My life after Trump

Anyone who knows me even slightly, knows I am a liberal.  I did not say Democrat, but I did say liberal.  And that should be in capital letters.  I was once called a flaming liberal by a man I cared about at the time.  Well, actually it was the "f" word, but not flaming.  My response was to walk away.  My mother always said to "call a spade, a spade."  She also said a "A lie by any other name is still a lie."  And "Be true to yourself because at the end of the day there is no one there, but you and your God."  So I have tried to mostly follow what my momma said, and that night was no different.  I must confess I felt a small tinge of sadness as I turned my back and walked away.  I knew I would miss the little guy, but it had to be done for me to live with myself.

Democrats and Republicans can live together, but not Conservatives and Liberals.  So I went off to my AIDS Walk and my Los Pobres and my Gay and Lesbian friends.  I went to my UCC church that my sister in law had called "a den of iniquity".  I frequented the soup kitchen and took water to the homeless.  And Sherman went his way.

For 5 months he did what ever it is big, tall, bigoted men do.  I heard not a word from nor about him.  I did kind of miss him sometimes, but life is never what we want as much as what we get.  I actually started dating a guy who, while he may not have approved of my Liberal stance, he accepted it.  That was about all I could hope for so I went with that. Damn!  I just realized that I can not remember his name!

Now those of you who know me, also know that I am a very simple minded woman and almost completely unable to lie.  I have been called many things in my life, but never a liar.  If I think something, I say it.  If I feel something, I do it.  This guy was not like that.  He fawned over me like I was some sort of goddess, but it was not in his eyes.  I did not see the acceptance and giving that needed to be there.  Oh, he was free enough with the old checkbook, but the smile on his lips never reached his eyes, and that is very important to me.  So when my phone rang that cold night right after Christmas and it was Sherman on the other end,  I could see hope for life again.  Intelligent conversation.  Eating at the greasy spoon on Northern.  And this time it was different.

He no longer watched Fox news 24/7.
He met with Sister Nancy at his home.
He carried my food up the stairs at the SCAP office when I held my lunches.

Those of you who know me know the story of Sherman and how he remained a Republican, but became a liberal.  You know how he died and you know he proposed on his deathbed and changed his will to leave me everything he had in life.  His clothes went to Los Pobres along with all the groceries he had rat holed.  When his will was probated he gave me $45,000 for me to use "as I saw fit for my causes."  And I did.

If you go back in this blog you can find a story called "Long Ago and Not Very Far Away."  He knew I liked to write and he wanted me to write our story.  So I did.  Or just email me and I will send it to you in pdf. fomat.  loumercer3@aol.com

So, back to my life after Trump.  I tell you about Sherman because he would have been a Trump supporter before he met me.  Now do not think for one moment that I am special.  I am not.  The only inference that sentence has is to make clear that I was the instrument that lead Sherman to explore the avenue that there were other beliefs out there and that the gays were actually human beings with human feelings.  He learned that there was a wider world where "wet backs" labored in the fields to feed him and that homeless people slept under bridges because they had no where else to go.  He learned that "soup kitchens"  feed hungry people and missions feed hungry souls.  He learned that a little kindness goes a long way and just because you think one way, does not mean everyone else does.

I hope we can "come together"  after Trump, but right now my soul is tattered by a man that hates gays, women, Obama, immigrants, and apparently everyone that is not him.  I did not make this up.  He said it.  He was very clear about the blacks.  I know the day is coming when he is going to have to tell his supporters that there is not going to be a wall built between us and Mexico and I fear civil unrest when that day comes.  What can we do?

It beats hell out of me!

My annual power lunch!

 What a wonderful group of people I had assembled at my table yesterday noon!  Starting on the left is Shirley Bagby, my dear friend who moved here from Kansas City this summer.  Then Paul Gilbert my long time friend from where ever I found the little fellow.  They are talking horse talk.  Shirley used to go on lots of trail rides and Paul just bought a horse named "Speeders".  On Paul's left and standing in the background is Sister Nancy Crafton who runs Los Pobres.  The lady with the white hair is Nancy Williams, my dear friend who entices me for Bacon once a week.  On her left (and you can not see her at all  (Well, maybe her hair and 2 inches of her forehead.) is sweet little Jolene Hausman, my volunteer coordinator at hospice.  In the plaid shirt is Sister Barbara , followed by Sandy Roybal (?) who is the nurse at Los Pobres.  The empty chair is mine.

And this is Pastor Faye Gallegos who has been my dear friend since she was pastor at Christ Church longer ago than I can remember.

Once a year I like to gather like minded people together and sort of network, if you get my drift.  This year Pastor Faye brought a very special gift to be given to Los Pobres.  I forgot the horses name, but Faye's daughter bought it many years ago and cherished it. She finally decided she would like it to go to a special home and have a special owner.  Sister Nancy and Pastor Faye came up with the perfect home for the little ball of fur.  He (or she as the need arises) shall be the new entertainment for the little kids that go to Los Pobres with their parents.  While the parent(s) are talking to Sister or seeing the nurse or case worker, the children can ride across the desert or along the river or wherever they choose!  Sister has been wanting something like this for a very long time and Pastor Faye and her daughter Patty made her wish come true.

Daisy bids a fond farewell to the little rocking horse.

Well, the chicken and noodles are put away, the people have all left and the house is back empty.  This year is going to be memory very soon.  If you are a like minded person and would like to attend the next one, contact me.  We meet new friends and renew old acquaintances.  Just a day for us!

Jolene made us lovely cookies, but unfortunately  I kept them all for myself! Life sucks that way.  I am trying to post a picture of them, but that is not happening either!  Oh, wait!  There it is!  They are chocolate covered Oreos, just in case you wondered!!

Yep, I am marching onward.

Woke up his morning and had a serious thought.  Probably not my first one, but this one seemed a little morbid even to me!  My Happy Birthday is coming and while that is a cause for celebration it is also a very sobering thought.  Remember when we were young and and our birthday came and it was a milestone?   For me it was great!  When I was young that meant I took 8 or whatever number of pennies to church and stood in front of the kids and dropped the pennies one at a time into the candle bank on the table.  As each penny dropped the kids all counted;  "One!" "Two!"  Little did it matter that I had started out with pennies and I was going home with nothing.  For a few minutes I had been the center of the room.  Everyone had looked at me and sang the birthday song to me!  For a few minutes everyone was happy that I was born. 
But as I grew older the symbolism changed.  Thirteen meant I was not a teenager.  Then sweet sixteen and I never really knew what that signified.  Eighteen was the legal age of consent and shortly thereafter I married for the first time.  By my twenty-first birthday I had started my family.  By 30 I was a single mother with 5 kids.  What had started out as marking milestones was now becoming more of a habit.  The cakes got bigger and the candles got hotter.  By the time I reached 40 I was settled into what would become my middle age with my husband that would prove to be my last.  We lived a very comfortable life.  The kids left home and we adopted a grandson. 
My 60th birthday found me a widow with a pre-teen son.  It was at this time that I began toying with the idea of a "bucket list".  Now be aware that I said "toying with the idea."  An old woman with a teenage son does not have time to entertain many ideas at all.  First get him through school and out into the world and then figure out my life.  That proved almost an insurmountable task, but now it is finished.  He has a home and a new son and needless to say, a woman to replace me.  So here I set contemplating my birthday.
Let's take stock of the situation.  I have no goals set on the horizon.   I guess I do though.  Take this  morning.  It is a blessing.  I woke up, stood upright and am taking nourishment.  I have my day planned.  I am going to go buy Ziploc bags to bag up 25 pounds of  flour that was given to me to take to Los Pobres.  I am going to make a batch of cinnamon rolls to give away.  This afternoon I have a  lady  to set with so her daughter can catch a break.  I digressed there for a moment.  Back to the birthday thing.
I guess what I am trying to convey here is that when I was young and my life stretched out on an endless path before me, birthdays were important.  Now they are not.  At some point they stopped being celebrations and became more of mileposts on the way to the grave.  Every time I add a year to my age, I get closer to not having another birthday.  The good Lord in his wisdom gave us only so many years.  Some he did not give so many, but some he gave a lot.  I am afraid I am one of those to which he has given a whole lot.  I see my life behind me and I look ahead.  I see no hope of a quiet peaceful death any time soon.  The body keeps functioning and the mind keeps working and the grass keeps growing.  And I keep mowing it. 
I wish life had come with an instruction book.  But if it had, would I have read it?  If I had read it, would I have followed the instructions? I knew on some level that my first husband was going to be a mistake.  But I forged ahead.  Had I not, I would not have all my children.  I can not imagine my life without my kids.  And my grandkids.  And my great grandkids.  I have made lots of mistakes, but there is no getting the toothpaste back in the tube, as my mother used to say.  Sorry is a word that is over used because in my life "sorry" just doesn't even touch it.  But here I am, alive and well.  One of my kids tells me "What doesn't kill you makes you strong."  I expect I am one strong bitch by this time.
So, I will mark another year down the tubes and prepare for another to come.  That is how we do it here on earth.  Some day the good Lord may see fit to reach down and tap me on the shoulder.  When that happens I am going to listen this time.  And my kids will stand at my memorial and say nice things about me.  Maybe.  At least I hope so.
I remember how overwhelmed I was the day we buried my mother.  That was a lot of years ago, but the loneliness is still there.  Kids just have a special bond with their mother.  My kids  will be no different.  I hope they can take comfort in knowing that I loved them all.  I loved everyone the same; not one more than the other.  Each one was special in a special way.   At the risk of becoming morbid, I need to wind this up and go bake something.
So Happy Birthday to me!  Another one in the books as we used to say after a catering job or when one of my wedding cakes went out the door.  Enjoy this day.  Enjoy your next day.  Love your family and love your friends.  Do a good deed along the way and smile at someone on the street.  You have today.  Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.  There is no tomorrow. 

My corner of the world is getting smaller.

I woke up this morning in my little bed and lay there for a minute to think about the day ahead.  First I thought about all the shootings and the riots and it made me very sad.  I thought back to when God first made this earth and how perfect it was.  He just wanted companionship and Adam and Eve gave him that, but in typical fashion, they wanted more.  Or at least Eve did.  From the apple to Cain and Able was just a short hop and from there to now it has been all down hill.  Brad and Angelina are divorcing and if I click enough keys I can get all the dirt on that but I really don't care.  Oklahoma is arresting a police officer, but it does not change anything.  The man is still dead whether or not it was intentional or just an honest mistake, his life is gone.

The "Indigenous Tribes" are trying to stop a pipeline.  I can remember when they were Indians and they lived on reservations that were theirs given to them by our Government in exchange for all the rest of the whole United States that they thought was theirs.  What happened to that?  Oh, we needed oil.  Now I remember.  Fossil fuel is what makes our world turn.  We can get wind and solar power, but that is too clean and we will always have wind and sun, or so we think.  What I want to know is why it is only the people on the reservation trying to save our planet?  Why aren't all of us outraged that our government is completely ignoring the fact that this is THEIR land and not ours.  We only have this one earth and unless someone knows something I don't, we need to preserve it and water is just pretty necessary in that equation.

Wars are raging around the world and I have no idea why.  Wait, yes I do.  War is a matter of one person or nation imposing their will and beliefs on another person or nation.  Both sides think they are right.  For some reason our great land seems to think it is our business.  Babies are being aborted and children die from child abuse here in our country on a daily basis.  Animals are mistreated and left on chains to suffer in the back yard of a master who has no heart.  Homeless people beg for a crumb and a blanket to stave off the cold while our city fathers burn their cardboard shacks. 

Where are our peacekeepers?  Where are our Mother Teresa's?  Where are our people who care about our brothers and sisters?  Why is skin color even an issue?  Why is an accent even an issue?  Who is right and who is wrong and what difference does it make in the grand scheme of things?  But wait!  There is hope!

I remember somewhere in the far recesses of my mind a glimpse of news that a huge asteroid or something like that is hurling through space and will most assuredly crash into our dear mother earth.
Think about that!  Will it knock us out of our orbit and send us flying through space with no gravity to keep us implanted on our Terra firma?  It could happen and then would the size of your bank account make a difference?  Would your opinions matter?  Could your friends save you?  Can your fancy BMW go fast enough to save you from the apocalypse that is sure to follow?  Just some thoughts this morning.

Welcome to my world!

The bike lanes are going away!!!

Well, at least they are going away on Fifth street.  I must confess that before I leave the house and drift towards town, I say a prayer to the great white father that I encounter no bikes in town.  The streets are so screwed up with lines going here and there and bikes going both ways on one way streets and cars parked in the middle of the street that it is almost impossible to get from point A to point B without killing someone.  I waited for a car to go the other day after the light had changed and I finally figured out that I was parked.  And no where did I see a bicycle.  At no time in the last 3 years of becoming a cyclist friendly city have I even seen a bike in the lanes designed for them.   Oh, I have seen them on the sidewalk and I have seen them dart across traffic to get to the sidewalk on the other side of the street, but at no time have I seen a cyclist with their little helmets riding in the bike lanes.  Those people are rarer then the Dodo bird which was declared extinct many, many years ago. And do you want to know why?  I will tell you.

Many moons ago when I was a mere child I learned to ride a bike.  And I learned to ride a bike in traffic.  I did not learn to ride on the sidewalk because that was designed for people to walk on, hence the term side walk meant walk on the side. Side walk.  Not side ride.  It was a very simple concept.  If I was riding on the right side of the road the same as a car was driving on the right side of the road I was assured if a car wanted to pass me, the car could speed up and zip out around me.   Anything on wheels follows this rule.  When walking I walk on the left facing traffic.  I can step off the road that way and avoid getting ran over.  Simple concept.  Walk facing traffic and when driving or riding go with the flow.

In this manner I have survived 74 years without a scratch.  It is my opinion that it would have been much simpler and a whole lot cheaper to require a license on a bike and require the owner to pass a test.  Motorcyclists have to and the only difference there is that the motorcycle has a motor and the bike does not.

I understand that their are places where bikes are a major means of transportation and I think had the city fathers just studied how it was done that a lot of frustrations could have been avoided and the city would have saved a lot of money on paint.  My theory on this is that it was not broken so why did they have to fix it?

It is all becoming a blur to me!

It seems it was only yesterday that I was poking in the soil to see signs of life in Mother Earth.  The next day we were in the middle of a stretch of 100 degree days.  This morning I am wondering if I should have unhooked the hoses last night so they would not freeze.  Oh, and some where during the intervening days I recall mowing and cutting weeds and cleaning the goose house and planting seeds and wondering where they went after they came up because the garden was shoulder high in weeds last time I looked.  Spring and Summer are a complete blur. 
I meant to take a vacation and go back to Kansas, but I must have forgotten, because it did not happen.  I meant to go on several hikes, like the Manitou Incline and up Tower Trail in Beulah to get seeds from the Sage plant, but I think it is too cold up there now.  I know it is pretty chilly when I go out in the mornings and I have that dew on my car windows.  Leaves are starting to fall in the yard and spiders are making their way in through the cracks.  Where did the summer go? 
I recall one of those pattern books with the  cute little sayings that can be embroidered in cross stitch.  I actually made several of them and God only knows where they went. I could use them now.  The first one was "When you are over the hill, you pick up speed."  That is the truth if I ever told it.  Seems like some where in the far recesses of my mind I was a kid and the days crept by as slow as molasses on a cold day.  I do not recall summer or winter affecting me as far as the creature comforts of warm and cold.  I do recall walking home from school behind my older brother and sister who broke a trail through the snow.  And I recall sleeping on the floor at school because we could not get through the snow.  It must have been very cold.  I remember those damned itchy wool blankets we slept under.  I recall jumping in the creek or horse tank or a mud puddle when it was summer, so I must have been hot. 
I remember the hayloft and how hot it was up there in the summer.  Sometimes if the hay was just a little damp the pile would start smoldering and the hay would have to be pitched out on the ground to save the barn.  I also remember how warm it was in the winter.  Course I also remember the mice and the cat. There was invariably a litter of kittens which would grow up to eat the baby mice.  Also spiders.  Damned spiders were every where.  Black Widows were the scariest.  We learned early to recognize the web of the Black Widow.  It was shiny and if I touched it with a stick it would crackle.  Sent chills through my bones.  And I could always see the Widow somewhere with her round marble body, shiny black.  Sometimes I could see her dead husband trapped in her web.  She killed him after they bred and that is why she was called a black widow.  There was one that lived behind the door into the chicken house.  Very scary.
(Why does everything always revert back to Nickerson, Kansas and my childhood?)
The other thing I cross stitched was one that said "Of all the things I have lost, I miss my mind the most."  That was my mantra for many years until I decided that I had not really lost my mind, just sometimes I let it go on vacation without me!  I have been told that I should write my life story and I gave that a lot of thought, but that will not happen and here is why...
When I set down to start to write my mind wanders off.  I started to write about how fall is in the air and I had beautiful pictures in my mind, but then I started thinking about how the city fathers have now decided to remove those stupid bike lanes down on Fifth Street.  This started me thinking of how I learned to ride a bike in Nickerson, Kansas and that made me remember school there in the big two story brick building. 
I usually call this "digressing", but I guess if the truth be known, it is just the old adage "All roads lead home."  And I take great comfort in that.

I didn't understand what I was voting for that time.

I take my voting very seriously.  When I get the little booklet from the League of Women's Voters, I devour every word.  I talk to people and weigh the pros and cons.  If I am not clear what it is about, I am going to find out, you can bet your sweet bippie on that!  When the question of legalizing marijuana came to the ballot, I was very sure that I wanted a yes vote on that.  I would have been more excited had they made the legal age 25, just because by the time someone is 25 they are pretty sure what they want out of life.

I have seen what the synthetic heroine and crack cocaine and meth has done to our kids and I did not want that to continue.  The argument that Marijuana is a gateway drug is a crock.  I have seen first hand kids go straight for the meth and other drugs simply because they are very cheap and very, very easy to purchase.  My hope was that by legalizing marijuana some of that would slow down, but I don't think that is happening.  I have never done an illegal drug in my life and do not intend to start, but I can tell you this, I have dealt with kids smoking pot and they do not behave at all like those who have been doing the illegal drugs.  Ever see a kid that is so zoned out they have no idea where they are or what they are doing?  That is not marijuana!  Marijuana seems to make kids a little spacey, but it does not make them stand on a street corner staring off into outer space and drooling all  over themselves.  Most of the marijuana smokers I run into are happy little people and I would just assume they were having a really good day if it weren't for that little whiff I get that is akin to a skunk passing by outside.

I see in the Chieftain that Hasan is funding a study on marijuana and I will certainly be glad when that is done and we can see the scientific evidence of the benefits of marijuana.  Years ago I had back problems and took more pain pills than I can remember.  I recall going to work more often than not with a fog in my brain and I could hover up near the ceiling and watch myself slaving over a hot grill and smoking french fry baskets.  It is a wonder I survived that! I had back surgery and as with any surgery, more pain pills.  Today I have spasms in my back and when that happens I reach for my bottle of marijuana pain cream that I bought legally in Blende.  I do not take any pain pills and I have been told that I would not be able to pass a drug test as there is pcp or thc or something like that in my system, but I do know I do not feel it and I am clear headed, just no pain.  I refuse to take pain pills so if legal sale of marijuana goes away in Pueblo City and County I am just going to have to go back to being unable to function.

I could go on about what good the tax dollars have done for our economy along with our low unemployment rate, but I think that speaks for itself.  I just wanted to give my opinion as a human being.

The wisdom of one younger and wiser than me.

  This is Hammer, me and my daughter Debbie.  If you look at us, it appears that she is a clone of me.  Spitting image of her mother!  And the interesting part of the whole thing is we think a lot alike and seem to have the same reasoning power.

I was talking to her the other day and I commented that she had the same reasoning powers that I did and she must have inherited them from me.  At that point she told me that many years ago she had come across a paper that someone had written and that the basic rules on that sheet of paper had kept her on a steady course for her life.  She read them to me and they sounded like something might have writtem back in my early life..We do not know who wrote them, but I would love to share with all of you.  She said her copy was covered with fly poop, grease spots and water marks, but she could still read it and agreed to send it to me.  Today it arrived in my mailbox and I copied it for you.  

RULES FOR BEING HUMAN        

Author unknown

1.      1.  You will receive a body.  You may like it or hate it, but it will be yours for the entire period this time around.

2.       2.   You will learn lessons.  You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called life.  Each day in this school you will have the opportunity to learn lessons.  You may like the lessons or think them irrelevant and stupid.

3.        3.  There are no mistakes, only lessons.  Growth is a process of trial and error:  experimentation.  The “failed” experiments are as much a part of the process as the experiment that ultimately works.

4.        4.  lesson is repeated until learned.  A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it.  When you have learned it, you can then go on to the next lesson.

5.       5.  Learning lessons does not end.  There is no part of life that does not contain its lessons.  If you are alive, there are lessons to be learned.

6.        6.  “THERE” is no better than “HERE”.  When you’re “THERE” has become a “HERE, you will simply obtain another “THERE” that will again look better than “HERE”.

7.       7.  Others are merely mirrors of you.  You cannot love or hate something about another person unless is reflects something you love or hate about yourself.

8.       8.  What you make of your life is up to you.  You have all the tools and resources you need.  What you do with them is up to you.  The choice is yours.

9.      9.   Your answers lie inside you.  The answers to life’s questions lie inside you.  All you need do is look, listen and trust.

     10.  You will forget all this.

     11.   You can remember it whenever you want or need to.

      So thank you to Debbie Keisel for sending this to me so I can share it with others.  Who knows, we may make the world a better place if we try hard enough!

Keep right except to pass and do not pass in an intersection on a country road.

A couple days ago I was coming home down South Road and driving my usual 40 MPH in the 35 MPH speed zone.  Actually my speedometer is off by a couple digits, so I was driving about 38MPH.  There is a stop sign on 25th Lane and 27th Lane has a "widow maker" dip.  See out here this is how we control water. The dip is so water on the road has a way to get off the road so my car does not flood out.  I slow down so my car does not bounce.

Let me tell you about the history on this dip.  Our mailbox is on the North side of the road.  It is about 1/2 a city block from the dip.  When we first moved out here and the dip was new we lost our mailbox 2 times because people neglected to slow for the dip, became airborne and wiped out our mailbox.  The dip is clearly marked so over the years people have learned to slow down at that corner.  They also have the added attraction of seeing long black marks where brakes are applied very quickly by drivers who wake up at the last minute.  Back to my experience.

So I am driving home and stopped at 25th Lane.  A red car was behind me.  It also stopped and caught up with me very quickly.  I knew the dip was coming so I tapped the brake to slow.  Red car whipped out around me and romped on the gas.  When it hit that dip, it became airborne and then came down very hard on the road.  I heard the crash when the bottom of the car hit the pavement.  The car continued forward out of control and swerving from side to side.  By the time it got to Scalese's house it was finally under control.

Now my dear little Bret hit a dip in Pueblo West once and raised his radiator 2 inches.  He was only going 7 mph.  (snicker, snicker!)  This car was probably doing 55 when it hit the dip.  Wonder what it did to that radiator!!  I do not know exactly why I shared this with you, but I must have had a reason.  I wish I had a dash camera and I could have shown it to you.  Might make you want to drive a little more carefully out here.  I do know I just watched this video.  

CLICK HERE

I know they have this law here in Colorado, but no one pays attention to it.  Do we still have traffic enforcement?  I pass more on the right then I do on the left.  In all fairness lots of these drivers are on the phone and not really noticing what I am doing, or what they are doing either for that matter.

I could be wrong , but I think if you are going to be herding a 2000 pound vehicle down a public road you really ought to be aware of your surroundings.  I have niece's that like to text going down the road.  Real important stuff isn't it?  I do not do that because I am old and I can remember when the phone was hooked on the wall and if someone called and I did not answer they just figured I was not home.  Imagine that!  Now I call someone and Lord only knows where they are located.  They could even be in my back seat.

I guess what I am trying to tell/ask/beg people to do is this.  When you crawl in your car, leave you other obligations on the seat or in your pocket and pay attention to driving.  In a perfect world all the cars are going the same place at the same speed, but inevitably someone colors outside the lines.  In a perfect world the only fatality would be the driver with the phone in thier hand, but life does not work that way and I have come too far to be a statistic because someone else heard a phone ring, or heard a text come in, or missed that sign about "DIP".

The road to hell is paved with good intentions!

You never really know a person...

Once upon a time I was visiting with  a very wise man.  We were discussing a friend we had in common.  OK, it happened to be an ex husband of mine who had done something exceptionally stupid and I said, "Why I thought I knew him better than that!"  To which he replied, "You never know anyone.  You only know of them.  You only know what they let you see."  Good point!

I recall standing at the grave of my mothers last husband and her saying, "Who was that man?"  He had presented himself as a lonely widower with a son and a daughter and no other relation in the world.  The funeral had been well attended by brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles and a former parole officer. She never knew him.

So this morning at 4:15 AM when the eyelids opened for the day, I thought of this and I wondered, "Who do I have in this world that I really know? "  I came up with nobody.   So I took this thought to the next level and asked myself, "Who am I?  Does anyone really know me?'  Once more I came up with a negative answer.

I know some of you out there think you know me, but do you?  I may not be who you think I am.  I present a face to the public and a face to my friends that may not reveal the depths of my soul.  I appear to be very well adjusted, compassionate, caring, honest, giving, kind and so many other things, but you know little about the person who lives in this body.  I have lots of friends, but do I?  What is a friend?  When I am lonely, who do I turn to for companionship?  Who do I trust with  my deepest secrets?  When the dark abyss of the deepest recesses of my mind cry out for comfort, who do I reach for?  When I am sinking in despair at the long road ahead, who reaches to lift me up?

When your phone rings and I am on the other end and I ask, "Whatcha' doing?"  Is this really what I mean or am I saying "I am so lonely I can not think straight.  I am sinking in depression.  Save me!"   The sad part of life is that no matter how transparent people seem to be, they are not.

I have learned that depression is depression.  It comes.  It stays.  It lifts and it leaves, but it comes back.  How is depression lived with every day?  I do not know, but I do know it is fairly common in this day and age.  I read one article that said, "Depression is like a big black dog that is always there and when he lays on you, you can not get him off and you can not move."  I guess that sort of explained it for me.

I guess the point I am trying to make here is that we should always make the effort to be kind to each other because we never know what is going on in another person's life and mind.  Watching a baby at play may make someone happy, but it may make someone sad.  A cheery, "Good morning!" may make one person feel special, and make the next one think you are nuts.  So what is the answer?  I do not have it, for all my years of experience.

My advice?  Keep plugging away.  All that glitters is not gold.  Everything that goes up, must come down.  Let a smile be your umbrella.  And most importantly,

You cannot sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself!

The good old days are alive and well in Florence, Colorado.

When we went fishing the other day in Florence at the Founders Park, we happened to stumble upon this little artifact.  For those of you who have grown up with tiled floors and enameled fixtures in your bathroom, you are in for a rude awakening.  This is what is known as an outhouse.  The out house is a little house behind the big house where you lived.  We have come a long ways since these days and I did not even dream there were still such things around.  Here is living proof.

This is the floor of said outhouse.  Now be aware that beneath this floor is a very messy pit where human waste is/was collected.  I do not know if this is a working outhouse and I did not step inside and peer down the hole so I can not even venture a guess.  No, I am curious, but not that curious!

The wood looks old and weathered enough to make me think this is the authentic outhouse, but since there was no sign of a homestead any where near here, I think it was placed here more as a piece of history.

And there you nave the bench upon which one perched to do one's business.  I myself would be scared to assume that position since I am deathly afraid of spiders and I am pretty sure this would be a perfect place for one to lurk.  Probably a very large family of the arachnids could be located under that bench.

So, kiddies, what do you think?  I do know that visiting this little building the other day sort of knocked my longing for the good old days right in the keester.  I long for the tranquility that came with the life we lived back then such as no ringing phone, no blaring television,  no interstate outside my door, but I have become quite accustomed to running water, both hot and cold, and the gentle swish of water when I flip the chrome handle of my pretty white commode.   I can stand for hours under the hot shower and never miss that aluminum tub on Saturday nights.

Yep, I have become a slave to modern conveniences.  And so it goes.

I thought I was the adult here!! My mistake.

Yesterday I drove myself to Florence to go fishing with Bret, Amanda and the baby.  As you can see Bret and I were busy with the fine art of casting and Amanda was documenting our outing.  Now you all know what happened here!  This innocent little baby of 6 tender months, is the worlds youngest photobomber!!  And he looks so harmless!  I can see what he is thinking.  "Oh, they are busy catching my dinner and mommy wants a picture!  Pick me, mommy!  Pick me."

Course about as soon as he jacked up the picture of mother and son in a bonding adventure, he went to sleep!

The scenery was fantastic.  Here is a picture of the fish Bret caught.  Now that is one big fish!

Here is mine that I did not catch!

The restrooms we used and the one we did not!

Amanda is in charge of packing and unpacking the car loaded with things to make the little Jiraiya's life most comfortable.  Bret and my job was to eat chicken apparently.

Kind of a water fall here.  We were at the Florence Water Park.

  I got home about 3:00 and the miles per gallon on the dash reported in at 49.7.  Can't get much better than that!

Life is Good!

I have been farther then I have left to go!

I woke up this morning thinking about how many family members, friends, and just acquaintances I have attended funerals or memorial services for.  Do not ask me for a number, because the figure would make both our minds reel   And this is not to discount the services I did not attend for one reason or another.  I guess this all started forming in my little mind last week when I was up on the mountain with a friend and he wanted me to see a water fall higher up the trail.  Little cars like mine only go so high on rocky roads so we had to walk a ways.  So off we started.

Pretty soon I was huffing and puffing like "the little engine that could" did in that book I used to read to the kids.  I thought we were probably almost to the top and turned around to look back at where the car was.  Hell!  I could still read the small print on my bumper sticker!  We were 7 minutes into our hike and I was pretty sure it was going to be a long day, but with him cheering me on and by sheer determination on my part I made it a few more yards.  I looked back at the car and back up at the mountain.  I knew who was going to win this one and it was not me!  I muttered something about being a little out of shape and the dear soul took pity on me.  He was not going to make me march all the way to the top of Mount Princeton or wherever we were. ( I think he knew who would be carrying my lifeless body back down and he was not really up to that task.)

He left me setting on a rock and came back very soon to tell me that there was a beautiful view right around the bend in the road.  Thank the Lord for small favors.  So we spent a little time enjoying the babbling brook and just communing with nature.  The glory of the mountains is the serenity and the closeness of God.  There is no need for conversation with the majesty of the beautiful Rocky Mountains surrounding you.  It is something I wish everyone in the world could enjoy for just a little while.  It is a peace that stays with me for a very long time when I come home.

So once more, with my feet firmly planted on the terra firma of my flatland home, I can access the situation that brought me to the realizations I face this morning. 
#1.  I am fat and out of shape.
#2.  I am, while I hate to use the term "old", definitely over the hill and picking up speed.
#3.  The beautiful vistas of my home state of Colorado may best be viewed from the passenger seat of an air conditioned car parked on one of the scenic overlooks the National Forest Service built for my enjoyment.
#4.  The rod and reel I bought when I got my fishing license (which is also another story) may just stay over there in the corner because I may not be agile enough to climb up and down the banks of any river where said fish may be located!

But once more I have digressed, but would you really expect anything less of me?  No!  And therein lies the beauty of why you continue to read these blogs!  You think I may actually someday say something worth repeating.

Peace to all of you and may the road that lies before you be one you are eager to travel!

Saturday afternoon activity at my house.

 Yesterday I decided I was hungry for Molasses Cookies.  So I proceeded to make a batch of cookie dough.  Having a lovely Kitchen Aid stand mixer sure makes my life easier.  Thank you, Cindy Kerr Darrow!  Molasses cookies have to set in the refrigerator for at least an hour so the flavors meld.

Now while I was making the dough, Elvira and Icarus were sleeping soundly in my chair.  They like to do that, you know.

Daisy much prefers to stretch out on her foam mattress .

 

You can see activity at my house has reached a brand new low.  

 Which did not last very long since the smoke detector decided to start beeping and I am really not sure which one of the 6 it was that was beeping at me.  As you know, life is never easy in my world.  The first challenge in this little chore was to find the ladder.  I have 9 foot ceilings which always helps.  After a trip to the tin shed and no luck, I made a trip to the garage with no luck.  So into the closet I went with no luck.  Second trip to all the usual places and there it was where it belonged in the tin shed.

So here I set on Sunday morning.  Some of them take AA and some take D and it seems that I bought a big supply of AAA which fit absolutely nothing.  So I shall give this up until after church when I will go to Sam's and buy battery's , hot dogs and buns, and whatever else I need. 

For the record I want to say my life is good!  The cookies were good!  It is just the batteries that are dead around here.

Peace!

Sad, Sad little dog!

It is apparent that my house is a flop house for all the animals.  Here you see Elvira who is on top of 2 pillows with her head down on the floor.  She appears to be defromed, but she is not.  She is just very damned lazy.

This shows Icarus up on the buffet and the visiting Woody on the bed down below.

Here is Icarus at her finest!

And Icarus and Daisy so tired they are sleeping on a bare, hard floor.  Where did I go wrong? 

I see people with animals all alert and protecting thier masters.  Not so around here.  The geese do occasionally honk, but even they can not be depended upon to rouse me in case of a crazed killer charging my property.  

Well, I guess they do hold the kids down!

And Daisy is good for a laugh!

Life is good.

Sure been hot here lately.

To be real honest, it has been hotter then hell!  My central air keeps the house just the right temperature, which started me to wondering what we did back in the days before air conditioning was an everyday necessity.  I do not remember us even having the luxury of a fan.  When we went to church there were little card board fans in the music racks.  Remember them?  Usually they had some sort of advertising printed on them.  Most often it was from the local mortuary. School started in September usually right after the Kansas State Fair left Hutchinson, Kansas headed for Oklahoma.  By then the summer had lost its grip and fall was near.  School let out in May when it was just starting to get hot, so we did not suffer much in school.

But what about at home?  There were windows on all sides of the house and they were open as far as the could open to get a cross ventilation.  It must have worked because I do no remember being overly hot, ever.  We played under the trees and we could always  sneak off and find a creek some where and dangle our feet in the water and hope an old snapping turtle did not come along.

I can remember momma having a scarf tied around her head to keep the sweat out of her eyes.  What I am neglecting to tell you is that back then we cooked on a wood stove in the kitchen, so we had the added heat of a fire in the stove when it was already hot enough to choke us.  Course I do not remember a lot of cooking going on except on Sundays.  I am not sure what we ate through the week, but we must have eaten something and I am sure mother cooked something.  You can not feed 8 people and not cook.  I do remember mother used to give us a "sugar teet" when we had sugar.  That was our idea of a real treat.  She took a small piece of fabric and put a spoonful of sugar in the center and then pulled up the edges and tied a cord around it.  We chewed on that and thought we really had something. It is amazing that back then I did not even know we were poor, but I look back now in sheer horror.  How did we survive?  Why did we even want to?  My mother had to be the strongest woman in the world to eke an existence for her family out of absolutely nothing.

What amazes me more than anything is that I set here in my air conditioned house with the television playing in the background and my car outside waiting to take me some where.  I have 2 freezers downstairs full of food, money in the bank, clothes in the closet and I think back to Nickerson, Kansas, as the good old days and thank God for giving me those memories.  I only remember being happy.  I do not remember being hot, or cold, or hungry, or lonely.  I have a very happy memory of a coat my mother made out of something she took apart.  It was a bedspread or something and it was a light aqua color.  Dolly Partin had her coat of many colors, but I had my coat of corduroy.  I do not remember much about any other clothes I had, but I am sure I had them.  We wore little dresses back then.  Even when we worked in the fields, we wore dresses.

Yep.  I do not care what anyone thinks, those were my good old days. They were the days when I did not have to worry about anything of anyone.   I have always deluded myself into thinking that it did not matter that we were poor, because everyone was poor, but  that is not true.  People were poor, yes, but we were dirt poor. Facing the reality of that has just taken place in the last few years.  Some times it makes me sad.  I wish I had told my mother what a wonderful job she did when she was here to tell, but I did not.  If I had been just half the woman my mother was I could have changed the world.

Life would be best lived in reverse.

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: School lunch

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: School lunch: I woke up in the middle of a dream this morning.  It might be more accurate to say "My nightmare woke me up!"  I dreamed it was t...

School lunch

I woke up in the middle of a dream this morning.  It might be more accurate to say "My nightmare woke me up!"  I dreamed it was the first day of school and I was trying to make a check out for school lunches.  I knew I had 5 kids and lunches were $3.29 each, but Patty would not eat meatloaf so I would need to pack her a lunch that day, whatever day that was.  Debbie wanted to take her lunch and she only ate mashed potatoes on home made bread.  Donna, Sam and Susie were happy just to eat.  I was out of cat food and the dogs were barking their heads off about some silly thing or another and I better get out of this bed or I was going to be late for work. I was very relieved to open my eyes and look up at my lavender ceiling and remember that my kids were grown and gone and I was alone here on my acre.  Well, not happy to be alone, but very happy to remember that I had raised my kids and they had raised theirs and school lunches were no longer a daily problem for me to face.  Maybe I was dreaming I was my mother.  God sends me those dreams a lot!

I remember growing up on Strong Street and Mother would be frustrated and she would say "I hope some day you get married and have a bunch of kids and they all behave just like you!"  In later years I was to tell her that the curse worked.  I had  5 kids, just like she did; 1 boy and 4 girls.  I had always thought I was such a sweet little thing growing up, but here were these 5 kids and they were the busiest kids I had ever seen.  What I had done growing up, was called survival and as I look back I guess they were doing the same.

We had run the dirt roads in our bare feet and our idea of fun was a clod fight.
My kids egged the neighbors house.

Jake decided one day to bring his 22 rifle and see how close he could come to the top of my head.
My kids took 10 month old Susie down to Cow Creek to baptize her one night before I got home from work.

I watched a Black Widow spider hatch babies behind the door of the chicken house.
My kids gave the cat a bath.

I smoked Catalpa beans.
They stole the neighbors flowers.

I used to run across the top of the pig sty's at the neighbors house and upset the old hogs.
Don't think the kids topped that one.

We used to spy on Hank Wingate when he milked his goat.
My kids watched Saturday morning cartoons.

Howard Fein used to make his false teeth jump out at me and scare the livin' pee wadding out of me.
My kids cleaned their room by shoving every thing under the bunk beds and pulling the top sheet down to the floor.

So, now these many years later I am still haunted by my mother's curse.  I wonder if I every cursed my kids like that and scarred them for life?  I must have because I had 5 kids on my own and they have produced 8 total.  I have 8 grand kids that sprang directly from my loins (This is not to count the step, adopted and foster) and my grandchildren have given me a total of ...OK, this is where I lose count.  I adopted a grandson who became my son who now has a son that is legally my  grandson, but if he were not my son, this would be my great grandson.  So when you ask me how many grand kids I have I will tell you 20 grand kids and a lot of great grand kids. And it is way to early in the day to start off confused when all I wanted to tell you was about the school lunches.

And there, dear people, is the reason I am screwed up like I am.  It is the curse my mother put on me all those years ago.  She did, before her death, apologize many times and I told her many times that it was quite alright because I have a good life and my kids survived my raising them.  Of course I sometimes hear them recounting the memories of growing up in Hutchinson and Garden City  and I wonder how they survived my raising them!

Sorry, kids, but momma did the best she could with the knowledge she had at that time.  Sam taught me that.

Good Morning World!

Just want to open my eyes and say that!  It is before 6:00 AM and I do not have the news on yet, although AOL news let me know that the world's oldest manatee turns 100.  How they know that beats hell out of me, but be sure it is way better news then I am going to get when I turn the silly television on and watch Hillary and Donald, both frothing at the mouth because the other one is a total asshole.  "Vote for me, because I am the lesser of the two evils!"  I ask you, is this how to run an election?

Oh, and over on the side lines we have the Bernie supporters who are not going to give up on Bernie because he will change the world.  I am sick of hearing it all and we are still 3 full months away from going into the voting booth, if we actually get to do that any more.  I forget the last time I drove over to Pleasantview and walked out with my little  "I voted" sticker.

Democratic, Republican, Libertarian, Independent and whoever else is running for the highest office in this land, you all need to know something up front.  I am not voting for the candidate that is put forth by whatever party simply because that is my party.  I am not voting for the one who has the latest dirt on the other candidate.  I am not voting   for the candidate who screams the loudest, uses the dirtiest words, or points a finger upward and declares, " I am running because I beleive in God and I will bring our country back to God!"  God did not nominate any of you.

I do not want to know what Hillary did in her emails, because all of them do the same thing.  I do not want to know that Trump's wife plagurized Michelle Obama or that he screwed people out of money.  What I want to know is did any of you read the constitution?  Did any of you study our history from the time we set foot on this shore and seen this country through the eyes of the immigrants in Ellis Island?  Do you know what Ellis Island is and what it represented to those people?  Do you understand that WE were the immigrants?  Do you know how many Indians we massacred to get to where we are today?

Did you study what the slaves, brought here in the bellies of ships owned by slave traders endured?  Did you study how they were auctioned off like so many cattle in public squares and sold to men owning big plantations that needed free labor?  Did you know that when babies were born they became the property of the "Massa"?  Did you study how many souls were lost in the Civil War on both sides of the battle? Did you know it was illegal for a slave to know how to read or write?

Do you remember John F. Kennedy?  Did you study the Civil Rights movement at all?

Do you know what the Stonewall Rebellion is about?

Does World Trade mean anything to you?

What is fracking?

What are GMO's.

Why do we pay property taxes?

Why is Black Hills Energy allowed to gouge people that are unable to pay?

What are we going to do about the homeless people that are seen daily on our streets?

Why is the pharmacuetical industry not checked on thier prices?

Why is medical care so high?

What about the pet population?

What about the illegal drugs that are killing our kids?

I could go on all day, but the bottom line is this...I do not give a rat's ass if Hillary spent her money on a dress from wherever and I am going to look at what her record actually is, not what the spin doctors tell me.  The state of Donald Trump's hair and whether or not he has ever been faithful to anything or anyone is none of my business.  Until we, as a people, stand up and demand decency from the highest leaders of the land  we might as well forget that there is an election coming up and set in our little pile of shit and stay comfortable.  As long as we stay in that pile it is warm, it is when we try to get out of it that we get cold and uncomfortable and realize what a stinking mess we are in today.

Debbie told me that.

Happiness is a BLT and a trip past Linger Longer Lane.

This is the Rye Café from the inside out!

And this is the menu

Here are a couple shots of the interior.  Real homey place

And a  look out the back door.

This is the BLT, or what is left of it that Nancy and I traveled to Rye specifically to eat.  Whoops!  That is a lie.  This is the muffin she ate after.  I did not take a picture of the BLT, but I can tell you this, it was wonderful.  Crisp Bacon, crisp lettuce, ripe tomatoes and just the right amount of Mayonnaise served on freshly baked slices of French Bread.  It was well worth the trip.

After we ate we drove around and checked out the scenery.  Rye sure has that.  And look at this sky.

And on our way down we saw this sign and I had to make a U-turn and go back and make sure I seen it correctly.  I would love to Linger Longer on Linger Longer Lane!

So take it from, an old bacon eater from way back, this is the place to go.  And if you get a chance see if you can find Linger Longer Lane.  It may very well be a figment of my imagination!

Barefeet and chicken poop.

When my daughter, Dona Marie, came to see me over Mother's Day, she gave me a pedicure.  I have always had rather pretty feet, or so I think.  She did a beautiful job and finished off with a very nice massage and pink polish on the nail part.  A very wonderful Mothers Day gift in my opinion and I do thank her for that.  Wish she lived with me!
I must confess that due to the development of a little problem called Morton's Neuroma, my second toe now has a tendency to want to point skyward.  Not only is this uncomfortable but it detracts from the beauty of my foot.  It also sometimes makes walking long distances a real challenge.  Nonetheless, it is what it is and until I can carve out a block of time when I do not need my foot,  I will live with the condition.  I suppose I can just cut a hole in the top of my shoe and let toe #2 poke out into the outside world, but I am not quite ready to go that route.  It would definitely be a conversation starter, or a very awkward moment when making new acquaintances.  I am missing the point here.
Fast backward to Nickerson, Kansas 65 years ago.  Plus or minus on that.  We lived on a dirt road without benefit of running water and bath night occurred on Saturday night.  Now since we were basically heathens running the streets and did not attend church, I do not know why Saturday night was special.  I do not remember if I have explained that bath situation to you or not, but I will touch on it briefly.  Bath time consisted of a round metal tub which mother filled with water heated on the stove.  Baby Dorothy was always first since she was little.  Then Mary followed by Donna and then me.  By this time the water was getting a little gray and had a scum on top which gave a whole new meaning to "bath."  I do not remember how, when or where the older kids took their baths, but I strongly suspect Jake was a river rat.  Josephine must have privacy because she had actual breasts! Mom and dad were always a mystery to me.
So back to the feet.  In the fall we all got a brand new pair of shoes for the first day of school.  There were 2 days a year that were sacred.  Every Sunday and the first day of school  Money was saved all year so when it came time momma would set down with dad and open the Sears and Roebuck catalog.  The middle of the catalog was where there was an outline of a foot and we each took a turn at standing on the outline while mother figured out our size.  Louella-size 4, Donna-size 3...you get the idea.  Then we were given a choice of color.  We could have brown or black.  My God!  I remember when saddle oxfords came into being and how bad I wanted a pair.  They were white with black or white with brown.  I might as well have wanted the moon.  Brown it was for me and brown for all the other kids so one did not feel privileged.  Now comes the part you are not going to believe. 
When the order was all filled out with size and color (brown) the total amount owed plus the postage was figured and the amount was carefully counted out, placed in an envelope and sealed.  The amount was written on the outside along with the name and address the shoes should be sent to when ready.  This money was placed inside the order blank which was placed in the envelope from the Sears and Roebuck catalog and mailed off to the head office.  There was never a question about whether it was safe to send money through the mail or not.  That was just how it was done.  Then we began the wait for our shoes to come.  It usually took 5-6 weeks and the day they arrived was like the second coming!  Our shoes were here!  Of course we were allowed to try them on, but we had to wash our feet first and be sure they were dry.  Then they were placed carefully under the bed to await the first day of school. 
I can recall how proud we were as we traipsed off to school in our new shoes.  And we wore those shoes until about the first of March.  By then our feet had grown enough that our shoes were getting tight.    At that point, Josephine went shoeless, and I stepped into her "hand me downs".  They were a little too big, but I tied them tight and they stayed on my feet pretty much.   My shoes were handed down to Donna, Donna's to Mary and you get the picture.  By summer we were all through with shoes and we ran barefoot every where we went. 
Did I tell you we had chickens running loose in the yard along with Muscovy Ducks?  Kansas is hot, humid and the soil in Nickerson was mostly dust.  I guess you would call it sandy.  Of course!  That is where they pick Sand Hill Plums by the bushel basket!  I can recall running my toes down into the sand  and thinking that this was surely heaven.  We ran barefooted across fields and through the cemetery and into Bull Creek.  Of course we ran through the chicken poop and the duck poop.  We were kids, that was what we did.  When bedtime came there was one rule and that was we HAD to wash our feet before we got into bed.  And we did.  There was a basin in the kitchen and momma made sure we went to bed with clean feet.  To this day, no matter where I am, or what I have been doing, my feet are going to be clean before I go to bed.  Usually I have socks on all day, but not always shoes, so my feet are not dirty, but unless I am dead tired my feet are going to get a quick rinse, just in case there might be a little dust or goose poop on them!  One can not be too careful you know.
When I write about my days of long ago I get very nostalgic.  I miss my momma and I guess I always will.  I miss the old home place although it is no longer there.  I guess what I miss most is that I had someone to take care of me and someone who had to love me.  When I was young all I wanted was to get older and get out on my own.  I wish I knew then what I know now!  I really think life would be much better lived in reverse.