Ann Walden.

                                             

After a time they had a son.  That would be Delbert Leroy (Jake ) Bartholomew.  Jake would grow up to be my best friend.

In 1941 a beautiful daughter was born.  Her name was Louella Beth Bartholomew.  She was named after the mother of the handsome man and the sister in law of the beautiful woman.  She would grow up to be ME!!!

Years would pass and more children were born, all girls.  The man died.  The son died.  And this is who was left.

Top row from left.  Louella, Mother Christine, Josephine

Bottom row: Mary, Donna, Dorothy.

And since this picture was taken, Mother (Christine Josephine Haas) has passed.  Also Josephine Ann Flora, and Mary Belle Shea.  Dorothy Mae Anderson, is transitioning as I write.  That will just leave Donna Faye Bartholomew , and me Louella Beth Mercer.  And that is why I am putting my thoughts together today. 

To anyone I wronged, I apologize.  To the people I never got around to helping, I am sorry;  for those that I did help, pay it forward.

I want to tell all my friends that I love them, in case I do not remember to say it next time. To those who loved me and forgot to tell me or meant to come for a visit, but didn't get around to it, I realize life got in the way as it did from my side of town. 

I want to tell my family, that while I may be far away, you are never far from my mind and I love you all from the bosom of my mother to the three times removed nieces and cousins. 

I am sorry I never knew my fathers family. 

As for my immortal soul, I am good to go and rather looking forward to the trip!  This world was not  my home, I was only passing through, to coin an old country western hymn.  I hope you are all better for having known me, and I know I learned from you.  I am pretty sure God is going to let me peek in on you from time to time and I hope you are as happy about this as I will be.  And when your time comes I will meet you at the gate and show you around!  Until then.......

Once upon a time there was a little girl.

The ghosts of the past are alive and well!

I woke up at 4:15 this morning and was very surprised that I had a guy on my mind from my distant past.  Now I mean my way back there distant past.  My first boyfriend.  I was 17 years old and I thought the sun rose and set in that boy.  He took me to Joyland in Wichita one sunny afternoon.  We rode all the rides and when we got on the Roundup, my stomach had it's limit.  His name was Corky and he was so sweet and concerned about my welfare.  Throwing up on the Roundup was the high point of the day and we left soon after that.  We continued to for a while and then sort of drifted apart.  It was never a big romance, just a very comfortable relationship with some one with whom I could share my  hopes and dreams.

Years passed and I married and had a family.  I ended up in Garden City, Kansas.  When that marriage went south, I returned to Hutchinson.  There I met the second man in my life who would offer me comfort in a storm and ask nothing in return.  His name was Gib.  We never really dated so much as sort of hung out together.  He was a friend of my mom's.  He was also a cook and I was a waitress until I became a cook also.  He helped shop for Christmas Santa Claus gifts and helped put the things together on Christmas Eve.  He was engaged to a girl named Cheri, but though they lived together, they never married.  I never understood their relationship.  He and I were friends, but he and Cheri had something, and yet nothing.

The one thing both these guys and I had in common was that the relationships were purely platonic.  I never expected more and they never asked for more.  I can search the world over and never find 2 men that made such an impact on my life!  Ah, but hindsight is always clearer then foresight, isn't it?

Years passed and the AIDS epidemic reared it's ugly head.  Gib moved to California.  He died there.   I was in Pueblo by then.  Mother called and said Gib wanted to get together over Thanksgiving that year, but she was afraid.  I told her I could  and would love to come and see Gib.  I was not afraid.  I just wanted to see my old friend.  Plans were made, but he did not make it.  I know there was no funeral and he is in an unmarked grave.  I still miss him.  The very first panel on my AIDS Memorial Quilt is for Gilbert Fields.

I learned later that Corky had also passed.  He was also a statistic in the early stages of the epidemic.  Jimmy came later.  And Mark.  And Mike.  And a list that goes on and on and on.  I have always had a rapport with the gay community, even before I knew there was a gay community!  They have been my friends when I had no friends.  They held me up when I could have sunk beneath the waves.

I have no idea why these two guys are on my mind today, but there they are.  I just wanted to share with you, my readers, a small glimpse into my past so you can maybe understand why I am who I am today and why I do the things I do.  I guess I am trying to give back to the community that cared for me when I did not care for myself.

Spring, Sprang, Sprung!

I have a total of 10 Lilac bushes around my house and yard and every one of them looks like this.  They are loaded with blooms and the beauty is surpassed only by the wonderful fragrance of the Lilac.  I do know that the correct conjugation is not spring, sprang, sprung and that by so doing I have changed a noun to a verb, but Spring does that to me.

I understand that we are supposed to have snow today and this will not be the first time my Lilac's have peeked through the cold and frozen white blanket to cheer my day.  April is probably my favorite month simply because of the Lilac's.  Purple is my favorite color and Lilac is my favorite fragrance, so there you go.

I like to think that in another life I would have been a Lilac.  They are strong and can withstand about any condition:  below zero weather to a hot dry summer.  They do like sunshine and will struggle when planted in a shady place and wither and die in the dark.  Much like me.   

I am going to cut a bouquet of these and bring them in the house, but only because I have so many.  I do not like cut flowers because it breaks my heart to watch them die in a vase, but I only get to see these when I go outside and they make me so happy.  I can set on the deck in the evening and lose myself in beautiful dreams with the Lilac fragrance drifts through my reverie.

So, I guess you get the idea that I am maybe a little fond of Lilac's?  I know Spirea will be blooming soon or may have already bloomed, but it has no smell and the flowers are tiny so I over planted on the Lilac bushes.  

The day calls me, so off I go.  You have a good day and remember to stop and smell the flowers along life's pathway!

January is about behind me, thank God.

Well, it has been a very rough start for this year.  We lost Pastor Jeannine Lamb right before Christmas.  Her sudden passing threw me into a new low both at church and home.  I spent a lot of time over the holiday with her life partner, Kathy.  That helped me work through it some what.  Of course now comes the work of finding a new pastor.  Kevin Olsen is doing pulpit supply for us until we can find an interim ministry so that takes a load off our shoulders.  Does not make life easier though as there are meetings and more meetings.

Also passing was Rae Flanagan, whom I had gone to church with for years.  Very nice and very classy lady.    Lee Dorsey was the last of the people I had gone to church with and my heart breaks for his beautiful daughter, Bernadette and her husband, Jesse.   I also lost a client, Irene.  On the upside, I got a new great grandson.

Ended the year having a new furnace installed.  House insurance and car insurance both jumped up 25%.  Never had a wreck in my life, but my insurance keeps going up.  Not the social security check though,  That just keeps getting stretched further to pay utilities and buy groceries.  We all know how long this cheap gas is going to last, don't we?

As I look forward to the new year left ahead of me, I can hear the limb rubbing on the back of the house roof and know that is going to need to come down and that means more money.  Car has 105000 miles on it so needs to have all kinds of little things done to it.  I think about just selling and moving into town and that scares me.  When I do that there is no going back to the big house in the country with 2 dogs, a cat and 9 geese.  It is easy to downsize at my age, but up sizing is out of the question.

So I am going to set here in my big house surrounded by all my stuff I have accumulated and think about what is going to happen this coming year.  I have lots of big plans and lots of things I want to do, but time will tell as to what happens.  Who knows, maybe next year I will be the one not here and someone else will be missing me!  That is the fun part of life; not knowing.

So for now, I am going to keep loving all my friends and acquaintances and if one of them falls by the wayside I will know I did my best and if the "fallee" happens to be me, they can shed a tear and know that we parted on the best of terms.

We are not promised tomorrow.  We have only today.

I think I will have a Vanilla Phosphate!

Does this look familiar?  Maybe not to some of you younger people, but my generation recognizes this immediately as the soda fountain at the corner drug store.  I got this off the Internet, but trust me, they all looked alike.  Best part was you could set there on that stool as long as you liked.  Vanilla Phosphate, Cherry Coke, Plain Coke; it was your choice.  And if you had a friend you could ask for 2 straws and share. We knew how to make good use of a nickle back in those days.

Our drug store set right on the corner and next door was the Berrington's  IGA  Grocery store.  Flemings grocery was on the other corner.  So you walked in the front door of the drug store and right inside the door was the magazine section.  They do not do that anymore because some one will "grab and run", but back then all the thieves were locked up!  Nothing but good people in our town.

Towards the back of the store was the pharmacy.  It had a little window that if you could reach that high, you knocked on and the druggist would ask you what you wanted.  He stayed behind a locked door and mixed your prescriptions when you handed him the slip.  I never really seen the druggist, but I know he was there because Mother told me so.

Scattered throughout the store was things you might need like crutches. gauze, heating pads, hot water bottles, mineral oil, epsom salts and other stuff to which a 10 year old girl pays no attention.  And the lady who held sway, kept order in the store, mixed the drinks at the soda fountain, and generally scared the living pee wadding out of us was a lady named Neva.  Dear Neva had been born with one eye that looked upward and to the right.  We were never sure if she could see out of this eye, but we were sure that we would do nothing wrong in case she could.

It used to be the greatest thing in the world to have the nickle and know we could go to the drug store.  I was not alone in my thirst for knowledge held by the magazines on the rack inside the door.  Back then there were a couple "rags" named Modern Romance and True Story.  Now inside these pages was some hot stuff.  It I was really fast, I could locate one of them and open to a paragraph and read about "married love" before Neva spotted me and asked "Are you gonna buy that?"  To which I always put the book back and headed for the soda fountain.

Back in those days places were clean and friendly.  I might be the only one in there and I could set for hours and dream away while twirling my straw in an empty glass.  If a customer came in, though, I knew they were getting busy and it was time to leave.  I wonder if that drug store is still there?  I may just take a trip back down memory lane some day.  It has only been 60 years, so I think it should still be there.  Probably Neva does not work there any more and I bet the new druggist does not even know what a "mortar and pestle" is. Not sure I have that right my own self!

I think I will stop by the magazine rack and see if they still have those romance magazines.  Pretty sure the price has gone up, but I would like to just peek inside and see what kind of "married" love is going on nowdays.  Until then

Keep your powder dry!

And now I have seen first hand...It was indeed a miracle!

Hopped in the little Ford Focus and headed east into the sun yesterday.  My purpose was to see my grandson, and a few of the great grand kids.  As most of you recall, Joe Seeger-Guebara, my grandson, rolled his car on May 9 of this year.  That was the evening before he was to graduate high school the day before Mother's Day.  He spent May 10-June 2 in a coma in Wichita, Kansas at the Via Christi Hospital and Trauma Unit.  Prayer requests were flying every where and no one gave up.  I confess, I was skeptical.
June 2, he was moved to Linclon, Nebraska, to the Madonna Rehab Center.  He was still in a coma.  After tests the doctor was explaining to Dona Seeger, his mother, that his discharge date would be August 22 and that he would still, no doubt be comatose.  Joe was propped up in a wheel chair at the time that diagnoses was given.  It apparently triggered something in his brain and he began struggling to stand up!   So they helped him stand.  It was clear in that picture that while he was standing between his mom and a therapist that he was still out to lunch!
I am here to tell you that prayer and perseverance will bring results!  3 months of diligence, prayer and sacrifice by his family and a lot of hard work by him brings us to his return home on August 22.  But I had to see for myself and that was the reason for the trip yesterday.  I give you Joe Seeger-Guebara and his grandma.

And true to his dream and the dedication of the fire department, his shirt.

In case you can not read that, it says "Firemen never die.  They just burn forever in the hearts of the people whose lives they saved."  Joey was a volunteer at the fire department and when he came home, they met him with the fire engines on main street.

This is his brother and Aunt.  Oh, and cinnamon rolls grandma made him!

Yep!  Aunts, neice (who is also my great grandaughter), cousin and  mother at his side, where she has been since May 9.  She is returning to her beauty shop in town on Tuesday.  

So the men folk went on the quest of prairie dog distruction, them being all good red necks in that area and the women folk went into town where Dona cut out hair and we finished up at "Flashback" which is in the old Dairy Queen building.  I had a cherry limeade.

And then my little car was pointed West and I hit the road back to Colorful Colorado!  But I did manage a few shots on the side.

But try as I might I can not capture the panorama of the Kansas sky with the low hanging clouds that look like I can reach out and touch them!  I do try.

So, welcome home Joey!  I understand you are going to the community college in Garden.  Never forget the people who spent the summer in prayer and more importantly, do not forget the man who answered those prayers.

If you have the faith of a mustard seed, you can move mountains!

                                                             Love, Grandma

We also serve who only sit and wait. A tribute to my children.

Anyone remember this picture?  I sure do.  That was 40+ years ago when I was a single mother raising 5 kids.  No problem.  A piece of cake.  Go to work, come home, take care of the kids, cook clean, homework, fishing on the weekends and maybe church on Sunday.  I was young and the world was before me.  I never dreamed for one moment that 40 years later I would be second guessing the job I did shaping these little minds and preparing them for the world ahead.  If I had thought of that angle I would have ran down the road screaming.  But I did not.  I simply went about the every day tedium of life and that was that.

I do not have a picture of my ex-husband, the father of this brood, but suffice it to say he was a drop dead gorgeous Adonis, smart, witty, generous to a fault, but alas, we both had our faults and so a divorce was inevitable.  While I was tending to life in Hutchinson, Kansas, he set up his empire in Western Kansas.  We shared the kids as we chose to without benefit of the courts system.  Sometimes they were with me, sometimes with him.   The point being, they reached adulthood and began making their own decisions.  Far be it from me to say I approved of some of those decisions or even that I understood where they were coming from when they announced them to me, but nonetheless, they were in charge of their lives.  The older girls were living with their father when I moved to Colorado, but I do drone on, don't I.  That is all water under the bridge.

 Earl Seeger passed  at 52 years of age.  That was very young.  The girls were all married by that time and had kids of their own.  Sam was off in the world slaying dragons.  And so our lives drifted until very recently.  Last May 10, Dona Maries's  son Joe was scheduled to graduate the next day, Mother's Day.  He went to see a friend, rolled his car and has been in a coma since. 

And now I have occasion to know exactly what my kids have become from their life lessons.  Dona has been at his side since the accident.  She has never wavered as she set by his bedside waiting for him to wake up.  Patty and her girls are with her most of the time.  Debbie and her husband visit regularly.  There are no negative thoughts.  God will take care of us through this, whatever this may be.  Sam, ever my rock, has explained that this will be a very long process and has made a budget and is on top what must happen through the process.  Sue and I set home and wait for updates.  We all know what we are capable of doing and we do it the best we can.

But the most amazing part is the love that binds this family together has never been more clear or stronger.  Life tends to let us drift apart, but upsets pull us back together.  Is that how it should be?  I do not know.  I always dreamed of a touchy feely relationship, but this seems much better.  We are all there for each other and we each know it.  I strongly suspect that it has always been that way.  Mother always said "You can choose your friends, but you are stuck with your family."  I sometimes wonder if she was being sarcastic when she said that!   

So here is Dona Marie with Joey and the therapist.  Joey had been sitting in the chair for several hours and decided he wanted to stand up.  The therapist told him he could not do that, but Joey with the Seeger/Bartholomew blood in his veins was clear about what would happen.  And it did.  Not once, not twice, but several times.  Then they put him into bed and he went fast asleep.  Dona, the middle child, who neither leads nor follows, is a bulwark for her son.  After 3 1/2 weeks in a coma, he is now making rapid strides forward.  I just got off the phone with Patty and Joey is very agitated and wants out of the bed.  The best news is that he is angry.  If he is angry, that is an honest emotion.  That is good news. 

And here is the family you saw at the beginning of this blog. I have added one more child since the first  picture was taken.  Bret is  22 years old and he seems to have the same good heart that the other 5 have.  So, to make a long story short, I am thinking that when I am old and grasping at that slender little silver thread called life, that is a pretty good bunch to have on my side and I am very happy to call them my children.  And I mean each and every one of them in their own unique way. I love each one with my whole heart and I love each one in a special way.  And I think they love me.  Or at least I hope so!

Well now what?

Just got up and started checking eBay for ending listings.  Got those taken care of and got my second cup of coffee.  Just setting here planning my day at 5:30 AM and realized that today is the day the world ends.  Damn!  I wonder what time that is going to happen?  I want to shower, but I am not going to get naked and have the world suddenly end and there I stand in front of God and everybody dripping wet in a birthday suit that sorely needs ironed!  And say I do that real quick and make it back out.  What about breakfast?  That is the most important meal of the day, you know.  Can I be expected to go flying across the universe on an empty stomach?  Will there be signs pointing us in the right direction?
In all seriousness, some one posted a picture of a Mayan Calendar and an Oreo cookie on facebook the other day.  I thought there was an amazing resemblance except that the Oreo cookie was chocolate!  Oh, just thought of something else!  If the world has ended, wouldn't my Internet be down?  Oh, and I just had an email from Google that says if I want some one to be notified that I used their name in my blog I should put a mark before their name.  I digress but let me just try that here. +Stephen Smalley .  Now, dear cousin, let me know if that worked!
Back to this end of the world thing.  I did not bother getting ready for this one just like I never bothered the other umpteen times.  I hold firm to the Bible and the part where it says "No man shall know the day nor the hour....".  Oh, and trust me on this, there are a whole lot of other parts that I hold fast, also.  So now that the world seems secure for just a little longer, I will get back to planning my day.
I am gathering up a box full of soap that I made and I am going to take that and a bunch of lotion and body butters out to Los Pabros, the migrant center east of town.  I want the women out there to have something nice for Christmas.  I am not going to wrap it, but rather just have Sister pass it out with the food stuffs.  I was visiting with her the other day and they are sorely in need of men's clothes, so when you are cleaning and tossing any time, think of them.  I know it is easy to drop them off at the ARC or the Goodwill and those are very worthy causes, but so is Los Pabros.  If you will give me a call, I will be most happy to pick items up and deliver them out there.  The things we take for granted are luxuries at the center.  And needs are not limited to men.  There are lots of women and lots of kids of all ages. 
If you ever feel moved to do something, just leave me a comment at the end of my post and a way to get in touch with you.  Or visit my profile and I think my contact info is in that.  For now, I am off to brighten my little corner of the world while it is still here!
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www.shop.loumercer3.com
 

I am almost done.

Very soon this will be a part of my past.  Last weekend we had the estate sale.  Last night Ross and I emptied the house almost completely.  I will go over there today and load a couple boxes and run the vacuum.  Then that goes in the car along with me.  Wednesday we will empty the garage. 
It has been a long 2 1/2 years.  I would like to say it was all smooth sailing, but it wasn't.  Dealing with  death is never easy for anyone involved.  I will say this for Sherman, he handled it with  more grace and acceptance than I thought it was possible for one human to muster.  I hope I can do as well when my time comes.  He set the bar pretty high and I am just not sure I can reach it.
I had been a widow 7 years when I met Sherman.  Following that I will be 78 years old before I date again.  Wonder how that is going to work?  If you look carefully at the porch trim on the top you will notice that one of the white pieces is missing.  It was not there when I met him and we always meant to finish that, but never quite got around to it.  Kind of like life, isn't it?  There is always one more thing that needs done!
Miss you Sherman.
 

Is it writer's block or is it just life catching up with me?

Those of you who know me, know that I lost a very dear friend and companion one week ago.  The fact that he passed on Friday the 13th did not escape my notice and indeed did bring a smile to my face and heart because it was so like he had actually chosen that day out of all the others.  He did have that sort of sense of humor.

So now I am here alone again thinking of all the questions I should have asked him about his growing up years, the years he travelled the country, the sail boat he and a friend built and sailed to Guatemala, his business in Denver, and all sorts of things.  And he had very long arms.  I wanted to measure with our elbows together to see where my fingers would end on his arm. 

This picture was taken in front of his house when his brother came to visit.  Poor dear was always cold it seemed.  I would love to tell you all about this part of my life, but I am restricted so I will just tell you this: Yes, he and I were very close and in a different time and place we would no doubt have taken our relationship to a much deeper level, but that did not happen.  We did discuss it at great length even as we knew his time on this earth was limited.  I would have been most honored to have been his wife.

But that is niether here nor there and now I must get my life back together and move on.  I want you all to know that I appreciate your patience and while moving on is not an easy task, it will be done.  This blog is my way of easing a little of the pain I feel and if I have offended anyone about all I can say is "Sorry, but he was mine, too."

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or right here with the paypal button.

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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But are you missing my real calling?

Just a little note here to let some of you know that if you are not checking in on http://www.delilahsdatingdilemma.blogspot.com then you are missing my feeble attempt at a novel.  I do not want to give it away, but I am writing ahead of what you will be reading and I have to work on it in the daylight because I am scaring myself.
You will need to go to the address above and go back to the November 6 post to start at the beginning, unless of course, you like to read magazines as I do.  I start at the back and read to the front.  But on books I start at the front.  All a matter of personal preference, me thinks.
When you read this please keep in mind that it is pure fiction at it's very best  And leave me a comment which you do by clicking on that little envelope at the end of the post.  Give me your real opinion, cause you know I appreciate honesty!
The name of it is Chapter One.

Do online acquaintences count like real ones?

As you may have guessed, I have several  "online friends".  Most of them I call friends because I do not want to be bothered spelling out the word acquaintance.   Since AOL automatically adds any one who emails me to  my address book, I have a very full address book.  I also have a category that is marked "If I croak" and Bret has instructions that if I do suddenly cease to exist, he is to notify these 2 people.  Only two.  The first one will no doubt tell anyone who will listen and she knows which chat rooms I go to so that aspect will be covered.  The other one will get his "flushing finger" warmed up since I want to be buried at sea and that is the shortest, most direct route I know.  Just having a little trouble getting him to wait until after I am "gone."  And this, my friends, brings me to the crux of my missive today.
As you know, I sell on eBay.  eBay has chat rooms and a year or so I went to visit for the simple reason that on every post I make there is a link to my listings.  Good business sense, I thought.  Of course after a period of time I got to know people.  Some more than others.  One little gal in Florida and I were working on our html skills and the room we were in got very upset with us so we moved to another more liberal room.  The point here is we started emailing outside the chat room and are very good friends to this day.  I send her cookies and she eats them.  She in turn sends me little tokens.  I am as close to her as if she lived next door.  But I have never met her. 
A couple of months back I noticed that one of the regulars was not popping in at all.  So I mentioned it.  No response.  I mentioned it several more times and then let it go.  Then someone else mentioned it.  Two months!  Then came the announcement.  Seems the guy had "passed".  How sad that no one noticed he was gone for two months!  Had this group been here in my circle of friends, his absence would have no doubt been noticed right away, but the Internet is a very big, fickle place.  Friendships are made easily and just as quickly dissipate.  Yesterday's news, so to speak.  Had he been in my "real" world I would no doubt have at  the very least sent a card. 
There are many in my online address book that I hear from or contact on rare occasions.  Only these two hold special meaning for me. Now, I can not help but feel these friendships are as meaningful as if they were right here beside me.  Am I wrong?  Do we need flesh and blood contact to connect with people?  This Internet is a wonderful place if we use it correctly.  Am I doing that?  I have several friends who think I spend too much time on the computer, but it is what I do. 
I think that I am as close to Amy as any of my kids.  I would like to bring her to Colorado and take care of her.  Teach her things she needs to know to get by in this life, like proper nutrition.  ;) And my other friend and confidante knows me as well as anyone and way better than most.  He can see past my facade to the real me and point out my faulty thinking.  How he does that I will never know, but he is the first man I have ever "not met" that can do that.
I guess what I am really asking here is why we call it "passed" or "gone" when it is really "died"?  And if someone dies that I have never really known, do I still "know" them?  I realize that I was never close to Dan, but I still feel a twinge of sadness.  And I know if anything happened to my Amy or Oscar  I would be inconsolable.  Does that make me abnormal?  I think not.  Life is full of relationships on every level and in every degree.  My online friends are just as important to me as my real world friends.  So, maybe I am abnormal and maybe I am not.  Time will tell.
In the meantime I will hold on to the online connections and trust that they will be holding on to me.  And some day, I am sure, I will see them.  And when that day comes I can toss the computer, but for the moment it is my connection and it is here to stay, as real and vibrant as the friends in town.  So to one I sign off "Mountain Momma"  and the other, "Bella".  I love you both.  Just never get to say it often enough.
And all you others out there reading this,  I love you, too.  Love is a well that never runs dry and the more you give away the more you get.  So start spreading it around!

50 years ago or was it yesterday?

Yesterday  marked the 50 year anniversary of John Fitzgerald Kennedy being inaugurated as the 35th president of our fair land.  The newscaster noted that only 30% of the people alive today would remember that event.  I am among the chosen few!  I realize this dates me, but oh, well.  Facts are facts.

I remember so clearly that period of time.  It was amazing that a Roman Catholic of Irish descent was elected to the highest office of the land.  If I recall, he is the only Roman Catholic to ever hold the Presidency.  Correct me if I am wrong.

He was the most drop dead gorgeous thing and his wife was beautiful and every inch a lady.  Caroline was cute as a button and rode a horse named Macaroni.  As I recall, son John was born after the election and prior to the inauguration.  "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country!"  " The torch is passed to a new generation."  "Tear down this wall!"  "I am a Berliner!"  Every word the man uttered was carved in stone!

He was a family man all the way and every day.  I stood with millions of other young women with our noses pressed to the window watching the whirling couples dip and sway in a land called Camelot.  We all knew what and where Camelot was because John and Jackie taught us.  We learned about touch football from the Kennedy's on vacation in Hyannis Port.   From 1959 to 1963 we dreamed a dream and we loved our government!

We loved our government and tried to be good people.  We could envision a future for our children that had not been dreamed of before JFK threw down the gauntlet and his beautiful wife cheered him on to victory.  In that short period of time, I married and had two children.  I prayed as John and Jackie stood vigil over the crib of their premature son in 1963 and wept as they buried the tiny coffin. 

And I stood with my second child in my arms as I watched the motorcade wind through the streets of Dallas.  I watched as Jackie in her pink dress splattered with blood tried to help her fallen hero.  I flinched as Jack Ruby fired a point blank shot into the stomach of Lee Harvey Oswald, the man who had taken our dream away.

It was a magical time.  It was a time of hope and aspirations that had never been seen before and will never be seen again.  Who knows what the future would have been for this man with the funny accent and his perfect family, so clouded with tragedy and triumph?  I do not know.  What I do know is I am so blessed that I am part of this 30%.  It is a period of my life that gave me hope to make it to this point in my life.

I look at our government now and I look at how little respect we have for our chosen officials.  Fresh after the mess in Tuscon I look back at how we treat our heroes.  One person, whether it be Lee Harvey Oswald,  James Earl Ray, Sirhan Sirhan, or the guy in Tuscon, can wreak so much havoc and destroy so many dreams.  I do not know the solution, well I do, but no one wants to hear it.  It is in a song that goes like this...."What the world needs now, is love, sweet love!  That's the only thing we have too little of." 

That is all I know.  The Camelot years are gone, but not forgotten by 30% of the nation today.   I only hope I never forget the euphoria that gripped our nation at that time!  I hope I never quit clinging to the dream of a better life and time.  I do not want to ever give up the optimism that I cultivated at that time.  Camelot will always live in this woman's mind!

Merry Christmas!!

Well, it is here.  The longest awaited day of the year.  I went to church last night and was absolutely amazed at how many people were there that I had never seen before!  My little church was filled with strangers and the best part is many of them were young people!

For many years I have been a cynic as to why people treat Christmas as a pagan holiday and a time to celebrate lord only knows what.  It is feverish shopping, ostentatious over decorating, over indulgence of every sort, and gotta have a drink cause it is Christmas.  Last night gave me insight into what exactly is going on. 

Now this was not my first rodeo as far as Christmas Eve service goes, however, this was much different.  Usually it is the Sunday morning crowd all dressed up and out after dark.  This time there were very few of the Sunday morning crowd, but there were a lot of young people.  Our church has only 3 small children.  They were not there last night, but these were young adults I had never seen before.  It was just great and made me think back to the Nickerson, Kansas, First Christian Church with Reverend Barnett.

I met a lady in South Fork (and that is another story altogether that I shall tell) many years back who told me Reverend Barnett wound up down in Texas and had lost everything in the collapse of the Savings and Loan business, which is but a dark, lurking memory and I am not going there today. 

Mother always took us to church on Sunday and of course Christmas Eve.  My father was an agnostic so he never attended any of that stuff.  Now you need to know that in the period I grew up in, poverty was the norm.  How my mother ever managed to put anything under the tree still amazes me to this day.  On the last day of school before we left for Christmas break, one of the teachers would give one of us 5 kids the tree from their room.  Which ever one of us received the tree would drag it home the mile to the house and mother would put it up. 

Then we strung popcorn or made a rope of papers glued together and draped that around the branches.  Somehow we always had hot chocolate on that special night.  Nothing for Santa though because he was getting plenty of cookies from other people.  I wish I had owned a camera then.  I do not think we have a picture anywhere of Christmas morning at our house.  But those days are as clear in my memory as if they were happening today.  One year it was an orange (always it was an orange), a book of paper dolls to cut out, and a red ball.  Once when times were really good, I got a tin  miniature doll house with miniature furniture and tiny mother, father, boy, girl and dog.  It even had a tiny patio!

Those memories are best left locked in the back of my mind if I want to be in any kind of mood to be festive today.  Why is it that the past, that was so stark and depressing, is the time we yearn for in our heart of hearts?  I think it is like my mother said, "You grew up with that.  That was your normal life.  The tasteless food is what you ate for years and since that is what you know, that is what you want."  My mother was the wisest woman in the whole world and I miss her with my whole heart, especially today. 

Christmas is about the Christ Child and it is about reaching down deep inside yourself and remembering.  I know the greatest honor I can pay my mother is to never forget my roots; to always know that the generations that went before me left a legacy that I must carry on.  I must and have tried to teach my children that we came from good stock and our roots run deep in forgein lands.  Our life is founded on honesty, truth, compassion and a steadfast beleif in God.

And that, my friends is what Christmas is all about!  Welcome Christ Child!