Happy Birthday Elvis!

"His kind of music is deplorable, a rancid smelling aphrodisiac...It fosters almost totally negative and destructive reactions in young people. 
                                                                                                ~Frank Sinatra,
                                                                                                       1950's

"There have been many accolades uttered about Elvis' talent and performances through the years, all of which I agree with wholeheartedly. I shall miss him dearly as a friend. He was a warm, considerate and generous man." 
                                                                                      ~Frank Sinatra, 1977 

 And for Lisa @ Coming to Terms.....                                                              

“You know, Bush is always comparing me to Elvis in sort of unflattering ways. I don’t think Bush would have liked Elvis very much, and that’s just another thing that’s wrong with him.”
                                                                                                       ~Bill Clinton
                                                                During the 1992 presidential campaign.

Happy New Year!

What woman couldn't be happy squeezed between these two gorgeous men, with slow Okie drawls?  On the left, my cousin Larry and on the right, his brother and my cousin, Monty.  Here's a previous entry I wrote about how we'd have gotten in lots of trouble if we'd been raised together as kids!  This photo was taken the day after Christmas in front of Larry's beautiful 13 foot holiday tree!

Krissy's Eulogy

Krissy was the baby. Our beautiful baby sister, born on June 5, 1966 and taken to her heavenly home on December 18, 2005. The only child born to her parents, but welcomed by a slew of siblings. Since she was 7 years younger than Rocky, the previous baby; we were all quick to dote on her, and just as quick to point out to Mom how terribly spoiled she was.

Despite the fact that we’d like to blame how spoiled Kris was on Mom, we have to take credit for our role in it as well. We created our own little monster! It was hard NOT to spoil Krissy, because she was just so darn cute. She had those huge dark brown eyes with long, curly eyelashes, olive skin that surrounded perfect, pearly white teeth in a rosebud mouth. She said cute baby things like; “Cha-Cha bo!” when she wanted her bottle filled with Chocolate Milk.

Yes, chocolate milk!

What kind of mother gives her toddler chocolate milk in her bottle? One who believes the sun rises and sets in her precious baby girl!  It didn’t take long for us to believe it as well, and we showered Krissy with gifts and lots of love and attention.

Long after we had all become adults, Krissy remained the baby, a role that she settled in to quite nicely. I‘m sure she‘d say that being the baby had its advantages, because even though the rest of us stopped exchanging gifts at Christmas, or for birthdays, Krissy still got presents from all of us, because, well….she was the baby!   Then, we’d all groan and complain to Mom about how spoiled rotten she was!

Kris may have been spoiled in many ways, but that is not to say that life was always kind to her. She had more than her fair share of life’s difficult times. The fact that we are standing here at her early grave is proof.

Could her life have been different if she’d made better choices?   Probably.

Was she capable of surviving on her own as we all expected her to do when she became an “adult?”   I am not so sure.

After having lived with Mom all her life, including after Cody was born, she was cruelly tossed out of the nest with Mom’s death. We encouraged her to spread her baby wings and fly, and for awhile, it seemed she’d gotten the idea. She tried hard to make it on her own, and we applauded when she got a job and bought her first car. Then life got to be overwhelming for Krissy and we stood back and watched as she fell flat on her face. Drugs. Homelessness.  Poverty.

In the past ten years, we expected that spoiled little girl who was ill prepared for this cold, hard world to suddenly grow up and make it on her own as we went on with our lives.

Suddenly, Kris was faced with life-threatening strokes. Three of them in a row.  She amazed us and her doctors as she fought to live and overcome the effects of the paralysis on her right side.  She didn’t complain and adapted to her circumstances the best she could. I was particularly awestruck by her strength.

Despite the doctor’s warnings that she was sure to have another stroke if she didn’t change her lifestyle, she continued to smoke.

Recently, she went to live with her father and I talked to her just after she settled in, asking the question that every smoker dreads….

“Krissy are you still smoking?”

“Noooooooooo!” She said.

“Oh Krissy, I am so proud of you for stopping! When did you have your last cigarette?” I asked.

“Yesssstttteeerrrrrrdaaaaaayyyy!”

Bless her heart! She was trying!

Who knew that Kris was as sick as she was, on top of attempting to recover from her strokes? Krissy didn’t complain and finally, last month her dad recognized that something just wasn’t right and took her to the hospital. That’s when they discovered that cancer had invaded her fragile body. It was everywhere.

They prepared her for the end of her life here on earth, telling her she had two to six months to “live.”

You know, I think she was probably ready to leave her struggles behind and have some much deserved peace.   How much can one person endure in one lifetime?

The author, C.S. Lewis once said, "Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind."

Kris was ready to leave, without regret.  Knowing there were better things awaiting.

In closing….When I heard the words of this popular country song by Brad Paisley and Dolly Parton, I immediately thought of our baby sister laughing with joy as she spread her wings to fly. Filled with perfect peace at last! There, on the far side of the sky, she joins her mother, grandparents, and sister Kim. I know that we’ll all be together again one day soon.

Listen to the words of this beautiful song.

When I get where I'm going
On the far side of the sky
The first thing that I'm gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly

I'm gonna land beside a lion
And run my fingers through his mane
Or I might find out what it's like
To ride a drop of rain

[Chorus]
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
I will shed the sins and struggles
I have carried all these years
And I'll leave my heart wide open
I will love and have no fear
Yeah when I get where I'm going
Don't cry for me down here

 

 

 

 

Krissy's Funeral

The weather was perfectly gloomy for my baby sister’s funeral this past Friday. The grey “marine layer” that rolls off the ocean just 10 miles away, was thick and hanging as low as our spirits. Since leaving Orange County 25 years ago, I’d forgotten how chilly and wet it can be first thing in the morning, until the California sun finally breaks through and burns off the miserable fog.

Krissy was the second sister I’d lost to cancer and strangely, the second sister to die at the young age of 39. What are the odds? What are the freaking odds?

Krissy didn’t make it a month after her diagnosis. Cancer had invaded her entire body. A grapefruit size tumor in one lung. Cancer in her lower intestine and ovaries. It was already in her bones. They said she had about 2 to 6 months to live and sent her home with Hospice. How does a young woman go into the hospital on several occasions during the past year and see a doctor regularly, for high blood pressure and complications of multiple strokes, and NOT be diagnosed with cancer? I think that she was “dumped” by each hospital that she entered, because she was a charity case. They fixed her obvious ailments and got her out of there quick. Her dad said he’s going to file a lawsuit for “wrongful death.” Now, I am no expert on these matters, but several “somebodies” dropped the ball.

The graveside funeral was lovely, even though there were only 9 of us in attendance. Her father and her son chose not to attend the service. I don’t understand and I wouldn’t have made the same decision, but in my life lessons I’ve learned the hard way that I must let each soul walk their own path.

I didn’t get to tell my sister goodbye in person before she died. Fortunately, she knew I was on my way. I was scheduled to go see her last Wednesday, but she passed away that Sunday before my trip. Instead, I wrote and presented a eulogy of sorts. I’ll make that my next journal entry.

For Krissy

"When I Get Where I'm Going"
(feat. Dolly Parton)

When I get where I'm going
On the far side of the sky
The first thing that I'm gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly

I'm gonna land beside a lion
And run my fingers through his mane
Or I might find out what it's like
To ride a drop of rain

[Chorus]
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
I will shed the sins and struggles
I have carried all these years
And I'll leave my heart wide open
I will love and have no fear
Yeah when I get where I'm going
Don't cry for me down here

I'm gonna walk with my grand daddy
And he'll match me step for step
And I'll tell him how I missed him
Every minute since he left
Then I'll hug his neck

[Repeat chorus]

So much pain and so much darkness
In this world we stumble through
All these questions I can't answer
So much work to do

But when I get where I'm going
And I see my maker's face
I'll stand forever in the light
Of his amazing grace
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
Hallelujah
I will love and have no fear
When I get where I'm going
Yeah when I get where I'm going

In Loving Memory of my baby sister...........

           Kristina Patricia Ankeny

       June 5, 1966-December 18, 2005

It's Cold and Flu Season!

“There ain’t nothing uglier than a sick, old White woman!”

                                `Immortal words of JM Newman-my Papa

                                                                              

The wait for my prescription to be filled would be “at east 45 minutes” according to the cheery clerk at my clearly over-burdened HMO pharmacy Monday evening.

Every stiff chair lining the perimeter walls was filled with someone who looked, sounded and probably felt just as bad as I did. If I may speak for all of us, “we” were in NO mood to wait that long in a room full of other sick souls; one of which was likely to infect us with some horrific malady, destined to be the final nail in our coffin, considering our weakened state.

As I had spent three wretched days in bed with fever, body aches, congestion and a cough from the depths of HELL, I knew I had something akin to Meningitis. But the fine young M.D. disagreed and told me I had a “virus.” Of course, there was “nothing” he could do except write me a prescription for cough medicine with Codeine and then recommend “Sudafed” with lots of fluids and rest. He politely patted me on my feverish head and off I went to the pharmacy.

My 45 minute wait, turned into an hour and my body was revolting. It was the first time in over 48 hours that it had been in a vertical position. I headed over to the vending machine and bought a cool bottle of water, hoping I was strong enough to twist open the cap.

After and hour and a half, they still hadn’t called my number, or put my name up on their visual display. There was at least 25 people waiting in line to pick up their prescriptions. Considering the numbers and how slow the line was moving, I figured I‘d just better get my fanny in line and hopefully, by the time I got to the counter, mine would be ready.

We took the wait in stride; laughing and joking amongst ourselves. And, of course, covering our coughs. One lady behind me picked up the newspaper and turned to the obituaries saying, “I am going to look and see if I died!”

I replied, “Well, if I didn’t die, I sure missed a good opportunity over the weekend!”

Another lady said, “I think I am going to die of old age before I can pick up my prescription!”

Finally, after another 45 minutes passed, I made to the counter, paid for my prescription and left. I had to step over some guy’s skinny, out-stretched legs to make it out the door. He may have just been asleep, but I swear, it could have been rigormortis!

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s cold and flu season.

 

 

Special Announcement

Fly Boy and Fall Girl are expecting!  I am going to be a first time Grandmother, in August 2006!

They didn't waste a bit of time since he arrived home! 

Congrats to all of us!

Just call me Grandma!

Oh the things you'll see.........

My work site is at about 4200 feet in the mountains, surrounded by farmland and small ranches; some passed down through many generations as evidenced by an old family cemetery tucked away in a hidden corner just off State property. 

The mountainsides are covered with forests of ancient, gnarled scrub oaks and tall pine trees that reach for our clear blue skies.  Our firing range is bordered by craggy rock hills, covered with sage and tall, wind-whipped grasses which must hide a variety of local wildlife that  probably pay no mind to the humans shooting at paper silhouettes, several days a month.  If it gets too noisy, there's plenty of other similar areas to settle in comfortably on the property.  We won't bother them, and they know it, because we've got some serious work to do. 

Our job is to keep the bad-guy clientel inside the safe confines of the fences, with armed towers and electrified perimeters that no one has dared tried to scale.  While the job is often interesting, it's equally  negative and not the type of job that gives you a great deal of personal gratification.  So we find our simple pleasures when we can get them; a well-executed drug bust, finding weapons before they end up stuck in someone's ribs, saving a life by being first on the scene in an emergency, sometimes it's just being a positive, professional role model.  

When it comes to animals, even the biggest tough guy convict can be reduced to a quivering mass of jello. While not policy, nor condoned by management, many feral cats have been lovingly tamed and cared for by our local felons.  With staff assistance they've managed to find adoptive homes for countless kittens and helped end the cycle of reproduction by assisting us in trapping the unruly ferals so we can get them spayed and neutered before returning them to their happy home.  The tame adult cats are simply placed in cat carriers and staff haul them off to be sterilized and returned to their happy "owners."  

I am happy to say that there are no more kittens awaiting adoption in my facility.  

(This entry wasn't meant to be about the kittens, but it turned out that way.  I really intended to write about the fact that I saw a Bobcat on grounds yesterday.  What an amazing sight!)  More later.    

Ahhhh Memories!

Tomorrow is my 52nd birthday. 

I think I still look pretty good for my age.  Most people can't believe it when I tell them how old I am, so I must be doing something right.  But, admittedly, I am going into this aging process kickin' and screamin', fighting every step....like Mike Tyson. 

However, I can't help but get a little melancholy about the old days, when I could turn some heads, since now when someone's turned their head around me, it's usually to sneeze.  So, tonight, while perusing my favorite journals, I came upon this entry by Wendy about how she really offended a Spanish-speaking woman when she tried to communicate with her by using her limited foreign language skills. 

It brought back memories of about 20 years ago, when I was a cheery, pretty, skinny, young professional woman .....................

Me:  "Helllloooo"

Caller:  "May I speak to Chi-Chi Naglas?"

Me:  "I am sorry, you must have the wrong number!"

Caller:  "This is not Chi-Chi Naglas?"

Me:  "No, there's nobody here by that name."

Caller:  "Okay.  Goodbye"

I figured that Chi-Chi Naglas must have had my telephone number before I got it because over a two year period, or so, I'd receive calls for Chi-Chi.  Every time I'd patiently tell the caller that once again he had the wrong number.

Then one day, I heard my Lieutenant speaking in Spanish to someone, and my ears perked up when I heard the word "Naglas."  After his conversation ended and we were alone, I said, "Robert, what does 'Naglas' mean in English?"

Embarrassed he replied, "Ass."

I then told him the story of how for years, I had someone telephoning me at home, asking for "Chi-Chi Naglas" and how I'd politely tell them that they had the wrong number!

Robert about died laughing.  He looked at me with a huge toothy grin and said........

"Lisa!  Don't you know what he was saying?  He was asking for 'Tits and Ass!' "

What this fat-assed, middle aged White woman wouldn't give for a call like that now!