150th Anniversary

In 2003 Harper's Ferry sistered with Chatham Kent Ontario. Gwen Robinson, who was then the President of the Chatham Black Historical Society, and myself, who was at the time President of the Merchant Association here in HF, worked hard at convincing our two town councils to vote yes on this and we succeeded. Since that time, I've attended 3 of the 6 John Brown Seminars held in Chatham each May. May was chosen because it's the yearly anniversary of when John Brown arrived in Chatham seeking support for his planned raid on the armory here in HF. This was also the convention where a provisional constitution was written by Brown and 45 delegates who attended. Each year the list of speakers gets more and more interesting as the focus gets clearer on what goals have been set by the Heritage Center. I've been given a incredible opportunity to attend and speak at these seminars and felt even more honored this year since it was the 150th Anniversary of John Browns arrival in Chatham. I walked the streets he walked. I sat in the the chair he sat in and rested my hands on the desk that I'm sure he must have pounded his fist on. I spoke to descendants of some of the original delegates, and delivered an impassioned speech to a room almost full of familiar faces. I've been welcomed and accepted by this community as one of their own, but even more so as one of their family. I'm sure this was exactly how Brown must have felt, and why do he and I share this feeling? We share it because what Brown was fighting for was fair and equal treatment for all men and women. The fight is still the same today only we don't call it slavery anymore. I drove to Canada again this year and it's relatively a quick drive. 9.5 hours according to map quest, but this year it took me 10. The only traffic problems I had were here in MD. I really look forward to the day when people will learn how The HELL TO MERGE!! I stayed overnight outside of Toledo. I really must go back there one day and look hard for whatever reason people want to live there. I'm sure that interstate scenery is not all there is in Toledo, but YUCK!! OK, Whats worse than Toledo....... Detroit. I swear, I could feel the cancer growing in my lungs as I was driving down the highway. Customs is always fun, but I learned years ago when they ask you what your business is in Canada, DO NOT answer, "My Own". They really frown on smart-asses at the border. I usually play the race card and tell them I'm a guest speaker of the Black Historical Society of Chatham, at their annual John Brown Seminar and Ambassador between Chatham and Harper's Ferry WV, sister cities since 2003. This usually throws the guard, off guard. They hand me my passport and really mean it when they tell me to have a wonderful day. Being a redneck from WV on his way to a seminar in honor of a man who opposed slavery is a good thing!!! So I get through customs... drive through Windsor and hit their version of highway and this is what you see. It says 100/kph... that's about 60/mph, but then you see that you're in a single lane opposite a jersey wall from THIS!!! Kinda scary but at the same time exhilarating! Why, because these people know how to drive. They're doing the speed limit. What a novel idea!! Nobody thinks it necessary to ride their freaking brakes which turns into miles and miles of backed up traffic. In fact.... we were doing about 70/mph. Don't even ask me what that is in Kilometers..... maybe like 120.. who knows!! I arrived at the center around 9:30 and Gwen of course was already busy. This woman is 76 yrs old and has the drive and energy to beat any of you. Gwen swears we must be related, but I tell her we like each other too much and get along too well to be related. Another good soul that's always nice to see is Millie. I'm not sure how long her and Gwen have known each other, but I get the impression they go way back. This isn't the best pic of her, but you try to get her to stand still for a photograph.... good luck!! When I arrived at the center, Millie was the first person I saw and she didn't recognize me. Now I know I've gained another person since I quit smoking, but come on..... I couldn't have changed THAT much. After I said good morning to her three times I said how I couldn't believe I drove all the way from WV and didn't get a hug. She almost knocked me down when she realized who I was. Needless to say, I got hugs every time she saw me for the next two days. She's good people. I didn't get pics of this, but later on the same day of my arrival there was to be a story teller, Christopher Paul Curtis, arriving to entertain 245 kids in the auditorium. Now, I'm in the research center typing away on my laptop... actually I was rewriting my speech for that evenings banquet, when Gwen comes in... takes me by the hand and says, "come with me, I want to introduce you to someone" TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY FIVE CHILDREN!!!! The story teller was late and Gwen threw me to them. Just like bloody meat to a school of sharks they didn't notice me right away, so I used that opportunity and grabbed a set of bongos. Have you ever played the bongos? I haven't, but guess what.... it got their attention and as long as I kept them distracted I knew they wouldn't eat me. Now I know what it must feel like to be a comedian.... rough crowd.... I'd say so. Once I got them all to quiet down vocally and join me in my not so steady beat by tapping their feet, I set down the drums and asked. "Who here has ever been to Harper's Ferry?" 245 kids and I see three hands. The first hand I pointed to asked, "Where IS Harper's Ferry?" The second two hands...... had the same question. So I asked who here knew John Brown? They ALL raised their hands. They all broke into hysterical laughter when I said, "Wow, none of you look that old!!" Just as my running foot stopped shaking and I really started to think this group of kids wasn't really going to eat me, Mr Curtis arrived. I said goodbye... took my bow, and exited to much appreciated applause! If ever in my life I've come close to having a heart attack.. .that was the moment. I'm shocked and pleased more and more these days when I realize what people really think of me and my talents. It's nothing at all like what I believe in myself. Friday night was the banquet. I probably wouldn't be forgiven if anyone from Chatham read this, but I don't remember most of the speakers and I'm not going to cheat and look at the schedule. We listened to a minister sing, an incredible Singer astound us, a Canadian equivalent of one of our congressmen made us laugh, and a Senator, well, they're no different in Canada. Senator Donald Oliver, He's a walking success story and I'm sure a very nice man. His, hour or so, long speech although it made many points left me feeling like the most unwanted person in the room. He clearly separated Black from White and several times mentioned "The White Man" and not in a historical sense. Every speaker that evening including myself, spoke to or was spoken to by the other speakers. Mr Oliver, however looked at and walked right past me without a word. He was there, front and center, when I was introduced as guest speaker and ambassador from Harper's Ferry, WV. I guess some people are too important to speak, or maybe he remembered how I was the only person who did NOT stand after his speech. You can make your own decision, but my instinct is rarely wrong, and I willingly hope someone can prove me wrong this time. I would hate to think the new President of the Chatham-Kent Black Historical Society would support someone whose views or speeches would alienate anyone who might be a supporter themselves. Saturday, the second day of the seminar started out sunny and bright, but the clouds grew dark and the rain started to fall. Fortunately for us, we had all the sunshine we needed, already in the hall. Again, there were several speakers and today they were ALL wonderful, but alas I am at a loss as to most of their names. One speaker I do remember was Dr Edna Medford Her energy and enthusiasm surpassed her intelligence which is without question, astounding. Her knowledge of Abraham Lincoln is what placed her as a speaker, but it was her personality that won me. Such a charming kind-hearted woman. I understand why Gwen always speaks so highly of her now. After lunch there were 3 of us left to entertain the guests, and we were all three introduced at the same time in order to save time.... so we were told. I spoke first, sharing a warm welcome from Harper's Ferry and as much info as I could possibly give on next years 15oth anniversary of John Browns Raid here in HF. I ended my talk with a sincere invitation to not only come visit Harper's Ferry but to come visit ME in Harper's Ferry. I would gladly be host or tour guide to any visitor.... just give me notice!! Patricia Richardson Williams followed me. What can I possibly say about a woman with her voice. I video taped her entire performance. She portrayed Harriet Tubman and told her story as well as educated us on the history of the songs she was about to sing. Her performance was inspirational. I can not say more for fear of doing her an injustice. She had the entire room clapping and singing along. Even I couldn't help singing along and I've got the video to prove it!! The night before, after dinner was over and we were all visiting, she asked me, "Back in Harper's Ferry, do you have a regular ministry?" I smiled and told her how flattered I was that she thought I was a minister, because that was proof to me that my speech was received the way I wanted it to be. How funny... me a minister.... I guess if you replace the "M" with an "S"!!! Following the Seminar on Saturday, I walked down the street to the First Baptist Church which is where John Brown held the last of his meetings in preparation for his Raid on H.F. There are those who say Brown was insane and that was the tactic used at his trial. I for one agree with them.... he was insane.... ANY man that would have 20 children has to be out of his mind!! Other than for that reason.... the man was completely of sound mind. Slavery was wrong and he knew it long before this country would admit it. The picture below isn't that clear and it's not the whole desk, but that's because there were people standing around it. I was there though, and although the table is small and the chair almost seems spindly, the impact was the same. John Brown sat here. The man who caused a nation to take notice of one man, and Caused a nation to collide with itself.... he sat here!! I surely believe John Brown dreamed his success. I'm glad we live in a world that honors it. Leaving Chatham headed for the border, I took this shot of a serious looking storm front. Off to the right of this storm, as you can see in the picture below, was the start of one of three funnels. Right next to the tree on the left side of the pic. Of course as my luck would have it.... my camera battery died and this was all I got. My first tornado and I didn't get a pic of it. I got to drive through the hail and the pounding rain and the wind... wow the wind. Symbolism never escapes me, and a tornado touch down was a perfect ending to a whirlwind trip to Canada. Full of emotions from absolutely unwelcome to positively admired I retreated back to Harper's Ferry ready to replay my weekend of adventure. Should my tune of inclusion fade from the ears of our sister city, I have made the decision to return next May. Perhaps then they will know, without question, we want them part of our celebration. 2009 is 150 yrs since John Brown and a group of men we call his Raiders crossed the Potomac River in a drastic attempt to end slavery. They felt so strongly and knew without a doubt how wrong slavery was, that they were willing to risk their lives and most of them did. Now I ask you, next year when we commemorate these events here in Harper's Ferry, will you simply take the time to remember John Brown and what he did, or will you be here? Will you make the same trip and allow the same power that drove those men, to consume you? I, for one, will be here to represent the kind of townspeople John Brown had hoped to meet.

The Takaani saga...

Takaani which we had nicknamed Kahn and since have decided to just call him Tank, has been pretty consistent in asserting his male dominant behavior. I've had to take him to the floor a few times after he showed me his teeth. He's much better now. I found out his original owners name and that he was stationed at Fort Bragg, NC when he got Tank. I called the base veterinary and yes that's where he had been seen. So we now know what shots he requires and that he's only a month behind on them. Bill came by today to get Tank and took him to the vet. No heart worms, no Lyme Disease, no bone issues or major health concerns. He does have hook worms and we fixed that this evening with scrambled eggs and a pill. Bill told me on the way to the vet his car broke down. He had to call his wife to come get him and Tank and had his car towed away to the shop.... Off to the vet they go... everyone loved Tank.. he was the best behaved at the office. The doctor even suggested to them that if they choose not to adopt that she would be interested in taking him herself. They took him home afterwards to meet their 14 yr old husky/mix and the fun began. Tank immediately peed on the first houseplant he came across. Tried to bite Lois twice and Bill once. Escaped the house and ran about a 1/2 mile away to play with some unfriendly pit bull mixes. Fortunately they didn't get to him before Bill did. All this misbehaving and they still want to give him a try. He's here with us till next Monday when Bill and Lois will return from a trip and either come get him or let us know they just can't do it. If Bill has it his way, Tank will be theirs. Poor Tank, he's not aggressive, he's confused and he realized early on that a growl and a little teeth got him what he wanted. He learned really quick with me that THAT was not true here. I've worked very hard the last three days to make him feel wanted but disciplined. I'll work even harder to train him to respect Bill and Lois. So, Tanks outlook is still sunny. Even though I still wouldn't trust him alone with my cats, he knows we're his friends and he likes it here. I hope he can adjust to just one more move.

Takaani now Kahn

I know I promised to write about my trip to Chatham when I got back, but I'm still thinking it all through. Sometimes it's best to think before you talk and in this case it's best to think before I write. I will, however, write about our latest visitor. I was going to say addition, but unfortunately he's not going to be with us for very long. Takaani was advertised on Freecycle.org What a horrible place for such a wonderful pup to end up. I guess it could be worse. He could be staring up the barrel of a dart gun. Anyhow, I answered the ad and suddenly was immersed in the world of Malemutes. Morgan was my freecycle contact and knew less about the dog than you do right now. She's the girlfriend of the brother of the owner. She gave my number to the people that actually had the dog and I was connected. I knew nothing of this breed before and now my on-line research had filled my head with almost unbearable excitement while looking forward to meeting this unfortunate pup. Takaani came from..... who knows where. Takaani's owner is in the military and well ..... I really hate to say anything mean because I don't know him, but come on.... anyone thats EVER been in the military knows that a stable living environment is NOT something you can offer a pet.... ESPECIALLY if you're single. It's just the military way to let you establish a relationship, be it with an animal or human and then RIP you from it without a concern. My guess is... the puppy was cute.... the fact that he was going to be some sort of wolf-like adult, pampered the damaged ego of one of americas finest and thus began Takaanis journey. Takaani.... again I apologize, but that name sounds so ghetto. Takaani, girl, you betta get yo ass off the street. See my point? We've shortened his name to Kahn since its the kaan part of his name he responds to anyhow. It sounds better and I can say it in public without feeling embarrassed or having to say, "No, it's a boy". Just to clear this up.... Takaani is eskimo for Wolf... just one more reason why I believe the original owner wasn't thinking clearly. That name is straight off any Malamute website..... he obviously did not use his imagination. Well enough badgering someone I don't know.... We picked up Kahn from the Food Lion parking lot in Inwood WV. thats where I met Andrew his temporary parent. Andrew really liked Kahn, but he had a wife who just couldn't handle a malamute. Plus there was the issue of Kahn being crated all day long that really disturbed me. Dash and Kahn didn't hit it off right away, but 24 hrs later they're best friends. Now my cats are a different story. Kahn seems to think he can fit all 6 of them in his mouth at one time. If he really wanted them dead... they'd all be dead... he really just likes the chase, but it's too upsetting to the normal calm I'm used to. Because of this, we've decided Kahn will need to go to yet another home. Here you can see one of our kitties behind him in the chair, but I have to stay on constant lookout, because should the cat move... he's on 'em. I've written about Blaze our first boy and best friend. We still miss him and visit his memorial on Rainbows Bridge often. I was just there last week to say hi and Happy Birthday. In my search for local Malamute breeders (trying to find info on Kahn), I discovered a couple only 10 minutes from where I got Kahn, had lost their Malamute less than a month ago. Realizing how difficult it would be I offered them my sincere condolences before I told them of my situation. Were they Malamute Breeders I asked.... did they know a local Malamute breeder? No was their response, but buried in my quest for information was the completely unintentional possibility that they themselves might be interested in Kahn. Well, they met that same night, and tomorrow they'll take him home for a trial visit. If he works out, then he'll return to us sunday night to stay the week and then be theirs for keeps. They have to go out of town for 5 days and we all agree it would be less upsetting for Kahn to come here than go to a kennel. When I visited Blazes memorial last week, I told him how we were going to meet a new puppy. Any assistance he could give us would really be appreciated, because Kahn needed our help. When Kahn wouldn't stop chasing the cats I said maybe Blaze hadn't gotten the message, and then I came across Bill and Lois's memorial to their Malamute, Kodiak. Kodiak was Blazes name when we got him from the shelter. I guess Blaze got the message afterall.

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.