Whence love first burst upon my breast,
In stunned surprise, I saw it there,
Too tender to take within my hands,
For fear to lose, or drive away
But love, it took itself to me,
Regarding not my spirit's trial,
And wrap't it's heart around my soul,
To bide til time stole it away
Yet deepest within my aching heart,
Bode love from echoes of eras past,
'Gainst all hope, to kindle anew,
That which I knew as lost to me.
Now I feel that I have again,
Driven away that which He gave,
Too tender to take within my hands,
For fear to lose, or drive away.
For fear to lose...again.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tears of the Whippoorwill
Tears of the Whippoorwill
Do you hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Have you ever seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Hank Williams Sr. told my stepdad “Pops”, his drinking buddy, to listen for this song that he would write for him about being a lonesome soldier. Soon after, this song appeared, with its’ evocative, plaintive wail, an ode to love, loss, & emptiness.
I have always loved this song, even before Pops came on the scene. As a child, I was constantly lonely, craving something, someone who would love me, who could even in a small way understand me. Aunt Helen was the nearest to this, but she married & I was without love for many years.
Fortunately, I came to know a wonderful, amazing family of Blond Bombshells that saved me & changed my life forever. Here I found & married my beloved darlin’ WolfWife, & she loved me for 36 years. BBD#3 has been in my life pretty consistently: BBD #4 has been out of it since 1991, the other two for even longer. I place that blame squarely on my sagging shoulders: I understand. I took their Mother away, & they feel it was not my place to do so. I broke hearts, I severed ties of blood, I took love & tore it apart & left it gasping in my wake. I remember rage, I remember sharpness of tooth & tongue, I remember my evil nature rending that family as I imposed my will upon those I loved. I did not understand that I was Wolf then, ravenous for life enough to fill my empty gullet the only way I knew how, as the only emotions I understood were rage & bloodlust. I hear the bitterness, I curse this empathy that condemns me to feel the pain that I have inflicted upon them. No, I am not without sin, & I cast the stones upon myself.
Now, my darlin’ is gone from me, gone Home to the Creator with whom she will live for eternity, in joy, without pain or worry or burden. I know that time is not part of her existence, & I know that my life is mine to change so that I could be with her again in Heaven. I am also pragmatic & self-aware enough to know that I have not earned that ending, & probably never will. Perhaps the Father will allow me to see her once again from afar, a glimpse, a whisper of her soul as I am cast to my damnation. I do not presume to think that I know His will, but His salvation is too high a reward for me to delude myself that I could ever claim it. One wispy glance of her thru the veil of my destruction will be enough.
And so, it leaves me here for whatever time is left me: here, in this world of grief & pain & terror. Surrounded by family & friends & caring co-workers, I am lifted up to the point that I am afraid that I am not even grieving properly for my darlin’. Fleeting moments of pseudo-functionality are bookended by crashing lows & spurts of abject despair & longing. The absence of human touch is devastatingly familiar, as it was my life until I met my WolfWife. I did not wish to endure it then: it is no more attractive to me now.
I stood at the bank of the river-filled lake outside my office yesterday, watching the dark & rippling waters lapping their loads of trash & detritus against the bank, & I felt as if I belonged within the oily flotsam. I thought, “One step, just one little step forward, & I can join her, in 5 minutes. One step & 5 minutes…not a long journey at all…” However, since I know that no joy awaits me in that eternal infernal sleep, what does it matter when I begin my damnation? So here I am, laying down lines like Ol’ Hank, except that my napkin is a keyboard, & I am sober. Robins are rare in these lands, but my darlin’ & I have heard a whippoorwill at WolfLodge: now I can hear the sound of his tears splashing thru the pines, too many to bear, & too few to drown within.
I’m so lonesome, I could…die
Do you hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Have you ever seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry
Hank Williams Sr. told my stepdad “Pops”, his drinking buddy, to listen for this song that he would write for him about being a lonesome soldier. Soon after, this song appeared, with its’ evocative, plaintive wail, an ode to love, loss, & emptiness.
I have always loved this song, even before Pops came on the scene. As a child, I was constantly lonely, craving something, someone who would love me, who could even in a small way understand me. Aunt Helen was the nearest to this, but she married & I was without love for many years.
Fortunately, I came to know a wonderful, amazing family of Blond Bombshells that saved me & changed my life forever. Here I found & married my beloved darlin’ WolfWife, & she loved me for 36 years. BBD#3 has been in my life pretty consistently: BBD #4 has been out of it since 1991, the other two for even longer. I place that blame squarely on my sagging shoulders: I understand. I took their Mother away, & they feel it was not my place to do so. I broke hearts, I severed ties of blood, I took love & tore it apart & left it gasping in my wake. I remember rage, I remember sharpness of tooth & tongue, I remember my evil nature rending that family as I imposed my will upon those I loved. I did not understand that I was Wolf then, ravenous for life enough to fill my empty gullet the only way I knew how, as the only emotions I understood were rage & bloodlust. I hear the bitterness, I curse this empathy that condemns me to feel the pain that I have inflicted upon them. No, I am not without sin, & I cast the stones upon myself.
Now, my darlin’ is gone from me, gone Home to the Creator with whom she will live for eternity, in joy, without pain or worry or burden. I know that time is not part of her existence, & I know that my life is mine to change so that I could be with her again in Heaven. I am also pragmatic & self-aware enough to know that I have not earned that ending, & probably never will. Perhaps the Father will allow me to see her once again from afar, a glimpse, a whisper of her soul as I am cast to my damnation. I do not presume to think that I know His will, but His salvation is too high a reward for me to delude myself that I could ever claim it. One wispy glance of her thru the veil of my destruction will be enough.
And so, it leaves me here for whatever time is left me: here, in this world of grief & pain & terror. Surrounded by family & friends & caring co-workers, I am lifted up to the point that I am afraid that I am not even grieving properly for my darlin’. Fleeting moments of pseudo-functionality are bookended by crashing lows & spurts of abject despair & longing. The absence of human touch is devastatingly familiar, as it was my life until I met my WolfWife. I did not wish to endure it then: it is no more attractive to me now.
I stood at the bank of the river-filled lake outside my office yesterday, watching the dark & rippling waters lapping their loads of trash & detritus against the bank, & I felt as if I belonged within the oily flotsam. I thought, “One step, just one little step forward, & I can join her, in 5 minutes. One step & 5 minutes…not a long journey at all…” However, since I know that no joy awaits me in that eternal infernal sleep, what does it matter when I begin my damnation? So here I am, laying down lines like Ol’ Hank, except that my napkin is a keyboard, & I am sober. Robins are rare in these lands, but my darlin’ & I have heard a whippoorwill at WolfLodge: now I can hear the sound of his tears splashing thru the pines, too many to bear, & too few to drown within.
I’m so lonesome, I could…die
Friday, May 23, 2008
The Fingerprints of God Touching Us
This post is in response to a request for our findings of the Fingerprints of God:
http://pamperingbeki.blogspot.com/2008/05/fingerprint-friday_22.html
Where do I see them? In myriad little moments of joy, which have surrounded me thru this journey of grief & loss. I hold on to every one as tightly as I can, each a lifeline to the rock of survival & sanity & transformation. Here is a partial list:
When my darlin' got to her final room at the hospital, she enjoyed the view of the Austin skyline, as well as she could see it by then. A concrete balcony outside her window was home to a pigeon family: strutting father whose job was to puff out his chest & pace the railing, chasing off squatters who tries to move in. He also occasionally brought food. Mother had a chick, just starting to try to fly a bit, & 1 egg. A day later, anther one was being busily rolled around & fussed over. A display of the circle of life, there courtesy of the Creator.
In a hospital waiting room in Austin, a lady called out to me "Aren't you from Bastrop?" I am. We then began to chat, & realized we knew many of the same wonderful, kindly souls in that & surrounding communities. She was in fact a pal of my darlin' wife from years ago, & we were able to share stories of love & charity, & she stopped in to see my pretty girl, & both their spirits were lifted.
As I was in the elevator heading for the lower level pharmacy minutes before she was to head to Hospice, everyone but me piled out at the 1st floor. In walked a young man who moved to the far corner. I was startled to see him: a buddy of our son's whom I had not seen for years, who is currently wed to our son's 1st wife. He works for a courier service & was making a quick delivery: I informed him of what was going on, & I do not know if he stopped by to see her: he was on the elevator for less than 15 seconds, amidst a metro area of 1,000,000+ people. There were the Fingerprints of God.
At the funeral home 2 days after she passed, the director informed me that she would be cremated in Kerrville. I almost came out of my chair: that tiny town was where we were married, so many years ago! When we picked her up, I related that story to another director, & in walked the man from Kerrville who had cared for her.
My darlin' leaned on everyone around to make sure I went to powwow in Fredericksburg. She passed a week before, & my son & I attended, planning to honor her in the prayer dance. Unfortunately it was too hot to allow the dancers to perform. Last year my darlin' & I attended & I parked her under a shady oak & headed out to get the car. A very concerned young fancy dancer came up to her: "Mother, are you all right? Can I get you a chair, or some water, or tea?" "No, son, thank you, but my husband will be here with the car in a moment." "Are you sure>" asked the dancer, "I can get you a chair from this vendor, & anything you want to drink..." "Thank you, I am fine: you have been taught well." she told him. His response: "Well, it is our way." "And a fine way it is, too" she said. He blinked in surprise, leaned in & whispered, "It is not often that we hear white people use that term!" "I too have been taught well!" she said. He laughed, patted her shoulder, & ran off as I pulled up. This year I pointed that spot out to our son as we entered, & as we left I stepped into the shade at that spot. I was immediately enveloped in her presence, with a powerful energy coursing thru my body. I lifted my eyes to Heaven & gave thanks for this gift. My son reached out knowingly, & patted me on the shoulder. Then I knew: the fingerprints of God had closed another circle.
Dear friends had given me an old power wheelchair for my darlin' which I found was too expensive to repair. I loaded it on my sister-girl's trailer along with assorted furniture that I threw out to make room for her care equipment. She was at a store in Rockne, (population what, 17?) when a group of South-of-the-Borderans approached the trailer,spotting the bottom frame of the chair. One told her (thru the language barrier) that he had the exact chair chassis which his loved one could not use as the seat frame was broken. He was thrilled to learn that she had the intact seat assembly right there: Sister-girl called me so excited, & I called my friends: they said they had just prayed that the chair would go to someone to whom it would be a blessing: Fingerprints? You bet!
I was outside our beloved Wolf Lodge speaking on the phone, when a little black bug started bumping me on the chest. I thought I recognized it, & followed it to the door, where it landed on a glass pane, rested for a moment, then lifted off, flew back to me as it lit up, then sailed straight up into the air until it faded from sight. Four years there, first lightning bug. These creatures were very special to my darlin', due to a camping trip we made long ago...
There are so many more of these blessings: I know that His Fingerprints are all over our lives, & certainly on my heart. I will continue to add to this post as I am able to remember them.
http://pamperingbeki.blogspot.com/2008/05/fingerprint-friday_22.html
Where do I see them? In myriad little moments of joy, which have surrounded me thru this journey of grief & loss. I hold on to every one as tightly as I can, each a lifeline to the rock of survival & sanity & transformation. Here is a partial list:
When my darlin' got to her final room at the hospital, she enjoyed the view of the Austin skyline, as well as she could see it by then. A concrete balcony outside her window was home to a pigeon family: strutting father whose job was to puff out his chest & pace the railing, chasing off squatters who tries to move in. He also occasionally brought food. Mother had a chick, just starting to try to fly a bit, & 1 egg. A day later, anther one was being busily rolled around & fussed over. A display of the circle of life, there courtesy of the Creator.
In a hospital waiting room in Austin, a lady called out to me "Aren't you from Bastrop?" I am. We then began to chat, & realized we knew many of the same wonderful, kindly souls in that & surrounding communities. She was in fact a pal of my darlin' wife from years ago, & we were able to share stories of love & charity, & she stopped in to see my pretty girl, & both their spirits were lifted.
As I was in the elevator heading for the lower level pharmacy minutes before she was to head to Hospice, everyone but me piled out at the 1st floor. In walked a young man who moved to the far corner. I was startled to see him: a buddy of our son's whom I had not seen for years, who is currently wed to our son's 1st wife. He works for a courier service & was making a quick delivery: I informed him of what was going on, & I do not know if he stopped by to see her: he was on the elevator for less than 15 seconds, amidst a metro area of 1,000,000+ people. There were the Fingerprints of God.
At the funeral home 2 days after she passed, the director informed me that she would be cremated in Kerrville. I almost came out of my chair: that tiny town was where we were married, so many years ago! When we picked her up, I related that story to another director, & in walked the man from Kerrville who had cared for her.
My darlin' leaned on everyone around to make sure I went to powwow in Fredericksburg. She passed a week before, & my son & I attended, planning to honor her in the prayer dance. Unfortunately it was too hot to allow the dancers to perform. Last year my darlin' & I attended & I parked her under a shady oak & headed out to get the car. A very concerned young fancy dancer came up to her: "Mother, are you all right? Can I get you a chair, or some water, or tea?" "No, son, thank you, but my husband will be here with the car in a moment." "Are you sure>" asked the dancer, "I can get you a chair from this vendor, & anything you want to drink..." "Thank you, I am fine: you have been taught well." she told him. His response: "Well, it is our way." "And a fine way it is, too" she said. He blinked in surprise, leaned in & whispered, "It is not often that we hear white people use that term!" "I too have been taught well!" she said. He laughed, patted her shoulder, & ran off as I pulled up. This year I pointed that spot out to our son as we entered, & as we left I stepped into the shade at that spot. I was immediately enveloped in her presence, with a powerful energy coursing thru my body. I lifted my eyes to Heaven & gave thanks for this gift. My son reached out knowingly, & patted me on the shoulder. Then I knew: the fingerprints of God had closed another circle.
Dear friends had given me an old power wheelchair for my darlin' which I found was too expensive to repair. I loaded it on my sister-girl's trailer along with assorted furniture that I threw out to make room for her care equipment. She was at a store in Rockne, (population what, 17?) when a group of South-of-the-Borderans approached the trailer,spotting the bottom frame of the chair. One told her (thru the language barrier) that he had the exact chair chassis which his loved one could not use as the seat frame was broken. He was thrilled to learn that she had the intact seat assembly right there: Sister-girl called me so excited, & I called my friends: they said they had just prayed that the chair would go to someone to whom it would be a blessing: Fingerprints? You bet!
I was outside our beloved Wolf Lodge speaking on the phone, when a little black bug started bumping me on the chest. I thought I recognized it, & followed it to the door, where it landed on a glass pane, rested for a moment, then lifted off, flew back to me as it lit up, then sailed straight up into the air until it faded from sight. Four years there, first lightning bug. These creatures were very special to my darlin', due to a camping trip we made long ago...
There are so many more of these blessings: I know that His Fingerprints are all over our lives, & certainly on my heart. I will continue to add to this post as I am able to remember them.
Heavy Nights, Unwelcome Days
Forcedly surrendering control: I guess that is about as well as I can say it. As I stated before, I am not in control of my emotions & cannot predict my reactions to the forks & turns & dips & climbs on this path that the Creator has placed 'neath my feet.
After a tough day yesterday, I got home & opened an envelope from Hospice, which contained information about grief resources, & a booklet entitled "Someone You Love Has Died". I knew that this little tome could help me, but it was too much to bear at that time. I found myself in bed, adrift in the dark, with my beloved darlin's ashes resting on my shoulder, her pillow clutched to my chest, under the blanket under which she died. I let it all go again, giving myself over to the thundering flood of raw, visceral emotion & pain & fear, letting out the tears which I certainly have not been hoarding. After an eternity, I calmed again, & was filled by the warmth of the presence of the Holy Spirit, & could feel my darlin' in my arms. I rocked her slowly, gently, as so many times before. I told her I loved her, which never seemed to cover the strength of the emotional bond we shared.
My tears replenished, & flowed, & again throughout the night as my grief took control & I was swept along. I had a powerful email from BBD#4 regarding the scattering of my darlin's ashes, & I wrote her as heartfelt an answer as possible. It reminded me of a poem my darlin' wrote for me many years ago, which I had never shared with anyone: I sent her a verse last night, & will post it here after I have shared with her blood kin. Perhaps it will be part of her memorial service: I think she would like that.
Today has been even harder: I had to leave the office & sit by the river, praying my flute, casting my prayers & my tears upon the waters. Next week, I begin bereavement counseling thru Hospice - I pray that I can bear it, & come out the other side as someone those closest to me can yet love. Please pray for me, that I do not drown in this sea of loneliness & despair.
After a tough day yesterday, I got home & opened an envelope from Hospice, which contained information about grief resources, & a booklet entitled "Someone You Love Has Died". I knew that this little tome could help me, but it was too much to bear at that time. I found myself in bed, adrift in the dark, with my beloved darlin's ashes resting on my shoulder, her pillow clutched to my chest, under the blanket under which she died. I let it all go again, giving myself over to the thundering flood of raw, visceral emotion & pain & fear, letting out the tears which I certainly have not been hoarding. After an eternity, I calmed again, & was filled by the warmth of the presence of the Holy Spirit, & could feel my darlin' in my arms. I rocked her slowly, gently, as so many times before. I told her I loved her, which never seemed to cover the strength of the emotional bond we shared.
My tears replenished, & flowed, & again throughout the night as my grief took control & I was swept along. I had a powerful email from BBD#4 regarding the scattering of my darlin's ashes, & I wrote her as heartfelt an answer as possible. It reminded me of a poem my darlin' wrote for me many years ago, which I had never shared with anyone: I sent her a verse last night, & will post it here after I have shared with her blood kin. Perhaps it will be part of her memorial service: I think she would like that.
Today has been even harder: I had to leave the office & sit by the river, praying my flute, casting my prayers & my tears upon the waters. Next week, I begin bereavement counseling thru Hospice - I pray that I can bear it, & come out the other side as someone those closest to me can yet love. Please pray for me, that I do not drown in this sea of loneliness & despair.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Those Gorgeous Baby Blues Come Home
Dear ones,
The night my beloved darlin' went Home to the Creator, I delayed going home as long as I could. Intellectually & rhetorically, I knew that it was going to be "hard" to walk into Wolf Lodge alone for the first time. In a life stuffed with hyperbole, that statement may rank as the most ridiculous understatement of all my 53 years. I was woefully unprepared, completely naive, totally not in that particular loop.
As I stepped through the door, I began to cry. 2 more trips to the car helped soften the inevitable avalanche of raw, soul-rending emotion which I knew was overtaking me. After I had brought everything in, I lay on our bed & let it overtake me. Every fiber of my being screamed, wailed in an overarching despair which took me, storming into terror, threatening my very sanity (or what is left of it). "Come back to me, come back my beloved!" I cried, "I cannot do this by myself!" Everywhere I looked, I saw my beloved. Everything I touched, I felt her hand upon. When I finally could, I phoned my son & leaned on him. Then I leaned the weight of my loss on Blond Bombshell Daughter (BBD) #3, & we cried together for a long while.
My friends, take it from what veracity I have: never, ever do this alone. Never.
My beloved darlin' has come home to Wolf Lodge. She was cremated in Kerrville, where we were married so long ago. Another circle closed, another moment of joy, another gift from the Creator.
I can tell you all that I have discovered a remarkable lack of emotional control in me through these past weeks. Things that I feel I cannot bear come easily (or relatively so); things I feel prepared for devastate me. This is, I now realize, the Creator letting me know in no uncertain terms that He is in control, not me. As our friend Bud said last night, "Those times when you got through without a problem, the Father was carrying you." Footprints in the sand, walking the path of my soul...
I could not wait to bring her home, to have at least this most basic of physical manifestations with me in that now massive-seeming home. Yet, when the funeral director let me know that she was ready, I fell apart like a snowman in a hurricane. I leaned hard on BBD #3, & on dear friends to varying degrees. Mother Ruth & sister Becca went with me the next day & brought her home. I was fine all day, until I called BBD #4 to update her. As soon as that phone began to ring, I fell apart again, leaving a barely intelligible spluttering message. She texted me a response, to which I fumble-fingered an answer. After enduring my pitiful attempts at this mode of communication, she laughingly called to to put me out of my texting misery.
She was kinder & more empathetic than I had any right to expect, given the long estrangement. I told her we were stepping out onto ice we knew to be cracked, & I would take things very gently, very slowly, very tenderly so as to not hurt her again. I realized that I was being cruel to her in expressing my loneliness, as hers has been much longer a burden. She showed me grace, compassion, & great kindness. A strong woman, with a good & loving heart; I hope I can get to know it again.
I carry my darlin's ashes around the house with me, & lay the box on her pillow at night. I know she is not there, but it the last physical manifestation that I will ever have of the body I loved for most of my life, the body that bore such beautiful daughters, such a handsome son, that held so many babies, that worked & created & loved so deeply.
I have begun the process of attending bereavement counseling thru Hospice, as I try to find out who I am, now that the one who was my world is now not in this one with me. Becoming a One when I have always been a Two will be the tallest mountain I will ever climb: I pray that my journey earns me the right to meet my shining girl at the summit, to rejoin her for eternity in the Arms of our Creator.
The night my beloved darlin' went Home to the Creator, I delayed going home as long as I could. Intellectually & rhetorically, I knew that it was going to be "hard" to walk into Wolf Lodge alone for the first time. In a life stuffed with hyperbole, that statement may rank as the most ridiculous understatement of all my 53 years. I was woefully unprepared, completely naive, totally not in that particular loop.
As I stepped through the door, I began to cry. 2 more trips to the car helped soften the inevitable avalanche of raw, soul-rending emotion which I knew was overtaking me. After I had brought everything in, I lay on our bed & let it overtake me. Every fiber of my being screamed, wailed in an overarching despair which took me, storming into terror, threatening my very sanity (or what is left of it). "Come back to me, come back my beloved!" I cried, "I cannot do this by myself!" Everywhere I looked, I saw my beloved. Everything I touched, I felt her hand upon. When I finally could, I phoned my son & leaned on him. Then I leaned the weight of my loss on Blond Bombshell Daughter (BBD) #3, & we cried together for a long while.
My friends, take it from what veracity I have: never, ever do this alone. Never.
My beloved darlin' has come home to Wolf Lodge. She was cremated in Kerrville, where we were married so long ago. Another circle closed, another moment of joy, another gift from the Creator.
I can tell you all that I have discovered a remarkable lack of emotional control in me through these past weeks. Things that I feel I cannot bear come easily (or relatively so); things I feel prepared for devastate me. This is, I now realize, the Creator letting me know in no uncertain terms that He is in control, not me. As our friend Bud said last night, "Those times when you got through without a problem, the Father was carrying you." Footprints in the sand, walking the path of my soul...
I could not wait to bring her home, to have at least this most basic of physical manifestations with me in that now massive-seeming home. Yet, when the funeral director let me know that she was ready, I fell apart like a snowman in a hurricane. I leaned hard on BBD #3, & on dear friends to varying degrees. Mother Ruth & sister Becca went with me the next day & brought her home. I was fine all day, until I called BBD #4 to update her. As soon as that phone began to ring, I fell apart again, leaving a barely intelligible spluttering message. She texted me a response, to which I fumble-fingered an answer. After enduring my pitiful attempts at this mode of communication, she laughingly called to to put me out of my texting misery.
She was kinder & more empathetic than I had any right to expect, given the long estrangement. I told her we were stepping out onto ice we knew to be cracked, & I would take things very gently, very slowly, very tenderly so as to not hurt her again. I realized that I was being cruel to her in expressing my loneliness, as hers has been much longer a burden. She showed me grace, compassion, & great kindness. A strong woman, with a good & loving heart; I hope I can get to know it again.
I carry my darlin's ashes around the house with me, & lay the box on her pillow at night. I know she is not there, but it the last physical manifestation that I will ever have of the body I loved for most of my life, the body that bore such beautiful daughters, such a handsome son, that held so many babies, that worked & created & loved so deeply.
I have begun the process of attending bereavement counseling thru Hospice, as I try to find out who I am, now that the one who was my world is now not in this one with me. Becoming a One when I have always been a Two will be the tallest mountain I will ever climb: I pray that my journey earns me the right to meet my shining girl at the summit, to rejoin her for eternity in the Arms of our Creator.
Monday, May 19, 2008
The Longest Journey...
Dear Ones,
As many of you know, my darlin’ wife has been in failing health over the past year. She had several falls, one with a nasty concussion, & her ability to walk has deteriorated. Her Post-Polio Syndrome was proceeding rapidly, & it was difficult for her to pass on the mundane tasks of life & care to me as they became increasingly more difficult.
Through it all, her faith was unstoppable, & she refused to allow me to get her medical treatment. She had had enough of doctors, she said, after the polio, heart issues, rheumatic & scarlet fevers, 6 pregnancies, gall bladder: you get the picture. So, it was left to me & Doctor God to care for her, & I tried everything that I could think of to maximize her comfort & functionality.
On the evening of Friday April 25th, several family members visited for the evening. After they left, we spent 3 agonizing hours trying to get my beloved out of her chair, finally succeeding at 1:30am, exhilarated that we had discovered how to do it with a minimum of pain & discomfort for her. A few hours later, we tried again & she could not get up. Again we tried a couple of hours later, & she was unable to stand.
At this point, I sat down & told her that I could not do what she needed anymore, & she agreed to allow me to call 911. The paramedics were wonderful & took her to the local hospital, where she underwent several hours of intensely painful tests. They determined that she had advanced breast cancer & a mass on her liver, which was causing many of her problems. They transported her to an Austin hospital, expecting to take her to ICU. She spent most of the night in ER, & got to Intermediate Care early Saturday morning. She endured more tortuous pain as they staff evaluated her, & we got the results mid week that she indeed had an unfixable breast cancer & a mass on her liver. She did not want to undergo surgery, so we signed the Advanced Directive, her Do Not Resuscitate orders were in place, & we began the process to get her into Hospice care.
Throughout the week, as innumerable doctors came & went, poked, prodded, injected, tested, & manhandled her precious body, her spirits stayed strong. She enjoyed watching the pigeon family on the balcony, with one just learning to fly, 2 eggs, a doting mother & strutting father. True to form she was more worried for me than for herself. She told me, “I may have robbed you of a few years with a wife, but I hope you understand…” I did.
We witnessed love & cruelty, compassion & indifference, kindness & anger, as the parade of staff & volunteers seemed unending. The chaplains & social workers were of great comfort, especially when a particularly cold-hearted oncologist threatened our Hospice plan if we would not consent to yet another intensely painful test. By this time, my darlin’ was so distraught that she was unable to speak, & motioned for me to step in. I confronted this furious, hate-filled testmonger, who had deliberately misled us as to the nature of this test: (“It’s just a little needle, just a little needle…”) when in reality it entailed deflating her air bed & putting her on a flat table, which had been so painful to try earlier in the week that the nurse halted the test prep fearing a cardiac arrest due to her “howling in pain”. As she had a DNR on file, he would have had to let her die, all for a TEST! Upon my refusal to allow the test, Dr. TestMonger repeatedly threatened our Hospice plan. However, we are Wolf, & after a long, despairing night which caused my darlin’ to have severe chest pains, we rallied the troops of nurses, Drs, patient reps, social workers, chaplains, & Hospice nurses & accelerated the move to in-patient Hospice that Friday afternoon.
Despite a particularly rough & unconcerned (read 20 yrs Navy) ambulance crew chief, my darlin’ settled in, happy to be in such a comforting, loving, & beautiful setting. The intake nurse evaluated her, & filled me in on what I could expect, She said that there could be a significant & rapid decline in her condition within a couple of days, due to how she was presenting. I waved that off, telling her that my darlin’ had a really bad 24 hours before getting there, & that she would perk up once she rested & recovered from the trauma. I told her that I needed to visit with the social worker on Monday to begin evaluating skilled nursing facilities & making final arrangements, as I knew we could not stay there for long, just until her pain was under control. I was charging ahead at a full gallop when the nurse stopped me, put her hand on my knee, & said, “Mr. Hritz, at this point, we will take it 1 day at a time.”
They gave me a small booklet entitled “Gone From My Sight”, which compared death to a sailing ship nearing the horizon. As it passes out of view, we on the shore say “There she goes”: at the same time, folks on the other shore see the ship come into view & say, “Here she comes!” The booklet detailed the stages of death, & I began to check them off. She was on a morphine pump, & hallucinated all night; at one point she called to me, asking if all those people were really in the room: I told her that she & I were the only ones really there, but I knew she was in the company of loved ones that had gone before. By morning she had settled into a deep & snory sleep.
Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 visited along with her daughter & grandson. I took the opportunity to run home, tend our animals, grab some laundry & an Indian blanket she wanted. While I was gone, she had a surge of energy, telling BBD#3 that she did not know what was real & what was not, & that she thought she saw her granddaughter, who she indeed did see at her bedside. By the time I returned, she was asleep again. Family left, & I spent hours talking to my darlin’, playing my river cane Kiowa & our son’s cedar wolf Kiowa flute, playing Virgie Ravenhawk’s music, praying, thanking her for everything I could recall, praying & drumming in the Serenity Room, brushing her hair, warming her always-cold hands, & timing her breaths.
I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #4 late that night, driven by the Creator to contact her after 17 years of estrangement. She was very kind to me, & got to hear her mother’s voice. My darlin’s eyes were open almost constantly, but there was no recollection in them. I begged her to see me one last time – she could not. She did rally, taking 3 quick, deep breaths, & said “I love you, I love you, I love you…” I fell asleep at 12:30am, & again as staff tended to her comfort & showed me what to do for her. I rose at 6, grabbed a coffee, & settled in at her side again, timing breaths & watching her pulse. I asked the nurse how much of what she was doing was the morphine, which had been steadily increasing in dosage, & how much was her condition. She said very little was the morphine, that she was actively dying. I returned to her side, talking to her & watching her pulse & her breathing. I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 later that morning, & as I was holding her mother’s hand, I saw the pulse go away. I told BBD#3 what was going on, hung up & called the nurse. I noticed that her breathing had also stopped, & in the few moments before the nurse & doctor arrived, her face color changed, & I knew that my darlin’, my beloved pretty girl, my lady, my queen without a king, was gone. The nurse knew it as soon as she opened the door, & looked at me knowingly. I nodded, she checked for a pulse as the doctor distracted me, & they called her time of death at 10:49am, May 4, 2008.
The nurse hugged me, I cried with her for a while, & pointed to my beloved, saying, “That woman lying there is an amazing woman: she sang for a President at the White House, at Carnegie Hall, the ryman Auditorium, as backup for Hank Williams Sr., & she loved me for 36 years, which is the most amazing thing she did!” I closed her beautiful baby blue eyes & kissed her. They left me alone & I began to call our loved ones. They said we could keep her for up to 12 hours, the chaplain called & prayed with me, the social worker helped me contact funeral homes, & friends & family gathered to honor her & lift me up.
Praise the Creator that she is no longer in pain, or discomfort: she is a bright shining light in the presence of God: she does not need to walk now, for she can fly. She will live forever in glory, & I pray that I can live my life well enough to join her for eternity.
There were many moments of joy through this journey: I will detail them in a later post. Please forgive that I have not posted sooner.
Blessings & Light,
Michael
As many of you know, my darlin’ wife has been in failing health over the past year. She had several falls, one with a nasty concussion, & her ability to walk has deteriorated. Her Post-Polio Syndrome was proceeding rapidly, & it was difficult for her to pass on the mundane tasks of life & care to me as they became increasingly more difficult.
Through it all, her faith was unstoppable, & she refused to allow me to get her medical treatment. She had had enough of doctors, she said, after the polio, heart issues, rheumatic & scarlet fevers, 6 pregnancies, gall bladder: you get the picture. So, it was left to me & Doctor God to care for her, & I tried everything that I could think of to maximize her comfort & functionality.
On the evening of Friday April 25th, several family members visited for the evening. After they left, we spent 3 agonizing hours trying to get my beloved out of her chair, finally succeeding at 1:30am, exhilarated that we had discovered how to do it with a minimum of pain & discomfort for her. A few hours later, we tried again & she could not get up. Again we tried a couple of hours later, & she was unable to stand.
At this point, I sat down & told her that I could not do what she needed anymore, & she agreed to allow me to call 911. The paramedics were wonderful & took her to the local hospital, where she underwent several hours of intensely painful tests. They determined that she had advanced breast cancer & a mass on her liver, which was causing many of her problems. They transported her to an Austin hospital, expecting to take her to ICU. She spent most of the night in ER, & got to Intermediate Care early Saturday morning. She endured more tortuous pain as they staff evaluated her, & we got the results mid week that she indeed had an unfixable breast cancer & a mass on her liver. She did not want to undergo surgery, so we signed the Advanced Directive, her Do Not Resuscitate orders were in place, & we began the process to get her into Hospice care.
Throughout the week, as innumerable doctors came & went, poked, prodded, injected, tested, & manhandled her precious body, her spirits stayed strong. She enjoyed watching the pigeon family on the balcony, with one just learning to fly, 2 eggs, a doting mother & strutting father. True to form she was more worried for me than for herself. She told me, “I may have robbed you of a few years with a wife, but I hope you understand…” I did.
We witnessed love & cruelty, compassion & indifference, kindness & anger, as the parade of staff & volunteers seemed unending. The chaplains & social workers were of great comfort, especially when a particularly cold-hearted oncologist threatened our Hospice plan if we would not consent to yet another intensely painful test. By this time, my darlin’ was so distraught that she was unable to speak, & motioned for me to step in. I confronted this furious, hate-filled testmonger, who had deliberately misled us as to the nature of this test: (“It’s just a little needle, just a little needle…”) when in reality it entailed deflating her air bed & putting her on a flat table, which had been so painful to try earlier in the week that the nurse halted the test prep fearing a cardiac arrest due to her “howling in pain”. As she had a DNR on file, he would have had to let her die, all for a TEST! Upon my refusal to allow the test, Dr. TestMonger repeatedly threatened our Hospice plan. However, we are Wolf, & after a long, despairing night which caused my darlin’ to have severe chest pains, we rallied the troops of nurses, Drs, patient reps, social workers, chaplains, & Hospice nurses & accelerated the move to in-patient Hospice that Friday afternoon.
Despite a particularly rough & unconcerned (read 20 yrs Navy) ambulance crew chief, my darlin’ settled in, happy to be in such a comforting, loving, & beautiful setting. The intake nurse evaluated her, & filled me in on what I could expect, She said that there could be a significant & rapid decline in her condition within a couple of days, due to how she was presenting. I waved that off, telling her that my darlin’ had a really bad 24 hours before getting there, & that she would perk up once she rested & recovered from the trauma. I told her that I needed to visit with the social worker on Monday to begin evaluating skilled nursing facilities & making final arrangements, as I knew we could not stay there for long, just until her pain was under control. I was charging ahead at a full gallop when the nurse stopped me, put her hand on my knee, & said, “Mr. Hritz, at this point, we will take it 1 day at a time.”
They gave me a small booklet entitled “Gone From My Sight”, which compared death to a sailing ship nearing the horizon. As it passes out of view, we on the shore say “There she goes”: at the same time, folks on the other shore see the ship come into view & say, “Here she comes!” The booklet detailed the stages of death, & I began to check them off. She was on a morphine pump, & hallucinated all night; at one point she called to me, asking if all those people were really in the room: I told her that she & I were the only ones really there, but I knew she was in the company of loved ones that had gone before. By morning she had settled into a deep & snory sleep.
Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 visited along with her daughter & grandson. I took the opportunity to run home, tend our animals, grab some laundry & an Indian blanket she wanted. While I was gone, she had a surge of energy, telling BBD#3 that she did not know what was real & what was not, & that she thought she saw her granddaughter, who she indeed did see at her bedside. By the time I returned, she was asleep again. Family left, & I spent hours talking to my darlin’, playing my river cane Kiowa & our son’s cedar wolf Kiowa flute, playing Virgie Ravenhawk’s music, praying, thanking her for everything I could recall, praying & drumming in the Serenity Room, brushing her hair, warming her always-cold hands, & timing her breaths.
I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #4 late that night, driven by the Creator to contact her after 17 years of estrangement. She was very kind to me, & got to hear her mother’s voice. My darlin’s eyes were open almost constantly, but there was no recollection in them. I begged her to see me one last time – she could not. She did rally, taking 3 quick, deep breaths, & said “I love you, I love you, I love you…” I fell asleep at 12:30am, & again as staff tended to her comfort & showed me what to do for her. I rose at 6, grabbed a coffee, & settled in at her side again, timing breaths & watching her pulse. I asked the nurse how much of what she was doing was the morphine, which had been steadily increasing in dosage, & how much was her condition. She said very little was the morphine, that she was actively dying. I returned to her side, talking to her & watching her pulse & her breathing. I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 later that morning, & as I was holding her mother’s hand, I saw the pulse go away. I told BBD#3 what was going on, hung up & called the nurse. I noticed that her breathing had also stopped, & in the few moments before the nurse & doctor arrived, her face color changed, & I knew that my darlin’, my beloved pretty girl, my lady, my queen without a king, was gone. The nurse knew it as soon as she opened the door, & looked at me knowingly. I nodded, she checked for a pulse as the doctor distracted me, & they called her time of death at 10:49am, May 4, 2008.
The nurse hugged me, I cried with her for a while, & pointed to my beloved, saying, “That woman lying there is an amazing woman: she sang for a President at the White House, at Carnegie Hall, the ryman Auditorium, as backup for Hank Williams Sr., & she loved me for 36 years, which is the most amazing thing she did!” I closed her beautiful baby blue eyes & kissed her. They left me alone & I began to call our loved ones. They said we could keep her for up to 12 hours, the chaplain called & prayed with me, the social worker helped me contact funeral homes, & friends & family gathered to honor her & lift me up.
Praise the Creator that she is no longer in pain, or discomfort: she is a bright shining light in the presence of God: she does not need to walk now, for she can fly. She will live forever in glory, & I pray that I can live my life well enough to join her for eternity.
There were many moments of joy through this journey: I will detail them in a later post. Please forgive that I have not posted sooner.
Blessings & Light,
Michael
Monday, April 07, 2008
I Wish I Was a Robot!
I wish I was a Robot!
I really, really do!
I wish I was a Robot,
Held together by bolts & screws!
I’d be a big strong Robot!
I’d never trip or squirm!
I’d be a big strong Robot,
Never bothered by a germ!
I wish I was a Robot!
I never would be tired!
I wish I was a Robot,
It’s what I’ve long desired!
I’d be a handsome Robot!
No hair to watch fall out!
I’d be a handsome Robot,
Without a sneezy snout!
I wish I was a Robot!
A marvel of design!
I wish I was a Robot,
On electricity I’d dine!
I’d be a real hot Robot!
All shiny & all polished!
I’d be a real hot Robot,
Until I was demolished!
I wish I was a Robot!
There’d be nothing I couldn’t take!
I wish I was a Robot,
So my heart would never break!
I really, really do!
I wish I was a Robot,
Held together by bolts & screws!
I’d be a big strong Robot!
I’d never trip or squirm!
I’d be a big strong Robot,
Never bothered by a germ!
I wish I was a Robot!
I never would be tired!
I wish I was a Robot,
It’s what I’ve long desired!
I’d be a handsome Robot!
No hair to watch fall out!
I’d be a handsome Robot,
Without a sneezy snout!
I wish I was a Robot!
A marvel of design!
I wish I was a Robot,
On electricity I’d dine!
I’d be a real hot Robot!
All shiny & all polished!
I’d be a real hot Robot,
Until I was demolished!
I wish I was a Robot!
There’d be nothing I couldn’t take!
I wish I was a Robot,
So my heart would never break!
Friday, February 22, 2008
Mists Continued: First Chapter - The Beginnings
The morning was unwelcome, when we set out across the vale to escape our wee valley.
The palaver went on beyond the wee hours, the discussion warming & waning as the ale dwindled & weighty decisions were made. Finally, ere the first gleam of dawn smiled upon the ebon sky, they were asleep with murmuring dreams, the rumblings of burdens taken up, & dire things to come.
Sleep did little to steel resolve - there was too much truth for such a thing. Still, I strove to stand my ground in the far corner, behind the glow of the paling embers, eyes wide & refusing rest as I struggled to understand what we must do, & to find within me the strength of conviction to know that I was capable of it.
Dawn was unwelcome, for my spirit was not yet convinced.
Under a foreboding sky, I stood, my morning cup of too-strong tea cooling in my hand, unattended. I looked out across this valley that had been my cradle, my swaddling cloak of green forest tucked deep between the snowy peaks, the slow river an unbroken sash of deeper green girding the whole of what had been my home. Had been: I grunted mirthlessly. Have I already abandoned hope of return?
I heard the massive oaken door creak open behind me, accented by a sharp draw of breath at the chill of the early morn. Lairik, my brother, stamped to my side in a cloud of warmth & steaming breath, his bison fur cloak slung haphazardly across his broad shoulders. “Mishka,” he grumbled, “up so early, yet I see your tea has gone cold: is this how you waste the fire?” I said nothing, but sipped the bitter brew to satisfy him.
“The others will be about soon – I do not wish to set out so late that we are caught too far from the pass at nightfall.” He paused, looking at me with a scowl. “you were quiet last night, and silent you are today-have you nothing to contribute?”
Truly, I wanted no conversings save my communing with my beloved homeland, in sooth for goodbyes & futile promises. For farewells & remembrances, for writing upon my memories the events of my 24 summers here, in this blessed place. Still, Lairik was not one to be denied, as my sibling & as my chieftan. With a rousing sigh, I turned to his scowl & smiled, “Unlike the council, I reserve my words for import.” “If I speak with no weight or meaning, they flutter aloft like lifting dews, useless, gone & forgotten more quickly than a wench’s glance.” His scowl deepened to glower; “Poets! Pfah! Of no consequence, like your mutterings. Come, let us break our fast, and join the trail. The day is leaving our grasp already!” We turned as brothers, his massive arm thumping onto my shoulder, & we strode back into the house, the smells of roasting bison & loon eggs wafting out.
The palaver went on beyond the wee hours, the discussion warming & waning as the ale dwindled & weighty decisions were made. Finally, ere the first gleam of dawn smiled upon the ebon sky, they were asleep with murmuring dreams, the rumblings of burdens taken up, & dire things to come.
Sleep did little to steel resolve - there was too much truth for such a thing. Still, I strove to stand my ground in the far corner, behind the glow of the paling embers, eyes wide & refusing rest as I struggled to understand what we must do, & to find within me the strength of conviction to know that I was capable of it.
Dawn was unwelcome, for my spirit was not yet convinced.
Under a foreboding sky, I stood, my morning cup of too-strong tea cooling in my hand, unattended. I looked out across this valley that had been my cradle, my swaddling cloak of green forest tucked deep between the snowy peaks, the slow river an unbroken sash of deeper green girding the whole of what had been my home. Had been: I grunted mirthlessly. Have I already abandoned hope of return?
I heard the massive oaken door creak open behind me, accented by a sharp draw of breath at the chill of the early morn. Lairik, my brother, stamped to my side in a cloud of warmth & steaming breath, his bison fur cloak slung haphazardly across his broad shoulders. “Mishka,” he grumbled, “up so early, yet I see your tea has gone cold: is this how you waste the fire?” I said nothing, but sipped the bitter brew to satisfy him.
“The others will be about soon – I do not wish to set out so late that we are caught too far from the pass at nightfall.” He paused, looking at me with a scowl. “you were quiet last night, and silent you are today-have you nothing to contribute?”
Truly, I wanted no conversings save my communing with my beloved homeland, in sooth for goodbyes & futile promises. For farewells & remembrances, for writing upon my memories the events of my 24 summers here, in this blessed place. Still, Lairik was not one to be denied, as my sibling & as my chieftan. With a rousing sigh, I turned to his scowl & smiled, “Unlike the council, I reserve my words for import.” “If I speak with no weight or meaning, they flutter aloft like lifting dews, useless, gone & forgotten more quickly than a wench’s glance.” His scowl deepened to glower; “Poets! Pfah! Of no consequence, like your mutterings. Come, let us break our fast, and join the trail. The day is leaving our grasp already!” We turned as brothers, his massive arm thumping onto my shoulder, & we strode back into the house, the smells of roasting bison & loon eggs wafting out.
Writing an Ongoing Story from the Middle - Mists...
This is a scene I wrote, which I envisioned as the promo excerpt for a longer story. I plan to complete the story as it arrives within my spirit...
We strode thru morning misted fields without a destination, the sky reflecting nothing of the grassy moors beneath. 'Twas if the clouds were pressing down, entreating "Stay. Stay & rest, for the noontide will ye soon welcome". My heart well bade me linger, and stroll in leisure among the quiet. Yet on we strode, our boots running with the dews, our eyes intent upon the ground, for there was naught to see before them. There were no other sounds but the sighs of our steps wading thru the low grasses, & the dull tamp of our staffs upon the ground. And above these drifting vapored banks there rose… the oak.
Beneath its’ ancient limbs, the mists parted. It’s dappling shade was somehow clearer than the mists, which slid about it as if wafted by zephyrs we could not discern. A steady, light rain fell from the branches, and cold pools sat among the roots, which were topped with emerald mosses.
We are here, I thought. After all this, we are here.
First chapter: The Beginnings
We strode thru morning misted fields without a destination, the sky reflecting nothing of the grassy moors beneath. 'Twas if the clouds were pressing down, entreating "Stay. Stay & rest, for the noontide will ye soon welcome". My heart well bade me linger, and stroll in leisure among the quiet. Yet on we strode, our boots running with the dews, our eyes intent upon the ground, for there was naught to see before them. There were no other sounds but the sighs of our steps wading thru the low grasses, & the dull tamp of our staffs upon the ground. And above these drifting vapored banks there rose… the oak.
Beneath its’ ancient limbs, the mists parted. It’s dappling shade was somehow clearer than the mists, which slid about it as if wafted by zephyrs we could not discern. A steady, light rain fell from the branches, and cold pools sat among the roots, which were topped with emerald mosses.
We are here, I thought. After all this, we are here.
First chapter: The Beginnings
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Free Stickers? What Could Be Cooler?
The handmade community at Etsy.com is diverse to the extreme. So many different styles & types of items, so many sellers crafting fun & funky & fantastic pieces of art or jewelry or pottery or paintings - you get the idea! So it was with a grin-enducing "Yeah, that doesn't surprise ME!" that I came across a deal from an Etsy seller named "Moopf" (which I thought was the sound I make when I carry too many grocery bags thru the lodge door at once).
The MoopfSter is offering Free Stickers, which he prints in myriad colors & designs. He even includes shipping (but not duties or customs, which should be negligible: hey, htey're STICKERS, right?). So go get your Moopf on at http://www.moopf.com/etsy/freestickers/, & get Moopfsterized today!
After your sticker procurement is complete, check out the rest of the Etsy universe, including my little shop, WolfLodge.etsy.com. I KNOW you will be an Estsyan for life!
The MoopfSter is offering Free Stickers, which he prints in myriad colors & designs. He even includes shipping (but not duties or customs, which should be negligible: hey, htey're STICKERS, right?). So go get your Moopf on at http://www.moopf.com/etsy/freestickers/, & get Moopfsterized today!
After your sticker procurement is complete, check out the rest of the Etsy universe, including my little shop, WolfLodge.etsy.com. I KNOW you will be an Estsyan for life!
Friday, February 08, 2008
Why I weep for America - The Battle Joined
Many years ago now, I reconnected with a buddy that I had not seen for several years, & he was transformed from a hard-drinking, violent man into a shining, happy person. Since then, he went on to become a minister. He told me that he resisted the calling for a few years, then gave in. When I asked him what had precipitated the change, he said that God had told him that the US would be the site of the final battle with the Dark One, & he felt an overwhelming need to help the youth of America prepare for spiritual battle.
Within 6 months, I had also reconnected with my bio-brother after a few years ignoring each other. He was transformed into a shining, happy person. When I asked him what had precipitated the change, he said that God had told him that the US would be the site of the final battle with the Dark One, & he felt an overwhelming need to help the youth of America prepare for spiritual battle.
These 2 guys never met, in fact they lived 800+ miles apart, but their stories & their reasons for change were identical. That battle is ramping up in this America. though I have faith regarding the outcome, I weep for the road we shall travel, and for those who are lost, and those who shall be lost.
Within 6 months, I had also reconnected with my bio-brother after a few years ignoring each other. He was transformed into a shining, happy person. When I asked him what had precipitated the change, he said that God had told him that the US would be the site of the final battle with the Dark One, & he felt an overwhelming need to help the youth of America prepare for spiritual battle.
These 2 guys never met, in fact they lived 800+ miles apart, but their stories & their reasons for change were identical. That battle is ramping up in this America. though I have faith regarding the outcome, I weep for the road we shall travel, and for those who are lost, and those who shall be lost.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Why do I weep for America II - the Dream Train
I weep for lost possibilities. I weep because I have seen the mighty train of the path of this Great American Dream overloaded, its' once-unstoppable firebox now caked with the soot & cinder of untamed consumption & greed & entitlement; its' boiler thinned & warped by the overheated fires of disregard for tomorrow's consequences; its' brakes ground past their purpose as no one will stop to say, "This is enough! This is not right! This must not continue!"
It's once-proud whistle is now a mournful wail; and the rails upon which it rolls are weakened, & crooked, & rusted with corruption & lack of care - too many switches, too many turns, too-few straight stretches of track. This Great American Dream Train once excelled at pulling all loads up the steepest grades of the needs of the world: "I Know we can, I KNOW we can, I KNOW WE CAN!" Now, we have crested the final hill of potentiality, & are hurtling down the mountain into the valleys of despair.
Hank Williams Sr. wrote a song for my StepDad, & it echoes in my ears: "The midnight train, is whinin' low: I'm so lonesome I could cry..."
It's once-proud whistle is now a mournful wail; and the rails upon which it rolls are weakened, & crooked, & rusted with corruption & lack of care - too many switches, too many turns, too-few straight stretches of track. This Great American Dream Train once excelled at pulling all loads up the steepest grades of the needs of the world: "I Know we can, I KNOW we can, I KNOW WE CAN!" Now, we have crested the final hill of potentiality, & are hurtling down the mountain into the valleys of despair.
Hank Williams Sr. wrote a song for my StepDad, & it echoes in my ears: "The midnight train, is whinin' low: I'm so lonesome I could cry..."
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Why do I weep for America?
My friends, I am nearly overcome. I feel today as if my beloved USA is slipping away, & my hands are not strong enough to hold on to it. To quote the Rock Biter from Never Ending Story, "They look like good, strong hands, don't they?" That's what I always thought they were - good, strong, artistic hands. Sadly, I have been proven wrong, so many times. Like the Biter, I cannot hold onto Nothing.
My vision of the US (heretofore arbitrarily referred to as 'America') was of a wondrous place where the only bounds were those of possibility; where the fact of my "Difference" was to be celebrated within the bounds of inclusion. An America where all that was needed was the will, the energy, the verve & determination, because nothing else would be put in your way.
My grandfathers slaved in coal mines & paid the price with their broken bodies & destroyed lungs. Thru it all, they loved this America & supported it proudly. Two sons served under our flag - one was never the same after Korea. Still, Grandpap knew the price of freedom.
When my sister died in Egypt, her husband, a Saudi pilot, was devastated. We lost track of him until Desert Storm, when he was interviewed by CNN on the tarmac: his quote, with tears running down his cheeks, "Gentlemen, all I can tell you is God Bless the United States of America!" Abdullah knew the price of freedom.
My late Cajun buddy Jack served in Vietnam, & suffered from the effects of Agent Orange exposure. Jack knew the price of freedom.
I do not advocate blind allegiance - Grandpap made that clear when we discussed the possibility that I would be drafted. You can be loyal to your country without sacrificing your right to disagree or dissent where appropriate.
My darlin' wife can look at me & say, "Your hands hurt, don't they." I cry the tears of the Rock Biter, staring at them, knowing I am not strong enough.
My vision of the US (heretofore arbitrarily referred to as 'America') was of a wondrous place where the only bounds were those of possibility; where the fact of my "Difference" was to be celebrated within the bounds of inclusion. An America where all that was needed was the will, the energy, the verve & determination, because nothing else would be put in your way.
My grandfathers slaved in coal mines & paid the price with their broken bodies & destroyed lungs. Thru it all, they loved this America & supported it proudly. Two sons served under our flag - one was never the same after Korea. Still, Grandpap knew the price of freedom.
When my sister died in Egypt, her husband, a Saudi pilot, was devastated. We lost track of him until Desert Storm, when he was interviewed by CNN on the tarmac: his quote, with tears running down his cheeks, "Gentlemen, all I can tell you is God Bless the United States of America!" Abdullah knew the price of freedom.
My late Cajun buddy Jack served in Vietnam, & suffered from the effects of Agent Orange exposure. Jack knew the price of freedom.
I do not advocate blind allegiance - Grandpap made that clear when we discussed the possibility that I would be drafted. You can be loyal to your country without sacrificing your right to disagree or dissent where appropriate.
My darlin' wife can look at me & say, "Your hands hurt, don't they." I cry the tears of the Rock Biter, staring at them, knowing I am not strong enough.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Lakota Nation Makes Its Own Way
On Wednesday December 19th, 2007, the Lakota Nation declared itself a sovereign nation, 2 days after withdrawing from every treaty it had ever signed with the United States.
“This is an historic day for our Lakota people,” declared Russell Means, Itacan of Lakota. “United States colonial rule is at its end!”
The failures of the U.S. to honor & follow the tenets of the treaties are many & well documented. My darlin' wife followed in the tracks of her beloved Grandmother, who lived among Pawnee & Lakota in Nebraska, as well as Pacific Northwest tribes as a cook in the logging camps. Both women have seen firsthand the plight of these proud peoples, their numbers decimated by war, genocide, starvation, & inflicted poverty. Both have fed those that they could, & the hearts of my family are with them.
Some of the statistics cited at http://www.republicoflakotah.com/why.html are stunning:
Life expectancy of Lakotah males - 44 years
Death rates highest in US, infant mortality 300% more, teen suicide 150% of US average.
Over 50% battle addictions, 80% of homes affected by alcohol. Along with drug & alcohol abuse comes unnaturally high rates of incarceration.
Tuberculosis: +800%
Cervical cancer: +300%
Under the poverty line: +97%
No clean water/sweage systems: +33%
Unemployment: +80%
We encourage you to visit the site & read the rest of the data there to improve understanding of the plight of indigenous peoples with the boundaries of the U.S.
It remains to see what we the non-Native residents of the United States of America can do to assist our Lakota bretheren, as well as all the tribes on this continent.
“This is an historic day for our Lakota people,” declared Russell Means, Itacan of Lakota. “United States colonial rule is at its end!”
The failures of the U.S. to honor & follow the tenets of the treaties are many & well documented. My darlin' wife followed in the tracks of her beloved Grandmother, who lived among Pawnee & Lakota in Nebraska, as well as Pacific Northwest tribes as a cook in the logging camps. Both women have seen firsthand the plight of these proud peoples, their numbers decimated by war, genocide, starvation, & inflicted poverty. Both have fed those that they could, & the hearts of my family are with them.
Some of the statistics cited at http://www.republicoflakotah.com/why.html are stunning:
Life expectancy of Lakotah males - 44 years
Death rates highest in US, infant mortality 300% more, teen suicide 150% of US average.
Over 50% battle addictions, 80% of homes affected by alcohol. Along with drug & alcohol abuse comes unnaturally high rates of incarceration.
Tuberculosis: +800%
Cervical cancer: +300%
Under the poverty line: +97%
No clean water/sweage systems: +33%
Unemployment: +80%
We encourage you to visit the site & read the rest of the data there to improve understanding of the plight of indigenous peoples with the boundaries of the U.S.
It remains to see what we the non-Native residents of the United States of America can do to assist our Lakota bretheren, as well as all the tribes on this continent.
Lakota Freedom Declaration
On December 19th, 2007, the Lakota Nation declared itself a sovereign nation after withdrawing from all treaties with the United States 2 days before.
“This is an historic day for our Lakota people,” declared Russell Means, Itacan of Lakota. “United States colonial rule is at its end!
The document is available at www.lakotafreedom.com/121907.pdf & outlines the reasons for this action. More detail is available at www.lakotafreedom.com.
“This is an historic day for our Lakota people,” declared Russell Means, Itacan of Lakota. “United States colonial rule is at its end!
The document is available at www.lakotafreedom.com/121907.pdf & outlines the reasons for this action. More detail is available at www.lakotafreedom.com.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Why I love my wife!
I just figured it was a good time to go ahead & try, at least, to count the ways...
35 years, & more in love every day.
She GETS me.
She adores me - (really!)Surprising as that may seem.
She is kindhearted.
She is patient (see 35 yrs above).
I can tell her moods & health by the color of those stunning baby blues.
She has a healing touch, even before the Reiki training.
She is a world-class cook.
She is tough when she has to be.
She's as defenseless as a howitzer.
She is a polio survivor.
She is a 2-time cancer survivor.
She is a been-married-to-Wolf survivor.
She is goofy.
She calls her delicate wonderful hands "stubby mitts"
She suffers thru all my Ernest & Mr. Bean videos.
She sits thru all those hours of pro rasslin' I watch every week.
She's better informed than I am (even tho I work at a newspaper!)
I find her just staring at me in that way that makes me feel so fine!
She is gorgeous in my eyes even though not in hers (when I state it, she reminds me how blind I am - but I do not need eyes to see her beauty).
We grew up the same, surrounded by hatred, violence, & sneering disdain, so we KNOW.
She considers me a gift from God, & I know she is the same for me.
She never gives up, never gives up, never gives up!
She wants me to buy the tools I need even when I'm too cheap.
She doesn't mind that I am NOT a plumber.
She gives me great input about choker designs.
She is amazed at what I can build, even tho it may not be perfect.
She comes outside to watch me work, just to be close to me. Recently did this even tho the walk took a lot out of her, to watch me build a brick pedestal for one of our wolf statues.
She lets me wait on her, even when she feels it should be the other way around.
When she was hurt so badly recently, she insisted that it would be a temporary situation. It was, & she is walking pretty well now!
When she was mostly paralyzed by polio, she operated diaper pins with her teeth!
She very rarely used disposable diapers on our son – taught me to fold cloth ones like a pro!
After one of my back injuries, she threw me on her back & dragged me to bed, when I couldn’t walk on my own.
She stayed up all night with our infant son when he had this breathing-is-sooo- overrated phase.
She’s 4’ 11 ¾”, but we let her claim 5’.
Claims not to be an animal lover, but loves it when the cats jump up & snuggle.
Misses the squirrels that used to hang out around the lodge, & gets as excited as I do when the deer come by.
Used to be a crack shot, great hunter, could light & put out matches with her .22
Grandkids love her as much as I do
Has sung at Carnegie Hall, the White House, the Ryman Auditorium, & as backup for Hank Williams. (my stepdad's ol' drinkin' buddy)
Her head fits perfectly on my shoulder
My arm fits perfectly around her waist
She doesn’t mind me pushing her around (in her wheelchair)
She keeps telling me I need to order more beads, or to go to Tandy Leather…
She didn’t mind when I brought in 3 truckloads of free cedar lumber (Yes, I’m using it!)
She didn’t mind when I brought in a trailer load of free brick pavers (Yes, I’m using it!)
Keeps the TV on the country music channel because our birds bitch if she doesn’t
She is thrifty except when it comes to me.
She never complained about having to eat my cooking for 7 weeks.
She loves my coffee & can’t wait for the weekend when I cook a couple pots.
She brags about my mondo eggs that I make mebbe twice a year
She sings to me
She loves to hear me sing
She shares my Steelers addiction
She chides me for not pursuing my lil’ acting career or my radio fetish
She RARELY wears makeup, so I can see how beautiful she really is
She shares our ministry
The hypocrisy in Religion does not diminish her FAITH
She has a rockin’ knife collection
She knows how to use a machete
Every time I leave, she tells me to be careful
She never minds when I call her
She taught me & trained my voice for an operatic competition (tied for 1st with a roaring chest cold)
She used to bake bread for hungry reservation families in S. Dakota
An elderly chief at our flea market booth in Austin recognized her immediately from all those yrs ago
She can order those coconut cookies from the ancient woman at the flea market who speaks no English even tho she speaks no Spanish (while our son, a fluent Espanoler, has a tough time w/her).
Bikers think she’s great
She took NO CRAP from my drunken bio-family
Her Grandmother died in her arms when she was 14: she had already learned a lifetime of knowledge from her.
Come to think of it, she takes NO CRAP from anybody…except occasionally lil' ol’ me
She calls me FireFace.
She still loves my almost-waist-length mane
She used to play connect-the-dots with my freckles
She doesn’t mind that I have destroyed my wedding ring numerous times – more concerned with my fingers surviving
When her assistant was trapped under the front wheel of a Suburban, the crowd around was unable to get the truck off her. With my best Wolf growl I dove into the wheel well, grabbed the rim & suspension, & heaved the truck into the air. My dainty wife with a hearty “Oh, s**t!” grabbed the woman’s jeans & yanked. Her hands tore right thru the denim. She let out an equally hearty “Damn it!”, grabbed belt & bra, & whipped that looney out like she was on ball bearings! I set it down, she’s yelling for me to get out, I say it’s still in gear, & we’re on a hill: she leaps into the big truck & hits the emergency brake & slams it into park so that I can ease out. Didn’t even make me go to the hospital even tho my back was split open from right shoulder to left hip.
She loves to have supper ready when I get home, & to serve me at the table
When she hears the lids “set” on the canning jars she laughs with joy
She loves to garden with me
She pours my iced tea first, as do I hers
She loves fires in the fireplace in winter
She enjoys an occasional glass of wine, or a sip of my monthly beer; she mentions how proud she is that we can have booze in the house & not get drunk as my bio-family does.
She bakes wonderful breads & indulges my addiction to pie. MMMMmmm, pIIIIIeeee..
She asks me for menu ideas & then cooks what I want
She teaches stuff to our birds
She bought me an animated turtle that looks like Diana Ross – dances & sings “You Can’t Hurry Love!”
She oft compares me to her 1st husband, & tells me I win every time.
She thanks me that she can just be “her” around me – says she never had that before
She loves my hands
I realize she can still kick my butt
When I am in pain, she knows it
She gives me Reiki treatment while I sleep if she knows I am hurting
She lets me keep the bedroom cool & piles on her own blankets, so I can sleep better.
She orders her shrimp when she wants it, knowing I can’t stand the stuff – makes sure I get my oysters when I want.
She hates liver as much as I do
She’ll make me pierogies even though she doesn’t care for them
She tries really hard to recreate foods from my Hunky childhood even though my descriptions/recollections are pretty poor
She indulges my passion for deep frying turkeys, which she doesn’t like that much.
She likes my homemade soymilk ice cream experiments
She loves to hang out on the swing or one of our gliders with me
She loves our screened deck & is going to put up with the wheelchair ramp, even tho she’d rather step up on her own.
She puts up with me bringing her a wildflower, or a particularly cool leaf, or something unexpected from the woods or the garden.
She sees what I see in nature.
She once did a Reiki treatment on a lifeless hummingbird that our hunting mama cat dropped in her lap. After a while it fluttered its wings, lifted off, turned & chirped at her, & left. She still tears up about that one!
She did a Reiki treatment on a frozen stiff newborn kitten that my wacky cat birthed on January 31st. She had them on our concrete carport slab, & this one wedged itself in next to my chimney. My son extracted it & called for Mom. After a while it stirred, she kept it from Mama til it was squirming quite well, & it became the most active of the litter. We call her “Dead Cat”. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
She loves venison
She makes these hearty soup that are so thick I call them “Stewp”
She loves limburger & onion sammiches
She doesn’t mind when I eat my “stinky cheese” (Bleu or gorgonzola)
She called my stepdad “Pops”
Her hair just SHINES!
She once sat up all night sewing fake fur into my jacket & cap & pockets because I had to walk several miles to catch the bus for work.
There are innumerous more reasons why I love, cherish, & adore this wonderful woman, who is a true gift from the Creator. I pray to be able to extend this list for years to come.
35 years, & more in love every day.
She GETS me.
She adores me - (really!)Surprising as that may seem.
She is kindhearted.
She is patient (see 35 yrs above).
I can tell her moods & health by the color of those stunning baby blues.
She has a healing touch, even before the Reiki training.
She is a world-class cook.
She is tough when she has to be.
She's as defenseless as a howitzer.
She is a polio survivor.
She is a 2-time cancer survivor.
She is a been-married-to-Wolf survivor.
She is goofy.
She calls her delicate wonderful hands "stubby mitts"
She suffers thru all my Ernest & Mr. Bean videos.
She sits thru all those hours of pro rasslin' I watch every week.
She's better informed than I am (even tho I work at a newspaper!)
I find her just staring at me in that way that makes me feel so fine!
She is gorgeous in my eyes even though not in hers (when I state it, she reminds me how blind I am - but I do not need eyes to see her beauty).
We grew up the same, surrounded by hatred, violence, & sneering disdain, so we KNOW.
She considers me a gift from God, & I know she is the same for me.
She never gives up, never gives up, never gives up!
She wants me to buy the tools I need even when I'm too cheap.
She doesn't mind that I am NOT a plumber.
She gives me great input about choker designs.
She is amazed at what I can build, even tho it may not be perfect.
She comes outside to watch me work, just to be close to me. Recently did this even tho the walk took a lot out of her, to watch me build a brick pedestal for one of our wolf statues.
She lets me wait on her, even when she feels it should be the other way around.
When she was hurt so badly recently, she insisted that it would be a temporary situation. It was, & she is walking pretty well now!
When she was mostly paralyzed by polio, she operated diaper pins with her teeth!
She very rarely used disposable diapers on our son – taught me to fold cloth ones like a pro!
After one of my back injuries, she threw me on her back & dragged me to bed, when I couldn’t walk on my own.
She stayed up all night with our infant son when he had this breathing-is-sooo- overrated phase.
She’s 4’ 11 ¾”, but we let her claim 5’.
Claims not to be an animal lover, but loves it when the cats jump up & snuggle.
Misses the squirrels that used to hang out around the lodge, & gets as excited as I do when the deer come by.
Used to be a crack shot, great hunter, could light & put out matches with her .22
Grandkids love her as much as I do
Has sung at Carnegie Hall, the White House, the Ryman Auditorium, & as backup for Hank Williams. (my stepdad's ol' drinkin' buddy)
Her head fits perfectly on my shoulder
My arm fits perfectly around her waist
She doesn’t mind me pushing her around (in her wheelchair)
She keeps telling me I need to order more beads, or to go to Tandy Leather…
She didn’t mind when I brought in 3 truckloads of free cedar lumber (Yes, I’m using it!)
She didn’t mind when I brought in a trailer load of free brick pavers (Yes, I’m using it!)
Keeps the TV on the country music channel because our birds bitch if she doesn’t
She is thrifty except when it comes to me.
She never complained about having to eat my cooking for 7 weeks.
She loves my coffee & can’t wait for the weekend when I cook a couple pots.
She brags about my mondo eggs that I make mebbe twice a year
She sings to me
She loves to hear me sing
She shares my Steelers addiction
She chides me for not pursuing my lil’ acting career or my radio fetish
She RARELY wears makeup, so I can see how beautiful she really is
She shares our ministry
The hypocrisy in Religion does not diminish her FAITH
She has a rockin’ knife collection
She knows how to use a machete
Every time I leave, she tells me to be careful
She never minds when I call her
She taught me & trained my voice for an operatic competition (tied for 1st with a roaring chest cold)
She used to bake bread for hungry reservation families in S. Dakota
An elderly chief at our flea market booth in Austin recognized her immediately from all those yrs ago
She can order those coconut cookies from the ancient woman at the flea market who speaks no English even tho she speaks no Spanish (while our son, a fluent Espanoler, has a tough time w/her).
Bikers think she’s great
She took NO CRAP from my drunken bio-family
Her Grandmother died in her arms when she was 14: she had already learned a lifetime of knowledge from her.
Come to think of it, she takes NO CRAP from anybody…except occasionally lil' ol’ me
She calls me FireFace.
She still loves my almost-waist-length mane
She used to play connect-the-dots with my freckles
She doesn’t mind that I have destroyed my wedding ring numerous times – more concerned with my fingers surviving
When her assistant was trapped under the front wheel of a Suburban, the crowd around was unable to get the truck off her. With my best Wolf growl I dove into the wheel well, grabbed the rim & suspension, & heaved the truck into the air. My dainty wife with a hearty “Oh, s**t!” grabbed the woman’s jeans & yanked. Her hands tore right thru the denim. She let out an equally hearty “Damn it!”, grabbed belt & bra, & whipped that looney out like she was on ball bearings! I set it down, she’s yelling for me to get out, I say it’s still in gear, & we’re on a hill: she leaps into the big truck & hits the emergency brake & slams it into park so that I can ease out. Didn’t even make me go to the hospital even tho my back was split open from right shoulder to left hip.
She loves to have supper ready when I get home, & to serve me at the table
When she hears the lids “set” on the canning jars she laughs with joy
She loves to garden with me
She pours my iced tea first, as do I hers
She loves fires in the fireplace in winter
She enjoys an occasional glass of wine, or a sip of my monthly beer; she mentions how proud she is that we can have booze in the house & not get drunk as my bio-family does.
She bakes wonderful breads & indulges my addiction to pie. MMMMmmm, pIIIIIeeee..
She asks me for menu ideas & then cooks what I want
She teaches stuff to our birds
She bought me an animated turtle that looks like Diana Ross – dances & sings “You Can’t Hurry Love!”
She oft compares me to her 1st husband, & tells me I win every time.
She thanks me that she can just be “her” around me – says she never had that before
She loves my hands
I realize she can still kick my butt
When I am in pain, she knows it
She gives me Reiki treatment while I sleep if she knows I am hurting
She lets me keep the bedroom cool & piles on her own blankets, so I can sleep better.
She orders her shrimp when she wants it, knowing I can’t stand the stuff – makes sure I get my oysters when I want.
She hates liver as much as I do
She’ll make me pierogies even though she doesn’t care for them
She tries really hard to recreate foods from my Hunky childhood even though my descriptions/recollections are pretty poor
She indulges my passion for deep frying turkeys, which she doesn’t like that much.
She likes my homemade soymilk ice cream experiments
She loves to hang out on the swing or one of our gliders with me
She loves our screened deck & is going to put up with the wheelchair ramp, even tho she’d rather step up on her own.
She puts up with me bringing her a wildflower, or a particularly cool leaf, or something unexpected from the woods or the garden.
She sees what I see in nature.
She once did a Reiki treatment on a lifeless hummingbird that our hunting mama cat dropped in her lap. After a while it fluttered its wings, lifted off, turned & chirped at her, & left. She still tears up about that one!
She did a Reiki treatment on a frozen stiff newborn kitten that my wacky cat birthed on January 31st. She had them on our concrete carport slab, & this one wedged itself in next to my chimney. My son extracted it & called for Mom. After a while it stirred, she kept it from Mama til it was squirming quite well, & it became the most active of the litter. We call her “Dead Cat”. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
She loves venison
She makes these hearty soup that are so thick I call them “Stewp”
She loves limburger & onion sammiches
She doesn’t mind when I eat my “stinky cheese” (Bleu or gorgonzola)
She called my stepdad “Pops”
Her hair just SHINES!
She once sat up all night sewing fake fur into my jacket & cap & pockets because I had to walk several miles to catch the bus for work.
There are innumerous more reasons why I love, cherish, & adore this wonderful woman, who is a true gift from the Creator. I pray to be able to extend this list for years to come.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
The Ol' Abbot's Bad Doggy Rodeo
Redneck neighbors have 2 very large dogs that are becoming aggressive. One is a chocolate lab, the other is yellow & looks like a lab/Great Dane mix. The brown one came onto our property once while back & I shooed him off. The yellow one has come over numerous times, & growls & snarls at me when I try to run him off before he hurts my cats/kittens.
Recently he was doing his macho bravado canine gig, so I drop down & give him my best alpha male wolf snarl. He yelps, jumps into the air, then clumsily skitters back to his own yard. He stops & turns, woofs: I growl, he tears off, taking up chocolate boy in tow as they bolt at full tilt past their humans' house.
Recently I heard him yelp - I bolted outside, he was in full retreat & my mama cat was strolling nonchalantly across the porch. Hmmm. Today my darlin' wife hears the same thing, opens the door & loses it. Out in the driveway is Big Yeller, howling for all he's worth as mama cat swings merrily on his side & he spins in crazy circles trying to dislodge this teeny tabby. Her tomcat tabby son is standing on Big Yeller's back, riding him like a mechanical bull. This goes on until he tires out & lies down. My cats climb down & saunter up the driveway. He jumps up & hauls for home. Yee-haaawww!
Funny today, but I worry about my wife being outside without me.I guess she'll be OK as long as little mama cat Jewel is on patrol. "Warning: this property guarded by nursing elderly attack kitty. "
Recently he was doing his macho bravado canine gig, so I drop down & give him my best alpha male wolf snarl. He yelps, jumps into the air, then clumsily skitters back to his own yard. He stops & turns, woofs: I growl, he tears off, taking up chocolate boy in tow as they bolt at full tilt past their humans' house.
Recently I heard him yelp - I bolted outside, he was in full retreat & my mama cat was strolling nonchalantly across the porch. Hmmm. Today my darlin' wife hears the same thing, opens the door & loses it. Out in the driveway is Big Yeller, howling for all he's worth as mama cat swings merrily on his side & he spins in crazy circles trying to dislodge this teeny tabby. Her tomcat tabby son is standing on Big Yeller's back, riding him like a mechanical bull. This goes on until he tires out & lies down. My cats climb down & saunter up the driveway. He jumps up & hauls for home. Yee-haaawww!
Funny today, but I worry about my wife being outside without me.I guess she'll be OK as long as little mama cat Jewel is on patrol. "Warning: this property guarded by nursing elderly attack kitty. "
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
2-rows, 3-rows, 4-rows, we got 'em!
It is always an exciting time when we craftaholics take the opportunity to add new styles to our repertoire. I have been doing 3-row chokers since the beginning, & added 2-row pieces a few months ago. I just added 4-row chokers & sold my 1st one as a custom order!
So cool to be able to build another person’s vision!
So cool to be able to build another person’s vision!
Also working on a Design-Your-Own Tribal Choker page on my website at www.WolfLodgeTX.com with a photo of the glass crow bead colors I usually have in stock. Need to add photos of the bone & horn hairpipe sizes & the options for golden deerskin or black leather, & bone vs. leather spacers. Whew!Wouldn’t it be neat to have a page that would let you play around with components & be able to see a virtual mockup of your finished design? Sort of like how many clothing catalog sites let you see an item in various colors: it can be done, but it’s out of my pricing budget for the foreseeable future.
Built another 4-row custom order in dark red last night, have 1 more to build in a nice aqua/teal color. Hopefully these will be satisfactory!
I found some really neat turquoise pendants about 1 ½” wide; one blue & one green, each with an interesting matrix. Have to find the exact combination of colors to show them off properly.
Still working on my 3rd dice tower with my 1st attempt at abalone inlay – a whole lot more work than I expected!
I have more designs in my brain bucket than I have time to fashion, as well as all those home projects: the brick walkways, brick pedestals for our wolf statues (1 of the 3 still awaits paint), rebuilding the porch for a wheelchair ramp, as well as adding a ramp & screen door to our little screened room. I already have all the brick (free!), and those piles of cedar lumber (free!), just have to haul sand & mortar & my butt out there to get to work (free!). Boy, do I need retirement or what?!?
My darlin’ wife is doing better, 6 weeks out from her concussion. She is up & around somewhat, & is doing the cooking again – woo-hoo! Our zoo is very happy to see her again.
Thank You, Father, for your blessings. May we ever prove worthy of them: amen!
Monday, September 10, 2007
The Process of Family - The Beginning
It may seem otherwise to those who are blessed enough to know all their relations – warts & all – but to me, family is an ever-changing, dynamic thing, more of a process than an entity. My perception of family is a lake into which souls flow, stay varying lengths of time, then flow out again. Some float atop the waves, riding the tempests & foundering in the calms, others dive deep, & most flow out the other end. Some evaporate, a few sink into the depths. And all the while, we are floating in others’ lakes, an unending overlapping sea of transitory human experience.
At the headwaters of my particular stream, (back home, we called ‘em “cricks”), I had 2 siblings, a Mother, an aunt, 2 Grandparents. & asst. drunks. I have searched for years to find my Father, & my 5-6 half-siblings, to no avail. As no trace of this purported parent has ever surfaced, and knowing that my Mum was definitely not a candidate for ’Immaculate Conception II, the Sequel’, I have to accept that I have been misled. Funny that, as Grandma was overly fond of reminding us that the
So, how do you build a family when the fish refuse to swim together? You try to become a transitional generation. My son knows the meaning of both love & affection. Other swimmers have joined our little armada, & are closer to us than are our bio-relatives. Here is another incarnation of the Process of Family. The woman I refer to as Mother I met just 10 yrs. ago. Her son – my twin-brother-of-a-different-mother swims deeper in my heart than my sibling bro. It turns out that this Familial Process is the goal, after all. Gather in friends, acquaintances, blood relatives if you must; swim together, & watch carefully for the sharks of dysfunction.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Up Against the Wall, RedHead Fathers!
Well, here we are - smack dab in the middle of September, facing the Gallows of October. As of that fateful month, our jobs require that we achieve 80% of our revenue goals or forfeit all commission pay for the month's labors. In my case that leaves me making less than $8/hour at the tenderly ripe age of 52 years. For 6 months prior to this Doomsday Sword of Damocles, we needed to achieve 60% or go without. My desk has been averaging right around 67%: this month a bit less, & every other desk in our group is doing the same percentage. Of course, some desk have much more revenue in their book of business (much of which used to be MY business) so 'tis not really apples vs. the oranges.
Tack onto this a catastrophic diminution of my driven attitude & my competitive spirit, & the outlook is bleaker than Starbucks' chances of opening a few stores in Darfur.
So what's an Ol' Abbot to do when he is graying without growing earnings? My eBay biz slowed to a crawl & actually shifted into reverse as my fees have outstripped my sales for months now. My sales at etsy.com have been better, but still too few to cover my associated fees. I have revised almost all my photos on etsy, as well as on WolfLodgeTX.com .I am looking into a couple other sites, yessy,com for art , cafepress.com for images on t-shirts, mugs etc., & Elance.com for writing. Now if only I can earn enough for the startup fees to get into them...
Meanwhile I have been busily constructing a dice tower for resale, a castle tower with all the rock work already carved. I carefully hollowed out a niche to inlay an abalone shell only to break the shell after an hour's work. I have another shell, but his particular one was beautiful beyond any I have ever seen. Gonna make lemonade with this lemon as I have wanted to experiment with carving abalone - now I have an excuse! I have several new designs fior these towers ingrained in my brainbucket - oh for time time time!
I have piles of old cedar planks which I have used to surface a 10x12 deck & make a tabletop. A few ideas about that stuff are percolating around also.
My beloved darlin' of 35 years has been having serious health issues. She has taken 3 falls in the past 2 months, the last one incurring a concussion & a particularly nasty head wound. As a polio & cancer survivor, she is adamant that there will be no doctors or EMTs involved. So I am her healer.
Thank the Creator for Reiki & prayer & His healing touch! She has been subjected to my cooking & shopping & laundry "skills" for weeks now. Being unable to travel, I know she is detesting her confinement to the bedroom, & is getting "itchy" these past several days. Perhaps this weekend she can come out to sit in the great room for a while so that our zoo can hang out with her.
Our son is having a tough time with his roomie being unable to work for a while, & then his pay was shorted over 60% this week. Our Blond Bombshell daughter is raising her 4 yr old grandson: now his bio-mother is threatening to take him away.
I am beginning to think we should all change our names to Job! Still, on we slog through the fog of uncertainty, bound by love & leaning upon all the shoulders we can, because we know that the Father's will shall be done, & His rewards are there, somewhere, somewhen...somehow.
Tack onto this a catastrophic diminution of my driven attitude & my competitive spirit, & the outlook is bleaker than Starbucks' chances of opening a few stores in Darfur.
So what's an Ol' Abbot to do when he is graying without growing earnings? My eBay biz slowed to a crawl & actually shifted into reverse as my fees have outstripped my sales for months now. My sales at etsy.com have been better, but still too few to cover my associated fees. I have revised almost all my photos on etsy, as well as on WolfLodgeTX.com .I am looking into a couple other sites, yessy,com for art , cafepress.com for images on t-shirts, mugs etc., & Elance.com for writing. Now if only I can earn enough for the startup fees to get into them...
Meanwhile I have been busily constructing a dice tower for resale, a castle tower with all the rock work already carved. I carefully hollowed out a niche to inlay an abalone shell only to break the shell after an hour's work. I have another shell, but his particular one was beautiful beyond any I have ever seen. Gonna make lemonade with this lemon as I have wanted to experiment with carving abalone - now I have an excuse! I have several new designs fior these towers ingrained in my brainbucket - oh for time time time!
I have piles of old cedar planks which I have used to surface a 10x12 deck & make a tabletop. A few ideas about that stuff are percolating around also.
My beloved darlin' of 35 years has been having serious health issues. She has taken 3 falls in the past 2 months, the last one incurring a concussion & a particularly nasty head wound. As a polio & cancer survivor, she is adamant that there will be no doctors or EMTs involved. So I am her healer.
Thank the Creator for Reiki & prayer & His healing touch! She has been subjected to my cooking & shopping & laundry "skills" for weeks now. Being unable to travel, I know she is detesting her confinement to the bedroom, & is getting "itchy" these past several days. Perhaps this weekend she can come out to sit in the great room for a while so that our zoo can hang out with her.
Our son is having a tough time with his roomie being unable to work for a while, & then his pay was shorted over 60% this week. Our Blond Bombshell daughter is raising her 4 yr old grandson: now his bio-mother is threatening to take him away.
I am beginning to think we should all change our names to Job! Still, on we slog through the fog of uncertainty, bound by love & leaning upon all the shoulders we can, because we know that the Father's will shall be done, & His rewards are there, somewhere, somewhen...somehow.
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