I missed the "dirty thirties!"

 Momma, Dad Josephine and Jake were there for the "dirty thirties", but I was but a mere gleam in my Daddy's eye at the time.  I think they were called that because the wind blew and there was no vegetation to hold the soil.  I could be wrong, but I think that, "therefore it is!" And we do all live by what we believe to be true, don't we?

I do know that I used to have a bunch of ration stamps.  I think I sold them on ebay because every time I looked at them, it made me sad.  There is just something about poverty that seems to eat at my very soul.  I am not poor and I am not rich by any means, but I am "secure" and that is what I have clawed and scratched my whole life to attain.  I guess I may fall in the category of the "working poor."   

Poverty seems to have a hold that goes to the bottom of my soul.  I have my house, car, savings and am secure, but I still have little habits that irritate even me.  I have all kinds of things I do to make a few extra dollars.  I am a seamstress and the money I make from that goes into my third bank account which is known as "my third bank account."  That money is designed for things I need and want as opposed to my first bank account which is for my retirement check which supports the house and feeds me.  I also have a savings account with a minimal balance in case the other two dry up.  To say I live from hand to mouth would be a good way to describe it.  But be aware that I do this not because I am dirt poor, but because the memory of when I was dirt poor is ingrained into my very being to the bottom of my soul.  It is an empty part in me that can never be filled.  It is what guides every thing I do from the time I get up until I go to bed at night.

First, I am a hoarder.  My closet is filled with clothes I have never worn and will never wear, but still I keep every stitch.  I went yesterday to buy new panties and bras.  I came home with 3 bras and forgot the panties.  I went through my old bras and did not throw any away.  The new ones are in the back for a "special occasion" and I want to ask you just what in the hell that means?  I can not foresee every wearing them until all the straps and fastners fall off the old ones and can not be stitched back on!  When I put a pair of underwear on and they slide down before I can get my jeans on, out they go.

It does not stop there!  I eat alone most of the time.  I do cook and I try to cook for one, but that does not happen.  I was trained in "institutional cooking", which means every meal is built with an army in mind.  this means that if I cook a pot of beans, I will eat on that pot until it is gone or until it grows a soft, green mold across its top whilst setting in the refrigerator waiting to be "warmed up one more time".

I am looking at plastic tubs in the middle of my front room full of yarn.  I love yarn and am now in the process of crocheting "market bags" since I hear plastic bags are going to be discontinued at the end of the year.  Sadly, most of my yarn is polyester or some such synthetic that for some reason I can not bring myself to use on my "recycle bags."  You do notice that the beginning of this paragraph uses the word "tubs" with an "s"?

It does not stop there.  Every scrap of paper must be used on both sides.  Any container with a lid can be used for storage of something that should have, no doubt, been thrown out long ago.  I have probably 6,000 yards of fabric down stairs that I will use "some day".  When I do make a quilt I go buy "new fabric" just for that purpose.

I have 2 heavy duty mixers and one Kitchen Aid.  Also have an assortment of ladles, mixing spoons, measuring cups and spoons, cutting boards, knives of every size and shape for chopping or cutting anything that does or does not move.  I have five different sizes of roasters!  One for a very small piece of meat all the way up to a 20 pound turkey and beyond.

My mother is the one who pointed out to me that I was a hoarder and why.  Kenny's mother used to wrap up a tablespoon of leftovers and put it in the freezer for "later".  

We save containers.  We save boxes.  We save change.  Nothing is save from us and everything that crosses my path has more than one use.  It is sad, but you know what is sadder?  That our society is not geared to people like me.  Drink a pop, throw away the can.  Eat a half of a sandwich, throw the other half in the trash.  Thirsty?  Spend $1.50 on a bottle of water and drink half of it and throw the rest in the trash.  I wonder how many tons of trash are generated every day on this poor planet?

The longer I live the more thankful I am that this world is not my home, I'm only passing through! click here to play

People who forget the past tend to repeat it!  Just something to think about!

Company's comin' up the road!!

 Back in the day when life was laid back and summer days were long and winter nights were cold, a visitor was a rarity.  Cars were few and far between and if a car pulled on to our road leading up to the Stroh place we knew we were going to have company and they probably would spend the night.  I remember one such visit, but I do not remember who it was.  Only thing I am sure of was that it was Aunt somebody and Uncle somebody.  

Apparently mother had received some sort of message either through the mail or a phone call from somebody and the visit was expected.  Momma would spend days cleaning the house in preparation for the big day.  I do recall the time Uncle Ode came to visit.  What I remember is that he was tall and smoked a pipe and it smelled so very good.  He asked it I would like a puff and of course I said yes.  Momma said "NO" but Uncle Ode stuck the stem in my mouth and told me to take a deep suck on it.  Oh, my good God in heaven, I damn near choked to death!  Of course Uncle thought it funny but mother did not! 

When Uncle Ode came he only stayed a few hours, but I recall one visit from Aunt and Uncle Somebody.  They had a new shiny black car.  I might note that back then there were two colors for a car, black or blacker.  Later they would add a dung green, and then brown.  I was  allowed to be lifted into the car and I could set there and look around, but do not get it dirty!  I wallowed in dirt all day long so I had to be "dusted off" before I was allowed to set on the pristine seat!  

Starting the car entailed poking a "crank" into the front of the car under the radiator and turning it firmly until the engine "caught".  Then the driver would engage the clutch, engage the transmission and when he released the clutch  the car would move forward and they would disappear in a cloud of dust!  Cars were few and far between in our little world, but we liked to see them.  Jake and I used to set under the bridge and hope one would pass over us, but not break the bridge down so as to kill us!

Jake always wore overalls and us girls always wore a dress.  I recall in high school one day a year was designated as "tacky" day.  We could wear jeans that day, but I did not have any.  When school started momma made each of us girls dresses and of course I inherited the ones Josephine grew out of and passed mine down to Donna.  When clothes were "worn completely out" they were then taken apart and went for another use.  The worn parts were rags for cleaning.  The still good parts were cut into one inch strips and a slit cut in each end.  These were then lace together and rolled into a ball.  When mother had enough balls she took them to the "weaver lady" who wove them into a rug.  Nothing was ever disposed of until it was completely used up.  We even had a "button jar."

I know that sometimes when I write on here it seems that my childhood was very sad, but it was not!  Back in those days it was different.  We had an outhouse, but a lot of people did.  Inside plumbing was a rarity and non-existent on Strong Street.  Meals were mostly pots of soup or beans.  We heated with a wood stove and cooked on one also.  We played "Kick the Can" when we were lucky enough to find a can.  Our quiet place was the cemetery behind the house.  Momma made our soap with old save up lard that was first used for cooking and then strained and turned into "lye soap" with lye she made by dripping water through soft, gray wood ashes from the cook stove.

There is not a day that goes by that I do not thank God for sending me to the mother he sent me to live with.  She was a pioneer.  She was honest to a fault.  She was dependable.  Her heart was broken by me many times, but she never gave up on me and never once ever told me I was a disappointment, even when I knew I was. 

So, fancy cars, running water, a cupboard full of food and a home that stays the same temperature all year long with the touch of a dial, are all taken for granted.  My ancestors were pioneers and I thank God every day for them.  And you know the best part of all of this?  I see it reflected in everyone of my kids.  They are all honest, dependable, God fearing little creatures that are always in touch with their momma!

And I am as proud of them as I can be!  And there is a song that reflects all this.  It goes like this;

Count your many blessings, name them one by one, 

and it will surprise you what the Lord has done!click here

Life goes on in spite of it all.

 I woke up at 3:10 AM this morning missing my momma.  I am not good with dates and have to consult a book when pressed to put a time, place and date on any given event.  Seems like Bret was 3 or 4 years old when momma died and he is pushing 30 now.  I know Kenny has been gone almost 20 years.  And here I set!

I know God has a purpose for me, but I am not at all sure what it is!  Covid has us so limited in our lives that my volunteer work is pretty much out the window and the church is closed more than it is open.  Every where I go I wear my protective gear, race home and wash my hands and face.  Pueblo County is now the hot spot for the virus.  I have had my vaccination and am ready for my booster next week and the numbers just keep climbing.

It saddens me to see how little regard the populace has for us old people.  When I do venture out it is usually to Lagreese and back.  I hurry in with my list in my hand and grab what I need and scurry back to the car and home to my sanctuary.  I used to meet a friend at Starbucks and have a Green Tea Frapaccino or Latte, but I now go through the drive thru alone.  Life is not the same as it was 2 years ago.  For Christmas last year I received a $100 Starbucks gift card from a dear friend .  I have used it once.

Life is just easier living in the past.  There is no present and the future looks like it is going to be Republicans and Democrats fighting over who can spend the most money and do the least good.  The other countries seem to be pulling it together and controlling the spread of this virus, but we are so busy fighting about whether your rights supercede mine or vice versa.  I just want to go to Kohls and buy a couple new towels and maybe a bra, but I am afraid to venture that far from home!  And is Kohls still out there?

As the road before me gets shorter, the road behind me looks better.  There was a time when we helped old ladies across the street and picked kittens up out of the gutter and took them home.  There was a time when we gathered in the park for birthdays and played volleyball!  There was a time when I got a mohawk hair cut and went to the Eastside Safeway and the "gang bangers" smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.  Not now.  Safeway was torn down a couple years ago and I do not even know if Louie is still cutting hair because I never see his barber pole turning, but then again, I never get to town to check.  Once a month I pick up my prescription at Blende Drug.  The rest of the trips are one mile North to Lagreese and one mile South back home.  Church is on Sunday, but it is not always open.

I do have a job taking supper to a man in town 3 evenings a week and that is nice.  We play a game of checkers after he eats and then I hurry home to put the geese to bed.  The cat is always glad to see me, but even she is on her downward spiral!  And I have to be alert around her because she bites!

So it is almost 4:00 AM and I am on my second cup of coffee.  Whoopie!  I noticed yesterday that the tin shed has blown full of leaves so when the sun comes up I will go out and sweep them out into a pile and burn them.  I mean if the powers that be are allowing burning today.  If not I will sweep them out and let them pile up some where else.

Maybe I will make cinnamon rolls today.  Maybe I won't.  While I moan and groan about my lot in life you should know that it beats hell out of the alternative!  And remember this: You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself!

I heard that line of crap some where!

I got a doorbell and installed it just in case someone came by and I did not hear them knock, but Janet came and she said she rang it and I never heard it!  $30 down the crapper on that one!

It isn't always the words that count.

Did you ever have your tender little feelings hurt by something someone said?  Or didn't say?  I have been on the receiving end of both those scenarios.  I have to say that I appreciate the former to the latter.  When someone says something hurtful at least I know where I stand and honesty is, after all, the best policy.  My momma drilled into my head that I must be honest under any given situation.  And in all fairness, I learned early on, that a lie is hard to remember, so mostly I just stick to the truth because it is easier to remember.  This works well in most areas of my life, except my marriages.  Some times I shave off a couple, not because I am lying, but because a couple of them were not worth remembering.  I call this my "lie of omission."  Mostly when I divorced I took my previous name back because it matches my kids name.  I went from being Louella Bartholomew to Louella Seeger.  There was an Ivey, Bayless, Gonzales who all morphed into Lou Mercer.  And that is who I am today many, many years later.

Much like Mae West, I never met a man I didn't like and that is true to this day.  I have, however, not met a man that I felt like giving up my retirement check for to this day.  I also love Black Walnut Ice Cream and Wintergreen Lifesavers, but I am not adverse to a big bowl of any kind of ice cream and Spearmint Lifesavers work well too.  This just shows I am flexible!

There was a time in my life that I thought my given name was "stupid bitch".  When I left that man and had 5 kids to support with no help from him nor the welfare system, I was 103 pounds of next to nothing with no self esteem.  I had no life skills and no work experience except  3 weeks that I had worked at a laundry in either Garden City or Liberal.  But I had a vision!  I could see me someday in a home of my own and my kids would be fed and clothed.  It was a dream I clung to and by sheer determination I made it come true.  Granted, it was not the best house in town, but the roof did not leak and we were warm.

I worked for several months on the "shake table" at the Ineeda Laundry just up the street from my house.  Nights I washed dishes at the Blue Grill down on South Main.  It was there that I met a man named "shall remain nameless".  He was a writer.  My dream from the first day I held a Red Big Chief tablet and a lead pencil was to be a writer.  Nameless  and I were friends and he let me read a novel he was aspiring to publish.  I knew I could do better!  To make a long story short, he went on to be a news director at one of the local radio stations.  We dated briefly, but since I had a nest full of kids and he was a "man about town" that did not work out well.  I did run into him a couple years later and was amazed to see he had gone completely bald, was fat and still full of himself!  Very glad I dodged that bullet!

Shortly after meeting him I  discovered a lady who lived 3 doors down on 5th Street wrote for several of the "romance rags".  True Confessions was her favorite source of income.  It was from her that I learned that True Confessions and every other romance magazine was a figment of someone's imagination. They were all in the same form, woman meets man, man is not interested, man pursues woman and they kiss and then live happily ever after. 

I look back on that period in my life and realize that nameless was part of what made me into who I am today even though he was only in my life a short time.  He fueled me to write and journal and all the stuff that today is my salvation.   I did google him a time or two, but found nothing.  I at least published a book and collaborated on a second one.  I still have visions of being a successful published author, but if that never happens, and chances grow slimmer every year, I am still happy with my life.  

Mother always said "If you can come to the end of your life and count your friends on one hand, you are a very successful person." and I can!  My friends are legion, my dreams are many, and with God at my side I may still conquer the world!

Here's hoping!

Rode hard and put away wet!

Momma said it, so it must be true!  She also said, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions!"  "Hindsight is 20/20 looking back."  "Easier said then done!"  Now for some reason, I think these little quotes come under the definition of "idioms".  It might be fun to note here that "idiom" is seperated in my paperback dictionary by only 2 words from the word "idiot!"  That is just a little tidbit of meaningless trivia to start your day off right.

It is now 3:09 AM and I have been up for about an hour.  I made a cup of coffee in my French Coffee Press since I am too tight to go buy another percolator for the sole purpose of making one cup of coffee every morning.  I have finally mastered the fine art of making exactly one cup full with no coffee left over.  Living alone has lots of advantage this being just one of many.

As a single, live alone woman, I am free to step out of the shower completely naked and dash down 2 flights of stairs to answer the phone.  I am also free to take my shower at any given time of the day, or night.  Lunch may occur at 3:26 AM and breakfast at 3:26 in the afternoon and ice cream is liable to happen about any time and is not considered a snack, but rather a meal depending on which other 2 meals it occurs between.

When someone says, "I will call you," that means nothing to me.  "What day and what time are you going to call?"   "Friday" is not a definite time.  If you think I am going to set home all day on Friday waiting for your call, you are on some sort of ego trip and that is a game I am not going to play.  "Soon" is also not a definite.  When one reaches my age every day is a gift!  While your call may be important to both of us it is not what my life hinges upon.  And, if you are 3 or 4 days late in calling, I will assume you are dead.  (Note here that "assume"  makes an "ass" out of "u" and "me".)

Sometimes I wander out the back door with a purpose in mind, like opening the goose house for the day.  Then I see something I have been needing to do, like sweep the leaves out of the tin shed, and that leads to pruning the choke cherry bushes, which then leads to trying to find the damn Dremel that has "walked off"!

The cat understands me, and that is all that really matters!  Right now she is over under one of the tables that holds ebay items and she is digging in a box.  I am assuming she thought she smelled a mouse or rat, or maybe she is just trying to get a rise out of me for some reason.

I am thinking of all the things I need to do and people I need to call and I am pretty sure no one on the list wants me to ring their phone at 3:21 AM!  And, anyway, I am mentally running through my friend list and coming up dry as to who I could call now and hear a welcoming voice.  I could call Bernie since she is 3 time zones ahead of me, but I just talked to her a couple days ago.  I know Debbie is up in Eastern Kansas, but I will talk to her when she calls in about 2 hours, so....

Maybe I will make another cup of coffee.  I am trying to organize the lower basement where the sewing room is, but the Centipedes are doing the "centipede thing" and I do not want to deal with them right now.  So, I am going to re-read this and publish it and do something that I do not know what it is right now.  No doubt, the 6:00 news with find me asleep in my recliner!

Remember, "All's well that ends well." and God will never give you more than you can carry!

Peace!

Closing of the season.

October is a sad month.  It does not start out as sad, but it ends on a very low note.  1965.  October 30.  Dona Marie turned 1 year old.  Sam was 26 days old.  Duane and I had been married 5 years.  My brother was in a bad car wreck in McPherson, Kansas.  We left the kids with Duane's sister in Jetmore and drove to McPherson hospital arriving about 1:00 AM.  

My mother was alone in the room.  My brother lay swaddled in bandages on a hospital bed that held him in a semi raised postition.  His right leg kicked  constantly.  Mother said they had gone though a stop sign and broadsided a loaded gravel truck.  She thought he was trying to hit the brake, although he was not the driver.  He was incoherent.  Mother was already planning in her mind how she would bring him home and she knew he would be an invalid, but that was her son and she would take care of him.  Jake was her only son.

His name was not Jake, it was Delbert Leroy Bartholomew.  He was born October 5, 1935.  He carried a scar on his right cheek that he got when he was about 9 years old because he snuck up behind a Shetland Pony and "goosed it".  Of course it reacted and kicked him.  What did the silly little shit think would happen?

 

He introduced me to my first husband.  After that we sort of drifted apart.  Distance had a lot to do with that as well as guilt that my husband was not the knight in shining armour that Jake had anticipated for me.  The fact that he fell in love a couple times and now had a son he needed to help raise and another on the way made the distance even greater.

 

I missed Dona's first birthday that year and my sister in law cared for my only son that was 26 days old.  To say I was devastated by his death would be an understatement.  He was so young and vibrant.  He had his whole life ahead of him and I needed him in mine.  But, God had other plans.  

And, that my friends, is what this is all about.  God has a plan for our lives.  I do not know what his plan for me was, and I may never figure it out.  I do know that the little girl above being held up by her sister and brother could have aspired to soaring heights, but fell short of the goal!  I look back and try to see just where I went wrong and it is a mystery to me.  I wanted to be a missionary and when that fell through I just pretty much drifted along with the tide.  So, in all fairness, I think maybe God just put me here in Colorado to kind of shake up the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. 

I have worked to get AIDS awareness to the forefront and what was a killer disease is now a manageable health condition.  

Gays are now accepted as a segment of the population.

I worked the Eleventh Hour in the Hospice program and helped many people smile as they crossed the bar and looked back before leaving this earth in a cloud of fairy dust to meet their saviour.

My children all seem to be successful in one way or another and are responsible citizens.

The important part of all of this is that as I mark this anniversary every year.  I will spend October 30 crying most of the day, but I will do it where no one sees.  I have a shoulder to lean on that even I can not see.  They say "seeing is beleiving," but that is not always true.  I have never seen God, but I do know that without him, I would not be here today. When I am happy he smiles with me.  We have even been known to laugh out loud.  When I cry he holds me.

So rest in peace, my dear brother.  Jake, Josephine, Dorothy, Mary, Mother, Dad, Grandma, Aunts, Uncles, friends, lovers, in-laws and outlaws.   click here

The changing of the coffee pot!

 For over 30 years, this coffee pot has set in the same place and every morning I have poured a pitcher of water through it and been rewarded with a pot of hot coffee, just the strength I wanted, but yesterday my world changed.  At my age this should not be, and yet here I set with my world in shambles.  Kenny and

I bought this Bunn after about 10 years of marriage.  We both liked coffee and this pot would give you a full bodied brew in less than 2 minutes.

Now Bunn has a warranty that if something goes wrong they will replace parts for as long as you own the Bunn.  We did have a new something put on it a time or 2, but we are talking over 30 years!  Hell, my ovaries did not even last that long!  So when the hot plate switch did not turn off any more, I made an executive decision and since I do live alone, I can do that.  I set the Bunn over onto the trash can.  It has served me well and I will give it a decent retirement.  

I reached for my trusty French Coffee Press and I shall henceforth make one cup of coffee at a time.  It requires one tablespoon of coffee and one cup of very hot water.  Perfect for an old lady that lives alone!

Now, parting with the Bunn is not going to be easy and it will not remain in the trash can for an uncaring pickup man to small it with the hydraulic press that mashes all my other trash.  It will set by the back door for a while.  Then I will move it to the tin shed.  In the spring I will probably let it set in the garden for a while.  Some day, when I forget having coffee with Kenny every morning I will throw it in the trash bin.  

Now with utmost sadness, I have to tell you, I do not think it will ever leave the house.  I will never forget Kenny.  I have lived in this house for over 40 years.  I raised 2 of my kids and one of my grandchildren here.  I buried my husband and a couple ex husbands, my mother, a grandchild, sisters, in laws and outlaws with one hand on that coffee carafe.  I just can not see the Bunn ever being put out to pasture.  I might just plant an African Violet in the pot and set it over by the front window. For sure, it will not end up in the trash!

So for now, I am going to heat up another cup of water and put a tablespoon of coffee in the French Press and take another look back down the road I have been traveling and relive a little of the life I no longer live.

Never forget the good times!