Happy Birth Day to Samuel Rueben Seeger!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

And so it begins.

Happy Birthday to me, yesterday.  Just about everybody else my age is dead.  Gives me a lot to look forward to, doesn't it?  Those of you who follow my blog have probably figured out that I have a small problem with depression.  Not many people in my everyday world have figured that out.  This week marks my birthday, my only surviving brother in law's birthday, my son's birthday and ends on the 5th with my brother's birthday.  My brother has been gone 54 years.  I still remember it like it was yesterday.  It never gets better.

I remember the day I married my first husband (October 30)  and my last husband (December 23).  I remember the date the last husband passed but not the first one.  I have a mental block about a lot of things and that is probably the only thing that actually saves my sanity.  I just know I hate the whole month of October.  Unlike a lot of people, I tend to grieve inwardly so nobody knows.  I may be talking to you about the most mundane thing in the world and I am smiling, but I am seeing Jake standing in front of me with his lopsided grin and the scar on his right cheek.  I am hearing Hank Williams wailing in the background.  WSM from Nashville every Saturday night. It never goes away.

I realize blogs like this make my kids sad, because I am sad, but what they need to remember is this is my past.  I was not always their mother.  I have to deal with this on a daily basis.  I do not want sympathy, I just want understanding.  I will be alright.  Where there is life there is hope.  I do not need to go out and eat.  I do not need flowers, I just need my time.  This will pass.  It always does.

This month, I am undertaking a new kind of volunteer work.  It is not like Hospice where every client ends up dying.  It is one that involves dealing with people who are actually trying to get off the streets and into a home of their own.  I am not sure where this path will lead me, but I am going to go slow and find out.  Usually I jump in with both feet and tilt at windmills, but not this time.  Someone will lead and I will follow.

So, as I deal with my demons this month, be patient with me.  I have a theory that God is not through shaping me yet and I am sure of one thing:  God knows what he is doing and he is going to bring me out on the other side a lot better person than I was before.

He has a way of doing that, you know!

It is time to talk about that damn cell phone.

"And God saw the earth, that it was good.  And he created man...." and had it stopped there, we could have all lived happily ever after, but he did not.  He gave us a brain and free will.  And the cell phone!  And he did it pretty much in that order.

I remember back before Strong Street in Nickerson, we lived in a little 4 room house on a road with no name in the Ailmore house.  It was a little square house with a combination living/dining room, kitchen, and 2 bedrooms.  Dad always had his own room and us kids slept like little sardines in iron frame beds with cotton stuffed mattresses and covered up with wool blankets.  It was during World War II I am thinking.  The floors were wooden planks.  No linoleum for us.  I went out the back door and into the pump house to take turns with Jake pumping water for the old cow who gave us milk.  The outhouse was off to the left of that.  I am not sure it had a door, but that is not relevant to this story.  I am hear to tell you about the Lord inventing cell phones and how it has changed my life.

We had a wooden box phone on the wall and I wished to hell I had it today.  I could sell it and retire.  The point here is if some one wanted to talk to us they picked up the receiver and Mrs. Humphrey (and that was her name) said "Number please."  You told her the number and she plugged your cord into the number you wanted.  Lines were crackly, but you were connected.  Over the years this has changed and we now poke in the number we want and the connection is made.  Not  good enough.

We now have "cell phones".  These things have evolved until every one is now connected with a "smart phone."  We can call any where to any where else on our smart phones.  We can speak into the belly of the smart phone and send a text message.  Or make a reservation on a plane to nowhere.  Or set an alarm to wake us up in 7 minutes.  Or watch a movie.  Or listen to music.  Get direction to some obscure place.  Well, maybe you can.  Me, not so much!

I can find the button to turn mine on.  I have yet to find the button to turn it off.  Or the volume key, so I can hear it ring.  I can see a tiny little thing flashing and some one said, "Oh, you have a message."  Well that message shall die with the phone.  I can not see the tiny little icons well enough to decipher what they are without my glasses and by the time I find my glasses the screen has safely hidden itself and  God only knows where.  When it rings, I think it is my stomach growling because I can not hear it.  Well, unless I am in church or some place quiet and then that sucker can make a sound like a tug boat in a foggy bay.

My house phone has now been relegated to the humble job of finding the damn cell phone so I can put it in my purse where in can flash and carry one like a new puppy in a field of daisies.  I call it and if it is turned on and I can actually hear it ring I can then see the message "8 missed calls."  With luck I can find the "missed call list" and find out the 8 calls were me looking for the damn phone.  You know I would throw the damn thing in the river if I thought it would stay there, but it has a life of it's own.

And now it is almost 5 o'clock in the morning and I just realized I do not know where that evil little piece of plastic is located.  I like to think I don't care, but what if I missed a call?  What if someone wanted to actually talk to me?  What if someone needed ME! So, I am going to go see if I can find it and turn it off.  That is assuming I know how to do that and that it will let me!

Have a good day!

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: It is time to talk about ghosts.

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: It is time to talk about ghosts.: I have been kicking dirt around this planet for over 7 decades now (assuming a decade is 10 years.)  I have seen many things and been many ...

It is time to talk about ghosts.

I have been kicking dirt around this planet for over 7 decades now (assuming a decade is 10 years.)  I have seen many things and been many places, and not all of them made a lot of sense; ghosts being one of those.  I am here to tell you about my encounters.

When Earl D and I were first married he was a fly by night tree trimmer and we traveled Kansas.  He gave an honest day's work for honest pay, but we moved around a lot.  My first ghost encounter occurred out side of Burlingame ( I think) near Topeka.  We stayed in a motel located on the Marais des Cygnes River.  While he and his brothers were working I liked to go fish off the bank which was very near the motel.  That was some good cat fishing I am hear to tell you.  We had an electric skillet and could cook in our room, so it was all good.

It must have been the second week we were there he did not make it home from the bar, which was located about 100 feet from our room.  I decided to go to bed.  I woke up about an hour later to a cold hand gripping my throat.  This scared hell out of me.  I threw the covers back and slid to the edge of the bed.  I could not make my legs work.  I flipped the light switch and nothing happened.  But that cold hand still gripped my neck.  I can relive that encounter over in my mind and at no point does it ever make sense.  The whole encounter lasted only a few moments, but when Duane walked through the door it abruptly ended.  I was so white and shaken it scared even him.  We left there soon after because I was afraid to stay alone.  What ever I encountered that night was pure evil.  It was cold and I was afraid.

That was my first and only ghost encounter until now.  A couple weeks ago, my grandson asked who had the code to the house.  You and me!  He then told me that he had come home earlier that day and some one was in here.  What did they look like?  He never actually seen them, but he knew he was not alone and they left right away.  (Strains of Close Encounters ran through my mind.)  Fast forward to Saturday night.

Mike had told me he would not be home Friday or Saturday.  Saturday night at 12:10 I heard the front door open and and close.  Footsteps sounded on the stairs and I decided he must have changed his mind.  It sounded like 2 people instead of just one.  That was strange.  The next morning I got up and Mike's car was not out front.  That was strange.  I then figured he must of came home and picked something up.  About 8:00 the front door opened and Mike came in.  No, he had not been home since Thursday.  No, he did not come in last night and leave.

It was then that he reminded me of his encounter with nothing a couple weeks ago.  He thought I might have been asleep and dreamed it, but I knew what time it had happened because I had just made my nightly potty break and I was awake.

So this is where we now stand.  I am not living here alone.  The presence seems to be a friendly one, which is good.  Someone at church suggested I have someone come and "smudge my house."  Not going to do that either.  If it was that ghost I encountered in Northeast Kansas, I would probably burn the house down, because that one felt evil.  This one does not.  Maybe it is someone who just wants to be sure I am alright.

So I am going to do nothing.  I just wondered if any of you have had this sort of experience?  If you have, message me on facebook so we can talk.

Sock hop, Convention Hall, Hutchinson, Kansas , 1957

Back in 1957, a boy walked up to me and asked me "What is your front name? "  I thought that was strange, but I told him "Louella ".  His front name was "Corky."

Oh, to return to that year!  I was 16 years old.  American Bandstand was the goal of everyone of us little teeny boppers back then.  The most important item of attire back then was a clean pair of bobbi sox, a full skirt and crinoline petticoats.  My dancing partner was Corky Dipman and we won every time we danced.  I loved Corky with my whole heart and had I died in my 16th year, I would have left behind the perfect world.  The highlight of that summer was when Corky took me to Wichita to Joyland amusement park.  The fact that we rode so many rides that I ended up barfing from the top of the Roundup, was not enough to dim the memory of that day.  The fact that we skipped school to go and were the only ones there made it even more wonderful.

I went back to Wichita many years later and found Joyland abandoned and rusting.  The carousel  horses were gone from the Merry Go Round,  and the tracks for the Roller Coaster were rusted and twisted.  Tumble weeds grew where our feet had walked.  I could still hear the laughter and see Corky smile.  Ah, the days of sand and shovels!

I think he was my first boyfriend and I do not know why we broke up.  I think he actually started going with a girl who had more to offer then flying feet.  I think I may have become interested in home brew that my new friend LaVeta had to offer.  And she knew lots of boys from Sterling, Kansas and they were not jocks.  I never much liked the sports scene and the boys with the letter jackets even back then.  I did like the home brew and the cigarettes, though.

Shorthand was my favorite subject in school.  I envisioned myself being a secretary and I loved the shorthand tablets.  What I liked best was the size and that the back cardboard cover had all the shorthand symbols printed for me just in case I forgot.  I still have that kind of tablet for notes, but they no longer contain the shorthand symbols and that is kind of sad.  I never did master the typewriter.  One girl in class could actually type over 90 (?) wpm.  That means "words per minute."  I think 24 was the best I could do.  Sadly, to be a secretary in any place that mattered, one had to be proficient in both typing and shorthand.  Alas!

Sadly, school held little fascination for me and I envisioned a life full of rainbows and butterflies.  Well, you see how that turned out, don't you?  I started my restaurant career with my hands buried in a sink full of dirty dishes.  I dreamed then of being a waitress.  When I moved up the chain to waitress, I dreamed of being the cook.  I finally became the cook.  And the baker and cake decorator. Now I am a seamstress!  Go figure!

But, as I look back on my life, it was good.  It was all good.  Even the bad parts were good.  My name went from Louella Beth to Lou Mercer.

My oldest daughter always said "What don't kill you, will make you strong."  Lot of wisdom in that girl.  Maybe I never made it to American Bandstand with Dick Clark, but I made it this far in life and that right there is about the best I can hope for.  I figure American Bandstand made it a lot of years without me for a reason.

I think God had other plans for this little girl.  Not real sure what they were, but here's hoping I did whatever I was put here to do.  If not, I hope I get it done pretty damn quick!