Blog Posts

SNOW!

12/16/2014

It finally snowed! So much of my life has been spent dreading the cold and winter weather. I'm not sure why that went away.

When I was a child, I huddled by the warm air register much of the time. Occasionally my mom would force me to "play" outside. I remember going into the barn with the cows to keep warm. (Though I was afraid of their long tongues reaching out for me like I was a bale of hay or a scoop of oats.)

When I became a teenager, I still hated the cold/snow. Except when large, lazy, white puffs fell on my 'nose and eyelashes'. Why do we think that is so romantic? My mom and brother and I went to the city to see Mary Poppins. When we came out of the theater, large flakes were coming down; so beautiful by the streetlamp light! And, yes, they did land appropriately.

For some reason, in later years, I've grown to like and even (sometimes) love snow. I'm still partial to the puffs and enjoy the glittery diamond-like glow in the cold, fierce winter sunshine.

Certainly, I don't want to be out for long periods of time. But Milton and I walk around the house looking for suitable spots for elimination. (Not for me; that would be taking my new-found love of winter a bit too far.) I even shoveled my steps, walk and driveway last year.

So, YAY for snow and for finally accepting (and embracing) what I cannot change!

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Working Girl Blues

12/12/2014

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Time goes on.
Usually without thought
of buried feelings, hurts, inner angst.
Easier to ignore, push down,
gloss over, keep busy,
'don't worry, be happy'.

Then life interrupts the peace,
serenity of the days
in a small or large way.
Dredges up the inner, the hidden.

I've come to acknowledge and accept
the necessity for this growth process in my life.
But sometimes (like right now)
it irritates the hell out of me!

Why always growing?
Growth brings pain.
I thought I'd be grown by now.
Why isn't there ever a becoming?
Ever an arriving?
Ever a finish?

Always more learning.
More erupting from deep.
More hidden...
surfacing.
Surprises from within.
Rarely good.

More work to be done.
Truths to be faced.
Hopefully overcome.
Dealt with-maybe eradicated.
But always more.

Sometimes a rest from the knowing.
But always the return.
From the depths.
The chore of discovery.
The facing of innermost secrets.
I keep from myself.

I think it will only stop when I stop.
So, I'll reluctantly welcome the process
for the rest of my life.

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Fall

11/25/2014

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I took a quiz my friend, Sue, posted on Facebook.

I'm 'a fall'.

Who wouldn't want to be crisp and sunny? (aren't we all occasionally overcast and dreary?)
Gorgeously, riotously colorful; red, gold, yellow, brown, pink, (I've seen pink leaves I say defensively), purplish mixed with ever green.

If forced to pick, (they're all good) I'd pick fall, autumn, harvest-time, ingathering/reaping what summer warmth has yielded.

Football
Memories of back-to-school (good and not)
Meeting my ex-husband (good and not)
Having two fall babies (good and good) Must give a shout-out to one lovely spring baby (good)
Hayrides (good and not)
Soooo many birthdays (I'm a fall baby, too)
Halloweens and parties (good and not)
Raking leaves and jumping in; raking leaves and burning/yummy smell; drives to look and look at aforementioned colors. (all good)

So many sights, smells, tastes, feelings and remembrances!

I'm glad I'm 'a fall'.

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Do Not Go Gentle...

11/14/2014

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Such a sunny, warm day. 52 degrees in November. Milton and I are sitting in the sunshine in the kitchen. A time to settle down and reflect.

Death is an inevitable part of life. I just wish it ALWAYS came after many long years of living. My mom died at 57 in November of 1978. She struggled to live for three years after a heart attack. The life of the beloved daughter of friends was brutally taken in November a few years ago. A beautiful niece lost her battle with breast cancer November of this year. I'm not singling out or blaming this month. We've all had many losses and no month is exempt.

My dad died at 91. Wish he could've lived forever, but he had his share. Sad, but not tragic or brutal or devastating. A 'good death'.

At 37, Dylan Thomas (who also died in November at age 39) wrote his famous poem.

"Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

I would've agreed at 37. Now I don't. Dad went 'gentle into that good night'. Appropriate after 91 years of happiness, sadness, good times and bad. I held his hand as he relaxed his grip on a full life.

A life cut short by disease or violence; that deserves "raving at the close" and "raging against the dying of the light".

Those who die old and full of years-they're the lucky ones.

We won't live forever, but I hope we 'get our share'.

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HOW DID WE GET HERE FROM THERE?

11/10/2014

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I just returned to Ohio from a short vacation in Missouri, the "Show-Me" state.

I have nothing against Missouri. It just surprises me that my sister ended up living there via; Pennsylvania, Arizona, Florida, Pennsylvania and Arizona.

Dave (David Lee Rotten) had booked a flight and reserved a few days for me at our time-share in Branson during my visit to New York. I've ventured through a few times on my way across country, but never was it my chosen destination til now.

My mind goes back to my growing up years on Dad's dairy farm in Pennsylvania. Many of us still had marriage, home, family as our goal. So, I wondered who I would marry when I grew up.

Never once did I wonder WHERE I would be. Where my family would be; mom and dad, sisters and brother, nephews and nieces, cousins, aunts, uncles. Never thought of death; changes; spreading throughout the country. California, Oklahoma, Florida, Missouri, Texas, Virginia, Ohio, Maryland, Arizona, Michigan, New York, Illinois, Alaska, Colorado, a few still in Pennsylvania.

I come from a time way after the adventurous settlers and way before our society lost anchor; became transient. I didn't expect divorce, death and miles and miles to separate me from that time, that innocence. I enjoy my life, but I miss us; every one.

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LeAnn #2

11/3/2014

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It's over now; she's gone.
Resting and not hurting.
Not scared and not sad.
Her body done betraying,
Done wearing away.

All hope dashed for
Mom, Dad, brother, husband,
loved ones.
But she's at peace.
She wanted to go on,
but not to be.
She gently slept away.

We would all wish her back
But not at the price she would pay.
We'd want her to laugh and run and sing and be full of the joy of being.

So we'll take small comfort
In her easy passing, her pain and suffering
softly exhaled.
The hole in our hearts not of her choosing.

Always careful to put at ease,
to make welcome.
To express her love at the leaving.

We celebrated her two weeks ago.
She invited us in, to her open arms.
Frail hugs & murmurs of love.
She gave us all that moment, that memory to cherish.
I thought it was about her;
But it was about us.
Giving & leaving us a small measure of comfort.
Sharing what she could.
What she had left.
Her beautiful soul.

READ "LeAnn #1" HERE

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LeAnn #1

11/2/2014

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Sitting at the bar, dimly lit and cozy. We’re looking in the songbooks and choosing our favorites and waiting for her to arrive. This has become a familiar, homey sort of outing wherever we go. On vacation at the beach, visiting family, or around the neighborhood. She walks in: tall, tan, lovely in her own way with honey-brown hair swinging. (That beautiful, shiny hair.) She commands admiring attention from strangers and hugs and affection from us.

Many thoughts in my mind. I met her when she was a few months old. A cute baby and holdable.  Her family lived a few hours away, so months, and sometimes years, would pass before we saw each other. She loved her mama and eventually her little brother, but I always thought of her as a daddy’s girl. Not with the, sometimes, negative connotation, she just loved him and loved to do the things he enjoyed. Fishing at a young age-I can imagine her in overalls and little boots asking dad to bait the hook, or more likely shouting with glee, “Look daddy, I baited my own hook this time.” Probably hunting as young as allowed, in her camo and pink (not orange) safety vest. Because, despite being perfectly at home in the woods or river, she was never a tomboy, always a girly girl in a good way. The whole family developed a love for NASCAR and went to races and watched them on TV. On our visits, she was such a little hostess, offering sodas and snacks, serving them with grown-up aplomb.

Back to reality. We order drinks and discuss old and new happenings, the good and bad of our lives. We turn in our songs and enjoy ourselves as we await our turns at the mic and clap and cheer for each performer. I think back to when we discovered KARAOKE!  She took some persuading, but finally got up to the mic and lost her karaoke virginity. I remember, “guys do it, all the time”, and “I really hate her” and so many more. She was so animated but not stagey or showy. Just joyous and happy, the love of music shining in her eyes. We hosted a couple karaoke Halloween parties over the years. Once she came as a hunter in full camo and once a princess in royal dress. We may have only gotten together 2-3 times a year, but we always found karaoke and shared our lives in that context.  

Time passed with a quickness, and we attended her high school graduation party. Always fun, laughing, funny and just so appealing. I’m sure she had boyfriends I never knew and so many good and bad experiences gone through.  Wish I could’ve known some and been able to laugh and cry with her. She went to university, and we saw even less of each other. Another graduation and party and a good job with a state government official while bar tending at a local. So versatile, fitting in with her job and the bar patrons and treated with respect at both venues. She had an IMPORTANT boyfriend by that time and would share a few of the usual problems inherent in a relationship. Suggestions and a little advice, but we all have to live our own lives, and who among us has perfected love?  

She’s on stage singing strong and empowering (though probably vindictively evil and fun) lyrics! “I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive,” accompanied by shouts of WOO-HOO mostly in women’s voices. Don’t we all wish we had the guts for that at some point in our lives? We’re all feeling good and happy to be together and healthy and alive.

There’s a lull and I do have a wandering mind tonight: Eventually the boyfriend became the fiancée, and the wedding invitations were sent out. They were married outside under a covered bridge in a soft misty sprinkle of rain. I wasn’t there. In the event of rain, we were to meet at the reception hall instead. That’s where we went. So sad to miss the ceremony, but glad they were in such a beautiful setting. They were living life and time flew, problems, rough patches, good times, love, becoming a family. She would come to karaoke when we were around. Visited at weddings and funerals and parties-still so vital and open.

I hadn’t seen her in a year or so, and her mom called, “I have some bad news. She has CANCER.” Oh no! I’ve never been a fan of that particular diagnosis. (Who is?)  Seen too many people lost or left disabled or lives shortened. So she fought and endured her sickening, hair-destroying, life-altering treatments. Suffered and tested and doctored and ran. She ran to strengthen, to raise money for “the cause”, to honor those before her and those after who would make it and who wouldn’t. She became so strong in mind and body and SHE BEAT IT! She became an advocate for breast cancer research and women’s issues. She became a certified fitness boot camp instructor. She became an inspiration to many with her enthusiasm and encouraging words.

We still loved karaoke, still got together when we could, still shared lives-the good, the bad. We got together at a wedding-happy times.  A small blip when she mentioned a few problems she was having. Then a couple months later a reunion. The possibility of multiple sclerosis. Hadn’t she suffered enough in her young life? A month later, at a prestigious clinic, the scan, the diagnoses. Brain cancer, lung cancer.

Mercy, mercy for her.
She’s been through so much and now there’s more.
More fear and pain and strength.
More doctors and more tests.
More worry and more hope.
More people’s prayers and “good thoughts”.
More fighting with despair.
More being strong for others.
More being strong for self.
More “refusing to be beaten down” or “let it win”.
More-deep inside-the whisper of the agony of defeat.
More sadness at the thought of mom and daddy losing their little girl-of brother and nephews losing sis and favorite auntie.
This vibrant, loving, giving heart ceasing to beat. This beautiful smile, infectious laugh and sweet voice-only a precious memory.

I know it’s been said all through history: why her, why him, why them, why me. But why can’t it be the thoughtless, the hurtful, the destroyer of children, the lovers of self to the exclusion of others. The sociopaths with no conscience, the killers, the thieves and the haters. Those whose joy is strife and turmoil and putting all down to elevate themselves. The selfish who bring babies into this world with no care for their tender beings.

Billy Joel said it all-though I wish it weren’t true.

I’m so grateful for those moments in karaoke time: laughing, singing, sharing, care-free happiness!

Now it’s cyber knife and searching for a chemo that will shrink and not seemingly promote the offending tumors. Wigs and hats and bandanas to cover that bare skull. Steroids and swelling and days when taking a step is an effort. We went to see her and now I can think of her sitting at the table, looking out at the garden with flowers and birds, or, on a good day, intent on her laptop. Reminiscing about that perfect shot-the huge taxidermied turkey a memento of happy hunting trips with daddy.

It’s not the end of her story. I hope I never see that! I want her to be laughing and loving and making her world a better place long after my ashes have been scattered and parceled out to loved ones.  

I’ve heard so many elderly people’s advice, “Don’t ever get old!” I hope she gets old and wrinkled and white-haired and hard of hearing and full of the memories and songs of life.  

READ "LeAnn #2" HERE

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Birthday Surprise!

10/29/2014

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A milestone birthday. One I couldn't even imagine as a child; teenager; young woman; mother; grandmother. My mom, 2 grandfathers and a grandmother didn't make it this far.

Planned: Dinner out with one daughter and a home cooked dinner with the other. A birthday box from out-of-state son. (assumption)

Time for the birthday eve dinner with my daughter and grandson. A little b.d. shopping at Cato and then a hunt for the "new vegetarian restaurant" nearby. Driving out of town and enjoying the turning leaves, bare trees and green pines. Strange place for any restaurant. Then we saw a sign and pulled into the driveway. Seemed deserted-no answer at 2 side doors; no cars; no people. I was beckoned to come around back and we entered the unlocked back door. Still seemed deserted; took a split-second before I saw the streamers, balloons, people (my people) smiling and surprising and delighting me with their presence for the whole weekend in a lovely guesthouse!

The boys from Brooklyn, the girls and their (and my) loved ones. Family working and planning for months! A comprehensive menu hanging on the fridge (not frog/gotta love spell check), food supplies in cupboards, activity plans, physical gifts and the supreme gifts of time, thoughtfulness, caring and love.

Such a wonderful milestone celebration! (scary Milton backstory for another time) So grateful for these babies become children, become adults, become friends of my heart.

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When Tears Are In Your Eyes...

10/22/2014

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7 A.M.

Sitting, listening, tears streaming.

I received a lovely box in the mail yesterday from my Brooklyn boys. Among the gift items was a CD/DVD of Simon & Garfunkel (one of my very favorites!). I decided to let it keep Milton and me company this morning.

It takes me back to Easter Sunday, March 29, 1970. I'm three months pregnant and staying with my parents on the farm. My husband of 10 months is in basic training outside of Chicago. I work at the hospital in a small city, about 10 miles away. There are no cell phones and we only get three TV stations - a few radio stations. I'm off work and enjoying my holiday with family. A call goes out in the night for all hospital staff to come help. I'm unaware and can't respond. The next morning, we learn that there was a terrible fire in town and five volunteer firemen are dead, 27 people injured with 12 admitted to the small hospital. Even in New York, Chicago, L.A., Paris, or any huge city you can think of, this would be front page news. Imagine a population of 8,000. Everyone in the town and surrounding area is either friend or relative, relative of a friend, friend of a relative, works with, goes to church with, or had their life/home saved by one of these killed.

Within the next few days, the fallen were to be eulogized, farewells given and put to rest. Several of the injured remained in the hospital. It was planned to have the audio broadcast on the public address system at the hospital. My mom was working that day and I came in for the 3-11 shift. I was able to ignore the service in the guise of busyness (Didn't want to cry at work!) Until the song. S & G in their pure, melodic harmonies singing, "Bridge Over Troubled Water".

I expounded a bit about the power of music to vividly refresh a moment in time in my post 'The Song Remembering When'. Thus the tears streaming at 7 A.M. I'm back there, back then, trying not to cry, not succeeding, feeling the anguish, feeling the sorrow of the above mentioned people, feeling my own sadness at the loss of so many, so young, so dedicated, from all walks of life, brought together in death by their mutual commitment to life.

I'll never forget. No one should.

*David Lee Rotten Note: Check out the amazing Simon & Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water performance that I was lucky to see LIVE at the 25th ANNIVERSARY ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAME CONCERT- Madison Square Garden, NYC - October 29&30, 2009

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A Line in the Sky

10/14/2014

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I love to see the jet streams high over my home. Sometimes I can count 6 or 7 at once. I don't think about the people inside or where they're going or why. I just enjoy the beauty of the white streams against the sky blue and the glinting silver of the plane in the sunshine.

When I was thirteen, our family reunion was held near an airstrip and dad's cousin had a small plane. I flew for the first time. So exciting; I loved it, though slightly motion sick. (my lifelong problem)

1970 was my first commercial flight; Pittsburgh to Key West. I've taken many flights since. Pennsylvania to California, California to Pennsylvania, Ohio to New Mexico; Alaska; Florida many times; Hawaii; Aruba; Tennessee; New York City. I so enjoy the destinations, but not the flight. Always vaguely sick, slightly nervous, cramped, uncomfortable and happy to land! It's the means to an end, necessary evil, time saver.

So, I fly when I need to see beautiful beaches, majestic mountains, desert landscapes, tropical islands, snowscapes, 'other worlds'.

Guess I'll keep looking up, admiring the sight, and be grateful for the ride.

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SNOW!

Working Girl Blues

Fall

Do Not Go Gentle...

HOW DID WE GET HERE FROM THERE?

LeAnn #2

LeAnn #1

Birthday Surprise!

When Tears Are In Your Eyes...

A Line in the Sky

Kathy Brooks aka
Mama Lee Rotten

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Kathy Brooks akaMama Lee Rotten

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Kathy Brooks aka
Mama Lee Rotten