Momma Goose has taken a new husband.

 You are getting the first look at Momma Goose's new mate.  We shall call him Momma's new husband.  No one was more surprised then me when I went out there this evening and found the 2 of them over by the Russian Olive tree.  Her late husband was such a debonair fellow that I thought he would be very hard to replace.  I have 2 Emiden ganders and they were both pretty short on feathers after the last breeding season, but this little guy must have sized up the situation and grew some feathers.  He knew if he was going to replace her late husband that he was going to have to do something and he did.  Damn I am proud of him.

Here he is following her back into the corner so they can look for bugs in the leaves back there.  Hard to believe that he was so scrounging looking yesterday!  Guess there is nothing like the love of a good female to bring out the best in any man.  This next picture cracks me up.

Here he is guarding her while she dings around.  He needs to know that this is how her last mate met his fate with the wily  fox.  But it looks like he might have a little back up there. 

That is his brother.  Maybe the two of them can keep her in one piece.

So for tonight there is peace out here on South Road and Momma Goose is snuggled down with her new mate.  Yes, there is a goose God up there somewhere.

RIP First Husband.

I have them eating out of my hand...well, drinking out of my hand.

This is momma goose.  She has been setting on rotten eggs ever since her husband was brutally killed May 16.  I know it only takes 27-28 days, but she seems to be happy doing it so I let her.  I pull weeds for her and take her fresh water several times a day.  When she does not want any more water she makes a sort of guttural sound and I do not press her.  She never hisses at me and is always glad to see me, so I just let her set on the eggs that will never hatch and are probably dried up by now.  At least I hope so.

This is sister goose.  I am not sure who her husband is.  I think it is the African Gray named Johnny that Bret helped out of his shell many years ago.  But in all fairness I do her hanging out with the big Chinese gander and the old African Gray.  Truth be known, I think she is a bit of a slut.  Goose slut.

She is always ready for fresh water, but unlike momma goose, she hisses at me.  I think she could inflict some pain because I see very sharp teeth in that beak of hers!  Oh, the other day I gave them watermelon and they really liked that.  Eats that right out of the hand, she does.  Guess I should get some more.  They are on sale at LaGrees.  I can eat the leftovers.

Now, I am not sure if her eggs are any good or not.  Guess time will tell.  She has about worn her eggs out moving them.  I think she is supposed to just turn them once a day, but she moved her whole  nest about 2 feet to the south.  Who am I to know?  I do know that something should happen in the next week.  If I do not hear peeping by the 7th of July I am going to be the big mean woman and rake up the straw in the goose house, sweep the floor and put new straw down.  That is going to tick them off I am sure, but I know momma goose will forgive me.  Sister may be another story!

Wish me luck!

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Liberal? Conservative? Or just plain mean?

Why is it that people do not hear what I say?  I try to be clear, but before  the words are out of my mouth they have that aghast look on their face and are pissed off because I advocate taking their guns away!  That seems to be a lot of people's biggest fear in the world today.  Not hunger.  Not health care.  Not animal cruelty and certainly not the fact that Monsanto is poisoning our food and they do not even have to tell us.

I made a statement like "I think if a person is over sedated with anti depression pills and on the FBI wanted list or under investigation, they should not be allowed to purchase an assault rifle without a waiting period."  Silly me!  That is not an assault rifle and I should know the difference between an assault rifle and an automatic rifle.  I do know this, call it what you will I am not going to believe for one minute you need one of those to hunt a rabbit!  Nor do you need one to protect your home from the dreaded intruder.  If you set around every night with one of those on your lap waiting for Mr. Bad Guy to kick in your door, you have a real problem and all the fire power in the world is not going to save you.  Or maybe you have friends that you might want to take a closer look at.

I am a Liberal.  I have always been a Liberal and I am pretty sure that when my time comes I will die a Liberal.  I am also pretty sure my funeral will be pretty well attended by other Liberals as well as Conservatives, Gays, Blacks, Chicanos, a few Indians, animal lovers, Illegal Immigrants, Catholics, Protestants and if I am real lucky, Westboro Baptist Church will send protesters!

I realize you have every right to your gun and I think you should have it.  You need it.  You need it as part of the well regulated Militia  that this country needs to survive.  And I am sure you need lots of guns.  You can only shoot one at a time, but be sure you keep all of them.  I sure do not want any of them.  I will defend your right to carry one also, but know this, if you are behind me in the line at the grocery store with your gun under your shirt and a "bad guy" walks in with his AR-15 or whatever intent on shooting up the store, please step out of line before you pull your gun to save me because I do not want to be caught in the crossfire.

 I am sure my God has a plan for me and when it is my time, he will let me know and I sincerely hope that when my time comes I am in my little bed dreaming of a peaceful world where everyone has health care, a full belly at night, shade in the field, and a roof over their head.  I do not want to be displayed on the 6:00 o'clock news covered with blood and laying on a cold tile floor next to you with your gun in your hand.  Just grant me that!

I realize I have probably made enemies with this missive, but so be it.  I respect your right to have what ever firearms you want in your personal space, please respect my right to think thier should be some sort of laws in place to protect us from the crazies.  Kind of like saying, "You go to your church and I'll go to mine, but let's both walk along together."

Full text of my speech in case you missed it last night.

MY NAME IS LOU MERCER.  I STAND BEFORE YOU AS THE PROUD MOTHER OF A GAY SON.  I STAND BEFORE YOU AS THE PROUD SISTER OF A LESBIAN.  I STAND BEFORE YOU AS THE PROUD AUNT OF A GAY NIECE.  MY LEGION OF FRIENDS ARE GAY.AND I STAND PROUDLY TONIGHT AS ONE WHO HAS WORKED TIRELESSLY TO HAVE MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY ACCEPTED AND PROTECTED IN THIS GREAT COUNTRY OF OURS.

I WAS THERE TO DEFEAT AMENDMENT 2.  I WAS THERE TO SEE GAY MARRIAGE BECOME A REALITY.  I WAS THERE TO SEE GAY ADOPTIONS.  I SEE GAY REPRESENTATIVES  AND SENATORS AND GOVERNORS AND MAYORS AND MINISTERS.  I HAVE MARCHED IN GAY PRIDE PARADES , BUT TONIGHT I STAND BEFORE YOU AS A HUMAN BEING MOURNING THE LOSS OF MY FELLOW HUMAN BEINGS IN A SENSELESS KILLING.

HE KNEW NONE OF HIS VICTIMS.  MORE WILL COME OUT AS THEY INVESTIGATE THIS MURDER THAT IS NOW BEING KNOWN AS THE LARGEST LOSS OF LIFE IN A KILLING ON UNITED STATES SOIL BY A SINGLE GUNMAN.   I HAVE HEARD HE PLEDGED HIS LOYALTY TO ISIS WHICH MEANS THEY CAN TIE HIM TO THE MUSLIM COMMUNITY.

NO!  NO!  WE ARE NOT GOING TO ACCEPT THIS.  CALL IT WHAT IT IS….A HOMOPHOBIC ASSHOLE THAT WANTED TO KILL GAYS.  OUR COUNTRY IS IN A DOWNWARD SPIRAL BECAUSE THE LAWS WE WORKED SO HARD TO PUT INTO PLACE ARE BEING HELD UP AND RIDICULED BY DONALD TRUMP AND HIS FOLLOWERS.  HE IS BEING HELD UP BY SO CALLED CHRISTIANS THAT POINT OUT TO US DAY AFTER DAY THAT ACCORDING THE BIBLE, HOMOSEXUALITY IS A SIN.  DO THESE PEOPLE EVEN READ THE BIBLE?  I THINK NOT.

THE NEW TESTAMENT SET ASIDE ALL THE OLD LAWS SUCH AS BURNING A CALF ON THE ALTER, MARRYING YOUR BROTHERS WIDOW , AND GOD FORBID YOU EAT SHRIMP!  HOMOSEXUALITY IS NOT EVEN DISCUSSED IN THE NEW TESTAMENT AND MOST IMPORTANTLY TO ME….JESUS CHRIST NEVER ADDRESSED THE SUBJECT.

SO LETS JUST CALL THIS WHAT IT IS, A BIGOTED PERSON WANTED TO SHOOT QUEERS AND HE DID IT! 

I AM HERE TONIGHT FOR ONLY ONE REASON AND THAT IS TO ASK US ALL TO COME TOGETHER AND REMEMBER STONEWALL.  REMEMBER WHEN THE POLICE RAIDED THE GAY CLUB AGAIN AND THE PATRONS SAID “NO MORE!”  WE HAVE COME A LONG WAYS WITH PEACEFUL RESISTANCE AND WE CAN NOT NOW BOW DOWN AND GO BACK IN THE CLOSET   WE ARE OUT!  WE ARE PROUD!  AND WE ARE NOT GOING TO BACK DOWN FROM THIS ADVERSITY. 

WE ARE IN AN ELECTION YEAR AND WE NEED TO VOTE AND WE NEED TO VOTE WISELY.  RESEARCH YOUR CANDIDATES AND PUT YOUR “X” WERE YOUR MOUTH IS.

GOD LOVES EVERYONE OF US JUST AS WE ARE.  UNFORTUNEATLY HE GAVE THE HUMAN RACE FREE WILL AND A LOT OF PEOPLE CHOOSE TO TRY TO IMPOSE THEIR FREE WILL ON US, BUT, HONEY, IT AIN’T HAPPENING ON OUR WATCH!!!

Do you remember when you first remember?

I have reached a new plateau in my morning thought process.  Usually I wake up and remember what day it is and then begin to remember what all I have planned for the day.  Well today was just a little different.  I woke up and tried to remember how far back I could actually remember.  I remember when Dorothy was born.  Mother had to stay in bed 10 days.  Seems like it was harvest and dad was pretty upset that he actually had to hire someone to drive the grain truck into town.  We lived on the Stroh place at that time.  That would have meant I was 5 years old.  Oh, I bet I was so cute!  Not sure because I do not ever remember anyone saying, "Oh, what a cute little girl!"  I remember them asking Momma, "Wow!  How many kids do you have?"  I was named after my Paternal Grandmother, who I never met.  Or at least, I do not remember if I did.

I remember an aunt and uncle coming for a visit and they were rich because they had a car!  I also remember when it came time for them to leave that the uncle sat at the steering wheel with the aunt in the passenger seat and dad "cranked" the motor to get it to fire.  I often wondered just how that worked if there was no one to turn the crank.  Did Auntie in her finery and feathery hat do it?  A mystery indeed.

I can vaguely remember the day my dad brought home a Shetland pony named Star.  That horse came out of the trailer kicking and I do not think he ever stopped.  I was terrified of that damned horse.  He was brown and white and I could see him watching me and I knew if I got close he would send me flying.  My dad had been in the Cavalry and had been bitten on his upper arm by a horse and carried the scar his entire life.  To this day I live in mortal terror that a horse will bite me if I get too close.  Ito was the one exception.

I do not remember being flogged by the geese when I wandered into thier pen.  Mother did.  I do not remember Jake whacking me on the head with a turnip, but she did.  I do remember when the cow died and dad had to pull it down to the pasture, cover it with some sort of fuel and light it on fire because there was an epidemic of anthrax and "you just never know and it is better to be safe then sorry."  The government told us that.

I remember Momma getting out the stamp books when she went to the store because the government only allowed us to buy so much sugar, gasoline and other thing that were "rationed".  I do not remember having a Christmas in the Stroh house, but we must have.  I remember my step brother, Gene Bartholomew coming for a visit once.  He came with someone in a fancy car that did not need cranked.  He was just out of the Army and he was very handsome and smelled very good.  He only stayed a little while and then I remember talk of "prison", "forgery", and a "damn long stretch ahead of him."  He remained in my memory and in my life for the next 10 years.  He wrote me from prison and I answered all his letters.  He wrote in Calligraphy which I guess made him a very good at forgery.  I saw him once when I was about 16.  He left to hitch hike to Oregon, was arrested in Nebraska for "vagrancy", given a ride to the outskirts of some little town and disappeared off the face of the earth.  Some loose ends we just never get to tie up.

I have to interject here about my father and how he ended up with kids we never knew.  My dad was much older then my Mother.  He had been married before and they had 5 children.  A son and daughter had died during the great depression leaving them with 3 sons.  William Eugene Bartholomew, Richard Bartholomew, and Earl Bartholomew.  For whatever reason his wife died.  He put the boys in an orphange because he could not care for them and had no family members that could help.  Richard and Earl were adopted.  Gene was not.  Richard and Gene were both in World War II and both were "shell shocked" when they got out.  Richard was more affected then Gene, but neither of them were ever productive members of society.  I do know Gene married and had a son.  As I recall the son's name was Billy.  I expect it was William Eugene Bartholomew.  He may have children, but who knows and I do not know how to find out.

Well, I got a little side tracked there.  Some other things I remember about the Stroh place years are good memories.  Like herding the old cow along the road so she could eat grass and then when it was time to bring her home I would grab her tail and she would run for the barn.  Of course I got in trouble because she would not "let her milk down" after that little jaunt.

I remember Donna poking her finger in a turtles mouth and the turtle would not let go and if dad cut the head off the turtle it still would not let go "until the sun goes down."  Poor Donna!

I remember the old yellow tomcat bringing a baby chicken to mother and I remember my horrified mother demanding Jake take that cat into the woods and kill it for killing her chicken.  Wonder how I slept that night?

I remember playing in a mud puddle by the house and how much fun it was when the water tried up and left little crunchy dried pieces of mud where it used to be.  Those were fun to walk on barefooted.

I remember mom holding me under her arm and washing my hair under the pump on the back porch.  Josephine pumped as fast as she could and I recall that water was so damn cold!

I remember "haircutting day"  when some lady would come and set us on a chair, put a bowl over my head and cut whatever was below the bowl off and that was a "bowl haircut."

I remember being in first grade and we surely lived there then, but I do not remember walking to school.  I remember walking to the store alone the first time from that house.

I remember Jake hanging out down on the river with a guy named "Blackie Joe" (?) and I remember the beautiful silver bracelet Jake gave me that he helped make, but I do not remember what I did with it.

I remember so much, but I do not remember what we ate.  I do not remember ever being cold.  I do not remember if we had furniture or an icebox, or what I wore for clothes.

I do remember being sad because we were leaving that house.  The saddest part is, I do not know where we lived before the Stroh place.  I do not know so much and the saddest part of all is there is no one I can ask.  Being the oldest sure sucks sometimes.

Springtime means Mulberrys on the ground

Back in Nickerson, I bet the Mulberry tree is getting ready to spew it's harvest of the deep purple fruit on the ground.  Catalpa Beans, Walking Stick Cactus and the Mulberry tree are forever ingrained in my memory.  When I can not sleep at night, I often go back in memory to the house at 709 Strong Street.  I guess it was safe then.  It was momma's job to meet all my needs.  There was always something to eat 2 or 3 times a day.  We had electricity, but we did not use it very often.  Mostly we used an oil lamp because we were afraid we would wear the electric wires out or burn out the bulbs.

We had a sign that went in the front window for the iceman.  We could get a 10 or 20 pound block by placing the sign so the amount we wanted appeared right side up to the man on the road.  He would take his tongs and grab the block and bring it inside and put it in our ice box.  And that was what we called it, "ice box".  Momma always left the ice man's money on top of the ice box.

The door was never locked and I am not sure we even had a key.  If we did it was a skeleton key and it would lock and unlock our door and every other door in town.  If we lost it we could get another at the hardware store.  About the only time we ever needed to "lock up" was when the wind blew the door open.  Oh, yeah, and when the Gypsy's were camped outside of town.  Gypsy's were always camping out side of town.  We never seen them,but word spread fast when they were there, because the came to steal the children.  If it wasn't the Gypsy's after us, there was a pack of wild dogs attacking the children.  I do not know how any of us survived what with the Gypsy's and wild dogs after us all the time and in all fairness I must say, I do not remember anyone ever losing a child to anything except measles or diphtheria or something like that.  Oh, there was the incident of a man backing over his child with the car.  But no Gypsy's.

There were 8 of us living in a five room house.  We heated in the winter with a wood stove in the front room and a wood cook stove in the kitchen.  The pump for water was out back and it was the highlight of our live when we finally got a pump inside!  It was one that did not need primed and we could get a drink of water anytime we wanted one.  It was attached to a big sink that drained out the back of the house and onto the ground.  This was the favorite gathering place for the Muscovy ducks.  They were nasty creatures, but they laid eggs and foraged for themselves so we kept them.  I had 4 of them when I had my flock and I got rid of them because they could fly and they would roost on my air conditioning unit.  Nasty birds.

The cactus was on the north side of the house towards the road.  It was wild and unattended and you did not go near it without shoes.  It's sole purpose in life was to make me miserable.  There were 2 Catalpa trees in the front by the road.  One was friendly and easy to climb.  I spent many hours in it's branches dreaming about the day I would be grown and able to leave this place.  The other one was full of small branches and no way could we climb it.  Both of them produced big long green beans which I always thought we should be able to eat, but no way.  I do not know if they were poison or not.  When they dried out we could smoke them.  Or so we thought.  I lit one once and forgot to blow out the flame before I sucked on it and pulled the fire into my mouth.  Not a very bright move on my part and one that no doubt scarred me for life in more ways than one!

On the north side of the house about midway to the currant bushes stood the Mulberry tree in all it's glory.  Mother always promised that if we would pick a pan of Mulberry's she would make us a Mulberry pie.  I do not remember ever getting a pie, but neither do I remember ever picking a pan full of Mulberrys either.  I do remember climbing into the tree and birds attacking me.  I remember walking barefoot through the berries on the ground.  I do remember purple feet and hands and a purple ring around my mouth and I do remember Josephine screaming at me and whacking me with the broom for "tracking that damned mess" into the house.  There is a Mulberry tree up on South Road that I see throwing it's fruit on the road and I am so tempted to stop and pick a handful, but I have not done that yet.  Maybe this year I will!

Maybe this year I will stop and pick a few and stand there and fly away to a time and place that will restore my soul and fill the empty place in my life.  Just maybe.

This is my helper and this is why I can not get anything done!

This is Icarus and Icarus helps me with everything I do.  Here you see that I am working on a mat for the homeless, but she thinks she can do a better job, so she just plants herself on the work and tells me to go do something else.

Now if you are wondering if Icarus is a boy or girl, she is a girl  When I got her I was dating a guy and he said "Let's name her Icarus!  That is a very good name."  I explained to him that Icarus was a boys name and I reminded him that he was the boy with wax wings that flew to close to the sun and his wings melted and he fell to earth.  He patiently pointed out to me that no one remembered that stuff and Icarus was a good name, so Icarus she became and while he is no longer with me, Icarus is.

And her she is thinking she might be able to grab that shuttle, but will have no idea what to do with it when she gets it.  She just wants to get it away from me!

Here she has a different perscpective from the other side of the loom.  She would like to be able to crawl across the harnesses, but she is pretty sure I move them with my feet and she can not control my hands and feet at the same time.

Well, there you go!  I am completely shut down at this point!  You do realize that this also occurs when I am on the computer, don't you?  Naps are out of the question because she like to set on my head when I kick back in the recliner.  And if I protest too much, she has been known to bite.  Where did I get the idea that I wanted a cat?  Oh, I remember, it was so keep the dogs company.  So here I set with an cat that thinks it is a dog, and dogs that tolerate her because she is a bitch.  

I do not know where she is right now and it is scaring me!  Usually when this happens I end up chasing a mouse around the kitchen.  Crap!  Better go find her.  Better go take care of my remaing geese.  Probably ought to just go to bed and call it a day.

New beginnings! Mats for the homeless.

YouTube is a real eye opener at times!  While surfing one day I typed in homeless and then mats and came up with my newest project.  Our church has toyed with all sorts of missions and we do a few.  We buy Christmas and Birthday gifts for every client in a series of group homes.  We do hygiene bags for Los Pobres as well as collect clothing, shoes and household goods all through the year.  We have a preschool which operates the same schedule as schools in the district.  But we needed more.  I drove by the soup kitchen down town one day and noted that the parking lot was full of men, women and children waiting for their daily meal.  That made me think....where do they go after they eat?  Most of the homeless have everything they own with them.  There or stashed back at....where?

Where do they spend the afternoon?  Where do they go when the sun goes down?  Where do they wake up in the morning?  What comforts do they have?  What could our church do to help the homeless?  I knew there were places in town that fed the homeless.  There were coat drives.  And of course there was the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, but was that enough?  When people are homeless, whether by chance or choice, it is a 24 hour a day condition and it last 365 days a year.  What do the places that deal with this problem on a day to day basis need to keep functioning?  Oh, of course they need money, but what else?

I started researching on YouTube.  Amazing tool, YouTube.  I learned how to rebuild the back of my stool on YouTube.  I learned how to caulk the tub on YouTube and now I am learning how to help the homeless.  I do not know where they live, but I do know it is outside and they sleep on the ground.  YouTube taught me that sleeping mats for the homeless can be made out of plastic grocery bags and a crochet hook!  Not even an investment required, just the commitment of time and talent.

So the call went out for empty plastic carry bags.  They have to be straightened, flattened and cut into what turns out to be circles.  For this I relied on the ladies at church.  Most of them do not crochet so that was left to me.  These are then linked together and rolled into a ball.  Then the fun part of crocheting them into a mat 3' x 6'.  I must confess, by first mat took me 6 weeks to make and is not 3' x 6', but does seem to be about 4 foot square.  I took it to church and pastor Kevin blessed it.  Off I went to the Posada Homeless Center. 

Anne Stattleman and her sidekick Sal, were most happy with my little endeavor.  They now have a youth group which is homeless youth that hang out in the center and cope with being homeless.  A spark!  A spark!  My little pea brain took flight.  Young people need to learn a skill!  I have lots of crochet hooks!  So I went back the next morning in search of the young  people who were going to be my project.  I would teach them to cut the bags, string the bags and crochet the bags!  But alas!  My plan was thwarted because they were not there!  One wandered in and he gave me direction!  I will meet with the whole group on Monday at 4:00.    We will make this a social event!  Yes, we will all work together for the common good!  I am excited!  Monday will be the christening, but I have lots of plans for these kids!

Our church is going to have an ice cream social on June 3 and I am going to invite all my little friends to come by for ice cream.  That should be fun, don't you think?  Our church wants to do some sort of neighborhood thing every month and Posada is in our neighborhood so I can see all kinds of things going on here.

In the meantime, I have devised a plan whereby I can weave one of these mats in two days.  This is the first one.  It is way too thin though.  This was woven with hemp thread as the warp, but I have an new plan.

If I can make the warp out to the same thing as the body, it will be thicker and more durable.  So I am working on that.  I will teach the kids to crochet, thus freeing me up to build a warp out of plarn which is the word for plastic that is made into yarn.  PL arn.  Get it?

So tomorrow this one goes to Kevin to be blessed and then to Anne and Sal to give to someone.  By this time next week we should be in full production.  I will keep you posted.  Tomorrow or Monday I will be blogging about my new helper down on the loom.  Her name is Icarus and here is but a screen shot of how she helps me.  Stay tuned.

                                        

This is momma goose.

This is momma goose.  It must have been about 15 years ago when we brought home 3 African Grays for Bret because he wanted geese.  We had 37 ducks but that was not enough.  Years passed as years do and we gained more geese and the fox ate most of the ducks.  The 2 ganders died of one thing or another, but momma goose remained.  My flock had dwindled from 15 down to nine.  For the last 7 years momma goose and the handsome Emiden with the bent neck were inseparable.  Every year they built a nest and laid eggs and I stole them.  Birth control, you know.

He was always so protective of her.  She would go off chasing a weed and he would keep a very close eye out so nothing bothered her.  These two never hung with the other 7.  They were renegades and happy in their little world. 

When the house next door came up empty I saw the perfect opportunity to put my geese in the back field so they could eat weeds.  I had not seen a fox in the area for several years so I thought it was safe.  This afternoon when I went out back to check on them I saw momma goose standing in a puddle of water I had run for them.  She was all alone and she acted like her foot was hurt.  I knew something was wrong when I did not see her mate.  I looked all around and then went to the empty field.  Half way up the fence line I saw feathers.  In the corner I found his headless body. 

It did not take me long to find the den in a pile of brush in the middle of the field.  He lept out and ran across the neighboring field headed for God only knows where.  I went back to my yard and momma goose met me.  I picked her up and carried her to the goose. house.  It was not hard to figure out what happened.  She was chasing a fresh green weed and he was guarding her.  The red fox jumped out and grabbed her leg and he attacked the fox.  He gave his life for her.

Tonight my heart is broken.  Life was so simple this morning, but now my heart cries for my little momma goose who lost her husband.  Sort of ironic the way love works, isn't it?  Treasure what you have while you have it because it always ends up this way.

To pee or not to pee; that is the question!

I can not believe our leaders!!!   They would have Caitlyn Jenner who was Bruce Jenner in the men's room and Chastity Bono who is now Chaz Bono in the women's room.  Have they actually thought that through?  I am sorry, while the wise men and women in Washington argue about who should pee where, the young people are being interviewed on television and it does not appear to be a problem with them!  Could the powers that be possibly just shut the bleep up and let them handle it?

I ask you, when you, as a born man or woman, go into a restroom is the paramount thought in your mind just exactly whether that effeminate looking man over there is a "born man" or did he have an alteration or is he indeed a woman thinking she is a man.  I have never given second thoughts to whether I might have led a better life had I been born a man, but that is because I am happy as a woman.  I am a mother and was a wife.  I am fulfilled in the female role.  But what if I wasn't?

As far back as time there have been men and women who functioned in a role that was not on their birth certificate.  Indians had "two spirits".  In school we had tomboys.  It was accepted as a fact of life.  We all got along and now this is all called into question because someone wants to pee!  Oh, for crying out loud, get over it.  In this great country of ours and despite what the presidential candidates say, it is a great country.  Look around at the depths to which we, through our "leaders" have sunk!

We are going to build a wall to keep the damned Mexicans out. 
We are going to destroy ISIS. 
We are going to make sure wages are not raised for fast food workers because we are afraid a Big Mac may go up a nickel.
We are going to repeal health care because we have health care at work and we do not care about your health care because you might want your policy to offer birth control. 
We definitely want birth control because we do not want you on welfare.
We are so worried about who pees where that we are forgetting about you wanting to take our guns and we need them in case someone wants to pee in the bathroom with the sign that says you have to be born that sex to pee in there.
And the list goes on and on. 

Give me a friggin' break.  Did you ever hear your mother say "Mind your own damn business.?"  Does it really affect your life?  You want to protect your children who are more broad minded and understanding then you ever were or will ever be?  Try this with your children.  Listen to them.  Listen to what upsets them.  They talk about the future and the environment.  They talk about world order.  Teach them compassion.  Teach them to feed the hungry and clothe the poor.  Teach them that their word is their bond. 

Stop tilting at windmills and fearing the shadows that do not exist.  Research the heroine problem the kids have because they are being taught at home that they are better than someone else.  Why do kids hang out in gangs?  Acceptance.  Teach them acceptance at home and they will spread acceptance across the globe.

And since our country was built on religious freedom, talk to them about a man named Jesus!

All I can say, America, is be very careful what you wish for because you just might get it.

OK, Ito, this is our last time.

This was the day Ito would leave me.  I got him a very big carrot at the produce stand.  It was very orange and very fresh!

Look at the little fellow.  He knows I have this for him.

 He learned early how to hold up his left hoof when he is saying please.  He can't talk, you know.

Yes, you little shit.  I am going to miss you , but I told your new owners about how much you like carrots and how you can say please.  And how lonely I will be.

I started this post 2 weeks ago.  And sure enough a big horse trailer pulled into the yard.  A woman who sure appeared to know what horses were all about strolled over and slipped a halter n my Ito.  She led him into the trailer and closed the door.  He managed to look my way and paw the floor of the trailer several times before the truck roared to life and the trailer pulled down the drive and out of sight.   It was over.  I have no idea where he went, but I am sure I will never see him again.  I have to think he will have some one to ride him and  feed him carrots and rub his nose.  I sure hope he does not miss me like I miss him.

Such is the life of a horse.

If it is snowing, it must be spring!

This was last week.  Mid week I think when it snowed'

This was Saturday of last week when I hosted the 3rd Annual High Tea at our church.

And now we come to this week.  I have been out cutting trees that are in places they do not belong.  Oh, I bet your first thought was "You should wear a shirt."  I already thought of that and can you imagine what these arms would look like had I NOT worn a shirt?  All I can say is, "I must be a tad bit suicidal!

But isn't Springtime in the Rockies wonderful?  Just never know what to expect.  Last night the furnace ran most of the night.  Today the air conditioner beat a steady rhythm and now I am starting to open windows to let a little cool air in before the furnace kicks on!  Where else can we enjoy all four seasons every day?

On a good note, the onions are up.  So are the potatoes and Zucchini!  One little Basil plant is struggling for survival.  3 tomato plants are looking poorly in the garden; one is flourishing and 2 more in the trash can are actually blooming.  The broccoli, peppers, watermelons, cauliflower and cucumbers are sprouting in the tiny greenhouse under my deck chair.  The house next door is vacant for a while and I been running the geese over there to eat weeds on the back acre.  They are very happy.  I am very happy, but Big R is a little pissy because I am not buying grain this month.  Happy pocket book!

I walked over to Jackie's the other morning and took a short walk yesterday so I am hoping that this will help me with my health problems.  Probably going to have to walk more than that, but I seen 2 big dogs and they scared me.    I do not want to get eaten by strange dogs. 

I have had several people tell me that they miss my regular writing on this blog, so I am going to try to do better in that department.  See, I have been getting lazy and sometimes sleeping in until 6 or so and then my day has taken flight by that time.  I think of brilliant things to write about when I am laying in bed at night, but then I doze off and my genius is lost!  I now have a clipboard by the bed and hopefully I can begin to function once more as a productive member of society. 

Take my hand and walk with me for the best is yet to be!  (or something like that)

Thought I forgot how to do this!

This is the blanket I crocheted for Bret and Amanda's little one.  It came out really nice if I do say so myself!

So I decided to do a little different pattern for Ryan and Heather and their little one.  It came out pretty good also.

So, now that I know I can still do this, I am going to make a few of them and sell them on Etsy!  Daughter Debbie did not see the pictures on facebook so I am putting them in the blog.  Here you go!  Tell me what you think.

Love, mother.

A sad little horse.

The neighbors have a horse.  It is in a field in front of their house.  It has a shed to stand in and that is about it.  Oh, it gets food and water.  The neighbors on the other side also have a horse.  It has the same life.  The two horses are separated by an offset fence so they do not have any contact.  They just stand there close to their respective fences.  What a life.  Neither one ever gets ridden or taken out of their pen.  I do not know why either neighbor has a horse.  I guess so they have some where to spend any money they happen to have left over.
I taught Ito to say please.  I go out with carrots and he holds up his left front foot.  I give him a carrot and he eats it slowly.  Then he raises his foot again and I give him the other carrot.  It is a game we play, but alas, the game is over.  The neighbors are moving to Castle Rock.  They are actually mostly moved.  Ito is all alone over there.  It is very sad to me to think of him all by himself.  I am sure they will come and do something with him.  I know he will be glad to see them, but ai am sure he will miss his other horse freind and who will give him carrots?  He can't ask for them.  Maybe his new owners will know that horses like carrots.  I sure hope so cause he is really a nice horse.
So I am off to bed, but just wanted to let you know, that my heart is very heavy tonight.
Sleep tight.

I'm Buster Brown! I live in a shoe!!

Thinking about my new brown shoes way back when, and I remembered the ditty.  "I'm Buster Brown!  I live in a shoe! (Bark) That's my dog Tide, look for him in there too!"  That was back when they knew how to make advertising that stuck with you.  That was also back when shoes were made to last.

"Aren't you glad you use Dial?  Don't you wish everybody did?"  "Ivory Snow is 99 44/100ths percent pure.  It floats!"  Never mind that it only floats because the man in charge of stirring it to "trace"  went to lunch and forgot it and it stirred air into it while it was hardening on the mixer.  They did not want to waste the whole batch so they tested it and discovered it floats and that set it apart from the other soaps.  Back then baby diapers and clothes had to be washed in Ivory because it was "pure".  Later Dreft figured out how to do that and it was almost as pure as Ivory, but they only had powdered laundry soap, so they could not float it to show how "pure" it was.

I remember the Sears and Roebuck catalog.  Montgomery Ward had one also, but since they were so hard to come by we did not have one of those.  When Dad would bring home the Sears catalog it was like Christmas all over again.  Some of the pages were color and that was always a treat.  We had to be careful though and not look at the panties and bras because they were almost naked women there.  I think Jake snuck a peek now and then.  And when we had pored over the pages until they were dog eared and the new catalog arrived, the old one was "re purposed" .  That means it went out back to the privy and was used for toilet tissue, which was not invented yet, or if it was we could not afford it.  We learned early in life that the colored pictures, which were slick, were good for nothing except papering the cracks in the wall of the out house!

Thinking about that old outhouse always brings back memories of the Currant bushes that grew along the path.  Ever eat a  currant?  You would remember.  In the Spring, the bushes are covered with small yellow flowers.  In due time those dry up and tiny little round fruits appear.  They are about the size of a very small pea.  Do not under any condition eat one of those things when they are green!  That is second only to a Gooseberry in sourness!  My God, those things can pucker your whole digestive tract!  When they turn purple you might be able to choke one down, but best to wait for black.  When they are black and just begin to be a tiny bit soft is peak eating.  Now I did not say they are good.  Under no condition is that statement coming out of this mouth.  Black and a tiny bit soft they are edible.  I know there are some recipes that call for currants and I am assuming they are alright in that context, but this is definitely not a fruit I am going to seek out. I see in my back yard that the birds have planted me some currant bushes.  Oh, I am excited.  I will leave them for the birds.  The birds will also get the Choke Cherries.  I will pick enough to make one batch of Choke  Cherry Jelly and then let them feast on the remainder.

And now to the point I am coming too which I have forgotten in my rambling.  Oh, yeah, advertising.  I recall when Coke used to have the bears and Budweiser had the Clydesdale's.  That was advertising.  I knew they wanted me to drink Coke and have a Budweiser beer.  Couse that was also back in the day when you drank a Coke and then burped and it burnt your nose.  (I heard that the original Coke had cocaine in it, but who knows.)  Irish Spring was like taking a shower in Ireland!  Levi was probably the first to show a woman with out a blouse(from the back so the Levi label could be seen), but I knew it was Levi.  Maytag washers were built to last and last and I believe that to this day!

I set in front of the television now and wonder just what subliminal message they are sending me.  A sullen, skinny little guy walks into an empty room, probably a loft warehouse some where, and suddenly the music knocks me out of my rocker, a scantily clad woman appears out of no where and  her and the skinny guy begin wallowing on each other.  Since she has very long hair I finally decide it is an ad for hair color.  Or maybe a bra.  Oh, wait!  It is a granola bar.  She is eating healthy. OK.  I give up.

I especially like since lawyers can now advertise, those ads.  A woman comes on and says, "I was delivering pizza and got hit by a truck and for 2 years my insurance did not pay me anything until I called "Mr Good Guy"  and he got me 2.3 million dollars."  Now he can not get everyone that kind of money, but call anyway.  There is no mention that he takes 30-40% and the hospital, doctors, therapists, etc. relieved her of the rest.  Also, law dictates for the most part how much she is going to receive.

Drug companies advertise for blood thinners and then the disclaimer that you may bleed to death.  Irregular heart beat?  High blood pressure?  Overweight?  Disclaimer that side effects of this medicine may be death.  You know what I am saying here, don't you?

And now in closing, I know the rule about "i" before "e" except after "c", or when sounded as "a" in "neighbor" and "weigh".  Why can't it just be "i" before "e"  all the time?   Just a little something to think about as we go about our busy day!

Yep, I am one of Gooch's best!

These are the two that started it all!  This was their wedding picture.  Mom and Dad.  Christine and Reuben Bartholomew, January 19, 1935.  Or thereabouts.  The family record may be a bit screwed up.  The point is not that, the point is this is the woman who gave birth to me and the man who caused that to happen.  

My dad was pretty much a share cropper and did day labor for farmers in the area.  He had been in World War 1 in the Calvary.  I know this because he had a scar on his upper arm close to his shoulder where he had been bitten by a horse.  I am very careful around horses because I do not want one to bite me.  They must have been happy because they had a baby every two years right up until Dorothy was born and then they stopped that nonsense. 

Back in those days, the best anyone could hope to do was eke out a living and that is what they did.  There were 6 little mouths to be fed and 6 little bodies to be clothed.  Mom cleaned houses for the ladies around town and us kids kind of just existed.  There were two times during the year we knew we would get something new.  It goes without saying that one of those was Christmas.  Santa Claus could always be counted on to deliver to our house.  I think that might have been helped by our dear Aunt Helen and Uncle Skinny.  They sometimes came by about that time of year. But maybe not because my mother was very resourceful and hard working.  She raised chickens and rabbits and I learned  very early  how to gut a rabbit and I could then and still can now, wring the neck on a chicken and scald it and pick it faster then anyone else.  I digress.

The other time something new could be had was when school started.  We knew we would get a new pair of shoes and a new dress.  This is how the shoe thing worked; we got a new pair of shoes from the Sears and Roebuck catalog.  Our feet were carefully measured and they would be brown.  They would be lace ups and they would be leather.  And they would fit.  And they would last.  My shoes would be handed down to Donna when I outgrew them.  Donna's would go to Mary and Mary's to Dorothy.  There the cycle ended.  The shoes then left our house and went to God only knows where, but there must have been someone poorer than us!

Ah, but the new dresses were planned for the whole year preceding.  Mom went to the feed store in town for the chicken feed and rabbit pellets.  Gooch feed packaged their wares in a cotton bag with Gooch clearly marked on the bag.  Flour and sugar also came in those bags. Yeah,and corn meal.  About everything because the world had not yet become a disposeable entity.  Mother would buy matching bags so she had enough for one dress.  Then she would choose another color and pattern for the next go round.  She very carefully cut out one dress and sewed it for each of us.  That was our new dress for school.  Of course they were handed down.  

Of course there were also times when the Gooch trademark was placed not quite where it should have been and the "ch" or  "Go" might appear on the hem of the skirt, but Momma always tried to keep that in the back so we did not see it.   Now I gotta go on record here as saying that Gooch always had the best and that was their  logo "Gooch's Best."  That also went for the bags.  I sell on ebay and several years back I sold a big pile of the bags.  The bags were 36" x 36" and the least I got for one was $8.99 + shipping and I sold one to a lady in Korea for $49.00 + shipping.  I would love to luck into a bunch more of those.

Anyway, until I was grown and gone I was known as "One of the Gooch girls."  Until I was 8 I thought my name was Louella Gooch.  I did not give a rat's ass. My mother worked hard making clothes for us kids.  When I hear Dolly Partin sing her "Coat of Many Colors"  I remember my mother bringing home some leftover slip cover material from some place and making me a brand new coat.  It was corduroy and it was light teal.  I loved that coat and when I could no longer fit in it my heart was broken.

I also remember my mother and her "box of rags."  When our clothes reached the point where they could no longer be repaired they went to the rag box.  Mother would then carefully cut out the "good parts"  which were like the skirt and parts of the sleeves that had no wear.  These were used for quilts.  I have curtains hanging in my kitchen that I can point to and know that my mother had a blouse with that fabric in her later life.  Old habits die hard.  

The parts that were still kind of good were torn into strips.  A slit was cut in each end and they were linked together and rolled into a ball.  This was then taken to the "weaver lady down by the doctor's office, "  where they were woven into a rug of whatever length we had scraps to make.  We could come home with a nice rug for a couple dollars.  

When mother got something wool she was in hog heaven.  Wool was cut into strips about 3/4" wide and sewn together.  She then took her crochet hook and cotton twine and somehow crocheted the strips into a thick rug.  Wish I could remember how she did that.  

Sometimes she was Momma, sometimes she was Mother.  She was also Mom.  And later grandma.  She was the driving force behind the woman I am today.  Not because she made me who I am, but she emolated who I should become.  I wonder if someday one of my kids will sit at a computer and remember me with the same all consuming love that I still have for her?  We will see.

The bane of my existence is such a small thing.

As far back as I can remember I have been plagued by the dreaded mouse!  I hate them.  They are small, dirty little creatures that carry germs and poop on the counter. They can go into very tiny places and I read once that if they can get thier nose in a crack they can collapse thier body and slide through.  I do believe that.  My first recollections of mice as actual creatures in my world was when we lived on Strong Street.  I was probably 6 or 7, which is awfully young to be subjected to the rigors of mouse killing, but I was.  Mother opened the vacuum cleaner and there was a nest full of baby mice in there.

I must digress here for a moment to say this, never do I remember ever having carpet in any house we ever lived in and there certainly was no carpet on Strong Street for damn sure, so what that woman was doing with a vacuum cleaner is more than I can fathom.  I think she had it just as a large mouse trap, because that was the only time I ever recall it being in our home and why she opened it is definitely beyond my reasoning capabilities.  Back to the tale.

She handed the bag to me and some other sibling with the instructions to "Take those out on the front sidewalk and mash them with a brick."

I digress once more to interject that not only was the sidewalk in front of the house the front sidewalk, but it was also the only sidewalk any where around the house, or any of the neighbors houses.  For that matter it was the only concrete walkway on Strong Street at all!  It joined a flat concrete slab that was the front of the house that was cracked and falling away from the house, but it was, nonetheless, the front sidewalk.

I remember peering into the bag and seeing the tiny, pink, hairless mice in there.  Thier eyes were not open and they made a sort of squeaking sound.  As sure as there is a God in Heaven and a devil under the deep blue sea, I knew I was not going to mash them on the sidewalk.  I ran back into the house and pleaded with momma to let us keep them because they were so tiny and so cute.  I told her I would feed them and take care of them and they could sleep with me.  Needless to say, I was relieved of mouse mashing duty.

My house has a doggie door in the back door.  That is so the dogs can come and go.  It used to be big enough that I could crawl through  when I locked myself out, but over the years the size of my animals has diminished so that now it is about big enough for a cat.  Icarus has always been an indoor cat with out door habits which means I do not have the litter box to deal with at all.  What I do have to deal with is her eating habits.  Or her lack of eating habits.  I have been told that cats bring mice into the house to reward the owner for thier care and the cats know the owner is not smart enough to catch thier own food.  What ever the reason it seems that sometime during the course of any given day, I will be rewarded with fresh food.  Cat brings it in and bats it around until I notice that my dinner has arrived and then she stands back and waits for me to eat!

Ah, but I am wiser and faster then that damn cat!  I have 2 of those long handled pinchers that are used to pick something up off the floor that I have dropped.  I have become quite adroit at reaching down and snapping up the mouse, taking it to the back yard and flinging it over the fence into the field where it will be safe (broken ribs and all.)  If  I happen to look out my back window and see her coming across the yard with a treat for me, I slide the doggie door in place.  Cats are not very bright are they?

My doggies are getting old and I fear I will not have them too much longer.  I am getting a little older myself so I have decided when these animals are gone, they will not be replaced,  As it is, if I dropped dead tomorrow, they could never adjust to the real world.  But that cat is going to outlive me sure as the sun comes up in the morning.  When the dogs are gone, I think I will eliminate the doggie door and get Icarus a litter box.  Not sure how that will work, but I am getting too damned old to catch mice!

How many years ago was that?

I woke up this morning in a black 1949 Ford on my way to Jetmore, Kansas.  One kid in the front seat and 3 more in the back seat.  Going to go see Grandma Seeger.  Jesus!  How many years ago was that?  It must have been about 1968 or 1969.  I was newly separated  and it was my day off so I was trying to keep some sort of continuity in my life.  I had shaken the dust of Garden City, Kansas off my feet and was living in a 2 bedroom rented house near the Reformatory in Hutchinson.    Just off East Sherman but I do not remember the name of the street.  I doubt that it is still standing, because it was barely standing then.

The first thing that happened was when I called to have the gas turned on, they condemned the stove which was the sole heat source for the house.  That had to be fixed, of course.  Probably should have left the gas off as it turned out later to be a thorn in my side.  It was a constant battle to keep the kids from touching it and burning themselves.

I was working nights and sleeping very little.  I had done the laundry and not folded it yet so it was laying on my bed which was located on the back porch.  I set down in the front room for just a minute and fell sound asleep, only to be awoken to cries of "FIRE!"  Shit!  Debbie threw water on me and I was awake instantly!  Seems dear Sammy, turned the kitchen stove on and poked a piece of paper in the flame to see "What would happen?"  He did not want to burn his fingers so he threw the burning paper on my bed full of clothes.  Need I go into detail?  Of course I do.  I immediately began dousing the fire with water and finally had it out and no smoke was coming from it.  To be on the safe side, I drug the mattress into the back yard.  I called a friend of my brothers and he came and hauled it away.  I am not sure the landlord ever knew where his mattress went.

Smith!  That was the name of that street.  That was my baptism by fire into the world of single parent life.  The girl who lived across the street babysat for me.  She also babysat my only pair of jeans I liked. Remember that when I left my husband I weighed 92 pounds so I was considerably thinner than I am now.  Actually, there could be 2 of me now!  She also releived me of my class ring and my wedding rings.  That was also where the kids got ringworm.  Sam filled the gas tank on the Ford with sand.  The old $150 Chevy that I arrived in Hutchinson threw a rod and I bought a 1949 Ford from Jake's friend, Clell.

You must know that back in those days, child support was optional and my husband opted out.  Welfare was there to help single mothers, but if you worked, they did not help you because you had an income.  Since I worked and could see no way to feed us if I quit, I never drew welfare.  No welfare, no alimony, no child support.  I must say part of the child support not coming was my fault.  My husband explained to me, as if I were a couple bricks short of a load, "You wanted the divorce.  I did not.  You have the kids.  I have nothing.  You should be paying me because you took them away from me."  And in my befuddled, insecure little mind, that all made good sense.

After a time the roof began to leak and the landlord would not fix it so my mother let me move into her house over on 5th Street.  That also brought a change of employment and began my career as a cook at the Red Carpet Restuant.  The husband moved to Hutchinson and took a job at Cessna.  We reconciled for a week or so and then he left town because he "just could not do the boring existence thing."  Welcome child number 5 and a tubal ligation!

I dated a radio personality and learned to decorate wedding cakes.  The radio guy turned out to be a real jerk but the cake decorating turned into a fairly lucrative part time job.  I dated a guitar picker and learned how to sing country!  When Christmas time came, his mom gave me 3 pairs of cotton underwear.  Never really got over that and so much like Glen Campbell or Hank Williams, I moved on.  Then  I found out just how good booze could be and it could always be depended on to see me through the rough patches.

And now I dream about those days.  When I was there it was a constant battle and there were times I wondered if I would survive.  There were days and nights when putting one foot in front of the other was the only hope I had.  Just one more day.  One more night.

Got to end this here because I am starting to feel sorry for myself and I do not want to do that.  That is how life becomes unbearable.  Just gotta keep my shoulder to the wheel, my eye on the prize and take it one day at a time.

Click to play

If I could shut off my memory....

Morning seems to be when I remember best.  I woke up this morning  back in the late 60's.  I was working as a waitress in a restaurant in Hutchinson.  It was my first job in the real world with my kids dependent on me since I was newly seperated and had filed for divorce.  Back in those days child support was optional and welfare required that you not work to qualify for help from the state.  So there I was.  I had never waited tables as a means of support.  Many years before I had been a cook/waitress/dishwasher at a place out on 4th street called the Tiny Tear.  Course most of my life at that time was spent in an alcohol induced fog, so I remembered little of that experience.  But now it was   ten years later.

The people who ran this resturaunt took pity on me and were very patient and they needed help on the night shift really bad.  The logistics of the job are not important, just the people.  There were the two "real waitresses" and a young girl who was attending college and supporting her self.  There was also a cook,  cook's helper and a dishwasher.  We were closed one day a week and that was the only day off that we had.  To make a long story short, the cook and the young college girl fell in love.  Oh, it was so romantic.  They billed and cooed and carried on something fierce.  She, however, appeared a lot more enthralled with the relationship than he did.  The strange part was, they never dated.  Never.

 He would leave work on Sunday when we closed and not appear again until Tuesday afternoon.  Where did he go?  The young college girl did not know.  Nor did anyone else.  She cried and he gave her a ring.  But still they never dated.  He swore he loved her with his whole heart, and she believed him.  We all did.  And like all things in life and like mother always taught me, "It all comes out in the wash!"  He was going to Wichita.  Why?  Why not?

The young college girl gave up and returned the ring.  She moved on.  He quit cooking there, the two "real waitresses" moved to Texas, and I took a job cooking at the Red Carpet Resturant.  I saw the cook from time to time, but that friendship petered out as any friendship that has secrets will.

Many years later found me in Pueblo, Colorado.  A lot of water ran under this bridge and I finally found my niche in the construction industry.  The AIDS epidemic reared it's ugly head.  It was sad back then.  People were dying at an alarming rate.  I divorced again, got my degree in accounting and all my little acolades because I was so damn smart.  Then I married for the last time.  For whatever reason I began volunteering with the AIDS group in town and it was tied in tightly with the Gay community.  I have watched the face of AIDS and sexual orientation change from complete denial to total acceptance in my life time and I am proud to say I was in the forefront of most all of it!  but I digress.

I remained friends with only a few people back home, but one of them was a friend of the cook.  Remember him?  He was the one who ran away to Wichita every chance he got.  The one who left the college girl crying.  He became quite successful in his chosen profession, but he never married.  One day his friend called me and said "Do you remember 'the cook' "?  Sure I did.  She then told me he was rushed to the hospital and they had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was in a coma.  The next day he was dead.

Weeks would pass before the autopsy returned the results of his demise.  AIDS.  Not really AIDS, but disease associated with the syndrome.  At that time it was still a "gay disease."  At that time it was selective.  It was a scourge.  You were not even tested if you were not gay, and he was not gay!  Oh, wait a minute.  All the trips to Wichita began to creep in on the corners of my mind.  Could he have been leading a secret life?  Was that what that was all about?  The young college girl had become a quite successful architect and married very well, but he had not.  He lived all alone in a very nice house and had friends, but no romantic interests.  Or  so we thought.  It all comes out in the wash.

And why do I have this on my mind this morning?  I think it is because of the hatred that is being spewed through this election.  One governor struck down a bill passed by his state governing body that legalized discrimination.  Another is proposing legislation that legalizes it!  Contenders for the position of president are calling to criminalize birth control, homosexuallity, gay marriage, and about anything that has been passed in the last 20 years.  I may have to run for office myself.

My platform would be love and tolerance.  No discrimination.  A living wage and a chicken in every pot.  The only two things I would outlaw would be homelessness and poverty.  Everyone that wanted an education would get it and a few that did not want it would get it anyway.  Drugs would be illegal.  Gangs would be illegal.  Killing people because you are a jerk and can, would be illegal.  You get the picture?  Kind of a pollyanna world, so to speak.

But in the meantime, I send good thoughts to "the cook" and everyone who hides in the shadows because of fear or shame or whatever reason.  If the college student/architect or the "two real waitresses" or someone who knows them happens to read this, I wish you would contact me.  Just go google loumercer3, or Lou Mercer.  Or leave a comment below.  I would love to hear from anyone that knew me back then.

In the meantime remember:

 BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED!