It happened again!! Honest people!!

Yesterday was a hub of activity at the SWM's estate.  Bikers all over the place for the British Motorcyle Association of Colorado sale as per the terms of the will.  More about that tomorrow, but I have got to tell you this part first.  Remember when I left my purse in the shopping cart at Walmart just a couple weeks ago?  And remember how I got it back just like I left it?  Well, listen up.
This is a lady from St. Louis.  She went to our local Walgreen's right over there on 4th and Abriendo to buy pop and something else, I forget what.  Later in the day, she was going with Libby some where and she looked for her purse.  Then WE looked for her purse and very soon came the sinking realization that it was not in our vicinity. So she and dear hubby lept in the pickup and off to the local Walgreen.

You guessed it!  There it was.  Two ladies had found it in the parking lot in the cart and brought it and turned it in to the clerk who locked it up until someone came to claim it.  Now, I ask you, what does this say about our fair city?  I say it speaks volumes about the caliber of people that we never meet.  I know that sinking sensation when I reach for something and it is not there.  Can you imagine how this would feel to a woman a thousand miles from home?
Now granted a woman's purse is one of those items that has been known to strike fear in the heart of more than one man.  Like my late SWM.
"Do you have a pen?"
"Sure. Get one out of my purse!" 
Fear in the eyes.  "That purse?"
"Yeah."
"You mean open it up?"
"Yeah, just reach in there!"
"You mean with my hand?"
"Well, yeah, unless you have a better solution as to how to get it out."
"So, I have to open it up?"
"I thought we had established that."
"I have to touch it?"
I found it was much easier and a whole lot quicker to just pop it open and get the pen myself.  And yet I see movies where "purse snatchers" grab a purse right off a woman's shoulder and run away with it.  They apparently were raised in a different era than most of the men I know.  Or they are drug crazed maniacs.  Or they have never been in the wonderland of a woman's purse!  Where I came from no self respecting man would ever touch a woman's purse for any reason what so ever. 
Oh, dear, I see I have once more digressed from my message.  This old age is about to be more than I can keep up with.  Seems I spend half of my time getting something and the other half wondering where I put it after I got it.  No wonder I leave things in the shopping cart, but dear Liz, what is your reason?  LOL
So back to the honesty in parking lots.  Maybe it is just easier to be honest if no one is looking.  Or maybe I have just been a pessimist all along.  What ever, my hat is off to Jeffery at the south side Walmart and the two ladies at the Abriendo Walgreen.  I am proud to salute you, who ever you are!
******************************************************************************

 

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Ah, my bicycle and a chance to run head on with a Mack truck!

See me on my bike?  See my bike without me on it?  See that car in the background?  What do you think would happen if I were on the road and I met that car head on?  Think I would damage that grill and leave it a shattered mess?  Or do you think me and my little bike would lose that round?  Pretty sure I know the answer to that one.  But here is what happens every day of my life.

I go some where in the car.  Now I have always been taught that when I ride a bike I am to follow all the rules that a car or motorcycle would follow.  Stay on the right side of the road.  Stop at stop signs.  Use a hand signal to indicate what my next move will be.  Oh, yeah and obey the speed limit.  I have no problem with that.  Can't hardly keep moving without falling over most of the time, but that is irrelevant.

So here I am tooling along and up the road headed straight toward me is a bicycle.  Some times it is a kid and more often than not it is a grown up leading the pack.  Now when I walk I do face oncoming traffic, but be reasonable on this bike thing.  When walking I can easily step over it I need to while on a bike you can not.  You are in the lane of traffic and it is the equivalent of going the wrong way on a one way street!  There you are on your vulnerable little 2 wheels that probably weighs 15 pounds and here I am heading straight for you.  I know you are over on the other side of the white line, almost in the ditch, but I have no choice if you bobble just a little but to run over you.  Think you would like that?  So I can either swerve into oncoming traffic to miss you and kill myself, or I can stop and look at you like you are suicidal, which you are!

Now here is a link for you to read just in case you think I am dreaming this up.  Granted this link is to the California CDOT but last I knew they were part of the United States and under the auspices of  of the federal Department Of Transportation.  I know that you have reasoning powers so think about where you ride your bike logically. 

http://www.dmv.ca.gov/pubs/brochures/fast_facts/ffdl37.htm

When you are driving your car and you come on a slow moving vehicile you slow down.  Then you check oncoming traffic in the left lane.  If it is clear, you accelerate and move into the left lane to pass and then quickly back in to your lane.  But when a bike is coming towards you in your lane, it does not matter what is in the left lane.  You are left with no choices. 

I would not bring this subject up if it were not happening more often especially now that summer is here and more bikes are out.  I think I am going to make bike safety a priority.  I will first stop in the local cop shop and ask them if they could possible consider giving tickets to bicycleists who do not obey the rules.  I realize if I hit one of them I would not be held liable since they were clearly in the wrong, but there is that "morally responsible" thing to consider and I do so love to sleep at night with a fairly clear conscience.  I am afraid the vision of a body hurtling into my windshield would screw that up royally.

I had a grandson staying with me once who was a teenager and in college.  He rode his bike because that is what he had.  And he rode it on the wrong side of the road because "If someone is going to hit me I want to see them coming.!"  I explained to him that he would.  And he did.  He came home all scuffed up one evening.  Some guy pulled out from the stop sign and never even seen him.  Course not.  I am extra cautious, but not everyone is.  So the guy pulled out and Dameon bounced across his hood.  A second later and he would have been under his wheels; a second earlier and he would have broadsided him.  Did he learn anything?  I doubt it.  Grandma's are not real bright.

So this is my soap box for the day.  And this is your assignment for the day:  When you see someone riding a bicycle on the wrong side of the road, point it out to them that they are endangering not only themselves, but others.  They are setting an example for someone somewhere.  Oh and a little side note here, be diplomatic about it.  The finger gesture does not always convey your thoughts accurately!

 

 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  My Novel  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Just another little bump in the road.

There you go.  this is a miracle in more ways than one.  First, I took this picture myself and it is clear and you can see it and actually count the stitches.  Second miracle is that as soon as the dermatologist seen it she wanted to do a biopsy.  No waiting for her.  And I let her which is the third miracle.  I do not like anyone cutting on me and telling me to hold still.  And the third miracle was when I came back to get the stitches out from the first  one, I let her do it again!  This is the second one.  This should be the last one.

Now I have shared many aspects of my life with you from the fight with the boyfriend to his passing last month so I do not feel one bit reticent to share this little deal with you.  My dermatologist is Sharon Kessler here in Pueblo and she is a dream come true.  And just look at that wound there.  It is about an inch long and I am willing to bet that when the stitches come out it will be almost invisible.  I love that woman.  And she did it right there in her office in just a matter of minutes.  Now comes the sermon.

I grew up in the age of sunshine was good for you.  Running behind the sprayer when they sprayed the mosquitoes on a hot evening in Nickerson was fun because it cooled us and we slept better after our little mini shower.  We had an asbestos mat under our stove and on our table.  The AMA ran ads in thier publications that said "Throat hot?  Smoke Kools."  We smoked in the car and the kids didn't know they were at risk.  We sprayed the crops with ddt and then canned the fruits of our labors.  Ah, the good old days.

So now we are old and we see the dermatologist once every 6 months to a year to get things burned off of us.  We go to the eye doctor to have the cataract removed.  We hack and cough and try to rid our lungs of the asbestos and coal dust and God only knows what else is lurking in our bodies.  We take cholesterol lowering pills trying to get our arteries clear from all the artifical crap that is clogging us up.  We are obese because our bodies can not digest the stuff that is in the food now days that is supposed to make us healthy. 

So what is the solution?  Damn!  I was hoping you could tell me.  The first 60 years of my life I spent marching uphill, raising kids, buying a house, raising grandkids, and now I am in the golden years and I am still marching uphill, raising kids, trying to keep the house, paying astronomical utility bills and wondering just when I will reach the top.  Problem is when I do reach the top, the other side is downhill and everyone knows, when you are over the hill you pick up speed.  Now where was I going with this?

Oh, yeah.  You should be wearing sunscreen any time you are out in the sun.  And there is something about SPF or something like that.  Damn, I did so want to make this some sort of public service announcement, but I forgot how that was going to work.  And they say your hearing is the first thing to go!  Anyway, wear the sunscreen and for crying out loud stay away from the mosquito sprayer on a hot night.  Oh, and buy my book!

 

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Oh, no! Can it beeeeeeeeeee?

Looks pretty harmless, doesn't it?  Well it is not!  There are bees there and they are very mean bees.  The other day I popped over there to drop off a couple boxes.  First box delivered and on the way back to the car a bee stung me on the ankle.  I grabbed the second box and hurried inside.  Bee bite on  the way up the step.  Dropped the box inside, pulled the door shut, turned the key and another on the way to the car.  By this time I was in pain.  Those damn things hurt!  Luckily I always have my big container of ice water so I fished out an ice cube and rubbed the two on my leg that hurt the worst.  The one on my arm wasn't that bad. 
After a trip to the dermatologist, I drove back over to asses the situation.  Bees were every where and it seemed they were concentrated at the front porch and in the evergreens.  So I came home and started calling exterminators.  Well, let me tell you now, that is what my mother always called an exercise in futility!  The one company who actually had an opinion as to how to do this was quite clear on two things.  The nest in the front would cost $160 to remove and the one in the back would be an additional $45.  That was well and good, but I can not see a nest in the front or back.  Well, that is a problem then cause we can not move it if we can not see it.  Hell, if I could see it, I could move it!
Now you all know that I am a kind hearted woman and I do not hurt anything, man or beast, but me and those bees are going to come to a n understanding of some kind!  I do not like to kill bees, but by the same token, I do not like to be stung by them.  So here is the deal:
I know a lot of you out there have similar ideas.  If you have any idea how I could possibly get them to leave quietly, or at least stay away from me, I would love to hear them.  There is a comment place down there where you can click and get a thing to write on and tell me what to do.  Or email me at loumercer3@aol.com
We have a sale coming up at this house in a couple weeks and killer bees dive bombing our customers is not going to be good. I googled this and some where it said the safe and natural way to destroy them is spray with soapy water.  But, there you go killing them.  And if that does not work there are going to be some pissed off bees after me again.  As mad as they were the other day, I do not want to further ruffle thier fur, so to speak.
So I shall anxiously await any suggestions  any of you might possibly have to clear up this little wrinkle in my world.
 VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Slide show of the memorial site.

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Saturday August 25, 2012

Sherman Joseph Schroeder, Jr

February 17, 1935

to

July 13, 2012

 

 

This past Saturday we all gathered at The Sangre de Cristo Hospice Center located at 300 West Abriendo (the former Abriendo Inn) to pay our final tribute to my dear friend Sherman.  Nephew Brent Schroeder came from Boulder, Doc from Ordway, several friends from Denver, Colorado Springs and some from here.  Sister Nancy stopped by for a moment.  It is very informal at the center and we just visited.  Libby Kyer summed up his life ( if a life can indeed be summed up in 15 minutes).  Jerry read a few emails.  We watched a photo DVD put together by Brent.  We ate a few sandwiches and finger desserts.  Drank a little tea and coffee and just visited about Sherman and how many lives he had touched over his 77 years.

 

I am still spending my time wondering if I was listening at all the past 2 1/2 years when he was talking.  I knew he had friends, I just had no idea how many,  how devoted his friends were, how they came from all areas and all walks of life.  I knew he helped start the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado, and that he collected Japanese swords, sword parts and books on the subject.  I knew he collected books on collecting.  I knew he had owned a contracting business in Denver and that he was an engineer, draftsman, and designer.  I knew he loved dogs and owned a champion Doberman named Dirk as well as three other very unique dogs in his life.  I knew he liked BMW's, Porche, and Corvette's and had owned them at one time or another.  I knew this and a lot of other stuff, but what I really knew was very little.

 

I knew he loved his Victorian home on the bluff, which will now be sold.  I know he liked to walk on the river, which I now do alone.  I know he liked to go out and eat on the spur of the moment.  I know he was interested in politics.  I know he was a carpenter, and he wanted to grow things.  I know he collected art work.  I know when he wondered about something he researched it until he could talk about it with authority. 

 

I know he had a kind heart.  When he went into University Park he told me to take all his groceries and all his clothes and whatever else could be useful to the migrant center east of town for Sister Nancy to do with as she chose.  And I did.  I know he cared about all God's creatures and as one of God' creatures, I know he cared about me.  I know he was my friend.  And I know I will miss him.  I still reach for the phone to call him and tell him some little thing I have done that would make him  proud.  I just need to find a way to continue what we started together, but without him.

 

The migrant center is still there.  The animal shelter is still there.  So I am toying with an idea.  I need to touch a few bases and then I think I will have a way to keep Sherman J. Schroeder, Jr. alive in my mind.  Stay tuned for updates.  Sherman chose me for a reason!



The BMAC arrives from Colorado Springs
 

Just some folks visiting.

Jerry Pokorny who headed up the bikers for this trip.

South side Walmart, missing purse and yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!

 See this purse?  I carry one just almost like it but where this one is red, mine is lime green.  Same peace signs.  Oh, and the handle is lime green.  It is about 13" high and 15" wide.  You get the picture?  Not something one would overlook easily.  Course have not dealt with me, have you?

Yesterday I took my little self up the mountain to Beulah and my favorite coffee shop.  (More about that later, but this is about something else.)  Since Saturday is Sherman's memorial service I needed to stop at Walmart and pick up a few items.  Since I was right there at the South side Walmart, I stopped and went inside.

My shopping was quickly accomplished and very soon I was on my way home.  I thought briefly about stopping at Taco Bell and getting one of those new Cantina Bowls, but did not.  Should have and saved myself many gray hairs, because I would have realized early on that my purse had decided to stay there in the cart at the Walmart store for anyone who happened by to pick it up and take it home and spend my $6.00 and order lots of stuff online with my credit card.  But I did not.

Upon arrival at home I unloaded the car and at that point realized what a stupid move I had made.  I read articles all the time about identity theft and know all the things to do to avoid it happening to me.  Now in all fairness to me, in all the articles I have read, never once has anyone of them said "Do not leave your purse in the shopping cart in the parking lot in broad daylight and drive off and go home."  Never said anything along that line at all.

So back home one hour later and the purse is not with me and I hit panic mode.  I searched frantically for the number to that store, but it was not there.  I found out later that I needed to call the North side and they would give me the number to the south side.  (Say, what!)  So I frantically called 911 since that is the only number I could think of.  A very nice young lady answered and I blurted out that I needed a phone number.  She gave me the number and also the number for the police in case I needed that.  I felt better just knowing someone else out there knew how stupid I was.

I was so relieved when the girl at Walmart told me that yes it was there and locked in the safe room.  The man who gathered the carts (the one I almost backed over) had brought it in and given it to them.  Set a new land record getting to the store.  Customer service girl held it up and I reached for it, but first I had to prove who I was.  "Just look in that black and white thing there and see my drivers license with the picture of me and my Mohawk."  She smiled and the purse and I were reunited.

Now comes the part that almost makes me cry.  I told her I wanted to reward the man who turned it in to the office.  "Oh, no.  You can't.  He just followed company policy."  Begging and wheedling did no good, but she did tell me his name.  It is Jeffery.  Could have knocked me over with a feather on that, because Sherman's brother is named Jeffery.  I kind of thought someone was looking out for me on this one.

I went and looked for him in the parking lot, but he had gone to lunch.  I may try again, but for sure I am going to write to the Southside Walmart and commend them on hiring honest people.  The chances that Jeffery at Southside Walmart will read this are probably two...Slim and None.  But I want you all to know that there are still people out there who are honest and will do the right thing.  And when you go to the Southside Walmart, put in a good word for Jeffery.  I do hope I catch him one of these days and I can thank him in person.  In the meantime, I am going to let him be an inspiration for me and I will try to do the right thing for someone else.

Thank you, Jeffery!!