In Other News........

Besides yesterday’s earthquake, our area was in the news for something else pretty significant and historical. SpaceShipOne was launched just a few miles from here and lots of local folks were there to watch. The daughter-in-law of a friend of mine, just began a job at Mr. Rutan’s company, so her whole family was invited to see history in the making. How cool is that? It’s something that our Papa would have loved to witness.

Speaking of cool and SpaceShipOne….Ab has a classmate, whose father also works for Mr. Rutan. So he had each of the kids in the class do an art project that is going to go up in space during the next flight, which may be next Monday. Each item will be "stamped" somehow showing the details of the flight! Definitely something to frame and pass on down for generations! Ab said she drew her name on a lime green background, and then decorated it with flames and nautical stars! Now that’s cool! Tam and I decided that it’s way more cool than the letter she received from President Reagan when she was a little girl!

More exciting stuff….Ab’s lamb placed 10th in the "market showing" portion of the county fair yesterday! She did excellent for her first time! She remained in control of the lamb, posing him the proper way for him to catch the judges eye and it must have worked, because there were 17 lambs in her class and she did pretty darn good. Papa was surely watching this event from above!

Tomorrow is the auction portion and we’ll, say "So long" to Jake. ::Sniff:: Maybe. That is…….if he is purchased at auction. I hear they usually go for about $3.00 a pound. We’ll see.

Lamb chops anyone?

(I know…I am soooo baaaaaaaaaad! Get it? Baaaaaaaaaa-like in sheep speak?)

A Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On.......

Here’s what’s been shakin’ around here! Really, shaking. 5.0 on the Richter Scale.

Earth-shattering news for sure!

At 3:55 today our little town was rattled again by the White Wolf fault, that shoots off the famous and huge San Andreas Fault that we just happen to sit upon. And, not very securely, I might add. In 1952 this mountain town was severely damaged by a deadly quake that took the lives of several people as they slept early that morning. Fortunately, today there was no significant damage from what I’ve been told. At work we found a broken steam pipe under one of the buildings, but since that place is so old, they’re really not sure when the break occurred. But, good looking out to whomever found it.

I never used to be concerned about earthquakes. Having been in this area all my life, I am used to them and didn’t fear them in the least. In fact, I found them rather interesting and would just enjoy the experience as a fascinating part of life. That is, until about 4-5 years ago, when we had two serious shakers in about 2 hours. I think it was the Landers and the Big Bear quakes that particular day. They were the strongest I had ever experienced and I gained a healthy respect for the power of Mother Nature right then and there. I can’t remember if that was before the horrifying Northridge quake or not. But that one was a real thriller too and of course, the devastation to those in the immediate area was incredible.

We Californians know that we are way overdue for the BIG ONE and we always joke about the ocean front property we’ll have. I am just hoping that it’s not anything like the one that was in Iran not too long ago, where they had to bury something like….50,000 poor souls. Scary.

Wish You Were Here...........

You do not have a soul.

You are a soul.

You have a body.

~ C. S. Lewis

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I survived my first week back at work since Papa’s death. I knew it would be rough, and it was since everything is still so fresh. Raw is probably a better word to describe my emotional state. One little touch and it begins to hurt, bad. Really bad. My friendly co-workers gave me hugs, kisses and sweet condolences and those poor souls who didn’t comment about it, were subject to hearing about it anyway. Then my tears would start to well up. Then I’d get sad and embarrassed. Then they are horribly uncomfortable and probably hoping for a quick getaway or a well-timed interruption.

Obviously, I am human but sometimes I hate that part of me that is just sooooo…..well, fragile. Cute commercials can make me cry. If you are a fan of country music…have you noticed how many songs have to do with death lately? Now one of those will just about put me over the edge, teetering as I am. I know, it’s part of the natural grieving process. Some of it is probably menopause. Most of it is just me.

In my entry the other day about my faith being tested, I mentioned that I had been looking for a sign, from God or Papa, letting me know that all is well with his soul and that I will see him again. I have really been looking. But, I realize that it’s like looking for love. It’s going to happen when you least expect it, not when you are searching.

Papa alwaysenjoyed watching the Red Tail Hawks, (known as Messenger of the Gods in Native American lore) soar above our mountains. He always considered it a wonderful sign from the creator, especially, if one flew right over us as we were driving. We were then sure of good news, a great day or something special happening in our lives.

So, as I drove home for lunch on Thursday, I was especially sad, mourning my loss. Listening to my favorite country station, I heard 3 songs in a row, that had to do with death.

I became teary and overwhelmed with the sadness that I felt, missing my father. But I listened carefully to the words of the last song, a song about Heaven that was playing at the very moment that I saw my sign……….

A huge, majestic red-tail hawk, circled over the road right in front of me!

He soared, soaring higher and higher and over me once more, just as the lyrics said………..

Wish you were here, wish you could see this place! Wish you were near, I wish I could touch your face. The weather’s nice, it’s paradise…….. Wish you were here!

Coincidence?  Maybe.  I'd rather think it was my sign from Papa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wish You Were Here~Mark Wills

They kissed goodbye at the terminal gate
She said, "You're gonna be late if you don't go"
He held her tight, said, "I'll be alright
I'll call you tonight to let you know"
He bought a postcard, on the front it just said Heaven
With a picture of the ocean and the beach
And the simple words he wrote her
Said he loved her and they told her
How he'd hold her if his arms would reach

Wish you were here, wish you could see this place
Wish you were near, I wish I could touch your face
The weather's nice, it's paradise
It's summertime all year and there's some folks we know
They say, "Hello, I miss you so, wish you were here."

She got a call that night but it wasn't from him
It didn't sink in right away, ma'am the plane went down
Our crews have searched the ground
No survivors found she heard him say
But somehow she got a postcard in the mail
That just said Heaven with a picture of the ocean and the beach
And the simple words he wrote her
Said he loved her and they told her
How he'd love her if his arms would reach

Wish you were here, wish you could see this place
Wish you were near, I wish I could touch your face
The weather's nice, it's paradise
It's summertime all year and there's some folks we know
They say, "Hello, I miss you so, wish you were here"

The weather's nice, in paradise
It's summertime all year and all the folks we know
They say, "Hello, I miss you so, wish you were here"
Wish you were here

Happy as a Pig in a Poke.......

This guy was enjoying the weather at our County Fair a lot more than me today!  It was about 97 degrees down there.  Yuk. 

Ab joined Junior Farmers this year, and has been raising a lamb to show and sell at the fair, and it's finally that time!  I think she was kinda anxious about it all this morning, because we had to pull over on the side of the road so she could puke.  That's never happened before.  But there again, she's never done anything like this, ever.  She was fine the rest of the day, thank goodness.

Today was the health check and weigh in and Jake weighed 121 pounds.  He was healthy, happy and well behaved.  Tomorrow is the "showmanship" portion of the event where the kids are judged in the ring. Tuesday the lamb will be judged in the "market show" portion and Friday, the lambs will be sold at auction.  Thankfully, she's not too attached.  I believe she sees the dollar signs a'coming.   

The kids were busy doing the last minute shearing today and that's quite a job in itself, especially in this heat.  It was impressive to see them all work together and help one another to get the job done.  

Ab was there from about 12 noon until 8:00 this evening and she was dirty, hungry and tired when it was all said and done.  She's going to have to sleep fast, because she's got to be there at..... ::cringe::....6:30 a.m. tomorrow to bathe Jake before the showmanship trial.  I'll post pictures of them both later! 

Wish her luck! 

I've Gotta Have Faith.........

Never have I been accused of being "religious." I would say that I’ve been more of a spiritual person instead. My maternal grandmother probably fostered a lot of that thinking, as she was way before her time with her "New Age" ideas.

I was baptized in the Lutheran Church as a little one. I remember enjoying the ritual aspects of the services, and can still sing my favorite hymn…Praise God from whom all blessings flooooow, Praise Him all creatures here beloooooow……

We moved a lot, so we weren’t always attending a Lutheran church, sometimes it was one of those "hell-fire and brimstone" kind. Services at those churches often scared me into believing what they wanted me to believe. I often wondered if being "saved" actually turned you into a wholly different person. Back then, the very thought of more change in my life really frightened me. Besides, I was a well behaved, smart little girl and I was God-fearing. But my "God" was my parents, since I knew they meant business. I’d get whipped with a switch from the Elm tree or the razor strap in the bathroom. That was enough to deter me from veering off the straight and narrow. I can only remember one time that I needed to go pick out the switch.

As an adult, I haven’t been much into what I consider the confines of organized, traditional religion, rather, I strive to live my life in a very loving, kind, moral and ethical way. I have tried hard to believe in a "higher power" but I have doubted His existence.

My faith, or what little I had, was horribly shaken a few years back when my wonderful, loving sister Kim, (a 39 year old extremely good mother of two) was diagnosed and eventually died of a rare form of breast cancer, shortly after her diagnosis. Of all people, I felt that Kim was the last person that should suffer such a tragedy, since she’d had way more than her share of hard knocks in life. Kim’s situation caused me to question God. A loving God? What kind of loving God allowed things like that to happen?

I reacted by spiraling into a deep depression, and I began searching for answers. It was then that I picked up thebook, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, by Rabbi Harold Kushner. It all began to click. God didn’t "DO" these things to people. He didn’t sit up there and say, "Hmmmmm, today I think I will give Kim, ummmmm let’s see…Inflammatory Breast Cancer and let it ravage her body within a year. She’ll leave her two young children behind to be raised by their diabetic, disabled father and they’ll all learn what tough times are all about! Yes, that’s what I’ll do."

That book caused me to change my thinking and count my blessings, realizing that life is a journey and basically, we all face challenges and trials, and truly, lots of crap happens. Some of us are luckier than others and some folks have it roll right on by. I’ve certainly had my share of late, but I know of others who have had way more to deal with in their lives. God knows that Papa had more than anyone should have to endure in one lifetime, over the past couple of years and in his younger days, when he had Cancer and TB.

After seeing the movie, The Passion of the Christ, I became convinced that God was real. I wanted to believe, with all my heart. I had faith like never before.

But once again………….my faith is being tested and I find myself looking for a sign from God, or Papa….that all is well with his beautiful soul, that I will see him again, that life is eternal.

I am so sad and doubtful.

Can you hear me now?

I used to be really good at listening to others. It’s really important in my line of work and I’ve had some excellent training in crisis management and negotiations. That training was very helpful to me, especially since I truly believe I have a form of attention deficit disorder. I learned to focus on the person, and to try to determine what they were really saying. I learned feedback, and paraphrasing what you believed they were saying and asking for clarification when necessary. I learned to ask open-ended questions, to get people to talk, especially about themselves.

But, I think I’ve lost a lot of that ability and frankly, my interest due to depression and all the stress in my life the past couple of years. Too wrapped up in my own issues. Anymore, I really have to make myself to listen to others for any length of time because before long, I am zoning out. Gone. I am in another world. I guess I should really try meditation, huh.

Sometimes when I am driving, I have to consciously make myself pay attention. Scary. I’ll be on auto-pilot and hoping that my guardian angel is riding along.

The below article is from YOUR LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM, a free, online inspirational newsletter, published by Steve Goodier, to which I subscribe. It was interesting that today’s message would be about listening, because I’ve been doing a lot of talking about my father’s death, and people have actually been listening. Really, really listening.

I am so impressed.

I am so very grateful.

Talking helps.

Their listening helps even more.

 

WHO LISTENS?

Two psychiatrists met at their 20th college reunion. One is
vibrant, while the other looks withered and worried. "So what's
your secret?" the older looking psychiatrist asked. "Listening to
other people's problems every day, all day long, for years on
end, has made an old man of me."

"So," replies the younger-looking one, "who listens?"

Unfortunately, that is too often a problem -- who listens?  REALLY
listens?

I received a letter from a woman who lives in New York. She
explained that her 22-year-old electrician son went to Manhattan a few days after the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. He wanted to volunteer his time, but discovered that his skills were not needed.

Joe may have helped in a way he never anticipated, for on the
train home, he sat across from a weary firefighter covered in
what appeared to be "ground zero" dirt and debris. Though he
could see bits of rock in the man's hair and noticed that his
hands were bloody, what shocked the young man most was the look in the firefighter's eyes. They appeared lifeless and dull.

Then the man began to talk and Joe listened. He talked about
retrieving a shoe with a foot inside. Joe listened. He talked
about cleaning debris from a face, then discovering that this
person's body was gone. Joe listened. And as his listened, he did not flinch. He did not react in disgust. He did not judge. He did
not interrupt. He just listened.

He listened as the firefighter lamented about the carnage
everywhere and about shoes...there were so many shoes, he said.

Everywhere...shoes.

Through it all Joe quietly held the man's attention and listened,
which is exactly what the rescue worker needed at that moment.

And because he listened, the man continued to speak. He talked his pain out, as much as possible. And Joe, for that time at
least, helped him carry his unbelievably heavy burden.

That day Joe did not give blood, nor did he use his electrical
skills to help with the relief effort. But he did one of the most
important things a human can do for another. He gave a stunned
and disheartened man his whole attention, and thereby immeasurably assisted in the work of setting the world right.

Mary Lou Casey says, "What people really need is a good
listening-to."

Now more than ever.

- By Steve Goodier

http://www.lifesupportsystem.com

 

From Here to Reality...................

Yep, back to reality. 

I knew when Ab said she and Tam, had a "lot of fun!" while I was gone, that the house would not be in the same shape as when I left.  

Well, in some instances it was the same. 

The same CLEAN dishes were in the dishwasher, so the dirty ones were piled in the sink, if they even made it to the sink....the same dirty clothes were ready to be washed, there were just others added to the pile and more filling up the floor space in Ab's room. 

The same school uniforms and other clean clothes that I folded before I left remained on Papa's bed, unnoticed.  So Ab wore her cleanest, dirty uniforms for the past couple of days.

The same trash remained in the downstair's bathroom, with some added to the point of it over-flowing to the floor.  Ditto for the kitchen trash can. 

Ok....in all fairness, as Tam used to say to Papa and would probably say to me right now..."YOU exaggerate soooooo much!" 

Wrong........

It's just great to be home.

Love Comforteth.....

                                             Like Sunshine After Rain

                       ~William Shakespeare

 

I arrived home last night after a much needed mini-vacation at the beautiful home of my Uncle Lee and Aunt Sherry on the Northern California coast.  It was exactly what this grieving soul needed and I hated to leave one of the most peaceful retreats that I have ever experienced. 

I was pampered with good food, wonderful company and conversation, awesome scenery, loving hugs, and time to remember and cry when I felt the need, which was often.  

There were lots of outstanding photo opportunities and I can't wait to share them with you in both my journals.   I took the above photo in a home that has an actual working lighthouse overlooking the Brookings, Oregon Harbor.  That's a whole entry (or several) in itself and I can't wait to write all those fascinating "lighthouse" stories!    

A special addition to this trip was the chance to get together with my friend from AOL journal-land....Lisa @ Coming to Terms with Middle Age.  She is a tiny person with a beautiful, loving spirit, opinionated and passionate about her life and what we "see" in her journal is what we get! 

Lisa has been a great support to me throughout this period of my Dad's illness and death, so it was great to meet her and visit in person.  It seemed as though we were old friends right from the start and we had a great afternoon!  You can read her take on it and see photos by clicking the link below! 

http://journals.aol.com/mlraminiak/ComingtotermswithMiddleAge/ 

And....remember the camera adds about 10 pounds......so please be kind. 

I will write more about my entire mini-vacation in the coming days.   

I am mostly a mountain person.  Ever since I was a little California girl and despite growing up with the ocean just a few miles from our front door, I have loved the mountain's textured beauty, the vibrant and ever changing colors and the fresh, clean scents that fill my lungs and make me feel alive. 

California people have it so good.  The best of both worlds, just within a short driving distance.  When I was a kid, my family took many day trips to Big Bear, Crestline, and Wrightwood and that's when I really fell in love with the glorious creations of Mother Nature.....Crystal blue lakes, surrounded by tall pine trees, casting shadows across the rippling water. 

The rhythmic sounds of the Woodpeckers and discovering their handywork in the trees and cabins.  Tasting the brilliant white snow and making snow angels......breathing in the cool, crisp mountain air, the scent of pine.    

I am so happy that I have had the opportunity to live in this little mountain community that I call home, for the past 24 years.  I never take it for granted and I try to drink in it's beauty every day.

But, there's another side of me that is a beach person.  I have to feed that side of me too.  I love to vacation around water.  After all, I was a surfer girl.  I am mesmerized by the ocean and the daily changes of the tide. 

And fortunately, I have family that lives in Smith River, on the stunning California redwood coast.  I mean....right on the coast.  In a gorgeous home that overlooks the ocean, with a little private path to the beach below. 

The above photo, of the beach right below their house is one of my favorites, that I took when visiting my Aunt and Uncle's place last summer.  I love this photo so much that I use it on my computer "desktop." 

So, on Saturday morning, I am leaving to spend a few days with my Aunt and Uncle and replenish my ocean lovin' side.  Trish, my best friend and the one who helped me nurse Papa, is going along.  We deserve it and we need it after what we've been through. 

Now is the time.  We will enjoy our quiet time on the patio, watching the tide.  We'll walk the beach and leave footprints in the sand.  I'll take photos.  Lots of photos, because there's so much subject matter.  

We'll allow my family to pamper us with their wonderful cooking and hospitality.  They'll both keep us entertained.  My Uncle Lee can tell a great story just like Papa and he's lived such an interesting life.  

But.... my gosh, he looks so much like my dad.  I wonder if I can stand that part?    

What a Catch!

Taking those online psychological quizzes can be kinda fun and some can be amazingly accurate.  This one, in my humble opinion has been the most accurate for me, ever. 

Here's the link as supplied by AbsintheMndLogic (the "Sex Bomb" herself) in case you'd like to take it yourself......The Relationship Quiz

Taaaa Daaaahhh, the results..........

I am an XPIG-Expressive Practical Intellectual Giver and it says, this makes me a......Catch!  (now this is what I have been tellin' Chuck all along--oh well, his loss!) 

Anyway, It says..........

You are a magazine-cover, matinee idol dreamboat. (Don't c'ha know?)

Parents love you and want to set you up with their kids.  (Of course their kid should be about 45-50 years old.  Ok, well maybe 38.  No younger than 35, really.)

However, first dates are tough because it takes time for your qualities to come out. (keep 'em guessing, is what I always say!)  

You are generous and kind. (an understatement) 

You think first and act later.  (that's 'cause I is smart!)

You are cool in a conflict, but your practical side means if your partner throws out emotional appeals ("why can't we do what I want for a change") they will grate on your nerves, even when the conflict is resolved.  (Yeah...forgive, but never forget what you forgave, that's me alright.)

You're a romantic.  (:sigh: Still waitin' on my Prince Charming!)

You enjoy the thrill of the hunt and you just don't fall into bed with anyone. (Separate hotel rooms, right Chuck? I am definitely not easy!) 

You pay close attention to your significant other's needs and this makes you an excellent lover and partner. (Chuck, Chuck...what are you thinkin' darlin'?)  The problem is that your friends and lovers (implying more than one?) may find it so easy to express things to "you" that they lose sight of whether you feel as comfortable with "Them!"  This doesn't necessarily make you feel under-appreciated-you're too well adjusted and self-aware for that-but you may feel restless.  Thus you seek adventure (is Bunco twice a month considered adventurous?) in your life outside the relationship to prove and actualize yourself.

Of all the types, you would make the best parent. (My children should say Amen to that!  Well most of 'em-two are teenagers and what do they know anyhow?)

You are coiffed. (Does that mean I get my hair done regularly, like at a beauty shop?)

Didja see "Big Fish?"  'Cause you're like Ewan MacGregor in that movie. (Nope, didn't see it, but will now.  I hope he found his true love, since I expect a happy ending....romantic that I am.  ::big sigh::)

Of the 63289 people who have taken this quiz, 8.4 % are this type.

GAWD I AM sooooo SPECIAL!!!!!

 

 

 

 

The below advertisement in the form of a newsletter really got me thinking about my middle age life. 

Things have got to change and I have to be responsible to make those changes.

Sometimes it takes really getting mad at myself to spur those changes, like deciding to get serious about losing weight.  Right now, I really don't care enough to do what it takes to get rid of about 50 pounds of extra me.

My "inner child" as my fat doctor calls it, is saying "I want that chocolate.  I deserve that chocolate and besides people ::hands on hips:: my dad just died!"    

Other times it's that 50-year old body of mine that finally does a little something to sorta get my attention.  At first I will just contribute "it" to stress, depression or menopause and I just pretend that if I ignore it long enough, it will all go away soon. 

It doesn't.

It revolts. 

I take notice. 

This time it's female problems.  And....they could be very serious female problems.  Biopsy results are pending.  A hysterectomy may be the least of my problems, depending on those results. 

So, yesterday....for the first time in about 5 years, I got a mammogram.  Now, I could make a million excuses on why I haven't gone in all that time.  But the truth is, I had the referrals in my hand, had appointments I "couldn't make" and just flat (pun intended) out didn't wanna go! 

I am considered "high risk" since I lost a sister to a very rare form of breast cancer.  I've also had two rather large lumps removed from one breast in the past 20 years.  You'd think I'd make those mammograms a priority.  Nah. 

But, now that I know that I am all that Ab has anymore......I am going to start making all of this stuff a priority.  Plus, I wanna live a mid-life like the one's described below.

But, please, will someone give me a swift kick in the rear to get me started?

September, 2004

What's the Secret to Making Midlife the Best Time of Life? Look around you. Today, millions of midlife women are looking, feeling and living better than ever before.

After spending much of their lives taking care of other people, they are finally free to focus on themselves, and are discovering that midlife can be a time rich in self-discovery, joy and transformation.  (color change and emphasis is mine!)

Chicken Soup to Inspire a Woman's Soul shares the true experiences of midlife women who are having the time of their lives--women who are feeling more confidence, freedom and greater self-acceptance. Their shining examples offer inspiration for others who are revitalizing their lives and dreams, and will help women greet these years as the celebrated rite of passage they're meant to be.

These stories convey the pleasures of enduring and unexpected friendships, the familiarity and fire of romantic relationships, the changing dynamics of family connections, and the endless possibilities that new adventures bring.   (bring them on!)

Chicken Soup to Inspire a Woman's Soul will help you honor where you have been, appreciate what you've accomplished and realize that the best is yet to come. It's the perfect gift to give yourself or another woman you love.

Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen are the #1 New York Times bestselling coauthors of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. They have dedicated their lives to the personal and professional development of others. Stephanie Marston is the coauthor of Chicken Soup for the Soul Life Lessons and the author of If Not Now, When: Reclaiming Ourselves at Midlife. She is a speaker and the president of Life Quality Seminars, a company that supports women in balancing life's competing priorities.

Have a DAY...........

Despite the fact that I have accomplished and crossed off so many things on my "must do" list, there’s still enough to keep me busy for quite awhile. If I didn’t have all of this "stuff" to do right now, I’d probably be a lot crazier.

I had a quite a few rough spots yesterday. For the most part, I am fine, but then something occurs to me that I’d like to share with Papa or a nice little memory crosses my mind. Then I well up with the tears and they just flow. I couldn’t stop them even if I tried. It happens at the most inconvenient times. Something as simple as "How are you?" or "Mom, You’re having a bad day, aren’t you?" can open up my flood gates. Hearing a well-meaning clerk say "Have a nice day!" can sometimes make me want to scream, "My father just DIED!" Of course, I am not that type of person, so I just smile and say thanks. 

Actually, I did use the "I’m sorry. We just had a death in the family!" line yesterday with a door-to door Kirby vacuum salesman who just wanted to demonstrate his machine and do a "complimentary carpet cleaning."

I bet they don’t hear that one too often.

So, instead of saying "Have a nice day!" He offered his sympathy and went away, which is exactly what I wanted him to do.

Right now I feel as if I will never have a nice day again. My rational side realizes that’s not true. The little girl side of me wants to sit in the middle of the floor, kick and scream, place my hands over my ears and yell, "NO, NO, NO! Make it all go away!" ::pout::

I am procrastinating big time about one major thing on my "to do" list…..the thank-you cards to all, and I mean all…of those who have been so kind….sent cards, flowers or plants, brought food, soda and paper goods, and/or just provided a much needed helping hand or emotional support through all of this ordeal.

As much as I love to write, the thought of having to personalize all those cards is just overwhelming right now. 

But, as I always ask the kids when they have a big project and they don't know where to start......'How would you eat an elephant?'  

Answer:  One little bite at a time, and you keep eating until it's gone.   

Maybe I will be in a better frame of mind next week.

Back to School

Dang I wish Grandma had been able to take that box of See’s Chocolates back to Oklahoma with her. I just can’t resist them. But, they’re nearly gone so I won’t have to worry about it much longer.

Abbie’s in bed already, since her school starts tomorrow. She’s a big 8th grader already. Right now I’m hearing some horrible music emanating from her bedroom, that couldn’t be conducive to a good night’s sleep. But she’s an aspiring rock star and drummer, so that "music" isn’t bothering her in the least. Summer has caused her to get her days and nights mixed up. I was always in bed waaaay before she was even getting her evening started. So, she’s used to getting up bright and early around….oh….12:30 or 1:00ish every day. It’s going to probably take her awhile to get back with the program.

Tonight was her "Back to School" night. Since she goes to a private school, she has one teacher and just 15 kids in her class. It’s good for her since she’s so easily distracted. Last year, she had a combined 7th/8th grade class with the same teacher that she’ll have now as an 8th grader. I think she’s kind of lucked out by having a teacher who’s already familiar with her strengths and weaknesses. This teacher is really amazing and I think she uses some great learning tools, and she incorporates a lot of art and writing in her teaching.

She is an accomplished quilter and this year each of the kids in her class will be fortunate to make a small quilt, with her help. The parents and the kids are pretty excited! Last year the teacher donated one of her quilts for a fund-raiser and Abbie bought $30.00 worth of tickets for the drawing. She really wanted to win that beautiful creation, but unfortunately, she didn’t. At least it’s sparked an interest in the art form.

The teacher has planned a 2 day field trip, later in the year, to our State Capitol so the kids can see the legislature in action. I have volunteered to be a parent chaperone and actually "sleep" in a hotel room with some of the girls. Right now I am wondering what I was thinking.

I may live to regret signing up for that one.

Frog Giggin' and My Newest Fans!

If I told the whole story, it’d be worthy of several journal entries, so we’ll get to that later. But, for now, I will just tell you that my father was quite a looker in his younger days and he used it to his advantage with my teenage mama.

That Okie teenager made his way to sunny California and worked in the Los Angeles area, at "The Clock" drive-in; kinda like the one that Richie and the "Fonz" hung out at in "Happy Days!"

According to my father, I was conceived in the back seat of his souped-up 1947 Ford.

Ahhhh romance.

My Uncle Lee just filled me in on a little bit more of the story…..Papa told Mama that he was a struggling Hollywood actor and it must’a worked!

The rest is history. Me…..an only child, with a whole lot of brothers and sisters, all that have different mothers or fathers, as the case may be. Remember, Papa was a lover, not an accountant. Mom, well…she did her share of lovin’ too.

Anyway…for reasons beyond my control and again, a whole ‘nother entry, I didn’t become part of my Okie family until I was about 24 years old, I think. I am now 50. You can do the math.

That was probably a really good thing.

Why, you ask?

My Okie cousins! Oh, my GAWD! Yep, Monty, Larry and Mackey.

Drop-dead gorgeous fellas as adults and they couldn’t have been someone that you’d wanna run off with a stick as a kid. Oh, and those Okie accents!  Mmmmm!

I’d have been in some serious trouble. Or, maybe they would have been, because I was certainly the picture of California sweetness and innocence.

I can just see it now. I’d come to Oklahoma for a summer-time visit, totally unsophisticated to those rural ways….and they’d wanna take me giggin’ frogs (eeeewwww) or "Snipe Hunting."

I've heard all about y’all’s snipe hunting and stuff!  And, they're "good Catholic boys", to boot!

Those Okie boys can be down right dangerous!

Always a Sunrise

"Sunrise" Oil Painting on Canvas by Trudy Kline Roth
"I paint for pleasure and with the hope that I will leave a little something of myself behind for
my children and grandchildren. And if someone wants to give me money for it, well, that's all right too."

ALWAYS A SUNRISE

Look out, look in. Every day has a sunrise.
Wherever you are, like a magic circle, the world is all around you.
Everything has a purpose. Every action a reaction.
All around you there are happenings.

People, places and ideas, all offering you opportunities.
Some to be touched and changed by the very nature of your uniqueness.
Others to be left alone for they are not worthy of you.
Life is a love affair. Love the people around you, love what you do.

Every day dawns with a sunrise. Always, high days and low days.
Blue skies of pleasure, there to enjoy. Celebrate.
Dark clouds of storming hurt, however black, they always pass.
Today was yesterday’s tomorrow; yesterday is gone. History.
And the wonder of yesterday is whatever we didn’t like is behind us.
Make a change. Unlimited you. Greatness from within.

There is no such thing as failure, only learning experiences.
Some things are easy to learn, others hard.
What is easy for one may be hard for another.
Lessons to be learned, not burdens to be carried.
Everyone is different. Everyone is special.
We are all creative. We are all tool makers.

Greatness and humility. Both are you.
Leader and follower. Warrior and water carrier.
Teacher and student. Champion and cheerleader. Who is to say?
One day you are one, the next day you are the other.
Pace setters tread the untrodden path.
Never given away your sunrise day of action to an excuse.

'When the time is right.' 'When I feel like it.' 'When I've enough money.'
Sometimes it’s too easy to justify not taking action.
Sometimes you have to say 'no' to your inner voice ...
when it tries to keep you too comfortably where you're at.
Always a new light. Always a new day. Each day a gift of opportunity.
There is always a sunrise even when it is far from our view.

There is always a door. We simply have to seek.
There is always a key. We simply have to persist.
And, sometimes, we just have to wait a while. Patience does have virtue.
There is always a future. The future is hope and the magic is faith.

It begins with you today. Today a new day. Always.
Today our decision to be the person we really want to be.
Today our choice of courage to accept what we cannot change.
Today our choice to rise to the challenge of changing what we must.
These are the choices of happiness.

Always an answer. You simply have to believe.
The dawn. The magic of a new day given to us.
A love affair. A love affair with today.
Today, a gift of opportunity; to laugh; to learn; to achieve;
to make someone happy, to be happy.
Always a sunrise.

~ By Rex Barker

Breakfast at Henry's

My oldest daughter really marvels at my ability to enjoy doing things alone. It hasn’t always been that way, but I guess as I’ve matured, I’ve become very comfortable in my own skin and pretty much….I am not afraid of anything. After working in a prison for nearly 24 years, I’ve learned to trust my instincts, awareness and observations. I just ain’t skeered!

I can totally enjoy a business trip, or a day of treasure hunting in dusty antique stores and even sitting in a restaurant all by myself. Driving long distances alone doesn’t bother me at all. If I have to fly alone, I probably won’t start up a conversation with my seat partner, but if they are so inclined and I am in the right frame of mind, I will take that opportunity to enjoy meeting someone new. If I am not up to chatting, I can gently make it known that I’m caught up in a fascinating book or something.

Time alone means I can think without interruption, listen to my favorite music and sing along with it at the top of my lungs if I choose, people watch and read to my heart’s content. I don’t have the word "b-o-r-e-d" in my vocabulary.

Weekend breakfast at Henry’s Café was such a routine for our family that it’s going to be difficult for me to go it alone, especially if Ab’s got other plans. The only time I went to Henry’s alone was when Papa was hospitalized, so I could update them on his condition. Otherwise, it was always Papa and I, reading the newspaper and sharing our thoughts on the world at large, Ab with the Sunday comics, eating her signature breakfast cheeseburger and Bubba flirting with the "hot" young hostess, while she filled up his coffee cup. Papa allowed Bubba to drink coffee, over my strong objections. He and Papa were pretty tight, and situations like that just reinforced their bond. After breakfast Papa’d always take us for a doughnut. Abbie could live on donuts.

So, what prompted this entry was the fact that Ab and I had planned to go to Henry’s this morning, but she ended up spending the night with Noel, across the street. I was sitting here thinking about going to Henry’s by myself, but I just couldn’t find the strength and that made me really sad.

Then all of a sudden, Abbie came through the front door and said, "Mom, I’ve already had breakfast, but I’ll still go with you to Henry’s!

That’s my girl!

I said, "How about if we go for a donut when we’re finished?"

Just Stuff..........

I don't know how I did it, but I finally was able to put my Hall of Fame Inductee graphic in my "About Me" section, which is pretty cool.  Thanks to Slo for designing it for us!

Life...as I will know it from this point forward, is starting.  The "first day of the rest of my life" and all that crap.  It's now just Ab and I, or is it.....me and Ab? I never can get that English rule straight.   

Anyway, today I took Grandma and Aunt Mary to the big city for their flight back to Oklahoma.  I really hated to see them go.  

But there was one positive thing about it.  A couple of days ago, I bought Grandma a 2 pound box of See's Chocolates for her upcoming 88th birthday, and darn it, she could not squeeze it in her luggage, despite trying her best!  

Unfortunately, she had to leave it behind.

(Now if that were me, I'd have removed and tossed the appropriate amount of clothing to fit those chocolates in my suitcase!)  Since the box was already opened and some had been eaten, I couldn't take it back to the store.  It probably wouldn't be a good idea to mail it to her, since it would probably just all melt into a big sticky mess in this heat. 

So....dang it, I guess we'll just have to eat the rest. 

Did I mention I just love See's Candies? 

(Ok, ok. ::hanging my head in shame::  I'll order her another box from the company and have it delivered to her house in time for her birthday!  By the way, my dear cousins, Monty and Larry.....Grandma's birthday is the 15th of this month!) 

After I dropped the ladies off at the airport, I took Ab and her best friend for a fun afternoon at the Antelope Valley Fair.  I gave the girls a meeting point and check in times, and let them off on their own, while I looked at all the exhibits.  At their age, they don't want to be seen with an adult, if they can help it.  So, I spent quite a bit of time looking at the photography entries in an effort to learn more about my new hobby.  I had planned to enter some of our photos in the fair this year, but with Papa's health and all, we just didn't get around to it.  Maybe next year. 

It's really quiet in here now, as Ab's spending the night with Noel, her friend and tomorrow they have a shopping trip planned.   I hope to take advantage of that time to continue getting this house in order. 

Yesterday, I took a bunch of old household stuff to the Eastern Star ladies for their yard sale.  I even resorted to taking some pictures off the wall that I planned on replacing in my remodeling project. Also, I took them every worn looking bath towel so I can replace them too.  If I was more ambitious, I'd have a huge garage sale myself and make a few bucks.  But the thought of all that work....uggghhh.  It's much  easier to take it to the local thrift shops and let them deal with it all. 

Well, I am off to bed for some much needed beauty sleep.  Nite all.    

Papa's Eulogy

This is the eulogy I wrote and presented for Papa's memorial service on Saturday, August 28, 2004.

John Morgan "Jim" Newman

Ronald Reagan once said, "I know in my heart that man is good, that what is right will always eventually triumph and that there is purpose and worth to each and every life."

On behalf of the entire Newman family, I thank you for attending this celebration of my father’s worthy life; a journey that was filled with love and a lot of laughter. A life that was truly an example of all that is good, honest and right. We believe he is looking down from Heaven and is certainly awed, seeing this outpouring of love and recognition. I believe that everyone’s life is an amazing story just waiting to be told and I hope that you’ll bear with me while I share some of my fathers.

John Morgan Newman, also known as "Jim, JM and Papa" to those closest to him, was a long time resident of this community. He was born in Muldrow, Oklahoma on January 28, 1936 to Jessie Chitwood-Spencer and Henry C. Newman. He died peacefully at home on Wednesday, August 25, 2004 after a long struggle with diabetes and liver disease.

Preceding him in death was his father, Henry, sister; Brenda, step-father;  "Sarge" Dunn and two infant sons; James and Morgan.

He is survived by his mother, Jessie; daughters, Lisa and Abigail; sons, Noel (Yvette), Sean, Justin (Christy), Parker (Wendy), and Joel; sister, Mary and brother and sister-in-law, Lee and Sherry. He is also survived by his eldest grandchildren, Tamara and Scott (Kerry), whom he raised as his own, and his other grandchildren; Riley, Tonacey and Cindy.  The family gratefully acknowledges Tricia for her loving nursing and family assistance during Papa’s long illness, and his final days. She is truly an angel.

Thanks to the staff of Hoffmann Hospice, his last days were pain-free, and filled with loving care and the tender good-byes of his family, who surrounded him as he passed over to the spirit world.

Despite the illness that cut his life too short, he never lost his sense of humor, even toward the end. A few weeks back, while he lay on a gurney at the hospital awaiting a procedure, I stood by his side. He looked up at my saggy, double chin and said, "Did you change your mind about that plastic surgery?" I said, "Well Papa, you’ve been so sick that I haven’t been able to get that done!" and he replied, "You may just want to reconsider that pretty soon!" One day recently, my Aunt Mary and I were huffing and puffing and "sweating like goats" (which is pure Okie talk), as we were tending to him and changing his bed. He looked over at us, shook his head and said, "440 pounds of PURE MENOPAUSE!"

He retired from the state correctional system in 1998, after a 17 year career as a Correctional Officer and a highly respected Correctional Counselor. He loved his work and was pleased to share his knowledge and experience with his coworkers, and act as a supervisor when asked. He was considered a devoted and motivated staff member and was often selected to participate in various special assignments in headquarters. Additionally, in May of 1995, he was honored as Employee of the Month. For over 10 years he was a staff sponsor for the inmate’s Alcoholics Anonymous and Native American self-help groups. His investigative abilities were amazing and he often assisted the institution’s Investigative Services Unit and local law enforcement in solving many criminal cases that occurred both inside and outside of the prison. Of his many prison "war stories" a favorite comes to mind. He was a Unit II yard officer on Third Watch when a major riot broke out in Dorm 6. He was the first officer to respond to the chaotic scene and an inmate said to him with great concern, "They only sent one officer?" to which Papa replied, "Well, you’ve only got one riot don’t you?!"

He served in the United States Air Force for four years, mostly in the remote sections of Alaska. When the kids were little and asked him if he ever served in the war, he’d say, "Yes, I fought the war in Alaska!" The kids would say, "I didn’t know there was a war in Alaska!" Papa would say "Well, I guess you didn’t hear much about it because we won!"

Prior to beginning his career in state corrections, Jim served his beloved  community as a Deputy Constable for the Judicial District, serving with his friend, Lee W. He then began his employment with the Sheriff’s Department as a dispatcher. His ever calm demeanor made him a natural for that type of work.

One night, he received a particularly stressful call from a rookie deputy who said, "They’re shooting at me! What do I do?" Papa calmly replied, "SHOOT BACK!" That tape was used for many years for dispatcher training. On a sadder note, he was once required to maintain his composure and dispatch medical help and the CHP to a horrifying accident on Highway 58 that he believed to involve his wife; Becky, based upon the description of the automobile and the fact that she had just left his work site after dropping off his dinner. It turned out he was right. Thankfully, Becky lived to tell about it.

He continued his employment with the Sheriff’s Department as the Court Liaison Officer for the County Alcohol Treatment Program, making sentence recommendations to the court. Also, he was well known in County circles due to his involvement in the alcohol/drug treatment community. He was a past member of the County Alcohol Advisory Board, and former Director of Carter Hall, a treatment home for women. He’d often read the obituaries in the local papers and say "Oh, one of my drunks died!" That’s just the kind of guy he was, recognizing the good in everyone.

He was an accomplished pilot and flight instructor for most of his life until he was "grounded" by diabetes. His biplane sat idle in the garage at his home for years and it was often a topic of conversation from passersby. He recently received his 40 year membership pin from Aircraft Owners and Pilot’s Association.

Papa loved to take us flying and he often said that he wished one of us would take an interest in it as well. We weren’t sure that would ever happen! Once just after taking young Parker for a flight, Parker said, "Dad, I like flying, but I like flying American Airlines!" Parker has now changed his mind and is planning to take flight lessons. His eldest grandson, Scott, made him very proud to choose a career as an Army Helicopter pilot, and Papa recently gave Scott the biplane that I mentioned previously.

He was a proud tribal member of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, having personally met every recent Principal Chief, beginning with Wilma Mankiller. He was a 32 degree Mason in the lodge here in town and enjoyed his participation until illness made it impossible.

Papa enjoyed history and was an avid genealogist tracing our family back into the early 1700s. He served as a volunteer at the local LDS Genealogy Library for many, many years despite the fact he was not a member of the church. During that time he assisted many people and was considered an expert on Native American research.

A great story-teller, he kept his family and friends enthralled with the entertaining and humorous details of his adventure filled life and loves. Sometimes he’d start out a story with, "One of my ex-wives" or "One of my children, but I forget which one…." Then someone would say, "Well, just how many wives or kids did you have?" He’d say, "Hell, I don’t know! I am a lover, not an accountant!"

He'd provide us with pearls of wisdom like, "Don’t ever sleep with someone sicker than you!

Or, "If there’s one thing worse than having one woman in your life, it’s having two!"

My favorite, "I’ll get married again when I need help back and forth to the bathroom!"

His greatest pleasure in life was his family, well…..most of the time. He once said to me, Lisa, it’s a good thing you’re my daughter, because if you were my wife, I’d have divorced your arse a long time ago!"

Abigail; his youngest daughter and donut buddy, was a bright star and his greatest joy in his life for the past 12 years. They teased one another all the time. When speaking about Abbie or Joel, he’d say, "I now know why they call some Indians civilized!"

He especially enjoyed meals in local restaurants with his children and grandchildren. It may have been that he was afraid of my cooking. I really don’t know! But, he favored Henry’s Café, where he loved to visit with Richard and Debbie, the owners and was served by his favorite waitresses; Desiree, Kristi, Marietta, Nicole and Kasey. He loved to slip them a 20 dollar bill for their birthdays, at Christmas or when one of them was off to Las Vegas. He did it just because he could, living life like he was rich, and he was richer for it.

My father was a very giving man. Sometimes to a fault. There were some people along the way that took advantage of his generosity, but it never deterred him. As a Native American, he believed he would be judged in the afterlife by what he gave to others. I believe that most of us here can say that we benefited from that trait of his at one time or another. He probably paid for your lunch or dinner, on more than one occasion. He was especially liked to pick up the check for everyone at the table when we’d go out to eat, saying, "That’s one thing in life that I am really good at!"

Papa always said he’d never invite a lady to lunch and allow her to pick up the check. Unless, of course, it was me! He told me since I was a Captain, I could afford it. Come to think of it, he also said, "You know what…..now that you’re a Captain, you can also shine your own damn work boots!" I know he was extremely proud of me, but he said he had to draw the line somewhere!

In closing, I’d like to read this passage from the book September, by Rosamunde Pilcher…….

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.

Oh, and if you were to ask me if there was just one thing that you could do to honor my father’s memory, it would be to pick up someone’s restaurant check……please, and do it in the same, loving manner.

Today was a lovely, but very breezy day at the cemetary.  Not too hot, with temperatures in the low 70's.  Fortunately, there was a marble bench opposite the niches, on which we sat Grandma and Aunt Mary.  Sure as an Oklahoma twister, a strong gust of this California mountain wind would have blown them both off their shaky feet. 

We had no official plan in mind for our service, so we just kind of "winged it!" Pun intended.  And, since I am the family eulogy writer and presenter, I was elected on the spot to handle this one too.  Ever the procrastinator, just as we waited for a few minutes for the other family members to arrive, I was able to find the perfect reading for us as mourners, from the book A Cherokee Feast of Days, by Joyce Sequichie Hifler.  Here it is.....

Dare to believe in miracles.  Look beyond the mud on the windshield, beyond the impossible, and know life is more than anguish and stress.  Reach out to someone, when your heart is too heavy to feel the sunlight or to taste the rain.  Rid yourself of dark thought and melancholy.  Open your mind to fresh air, to the unlimited music in your soul.  Thoreau wrote of waking in the night to hear a strain of music dying away-travelers singing.  He said his whole being was so expanded and infinitely and divinely related that he knew how narrow his own thinking had been.  The Cherokee always teach their young to listen.  We hear not the crash of cymbals or the noise that rides the airwaves-but the sweet song of the meadow, the even rhythmic sounds of nature.  It is here where the dikanowadidohi (angel) sings. 

Speak to yourself in spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord.

Grandma was prepared with a prayer she selected from a book entitled, Prayers for Good Times and Bad:

Lord,

Thank you for the life of the one we mourn today.  We know that it is only when we turn to you in our grief that we can experience any relief at all.  For in the midst of our pain, you give us a deep abiding peace...a peace that passes understanding....a peace that carries us from this moment into your future.  Thank you, Lord, for blessing us with your peace-the only thing that will sustain us thorough this time of loss and grief. 

In Jesus' name,

Amen

We then placed a bundle of sage* and the 

 

beaded feather inside the niche in honor of our Native ways.  Larry's rosary was lovingly placed inside by his mother, Aunt Mary. 

Tricia then placed a photo of her 7 year old daughter Samantha, who had written "I LOVE PAPA, Love, Samantha" on the back and the clear stone that encased her favorite little angel that Sam also wanted to be placed inside the niche. 

Also, we all wrote messages of love in the Cherokee book and placed it inside as well.   The urn was so tall that it had to lay against the back of the niche at an angle in order for the marble closure to be attached and sealed. 

(*Sage is used to purify the mind, body and spirit before praying. It is also used to purify sacred items such as pipes, and eagle feathers.  Some may use it to purify their homes, offices, cars and some carry a small amount of sage in a pocket or medicine pouch to insure personal and spiritual safety.  White sage is from the coastal mountains of California.  It is a broad leaf sage which is prized for its strong aromatic properties. This sage has the strongest scent of all sages.  Bundles are approximately 4 inches in length and tied tightly with yarn or string.)

Then we all had a great Mexican meal at Papa's favorite restaurant, sharing some laughs and good memories. 

Oh, and by the way, Papa "picked up the check!"  He would have wanted it that way. 

His Resting Place

Today, in a private ceremony for immediate family, we will place Papa's beautiful silver urn, this crucifix from my cousin Larry and this beaded feather, in his temporary resting place, which is a "niche" in our local cemetary.  After the new National Veteran's Cemetary is completed nearby, we will move his ashes there.

The urn in the lower right corner is a miniature version of the one containing most of Papa's cremains.  This small urn will remain with Ab and I on my fireplace.

We have an additional small urn with some of his ashes that we will take to Oklahoma and bury in the cemetary in his hometown, within the next year or so.  We didn't think of that until we made the final arrangements, but I really think he'd like the idea.  My Grandmother and Aunt Mary were going to take the little urn with them tomorrow when they return home, but I checked with the Transportation Safety Administration and they said that some metals can't be examined through the x-ray machine.  We won't chance it, so we'll mail the Oklahoma ashes later. 

I must now find an appropriate prayer for our service today, so I will close for now.