Opal

 Over the years during my life here in Pueblo, I have had a myriad of friends.  Of course, I still do!  One of them was Opal.  Kenny and I were newlyweds when I entered the phase of my life that Opal would be an integral part of for many years.  Back then she was a feisty little red-haired woman who lived in a small one-bedroom apartment behind King Soopers on Northern.  I never knew her to drive, although I assume she did at one time.

She had two sons and a daughter.  During the course of our friendship I became friends with all of them.  It was early in our friendship that she had gone to King Soopers, which was within easy walking distance and came home with a few groceries.  She tripped and fell into the concrete step in a face plant.  Poor little thing had two black eyes and a very fat lip for several weeks after that.  Still she lived alone.

Over the course of the next several years we remained friends.  I must confess that I sometimes let life get in the way of our friendship, but that is how life is.  Kenny was working out of town a lot and I liked to go stay with him in places like Denver, Grand Junction and I certainly enjoyed trips to Paonia and the drive there through the Black Canyon.  With him working out of town most of the time, life here in Pueblo suffered.  Course Sam and Susie were still at home until Sam went off to college.  

It was after Kenny passed and the kids were grown and gone, that I finally got to spend more time with Opal.  We attended the same church where her son played the piano.  Later he hired me to clean his home and spend time with his mother.  When he went out of town for meetings some where I would bring her to my house for the night and then take her home for the day so she could "putter". 

To say Opal and I were friends would be an understatement.  It was more like an invisible bond of sisterhood.  As she grew older, she became more forgetful, as did I.  We would return to my house  for the night and neither one of us could remember if we closed the garage to the town house, so we would load into the car and drive back over there.  It was always closed.  We finally had a piece of paper in the car upon which I would write the time we seen the door close firmly.

She had stomach aches fairly regularly and Chuck and I both thought it was mostly her imagination.  She used a lot of Alka Seltzer.  And then one day she was in so much pain she could not stand it and ended up in the hospital.  The diagnoses was that a scar from her appendectomy many years ago had grown and closed off her intestine.  Nothing could be done.

I miss that feisty little used to be red head.  I miss her son who passed just this past year.  But you know what?  Life is made of our memories.  And the best part of memories is that we can tailor them to fit our  needs at the time.  Opal was one in a million.  I loved her and she loved me.  The bond may be ethereal, but it is not forgotten.  When I think of Opal I remember all her endearing qualities and I hope some day some on will look back on me with only half the tenderness that I remember little Opal!

Rest in peace my little friend.

First lucid thought of the day!

 Setting here with my first cup of coffee of the day and Sam Seeger and Richard Meyer pop into my head with  brief memory from long ago.  Sam was in Central High here in Pueblo.  Richard was a son-in-law of Kenny's.  Sam was probably a Sophomore at the time.  One of his subjects was the German language.  He would come in and spout off phrase he had learned in school that day and sometimes I could decipher it, which always surprised him.

Just a little background here.  My grandfather came into America via Ellis Island when he was 9 years old.  Most of my ancestors were fluent in the German language and at family gatherings the elders would converse in German, so I had a passing knowledge of the language.  My first husband was probably more German than I was.  When he proposed, he did so in German.  So, like I said, I knew a little German, but not enough to guide Sam through the language with any degree of competency.  Back to the story.

I had told Sam that Richard spoke German and I felt if he wanted to learn it would be nice to have Richard for supper and they could converse.  Sounded good to him so the invitation was issued and Richard accepted.  I told him Sam would be trying his German skills on him and he agreed to the plan.

The night arrived and supper was cooked and the table "laid".  Now "laid" was the term that the grandma's had always used for "setting the table." Grace having been said, conversation could begin.  Sam and Richard exchanged "Guten abens" and then Sam uttered something in German to which Richard replied with several sentences in fluent German.  Sam once more more replied in his halting German to which Richard replied with a fluency that I had not heard since leaving grandma's house.  Then the table fell silent except for the conversation between Kenny and Richard about the "job".  

Sam and I were cleaning the kitchen after and the men had gone outside to the garage, which meant Kenny had gone out to smoke his pipe and visit with Richard away from the domestic stuff inside.  

Sam began our discourse with "Good Lord!  You did not tell me how well Richard knew German!  I just made a complete ass out of myself and you let me!"

I replied that I thought the conversation had gone rather well to which he replied, "Oh, yeah!  It went well, but I do not think Richard gave a damn how fast Tom can run, or how far Mary walked to school!  You didn't tell me how well he knew German."

I asked him if he understood anything.  He replied that he did, but that was our one and only discourse.  He went on to go to the German club, I think and maybe learned a little German.  Since coming to Pueblo I am no longer around people who speak any German, except for my friend, Jerome.  

So, this is what is on my mind the very first thing this morning!  

Hope you all have a good day! 

Guten Auben. (I think that is right.)

Momma is in my head again!

 It is almost 4:30 AM and momma is already starting my day.  I have a small little problem in my life that by simply not saying anything has now become a thorn in my side and is now growing into a bigger problem.  If I ignore it long enough I will get my belly full of resentment and say or do something that I will, no doubt, come to regret.  It will not go away.  If it were something I could just sweep under the rug, I would, but it is not.  So, I will just set here and play momma's voice in my brain!  

Being the mouthy little brat she raised, I still argue with momma and my arguments are shown in italics.

"You can not know what someone else is thinking.  You only know what they say and do.  And even then, they only say and do what they think you want to hear and see."  A promise made is a promise broken.

"Actions speak louder than words."  In action screams volumes! 

"Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today."  Tomorrow never comes!

"Easier said than done."  The road to hell is paved with good intentions!

"A man is only as good as his word."  Talk is cheap!

The proof is in the pudding.  I agree fully!

So here I set.  The problem I have been dealing with is unchanged.  The situation has not changed one iota and no one seems to give a damn but me. So I guess the solution is to pull up my big girl pants and deal with it.  This makes me kind of sad, because once more, my faith in a human being has been violated.  Trust is out the window and doubt has walked in.  You would think after 80 years, I would learn that leaving off the first "t" in trust, leaves "rust" which is what happens to the strongest steel that is not taken care of. 

Maybe I am just getting cynical in my old age.

His name was Gene.

 It was a long time ago, but it still haunts me.  I had divorced my first husband, and my second when I met him.  I owned a restaurant on Fourth Street in Hutch at the time.  I had dated my soon to be third husband, but discarded him as a lost cause when I met Gene.  He lived in a small town up near Kansas City.  He loved to dance.  He had a sense of humor.  He loved my kids and most importantly, he loved me.  He worked with my sister's husband and that was the downfall.  He and his wife were in the middle of an amicable divorce and I was all set to become Mrs. Happy Wife when fate intervened in the shape of my sister.  

He stopped calling.  He changed his phone number.  Communications back then were not the convenient little texts and stuff that they are now.  So, I gave up on Gene.  I started dating Charlie.  I never for a minute forgot Gene.  My sister told me he had gone back to his wife.  But one night as I was alone after closing the cafe, there was a knock on the window.  There he was.  He came in and I made us coffee.  It was a very strained conversation as he explained that he had gone back and he and his wife, although not happy, were comfortable in a marriage of convenience.  It was then that he explained that my sister had called him and told him that I had married Charlie and we were very happy so he should just move on.  She was married to his friend and co-worker, so why should he doubt her?

Maybe because she had lied?  Now it was too late.  Time had passed and while he still loved me and I him there was his wife to consider.  And Charlie.  He just wanted to see me one more time and tell me that while he was not happy, he and his wife were comfortable in their marriage of convenience.  And of course, there were grandkids now.....   I knew I would never forget him, and I was right.  Here I am 50 years later and I can see him as clearly as that night in Lou's Kitchen on 4th street.

I confronted Josephine and she explained that she did what was best for me.  Water under the bridge.  There is no going back, is there?

I do not think of what might have been, although it does pop into my mind from time to time.  My sister is gone and I am sure he is also.  I came to Colorado and have now been here fifty years.  I do think of the time we spent together and that will probably never stop as long as there is breathe in my body.  I will remember how we danced and laughed.  The last time I danced it was with him.  I woke up in the night last night remembering him and I can not see that ever stopping.

I never really forgave Josephine for her duplicity, but we never spoke of it.  It was a betrayal and a betrayal by any other name is still a betrayal.  

I have had a good life in Colorado.  I spent 20 years with a wonderful man whom I loved and he loved me in return.  I would not give that up for all the dreams I had.  

So rest in peace, my sister.  Rest in peace Gene.  When it is all said and done and the nails pounded in the coffin, it is all just a memory of what happened on our way to our destiny.

Good night sweet prince.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness!

 At least that is what momma always told us.  Now back in the day that she preached that, we did not have running hot and cold water.  We never actually had any running water in the house.  We had an electric pump out by the horse tank.  Horses need a lot of water.  Since their water needed to be clean, we were not allowed to play in the horse tank no matter how hot it was.  Of course, I was terrified of those big horses with their big, yellow teeth.   There was no way in the world that I would let them come near me.  Of course, my dad was not the best fence builder, so it was not unusual to find they had escaped.  That meant we had to go find them and lead them home.  "We" was usually Jake and I.  I digress.

Summers in Kansas are very hot!   Very hot and usually very dry, but occasionally we did get a rain.  When that happened, Strong Street was usually flooded.  Since we had an old car that was only used to go to Grandma's house, we walked everywhere.  Now you should know that barefeet in the mud is one of the small pleasures we had.  A mud puddle was meant to be walked through barefooted!  I think that might have been a law back then.

Now, you should know that bare feet and cool water in a mud puddle is not the only joy of my childhood!  When the mudpuddle began to dry up, we did not walk in it.  We waited patiently for it to dry up and when it did there was a whole new joy!  When it was completely dry, it formed a crust.  The crust then turned into a curled- up crust and we could step on the curls and feel them crumble beneath our feet.  Oh, my vision of heaven contains a lot of mudpuddles!  Of course, this was the bane of my mother's existence!  Before we came in the house we had to go to the pump and wash our feet.  "You are not getting in that bed with those filthy feet!"

So, Jake and I would take turns pumping for the smaller kids and each other.  Bonding was different back there on Strong Street than it was on Avenue A in Hutchinson.  When we moved to the big city with running water, we were afraid to use it.  We did not want to "wear it out" or "use it all up".  We did like to set in the bathtub with no water on hot days and watch the little red haired boy who worked at the film developing place across the alley.  Forgot the name of it, but the boy's name was Tommy and my little sister, Mary ending up marrying him!  Sadly, they are both gone now.  There is  nobody left but Donna and I.  

Funny how that works, isn't it?

It makes me sad.

 As life goes on, so does my memory, which is actually a good thing until it wakes me up in the middle of the night.  Last night I woke up remembering my oldest sister and, of course, Nickerson, Kansas.  I was 15 years old and my sister, Josephine was pregnant.  She had a little girl who was 3 or 4 as I recall.  Her husband was at work in the oil field.  As I recall his shifts were 24 on and 24 off, but that could be just something that came into my head, because I never really paid much attention.

On this particular day I had been sent to stay with her to keep an eye on her daughter, who shall remain nameless for this story.  I liked the little girl so it was no problem to entertain her.  Josephine was another matter.  She stayed in bed and appeared to be in some sort of distress, but how was I to know what was actually happening?  I had no idea where babies came from and was not interested in learning about the birds and the bees at this point in my life.  I was there to entertain my niece, and that was what I was doing.  But Josephine had other ideas.

She called me into the bedroom and told me to take her daughter, my niece, and go get help because the baby was coming.  I grabbed my niece and ran next door to the preachers house.  He called the grocery store and told his wife, who was a nurse, to come home right now.  He assured me it was all under control and that I should take my niece and go to my house where mother was and send her to Josephine.

It was only 3 blocks, but it seemed like it was miles.  I carried my niece most of the way which was not easy as she was heavy for me.  But we made it.  Mom left on foot because we had no car.  To make a long story short, the baby was stillborn.  It was a little boy.  

The next day, Jack Lamb, the mortician, brought a tiny coffin to the house.  He brought it in and set it on the coffee table.  He opened the lid to show us a very tiny little boy wrapped in a soft blue blanket.  His little hand was positioned to hold the blanket closed and I would have thought he was only sleeping had I not known.  That was so sad and a picture in my mind that will never fade.  

Since that time, I have attended many funerals, but I always see that tiny baby in my mind.  I went to visit the Nickerson cemetery several years back and visited the tiny grave of Baby Boy.  He did not have a name, but he will never be forgotten.  Although he never breathed a breath on this side of the veil, he still lives in my mind and my heart.  65 years later he is still in my mind holding his blanket together under his tiny chin.

Some memories never die.

Update on my trash service.

 Service?  That word is not in the vocabulary of the people who work for/own/ or drive for C & C Disposal.  My trash remains sercured in the back yard, but makes a daily trip to the front just in case they decide that I am worthy of having my trash picked up.  Better Business Bureau has not received my complaint yet.  

We used to have a newspaper and if we still did I could write a letter to the editor.  Maybe there is some way I can do that online.  Maybe I will call the health department today.  Since I have little faith in anyone doing anything for me I do not look forward to doing anything about this today.

So I am just going to leave this here and go get another cup of coffee.  But do this for me.... if you have a trash company that actually picks up your trash, give me a call.  I pay my bill on time and try to do all the things they ask, like not put dead animals and such in the bin.  I am just a little old lady who wants to get rid of her trash and not having much luck!  If I was even 5 years younger I would start a trash company and I would use my little Honda for the truck.  Sure would be better than the company now who just blows old ladies off and goes on their way.

Today I am going to do nothing about the trash situation, because I am tired and old and C & C Disposal does not give a big rats ass!!!  Maybe when the gray wagon comes to haul me out to the crematorium someone will notice my mountain of trash and give my estate a ticket for littering.