Down County Revisited...

Since my previous post was a little dark and heavy, I thought I'd write a little cheerier!! Dash is 16 months old now and still has all his puppy energy, so I knew taking him with me to the farm would be great exercise, and it was. Unfortunately he either stayed in the house at my moms or in the truck when we attended funerals or visited the graveyard. Anytime we were at the house though, he was outside chasing birds or just running at full speed around and around the house. Acres of grass to roll around on and miles of mole trails to dig in... he was never so happy! In fact, he got so much exercise he's still asleep here under the table!! Here you can see him watching as we attended to Dads grave. Of course he jumped out and joined us after only a few minutes, but he did listen and "stay" for a short while. Check out my new magnetic signs. I bought them for my birthday! I figure any kind of advertising is good advertising... even if I'm broke down on the side of the road or in a graveyard. As long as the impression I leave behind is one of acceptance and not criticism I'm doing alright! I never can get enough of the farm where I grew up. I remember when my father and several others dragged this barn from Mr Taylor's garden to our field. Chained to a raft of pine logs and hooked to about 4 tractors, they just drug it to where they wanted it and put it up on blocks. It still stands where they placed it almost 30 yrs later. In the foreground of the picture you can see part of the old grapevine. Nobody knows how old it is... It's been there too many years and nobody's alive that can remember it being planted. There were originally at least 6 Linden Trees planted around the house. Three remain today and how majestic they are. Towering twice as tall as a two story farmhouse which is around 80 to 90 ft in the air they've been a natural air conditioner all their life. Dad use to say, "If there ain't a breeze under these trees, there ain't a breeze anywhere", and he was right. I'm not sure how old they are, but they've been there my entire life and they've always been huge. The house I've know as Grandma Deans still sits where it always did, but belongs to a different family now. I remember all the firewood we would carry into that house each year and all the grass that had to be cut and all the tobacco we hung in those barns, but more memorable than those memories are picking up pecans out by the chicken house, or just sitting in Grandmas kitchen hearing her tell stories. That kitchen..... in the winter you could sit there in your underwear it was so hot. Grandma kept that wood stove so stoked it would glow red on the sides, and she cooked on it too!! This is probably where I learned to love Potatoes n Cabbage. She always had some on when we'd stop in. Grandma died here. Took her last breath with the family all around.... and the candle went out. Nowadays the new owners are building themselves a new home. They named the farm "The Pryse". I'm not sure if it's their name or maybe they just can't spell, but it's theirs and their new home looks.... well, you decide. It's not done... maybe it'll get better after it's painted. It's kind of monstrous right now. Since they raise or board horses, maybe they're going for the whole "plantation" look. Who knows? I took these pics while out for a drive with my Mom. After we had finished grooming Dads Grave we got home and decided we didn't want to cook our own lunch so I took her out. Tommy Courtney's at the end of Wynn Rd. If you want comfort food without all the frills or even a friendly staff, that's your place. The tables and the forks were clean... just don't look around too hard and when your eyes won't focus on whatever's on that shelf..... just know they won't ever focus and look away. We finished our lunch and went for a drive. Taking all the side roads and driving until we had to turn around because we didn't have a boat, which is what we would have needed to continue. We ended up at my Uncle Georges home. In a wheelchair since I was 5 and always very opinionated, he's a character I need to develop more if I plan to use him in my book. Lets just say the conversation was intense, and know that he probably only gets Fox News on his TV. He's part of an older generation and a dying breed. Here he sits outside in his wheelchair beneath his POW flag with a rifle resting between his knees proclaiming G.W. Bush is an honest intelligent man. Need I say more? I'm not positive what his dogs name is, but she was a cute little thing. 12 yrs old, a little deaf, (could be caused by the rifle) but sweet as could be. Obviously not jaded by late night news while laying next to her Master. She's spent her life chasing after and reportedly catching rabbits, squirrels, groundhogs and an occasional fox. We finished our visit and headed back to the farm. That evening I was looking forward to a visit from my daughter and grandson, but it was not meant to be. Another event had been planned and their presence there was demanded more than their presence at Moms was required, so we ate our dinner and talked until we both started to fall asleep. Sat morning would mean me leaving to go pick up Steve who was returning from England and get back home to WV. It's always nice to get away from time to time, because it helps me appreciate where we live and what we have. It's even nicer when I see how others appreciate Harpers Ferry. Here's one of several painters who weathered a cold overcast Sunday morning just to paint the Gap and all its beauty. I watched this gentleman fill his canvas from bare to amazing in a matter of minutes. He's apparently painted before, because his brush never stopped. Maybe I should take up painting!! Writing seems to take the wind out of me.... maybe a brush would be more inspiration.... we'll see. It's normal to see people take photos of or paint the Gap. Harpers Ferry Gap is where the Shenandoah and the Potomac Rivers meet. This is also where the United States Armory was in 1859 when John Brown and his raiders came here to raid that armory and disperse the guns they hoped to take, to slaves in the south, thus giving those slaves a means to free themselves. His raid unfortunately was unsuccessful and he was eventually hanged for treason. This act however, triggered the South to secede thus starting our Civil War. This year is the 150th anniversary of John Browns visit to Chatham Ontario, where he went to obtain weapons and help, in order to carry out his raid on Harpers Ferry. I'll be attending and speaking at that anniversary event next week in Chatham. I'll take plenty of pictures and make sure I post everything about the two day event. See y'all next week!!

On the tips of my fingers

Home-Scotland, MD April 23rd, the day after my 44th birthday, I set out to visit my Mom down county, in southern MD. We had just had some major work done on the truck but I trusted the mechanics and off Dash and I went. Of course as my luck goes... about 10 miles from my childhood home the truck lost all oil pressure and there I was sitting on a country road shoulder. Now this would have been the perfect time for a cigarette... if I still smoked, but instead I called the garage that had just fixed our oil pressure issue and asked WHY this had happened. 113.3 miles into my trip and I was a highway statistic. He claimed it might just be the gauge, so I restarted the truck and sure enough... oil pressure fine... gauges working... ready for take-off. I pulled back onto the road and vowed to NOT race away from traffic lights like I just had done prior to my temporary engine failure. In fact, for the next 4 days I probably wouldn't go over 30 mph. Let me backtrack some.... I had stopped at my brother Edwards briefly on my way through Hollywood, MD, only to be greeted by his new Pit bull, Maggie, who I later discovered is just a big wet tongue that gives Super Happy licks to everyone new that she meets. I also found out that nobody was home because they were all on their way to my Aunt Marilyn's funeral. I hadn't planned for a funeral. I only had jeans and maybe a dark t-shirt to wear, so I got to my moms... changed and headed up to the church. Home- Scotland, MD St Michael's, is the family church. We were all baptised there, confirmed there, confessed our most darkest secrets to the priests who were sometimes WAY to willing to hear them, and ultimately most of us will have our funeral service there. Today was Aunt Marilyn's turn. Since the funeral was almost over, I just waited outside. The other reason I didn't go in was because I really wasn't sure if this was HER funeral. I'm pretty positive had I gone in and it wasn't hers, I would have still been related to whoever was inside. In a few moments the doors opened and the procession started. It's an honor to be a Pall Bearer, but I'm seeing my family in that position more and more often these days. Having been one of the group who carried my sister to her final resting place, I realized just how much closure there is in placing a loved one in their grave. Just like holding their hand as they take their last breath, releasing the coffin to the earth that will consume them has as much power. A solemn act that affords us only a moments reflection can seem an endless loop in time until that moment when your finger tips brush away from the smooth wooden handles and you can feel the life slip away. It was the most peaceful loss I have ever experienced. A chance to say goodbye that final time... and know it was OK. I didn't get this chance with my father.... I mean, I did say good bye to him a few days before he died, because we knew he was dying, but I don't remember his funeral. Mostly because it was shrouded in some sort of secret inbred ritual of not wanting people to see him or make a fuss. "Jesus Christ" is the only correct exclamation for this.... Funerals are for the living..... If you don't want people seeing you, then make arrangements to be dumped at sea or better yet, just wander off somewhere before you make that last exit. I don't mean to be so harsh about my fathers funeral, but I really don't remember it. I wasn't on any drugs and I wasn't drunk until much later that night, so there isn't any reason why I shouldn't remember why I wasn't asked to help carry my own Dad. Seriously, there are five of us boys and it takes at least 6 to carry a coffin. I'm not in a wheelchair, and we were on speaking terms. I'm gonna have to find out.... hmm! I followed my family and friends to the KC Hall (Knights of Columbus) to the usual after funeral social and lunch where as usual I was greeted by relatives who still don't know me and greeted relatives I still don't know. This was over in no time it seems and I headed back to my moms to start my intended visit with her. The next couple days we talked and laughed and got way too serious from time to time, but over-all it was an excellent visit. There was, as fate would have it, another funeral the following day for a family friend and then to the KC Hall again, and the 3rd day of my visit we went to the graveyard to spruce up my dads grave. I took a lot of time to myself because peace and quiet was in large order. Two funerals and a graveyard visit in 3 days automatically puts anyone in a reflective head-space. Walking around the old barns I remember once when someone asked me, "didn't I get depressed seeing the farm I grew up on falling into disrepair". I told them no, looking at these old barns now, I see them resting. Their sagging rooftops, the poles that once stood straight, now bowing from the weight they once shouldered so proudly. Boards missing and tin curling back only remind me of a normal aging process. These barns were once living things that protected us and the farm. Without these barns, crops and livestock would have perished.... possibly even a few human lives would have been lost. They stood strong and graciously performed every task that was demanded of them. Now it was time to let them rest in peace. Standing quietly on a sunny afternoon, I swear I could hear a gentle sigh. The barns knew I was admiring them and not wishing them to be strong again or worse, gone, but just admiring them. Gentle souls they are, having completed their task in life. I ran my hands across a splintered paint chipped board and bid the old barn farewell. I thanked it for everything it did for me and for everyone who ever entered its doors, and as my fingers brushed away from the course weathered board I could feel a life slipping away peaceful and content. So much can change in a lifetime or even a moment and I refuse to be sad when I see death or decay. Life is a cycle and we must all embrace death as a beginning. I've probably repeated this too many times and I'll more than likely live to regret it, but I've made the claim that when my Mom does finally go to join my Dad, I'm going to officially declare myself an only child. I've always been the youngest of thirteen and I've lived my whole life being "the baby". I've listened to drama, been part of the drama, and outlived some of the drama. Most of it not my fault and not my business. None-the-less, I was put their by the powers that be for a reason. I've been working hard at trying to figure out why and believe I'm getting close to an answer. I'm struggling with a question though. If a relative who's just mean and hateful wasn't related I would NEVER be friends with or want to socialize with them. So why does the fact that we're related change that decision? A bastard is a bastard and I don't hang out with bastards!! Now don't get me wrong.... my whole family is NOT like that and claiming myself an only child does NOT mean I'll end communication with most of my family. They'll simply become friends at that point, and the ones who have caused me so much grief will be placed in another folder until which time it becomes full and I can "Empty" it. I guess in doing this I'm tricking myself into believing that if they're not related the loss won't be so great when they die. Perhaps in time I'll change my mind, but for now it's comforting and I guess foolish to think, this way I won't lose any more relatives. My Mom claims she can hear my Dad snoring. Now I didn't hear it myself, but I TOTALLY believe her, since I've had my own ghostly experiences. She said how "just the other night I was sittin here with nothing on, and I heard him snoring". Now, there are thirteen of us kids. It's highly unlikely that if Mom was sitting there with nothing on, that it was DAD that was snoring. Of course she meant no radio was playing or TV was on, just quiet, but it was still funny. It's good that she hears and has even seen his ghost, and I'm glad she tells us about it. Of course there will be that last time she sees him that none of us will ever hear about, and that's when he'll come to take her. 54 years of marriage..... he BETTER be the one to come get her!!! I'm 44 yrs old, I finally, several years ago, got the courage to hug my Mom when I saw her and when I was leaving. We never were big on hugs growing up... not sure why... we just weren't. The thing that bugs me the most is why I can't tell her I love her. I talked to my Dad 4 days before he died, knowing he was dying and didn't tell him how much he really meant to me. I didn't hug him. I played it safe and told him to tell everyone Hi for me when he got there. Yep, that's me make a joke before your final exit.... don't let 'em know how you really feel. Well, I hugged Mom really hard when I left. I also paid attention to how soft her sweater felt on my finger tips as they brushed across her shoulders. Shoulders that have carried the weight of the world for so many years and just now are starting to rest. I watched Mom in the rear view mirror and stopped at the end of the driveway to admire her. How many times she must have stood just like that.... strong and proud and protective. How soon would she breath that sigh of relief when she knew her work was done. Just like the coffin and the barn board, she has all these qualities and more. She carries compassion and most of all unquestionable love. I'm glad I got to visit and I hope there are many more, but if those same powers that put me here decide to take her, I won't have any regrets. I may not have told her How much I love her, but at least I didn't make her doubt it.

Spring is AWESOME!!

Although I didn't get any really great shots outside, I did manage to remember to take a few pics of a really incredible day!! Sat morning started out at 59 degrees and just kept getting better. Steve and I cleaned house for awhile getting ready for some friends who were coming to visit later.

What was supposed to be an overcast and possibly rainy day turned out to be sunny and warm.The day wouldn't be normal if I didn't have to run to the store for some last minute things, and when I returned Jon and Steph had just called from down at the river. Perfect timing!!! See, they like to take their dogs hiking first and then swing by here.... sometime for short visits and other times for dinner. I wish they'd hike more often because we really enjoy their company.This time they brought both Turk and Beau. Turk used to be our pup until Blaze started having all kinds of issues and we thought it best to make him an only child, so we adopted Turk out to Jon and Steph. I swear they were sent from heaven, because I never saw Turk as happy as he is with them. Turns out Blaze was just angry and Turk wasn't the cause of it at all. It all worked out in the end. So.... Jon and Steph got here.... we sat outside for most of the afternoon just enjoying the sun. I fixed us Shrimp/bacon/beef kabobs with fennel/onion and squash.... marinated in my secret sauce. Oven roasted potatoes with caramelized onions and ice cream for dessert. After dinner we sat inside playing Cranium. This of course was a challenge game since Steve and Jon beat Steph and I last time. Now mind you, it's been 5 hrs and a couple bottles of wine later for Steve and Steph. Jon and I stuck to ice tea, but Steve's a .... how should I put it..... a seasoned drinker.... Steph is not, so I already had a handicap!!! Well let me tell you... I'll take her drunk as a partner anytime. She might not have been able to remember answering any questions, but she got 'em right!!! WOOHOO... Way to go Steph!!!! I must admit.... It was quite entertaining to see Steph drunk. Especially when we watered down her wine.... and she thought it was the ice cream that made it taste so foul. I'm not sure what the expression on Jons face was, but I laugh every time I look at it. "for better or worse", Jon.... LOL

It got a little unpredictable from time to time, but she pulled through.

You'd think Turk never left the way he crashed on the couch. He was so relaxed and so was Beau....

He couldn't quite get his mouth around the bone, but once he got it where he wanted it..... no other dog was gonna take it!!!

The day, the visit, the friends, the food, the fun....... it was all so unbelievably awesome!! Steve and I haven't laughed so hard and so much in such a long time. I hope we can plan something with them again soon. It's always too long between visits. Happy Spring Everyone!!!

Single Car Wake Up Call

My morning started as usual with coffee and a few references to Dagwood and Blondie, which is always the case when catching Steve putting his shoes on before his pants. I get him out the door, sit at my computer by the window and wait to hear the train whistle fade into the tunnel. That job is done until I hear that whistle once again around 6pm and he returns. This morning as I sat down, I heard a horrible crash and what sounded like crunching metal..... then the phone rang. Of course I snatched the phone off its base and there was Steve asking me to call 911... somebody had hit a pole at the entrance to the train lot. Since the train was just pulling out he knew he would loose connection. Have you ever called 911 and had to explain to them how you heard an accident.... you didn't see it but you knew where it was and what happened because someone called you and told you about it? The poor operator thought I was insane for sure, but they dispatched, and emergency vehicles were on their way. Apparently a commuter late for the train saw this LARGE telephone pole and decided to remove the right front quarter panel from their car with it. I'm not sure what speed this car must have been traveling to do this much damage, but DAMN!! It took the tire off. Air bags deployed and it all came to a stop some 40ft past the pole.

The pole that caused all this damage is actually an old one only used to lift wires higher over the road. This tired piece of wood has been hit so many times it's warped and splintered from top to bottom. It was even hit by lightening once when it used to hold a transformer years ago. Now it's just there to protect the REAL pole behind it and occasionally jump in front of speeding commuters. I won't even discuss what sex the driver was. Several Park employees told me the "driver" was OK, but the ambulance still took the "driver" to the hospital to be looked at. I have to say.... I'm not a drama freak. I don't chase ambulances to see the gore. I sickens me to watch anything like the 9/11 events. I find no thrill in witnessing or seeing this type or any type of devastation. I went to see this specific wreckage because it happened only moments after Steve crossed its path. I had to see what could have caused my heart to break..... what Could have been the worst day of my life.... what COULD have even meant the death of me. How much more important an accident becomes when it happens near a loved one. Steve is fine, and I hope the "driver" is too, and although I already try to live every day as if it were my last, I'll accept this sign. What we is have is so precious and should never be taken for granted. So, call an old friend... send someone a card.... tell your best friend how much he or she means to you.