Minerva is right at home!

 So I have a puppy!  She is about 6 months old.  So far she has eaten the carpet on the stairs, 16 branches of the cotton wood tree, a hole in the wall, and many other things that I will no doubt discover at a later date.  She is a heeler and puts the geese to bed each night and wakes them up every morning. She has found my sewing room and the cat's litter box which is 3 floors below me.  I have barricades in place to keep her from that level, but it gets tiring to move a wooden barricade every time I need a pin, or something out of the freezer.

She is a very loving little dog, but she is a registered blue heeler and those of you on a farm know what that is!  I would love to take her to my daughter, Dona, who actually has a farm, but she has 3 dogs already and has her hands full with those.  Sadly they are just petting dogs and not working dogs, but it is what it is.

Right now I am at the computer with a cat on my left who will wake up and walk across the desk and step over the keyboard to set on my lap.  This will cause the dog to put his freezing cold nose under my right elbow and root it out of the way so he can get closer.  And that has now happened!  I left the computer briefly, but they await my return!

Now, she has moved her Puppy bed to the stairs and after falling out of it and rolling down the stairs 3 times, she has given up on that endeavor.  I was going to take a picture and post it for you, but this computer is way smarter than me and has hidden everything in a cloud some where and since John Tenorio passed away, I have no one to guide me through this process.  

So now here I set, wondering just what I had on my little mind when I started this blog entry.  I am sure it was important, but I think all I actually succeeded in doing is to make another copy of the 63,224 photos I now have in triplicate, and gave myself a headache.  I do now know that today is Saturday,  which came as a big surprise, since I thought I was on Friday!

So, off I go to let the geese out, after which I will shower and then wonder why I bothered since I have no where to go and nothing to do.  That is how it goes in my world.  How about yours?

Peace!

Santa Claus is coming to town!!

 Momma said it so it is true!  It is funny how so many years later the things momma said, come back to haunt me!  Especially things like, "You can't judge a book by its cover."  "You reap what you sow." "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."

I am not sure a lot of them made any sense at all, but nonetheless they seem to pop up fairly regularly in my everyday life and they seem to be most apropos to a situation I find myself in at the moment.  Now do not leap to conclusions that I have gotten myself in a pickle again, because I have not.  My life seems to be spinning along beautifully and I hope that will continue and not go spiraling out of control as life sometimes does!

It is the Christmas season and while the birth of the Christ child never ceases to fill my heart with joy, there is all the fa de la that goes along with bringing out the best or worst in some people.  I do not buy into the trappings of the season.  I do not fight the crowds to buy a gift for friends just for the sake of buying a gift for someone.  I do that all year long and Christmas is reserved for the birth of the Christ child.  I go to church.  I come home.  I do not drive slowly by the houses that are ablaze with lights and the meter on the side of the house is spinning at top speed.  I do not fight the crowds at the parade or at the mall.  Covid is always in my mind.  I do not want that stuff!

I do spend time remembering when the kids were young.  As a single working mother with five kids, Christmas was not always as nice as I would have liked and the table was rarely loaded with the bounty of the harvest!  One Christmas we had corn dogs, because that was what the kids wanted and it was cheap!  Daddy usually took them over Christmas break and Santa was a little more giving at Daddy's house.  That was fine with me and has absolutely nothing to do with my memories at this point.

The saying "It is what it is", comes to mind at this time.  Not sure if it is relevant at all, but there is a lot of truth to that statement and it has helped me over more than one rough patch!  Gibby said that and he was a very wise man and one of my most trusted friends in the days gone by.  He was one of the first to die from AIDS.  His was the first panel I made for my Memorial Quilt which hangs in the Library on Abriendo.  

The saddest part of getting old is the dimming of my memories!  At least I think that is it, but then again I am blessed with selective memory!  I remember things very vividly, and while that may not be exactly how it happened, it is how I remember it.  Momma used to say "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,"  and that is how I remember things.  My journaling may not be exactly how things happened, but they are what I remember.

"Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing."  "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." But, the best of all is "It is what it is."  And there you have it in a nutshell.  

Christmas is coming and this will be 81 of them that I have lived through.  Will this one be different?  Of course!  They all are.  But 6 days after Christmas, I get another shot at doing it right.  New Years with the resolutions to "do better this year."  I used to quit smoking every January 1, but it never worked out because I had no willpower.  I finally quit, but I do not even remember the date, nor the year.  It has been a very long time though!

So, just in case I do not make it back to this site for Christmas, I want to wish you all a very happy Christmas!  Remember the baby Jesus.  I know different religions do things differently, but just know that all roads lead to the manger and then to the cross.

As Tiny Tim would say, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

Peace!

Is there still love even at my age?

 When I first met Earl Duane Seeger 68 years ago, I knew immediately what love was.  One look in those sky blue eyes, a toss of that sunshine blonde hair and the muscles rippling in his arms and I was in a tailspin.  He was fresh out of the service and looking for love!  He had a job and a car and lived with 2 of his brothers.  A short 3 weeks later we were standing in front of the minister in the Presbyterian Church on Sherman Street  in Hutchinson, Kansas.  His mother had come in from Jetmore, Kansas and a blizzard sent her and Walter back before the service began.  October 30, 1960.  One or 2 of my sisters were there.  I can still close my eyes and remember my first love.

They say you never forget your first love and I believe that to be the gospel truth.  I know he loved me till the day he died and I still hold a very special place for him.  The marriage lasted 10 years and produced 5 beautiful, healthy children!  We shared custody and no one paid child support.  Some times the kids were with me and some times with him.  Even when I married husband #3 and moved to Colorado, the kids traveled back and forth.  Child support was never an issue.  Early on when the kids were with me full time he made the statement "Why should I pay you child support?  You have the kids and I have nothing."  Made sense to me!

So now, many years later he is gone.  I am a widow of 20 years from my 5th husband.   I live in a 2400 square foot house and do not even date.  Church on Sunday, Lagrees grocery through the week and occasionally the little grandson spends the night.  I do have a male friend and sometimes I make lunch or supper for us.  I have coffee with his brother a couple times a month if I remember.  I work as a seamstress for the local uniform store to make a little extra money.  That is my life.  That and taking walks around the neighborhood several times a week and going to the doctor in the spring for my annual checkup.

So what I am wondering this morning, is when did the fire go out and complacency set it as my new normal?  There was a time when I marched for gay rights.  A time when Martin Luther King's dream was also my dream.  When child abuse and neglect would bring me toe to toe with the offender.  A time when I would grab my fishing pole and head to the river all alone to catch the "big one".  A time when a man in a pair of tight Levi's was like waving a red flag in front of a bull!

I guess what I want to know is this:  At what point did I become an old woman and leave the vibrant being I used to be soaking up the sun in a solarium some where?  Is there an internal clock in all of us that one day just shuts off all the emotions I used to have and turns on the nap in front of the television through the news mode?  And through the Jeopardy! I used to like?  I still like to cook, but that is because I need to eat.  I take a shower every morning, but I do not even see the reasoning behind that because I do not even get dusty most of the time.  When did dancing all night end and 8:30 bedtime begin?  Is this all there is to life?

Do not misconstrue this missive as me complaining about my life.  My life is good.  I am secure in my retirement.  I do not want to join the Red Hat Club or volunteer at the local food bank.  Sixty five years ago my dream was to be a missionary in Africa.  I wanted to feed the hungry and comfort the sick, but instead a blonde headed, blue eyed Greek God crossed my path and I never got back on track.  I guess what I want to know is this:  Do any of you out there ever regret the path you followed?  

Momma always said, "You can not get the toothpaste back in the tube."  That just means that nothing once done, can ever be completely undone.  If I had never met Earl Duane Seeger, my life would definitely be different.  Better?  Probably not because I would not have the kids I have today.  They are my legacy and my life.  

But sometimes I just wonder had I actually made it to Africa, would I have made it back home?  I could have been in a pot and been dinner for a bunch of cannibals!  God works in wonderous ways, his miracles to perform.  

Peace! 

Ok, now it is getting personal!

 Time to vote and that is what I do.  It is my right.  It is my duty.  You have the same right and the same duty.  I respect that.  I used to love to stand in line and wait my turn at the polls.  I would visit with people in my precinct that I had not seen since the last time I voted.  Course that is all changed.

Now, I get my ballot in the mail and fill it out at my kitchen table.  I then put a stamp on it and walk it back down to the mail box.  Or throw it on the dash board of the car and drop it in the ballot box behind the "used to be bank" building on 8th and Main.  Never had to worry about poll hours or anything that way.  

Now we have a faction in this country that wants to change the voting laws and the way the electorate works.  There has got to be a way to keep the poor, the minorities, the "less equal then us" from being able to cast their ballot without it becoming a hardship!  No mail in ballots, no early voting

I also used to watch the news faithfully to see what was going on in the world.  Occasionally there was something on there that made me feel good, like the time that the rescuers saved those boy scouts who were lost in a cave some where overseas.  A place I never heard of, I think.  Those days are gone.

Now it is politics.  "Them versus us".  It seems that my world pretty much went to hell 3 or 4 years ago.  Respect for government has pretty well gone out the window.  Did it start when the world watched on live feed as a white policeman knelt on a black man's neck until he died? Did it culminate when a band of thugs breached security at the nations capitol and destroyed a piece of history?  And then when we were most vulnerable I watched the television screen show a little red "x" leave Wuhan,  China, travel across an ocean to Seattle, Washington and then cut catacorner down to Florida to begin spreading something called the "Corona Virus" in our country.  

It was then that we scrambled to find a vaccination to contain it and our mortality rate began to sky rocket.  It was then that a faction of America rebelled and refused to wear a mask or be vaccinated because "they" had "rights" that I do not have.  Death rates began to spiral from a pandemic that parts of our society dub a "government conspiracy" to circumvent their rights.  What the hell?

Where is my America?  You know, the one where we cared about each other?  Where are the lines for immunization where we all lined up to fight mumps, red measles, polio, diphtheria.....?  We quit flying the Confederate flag for a reason.  We used to be considerate of other people.  We used to say "excuse me" and "sorry".  A tear running down someones cheek used to invoke sympathy.

Where in the hell did MY America go?  Where is the compassion and common sense?  Maybe I am just a dreamer to think that this country can survive if we all pull together.

It just ain't happening, is it?

Oh, the things you do not say!

 I have a friend and when he starts to talk, he crosses his arms in front of himself.  Feet are apart and his back is straight with toes pointing slightly outward.  Now this screams "I am going to protect myself and you are not going to get close."  The words that come out of his mouth may be as casual as what a nice day it is or what he had for lunch, but the message relayed to me is nothing I am hearing.  Psychology 101.

I notice this in myself also.  Usually, I am pretty laid back and not much ruffles my little feathers, but occasionally the defenses go up and I turn inward and you can talk till you are blue in the face and I will not hear a word you say.  The conversation inevitably begins with "You just need to..." and ends with me sorting the mail and cleaning off the table.   You may think I just "need to", but unless it is my idea the need evades me.  

So, friend or foe, let's do this.... let us sit down here at the table.  I will fetch us a beverage of your choice.  I have coffee, tea, and water.  Hot or cold on the first two.  And be aware before you get too comfortable, there will be no winner or loser at this table!  You will no doubt think I took every word to heart but you are going to be sadly mistaken.  The conclusion that you draw from our conversation is now what you think you wanted all along.  You have been played by the master!

Mostly my life goes on every day in a mundane manner.  The dust piles in the corner and the cat hair covers the setting places in front of the television.  I gave up on the green carpet of grass outside the front and back door.  I now opt for the late fall dead weed scenario.  I do not have much company and that is due to the Covid crap that some bat in a lab in China is credited with developing.  Do not misunderstand me on this, my life is good!  Occasionally I will venture down into the sewing room and sew something interesting, like place mats or a quilt.  I made a lap quilt the other day and may make more of them and drop them off at the nursing home.  Then again I may not.

Today I am off to Monument with Ross, Rooster and Missy for Thanksgiving dinner with Robin and Terri and their family.  We will be missing Anna who is still in England and I, for one will miss her!  (When are you coming home, my little friend?) 

I got a new "kitty bed" for my Icarus and she sleeps beside me when I work here on the computer.  Right now the only sound in my house is the sound of the furnace that keeps me warm and the tinnitus ringing in my ears.

Life is good here on South Road most of the time.  I did have a fox problem a while back, but I solved that by buying a trap and playing catch and release with the neighbors cats.  

Now I see I have once more digressed from the subject I started to write about, but then that is one of the reasons I write and you read!  So, let us all go enjoy whatever we have planned for today and then meet here again later!  Right now I have to go whip a pint of cream to pile on the Tres Lechen Cake I made to take with us.  I plan on tossing a few Blueberries  on top followed by a sprinkling of cinnamon.  Maybe tomorrow I will remember what I wanted to tell you today, but for now,

Happy Thanksgiving and may our good Lord watch over us in our travels.

Peace!

A poem that should be written.

 I woke up this morning with the remnants of a poem in my mind.  I think it has already been written, but I can not find it nor recall the words.  It has been in my mind as long as I can remember, so if it rings a bell with anyone, let me know.  To me it has always been the epitome of the way a perfect relationship should be.  

I do not want to walk ahead of  you, because you may not follow.

I do not want to walk behind you, because I may not follow.

I want to walk beside you,  beneath your arm where I am protected and near your heart  where I am loved.

Country music singers and song writers have been writing the perfect love songs for as long as I can remember.  Garth Brooks and his "The Dance" pretty well sums up the loving and losing.  And then there is this by John Michael Montgomery click here.  Growing up in Nickerson was conducive to wanting a better life.  And along with the better life was always the thought of a perfect husband.  We all know how that went!  A husband should never be a "destination" in life.  I always pictured a husband  as an equal partner.  

When I embarked on my first marriage I was full of hope.  I think he was also, but hope for what I was never sure.  I wanted security and a man to love and fulfill me.  That did not end up well for me, but I chalked it up to a life lesson and moved on.  By the time I reached Colorado my kids were pretty well on the paths they would take and I was pretty well set in my ways.  When Kenny and I married it was clear that we were soon to be entering into the sunset of our lives.  We would grow old, retire and die.  One of us succeeded in that, but one of us did not.

So here I set.  Kenny has been gone 20 years.  I have had a couple male friends, but nothing romantic.  It seems that my place in their lives was to help them cross the bar.  I know I did it right with Sherman, because I saw the look of contentment on his face when he took his final breathe.  The other was different.  I know I held a special place and I was very sad when it was over, but I do so hope that he found the peace he sought.  

So anyway.  This is not a good way to start the day, but it is what it is.  I shall put one foot in front of the other and follow where life leads me.  Maybe it will be a good day.  I can always hope!

Peace and sunshine and if that poem up there strikes a chord and you remember seeing it some where, hit me up!

If I had known

 If I had known the last time I held you that it would be the last time, I would not have  let you go.  I would have hugged you tighter and I would have thanked God for letting me.

If I had known that the last time I talked to you on the phone was the last time I would hear your voice I would not have put the receiver back in the cradle.

If I had known that the trip to the Reservoir was the only one we would take I would still be standing on the bluff looking out at the water.

The Scrabble Board is dusty.

The kite remains folded.

The Sand Dunes are still waiting.

The Aspens have lost their leaves.

The sun still sets and the moon still rises.

The stars still twinkle and I am sure some where life goes on, but it is not here.  I look into the abyss that is my life and try to make meaning of it.  I put one foot in front of the other and I say the things I am expected to say, but the world is empty and space but a void.

I must search for a new meaning to life because, after all, I am a survivor.

I been rode hard and put away wet!

Husband number 3 had a hard time understanding his second wife.  That was me!  He found it necessary to go to my mother and complain to her that I was not totally dependent on him and did as I "pleased" most of the time.  He had no say so in how the kids were raised, blah, blah blah.

Now you need to understand that at the time I married him, I owned my own home, operated a resturant, (Lou's Kitchen) and supported 5 kids with no child support.  The man was nuts for ever marrying me in the first place and he sure was not interested in being a father to someone else's kids, so I did not know just what he expected.  The kids spent a lot of time in Garden City with their dad and since he paid no child support, I figured that was alright.  He was their father after all!

But back to the current husband and his need for a clingy, dependent woman.  Sorry, buddy, I have never been clingy, nor dependent.  I knew who paid the bills and I knew whose paycheck went into the bank for that purpose.  So when he sought my mother's advice he might as well have beat his head against a brick wall.  She just explained to him that I had been screwed over a couple times and that I had a hard time trusting anyone to "take care of me."

He was upset that I did not jump up all happy and cheerful first thing in the morning.  She told him that if that was the case, he should just leave me alone until I was ready to be happy, cheerful little thing.  I do recall several times when he was so hung over he could not function, but that was alright, that was him.

When he went into the spiel about me managing my own finances and not making the kids dad pay child support, she explained to him that since that was a futile endeavor it was best that he just not meddle n my finances.  

" You know, Charlie, it is kind of like when you ride a horse.  You gotta take it easy on the horse and when you put it in the barn, you have to groom it and cover it so it won't get sick.  You see, poor little Louella has been rode hard and put away wet!"

He decided at that point that my mother was as crazy as I was.  He just couldn't understand the dyamics of an independent woman.  So we came to Colorado where he was sure I would worship at the alter of Charlie.  In all fairness I tried to be the mousy little thing he wanted, but that just wasn't in my chemical makeup, so we divorced.  Then we remarried and then we divorced again and both moved on.  

Now I am not sure why this is on my mind this morning, but it is.  So now you know and you can do what you will with this worthless little bit of knowledge.  One thing is for sure, I have no secrets, so if anyone wants to blackmail me they are S O L.  I trust you all know what that means.

The one thing I have learned in this life is that no one is responsible for my happiness, but me.  My last husband and I were happy until the day he died, but I think that was because we respected each other and were happy with ourselves, which left us free to be happy with each other.  If I could find another man like that, I would be all over him,   But I think God broke the mold after he made him.

So peace and prosperity to all from the broken old nag here on South Road!

I survived October.

I survived with my mind still intact and I must say, I did not have nearly as much trauma as October usually brings.  Yesterday was the 54th year of my brother's passing.  The month also marked my birthday, as well as 2 of my kids, my first wedding anniversary, my brothers birthday.  Halloween is not the only thing in October for me, it just marks the end of a lot of bad stuff.  But it is now time to move on!

I have one sister left and she called me last night.  That was nice.  I want to get down to see her and when the geese are gone I will be free to travel.  At least I hope so.

I accept all the bad stuff and remember that first there was good stuff.  I had a wonderful brother.  I had a wonderful first husband and father to my children.  A lot ended in October, but there were lots of bright beginnings.  I have spent many years reliving a lot of garbage, but today is a new day.  I have dealt with my demons and put them to rest.  I shall spend the rest of my life counting blessings instead of recalling sadness.  With that in mind, I am going to a big birthday party on November 9!

It will be Rose Torres 60 big ones!  I do not like to go any where at night and sure do not want to go alone, but I am going to bite the big one and do this.  It is times like this that I would like to have a man in my life that I could press into service, but such is not the case, so there you go!  First there is going to be dinner and I do love to eat and my favorite stuff to eat is Mexican food made by people who have been doing it all their lives.  Then there is going to be a dance!  Kenny was not a man who had any rhythm in his body, so I have not danced since I married him in 1983.  This could be humorous!  I bet if John Tenorio were still around, he would go with me!  If you are reading this and have any ideas feel free to call and tell me.  Otherwise I am going to be out there dancing alone, but I am going!

So, back to the real world.  Tomorrow is our craft fair at the church.  Our kitchen will be open and I have made red and green chile, breakfast burritos, and lots of cookies for the bake table.  I do not know what time it starts, but I have to be there at 8:30, I think.

So with my new mantra of "Yesterday is gone and tomorrow is far away, so live every day as if it were your last!" I shall wind this up, run through the shower  and chase rainbows!

Peace!

Welcome to day 3 of the worst month of the year.

I am setting here listening to the fans running in the bathroom where the now defunct washer sets and in the bedroom downstairs where the water eventually stopped.  Last night the washer float stuck.  Since nobody was paying attention, it continued to over flow until Mike went down stairs and found water gushing from the ceiling into his tool box.  That got our attention.

I stood in ankle deep water to unplug the washer and turn off the cold water valve.  Yes, God is good or I would be a fried tomato today.  Now I face a day of dealing with the insurance company and hoping that this can be taken care of in a timely manner.  I want so bad to put the little Laugh Out Loud emoji here, because I do not think "over flowing water" and "the ceiling of the basement" an ever be a good thing.  It would be nice if it would just dry up and go away, but I hear little voices in my head saying "wet dry wall", "black mold" and things like that.  And no where in this scenario do I see the words "timely manner" appear.

But here is the deal, it is what it is.  No way around it.  I just flashed back to my second husband when I used the words "It is what it is".  That hit a chord in his brain that turned him into a raving lunatic, but there in again, "It is what it is."  Back to my dilemma. Today is the day I had planned to freeze my Pueblo Chile so I can have lots of green chile when company comes.  They count on it.  I will see how long the insurance guy takes.

I do have a theory, though.  I think dark thoughts draw bad Karma.  Rather then dwell on how bad October is, I need to concentrate on the good October brings.  First my birthday.  Surely I have made someone happy some where and so rather then railing against my birth, I should actually be celebrating.  Tomorrow is Sam's birthday and while all my kids have been blessings, he is the man child who will take care of me in my old age.  Yes, we will do it that way!  I am not going to be sad, I am going to be happy.

I will deal with my brother's birthday in just a couple days and this year I am going to only find good in it.  Watch for that one on Saturday.  I loved that boy and think of him every day.

Now for good thoughts on the flood of last night.  That damn floor was needing cleaned any way and it got a very good cleaning last night! I used all my towels to soak up the water and now have no washer to wash them in, but it is what it is.  There is a laundromat some where that will welcome my business,

 So I am going to pick up chile's today and deal with the insurance and thank my God above for mopping the floor!

Peace to all!  It is going to be a beautiful day!

I love you!

When I say I love you, you must know that I also love ice cream and cake,  coffee, roses, a walk in the park and any number of things.  I love the preacher.  I love my dog and my cat. I love the soft rain on my face. You are not my exclusive love.  God did not put me on this earth for you alone, he put me here to brighten all the dark corners, to feed the hungry and to play with the children and the puppies.

I have had occasion to meet a complete stranger on the street and stand on the sidewalk talking for almost an hour about everything and nothing.  I have had lunch with someone I have known for 7 minutes and bared my soul to my fellow traveler and then walked away without even learning his name.  Two ships in the night.

Love is like a ring; it has no beginning and no end.

If you catch a butterfly and touch it's wings, it can not fly away.  I was your butterfly, but my wings remained untouched and I flew away.

A wise woman once told me "Love is not love until you give it away."  I have spent my life trying to give it all away and it just keeps coming back! A never ending circle.

If I love you, do not be afraid for it is all good and pure.

And if you love me, I will treasure it in my heart, I will nurture it, and when the time is right I will set it free!

It is what it is.

Every morning I wake up to face another day.  Usually it is about 5 AM.  I lay there for a little while thinking about yesterday and wondering about today.  I know there is nothing I can do to change yesterday, but today there is hope.  I think hope is the one thing that keeps me going, but things do not always work out like I had planned.  Sadly, I do not have the ability to control other people.  I know what would make their life work better and bring them happiness, but they have their own ideas.  So I accept that.

I once told a friend of mine "I do not understand why John Doe did what he did.  I thought I knew him better than that."  My friend told me, "You never know a person.  You only know what they let you see."  Of course he was right.  I do not see John Doe any more, but I do see my friend.  Some people become our friends for life, it seems and some are just ships passing in the night.  That makes me sad.

Mother was wise in the ways of the world.  I miss her more than words can convey.  If I was sad, she would tell me "Tomorrow is another day."  It seems my poor little tender heart has been broken so many times that it would  never heal, but losing her was like losing a part of myself.  I have her picture on the top of my desk.  It is a black and white picture.  I have an 8 x 10 that is the last thing I see when I leave the house. It is a colored photograph and I see her gray eyes.  Her and I had the same color eyes.  I assume my father had eyes, but I forget what color they were.  It has been over 50 years since I saw his eyes.

Mother always told me "If you can reach the end of your life and you have 5 true friends that you can count on one hand, you are blessed."  And for many years I did.  But now I am beginning to wonder.  Some of them have gone to a better place (which means they died), some have moved away.  Some have remarried and built new lives.  And some of them just found other interests.  Sad. My 2 best friends are men.  One has been in my life since I came to Colorado in 1973 (?).  The other I met when I married Kenny.  I do not see them often, but we keep in touch.  I guess maybe I do have 5 friends left.  I am hoping they outlive me!

So where was I?  I guess I am just facing my mortality and learning to accept all the death and sorrow that life has to  offer.  The old body may very well be wearing out, but my mind is still sharp and I can still feed myself, so I guess life is good.  One thing is for sure....

It is what it is. 

Better late than never?

Well, John Tenorio pretty well opened the flood gate to let all my friends escape this life when he passed late last year.  Then went Annie, Chaz, Nancy, Shirley and lastly Jim.  Needless to say I had plans with all of these people, or meant to at least.  Annie was expected; Chaz was not.  Nancy was expected; Shirley was not.  Jim was inevitable.  I set here now waiting for the next shoe to drop.  Mother always said it was sad to watch the nursing homes especially.  When fall comes the leaves drop and the little old people go to their reward.  Then comes Spring and with new growth the little old and sick people get new life, but it is not in this world.  Mother was wise.  When I would forget to do something in a timely manner, or blow it off completely, she had these words for me.  "Better late then never."  But was it?

When the pale horse with his rider goes by, it is too late.  The final curtain has fallen, the bell has rung, and "woulda", "coulda", "shoulda" are no more.  It is over and time is no more.  There is no way I can tell grandma what an impact she had on my life.  Oh, not while I was living it, but lo these many years later I can see so clearly.  Grandma Haas was an invalid due to a stoke and Great Grandma Hatfield took care of her.  I helped as much as I could, which was not very damn much, but I do not think that was what I was there for.  I think I was there in case one of them died I could call somebody.  I can remember helping her get ready for bed and pulling her dress up over her head.  I had to be very careful because she and Grandma Hatfield both had pierced earring and it was a nightly chore to untangle the dress from the earrings on both women.  Lord only knows what they did before I came.

Grandma Hatfield was prone to shingles and it was my nightly job to check her to see if any shingles were appearing and if they were I must make sure to check very carefully and apply medicine, because if the shingles went clear around her waist and met, she would immediately die.  I lived in mortal terror that they would become active while she was asleep and she would be dead when I went in the next morning.  Apparently someone was alert because she lived to be 104.  Grandma Hatfield was tall, or so it seemed.  She was regal in her bearing.  She rarely spoke but I just figured since she was 99 years old when I lived with them, that she had probably just talked herself out.  I am not sure she really knew I was there!

Grandma Haas was a very sweet little old grandma and looked like grandma's were supposed to look.  She had beautiful blue eyes and her hair was golden rather then gray.  I still have that golden braid tucked away somewhere.  Since I was 15 years old she thought she should have "the talk" with me.  This is it in it's entirety, I swear to God.

"Have you started your menstral cycle yet."  (I had a vague idea of what that might be.)
"No".
"Ok, when you do, tell momma and she will let you stay home from school that day."

Well, there was a little something to look forward too since school was the only place I could go and escape the tedium of my life.  The only book I was allowed to read was the Bible and the only entertainment was learning to crochet.  I had to keep my shoes on at all times.  Aunt Lena sometimes let me play in the horse tank.  Television was just coming out and the Smith family had one, but I was not allowed to go over there and look at it because I would surely rot in hell!

I miss the grandma's.  I wish I could go back in time and this time I would listen.  I would listen about the aunts and uncles and the trip over from Germany.  I would learn about the herbs and tinctures that Great great grandma Gagnebien  used and how to be a midwife and how to make molasses.  But I didn't.  But you know what?  I think that sometimes those old ancestors pop into my head and tell me things because sometimes I know things that are true and there is no way I could know them.  I think my ancestors live inside me.  Course I may be nuts.

There is that!

Why do I listen to Classic Country Music?

Because when one of the old guys starts singing I can understand the lyrics and the lyrics are the song as far as I am concerned. Like this one by Conway Twitty. He tells it like it is. https://youtu.be/XOLsaTRrWCs. No banging on a an electric guitar. No screaming out words that are not in the English language. Just down to earth words about pain, love, cheating, prison, trucks, momma and old dogs and children and watermelon wine. Like the one I linked up above. That one is "She needs someone to hold her when she cries," And I wish I had a dollar for every time that song ran through my head. Oh, not now, but back in the days of worthless men and binge drinking.

I know it is hard to picture me as ever having been young and even harder to picture me in a mini skirt out on a dance floor with men actually waiting to be the next one to spin me around the floor.  Sadly, I had a small problem with alcohol back in those days and my evening usually ended up with me on the floor praying to that porcelain god known as the toilet bowl.  It was at that point of the evening that the boys ideas of romance were out the window. Whoever had brought me understood that they were to take me home.  Whether it was a female friend or my date of the evening, it was their job to deliver me back to where they found me.  That followed another rule my mother had taught me, "You leave with the one who brung you!"  Yep.  Mothers words are embed in my brain clear down to my feet!  She was the wisest woman I knew then and she still reaches down on occasion and pulls me up short of some mess I am about ready to get myself into.

What Mother has to do with country music and beer drinking songs, I do not know.  I just know she has been gone for many years and she still pops in from time to time to give me those knuckles on top of my head!  Did your mother ever do that to you?  That crack from those boney knuckles always stopped me in my tracks no matter what I was doing.  I am sure I did that to my kids also and for that I beg their forgiveness.  Or do I?  Maybe not.  I have raised some damn good kids.  They all have the basics down pat.  They are honest, hard working, dependable, independent, and devoted to their mother!  They check in from time to time and are not clingy.  As far as I know, they have never been in jail and if they were it was not for very long.  

So I do not know how I got from the virtues of country music to raising kids, but I suppose my mind just took one of its turns that it is famous for, but I think there is a lesson in here some where.  Shortly after Kenneth and I got together (We lived in sin one year.  Wanted to see if we could get along before we tied the knot and had to get a divorce.) he came home and said he had just heard "Our song".  The one he came up with was "Close enough to perfect for me." https://youtu.be/UVivkbmu3To .  When I heard that song I knew that this was a marriage made in heaven.  If he could accept me as I was, where I was, then we would make it.  And we did.

Kenneth has been gone 17 years.  It seems like yesterday.  I rather doubt that there is another man alive who can accept me just as I am and where I am in my journey through this thing called "life."

So I am just going to treasure every day and do what I can to make someone happy some where.  Doesn't seem like there is much else to do.

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.

I may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but...

I am not big on government and how all this works, but it has come to my attention the ours is not working at all.  I know we have checks and balances and I also know we pay a bunch of people in Washington, D. C. to pass laws and generally keep my world spinning on its axis.  Seems like there should be about 102 Senators and 435 Representatives ( I could be wrong on the actual numbers because my memory is not what it used to be back when I actually paid attention.) Along with all these people who are elected to represent us in our great capitol  are many helpers, secretary's, and various assistants of all kinds.  All these are there to make sure my life runs along on an even keel and I can go about my business of living and making money to pay taxes for these people to run my life.  Not happening, is it?

I pay my taxes and the powers that be use my money to pay these great men and women to keep me safe and happy.  Well, it sure as hell is not working out that way now, is it?  We have a nut in the white house, placed there through the help of Communist Russia and the people I depend on to make my life run smoothly are running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off trying to make me think that they are doing their job!  How friggin' stupid do you think I am?

The Polar Ice Cap is melting because of a thing called Global Warming and the EPA is non existent.

 People seeking asylum because they are being raped and murdered by the drug cartels in their  countries are being locked up at our borders and their children shipped to "holding facilities" without even a wrist band to identify infant children so they can be returned to their parents.

 Blacks and other minorities are being harassed by rebel carrying rednecks who are still fighting the Civil War.

Pipelines are being shoved across land that was "given" to the Indigenous People who habituated the land by our magnanimous government years ago when we stole the only home they knew.  Bet they wish they could take back the welcome they gave us!

The streets are full of drug addicts that became addicted because big Pharma pushed opioids for every ache and pain through prescriptions  pushed by doctors who received payoffs for selling the product that they knew were addictive.

Teachers are not given the tools they need to teach our children and the cost of getting a higher education gets higher and more impossible to achieve.

People die in our streets for lack of healthcare.

I could go on and on, but suffice it to say, no one is listening in the hallowed halls.  The only time these people know we are here is election time.  And that, my friends is the key!  They are in Washington D.C. because we sent them there.  You can send an honest person to Congress, but you can not get them back.

Mitch McConnell, Paul Ryan, and the whole damn bunch have been there and padded their pockets with money and favors from the NRA, Big Pharma,  Monsanto and the Koch Brothers,  just  to mention a few.  They are not interested in our welfare.  What they are interested in are laws that let them operate at our expense.  We are not even allowed the luxury of having our food labeled and the contents that end up in our bodies are irrelevant to the bank accounts of the powers that control our lives.

Do you think that the man that ordered the babies taken away from their only security on this earth bothered to ask why so may people were running from one country.  Hell no!  That man is a loose cannon and the very people we sent to protect us are in bed with the enemy.  The countries around the whole world laugh at us.  We are backward and we should be the leaders.  Other countries educate their children and furnish healthcare , but we set here like morons wondering how in the hell that joke of a man got into such a position of power.   Let me tell you, if we do not pull our head out of our ass and wake up the Congress we are going to be marching off to our own Auschwitz.  And it has to start with a whole new bunch in Washington who are not controlled by money.

Think your vote does not count?  Think again.  Not voting or casting your "protest vote" is what got us here today.  For God sake, educate yourselves!  Register.  Study your candidates and do not just go with what Facebook puts out there as fodder for the masses!  The race for even your precinct in your local city is important.  The mayor race is important.  The Governor, Senator, Representative, and on and on.  The school board.  Do not go like a lamb to the slaughter because the man you sent to the Senate all those years ago, is a familiar name.

I watch as groups march against the yoke being tightened around our throats and I watch the nightly news and see the leaders in Washington doing nothing.  NOTHING!!  Their job is to lead us.  Yeah, like lambs to the slaughter.  Use some of your precious minutes to call their offices and tell the answering machine (because very few of them even bother with a live person in their office) to stop the madness and return us to the civility that we deserve.  We work hard and pay a congress to protect our interests.  And do it today.  Not tomorrow or some future time when a man with a tattoo gun is putting your identification on your forearm as he leads you to a bus.

A country that does not learn from it's mistakes is doomed to repeat them.

PEACE THROUG POWER!

The road is a lot shorter than it used to be.

I think back to Nickerson and Strong Street and as I recall, my future stretched before me and the road was very long.  Days were filled with running up and down the dirt road barefooted and playing "Kick the Can" at night.  That was summer.  The sand pit was up the road behind the house.  We were not allowed to go there.  We knew that.  So where do you think we spent the hot afternoons?  Correct.  The sand pit was cool.  We knew we would get a lickin' sure as shit if Momma knew we were in that water, so we made sure we were dry before she got home.  Seems like the name of that sand pit was Vincents.  Athey's sand pit was over on the highway and Mummy's was outside of town near the Arkansas river, so this one had to be Vincent's.  It was not a working pit, so no one was ever around.  Of course there was a "No Trespassing" sign, but we were too little to read it and if we had been able to read it, we had no idea what trespassing meant.

I could not swim when I was little so I always stayed in the low part with the little kids.  To be honest I did not learn to swim until about 10 years ago.  Kenny did not know how to swim either and we took the boat out every weekend in the summer.  I think we were pretty naïve in that area, but it all worked out.  I had made sure that all my kids knew how to swim, but I never thought it was important for me to know.  About 10 years ago, I decided that I should learn the art of that and off I went to the warm water pool at the "Y".  I learned the art of survival and decided that swimming was not for me and I gave it up for other things.  I just never liked the water up my nose or in my ears.  Sorry.  Just not my bag.

I do not think most of you know just what Kansas weather is and how we survived back then.  It is hot in Kansas.  Hot and humid.  There were no air conditioners in those days.  The best we could hope for was to lay under a tree in the shade and with a little luck, a soft breeze would blow across our bodies and that was how we cooled ourselves.  Churches used to have cardboard fans in the rack where the hymnals were kept.  We were not allowed to steal those either.  It was not unusual for the temperature to soar above the 100 degree mark.  And of course on days when it was that hot and a cloud came up there was a damn good chance that it was bringing a tornado.  Feast or famine.  We knew if  a tornado came we were to run for the cellar, but I have already told you that no way in hell was I going down in that hell hole.

If we thought summers were bad, we knew winters were worse.  We had a wood stove in the front room, but it burned out in the night and had to be rebuilt every morning.  That was Jake's job.  Since we walked to and from every where.  When it snowed we followed in Jake's footprints going to school.  I do not remember having boots when I was little, but I do recall at one point Jake grew out of his and they were handed down to me.  Does anyone remember galoshes?  They were black and had 4 or 5 buckles on the front to hold them on.  I would rather have been caught stark naked in a snowbank then to be caught dead in those things.  Of course mother gave me that lecture on "pride going before the fall and a haughty spirit before destruction" and I wore the damn things to school.  In later years I worked and made enough money to buy my first new pair of boots.  I went to Warringtons Dry Goods and they had two pairs in my size.  One pair was brown rubber and the other was white with fur around the top.  I wanted the white pair so bad I could taste it, but I bought the brown pair so as not to be prideful.  What a friggin' moron I was in those days!

I recall mother making me a new coat.  It was light teal corduroy and had been something else previously, but she carefully took it apart and cut a pattern to fit me.  I was so proud!  I wore it to school as soon as it was finished and some boy said, "So you got a new coat.  It is still old and it is not pretty."  Kids are so mean at that age.  I would like to say it did not bother me, but it did.  Until you live in a world where everything is hand me downs, you can not know the feelings.  I tried to just be happy that I had a coat that no one had worn before me, but somehow the joy was gone.

When I entered high school it was in Plevna, Kansas and I lived with my Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield.  I stayed there for 5 months until Grandma Haas passed away.  Then I was moved back to Nickerson and enrolled in Nickerson High. 

I would like to say that my life got better and I was happy at school, but that would be a lie.  I do look back on my early childhood in Nickerson as the happiest time of my life, but not at school.  I was happy at home, but I was an outcast at school and I grew to resent the snobby kids.  My best friend all through grade school was a girl named Barbara, but when we left grade school she drifted away.  By the time I reached my Sophmore year I had new friends and weekends usually were spent sneaking into Duke Bankey's home brew.  We moved to Hutchinson the year I was a senior.  I dropped out of school and my formal education was behind me.  I was now an attendee in the school of hard knocks and I graduated at the head of my class although I was never sober enough to know it. 

And then life picked me up and spun me around and landed me here on the Mesa.  So here I set looking down a very short road at what remains of my Golden years.  Sorry, but that is such an asinine statement.  I am once more reminded of one of Mother's jewels of wisdom.  I was beating my chest once and she had told me I was my own worst enemy.  At the time I thought she was nuts, but as I contemplate that next hill I have to climb I hear the echoes of another of her adages and I think this was her best.  It was "Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind."  She was right.  I spent many years sowing the wind and now it is time for my harvest.  I gotta' say, it got here a whole lot faster then I thought it would.  Yesterday I was young, but the stop sign is coming up fast!

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.

It was a black and white world back there on Strong Street.

I see the news and it makes me sick.  We are consumed with fear and hatred of the "Radical Islamic Terrorist," the illegal immigrants, the gays, the blacks, and God only knows who else that we are killing  in the name of "peace and tranquility."  My dying ass!

We have elected a man to the white house who embodies all the hatred rolled into one ball and he does it in the name of "Keeping America Great."  I ask you just how great we are now?  And when I say "we elected,"  I mean just that.  Everyone that cast a "protest vote" or skipped voting because it "really doesn't count", or worse yet, the ones who actually marked a vote for a man who spews hate through every pore got us where we are right now!  Blame it on Russia if you so choose, but had we been United as we claim, they could not have gotten their foot in the door.

When Donald Trump was spewing his hate and "Lock her up!" rhetoric I, like most other Americans, just chalked that up to showmanship and politics as usual.  The majority of American's laughed at his antics knowing that no way would he be elected.  But the electoral college bit us in the fanny  And little did I realize the fact that this world is filled with frustration and hate that is mostly directed at our governement.  This and the fact that church attendance has fallen to a new low tells me we have a real problem  Back in Nickerson we hid our heads in the sand.

Oh, I knew that there was a "colored family" that lived outside of town some where, but we never saw them.  We also knew the Klu Klux Klan operated every where.  I never actually saw any cross burnings, but a small town is good for gossip.  I never really knew who was in the Klan and at one point I thought probably my dad was.  Seems he had a rather colorful past that was tied to the Chicago mafia, but like I said....

My mother was probably the hardest working, most honest, and kindest woman who ever graced this earth and she taught me well.

If someone is hungry, feed them.

I someone is thirsty, give them a drink.

If you find something valuable on the ground, it is still not yours.

A lie is a lie.

Some women are just born to be old maids.

Some men are just "momma's boys."

We are all the same color when the lights are out.

Most of her wisdom could be dispensed in a sentence of less than 10 words.  No sense spewing out a bunch of useless words that no one was gonna remember no how!  Gotta love my momma!

But back to my rant of today.  I live in the county where all the gardens are.  Beautiful Mesa!  In the summer the fields are alive with workers picking the crops.  On a 100 degree day I see them in thier long sleeved shirts and pants with hoods over thier heads.  They keep thier bodies covered to keep the hot sun off of thier skin.  I need shade and a breeze when I am outside.  Inside I need my central air. They move across fields in tandem and behind them the fields are empty and beside them the trucks are full of green peppers, buckets of tomatoes and bags of onions.  A sight to behold and the graneries are full.

Well, that is how it is supposed to work.  But this year is different.  I see Black SUV's driving the back roads.  I see no workers in the fields.  I see crops going to seed and not being harvested.  Way to go America!  This will teach Mexico that we mean business!  This will show them! This will teach them to take our jobs!

Sorry folks, not seeing it here.  I do not see any of the locals out there bent over picking me a carrot.  Not happening.  I do think a few of the locals may have went out to make some of that "easy money" but they aren't going back.  It is sad that the system that has worked for so many years for both farmers and workers is no longer happening. 

I hear the arguments that by taking down statues we are rewriting history.  I do not see it that way.  As far as I am concerned, the rebel flag waving off some rednecks truck is a flagrant reminder that we had to fight a war with our neighbors to free human beings from the yoke of slavery.  Ever study how this came about in the first place?  In nutshell, a bunch of rich men needed workers and needed them cheap, so they went to Africa to capture black people that were not doing anything anyway to come and live over here and work for room and board.  Far be it from their little pea brains to think perhaps that property they now owned had a mother, father, siblings, wife, husband, children or anything that mattered.  Not a pretty sight and I am pretty sure that they do not need to see a bunch of statues, flags or anything else to remind them.  Much like a statue of Hitler in the town square is not something any of us intelligent people need to remember the Holocaust.

Does anyone remember back when Vietnam was happening and we had all those refugees?  Different

nationality, same reception.  America has always been a melting pot, so to speak, but we tend to forget that our ancestors were the first to be integrated in this land!  The people that were here when we landed on Plymouth Rock are the only ones that really belong here.  Call them Native Americans, Indigenous people, Redskins, or Indians they are the real owners of this land.  Sadly they made one mistake.  They took pity on the pious immigrants who came here on the Mayflower to make a new life.  They fed them.  They helped them survive the elements of a brutal winter in a strange land.  Then they were killed by them.  Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!

America, the land of the free and the home of the brave.  Sometimes I am just not as proud of America as I should be, but then I remember!  I can only control the thoughts and actions of one person and that is me!  So I shall take my optimistic little self and keep waving my banner and hearing the chants that have been echoing down through the years. 

"Remember Stonewall!"  "Hell no! We won't go!"  "Black or White, all is right!"  And all the ones I have forgotten. 

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE

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.