Freezing weather, candlelight, and the barn?

A mind is a terrible thing to waste, I hear.  I spend a lot of time trying to figure mine out, but I have decided it is best to just go with what pops into it from time to time.  Take last night, for instance.  I heard about a candlelight vigil at the River walk in honor of the policeman and 2 civilians who died in the fiasco at Planned Parenthood in Colorado Springs.  It was advertised as unsponsored which told me it was a gathering of the community.  As it turned out, it was a photo op for a church that shall remain nameless, but that is all beside the point.  It seemed like a worthy endeavor, so I bundled up with 2 of everything on my frail little body and away I went!

Of course I went early since that is what I do.  My friend Janet showed up and we lit our candles, sung hymns, said a prayer or two.  Since all the cameras were finished rolling the leaders decided not to walk to the police station so we were dismissed.  Janet and I made a stop at Coyote Jack's store on Union where he made us a cup of hot cocoa.  (You will be hearing more about him in a later blog.)  I dropped her at her car and headed home.

I decided to take South Road even if it was icy and deserted and wild animals hang out there and jump in front of the car.  I just like to avoid traffic when I can and South Road was surreal with a soft snow falling.  For some reason, my mind wandered back to the barn on the Stroh place where we lived when I was probably 6 or 7 years old.  As I recall you came up the driveway to the house.  There was a detached garage to the right side where the kitchen was located.  Further to the right was a granary and a chicken house.  And closing the circle going back to the drive was the barn with a long low loafing shed(?).  I think that is what it is called.  But the barn was prominent.

Bear in mind that this memory is 68 years ago and much has been through this old brain, but as I recall I stepped into the barn through an oversized door that barns have.  On my right was a big wooden barrel.  Inside it was grain.  Directly in front of me was a stall for a cow to stand and her head was placed between two boards to hold her in place for milking. This was called a stanchion.   A pitch fork full of hay was put in the manger and she could eat while she was being milked.  Now milking was an art in itself.  The milking stool was a board with 1 leg.  The "milker"sat balanced on that while milking.  Now let me see if I remember that process!

First you placed the bucket under the udder.  Then you got yourself balance of the "stool".  Then you grasped a teat with thumb and forefinger where it protruded from the udder and  applied pressure as you "stripped" down to the end of the teat.  I know this is not sounding like anything is going to happen, but it does.  I am probably not your best source of "how to milk a cow not using a machine", but it does work and the milk squirts into the bucket, except some where in the process (and do not miss a beat or the cow will "hold her milk") you need to aim at the cat dish and fill it up because they are hungry.  Barn cats are profuse in a barn and necessary to keep the mice thinned out so they do not get in the grain.  Barn cats are that only.  They are not for petting or holding.  Most of them would just as soon rip your face off as look at you and you learn to respect their territory.  Come in, milk the cow, fill their dish and leave.   I think these are known as feral cats today.  And ever so often a disease goes through the colony and they all die, but be patient and more will magically appear.

There were several stalls for milking, but as I recall we only used the one and only had one milk cow at a time.  There was a hayloft up above that we were not supposed to go into because we might fall and break our neck, which, according to folk lore, happened a lot.  There were rooms in the back where the other cows (and God only knows what purpose they served) and the one horse could hang out when a blizzard was coming.  And in the spring we had to walk the fields and pull up poison weeds and burn them. 

The low part of the barn was used for whatever it needed to be used for at the time.  As I recall mother had geese and as I recall they were damned mean!  If I strayed (and I did once) into their domain the big gander would attack me and I had to be saved.  This is strange because I have 9 geese out back that love me.  They have never attacked me and 3 of them let me pet them.  I think that gander was just plain mean for the fun of it.

So this is what I thought about on the way home last night.  If I could live my life in reverse I would go back to that place.  It was where Donna stuck her finger in a turtles mouth and John Britan said it would not let go until the sun went down.  It was where Mary set in the mud puddle and Dorothy was born.  It was my brother in overalls and my sister got her first pair of glasses.  It was the big yellow tomcat eating the baby chick.  It was mother going to "club" and dad coming home drunk.  It was my childhood and my roots.  I want to go back there next summer and see if that house is there.  I want to listen and maybe here the kids at play.  Back to the days when someone took care of me.  When I was cute and loved.  Or at least that is how I remember it.

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.

Wouldn't it be nice if it was this easy?

I believe in Jesus Christ and accepted him as my PERSONAL LORD AND SAVIOR . One Facebooker has challenged all believers to put this on their wall. In The Bible it says, if you deny me in front of your peers, I'll deny you in front my father at the Gates of Heaven. This is simple. If you love God, and you are not afraid to show it re-post. Just copy and paste this.

Found this on facebook.  Well, I actually find one like this on facebook every time I scroll through.  Actually I find several of these daily and I have now come to the conclusion that this is why my church, and many like it, are down in the attendance area.  If I love Jesus all I have to do is copy and paste this, because Jesus has a facebook account and he reads this stuff.  It works much like the letter to Santa.  If I be good and send a letter to Santa and tell him I have been good, he will bring me lots of presents.  I can ask for whatever and I will get it.  I do not even need to have a witness that I have been good, because by simply writing that letter I qualify.

And I know facebook is a venue for God, because so many people post these, but let me tell you a secret.  I have gone to their "friend list" and I can not find Jesus on there!  That troubles me.  If Jesus is not on their friend list, how can they claim him for their friend and better yet, how can they offer me salvation by me just clicking a button?   Since I am such a sceptic in this area, I think I will just skim over those posts.  

I am going to take my chances out in the real world and in my church on Sunday morning.  I like to commune with God when walking up a trail in Beulah, or around Runyon Lake.  I like to visit my friends in Hospice and smile at people in the grocery store.  I like to gather things for Los Pobres, and the Goodwill and sad little people on the corner.  With a little luck God may look down when I am playing with a puppy and say,  "Hey, she looks like she would make a good addition to my kingdom!"  

Sure hoping so any way.  So you go ahead and try it your way, but please do not try to make be beleive  that I have to share your post or I am going to hell.

Rest in Peace always.

Delbert Leroy Bartholomew

(Jake)

October 5, 1937-October 31, 1965

Frozen forever in time.

He taught me to love conutry music.

He taught me to fish.

He taught me patience.

He was my brother.

Brothers never die.

Saurkraut time? Oh, yeah!

Fall is in the air and I kicked the furnace on last night.  This morning I am setting here freezing with shoes, flannel pajamas, and a sweater.  Course a hot cup of coffee rounds out the picture.  I used to have a cigarette and an ashtray, but those days are long gone.  So what am I planning for today?  Going to be a busy one!

First I am off to breakfast with Kay and Frank who are getting ready to leave soon for the balmy breezes in Southern Texas.  As soon as breakfast is over I am headed for the produce stand up the road.  I think I am good on green chile's, but I will check that.  My goal for today is to find the good white cabbage and dig the crock out of the tin shed.  Yep!  You guessed it!  It is time to make sauerkraut!  I shall tote my cabbage home and begin the process.

I will wash and scald the 5 gallon crock.  Then I will dig out the mandolin that I inherited from Sherman.   With everything now in place I will begin by cutting each head in 6-8 wedges, depending on the size of the head, and begin the slicing process.  I want the slices uniform and very thin.  I have a big white plastic Tupperware container and when there is about 6 inches of cabbage in it I will sprinkle it with a heaping tablespoon of canning salt.  Next comes the tedious part.  I take my fist and work and mash the salt into the cabbage, bruising it and causing it to release juice.  When I have worked it enough that it starts to be a tad bit soupy (no way to tell you, just got to feel it) I will put it in the crock.

Now, I don't know it you have ever done this, but after a while my knuckles begin to get very tender and by the time the crock is half full I begin to wonder what in the hell I was thinking, so I take a break.  And then I remember what this is all about.  I love sauerkraut!  I do not love the stuff at the store in cans.  I do not love the stuff at the store in the refrigerated part either.  I love sauerkraut that is made with cabbage and salt and covered with a clean cheese cloth that is weighted down with a brick in my basement.

Oh, trust me, in about 2 weeks this big old house is going to stink to high heaven of rotten cabbage.  I will have to check it daily and remove anything that looks like it does not belong there, but in about 2 - 3 months, I will have the best sauerkraut in the world!  It is a lot of work, but worth every minute of it.  My knuckles will heal in due time and by then it will have stopped "working" and it will be time to process it.  This entails bagging it in my "seal a meal" bags and freezing it for future use.

I do not ever remember mother or anyone else making saurekraut, but somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I know what has to be done.  When Bret and Shelley were little I was fixing lunch for them and I made hot dogs.  I asked if they wanted the hotdogs cooked in with the saurkraut.  When Shelley asked what saurekraut was, Bret replied, "It is rotten cabbage."  As I recall that was the end of the discussion, but they did eat it.

Now, those of you who know me, know how many people live in my house and of all those people, only one eats saurekraut and that is me!  I may be considered an eccentric old woman going to all this work, but the way I got it figured is this:  I am only going around once.  Just once.  I am going to dance naked when I feel like it, howl at the moon, and eat what I want, which at this time of year is sauerkraut!  So if you want to smell rotten cabbage, come on over!  If not then don't, but it is Fall here in Pueblo, Colorado and Spring is a long way in the future, so I am going to be a little squirrley and put away my food for the Winter!

The ruler of the roost is now bringing this old lady to her knees!

If you wonder who this is, it is Icarus.  I have had her for 4+ years.  She was named by Sherman and I told him Icarus was the little fellow in Greek (?) Mythology that flew too close to the sun and melted HIS wings, but she was name Icarus nonetheless!  As you can see, she makes herself right at home wherever she is.  It is quite alright with her if I have to set on the hard chair as long as her hairy little self if comfy!

She is very much at ease with the dogs, as you can see!  She likes to go out in the evening when I close the goose house.  She hides behind the trash barrel and leaps out at the dogs when they go past headed for the house.

This is bedtime.  5 kitty treats on the dresser for Icarus and a milkbone for each dog.  Old picture since I still  had carpet, but the routine is still the same. 

Looks like Daisy might have started smoking in this picture.

Elvira is just naturally a lady.

But back to the subject at hand.

Happy Birthday to me!

Well, I survived another year.  But is that good or bad?  Yesterday marked 74 years that I have been riding this big blue ball around.  I know I have good company in the form or Stephen Smalley, my cousin and my friend Mary Lou Abernathy, who I never see, and countless others that slip my mind.  All the kids checked in along with a mailbox full of cards from the dentist, insurance company, and the hearing aid place who recognizes every important moment of my life and assures me they are there to help me hear all the best wishes anytime I am ready to fork over the $4,000!  Ah, life!
I do like to look back at how far I have come from that little shack on the outskirts of Nickerson, Kansas.  That is where a mother and father made a home for 6 little Bartholomew kids.  Now there are 3 of us left.

Here I am on probably the last day that I was purely innocent.  The last day that I was completely helpless and I wonder where that blanket went!  I bet one of the younger kids got it as a handmedown, because back in those days, everything was handed down to the next kid.  Now do you realize that I got the handmedowns from my brother!

Doesn't look like he is wearing dresses, does it?  As a young girl I remember worshipping him my whole life.  We listened to the Grand Ole' Opry from Nashville, Tennesee on a car radio hooked up to a battery out on the porch on Saturday nights.  He is the one who taught me how to bait a hook and catch a fish.  He taught me how to choose the hardest clod of dirt in a plowed field and how to aim so I could hit someone in our clod fights.  He built me stilts which I fell off of and damn near broke my neck!  He dreamed of leaving Nickerson and coming back rich.  When he was 16 years old he forged his birth certificate and joined the Army.  Of course, he got caught and sent back home.

His name was Delbert Leroy Bartholomew, but in the 7th grade he became known as Shakey Jake.  That was later shortened to Jake because he did not shake.  He wore overalls and was befriended by a man in town named Roy Hasten.  Roy was an older man who had no kids and loved to fish.  I can remember him bringing Jake home and they always had catfish laid out in the back.  Some of them were really big, or at least big to my little memory.  When I hear the song "Bimbo" by Hank Williams, I think of Jake.

There is not enough paper in this world to hold all my memories of Jake.  I told you how he got that scar.  He did go away to the Army and he came home from Germany.  He married and had a son, divorced and had another son.  His second son and mine are almost the same age.  My father died in February of 1965 and Jake was killed that October.  My son was 1 month old.

10/5/37-10/31/1965

This was Mother.  I wonder if she remembered that dog?  Seems when we were growing up there was always an old cat hanging around outside, but never a dog.  Not sure I ever wanted one, but I am sure we never had one.  Dad did not like dogs.  I was always afraid of them.  There were always stories of "dogs running in packs on the outskirts of town, so be sure and keep the kids inside."  Never saw them, but like the Gypsy's (who I also never seen), we knew they were there and had to be ever vigilant.   Oh, yeah, and the cougars!  We could hear them scream down on the river and trust me, that scared the living shit right out of us.  Sure made me appreciate a home with doors.  Not that we ever locked them.  Doors had to remain unlocked in case a hobo or some homeless person needed to get in to get a drink of water or a bite to eat.  Times have sure changed.

So now I am rambling again!  I had one birthday party when I was growing up.  It was for my 8th or 9th birthday.  Mother was cleaning houses for my cousin Paralee Morris who was a teacher and was married to a teacher, so they were rich.  Paralee was the daughter of Frank and Helen Wocknitz.  Frank was the one who made Tony's Bologna and took the recipe to his grave.  She let mother make me a little party at her house and gave me a red Cinderella cookie cutter.  Birthday parties are just not a biggie with me.

(You must understand that all this stuff that I remember from 65 years ago may or may not be accurate and may change every time I remember it as well as every time you read it.  So it is best if you just read what I write and enjoy it and not try to make any sense whatsoever out of my poor befuddled mind!)

Enough about the birthday!  Fall is in the air this morning and I want to check the garden.  For some reason I would sure like to have a cigarette this morning, but I am always grateful when I realize that I gave those up.  That was a good change.  And change is what life is all about, isn't it?

Continued from yesterday.

Here is Icarus looking all innocent.  Such a joy to behold.  But think again!

This is where she was just about 10 minutes ago.  This is the cover over my deck and I do not know how she got up there.  Nor do I know why!  Pretty sure there are no mice on top of that thing.

So just walking around looking for lord only knows what.

Oh, hi there mom!  What are you doing down there.  Come on up and let's try to figure out how to get down.  Oh, you could just trot on out to the garage and bring the ladder and then carry me down.

Enjoy me while you can because I am getting ready to go hide in the sunflowers.

Told you so!

Oh, well, one thing nice is if she is hiding or up on the roof she is not batting vernin around the kitchen.  Don't you wish you had a cat like this?  If you have a cat, it probably IS like this!

Meet my REAL honey!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday my friend and I drove to La Junta to buy our tickets for the Amtrak train that would take us to Dallas, Texas next month.  Both of her grandfather's were railroad men back in the day when the rail way was the way to move freight.  The office is only open from 7:30 AM until 10 AM so we were on a mission.  This is the ticket window and the lady in charge was the sweetest little thing and a great help to us.  However we soon found that this was not going to be as easy as it first looked.

The train does not run from here to Dallas.  It runs from La Junta to Kansas City, down to St. Louis and then     down to Fort Worth  area where we could catch a bus on into Dallas.  Oh and this takes 2 days.  There are several 5 hour delays for another train to arrive to take us further on our way.  Now spending 5-6 hours in a train depot is just not on my agenda.  And no where in this scenario did I see any hope of putting this body into a bed  and sleeping the 8 hours I require.  Of course we could take the southern route through southern California and it would add a few hours.  Sadly the lower level has the restrooms and the upper level has the food.  Screwed either way as I see it.  Oh, yeah and then there was the cost of the tickets. $715.00 each.  So $1430.00 and no food included.  Let's just think this over.  Course Nancy is all for hopping on an airplane and arriving in Dallas in no time at all.   Well, it is a thought.  Or we could ride the train to Albuquerque and then rent a car and drive to Dallas.  So we headed home to think on it.

I missed a call outside of Rocky Ford, so I pulled over to return it and up the train track came the train hauling the propeller's for the wind turbines from Pueblo.  Had to get a picture of that.  We are both fascinated by those things. 

 

Well, lookee here, where we stopped!  Since we were right in the parking lot and the sign said "Local Honey.  Come on in!"  We did!

Bet money there is something in here I need!

Look at the size of the honey tank.  I think we figured it holds at least 400 gallons.  Hell, that was yesterday and you know I don't write anything down!  And if I do I do not remember where I put it.  So just go with the 400 gallons like you believe me!

And I was right.  There was stuff there I needed.  Nancy needed stuff also.  Oh, and trust me, this is some damn good honey!  First I had a taste on my finger.  Then I had a taste on a spoon.  Then I had a big taste on a biscuit.  Then another biscuit.  

Nice sign.

Nice flags.

But this is the one I like.  It is a nest from somewhere made by bees and I think they call it a paper wasp nest.  Glad it is empty!

So, we bid farewell to the local honey place on this side of Rocky Ford and  head for home so I can do whatever it is I do.  

Had a lovely day, as always and enjoyed a nice lunch in Fowler before dropping Nancy and heading for the grocery store to seek out Celery Root so I can make some Dill Pickle soup.  Tell you about that one next time!

Jimmy Carter, a man of the people.

I have always felt Jimmy Carter and I had a link since we were both born on October 1, albeit 17 years apart.  Same zodiac and all that, you know.  Libra which is the scales.  According to a site on the Internet  called "getsmarter.com" that I am quoting  "Typical Libras are talkative individuals who value fairness, beauty, culture, diplomacy and balance, states Astrology.com. They're also deep thinkers who like to spend time contemplating harmony and strategizing about things which they feel impassioned."

Jimmy Carter came on the scene while we were still reeling from Richard Nixon, Watergate, Gerald Ford and a financial crisis like never before seen.  Ford had fairly well stabilized the nation, but we were looking for an honest face to put forward and who better than a peanut farmer from Plains, Georgia?  He walked to the White House and we all knew we had a down to earth country boy in power.  One month later he was white headed!  The real world was upon him.  But he tried.  His time in office was one of good will and the only fault they could find with him was that in an interview he had stated that he may have committed adultery "in his heart", because to look at a woman with lust in his heart was to commit adultery in his heart.  We have come a long way since then!

The Carter years were, in my opinion, years of innocence and hope for the future.  As I recall President Carter did not do a lot to change the world during his 4 years, but he was honest and a very religious man.  There was never any doubt that he was a God fearing man.  And when he left office he immediately went into public service.  One of his favorites was Habitat for Humanity.  In that he worked tirelessly.  There are so many things he did that showed God in his life.  I am ill equipped to find words that do justice to this man who has battled cancer for many years and never stopped his hammer.  It is a way of life with him.

There is one man who impressed me with an article he wrote about Jimmy Carter.  His name is Leonard Pitts, Jr. and he writes for the Miami Herald.  He was kind enough to let me share his link with you so you can read what he wrote.  I thank him for that! He is so much better at expressing my feelings than I am!     Click here for Leonard Pitts, Jr. article.

Home on the range.

This is my garage from the backside of the property.  Looks rather peaceful if I do say so myself.

This is Icarus surveying her kingdom  

Her kingdom includes these geese.  They are supposed to be mean, but they do not know it.  I can actually pet most of these.  Only one likes it though.

These are sunflowers behind the garage.  There are very tiny birds that inhabit these and eat something off them.  I think it might be ants since that is all I have seen on them, but I suppose mosquitoes also might be on them. Sunflowers always make me think of Kansas and thinking of  Kansas always makes me a little homesick.  I do not know why because there is no way I could ever go back to the little house on Strong Street.  And if I could, those were days of abject poverty that I would never wish on anyone.  Of course they were part of what made me who I am today, so it is all good.  

I thought I might ought to burn the pile of limbs from the Apricot tree, so I called in and lit the pile.

Whoops, better go take care of that little wound.

 So I finish my morning  having a cup of coffee on the deck.  Life is sure good here on my little acre.  I know sometimes I don't sound like it, but I do love my life.  Gets to be a lot of work sometimes, but isn't that what life is all about?  Put one foot in front of the other and just keep plodding away.

So from my house to yours, and my heart to your heart, keep the faith because God really is good and he does have a plan for us.  It may not look like it at times and it may not feet like it most of the time, but he does have you and me brother, in his hands.

click here to listen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

R-E-S-P-E-C-T spells what?

As I zero in on the end of my journey, I am beginning to get pretty excited about the next mile or so.  I look around at my world and wonder what in the hell happened.  All of my life I have been taught and knew as a fundamental law that my elders were to be respected.  And the elder they were the more respect they were due.  My mother worked all her life to give me life.  I owed her respect for that if for no other reason.  My father did not work, but I still respected him for the simple reason he was my father.  When I was young, that was my world.  I would never have dreamed that the day would come when I would watch young people elbow in ahead of me in a line at the grocery store.  If someone opens a door I am planning to go through I fully expect to walk through it, not be knocked out of the way by some snot nosed kid as he passes me on his way in or out.

Seems like this all pretty well started back in the '60's when Vietnam was in full swing.  It was then that people began to dig into our government and find secrets that were being hidden.  I can remember hearing Vietnam when I was a mother with only 4 kids back in 1965.  How long it lasted is beyond me because when I moved to Colorado in 1973 they were publishing the death count on the news every day.  Jane Fonda was making waves and flags were burning.  The government lost all credibility.  From Richard Nixon and Watergate to  Ted Kennedy and Chappaquiddick our leaders turned out to be mortal men.  Televangelists were not immune either.  Bobby and Tammy Faye Baker and their falling empire led to Jimmy Swaggert and and a host of others.  Seems like every one had a secret to hide.  It has not stopped.  The few honest politicians are few and far between and have given rise to the saying, "You can send an honest man to Washington, but you can't get him back."

Seems like the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.  Honesty does not count for anything any more.  An honest day's work for an honest day's pay is non-existent.  We used to get hand me downs from the people on the other side of town, but now Goodwill, Thrift Shops, Consignment Shops are the norm.  Those and yard sales.  Days of sewing our own clothes are history.  Fabric to sew a garment costs more than going to Walmart and buying  something that was made in Tiawan or China.  That is sad.

The information super highway lets us watch the news as it is happening.  That really came across when we were bombing Baghdad.  The rockets red glare has a whole new meaning.  Schools will soon be obsolete because kids are blessed with a smart phone as soon as they can grasp an object.  Want to know something, just type in your question and the answer will appear.  Is this a good thing?  I don't think so, but no one asked me.

So I am going to work on my bucket list and let the world go by at the speed of light.  I will still respect my elders, though they are getting harder to find as I get older.  Guess I am just getting soured on life as I miss the days when deals were sealed with a hand shake and lawyers were used to write your will.  For now I am going to set on my deck out back and look for the Blue Moon which is supposed to be very bright.  At least the moon is still something I can count on seeing.

Hot days make me remember Momma.

Seems we are enduring another 100 degree day.  I can hear the central air and feel it blowing on my legs.        Makes me wonder what we did back home on Strong Street.  I do not even remember us having a fan.  I can remember going to Bull Creek and wading.  I can remember running down a sandy road to a sand pit somewhere.  I knew how to swim up until the time I was 15 years old and I fell over an underground ledge in Sterling Lake and had to be resuscitated.  No more swimming for me.  I did go to the YWCA and take swimming lessons just long enough to learn how to save myself.  I have never overcome my fear of water, but I have learned how to live with it.  I do not get myself into a situation where I am going to need to do the roll over on my back and float technique.  I just stay out of the water.

So what did my dear mother do to cool off on hot days?  Back in those days she cleaned houses for ladies in town.  She walked to work and then walked home.  Pretty sure she did not stop off at  the sand pit for a dip.  I can recall laying by the window and hoping for a breeze.  That did not happen often.  I remember in 7th grade she had a hysterectomy and she had a bed in the front room.  Seems back then if you were ailing or had an operation you could not recuperate in your bed, but had to be in the front room in case company came.  You never entertained in your bedroom.  It was for sleeping, not visiting.

For those of you who do not know, Kansas and Colorado are different in the way the temperatures fluctuate.  See, here in Colorado, when it starts getting evening and then night, the temperature goes down.  Colorado is not real humid so nights are cool.  In Kansas, the only thing that happens at night is it gets dark.  If it was 90 in the daylight, it is 90 in the dark   And humid!  On a hot day you can climb out of the shower and never know when you got dry.  And that towel you use might as well be tossed in the hamper because it will be sour before it ever air drys.

We cooked on a wood stove so that was added heat.  We did heat the wash water outside in a 3 legged kettle.   When we moved to the big city, that thing was left behind because we were going where there was hot and cold running water and we would never need that again.  Man I wish I had one of those today!  Don't know why, just wish I did.

We did not have dogs growing up.  I know we had a cat because momma had a canary and the cat ate it. A chirping canary can still send me into flashbacks.

I do remember setting on the front porch a lot.  We had two big Catalpa trees out front that shaded the house and gave us something to climb.  The bottom branches were worn smooth from our climbing.  Besides that the beans were what we used for cigarettes when we were playing movie stars.  That and climbing on top of the pig sty's next door and jumping from one to the other was our sole entertainment.  Momma had a fit when she found out we were doing that.  She told us in no uncertain terms that we were probably going to be "et by a hog."  But we weren't.  Would I do that today?  Hell no!  And there was a BlackWidow Spider that lived behind the door of the chicken house.  That could have bit us, too.  We did learn to recognize the web which crackles when you poke it with a stick.  The male is small and the female eats him or feeds him to her babies.  That is creepy.  Oh, and when the Preying Mantis mates, she eats his head.  Learn a lot growing up country.  Glad I never picked up any of those habit.

For now.....

Wouldn't it have been much simpler to educate the populace?

I am so disappointed in our city fathers that all I can do is shake my head in wonder.  Pueblo is now on the cutting edge because we have bicycle paths painted all over our fair city.  We now have bicycles going both ways on a one way street and cars parked in the middle of the same street.  We are accomodating the people who ride bikes, but guess what?  The bicyclists are afraid to ride in those lanes because they can see a disaster waiting to happen.

When I was young I rode my bike every where.  The first thing I learned to do was think of my bike as a car.  I must ride on the ride side of the road, just as if I were a car.  That way if a car came up behind me and wanted to pass me, the driver would adjust the speed so when the left lane was clear he could speed up and pass me.  I stopped at stop signs and yielded the right of way.  I pedaled fast enough to keep up with the flow of traffic and all was well.  I did not ride on the sidewalk.  So now what?

I was going up South Road on my way to town the other day and came around a curve and was face to face with a very old man on a three wheeler.  He was in my lane headed straight for me.  Unfortuneately there was a car in the left lane so I could not dodge him.  My only choice was to stop right there in the middle of the street.  His solution was to wave his fist at me because I was now impeding his forwar progress.  What was I supposed to do?  He was clearly in the wrong place which apparently made him mad at me.  Wouldn't it be nice and wouldn't it make life easier if motorists were actually allowed to use the roads?

The only way to make a right hand turn off Elizabeth and onto 24th is to run over whoever is in the bike lane.  And 5th street is a one way.  It should me a one way for everyone.  I don't remember many bicycles being hit necessitating the need for the bike lanes.  Someone said it is really to make people slow down.  Wouldn't it have been easier to post speed limit signs at a slower speed?  Not enough police to enforce the speed limit?  Last week three policemen showed up at a friend of mines house because animal control said he had too many cats and he would not let her come in to count them.  Priorities may be a little out of whack here.

Education is the key here.  Give motorists a quick course in bicycle etiquitte and give all the bicycle riders a lesson in riding like driving a car.  Should me simple.  If a car hits a bike and the bike is in the wrong, give the rider a ticket.  If the car is in the wrong, give the driver a ticket.  The way it is now, we just confound the whole mess and we never will get it right.  Rules are rules.  We all have them, we just need to obey them.

What a wonderful week it was!

Obamacare, commonly known among those in the know as "The Affordable Care Act,"  stands as is.  After a massacre in Charleston of 9 Blacks in a church, the Rebel flag has been removed from the flagpole at the Capital.  And discrimination for my gay comrades has ended and they are free to marry.  Imagine that!  I took up the banner of gay rights over 30 years ago, so this was a real victory to me.

Of course, with the SCOTUS ruling, comes the "Bible Thumpers."  Relax!  I am one myself.  I tout the Bible to anyone that will listen.  I preach love, understanding, forgiveness, acceptance, kindness, and truth.  But being on social media, there is always an opinion and a lot of links to prove a point.  So it upset me yesterday when a link was posted to "prove by the Bible" that gays can not only not marry, but as near as I can tell, not exist and will burn in hell!  To this I will hit the unfriend button every time.

I have lived and worked along side some of the sweetest people in the world who happen to be gay.  30 years ago, when I took up this banner, I knew there would be no turning back.  And I haven't.  My God made my gay friends just exactly as they are.  My God does not make mistakes.  The Old Testament is full of all kinds of things you can not do.  You can not eat shell fish, nor the cloven hoof, and if your brother dies without leaving any children you have to marry his wife and carry on his seed.  But that is the Old Testament.  All things are now new.

I was a care giver through the height of the AIDS epidemic and still volunteer with Southern Colorado AIDS Project (although it has a different  name now).  I was there when the Privacy Act was being implemented.  I was there to hold frail bodies as they left this world.  I was there when they thought AIDS could be caught by touching.  I was there as a shoulder to lean on or as a whipping post for someone lashing out at mans inhumanity to man.  I was there when the medicines were being introduced that have now changed the death sentence of AIDS to a manageble condition.  And through it all, the one group we could always count on for support of a financial nature or a shoulder to lean on when we were tired was the gay community.

The gay community that was called names because they were different.  Because a woman loved a woman or a man loved a man.  Hated in the name of love!  Does that sound like a Godly person to you?  "Judge not lest ye be the judge."  I am proud to be who I am, a straight woman with a whole lot of gay friends.  I am proud to set beside my gay friend in church because I know if I need something, he will be there!

So today I will go worship my God.  My God who accepts me as I am.  My God who loves all people and I will thank the Surpreme Court Of The United States for being unbiased and showing me that , yes there is justice in this world and right does sometimes win.

A wolf in sheeps clothing is still a wolf!

It is amazing how the adages that I learned at my mother's knee come up in my life 65 years later.  And they are still true.  You know the ones like "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."  When buying a horse you always check in it's mouth, but if someone gave you a horse you did not.  Just be grateful for the gift. If someone gave you something and it was not exactly what you wanted, it was still given and it was free so don't complain.

"A stitch in time saves nine."  That meant if you had a small tear in a seam that if you grabbed the needle and took 1 stitch it would rip no further.  This also applied to many things in life.  If you hoed the garden regularly the weeds would not get ahead of you.  Same with dishes, wash them after every meal and you never ended up with a sink full of dirty dishes.

"You can not make a silk purse out of a pig's ear."  This also applied to many things.  In baking you needed to use good, fresh ingredients.  If you wanted to have a quality garment  you had to use quality fabric.  In dating exercise due diligence and not choose a man/woman that was lazy, dishonest, or a drinker.  You could not make a good marriage with someone who was not what you wanted.  Marriage does not change a person so if a person was a player or lazy, they would remain so.  That also fell under the adage "What you see is what you get."  and "Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it".

Some of grandma's favorites in the dating department were "Where spider web grows, no beau ever goes,"  and "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."  She was a firm believer in the woman marries man, man supports woman, they live happily ever after and die a peaceful death within moments of each other.  Well, granny was a wise woman, but life does not always work out that way.

I have a few personal favorites that I tend to use in every day life, like "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts."  "All that glitters is not gold." and a personal favorite  "Beware of the wolf in sheep's clothing."

Ah, yes!  The pastor gave a sermon on Sunday about David and Goliath.  If you recall that story it was about a Shepard boy who slew the giant.  She told how as a Shepard boy he tended the sheep and had to protect them from the predators.  Mountain lions and bears would attack the sheep and his job was to protect and save them.  Hence he was very strong and very adept in the use of his slingshot and that was how he killed the giant.  But, he had to know that the sheep were in danger.

How many cartoons have we seen where the Shepard is tending the flock and the wily wolf dresses as a sheep and goes to the middle of the herd?  There the picking is easy and the Shepard only knows that sheep are disappearing and he can not find them.  He could feasibly loose the whole flock if this continued!  Kind of like life, huh?

 Remember back over time how people have appeared in our life and we followed them blindly?  Seems we had several evangalists that were wolves in sheep's clothing and we were not alone in our blindness.  The Jim and Tammy Faye Baker come to mind, but they are not the only ones.  Religion is not the only venue of the wovles.  We read of political greats and we watch thier fall.  Newsmen embellish thier stories and then fall from thier pedestal.  Money is embezzeled by charities and the poor suffer.  Famous people draw wealth to themselves, but with fame comes power and with power comes corruption.

Not sure where I was going with this when I sat down at the keyboard this morning, but here I am.  My words of wisdom.  Do I have any?  I guess they would be, "Never let your guard down" ".Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear". " Learn to be a cynic.  Trust no one." But those may be words to live by, but they are not how I will live.  I will go on trusting and beleiving and following that small voice inside me that says, "This person needs you.  This person is different."

The world may be full of wolves in sheeps clothing but the world is also full of goodness and kindness and understanding.  I will continue to bring the sheep into the fold and if a wolf happens to wind up in our midst, we will deal with Wolfie on his level.

"You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself."

Yeah, what she said.

Happy Early Father's Day to my dad, who for years wore the hat of both mom and dad, who bought me tool sets and training bras, taught me how to fish, curse, and say excuse me, who gave me the courage to stand up for what's right, and the compassion to help others. Dad, you raised some kick ass kids! We love you!

Just read this on face book and since the world has seen it I assume it is alright to put it on this blog.  I would hope the girl who wrote it would add a comment here.  It is always wonderful to see the love between a parent and child at any age.  I know this gal's situation and that makes it even more special. I confess it also made me sad.

My mom and dad were separated in age by 20 years.  That may not mean much in this day and age, but back then things were different.  The father's job was to earn the living and the mother was supposed to stay home with the kids.  It did not work that way at our house.  Momma helped with the farming when Dad share cropped.  The 2 littlest kids were carried with her and the rest of us ran wild at home.  Well, technically, Josephine was supposed to watch us and she did.  She watched us play in the mud.  She watched us chase the chickens and torture the cat.  Donna poked her finger at a turtle and she watched us try to save her.  But that was 65 years ago.

My father was a man who lived in our home.  He had no patience for us kids.  He was just there.  I always envied the kids at school who could be seen around town walking with their father.  Or walk past and see the father figure mowing the grass.  A real sand and shovel memory if you get my drift.

It was not so with my father.  I knew none of his relatives although I was named after his mother.  He had 5 children from his first wife.  A son and daughter died as infants from sand pneumonia and 3 sons  were placed in an orphanage when his wife died.  I assume she died. Two of the 3 surviving sons were adopted.  Gene was not.  I have letters he wrote to my father from the orphanage that tear at my heart.  From the letters I learned that my father was never a caring man  to any child he had.  So it was never personal.  Just one of those "It is what it is." things.  Richard served during WWII and came home shell shocked.  Today we call it PTSD.  Earl married and had 3 children.  Gene spent most of his life in prison and finally just disappeared off the face of the earth.  He left a son named Billy who I remember only as a fact, but not a person I ever met.

My father never attended my wedding or acknowledged that there ever was one.  But he surprised me.  When I had my first baby, Debra Louann, he came by the apartment and looked at her.  When he left I found a bib in her crib.  For her 1 year birthday he had my sister Josephine make her a pretty red dress and bought her a pair of red patent leather shoes.  I have a picture somewhere.  I had forgotten all about that until   I started this paragraph!  He died before my second child was born.  I wonder if things had been different if we could have actually been friends?  Maybe....

But I can not think of that tonight.  It makes me too sad.  Life is just so full of missed opportunities.  So full of roads not taken and choices not made.  As I get older I think of all the things I should have done and all the things I should have said and I wonder if the good Lord let me live though all my past just so I could finally get it.  Lizzie, I am so glad you have this time with your father and I envy you so much.

That having been said,

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What were you thinking? What was I thinking? Is the bacon really that good?

Those of you who know me are aware that I am in pretty good shape for the shape I am in and able to do about anything I choose to do.  So this morning I was taken aback to say the very least.  I left home in high spirits and picked Teresa up and headed out for breakfast.  Our chosen venue this morning was a resturant on the Northside.  I like it because it has a very big breakfast menu.  Very good bacon also.  It shall remain nameless because I am not wanting to cast them in a bad light, just wanting to vent.  I will send them a link to this blog so they can assess thier policies.
So we entered and crossed to the Hostess area where we were met by a chipper young girl who is no doubt in training.  She was being supervised by an older lady who appeared to be very capable and imparted this to the  young trainee.  From there it was down hill.  The older lady greeted us and then looking directly in my eyes asked, "Are you capable of walking to the table in the back room or shall I seat you closer?"

"What!? What?!"  was the only response I could come up with at that moment.  I envisioned that perhaps she was going to seat us at a resturant down the block.

" Well, it is a ways to the back of the dining area and I just wondered if you could walk that far because if you can't I can seat you closer."

Now I have often used the term "I damn near had an apoplexy," and in that moment I knew how one would feel.  Until that moment I had never felt old.  I pride myself in my physical condition, and here was someone I had never lain eyes on before insinuating that perhaps I was not capable of walking across the room.

I muttered something about how I could out walk, out run, and out last her any day of the week and her time would be better served helping damn near anyone but me.  At that point I was led away by Teresa and the young trainee.  But it was too late.  The damage was done.  I even tried to tell Teresa that the remarks were maybe meant for  her and not me, but she was not buying that either.  Of course, my initial reaction was that I had misunderstood her.  My second reaction was that I should wrap my fingers around her throat.  As the day wore on and I have reflected on the interchange, I have run the gambit of actions I should take and the answer is none.
  
My first choice had been to report her to her superior because her remarks definitely hurt me.  Was I the only one she had spoken to in this way?  Probably not.  Should she be fired?  She is definitely not an asset to the business.  She probably needs her job and  she may actually think she is being kind in not making people walk far to a table.

I fully intended to quietly tell her that she should be a little more aware of how she talked to people and how she had made me feel, but she was not at the desk when I left.  I do think we can all take a lesson from this and think twice and speak once.  Words that are meant with the best intentions some times do not fall on ears that appreciate them.

So to the lady who ruined what started out to be a beautiful day in June, I have this to say;  I have forgotten what you look like.  I have forgotten the tone of your voice.  And tomorrow I will have forgotten your words.  I do hope you some how find this and recognize yourself and learn a few people skills. Mother always taught us to treat everyone as we wanted to be treated.  Even the Bible tells us to do unto others as we would have them do unto us.

So there you go on my fun day.  Just try to spread a little happiness some where along the way and it will come back to you seven fold, shaken down and poured out.  I will try to remember that.

Time to park the car!

Warm weather is here and school is out and we are headed for disaster.  Back in Nickerson, Kansas we had rules.  Be home before dark and if the street light came on before we made it inside there was hell to pay.  There was no street light on Strong Street, but we could see the one over on the highway.  And we had to wash our feet before we crawled into bed.  And if we woke up in the night and had to use the  "facility"  we had to wake up a sibling. to accompany us.  They did not have to go all the way out there, just stand by the door in case a mountain lion was lurking on the path and grabbed us.  I have no idea what anyone would have done at that point, but at least the family would have some sort of an idea of why we were missing the next morning.  In all fairness here, I had an older sister who was prone to sneak out and meet her boyfriend in the middle of the night and no one knew.  She could have been eaten and that would have been the end of her sneaking out, I am sure.

Speaking of sneaky, another rule was that whoever got in from school first got to turn on the television and set right in front of it.  Course the only thing on was the test pattern.  Actual programing started at 6:00 and ended at 10:00.  Donna was always first through the door, so she would turn on the television, adjust her chair and set there enthralled telling us to be quiet so she could hear the occasional beep.  She also like to get a loaf of bread, if we had one, and open it, remove the crust and eat the soft part out of the loaf.  She did not like crusts.  She should come to my high tea, huh?

We could always find a 55 gallon barrel to roll down the street and we would jump on it and walk on top of it and have more damn fun.  But the best treat of all was to ride a bicycle.  Of course that was a few and far between treat since the only bicycle we had access to was sthe neighbors and access to that was always a little "iffy" for several reasons, the main one being the tires rarely had air in them and mostly we fought with the neighbors. I never actually learned to ride until I was 13 or 14 years old.  I won a bicycle at the local grocery and pushed it all the way home because it was an English racing bike, a boys bike and the tires on it were very skinny and did not stand a chance against the goat heads on Stong Street.

But the rules!  Before we could ride anywhere except up and down the street, we had to go to town and get a tag for the bike.  And we had to know the rules.  Bicycles were the same rules as cars.  Ride on the right side of the road just like a car.  Signal your turns.  Stop at stop signs.  You know the rules.

Well, those rules seem to have gone out the window.  I meet bicyclists coming toward me on the right side of the road.  I am always amazed at what they are thinking.  Where do they think I am going to go?  If they were ahead of me going the same direction I am going, I could adjust my speed and pass them when it was safe, but since they are in my lane coming towards me, I am at a loss as to what to do.  If the left lane is clear, I can dodge them.  If it isn't I am given a choice of hitting them head on or hitting a 2 ton truck head on.  Guess who is going to get plowed into?

And now I see the city is adding bike lanes all over town.  So what rules appy there?  Must they go with the flow of traffic or are they allowed to openly meet us head on?  And what about when they meet each other head on?  Now I see them shooting through traffic and hopping up on the sidewalk.  What about that rule that they can not ride on the side walk or is that just to placate silly old women like me?

So enough of my ramblings for today.  I shall go close up the geese and hope a mountain lion does not get me, or better yet, hope there are no bike lanes in my back yard.

All this rain...

All this rain takes me back to Nickerson, Kansas and the time Dad spent farming with John Britan.  The farm was located across the Arkansas River.  I do not know  East from West so I am not sure which side of the river that is, but it was leave town, cross the bridge and turn left.  As most farm land was back then, it was dry land.  Ah, but through the middle of it there ran a "slough".  For those of you who do not know what a slough is, I will tell you.  A slough is a low place that much resembles a dry ditch most of the year.  When it is rainy season, it looks like a creek.  When it is really rainy for any length of time it looks like a small river.

The wheat was planted on the full acreage was planted to wheat.  Most of the time that worked fine, but if it filled the slough that part of the crop was lost.  Now, Dad would sometimes take Jake and I with him when he went to do the harvest.  Josephine stayed home with the younger kids while Mother drove the truck into town to the elevator.  If it was dry, it was pretty boring, but if the slough was full, we had a blast.  At the time it seemed to me that this raging river was my home.  Once Jake built me a flat raft with a string tied to a matchstick that was poked through a hole.  That way I could hang on to the string and keep it from floating away.

The Kansas sun beat down on us as we played by that wonderful body of water and we could put our feet in it and we were in heaven.  We did not know what hot was and more then once we got a good sunburn.  Mother would doctor us with whatever magic potion she had on hand and by the next day, the sunburn was gone and we were a darker shade of tan.  By the end of summer we looked like a couple Indians.  I do not remember combing my hair, but I am sure I did.

Jake was my hero and sometimes one of the boys from town would come to visit him.  That was never any fun because they would wander off and the beautiful, cool riverwould  turn into a muddy, dirty mess.  Jake always made my life magic.  He instilled in me an ability to see life through different eyes.  He painted pictures of a world far away that was beckoning to him.  From him, I got my love for music.  Oh, not just music, country music.

With the help of a car radio and a good battery he delivered The Grand Old Opry to the front yard of our little house on Strong Street.  He knew all the singers. Faron Young, Little Jimmy Dickens, Hank Williams, Ferlin Husky, Carl and Pearl Butler, and on and on.  I always thought he would some day pick up a guitar and head south.  But he didn't.  When he was 16 years old he forged his birth certificate and went into the Army.  I stayed home and wrote to him.  He was sent to Germany and by the time he returned home, I was not a little girl anymore.

Funny how rain can trigger emotions that I thought were long lost.  I wonder what is going on in Nickerson?  It floods every Spring and I am sure this one is no different.  I am planning a trip back there in August, but it can never be the same.  The house is gone.  The people I knew are gone.  It is just a spot on the map now,  but isn't that how life was planned to be?  And our memories, they never leave.

I still love country music and I listen to Classic Country when I am at home alone.  The radio used to crackle and break up so I could not understand the words.  Now it is clear and while it is the same, it is not the same, but through it all I can hear Jake singing.  I can feel the hot, humid air that is Kansas.  And while this brings tears to my eyes as I think back, it was probably the happiest part of my life.

I miss you, my brother!