The patience of Job!

Those of you who know me also know that I tend to be a tad bit of a know it all and have a bit of an abrasive personality.  I am a fairly intelligent woman and I want to win.  I keep track of my score on Jeopardy! right up to the moment I fall asleep.  I love to play Scrabble and therein is the source of this blog.

My friend, Anthony was almost my polar opposite.  He was quiet and also very intelligent.  Our favorite thing was playing Scrabble with friends.  I found a game on Amazon called Boggle which could be played alone or as competition.  We made our own rules.  Boggle consists of 16 cubes with letters on all four sides.  We flipped it out on the table and then each one of us took turns making a word and fitting in into a grid with the words made before.  We could only use the letters that were showing on top.  Sort of like a crossword puzzle when it was finished.  The last one to make a word won.  Simple and fun.

Anthony always set quietly while I found my word and played.  He was the most patient man I have ever known.  The last Sunday is the one I remember.  We played; he won.  We played; I won.  On the last game it was his turn and I could see a very obvious word.  I could barely contain myself as I watched him searching the letters. I knew if he seen it, the game would be over.  He looked up at me in my agitated state and said very quietly, "It is my turn."  Yes it was and I watched as he chose the word and beat me!  But that was my Anthony!  

He never gloated over a victory and neither did I.  We were two very good friends enjoying a competition.  I respected his mind as he respected mine.  I find that very rare in a man, but usually it is a sign that he is comfortable in his own skin.  I liked that about him.

He was patient with me.  He was always kind.  Sometimes he was opinionated when we were talking about life, but always he listened.  He did not want anyone to take advantage of me and was quick to point out to me, if he thought that was happening.  While he never met my whole family, he knew who they were.  He loved his family, but sometimes he was sad and missed the ones who were no longer here.  I understood that.

My life has two parts now; before Anthony and after Anthony.  The pain of losing him gets easier every day, but not really.  There is a hole in my heart that can never be filled.  And I would not want it to change.  I will always see those beautiful brown eyes looking at me and hear his soft voice saying 

"It is my turn."  

The dash to the outhouse!

 I am up in the morning anywhere from 3:30 AM  to 5:00.  If I lay there any longer my aches and pains seem to kick in to remind me of my age.  This was all well and good back when I lived alone in my one bathroom house, but now I have a son who lives with me and he leaves for work at 5:30.  This means he sneaks very quietly up the stairs and into the bathroom and I do not hear him.  So when I open my bedroom door and see the light under the bathroom door, I know I missed my golden opportunity and I will now be doing the little dance that does no good what so ever, but seems necessary.

So this leads me to the moonlight trail to the outhouse back at 709 North Strong Street , Nickerson, Kansas,  seventy years ago.  While it was still light we all had to go visit the outhouse.  Hopefully that would be the last trip for the night.  Now, in the event we actually had to go in the middle of the night, we were allowed to make concessions.  One of these was if we only needed to go as far as the horse tank if we only had to do #1.  There was a "chamber pot" located behind the wood stove for the little kids to use and Dad.  I do not ever remember being an actual "little kid."  I am sure that after we left the Stroh place Jake, Josephine, myself were all big kids.  Dorothy was a tiny baby and Mary was 2 years old.  That would have meant Donna was 4.  Since they were little they went to Ora Ayres to be babysat while I was in school  She charged 50 cents  a week.    

I remember her kitchen well.  It had  very big wood cookstove that took up the whole kitchen.  I need to interject here that  when her and Jerry(?) were first married they were in a car wreck and Ora had suffered some brain damage.  She was still a functioning adult, but her reasoning skills were rather limited.  She could babysit and she could cook.  We grew up eating chocolate cakes that she baked every day and were used as a substitute for bread.  Now her cakes were a strange green color, but mother said it was because she skimped on the chocolate or used an inferior brand.  But that is neither here nor there and has no bearing whatso ever on anything and I do not know why it stuck in my mind. 

Jerry was an avid gardener and when he harvested his crops were kept in his bedroom.  His harvest seem to consist of mostly peanuts which were boiled and eaten that way.  Gross.  Never understood that, but it really was not any of my business.  The back yard had a grainery and that was where the chickens lived.  The "out house" was located in one corner of a row of ramshackle sheds strung together that surrounded the grainery.  It was a hole in the ground with a wash tub with a hole cut in it and turned upside down.  That was one place no one wanted to go and I never had nerve enough to perch on that with my pants down!  It was breeding grounds (in my mind) to a new breed of giant, poison spiders.

Some times mother sent us big kids to bring the little kids home.  That was always a treat because Ora would give us a piece of the green cake and we actually liked it as long as we did not know the difference.  Entertainment at her house consisted of blocks of wood which were used as cars to travel on the dirt roads we drew on the dirt yard.  

As I write this, I realize that this was our "normal".  If I gave one of my grandkids a piece of wood and told them to go pretend it was a car they would think I had lost my mind!  I can get Jiraiya to walk across a field with me to check on crawdads in the ditch, but a block of wood is just a block of wood to him.  He likes to fill the feeder for the geese, but then the computer games are his weapon of choice.

I miss my life on Strong Street and I can not imagine why I ever wanted to leave, but I did.  My idea of heaven is not a street paved in gold, but the sandy soil of Strong Street and the mud that dried in the puddles and waited for the sun to bake it so we could walk barefoot and feel it crunch beneath our feet.

  That and a piece of green cake will get me a seat at the throne of God any day!

Mama always said....

It is without fail that I wake up every morning to my mother's voice in my ear reminding me of something she thinks I might have forgotten.  Today it is the one about "If you can reach the end of your life and count all your friends on one hand, you are blessed."  Once more, I can see the wisdom of her words.  She defines a true friend as someone who carries you in their heart.  Someone who knows your deepest secrets and will take that secret to their grave.  It is someone one that you can call after months or years of absence and both of you are happy for the call.  Someone who knows the good and bad about you and accepts it as normal.

And this morning I counted. There is one in Kansas.  One in Missouri.  Those 2 go back to the Red Carpet so they are my oldest friends.  Now that Renate is back in my life, I realize that makes 3.  John Tenorio was #4, but he passed two years ago and has not been replaced.  His brother has pretty much filled that vacancy because I can bitch and moan to him and tell him my thoughts without him thinking ill of me.  Number 5 is solid.  I met him when I first came to Colorado and we have remained friends for all these years.  Now let me tell you about this friend.

I do not talk to him very often, but we both know we are just a phone call away.  And I know I can count on him to understand.  He was one of my first phone calls when I lost Kenny.  He called when his dad died and again when his mom passed.  Our first conversation in several years occurred about my Anthony two weeks ago.  He kept jumping ahead in the conversation with "Did you get married again?"  "Are you going to get married?" When he heard the outcome of the story, he was devastated as I knew he would be.  He lives in a pollyanna world where good things happen to good people.  That is not so in the real world.  The real world hands you happiness and just when you think it is alright, you learn it is not.  And that is why we need friends.

So, momma, if you are up there, and I am sure you are you need to know that the scrawny little brown haired girl you raised to be a full grown woman actually listened to you.  I do very little in this life that is not influenced by things you taught me when you thought I was not listening.  Your picture is the last thing I see when I leave my house.  There is another by my bed on the stand where the Bible should be.  I remember to cherish my friends. I do not lie, steal or cheat.  I try to treat everyone fairly.  I do not let my left hand know what my right hand gives away.  I love my fellow man.

I try really hard, but some days life just sucks.

Renate, my friend the artist!

This is a picture that Renate painted for me.  It is beautiful, but sadly the overhead lights are reflected in the glass.  (Nobody ever accused me of being a photographer.)  But just look at this picture.  It is beautiful.  I never knew her to paint.  When we were kicking around we were both into writing.  Apparently she got a wild hair at some time and tried her hand at painting.  Now, while I am not schooled in the fine art of painting, this appeals to me and makes me feel that I am right there  on the lake and it even makes me feel a little cold.  She has a desire to paint pictures and sell them, which I am thinking she should be able to do.  Maybe some day I will be able to introduce her to my friends as  "Renate Tursi, the accomplished artist who lives in that great big house on the hill that she paid for with her paintings money".

I have never had an artistic bone in my body and my talents are mostly the written word, but some times I like to cook and bake new things.  Today I made pecan bars and that was a mistake.  See, there is no one here but me and this was a pan 13" x 9" and the bars are about 1 inch tall.  So I called Ross over and he ate one and took 2 home, but that still leaves a lot in the pan.  Bret should wander in later, but he is not a big sweet eater and these things are very sweet.

  

Well, let me tell you something about baking.  It is rather hard to bake anything that is not loaded with calories.  First you have the flour, then the sugar, and the butter and then the good Lord deems that it must all be held down with frosting, which is just a different kind of sugar.  I can make noodles, but there again, starch, starch, starch.  

And now guess what?  I am sleepy so I guess I will call this finished and head off to bed.  I know there is no lesson learned today and I have not touched your soul, but just know that sometimes I just need to type something that means nothing and teaches no lessons.  Mostly I guess, I just wanted you to see the picture Renate painted for me and to know that is is so nice to have my friend back in my life even under the worst of circumstances. We are not the same people we were  10 years ago, but we have a history and that history will work to make us better people.

Good night, Renate!  Tell the dogs I am coming soon!

 

Time just keeps right on marching.

 Funny, I thought the world had stopped, but it has not.  It has been 2 weeks today since my life was altered by circumstances far beyond my control, and yet so close to my grasp.  When I say life is funny, I do not mean it in the literal sense.  It is funny in the way that we really think we matter and that we have any control at all over the events that transpire and pull us into a web that is intricately woven by some unseen hand.  The house I used to enjoy going to on Sunday after church is empty and a realtor placed a sign in front of it.  I will not drive by to see if anyone lives there, nor to see if the broken limb has fallen to the street below.

When I pass by the reservoir, I will remember the afternoon we went hiking and I will smile.  When I   drive  down Pueblo Boulevard past Minnequa Lake, I will remember the 3 of us trying to get a small kite into the air and  I will smile. When I go to Sam's club I will remember that he used to buy me a juice called Naked because it had no additives. 

"Hey, Lou!  I got you Naked!"  " Oh, Anthony, I sure hope that is in  a bottle".

Little things that meant nothing now mean so much.  It is almost 6:32, the time my phone pinged that I had a message; the last message I would ever receive from that number.

Yes, life goes on whether we want it to or not.  God is still in his heaven and I still trust him with my life.  I do not know his plan, but I am sure he has one.  Nothing is random and God will never give me more than I can carry.  This I know is true.  And there is one more thing I know that I tend to forget and that is this:  "God never closes a door without opening a window."

Right now I do not know where the window is, but I am sure I will find it and it will lead to peace.  That is how my God rolls!

OMG! It's a YAK!!!

 I can never think of my friend Renate without those words popping into my head.  There are words that could manifest there, such as friend, kind, compassionate, funny, dependable and even sucker, but Yak is the one that is in the fore front of my mind.  And "Yak" is followed by gales of laughter.

Renate is coming today.  I wrote about our reconnecting yesterday or the day before.  I have lost all track of time when it comes to days of the week and I consider it a major accomplishment to know that today is December 4 and it is Friday.  To be honest somebody told me.  My youngest son lives with me and he reminded me that today is Friday and Renate is coming.  And I told him the Yak story before he left for work and he gave me the "poor delusional momma" look as he left.  But I was victorious because I now knew for sure what day it was and that Renate was coming today.  I think it has been close to 10 years since I seen her.

My last memory of her was a trip up to Beulah with her dad and step mom.  Renate and I were in the front seat and she was driving.  Dale Tursi and his wife Val  were in the back seat enjoying the scenery.  We were talking about meaningless things that had transpired the previous week.  We were on our way to Beulah where we planned a drive through the mountains and stopping some where to partake of what ever was in the picnic basket she had packed.  

Since the scenery rarely changes we were just talking and not really paying attention when suddenly about halfway up the drive we both caught sight of animals in a field where cattle belonged.  The cattle had always been there and now we both stared in amazement at 8 or 9 black very strange looking animals which could have been cattle had they not had long hair.  

The words that came out of both our mouths at the same exact time were "What the hell!?  YAKS!!!  Those are Yaks!"  It was so ludicrous that we then dissolved into gales of laughter.  Renate parked and Dale and Val were in a state of confusion.  

Renate pointed at the Yaks and explained.  "Look!  (pause)  Yaks!  I thought they could only live in cold climates!"

I am not sure why, but they were not nearly as amazed as Renate and I by the sight.  They sort of looked at us and shook there heads.  We then continued our day, but I am willing to bet that when Renate reads this she is going to be taken back to that day and she and I are going to have a very good laugh.  

Some things can only be remembered by the people who were there and while I have since learned Yaks can live in Colorado, I have never seen one.  

Renate is my friend.  My mother once told me these words "If you can reach the end of your life and count your true friends on one hand, you are blessed."  And as I set here, I think of many people who have been my friend over the years.  God has blessed me with many friends through the years, but when I follow her criteria, I see she is right.  

On one hand I can count 5 friends.  Only 5 that I consider true friends.  A true friend is one that keeps my confidences.  One who knows my deepest secrets, but never finds a need to discuss them.  Renate is one of them.

So lunch today and who knows what tomorrow may bring.  Life gives us little twists and turns, but always seems to lead us where we need to be.  I am looking to have a beautiful reunion with my friend and hopefully in this drab world we are currently in we can find a little laughter, God willing.

When God closes a door, he opens a window.

 I have always known this to be true although I also tend to forget it a lot.  I need to lay the back drop for this story first.  30 years ago I began working with AIDS patients as a care giver and personal companion.  The epidemic was in full swing back then and a lot of people were worried about "catching it", so people who did my line of work were in great demand.  But this is about a friendship forged in the midst of sickness and dying buffered by an underlying hope for a cure.  Sadly there was not a miracle cure discovered, but there was medicine discovered that could suppress the virus and allow people to live fairly normal lives, but that is history and this blog is about a friendship.

While I worked in the field with the clients, my friend was a case manager.  She dealt with them in their medical care and financial needs.  I helped them with house work, laundry, cooking, shopping, banking and that sort of stuff.  I also tried to give them avenues of entertainment including walks in the park, picnics and  and stuff like that.  Since there was a stigma connected to them at the time my job description changed almost daily.  I was whatever I needed to be at any given time for any reason.  And always in the background was Renate.  What did I need?  How could she help?  Always a phone call away.

In our line of work at that time there were frequent deaths.  It was a scary time for us as well as the clients.  Science was working overtime to conquer this plague and all we could do was try to help where and when we could. We started social events to try to have some sort of normalcy.  We started World AIDS  Day and made an AIDS Quilt.  We were marking time and eventually it paid off.  The community learned that AIDS was a manageable medical condition and it was spread by love.  Safe sex became our mantra, and now many years later, it has paid off and we can teach safe sex.

  I eventually left the client base because they did not need me any more.  I went to volunteer at hospice and Renate retired to live her idyllic life with the man she loved. Renate and I drifted apart after she retired.   But life is cruel. I knew she moved to Fowler and now had a life partner, but that was all I knew.  And now all these years later, the circle has reconnected and we have made contact again.  Her life has changed and mine has changed.  She is a widow and I just lost my Anthony.  She will be here tomorrow!  She thinks she can still find my house, but we will see.  The neighborhood has changed and time has passed.  We will see.

So, today I am going to make cookies or cinnamon rolls for my friend.  It seems strange to say the word "friend" in connection with some one I have not seen in many years, but some bonds are never broken and when people fight for a cause that is right and just, they remain friends forever.  

It will be nice to see her and  I am going to hug her so tight she can not get loose!  And we will cry over Jim and Anthony, and laugh over Mark and Allen and all the clients of long ago.  And when she leaves we will make a vow to never be seperated like this again and maybe this time it will work.  I just know this, the Lord works in wonderous ways, his miracles to perform.

Peace.