Jonathon's Closet

Wow!

2009-03-09T08:45:00.000-07:00

I can't believe how fast time goes.

Well, sometimes.

Slow sometimes too, like today, sitting in ISS (in school suspension, for being late this morning. Man this sucks)

I agreed to do the art show again this year. Now I guess I need to come up with something really creative. Great.

Mom's crazy busy. She's working 2 jobs and is back in school more-than-full-time too. I'm hoping to get a job at Wendy's in April when I turn 16.

Next month is organ donor month. I'll need to figure out if I have time to participate this year.

School's busy. Hey, I almost forgot! We won regionals at the Science Olympiad again this year! How cool is that?

Funny how I always miss him this time of year. I'm not even sure why, I just know I do. That sucks too.

~Jonathon

2009-01-30T12:48:00.000-08:00

You don't get to choose how you're going to die.

Or when.

You can decide how you're going to live now.

~Joan Baez

Conversation with a Teenager

2008-09-09T12:29:00.001-07:00

(Am I old enough to have a teenager?)

I knew this day was coming. I just knew it. And yet here I sit, totally unprepared. In shock, if you will.

“Mom, how old was Dad when he started dating?”

Oh no. Please don't ask me one of THOSE questions. One of THOSE questions that really do belong to Dad. Nearly 10 years after his death, THOSE questions can still be difficult.

“I have no idea, Jona – I met your Dad in college”

“Well, how old were you when you started dating?”

Silence. Not sure I want to answer this. Wait! I know! I’ll try this:

“And why do you want to know?”

Uh-oh. Silence in return. Hmmm. Badly played. But then:

“I want to ask Kelsey to the Homecoming Dance”

Wow. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. Loudly.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Jona?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes Jona”

“And?”

Really? I am gripped by panic. There’s no way we can afford the Homecoming Dance. But I hear myself saying:

“I’m sure we can figure something out”

Silence. And then:

“I love you Mom”

“I love you too Jona”

Still sitting here. In shock. In silence.

Still not old enough to have a teenager.

Certainly not one who dates.

Right?

Not educable? Huh.

2008-08-21T07:27:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I'm loving it.

My previous blog entry was also shared on my other web-page, on a site where I facilitate a support group for widows. The site serves hundreds of thousands of people and of course, like everywhere, widows are in the extreme minority.

One responder chose to believe that my post "indicates that I'm clearly consumed by my recent loss" ... yeah, you're a dolt. Whatever. Uh, no. I'm no where near consumed by my loss and it most certainly wasn't recent. I'm not even writing about ME actually - just a huge generalization based on what every single widow that I work with both on-line and in real-life groups shares. And really, if you read ANY of my previous writings, you'd know this. This brainiac then went on to encourage me to give my pain over to God. Well isn't that special. Can you see it? She was practically screaming that she is one of the ignorant and ill-informed that I was talking about. Niiiice. And of course, don't allow yourself to be educated. Nope. Never. Just assume that the problem is someone else's, because after all, it couldn't possibly be YOU. Whatever. (and when I tossed this back at her - basically what I've stated right here - she turned tail and ran. Bwaaahaaaahaaaaaaaaaa!)

She was an annoyance. Nothing more. Just one more fool wanting to show the world how bright she is by waving her stupidity like a banner. Yeah, that ought to work.

What really got to me were a couple of responses from "friends" of mine. Couldn't possibly express how totally disappointed in them that I am - there just aren't words. This kind of lack of comprehension of the issue - after several years of "friendship"? It's simply offensive. And this lack of comprehension consistently accompanied by the cry "I can't understand, I haven't been there". They deserve credit for one thing - they're right, they can't understand the depth of the pain. But ya know, that's not what they're being asked to understand. They're being asked to understand that all of the things in the post below are hurtful, offensive, and inappropriate. You don't have to be there to be able to be educated.

And of course the fact remains that there was nothing offensive in what I said - unless, of course, YOU saw YOU in my words. If YOU realized it was YOU I was referring to. When I held up the mirror, did YOU see YOU?

It's an educational process. And one where far too many people are too busy living in denial of the fact that they need to be educated. And those that deny it the most? They're only proving that they need it the most.

Now I was far from disappointed in the overall outcome. Many great women spoke up. Many shared honest thoughts like "I didn't realize" and "I'm going to keep this so that I won't make these mistakes". These are wonderful women who are secure enough with who they are to do a little self-examination and realize that yep - they tend to be like a lot of our society, and they're not particularly good at dealing with these issues. And here's an important part of this: they showed that they're willing to be educated, capable of learning, and wanting to try. To them, I send my deepest of thanks.

My e-mail was over-run with great folks sharing personal experiences (my FIL just died, how can I best help my MIL? ... an acquaintance's husband died, help me NOT to handle it badly ... my son's teacher's husband died over the summer - do I address it or not?). Every one of these people wants to do what's right. How wonderful - and how refreshing!

And then there were "my" girls. The widows from my group, many who watched this post evolve. Many who were back in my group and in my e-mail; upset, irritated, hurt, angry. They were, and rightfully so, offended at some of the blatant indifference they saw. Offended at some of the obvious condescension. And offended at the total ignorance that some were so blatantly displaying.

It's difficult to find your voice - your strength to advocate for what is right - while in the depths of grief. It's difficult to find any strength at all during the early stages of bereavement, and even later as you go forward in parenting alone. There's not a lot of energy left over even then! But "my" girls - many of them found their voices. Many of them spoke out. Many of them decided that it was time to stop sharing these frustrations only behind closed doors. Many of them decided that it was time to stop allowing society to treat widows with indifference and disrespect. These strong women have my admiration.

Will it all change today? No, of course not. But my work didn't begin today. It began many years ago.

Is the problem solved? Absolutely not. But that's ok. I'm a long way from done. My advocacy will continue.

In case you didn't realize: THERE IS A REASON

2008-08-19T15:21:00.000-07:00

There is a reason that widows tend to isolate. There is a reason that widows end up isolated. There is a reason that widows are generally destined to a more solitary life than they would have otherwise enjoyed.

Do you want to know what that reason is? That reason is YOU.

Yes, I said YOU.

YOU, the one who is uncomfortable with death and will quickly duck the other way in the grocery store, because YOU don't know what to say. After all, it's all about YOU, right? and YOU just couldn't handle that moment of discomfort - which really is absolutely nothing but the blink of an eye lost in all of time in comparison to what the widow feels every moment of every day.

YOU, who is selfishly unaware that no, the widow really can't be driving the carpool right now, and yes YOU should be stepping up to fill the gap for her but of course YOU won't, because YOU might be inconvenienced by that one small thing that YOU could do to make someone else's life easier during their time of need.

YOU, who prefers not to realize that the loss of a spouse impacts a person's life FOREVER and who acts as if there is a time limit on grieving.

YOU, the one who comments "I don't know what I'd do" - and just for YOU, I have a special message: "That's right - you don't - you have no idea".

YOU, who tosses the word "widow" around carelessly, lessening it's impact and lowering it's meaning. YOU, who sees the start of football season or the opening weekend of deer hunting as an excuse to cough up inane comparisons such as "football widow" and "hunting widow", which is about as appropriate as it would be if I were to use the word "reetard" to describe any child with a disability.

YOU, who asks "so how long have you been divorced?" when meeting an only parent - and for the record, it's not an enjoyable moment for a widow, having to once again deal with the likes of YOU making that assumption.

YOU, who offers the anecdote of "well, at least you don't have to pick up his dirty socks all the time - I'm ready to kill my husband myself" to the widow.

YOU, who chooses to stay in a bad relationship and constantly complain "I hate my husband" - ya know, if that's true? Get the hell out. Life is too damn short to stay in a bad relationship.

YOU, who has the audacity to suggest to the widow that perhaps a new baby would make her feel better - and hey, while I'm thinking of it, does that mean that YOU are offering up YOUR husband for stud? After all, common sense would tell ya that a widow doesn't really have the means at hand to manage to get knocked up. (oh, and by the way - no thanks - I doubt he's much of a catch)

YOU, who abandons your widowed "friend" each and every time you realize that someday YOU likely will be faced with many of these same issues, when that thought frightens YOU, when it just becomes too much to handle, when YOU feel this eminently.

YOU, the one who chooses to weakly and lamely attempt to compare grief and loss, and refuses to be educated, to research, to learn and grow and realize that no other loss, no matter how very painful and how very sad, can be compared to a loss that impacts the family in so many ways as the death of a spouse.

YOU, who 'offers' your religious upbringing as the cure for grief, who shares your opionions on "why" and spews nonsense about "reasons" instead of offering support or friendship. YOU, who offers platitudes and pushes YOUR agenda, instead of offering help.

YOU, the one who chooses to bitch and whine over the color of napkins at a school dance, and about other things of no importance whatsoever in the greater scheme of life. Yes, the greater scheme - because there really IS something out there that is more significant than YOU.

YOU, the one who chooses to complain that someone annoyed you (and then complain about this same person again and again and again) instead of learning to accept that person, to shrug off their eccentricities, to take them with a grain of salt, to accept them for who they are and still find ways to be grateful for their presence in your life.

And there are a LOT more of YOU out there. So many versions of YOU that it would take all night to identify all of YOU. But frankly, YOU exhaust me. And I won't allow YOU any more of my time this evening - because contrary to popular belief? IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU.

just a note:

if you see yourself in the above, do something about it. change it. learn. grow. expand your world. become a better person. and know that you are not alone - sadly, you are in the majority.

if you don't see yourself in the above, give yourself a hug. know that you are an exceptional person. when the opportunity presents, encourage others to reach out as well.

Sunshine on a dark night

2008-08-05T06:10:00.000-07:00

2 a.m.

He wakes in a cold sweat. Shaking like a leaf. Clearly unsettled.

Unsettled. A place we've spent a lot of time in recent weeks. Make that months.

2:10

I am the bear. The teddy bear. The security blanket.

It's clear that I'm the lifeline. And he's holding on tight.

2:25

Sing for me. Baby, please. It's your voice I need.

Do WHAT? uhhh......

My mind goes blank. But only for a moment. And the words just come:

The other night dear
As I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear
I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried.

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You'll never know dear
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

So let the sun shine in
Face it with a grin
Smilers never loose
And Frowners never win
So let the sun shine in
Face it with a grin
Open up your heart and let the sun shine in

My daddy told me something
That little girls should know
It's all about the devil
And I've learned to hate him so
I know he'll be unhappy
Cause I'll never wear a frown
And if we keep on smiling
He'll get tired of hangin' round

So let the sun shine in
Face it with a grin
Smilers never loose
And Frowners never win
So let the sun shine in
Face it with a grin
Open up your heart and let the sun shine in

Words my father used to sing to me when I was a small child.

In my voice, he found his comfort.

In these words, I found mine.

celebrating our differences

2008-07-24T14:23:00.000-07:00

One of the things that I so love about my group of friends is the beautiful diversity that exists among us. I know of several different belief systems in this group.

What would happen if someone who has a belief system contrary to mine wished me well, offered support or tried to comfort my sorrows with words that have little or no meaning for me? How can one ever fault a person for this? Kindness, support, friendship, well-wishes - when offered in earnest? I embrace and accept it all - to do otherwise just isn't acceptable to me.

I appreciate each and every one of the my friends. I find their differences to be inspiring, interesting, educational, exquisite. Everyone has something to add. Every color makes my rainbow brighter. Every perspective opens my mind to the world just a little bit more. Every belief has value. And every belief is welcomed into my life.

I encourage each and every one of you to please remember the spirit of the words. Perhaps the words offered by someone you encounter today don't match your own personal spiritual journey. That's ok. But the person offering the words? They matter very much. And that they took the time to tell you ... to remind you ... to let you know that you are important ... that your feelings matter ... that you are valued ... supported ... loved ...

They may show those feelings with different words that you might choose - but what matters is the expression of those feelings. Enjoy the diversity ... embrace our differences ... there is tremendous beauty to be found here.

Gas costs what??? LOL!

2008-07-07T05:14:00.000-07:00

You'd think that current gas prices would make me absolutely dread my 35 minute drive to and from campus every day. Only stands to reason, right? Well apparently I lack reason - I AM LOVING IT! No, not the cost of it of course - but the quiet time, the solitude, and well ... convertible + sunshine + music = recharging my batteries! Now that is my kind of math!

School's going well - a bit on the busy side and certainly frustrating at times, but all is well. I'm working out 4 days a week in the fitness facilities on campus, so hopefully I'll recoup some of my stamina soon ('cause ya know, it sure gets frustrating to feel like an old woman all the time!)

It's been so "in my face" lately - life as an only parent. Same old frustrations. Being the only parent on-deck simply wears thin at times. But we're hanging in ... and Jona seems to be recovering his sense of humor: my recent meds make my hair fall out and now that it's coming in again, it seems to no longer be blonde - oh boy, is THAT an understatement - ummm ... it's coming in sort of a salt&pepper gray, really quite dark. Jona's solution? To toss me a bottle of - get this - platinum blonde haircolor and suggest that I "do something - because not only do (you) look like a guy, it's kinda scary Mom!"

sigh

Such a sweet child.

Been a long time!

2008-06-29T06:30:00.001-07:00

Seems like my Mom and I don't get here very often right now. Everything is just so busy.

She's gone back to school for ANOTHER degree and is spending most of her time buried under a pile of homework. Haha! She's got HOMEWORK! Kind of funny - she's got homework in the summer and I can just sit back and relax!

She did do something to celebrate my birthday after all. We went out and she bought me a new pair of jeans, and then took me to lunch at my favorite place (it's an all you can eat buffet). It was a good surprise.

I was hoping to get a real job this summer, but I haven't found one yet. I've been doing yardwork for some people and also spending a lot of time at drumline practices.

~Jonathon

Thoughts on adversity

2008-06-23T14:09:00.001-07:00

Have you ever sat on a beach building a sand castle, trying to keep the waves from attacking your creation? As each wave comes, it washes away a part of the structure. Nothing you could do would prevent this. And each time that same wave smoothes out the rough edges.

If that isn’t a metaphor for life, I don’t know what is.

When I think about the enormously tough roads I’ve traveled, I realize that it was during those times when I got better...when I grew. The tough times – they’re never over – they change and evolve, as we do, but these struggles are what balance us and make us stronger. They bring us out even more clear and more centered.

Adversity can be like the waves of the ocean. It can smooth out our rough edges and make us more beautiful - if we accept that change- and we can welcome the challenge of new growth into our lives.

Or we can continually attempt to remain cloaked in a blanket of happy thoughts, refusing to go near the water’s edge. And in so choosing, we will remain unchanged. To gain that enhancement- that wonderful new growth- you must embrace the tough times.

If you don’t embrace the changing seasons of your own world, you will lose out.

Empty: without appropriate or accustomed contents

2008-05-14T12:22:00.000-07:00

Stop looking.
You won’t find yourself there.
You aren’t really lost.
Reach into the darkness with one hand
and take hold of the other.
There you are,
drowning in your own thoughts.

The wounds healed years ago.
And yet haven’t healed at all.
You can’t lie to yourself.
Teaching yourself never to cry is not an accomplishment.
Punishing yourself with neglect is not a demonstration of discipline.
Hating yourself is not the same thing as humility.
Destruction is not a virtue.

Strive for serenity.
Aim for making a difference.
Work toward true goodness.
This is not about loss.
This is about acceptance.
Acceptance without complacency.
And it is up to you
to fill your empty heart.

Not tired enough, I guess ...

2008-04-29T11:08:00.001-07:00

Ok, so I'm the one who said that I'm tired of teaching "this lesson" - the lesson of life after the death of a parent. But I guess it's possible that I'm not quite tired enough ...

I signed up for "Voices" ... yes, I'll be reading my poem aloud in the high school auditorium.

Every time I get tired of teaching this lesson, I remember how important it is to teach ...

~Jonathon

About the art thing ...

2008-04-24T10:45:00.001-07:00

There's a RECEPTION ... with the mayor and the governor and other local dignitaries. And the artists have to be there, and dress up, and be able to discuss their work with anyone who asks.

Great. If I'd have known that I had to dress up and make nice, I wouldn't have signed up - I've got a TON of other things to do with my time. It's not that it's not important - for people to learn about grief issues, that is. It IS important. I guess I'm just getting tired of teaching this lesson.

Tomorrow is my Mom's birthday. I haven't figured out what I'm going to do for that either. It sucks, it really does. She hasn't really had a birthday since my Dad died, I don't think. But it's not like I can do much about it.

Tomorrow my Mom will turn the same age that my Dad was when he died. What a weird thought. Sorta unsettling.

My birthday is Monday. I've been a real jerk lately, a total pain in the (butt). Yeah, I edited myself ... I'm already on restriction for "inappropriate language", so I figured I don't need her reading it here... Anyway, Monday is my birthday, and I doubt we're going to do anything special for that either. After all, I wouldn't want to do anything special for someone who's been a real jerk either.

It's not going to be a great couple of weeks.

~Jonathon

Every once in a while, he surprises me ...

2008-04-23T08:14:00.000-07:00

Jona has decided to participate in a local art show!

I must admit, I was more than a bit surprised. This is the kid who claims that he can't draw anything! But the opportunity came to submit a piece of art into the local IMPACT art show, highlighting children's mental health challenges, and Jona choose to create a painting.

Jona hasn't painted in years! I have a few of his old grade school paintings, framed and hanging in my office. But since the 5th grade, he's opted out of this sort of thing.

At the first art workshop, he seemed to be intimidated by his surroundings. Can't be easy being the "new guy" in an after-school art program, and having all the other kids know their way around the art studio! But at the second workshop, he fit right in and really got into creating a painting of a tree ... a bleak, stark, leaf-less, black tree against a mottled gray and ice blue background. And then he took the beginning 7 stanzas of his old poem (the VERY FIRST post on this blog!), tore them out, and added them to his work.

I'll post pics after the show (May 3rd thru 9th)

It's quite simple, very rustic ... but awfully effective! Most definately a piece that evokes an emotional reaction.

And, when asked to explain his work, Jona simply stated: This is what life looks like, after your Dad dies ...

ROTF!!!!!!!!

2008-04-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

ok, so I just drove past the local Home Depot, right? And a pick-up truck was pulling in . Nothing unusual.

Until I read the side of the truck, advertising a business:

LAID RIGHT

Let a Good Man do the job!

Laid Right Flooring, Lansing, MI

yeah, ya all know I blew coke out my nose, right???

YOU can save a life!

2008-04-14T09:48:00.000-07:00

April is National Donate Life Month, a time to raise public awareness of the critical need for organ, tissue, marrow, and blood donation. ... Over the years, many participating organizations and individuals found it restrictive to limit special donation awareness efforts to one week in April-especially as the week often conflicted with other observances such as National Volunteer Week, or at times, with Passover or Holy Week. The change to a month-long observance of 'National Donate Life Month' underscores the importance of donation of not only organs and tissues, but also marrow and blood.

The goal is to "raise public awareness of the critical need." The need for...

In recent years, the science of organ transplantation has made great strides. Unfortunately, the process of securing and allocating organs has not matched this progress. There still is a critical shortage of organs. Here are some statistics: * The number of people waiting to receive an organ transplant in the United States is rising. There are now more than 82,000 people on the national organ transplantation waiting list. * Each day, 63 people receive an organ transplant, but another 16 people on the waiting list die because organs aren't available.

Every day, people on the waiting list die because organs aren't available.
There are two essential steps to saving lives through organ donation:
1. SHARE YOUR LIFE. Decide to be a donor.Transplants provide hope for thousands of people with organ failure. In addition, hundreds of thousands more can be helped with tissue transplants. Unfortunately, the need for donors is much greater than the actual number of donors. Your commitment to organ and tissue donation can save lives.

2. SHARE YOUR DECISION. Tell your family. The most important part of deciding to be a donor is telling your family. Talking about donation doesn't mean talking about death. It is talking about the opportunity to give another person a second chance at life...

One day at a time ...

2008-04-10T12:34:00.001-07:00

Being laid up certainly can give one a LOT of time to reflect ... especially once one has managed to have the flow to the brain restored!

A plan is coming together ... slowly, one step at a time ... a plan for the future ... and, for the first time in many many months, it actually seems do-able!

Wow - April already?

2008-04-04T10:21:00.000-07:00

These last few months have passed me by. As I felt more exhausted and more ill, I slowly began to hibernate as much as possible. And now it seems as I've missed a considerable amount of time.

Jona, of course, was a typical teen during this time. He went back and forth between attempting to help (perhaps 25% of the time) and mastering the art of taking advantage of the fact that Mom was down for the count (sadly, the remaining 75% of the time). I'm really quite frustrated by the choices he's been making, but we're working on it. At least his grades are solid (4.0 on a 4-point scale) and his attitude at school is good.

It's really quite unimaginable, the situation that arises when an only parent becomes life-threateningly ill. We've dealt with common everyday illnesses in the years since Don's , but to be faced with an emergency hospitalization and all of the unknowns that come into play in a situation like this is really quite surreal.

Attempting to make arrangements for Jona to stay with a friend and ride a different bus and all of those odd details that need to be attended to ... while on oxygen, getting various fluids in various IV's, on major painkillers, barely able to breathe let alone to think or talk, and having my vitals taken by hospital staff every 15 minutes ... well, it's an experience I really would rather not repeat.

And Jona's post traumatic flash-back reaction to my hospitalization certainly didn't help matters any! Luckily for me, midway thru my 9-day hospital stay I encountered a wonderful social worker who actually appeared to have some level of understanding of what a widow and only parent faces when hospitalized ... and she pulled a few strings to get me a private room with a cot, so Jona could stay whenever he wanted.

We'll be trying to get Jona back on a level course - I'm certain it will take a while, he's really quite emotional right now. And I'm continuing to work towards recovery - well, as much "recovery" as is possible. Hoping to gain a bit more strength soon.

And of course, we're looking forward to the State Finals for Science Olympiad later this month!

looks like improvement to me!

2008-03-26T11:19:00.000-07:00

Well, Mom's home ... and starting to look a bit better as well. She's not ghost-white anymore, and she seems to be breathing pretty good. It's a big improvement over how things have been. She can make it up and down the stairs without getting winded and seems to actually have a tiny bit of energy. She says she's taking me to her doctor's appointment on Friday, so I'll be kept up-to-date on what's going on.

Been kinda weird the past week. I'd been complaining to my Mom (well, for a LONG time now, I guess) that I wanted a "real" family. Needless to say, this complaint has NOT gone over real well. So I've spent a little more than a week at my friend Trevor's house, while my Mom was in the hospital. Trevor's "normal/real" house. It was nice, and his folks are really nice too ... but all I could think about was I wanted to be with my Mom. I mean, it is kind of neat to have a Dad in the house, but really I just wanted MY OWN family.

Jonathon

AhhhHa!

2008-03-22T07:45:00.000-07:00

So THAT's why I've been feeling so totally punk lately. Apparently a hemoglobin count of 4 is simply NOT good! No wonder I couldn't bend over without getting very dizzy, walk up the stairs without getting winded, and could barely make it thru the work day. Oh, my!
Now that they've got my hemoglobin count to a 10.6, I'm actually beginning to feel somewhat functional ... and certainly less fuzzy and clouded in my thinking. This is a good thing.
I had some internal bleeding, which is now under control, so hopefully these issues won't arise again any time soon.
Unfortunately, my hospitalization really threw Jona into a MAJOR tailspin, and now we've got some fairly serious repercussions to deal with. I'm not really feeling up to all of this right now, but there's no choice. Well, at least he had his meltdown at home (not at school or his friends home) and his grades have stayed up thru my illness.
He's really such a good kid. But we've got to help him develop some better coping skills for when he feels like he's going on emotional overload.

2008-03-05T08:40:00.002-08:00

2008-03-05T08:40:00.001-08:00

The bad and the good

2008-03-01T13:29:00.001-08:00

Well, Mom's kind of vacant lately ... but if you read her latest post, you realize that. She's got this annoying habit too, of raising her right eyebrow at me when she's pissed off. Doesn't say anything, just raises her right eyebrow and looks at me as if I've lost my mind. Drives me nuts.

Our Science Olympiad team took first place at Regionals! Cool, eh? Personally, I took a first and a second place in my 2 events. If we can be one of the top 4 teams at States, we'll be going to Nationals ... in St. Louis! Really hoping we can pull this off - we've got friends in St. Louis, and I think the trip would do my Mom some good. If I can get her to take a couple of days off work and go, that is.

Changed Spanish teachers at semester break. Now I've got an A in Spanish - I was failing before! It's a huge difference - this teacher actually explains things, and I can understand her! So, I've got ALL A's again.

Anyhow, it's cold and nasty here. At least the sun is shining today. I'm really tired of the winter and looking forward to spring.

Jonathon

Hang on tight, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

2008-02-22T08:33:00.000-08:00

I thought perhaps rock bottom was last year, when I suffered a stroke and was diagnosed with congestive heart failure on top of the fact that my rheumatoid arthritis was heading off the charts.

I was wrong.

I sure as hell hope that RIGHT NOW is rock bottom, because I can't imagine sinking any lower.

I feel like a total fake. I am not getting thru the days, I am simply making it appear as if I am. I work extensively with widows, and my reality is that I am falling apart in a BIG way. And, with the exception of 2 close friends, no one even knows. Sure, there are little hints. But the enormity of the situation? Nope, no one really suspects.

I haven't slept in 4 days. Again.

My stress levels are off the charts.

My ability to cope seems to have disappeared.

If I eat, I throw up. If I don't eat, I get the dry heaves. Pleasant, eh?

I am taking painkillers like candy. And they don't even take the edge off.

I am the person that so many turn to for support. And they don't know that I am falling apart.

My breathing is rapid and uneven. My heart rate tends to race off the charts. I am cold at all times, even when wrapped in an electric blanket. And I cry at nothing, and almost constantly.

I go to work, come home, lie in bed, then get up and do it again. Every once in a while, I manage to make it to the public library to make my lame attempts at human contact.

I have developed NO TOLERANCE for those who are judgmental of others (not that I ever had much tolerance for them in the first place).

To put it simply, I am broken.

Possibly beyond repair.

I have always felt that I had an internal locus of control - that is, the belief that one is largely (though not entirely) in control of the things that happen to him/her. I believed that if you worked hard, you would succeed. I believed that if you treated others right, you would, in turn, be treated right. I believed that if you made the best of even the worst of situations, that everything would turn out ok in the end.

But frankly, life has decided to toss me under the damn bus. And I'm just too f-ing tired to get back up.

If you made it all the way thru these ramblings, you deserve a medal. And this post? This is just the tip of the iceberg.

Oh, how I visual pollution ...

2008-02-08T08:18:00.000-08:00

So today I needed to drive. No good reason, just needed it. And even the cold gray day couldn't keep me in.

So, after work this morning, I took off for a drive. And headed to an area that is just chock full of places to go ... which, sadly, means is chock full of signs, reader boards, billboards, and bulletins. Hundreds of 'em.

This assault on my eyes is never welcome. In fact, I consider it to be pollution. It attacks my senses in a way that is simply unacceptable. Except for today.

Today, the signs were different.

Every single one of them.

Instead of advertising the sale items at the grocery store, the prescription special at the store, the roast beef or chicken at the Arby's or the KFC, and whatever financing deal is happening at the local car dealership, every single one of these signs carried a similar message.

Clearly one of our armed forces units came home recently.

And every sign was a welcome home message for a soldier!

"Thank you, Sr. Airman _____"
"Welcome home, Lt. _____"
"Glad to have our troops home safe!"

Every one of them. For a two mile stretch, each and every business participated in this mass-welcoming message!

I do H A T E visual pollution. Really, I do. But today? Today, the signs were welcome.

Cold, gray, dreary

2008-02-04T10:18:00.000-08:00

The weather
My mood
Yep, it describes both of 'em.

Eagerly anticipating Spring. I'm beginning to believe that I can feel myself aging in some very not so pleasant ways! I need to feel the sunshine, listen to the rain, see the rebirth of the seasons.

No, it won't solve all the current problems.

But maybe

-just maybe-

it will give the the lift I need to keep moving forward.

Just stuff

2008-01-28T10:05:00.000-08:00

New semester today. School messed up my schedule (along with several others) at the beginning of the year, so now I have to swap some classes. Bummer.
Science competition Saturday was ok. Only about 1/2 our team attended, which meant a few of us were tossed into events unprepared save for 1 hour of cramming on the bus. Our team scored 12th out of 69 teams in attendance.
Mom's sick. And grumpy.
Jonathon

Overwhelmed ...

2008-01-22T10:49:00.000-08:00

Feeling like I couldn't write a coherent sentence lately if my life depended on it. Stress seems to muddle my brain. It's not a good thing, that's for sure. All of the issues just seem to spin around inside my head endlessly, and it's taking a toll.

With all of this action happening inside my head, you'd think that I might be getting a lot done ... sadly, no. Apparently all of the inner-head activity serves one purpose and that is to leave me exhausted. I'm having trouble accomplishing even the simplest of tasks.

I'm more than a little frustrated with it all, but my head hurts and I'm really too damn tired to attempt to sort it all out.

So little internet time ...

2008-01-18T10:27:00.000-08:00

Well, we've made every possible cut and we're still not really getting by. The nation is worried about a recession? Hell, here in Michigan we've been experiencing a one-state recession for a few years now.

Yep, as Jona mentioned, I'm investigating new possibilities. For many reasons, it's time to make some changes. I do not look forward to the process of making this happen, and am still a long way from figuring out the logistics. But I'm hoping that the outcome will make it all worth it.

Right now we're experiencing a major freeze. High today of 6 degrees. And supposed to get colder yet tomorrow! Brrrrr! It will make a good excuse for staying indoors as much as possible.

It really is difficult not having internet at home. It's a tool we've become very accustomed to. Oh well. Worse things have happened.

Interesting thought ...

2008-01-05T08:08:00.000-08:00

Well, Mom says she's thinking of moving. Selling the house and moving. South. Warmer temperatures. Lower cost of living.

Not sure what I think. Let's see ... higher tuition at U of M (if I ever make it there). New school - NOT a good thing, the schools here are really good. That's the main reason we moved here.

Total new beginning. Might be fun. Might suck.

I guess I'm going to have to wait and see what happens. Mom's real methodical. This won't happen quickly.

The need for "better"

2008-01-02T06:55:00.000-08:00

Last Friday, I was sitting in a room full of widows - one of the support groups I facilitate - when a voice asked...

"WHEN DOES IT GET BETTER?"

The answer that I so desperately wanted give was "soon" ... but that would be a lie.

Last night, I was on the phone with a dear friend - a friend who has lost her father, as I have - when she described how his absence is always with her, and how she wondered when it would get better...

And I too think of my father every day. Usually thoughts of him bring a smile, although on occasion his absence invokes tears.

And this conversation with my friend brought my thoughts back to the voice in the group, pleading for comfort, the plaintive cry so imploringly seeking freedom from pain...

because, for a widow, it isn't just "moments" in which we feel that absence.

It's with every single breath we take...

"WHEN DOES IT GET BETTER?"

And, as I head into the anniversary of Don's death with nearly 9 years of experience, I say

"It doesn't get better - we simply get better at it"

Here's to 2008 ... a year that we will dedicate to the process of getting better! It's all about getting more value out of life, about finding joy in each and every day, about being thankful for what we have, about seeking out the best we can and about making the best of whatever comes our way.

------
And, on another topic: Yep, I've been quite absent. This stems in part to some rather serious health issues, and in part to a lack of internet at home - though it was the luxury I've managed to hold onto the longest, mainly due to Jona's needing it for homework, there is no money in the budget for our on-line connection. We'll be here whenever possible, and thanks to all who inquired.

Just the norm ...

2007-12-17T11:21:00.000-08:00

It is those every day moments; those normal, routine things that can catch us off-guard and send us to tears.

The smell of his pipe tobacco, the scent of his aftershave, a certain song ... anything that was simply a part of our every day lives.

And these things are different from those "major" days when we're missing him. Those "major" days, we tend to brace ourselves for ... we steel ourselves against the rage of emotion that we know is heading in our direction.

These unexpected moments blindside us with no notice whatsoever and take our breath away.

Thoughts on Gratitude

2007-11-19T07:46:00.001-08:00

One of the sweetest feelings we experience is that of gratitude. Offering thanks is as natural to us as breathing; it is one of the most universal and one of the loveliest of human emotions. The human heart needs to give thanks, just as the human mind wants to understand. Expressing gratitude is remembrance of our dependence on others, a confession of our humanity, and a way of recognizing that we do not walk alone.

Thanksgiving gives us the opportunity to fulfill this great longing; the heartfelt need to express appreciation for what we've been given. Maybe that's why people love this holiday so much - there's something so vital, so necessary about it. To imagine a holiday season without Thanksgiving would be like attending a church service without saying a prayer.

Imagine a taste of the day's big feast; a bustling kitchen smelling of roasted turkey, cinnamon-spied pumpkin pies, and other Thanksgiving treats. Hear the voices of loved ones chattering and the sounds of children playing. Indeed, it's a wonderful occasion!

Best of all, though, is Thanksgiving's sentiment - the heartfelt gratitude for all of our blessings. That, even more than the food, family, and friends, is what makes this day really special.

Wishing you a joyous Thanksgiving!

Three Cheers for the official bear count!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-11-15T07:04:00.000-08:00

Although bears are still trickling in, it is time to release our "offical bear count" for The Teddy Bear Project 2007...

(drum roll, please)

19,255

Yes, that's nineteen thousand two hundred and fifty five children that will be helped!

We may be slightly short of goal, but in today's economy, where so many families are struggling, this is a VICTORY!

HUGE THANKS to all who helped make this project a big success!

As Thanksgiving approaches, I must admit ...

2007-11-12T10:56:00.001-08:00

... that there are indeed things I am NOT thankful for!

An example?

I was not thrilled with my son in that moment ...

that moment when tells me that HE HAS INVITED GRANDMA AND AUNT SUE FOR THANKSGIVING...

you know what I'm talking about, the gasket I blow as I inform him that I WASN'T HAVING THANKSGIVING...

LOL! Guess I am NOW!

And I will be thankful for the opportunity to spend time with family.

Now I've just got to figure out how to fund this little get-together ...

Today's Meditation

2007-10-23T12:32:00.001-07:00

Take a deep breath.
Let your seat hold you.
Become aware of your heartbeat.
Center it's warmth.
Feel the presence of the others around you.
Connect to the others.
Connect to your soul's light.
Feel your soul intertwine with others.
We are one.
Let the sun light pour over us.
And soak in.
Like the rain soaks into sand.
Know that there is good in this universe.
Allow the universe to embrace you.
Trust in the universe.
Feel it's warmth.
Breathe deeply and slowly.
Breathe in the strength of the universe

3158 days ... and then, thankfully, a break!

2007-10-11T06:23:00.000-07:00

Jonathon got me thinking. Yep, again! He usually does! He mentioned how many days he had gone without Dad ... and I began to realized EXACTLY why I needed a break SO BADLY!

Imagine doing EVERYTHING that you usually do, combined with EVERYTHING that your husband does, every single day for 3158 days.

Now add to that the complications that the death of a husband and a father brings: add a grieving child, the unending assistance that the grieving child needs, the nightmares and night terrors, the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the insecurity, the fear that lives deep inside a child who’s watched one parent die and fully realizes that the remaining parent could die as well … and don’t forget to add your own pain, and dealing with the endless red tape, endless bureaucracies …

Toss in a major loss in income, which equals a tremendous change in lifestyle – no, not those small changes that we’re all capable of making: the difference between 6 figures and not being able to keep the electric bill paid, the difference between having to wait til payday to buy school supplies and having to move the child to a new school district, the difference between “guess I can’t afford steak this week” and “guess I can’t afford groceries this week”.

Think about it :

doing every job that needs to be done, inside and out.

making every decision, large and small.

making every purchase, large and small.

earning every dollar, providing for all needs.

being the sole disciplinarian, for each and every issue that arises.

doing every bit of the driving.

taking care of every cold, flu, scraped knee, and medical emergency.

attending each and every school function, sporting event, scout event, etc.

Do it all alone.

All of it.

No one to share any of it.

No one to talk to.

No one to bounce ideas off of.

No one offering support.

As the 14 year old child pointed out earlier, not even a phone call or an e-mail or a postcard.

Nothing.

You earn all the money, you pay all the bills, you do all the shopping, you wash the car, you mow the lawn, you make the lunches, you run to the store if something is needed even when you are ill because after all, there’s no one there but you. You cook every meal, you wash every dish, you drive to every single place, you take out the trash, you pull the weeds, you get the oil changed, you fix the door when it breaks because after all, everyone is depending on you.

And even when you can delegate some of these responsibilities to a child who already carries more responsibility than a child should, YOU are still the one who is responsible for making sure all of these tasks are done.

You’re an ONLY parent… there’s no one else to depend on. Ever.

And right about now, MAYBE 1/10th of you are seeing a mere 1/100th of the total picture.

And if you comprehend 1/100th of that picture, you will understand how totally amazingly wonderful the gift I’m going to tell you about truly was …

Her calm steady voice had been my life preserver for a few months already. It took all of my strength not to simply collapse into her arms sobbing at the end of the 9 hour drive.

As we sat in the living room, the phone rang … and I didn’t have to answer it.

When dinner time approached, she suggested a dinner plan … and I didn’t have to do it.

When we left for dinner, she drove … and I was allowed to just be the passenger.

For the first time in nearly nine years, I was not responsible for every damn thing.

A meal could be had, and it wasn’t solely my responsibility.

A phone could be answered, and it wasn’t solely my responsibility.

An outing could be planned, and it wasn’t solely my responsibility.

Within 3 days, I was able to keep food down … for the first time in many many months.

Within 5 days, my constantly throbbing headache had subsided.

Sure, all of my responsibilities still existed. Sure, my health issues were still with me.

Sure, it was only a temporary reprieve. (Do each of you realize that you actually get a reprieve, each time he takes out the trash? Or puts gas in the car? Or brings home a paycheck? Or sends child support? Or takes the kids for an hour? Or for a weekend?)

But for the first time in nearly nine years, I began to feel like I could breathe.

Unequivocally the best gift ever.

Big Hugs, Penny … you’re the best!

3,199

2007-09-23T09:56:00.000-07:00

Days.

A fact that was pointed out to me this morning, by a 14 year old child.

Three thousand, one hundred and ninety-nine.

He tearfully shared.

Three thousand, one hundred and ninety-nine.

Days without his hugs.

Without phone calls.

Without e-mails.

Without hearing his voice.

Without having him to talk to.

Three thousand, one hundred and ninety-nine days.

Without.

And with the knowledge that this will never change.

She only had to ask ...

2007-09-04T10:47:00.000-07:00

Oh, he danced around and was more animated than I ever could have imagined he'd be; My 14-year-old young man, in a lifesized Teddy Bear costume!

And when asked "what did your Mom have to promise you to get you to agree to be stuffed into a fur suit?", Jona responded:

"I know how important this project is. I was given a bear by the paramedics on the morning my Dad died. I know how much this means. She only had to ask."

The Teddy Bear Project
... providing Teddy Bears to children affected by domestic abuse and other traumatic events.

Mission: To give symbols of comfort and caring to children experiencing trauma due to violence in the home or an emergency medical situation.

Vision: We know that domestic abuse happens every day. We also know that organizations working with survivors need help. Unity of Greater Lansing is committed to supporting them through The Teddy Bear Project.

YOU CAN HELP!

We are collecting new Teddy Bears, from Beanie Baby size up to 18" long, to give to first responders (police, fire, ambulance, pediatric trauma unit) as well as to domestic violence shelters to distribute to children experiencing trauma.

Our goal is 25,000 bears. Yes, this number is sadly astronomical. Yet this is the number of bears that the agencies involved estimate that they use in ONE YEAR'S TIME. Won't you consider making a difference in the life of a traumatized child and send a bear?

Bears can be sent to:

UNITY OF GREATER LANSING
240 Marshall Street
Lansing, MI 48912
attn: Kate

This project is endorsed by:
The Lansing City Council
Lansing Mayor Virg Bernero
State Senator Gretchen Whitmer
Fire Chief Tom Cochran
Police Chief Mark Alley
Bishop David Maswell; Office of Community and Interfaith Initiatives

Sabbath time cradles us & holds us gently until we remember who we are ...

2007-08-28T14:00:00.000-07:00

In our culture where time has become a commodity and remembering who we are is sometimes a challenge, the keeping of a Sabbath time, a time of rest and renewal, may be more important than ever.

It is all too easy to become so overcommitted that every day becomes an experience of "too much." We instinctively resist recognizing our limits and we pretend we have unlimited potential and that we will live forever. Yet in reality we have limited energy and a finite lifespan.

When we are playing "beat the clock," time is our enemy and every second has the potential to become fraught with anxiety. In the daily ticking of the clock we hear our anxiety about both life and death. Even closer to home, our heartbeat signals our aliveness, while the silence between beats reminds us of our mortality. Time is running after us, ready to devour us if we "fall behind." And time is out in front, promising us relief if we can just "catch up" with it. A vital component of human freedom is the ability to say "no" to certain possibilities and say "yes" to others. What most of us really need to say "yes" to more frequently is our own need for solitude and repose. The secret to living successfully in an age of "too much" is the ability to let go and "fall apart creatively."

Most of us instinctively tighten up under stress. The busier it gets, the faster we go; the more there is to do, the more we try to do, all the while feeling overwhelmed and fearful we'll "fall apart" under the strain. Falling apart is OK - if done creatively! Falling apart creatively means learning to let go earlier and more often instead of waiting until we feel resentful or collapse and get sick. And yet, whey you’re the ONLY adult on-deck, so to speak, letting go doesn’t come easily. When you’ve been solely responsible for every single decision and every single detail for 8+ years, letting go doesn’t come easily.

I recently had the opportunity to breathe out the responsibilities and the stress of day-to-day living and simply let go. Something that was far too long overdue. I’m not sure if I was able to redirect my stress reaction (from tightening to letting go) early enough to avoid the physiological damage that can come from prolonged and excessive stress. But I do know that after 3 days of renewal time I was once again able to eat without becoming ill, and after 5 days my constant headache had faded quietly into the background. Afterwards, with my batteries partially recharged, I have found the ability to return to the tasks at hand with renewed vigor and alertness.

And plans are already underway for next year’s relaxation time; visions of a Lake Michigan beach already dance in my head! If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can feel the sun warming my body and hear the waves gently washing against the shoreline…

Taking time to honor the inner life of the soul has always been important, but never has it been more important than in today’s non-stop society. The ancient advice to "honor the Sabbath and keep it holy" reminds us to respect our need for a "day of rest" -- a time of repose and reconnection.Can you feel the wind shift, hear the rustling the grass? To everything a season; a time for peace. Today is a time for peace.

Why not take the poet Walt Whitman's advice to "loaf and invite your soul"?

Be kind to little old ladies; you'll be one yourself one day!

2007-07-31T19:28:00.000-07:00

I was needing my fix. There was no denying it. I had to have it. So I got in the car and headed off with the intent to cure what ails me.

I drove directly to the Speedway station that has the great big 32 oz frozen drinks, on sale all month for only 79cents. Yep, that ought to do it. 32 ounces of frozen coke, my daily caffiene fix. Breathing a sigh of relief. Now I'll function.

There's a Dairy Queen attached to the Speedway - one that used to only serve ice cream. But they've added a full menu now, and in celebration they are giving away free chili dogs today. Ok, a chili dog. But the big guy behind the counter booms out "You're a tiny little thing - you need 2!" and despite my protest, 2 chili dogs land in the cardboard tray. I can't eat 2 chili dogs. Jona's not home. What am I supposed to do with 2 chili dogs? I thank him and leave.

As I pull out of the Speedway, some dude on a construction crew lets out a whistle. Ok, reality check. I'm 40, honey - we all know it's the car that caught your eye and not the chick driving it. Silly boy!

I head back down Marsh Road, listening to Carly Simon singing "I know nothing stays the same, but if you're willing to play the game, it's coming around again". I've got the top down on my little silver car and the sun is delightfully hot. Hmm... I think I may have needed the sunlight and fresh air as much as I needed the caffiene. This is exquisite.

I spot a tiny little old lady struggling with a grocery bag from the Save-A-Lot and recall seeing her walking toward the store on my way to find caffiene. Now, in the 95 degree heat, she is returning home with her groceries.

I am the child of a law enforcement family. I am the granddaughter of the chief of police. I am the daughter of the county sheriff. A woman alone does not stop to offer a ride to a stranger. Period.

Sorry, Dad!

I pull to the curb, turn the music down and ask her if she's ok. She looks at me cautiously as she wipes the sweat from her forehead and nods. I ask if she lives at the Grange - it's a senior development about 2 miles down the road. Another nod. I ask if she'd like a ride. She looks frightened, but looks like she really wants to say yes. I put the car in park and the hazard lights on. I walk to where she's standing and say "It's just you and I - com'on, it's ok" and take her bag for her.

She grins as she gets into the car and says "I've never ridden in a convertible before". In that moment, I see my Grandma. Now, this lady looks nothing like my Grandma ... not at all ... it's just that those were the exact same words that my own Grandma spoke to 16-year-old me, when I showed up in my "new" 16-year-old Mustang to take her for a ride! The same Grandma who taught me to be nice to old ladies - yeah, Gram, you're right ... I'm fast becoming one!

She introduces herself as Maggie, and giggles when the wind blows thru her hair. Her eyes dance with laughter, and her pleasure is clear. She shares that her son used to come to bring her groceries every month, but he's busy now and even though he lives closeby he just doesn't have time for her anymore.

I take a deep breath, really wanting to get home, and ask if we should drive the loop around the lake. It's no big deal, just a 5-mile jaunt, my old jogging route before I fell ill in January. The look in her eyes is an absolute "yes". I offer her a chili dog, and as we take in the beauty of the blue water, she says "A ride, lunch, and a new friend - and all in one day".

I smile as I drop her off at home. I am blessed. Sunshine, lunch, and a new friend - all in one day.

Little Girls Like Camouflage Backpacks ... who knew?

2007-07-29T20:03:00.000-07:00

Last week, one of the Dads at the grief center asked if I would take his daughter back-to-school shopping. His daughter is 12, and thinks she is quite grown up. And Dad is at a loss as to how to handle a child who really is a child, despite the effort she puts into acting as mother to her two younger brothers. He was unsure of what she needed, and equally unsure of what was appropriate for a 12 year-old girl.

So I picked up Kami, who instantly begged me to put the top on the car down and was practically jumping up and down in excitement when I complied. Her Dad handed me an envelope containing $600 – and asked if I possibly could, would I please bring this shopping trip in under $500? Uh, yeah - no problem, Gary.

I handed Kami a notebook and a pen and told her to write down everything she thinks she needs during the ride to the shopping district. Before we got started we discussed her list, and did a little editing - it’s kind of difficult to get things like “lots of makeup” for a 12-year-old on MY shopping agenda, and I know her Dad agrees!

I gave Kami a $200 budget, knowing I was carrying plenty more should she need it for anything. You should have seen her eyes get wide when I said $200! She asked “do we need to buy things for my brother too, or is ALL of that for ME?” When I answered that today was ALL about her, she jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck, hugging tightly.

Kami was responsible for checking items off the list and also recording how much we spent on each item. We changed the list as we went along, making sure we had covered all necessities. Kami was quickly learning how to search the sale racks and compare one item against another for style, price, and quality.

Here's what we ended up with:

2 “girl cut” T-shirts; 1 pink, 1 yellow $3 ea
2 “baby doll” blouses, floral with cap sleeves; $3 ea
2 Hoodies; 1 baby blue, 1 lavender $5 ea
2 Turtlenecks; 1 white, 1 black $5 ea
2 lightweight V-neck sweaters; 1 lime green, 1 black $7 ea
2 pr. Jeans; 1 light, 1 dark $8 ea
2 pr. Capri pants; $6 ea
2 pr. Cargo pants; 1 olive, 1 khaki $9 ea
2 pr. walking Shorts; $5 ea
1 denim Skirt, with embroidered flowers along the hemline; $11
2 pkgs. Panties; $4 ea
4 training bras; $6 ea
2 pkgs. Socks, $4 ea
1 pr. satin pajamas, $16 – My idea, because sometimes a young lady needs a little indulgence!
1 “stylin” cap, or so I’m told; $3
2 pr. Sunglasses from the dollar store. $2
3 pr. Earrings, 3 Purses, 2 clear lip glosses, 2 Necklaces – from the 10/$10 bin at Claire’s $10
1 Camouflage Backpack, $17
1 pr. pink Sneakers, $11
1 pr. lime green “crocs”, $8
1 pr. white running shoes, $13
1 pr. “high” heels (about a ¾ inch heel!) $7
Grand Total: $240

We did quite a bit of talking while trying on clothes and putting together outfits. One thing that never ceases to surprise me is how I can actually see the shadow come over the face of a child who is talking about a deceased parent. The haunting look that resides in the eyes and creeps out during "thinking of them times" is unmistakable.

Kami was an absolute delight to spend the afternoon with, and was totally thrilled with all of her new purchases. She was especially proud to share her list-keeping and price-recording skills with her father, as well as tell him the story of the 3-store search for a Camo backpack that didn’t break the bank and how we ended up with the “very best one in the entire mall!”

As for Gary? Well, he was thrilled with the "Mom-approved" wardrobe, confided that he really expected us to spend all $600, and he nearly hit the floor when I handed him back almost 2/3 of the money he had planned on spending!

Bits and Pieces

2007-07-23T06:24:00.000-07:00

A while back, in an effort to counteract the effects of rheumatoid arthritis, I decided to take up my old habit of crocheting. I pulled an old shoebox from the closet and began to retrain my hands using bits and pieces from this box of leftovers.

Quickly I realized that I didn’t have enough yarn for a project, and a few of my friends stepped in and offered me their leftovers too! Soon I had a small pile of yarn in all colors, and in varying amounts. I began to crochet all of these bits and pieces into granny squares.

The bits and pieces were predominately pastels. Many pinks, peaches, and lavenders were in the mix – not colors I would have chosen, had I handpicked them myself. But as I began to weave them together and combine them with some of my more “favored” colors, I grew to love the beauty of this soft rainbow.

I now have 70 granny squares, each surrounded by the color of Lake Michigan beach sand, waiting to be joined into a blanket. A blanket that will warm my family physically, but also warms my heart. In these squares, I see the beauty and personalities of so many of my friends.

Crocheting these granny squares has been both a labor of love and a measure of my tolerance for torture. Sure, my mind still fumbles occasionally as I attempt to recall the patterns that were taught to me as a child, leaving me momentarily lost and confused. But the real torture test is in my hands; hands which constantly scream out in pain, refusing to cooperate, and demanding the pampering of painkillers, wrist splints, and heat packs. Where crocheting once was a mindless activity, one where my hands worked swiftly and skillfully with the yarn, now it is a time-consuming painstaking process that requires much patience and determination as each stitch slowly forms with great effort often accompanied by tears.

As is my life. Circumstance dictates the necessity to make something from nothing, as there is nothing here now but the many “bits of yarn”, remnants left as evidence of a previous existence.

And the many leftovers – left from my life with him, other people’s cast-off’s, even the “leftovers” found in the scratch and dent bin at the supermarket – all combine together, sometimes so beautifully, to become this life that is now mine.

WooHoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-07-09T08:32:00.000-07:00

So, that's what all the noise is in that room! I was hoping ...

Boy, I'm looking forward to seeing this ... but not going to tell him that I spotted his blog entry. After all, I'd hate to cause progress to come to a halt!

Shhhhhh!

2007-07-07T10:07:00.000-07:00

Ok, don't tell my Mom - she hasn't seen it yet - but guess what? I'm cleaning my room!

Yeah, I know ... I could hardly believe it myself. For weeks she's been telling me that she thinks my bad attitude is coming from the nasty environment that I've created for myself. So I started to pay attention to when I'm getting in trouble for acting up. And she might be right!

When we're out, I feel ok. We talk, we laugh, we joke, we do all the stuff we used to do. When we're at home, I feel nasty and grumpy. I bitch and I complain and I generally try to see if I can get her to explode. I guess I just want her to feel as nasty and grumpy and unhappy as I do.

So that sounds like it really might be environmental. And I've decided to change my environment.

Last night I started trying to clean up, and was grossed out by how dirty my room really is. Yeah, I know, she's been telling me. But I guess I just ignored her. Anyway, you can see half the floor now. And I have clean clothes to wear, I've been doing laundry.

Did you know that when we bought this house, my Mom gave me the Master Bedroom? Yep, it's the largest bedroom in the house, and the one with cross-ventilation too. I used to really like it. I guess I stopped liking it when I started letting it get out of control. But I'm liking it better today already!

My Mom says I'm a young man and that it's time to step up and act like one. Maybe this will help show her that I'm ready for that challenge. I hope so.

neglected

2007-06-30T05:05:00.000-07:00

No matter how much I attempt to do in a day, something in my life is being neglected. It's been this way for many years now. After all, it's impossible for one person to do ALL of the work and handle ALL of the responsibilities of two. So frustrating!

For a while, I was pretty good at rotating those neglected areas - shifting priorities every week or so, in order to ensure that nothing was neglected for too long. I'm still pretty good at it during the colder months!

But during the summer, I spend too much time in the yard working in the gardens and enjoying the sunshine. And other things? Well, they just shift to the back burner! Usually I catch up on rainy days ... and while we've recently had several rainy nights, well, the days have been great ... so ...

Today I am making a rainy day list, of all the items I have negelected over the past few weeks. I'll tackle this list gradually, over time, likely during thundershowers.

After all, life is too short not to enjoy the sunshine.

There are more of us than you might realize!

2007-06-27T08:51:00.000-07:00

A friend recently mentioned “public education is a good thing” - a phrase that I’ve been known to use almost to excess, in my efforts to make young widows issues visible.

I’ll admit, with great joy, that our numbers are small. We do not have the strength of the AARP, nor do we want it, for that would mean that so many others would be on this journey with us. But THERE ARE MORE OF US THAN YOU REALIZE.

We don’t have the energy to be vocal – grieving is hard work. We don’t have the time to be activists – we are trying to raise our children alone. We don’t have the resources to be heard – most young widows live well below the poverty level. EVEN THOUGH WE ARE NOT OFTEN SEEN OR HEARD, WE ARE HERE.

In the widows groups I facilitate, we often speak of empowerment; of finding your voice and letting the world see a tiny segment of what we deal with every day. After all, unless we allow people to see what our lives become they will remain totally clueless … and even if we tried endlessly to provide that fly-on-the-wall view, we still realize that true understanding comes only with experience.

I’m of the belief that a small amount of comprehension is better than none at all. So I speak. And I write. And my real-life group members participate in activities that are designed to empower them, to encourage them, and to help them find their voice. And even in my cyber-groups, we find understanding and friendship … and sometimes even the courage to say our thoughts out loud to the masses!

I speak in the hopes of helping others who are walking this path. I speak in the hopes of reaching someone who is lost in the throes of sorrow. I speak because too many people do not realize what they have until it is gone. I speak because our stories need to be heard – because even though you may not see us, we are out here.

The issues faced by young widows today are many … and they do not go away. We deal with financial struggles, discrimination, the pain of our grieving children, the loss of our life partners, and so much more. And we deal with these things each and every day, for the rest of our lives.

We move forward, we gain strength; we do both ordinary and amazing things for our shattered families and even for the communities around us. We have walked thru the fire and we are not only still standing, but we are still standing strong.

In hope that someday, the world will realize that it’s treatment of young widows is SO totally wrong, on SO many levels. Yes, public education is indeed a good thing!

You know ...

2007-06-26T06:17:00.000-07:00

The memories rolled thru my head, as if being viewed on the silver screen. It all feels like it was just yesterday, you know. And as I watched, I smiled a small sad smile.

Those thoughts fill me with such emptiness. I’m nothing without him, you know. And I’m also everything to my family now; I have no choice.

These same memories also fill me with an overwhelming happiness. So many people travel this life journey without ever finding what we had. I was blessed, you know.

With the smiles come tears, with the joy comes sadness … it’s all a part of the path of loss. You know, it’s just a part of my journey now.

The pain never goes away, you know. It softens with time and blends more smoothly with everyday life, but it is always there; every moment of every day it’s there. You know that, don’t you?

And as I sat on the front porch last night, watching the twinkling of the fireflies against the night sky, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of life … and, well, you know … overwhelmed by the pain of his absence.

It’s all just, well, you know … no, that’s not right … no, you don’t know … you can’t know, until you travel this road … and … I hope that for you … knowing … is a long ways off.

19 years ago today

2007-06-25T15:24:00.000-07:00

By 9am, the temperature had already climbed above 90.

My friends and I were wilting as we rushed to pick up the last remaining food items and load them in the vehicles. We were, in fact, the caterers.

When we loaded the 200 helium balloons into a van, at least a dozen popped in the heat as we drove down Woodward Ave.

We would have gone straight to the church, really, but, well, it was SO hot ... so we grabbed a few bottles of chilled champagne and played in the fountain at the Detroit Zoo first.

The florist was a bit taken aback at the 7 wet girls in ponytails and bikini tops, cut-offs and sandals, and seemed quite confused as he asked "where's the bride?"

By 12 o'clock, the temperature was 106, and we all figured that Hell had indeed frozen over - and we were so hot because, well, all that heat had to go somewhere - and heat rises!

As we dressed, we were all beginning to feel faint as the church wasn't air-conditioned. Ugh, TOO much clothing for a day like this!

At 2 o'clock, the best man shoved a handful of ice down my bra to keep me from passing out during the ceremony.

In the middle of the ceremony, the power grid failed ... and the church choir rushed to bring candles!

We decided that a recieving line was simply unnecessary and had the minister send everyone to the air-conditioned hall- and hoped like crazy that power would come back on to keep that air-conditioning running.

The wedding party would have gone straight to the reception hall, really, but well, it saw SO hot, instead we picked up a cold 12-pack and played in the fountain at the Detroit Zoo first - gowns, tuxedos, and all!

19 years ago today, I married the love of my life.

Today, the sound of his absence is deafening.

A gardener ... without

2007-06-24T14:35:00.000-07:00

I am a gardener. I tend beautiful flowers. I am able to give them what they need and more. I enjoy giving nourishment and support, and watching my gardens thrive.

In every relationship, there is a gardener and a flower. Although these roles do shift from time to time as dictated by the situation, one’s primary role remains the same. I am the gardener. When there are two gardeners, nothing grows right. Too many cooks in the kitchen, I suppose! And two flowers? Well, with no one to tend them, they simply wither and die.

The relationship between gardener and flower is a little like dancing, you know. When two people try to lead, nothing feels right. The movement doesn’t flow with the music. When one person realizes that and allows the other to lead, both bodies begin to flow with the music.

When you plant a seed in the garden you know very well that in order for it to grow into a strong oak tree, an elegant palm that sways in the wind, sweet-smelling rosemary, or a flowering hibiscus, it first needs soil, water, sunlight, care, and constancy. You can’t be afraid to get your hands dirty: gardening involves hard work and deep digging before we can get to the beauty.

Gardening can certainly be hard work. Growth takes time and effort. There are good seasons and bad. Weather can sometimes be a challenge; it can be tough for a garden to weather a storm. But as all gardeners know, the results are beautiful.

Have you ever thought about what happens to the gardener when the flower is gone? With nothing to tend, the gardener grows discontented - the gardener is without half of oneself. It’s a little like being a fish out of water. A gardener needs to focus attention on a beloved garden; willingness, attentiveness, gentle guidance and skill, the cultivating, pruning, and patience needs a home. With no place to focus that attention, the gardener feels lost, empty, and alone.

It’s not neglect that causes my bloom to fail – it’s having no flower to tend.

I'm gonna go help Jack ...

2007-06-16T06:42:00.000-07:00

Ya know, life is stressful enough even without the addition of an evil teenage attitude. But honestly, no matter how many times I share this thought with my 14-year-old son, he really doesn't care. He's been a real challenge lately, and that's putting it oh-so-mildly. But every once in a while, I see a glimmer of hope ...

A few days back my mother called. She wasn't feeling well and wanted me to come. I knew full well that I really couldn't afford the gas to drive the 2 hours to her house and then the 2 hours back. But the BOY - oh, the BOY was being just awful! - and once I heard my mother's voice, well, you guessed it: I wanted my mommy! And that's really saying something - my mother and I are NOT close. In fact, we are the farthest thing from it. But yep, I wanted my mommy. So we got in the car and headed to Grandma's house.

The BOY was nasty non-stop for the first 40 minutes of the ride. I fantasized about opening the passenger door and tossing his behind out in the middle of the interstate. But that would be wrong. Instead, I burst into tears and began screaming at him. Nope, don't remember what I said. All I know is it began with the words "Who do you think you are?" and "How DARE you treat me like this?" and (yes, I am ashamed) "You dishonor your father each and every day you choose to behave like this instead of acting like a young man should."

I screamed non-stop for the remaining 1 hour and 20 minutes of the trip. Well, almost. Somewhere around 1 hour and 10 minutes I managed to blow out my vocal chords. Still don't really have my voice back, I'm kind of froggy! And while I screamed, he stared. Jaw dropped, eyes opened wide, stared with a look of total disbelief. Just sat silently and stared.

We got to Grandma's house and I simply melted into my mothers arms sobbing. Must've cried for another half an hour or so. And then, of course, all I could do was whisper my attempt to tell her what was wrong. The BOY sat quietly next to me, patting my shoulder and handing me tissues and saying "it'll be ok, Mom", still with that stunned look on his face.

Right about now, you're expecting me to turn this post into an obituary for the BOY, right? Surprise! As we sat there, the BOY spotted an elderly neighbor, struggling in the heat to mow his lawn. Unprompted, he said "I'm gonna go help Jack" and immediately headed off across the street. I saw him talk with Jack for a few minutes (it appeared as if they were debating whether or not Jack needed help!) and then Jack grinned and shrugged and handed the lawnmower over to the BOY. The BOY worked for Jack for 4 hours. He mowed, fixed the trimmer, trimmed, weeded, painted a sign, and helped clean the garage. And refused pay.

Yep, the BOY has been a real handful lately. But every-once-in-a-while, I still see a glimpse of the young man he was raised to be ... and I am proud.

Red Marbles

2007-06-04T17:36:00.000-07:00

(from my inbox this morning)

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed
a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily
apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes
but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover
for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help
overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and
the ragged boy next to me.

"Hello Barry, how are you today?"

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure
look good."

"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"

"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."

"Good. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."

"Would you like to take some home?" asked Mr. Miller.

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."

"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"

"All I got's my prize marble here."

"Is that right? Let me see it" said Miller.

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."

"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go
for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" the store owner
asked.

"Not zackley but almost."

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this
way let me look at that red marble". Mr. Miller told the boy.

"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a
smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in our community, all
three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with
them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with
their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after
all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an
orangeone, when they come on their next trip to the store."

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short
time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this
man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just
recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho
community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having hisvisitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the
relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we
could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and
the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts... all
very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and
smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her,
kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.

Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man
stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in
the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her
of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about
her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my
hand and led me to the casket.

"Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.
They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them.
Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size... they
came to pay their debt."

"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she
confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased
husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

Today I learned: My Aura is Green

2007-05-31T13:19:00.001-07:00

Memorial Day 2007

2007-05-27T07:23:00.001-07:00

My thoughts on dreams YOU have for ME

2007-05-22T05:24:00.000-07:00

My Mom wrote the following on a journal:

The truth is that children lose parents to death every single day. And we as a society are indeed incompetent when it comes to dealing with the accompanying grief. We desperately lack the necessary knowledge to help grieving children heal.

The dreams I have for Jona are not typical. Yes, I dream of a good education and a productive future. I dream of a nice home, good family, and of never going without. I dream of his becoming a decent moral man; caring, kind, and generous. I dream many of the same dreams that all parents dream for their children. But I dream of more.

I dream that he will be able to move past the grief and sorrow; the devastation and destruction that the death of his father brought to our lives. I dream that the pain will soften, and that the universe will provide a soft landing. I dream that he will one day be able to find trust in life again, that he’ll grow up to be brave and strong and move past the flashbacks that torment not only his sleep, but so many waking moments as well.

I dream that he will learn that anger turned outwards is violence, anger turned inwards is depression, and anger turned sideways is humor … and that humor is preferable! I dream that he will learn that doing what is right is best, even when it isn’t always easiest. I dream that his smile will again come as naturally as it once did, and that he will learn to relax as he searches for his place in this world.

Children grieving the loss of a parent have experienced a trauma so great that it's nearly incomprehensible to the rest of us. Even the experts DON'T KNOW what life becomes for these children. This is an invisible wound, My kid looks like all the other kids (well, except for that red hair and those freckles - but that's a totally different thing!) Life is different for a child who is not just imagining that something terrible MIGHT happen, but a child who KNOWS that terrible things DO happen.

For these children, happily ever after only exists in fairy tales. And yet I dream that he finds some measure of happiness.

At first when I saw it, I thought "who are YOU to decide on dreams for ME???" But then I read it. And her dreams are just for a good life, for success, for happiness. She's not dreaming or insisting that I become President or that I save the world. She just wants me to be a good person.

And when I thought about what she had written, I decided that I need to start to work at this. I'm not a little kid anymore. It's time to start really working toward these goals. And I'm choosing to start today.

Love ya Mom!

~Jonathon

What you don't want "public", you shouldn't prance across a stage!!!

2007-05-18T00:17:00.000-07:00

Here are a few of the comments people have shared in e-mail and on my other journal. Apparently, I'm not alone in believing that CHILDREN should not dress like streetwalkers:

I'm surprised that they didn't impose some form of uniform dress for them! I've played in orchestras since I was in 4th grade. We were always given some guidelines for dress, and often they were very specific--either white shirt and long black skirt or pants, or later on, all black.

That is truly appalling. Some parents like to live through their kids. They will let their kids do whatever it takes to be "popular" or look cool. It is utterly ridiculous!!!

I'd have been as appalled as you were. WTG for speaking out!

I hate seeing the girls at my daughter’s jr. high dressed like that! It is like they are advertising that they are easy!!

I had a similar experience. It's sad that parents think that kind of apparel is appropriate. I went to the principal and he handled it immediately.

I was there, and I was appalled also.

I echo what has been commented many times earlier--I'm just shocked at what some parents think is appropriate (or not)!

I understand your disgust and frustration. The way that these young girls dress is NOT becoming to say the least.

That would REALLY bother me, too. Why do they have different standards for the 6th grade?

I would be complaining - loudly - until I was heard.

I think the band director is responsible for the appearance of his band. He should decide on appropriate dress and require it for everyone.

UNIFORMS, UNIFORMS, UNIFORMS!!! That would solve the problem!

I was in band in school. For concerts, we had to dress nicely.

Good for you!! Dressing for school like that has gotten way out of control!!

At last year's sixth grade graduation rehearsals, I overheard the then-PA President - a male - embarrassed beyond belief mentioning to one of the teachers that they need to start telling girls of a certain age to invest in undergarments, especially if they're going to be standing under bright lights. I think if someone had said that to me when I was that age, I'd have died of mortification!

Some parents are afraid to set limits, because then they'd have to be the parent.

Students should be required to dress better for a concert than they do for everyday classes.

The audience has a RIGHT to be offended by this kind of garbage and to express how they feel to the school. And the school has an OBLIGATION to address this issue with the student-offenders and their parents!

Those stupid little girls think they look great ... and YES, it IS the responsibility of the adults to burst that bubble and tell them that they look cheap!

We recently had a similar situation happen here … only when I told the school principal that the students looked like little sluts, he not only spoke with the students and parents, but he suspended the students for 1 day each, for violating acceptable school standards!

Oh, it IS bad parenting ... but in those situations where the parents are too unintelligent to do what's right, the school should absolutely enforce appropriate standards.

I think some parents are trying to live vicariously through their children. They want their kids to be in the 'cool' group. What they fail to realize is that they are teaching their daughters that the only way to be popular is to be a (for want of a better word) 'whore'.

Disgusting. And the lack of response equally disgusting. And from an “A+” school district, they claim!

Yep, little girls in trashy clothes look, well, trashy!!!

These are some strange days we are in with this type of thing. Instead of being ticked off that you’re told the 6th graders looked like sluts, why not just enforce the dress code so they can’t look like sluts?

I just don't get how this is okay by parents! And apparently okay with some school personnel too! Totally offensive!

This kind of thing is why I homeschool!

Schools that claim to have dress codes are absolutely obligated to enforce them!

Absolutely shameful! That band director should be held accountable for allowing this to happen.

This school is why all public schools should be uniformed. This is a disgrace.

If they look like sluts, they look like sluts. No sense in trying to say it nicely. It’s an ugly thing. It should sound ugly. If the Vice Principal doesn’t like this, he should do something about it.

It seems a shame to have to punish the whole group due to the lack of judgment of a few, but perhaps the school board should require all musicians wear long pants and button down shirts.

I too hate to see children dressed like sex toys.

So, to those who are offended that *I* aired our school district's dirty laundry in public, GET REAL. I am not the one who chose to parade it across a stage at a PUBLIC event.

Boobs and Belly Buttons and Butt Cheeks, OH MY!

2007-05-17T10:27:00.000-07:00

Monday night was the final band concert of the year. The 7th and 8th grade bands are uniformed; black pants, white tuxedo shirts, black bow ties. They looked, acted, and played respectably.

The 6th grade band, however, is NOT uniformed. And oh, what a serious mistake this clearly is. While nearly every boy I saw was dressed in khakis and a nice shirt, the majority of girls looked like sluts. 6th grade girls, for crying out loud ... 11 and 12 year olds!

Here are a few hints for 11 and 12 year old girls:

-If your "skirt" is shorter than the "skirt" on a bathing suit, it is inappropriate.

-If your skirt is not only overly short but also skin tight, it will ride up even farther when you sit down on stage - and guess what view the audience unwillingly has.

-If you add high heels to your disgustingly short and tight skirt, you should learn to bend at the knees instead of at the waist - cuz NO ONE wants that view!

-You are a child - we do not want to see your ass-crack or your thong, your cleavage or your non-existent cleavage, your belly button or your fat rolls at a school event. Save those things for the beach or better still the privacy of your own home.

-And if you have actually begun to sprout cleavage, skin-tight paper-thin spaghetti-strap tanks are highly inappropriate without some sort of undergarment. Again, NO ONE wants to see your nipples. (and yes, the audience could!)

-If you are wearing more make-up than Tammy Faye Baker, it does NOT make you look older. It makes you look like a CLOWN, or like a little child playing dress-up.

Oh, and for those little 6th grade girls who believe that dressing cheap makes you appear cool, here are a few comments that I overheard some of the audience members make in regards to your appearance:

"Middle school's got a whorehouse in it!" ... said in a sing-song voice by 2 high school boys as a 6th grade band member walked by with her instrument in her hand. (I can only imagine how this little girl must have felt, hearing that ... what on earth is wrong with her parents for allowing her to be subjected to this??? Yes, the boys were wrong to say this, but this child's parents are the ones who allowed her out of the house like that!)

"Who do those little girls think they're impressing? They look disgusting!" ... said by a white-haired woman to the lady standing next to her.

"My mother would SO not let me out of the house like that; they must all be ORPHANS!" ... said by a high school girl, rolling her eyes.

"Isn't that just begging for a child molester to abduct you, going out in public like that? That's so scary!" ... said by a wife to her husband.

"Yeah, all the 6th grade girls act like sluts - and they're always hanging around us, trying to get our attention." ... said by an 8th grade band member.

Some of the 6th grade girls were dressed appropriately, but the choices and actions of their peers was surely what stood out. And while I'm sure that "all" of the 6th grade girls do not act or dress this way (as the 8th grader shared in his opinion) this administration needs to realize that that the behavior and appearance of the students (ALL of the students, especially those in violation as unfortunately they're the ones who people will remember!) reflects on the school.

THIS SCHOOL DISTRICT HAS A DRESS CODE, for crying out loud! Or at least they CLAIM to!!! One that they strictly enforce when it comes to the boys! Heck, a boy can't even walk in the door in the morning and walk to his locker wearing a baseball cap. The cap must come off before he is allowed to enter the building!

I am absolutely appalled that the dress code for this concert was not equal to or better than the dress code imposed upon our students each and every school day. I would have thought that at the very least the same rules that apply to every day would apply to a mandatory musical performance. Any student who was scheduled to perform at the concert and showed up in violation of the dress code should not have been allowed on the stage at all!

I shared my concerns with the principal, who chose not to return my phone call. I then shared my concerns with the assistant principal, who chose not to return my phone call, and since I got no response whatsoever from the school, I publicly shared this in a (different) on-line journal, titled "If I wanted to see this much skin, I'd have gone to a strip club". The assistant principal THEN stated that they had received other complaints about this very same issue and that the band director would be addressing this issue in the future.

The assistant principal also shared that she felt personally attacked by the fact that this was made public. THIS WAS A PUBLIC CONCERT. THIS WAS MADE PUBLIC BY THE LITTLE GIRLS WHO CHOSE TO DEMEAN THEMSELVES BY SHOWING UP DRESSED IN THIS WAY, AND BY THE PARENTS WHO ALLOWED THEM TO DO SO! The unsuspecting PUBLIC was exposed (yeah, EXPOSED seems like the right word!) to this the moment those children were allowed onstage. If the school had wished to prevent this, they could have. Why didn't the band director simply decide that any student not in compliance with dress code would not be allowed to perform and would be marked down accordingly?

Ultimately, it is a parent's decision how they choose to allow their pre-teen daughters to dress (or appear in public in various stages of undress). And ultimately it is the parent's responsibility.

BUT IF THE SCHOOL HAS A DRESS CODE AND CHOOSES NOT TO ENFORCE IT, THEN THEY TOO MUST BEAR SOME OF THE BLAME.

*oh, and a note to the school administrator who disliked my pointing out that so many little girls looked like tramps? If you enforce the dress code and do not allow the little girls to look like tramps, you won't have to worry handling these matters!

Thoughts on Mother's Day

2007-05-11T13:23:00.000-07:00

When I look across the dinner table at Jona, I know how lucky I am. But I also see the void; the empty seat that should be occupied by Chloe Ray, an irreplaceable, beautiful little girl who was so peaceful and so perfect, but too tiny to survive. I have made my peace with this loss, but don’t think that all my tears have been wiped away.

How do I cope? One breath, one tear, one moment at a time. So many people are afraid to speak of death and dying. They think that not speaking of it makes it somehow easier, as if it can perhaps slip by unnoticed. They are mistaken. We notice the void everywhere; from the empty spot in the church pew, to telling a new friend how many children we have, to the photograph on the wall that will never age.

With Mother’s Day approaching, please remember the mothers who have broken hearts and empty arms, the mothers who are aching for the child they should be holding. Remember other mothers like me who on this Mother’s Day feel the void, the absence. True, we may have other children begging our attention, but we remember and we have a heartbreaking ache for the child that cannot be replaced. Mother’s Day after the death of a child is particularly hard and is not a “happy” Mother’s Day.

This Mother’s Day, remember a mom who is hurting.

Enter to WIN!!!

2007-05-08T05:01:00.000-07:00

Ok Moms, you MUST visit "5 Minutes for Mom". They're hosting an amazing Mother's Day contest, with chances to win LOTS of great prizes!

See ya there! And good luck everyone!!!

I'm standing ... are you???

2007-05-05T05:11:00.000-07:00

It's just an idea whose time may have come.

There may be enough people willing to stand in silence for five minutes on Mother's Day to let others know we care for the future of the world for our children and their children to come.

I had to pass it on.

I'm standing.

http://www.standingwomen.org/english_story.html

We are standing for the world's children and grandchildren, and for the seven generations beyond them.

We dream of a world where all of our children have safe drinking water, clean air to breathe, and enough food to eat. A world where they have access to a basic education to develop their minds and healthcare to nurture their growing bodies. A world where they have a warm, safe and loving place to call home. A world where they don't live in fear of violence - in their home, in their neighborhood, in their school or in their world.

This is the world of which we dream. This is the cause for which we stand

Please stand with us for five minutes of silence at 1 p.m. your local time on May 13, 2007, in your local park, school yard, gathering place, or any place you deem appropriate, to signify your desire to bring about this kind of world.

We ask you to invite the men who you care about to join you. We ask that you bring bells to ring at 1 p.m. to signify the beginning of the five minutes of silence and to ring again to signify the end of the period of silence.

During the silence, please think about what you individually and we collectively can do to attain this world. And then, begin to make it happen!

Money! Money! Money!

2007-05-04T16:10:00.000-07:00

I got a job! Well, actually 3 of them! and will probably be asked back to a 4th!

I'm helping to re-hab a house to resell. It's really cool, it's only a block away from our house and the guy hired me to help out. I know his wife, she taught at my elementary school. My Mom was hired to do the landscape for this job, so part of the time I'll be working for her and the rest of the time I'll be working on the interior.

My other jobs? I also got a job mowing a lawn once a week, hired by a friend of the family to do this. Because she knows me, the friend referred me to her neighbor, and the neighbor hired me to help work in her flower gardens this summer too! And I'm hoping to be asked back to work on the farm I worked on last summer.

And the best part??? NONE of it interferes with swim team practice!!! How cool is that???

~Jonathon

Naive?

2007-04-26T06:04:00.000-07:00

She`s not like that now.

She knows better.

She knows now that people lie & promises can be broken as quickly as they`re made.

She understands that you can`t change time, so every now & then it will just run out.

She knows that you can`t always expect people to care.

She has learned that in the end, you are your own best friend.

She knows that everyone will be broken at some point in their life & it`s gonna hurt like hell.

She realizes that you can`t change your fate.

She has learned that certain things no longer have the same importance that they once did … and other things, well, they have more.

And that happens because that`s the way it supposed to be.

And she knows that most people learn this later in life, but sometimes it surprises you and happens in an instant.

And in that instant, you learn so very much.

She knows.

I love my FREECYCLE!

2007-04-25T15:55:00.000-07:00

Ya'll know about Freecycle, right?

The Freecycle Network is made up of many individual groups across the globe. It's a grassroots and entirely nonprofit movement of people who are giving (& getting) stuff for free in their own towns.

The Freecycle Network was started in May 2003 to promote waste reduction and help keep land from being taken over by landfills. The Network provides a forum to "recycle" unwanted useable items rather than throw them away. One person's trash can truly be another's treasure!

In the past few years, I have given away 2 computers, 2 small boy's bikes, a window air conditioning unit, boy's clothing, and much much more!

I have recieved a Men's bike, a milk-glass lamp, perennials for my garden, canning jars, and a twin-over-full bunk bed.

Check out the Freecycle group available in your area! It's a great solution for a global problem and might help fill a need your family has too!

Finding the Silver Lining in Life’s Sorrow

2007-04-08T06:51:00.000-07:00

Surely everyone has heard the saying "Every cloud has a silver lining." Yet I admit that often I find it difficult in the moment to see a solid reason for bad things that occur. It’s difficult to stay positive when disappointing or painful events happen and to eventually discover the good outcomes to the hard times in your life. Life doesn’t teach us to automatically expect that things will work out to our advantage; we have to put some effort into reaching this conclusion.

It can be tough to overcome the worry and anxiety that circumstances bring and it’s challenging to learn to live a more peaceful life, rising to meet the mountains that we must climb. Yet climb we must, and it is that climb that allows us to rise to the highest peak, that peak that rises above the clouds, and see those clouds from a different perspective.

I’ve had to muster up the courage to overcome the pain in every situation. I have been blessed to have learned to embrace every moment; not waiting for what tomorrow brings, but enjoy and savor what this day has brought. Through all the lost loves and changed plans, there is always an underlying, tireless glow of optimism to be found even in the most broken of hearts.

Yes, even in the most broken of hearts

Boy-sicle, anyone?

2007-04-05T11:55:00.000-07:00

I believe I have invented the boy-sicle! hehe! Allow me to explain.

Last year, the boy chose to ride his bike to the library without permission. Because he assumed that if I drove by and saw his bike in the bike rack when he was at the library without permission I would be angry (ya think???), he chose to hide his bike along the side of the building ... from where it was STOLEN. (yes, the mean mom does a happy dance every time she thinks of this ... after all, a lesson learned that I didn't have to teach!) Because he had his bike stolen due to the fact that he was misbehaving, he's been without one for about 10 months now. And it's been practically killing him! LOL!

I've used freecycle on and off for about 6 years now ... and on Monday spotted an offer for what sounded like a pretty nice bike. I answered it and the bike is mine. The bike was located aprox. 7 miles away. So, I struck a deal with the child that in exchange for cleaning the damn kitchen (A great big huge mess that HE made - and yes, that IS a bribe ... tough) I would drive him to pick up the bike. This morning, he cleaned half the kitchen (the amount required in advance) and I drove him to get the bike. He was told in advance that he would be riding the bike home. He was reminded that it is icy cold, wind chill of 11 degrees today with occasional flurries. He chose to wear shorts because "Mother, it IS spring!" No hat, no gloves, nothing. (Can you say DUH???)

We picked up the bike, we stopped at the gas station and checked the tires, I met him again at the police station where we licensed the bike, and then he rode home. You would think he'd be irritable ... at the gas station he starting to pitch a little fit about how cold it was and I was getting to ride in a nice warm car. I reminded him that I wasn't the one who neglected to lock my bicycle because I was where I wasn't supposed to be. That one reminder was all it took.

At the police station he was starting to get excited about the bike, saying that it handles really good and the gears shift smoothly. (It really is a very nice bike!) By the time he got home his cheeks (and his bare knees!) were bright red, but he was smiling. And gave me a big hug and said "Thanks, Mom".

Yes, he's a boy-sicle. Absolutely frozen! He sat and shivered in a blanket for about 10 minutes. Then he actually got up and started cleaning the kitchen again.

If you fall ...

2007-04-04T12:37:00.000-07:00

off the face of the Earth, just keep falling.
And eventually the Universe will catch you.

Queen of the Big Time

2007-03-31T09:10:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago, I read a book for one of the book clubs I belong to ... the book is titled "Queen of the Big Time".

It's a little sad in a few places, and uplifting in others. It was an easy read and I enjoyed it.

But there was one paragraph near the end of the book that is SO true ... it is SO accurate ... that it etched itself on my brain.

"I miss my husband more as the years go by, not less. It's a secret we widows share. I still pat his side of the bed expecting to find him there, and imagine what his kisses would feel like now. In memory they are so sweet, I can taste them."

2 views, 1 event

2007-03-27T19:42:00.000-07:00

In that moment, I knew that my life had ended. My hands turned to ice and began to tremble as I desperately gasped for air. I could feel the sweat trickle down the back of my neck as my temperature spiked skyward and I could hear the roar of my own pulse pounding like the bass beat of a heavy metal band. Overwhelmed by shock and the odor of antiseptic, I collapsed to the floor in a crumpled heap. And as the world went black around me, silently I prayed for death.

The chaplain moved swiftly down the corridor in determined motion towards the barefoot blonde. As he drew closer, he watched all color drain from the woman’s face and he couldn’t help but think that her obvious pain seemed to mesh perfectly with the cold stark January day. Her knees became unsteady and she fell to the floor like an abandoned rag doll. Having arrived by her side too late to soften her landing, the chaplain knelt and took the only action he knew to take; silently he began to pray for healing.

the journey

2007-03-25T10:25:00.000-07:00

Most days pain ripples like the ebb and flow of the tide. Gentle waves washing ashore in an almost yet not quite predictable pattern. In and out. Back and forth. And time goes on.

Some days, the dark clouds begin to roll in. The waves begin to strengthen and build, the sky becomes dark, and the air becomes heavy and difficult to breathe. And on those days when I am blessed, light finds a tiny crack to squeeze thru and calm is restored.

But every once in a while the world becomes black, the sky sends lightening bolts toward the water, the waves reach a crescendo crashing violently against the sandy beach and the heavens rumble and roar in agony as the torrential downpour drives me to my knees.

Today, I am on my knees.

The Story of Thelma & Louise

2007-03-18T19:31:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, following the death of our miniature schnauzer Fuzzy, my husband showed up at home with a huge grin – and said “come see what’s in my pocket!”

I was holding a baby, answering the phone, and making dinner – and wasn’t in the mood for a game. My response? “Pervert.”

And then a teeny tiny little black snout appeared from the pocket of his overcoat and I began to smile. A second tiny black snout poked out from the other pocket and Don removed both puppies from his pockets and held one in the palm of each hand. Oh, they were tiny! And cute! And mischievous!

Thelma and Louise were miniature schnauzers too, and sweet as could be! They did everything together – they went for walks together, played in the yard together, cuddled together in one dog bed, rode in Jona’s stroller together – well, with Jona, of course!

And for reasons unknown, Louise became “my” dog and Thelma became “Don’s”. That's not something WE did, that's something THEY did! We were clearly their "people", they were not our pets!

We almost lost Thelma after Don’s death. She refused to eat, refused to play, and was just plain sad. But we nursed her back to health by spoonfeeding her yogurt or rice, rocking her like a baby, and coaxing her to play. And Jona became “her boy”.

Oh, boy did she claim Jona! She would sit next to him, climb onto his lap at every opportunity, sleep curled up at his feet, and position herself in front of him defensively whenever company arrived.

We lost Louise last May. She is buried under the pine trees in the back yard - the same pine trees where she used to lie down and watch me when I was gardening.

We didn't think Thelma would make it without Lou. But we gave her lots of extra love and attention so she wouldn't be too lonely and she carried on like a trooper. Although she still wandered under the pine trees occasionally, searching for her sister.

Thel died tonight. I can hardly believe she's gone. My sadness is great.

And now Jona is the one wandering around looking lost.

Favorite Movie Quote

2007-03-17T16:51:00.000-07:00

"You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours." You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country cannot just be a flag. The symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Now show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. "

- Movie speech from the American President - President Shepherd's Press Conference on Bob Rumson and the Crime Bill.

About "Widow's Words"

2007-03-17T06:35:00.000-07:00

My previous post, Widow's Words, is simply a list of shared thoughts from a widows group that I facilitate, and also from my journal. A total of 6 are mine. If you can identify which 6 are mine, that's pretty impressive. Because honestly, they're all pretty universal feelings for young widows. I'm sure I've felt them all, at one point or another. At the end of each meeting, everyone writes down where they're at at that moment. In some comments, you can clearly see where the discussion fell during that group meeting. In others, it's not quite so obvious. What is obvious is the clear, raw, unadulterated pain.

If you choose to read these comments, read them slowly. Take a moment to really think about each one, what you have just read. If you do this, by the time you are done reading and thinking, you MIGHT have an outsiders understanding of MAYBE 1% of the journey a widow walks each and every day.

In the interest of public education: Widows Words

2007-03-15T15:56:00.000-07:00

Every day I sit here and my tears are just falling and I can't seem to stop sobbing. I don’t think I ever will.

I feel like half a person and think I always will.

I too feel like just half a person. In fact, I feel like no person at all sometimes. As if I am lost in space.

I always told him I didn't know what I'd do if he died first. Now I know. I just merely exist as 1/2 a person. I don’t live, I merely exist.

Early on, I often described myself as feeling like I was only half a person However, the further out I get, the less I feel this way, and the more I just feel like a beaten, bruised and scarred whole person.

Me and him against the world and now its just me. One half of a team. The world feels so cold sometimes because you don't have that #1 support there anymore.

He did complete me; make me feel like a whole person.

I'm trying to rebuild my life but right now, there's no future. The future we had is gone.

I just know that my husband helped me become the person I am and I miss him dearly... I feel lost!

The whole world continues on – blissfully unaware that your world has ceased to exist.

The pain in your heart never ends.

My pain is too great to be able to talk to anyone about it, except with other widows, as they truly are the only ones who are able to understand it.

I am so desperately sad. I don't believe anymore that I have the strength or courage to do this.

Inside I am dying.

The loneliness of not having him here with me is so painful, and there is no way to lessen that pain.

The loneliness is starting to eat me alive.

Who am I supposed to watch the fireworks with?

He was always my support system - in all things. He was always there to help or at least pick up everything that slips through the cracks. Now I have to pick it all up myself.

I am so tired of feeling and rebuilding. I can't wait for the day where I can just start living again without having to work at everything – but that day will never come.

I can't say I'm really better - just more numb.

Just please let me get through. I can't take this. I really can't.

I have fallen way back into the dark hole of grief. I am angry, sad, crying more now than ever. I have no energy and I just miss him so much. Will this ever get better for us? I think its getting worse. Every day its getting worse.

On the way home, I just started crying - more than I have in a long time. Tears were streaming down my cheeks the whole ride home. I don't know what triggered it. Do we ever know?

He truly was my other half. We often talked about having been made for each other. He understood me, even my silly jokes. We fit together. We really were an example of when two become one. Now that's gone. I’m incomplete.

With each passing day, I find that the grief is different. The shock has most assuredly worn off, and the waves of pain still keep crashing. They never stop.

I had a dream last night, reliving every moment of the time my husband died. I have this dream every night.

My life actually probably looks good from the outside. It is the inner turmoil that is so much harder than I allow anyone to know.

I now live in a world of hurt, and the pain is so great I don’t know which end is up.

GOD, please tell me what I am doing wrong... I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND WANT HIM TO COME HOME!!!

I’m supposed to accept the unacceptable; that my love - my everything - is gone forever. And I want to scream when I understand that reality deep down in my gut.

I can't find the energy to put my pain in words.

Somehow we all keep going. No thanks to anyone other than ourselves.

It is not ours, this life I’m living. We will not be in it together, nor will we ever see our dreams come true. It’s the slow losses that are doing me in these days … every day brings with it a new loss.

I thought we were supposed to grow old together.

I woke up this morning with the usual heartache; the knowledge that the house is completely silent sits heavy on my soul.

I need a shoulder to cry on and I want it to be his.

Most days it just hurts to breathe.

People will tell you to move on. To where who in the hell knows??? Just move there. It makes them happy.

I just want my life back.

The pain is unbearable…and unfathomable. And to those who say, “I can’t imagine” – yeah, you’re right – you sure can’t. Now count your blessings.

I feel paralyzed. I can't move, can't work, can't think. I feel completely overwhelmed.

Oh, God this is awful. I NEVER knew what real grief meant until now.

Lots of financial turmoil and awful depression, agitation, restlessness...sleeping in weird short spurts when I’m lucky enough to sleep at all … can’t get up, can't work, can't socialize, can't stop these perpetual crying jags.

I think most of my energy is being poured right now into keeping my family afloat. It’s all mine now. The earning-the-money, the paying-the-bills, the housework, the yard work, the shopping, the repairs, the childcare, the decisions, the responsibility. All of it. It’s all mine.

Nobody seems to understand that this was a blow that shook me to my core, and that I simply can't see the world in the same way any more.

Until someone has lived thru what we have, there is no way on earth they can ever understand.

I am trying so hard to be more understanding of the idiotic things others say, telling myself, 'if they only knew'. Others just cannot understand. They simply can't. But someday they will.

You know that empty feeling, right in the middle of your stomach? Yeah, it really is right in my gut to. It’s such a lost hollow feeling. Nothing fills it. Nothing eases it. Nothing makes it go away.

No one knows unless they have been there just how hard and lonely this road is.

I face each day without him. I raise our children without his support and his strength, I hold down a full-time job, and take care of our home all on my own. I am always tired and worn out. And there is never enough to go around. Not enough money. Not enough of me.

All my time is spent on survival.

Although I had lost several close relatives including a parent, nothing prepared me for the complete devastation that losing my husband would do to my life.

I want a life back and I am so afraid that this is what is left for me; fighting to survive, fighting to maintain sanity, fighting just to see the daylight thru the pain.

Survival is all I can do right now. If it weren’t for my children, I would climb in a hole and never come out.

I want so badly for my life to make sense again. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. Well, somewhere other than this group. But I don’t. Not anymore.

There is a void that follows me everywhere, that has now taken the place of my husband. It is now my constant companion.

I feel lost and lonely with no direction. I FEEL LIKE A STRANGER IN MY OWN LIFE.

A Meme That Everyone With Children Should Consider

2007-03-13T18:01:00.000-07:00

The Chaos Mommytagged me for a meme.

Most meme's are fun, lighthearted, getting-to-know-you pieces of fluff. However, this meme has a serious tone to it.

Online pornography is so easily accessible by children, that something should be done. PowerBlogger has a great solution to the question of how to keep so many kids away from this really accessible online porn: "Please require a password-protected login before allowing even free access to explicit adult content. We understand that selling porn is your business and we respect your right to make a legal living. But understand our legitimate concerns and work with us. You already have the “warning adult content” on your websites. Yet kids, who are not legal customers of your product, ignore the warning. So to prevent them from having direct access to explicit images, texts and sounds, the simplest way is to have a password-protected login. No more “free tours” before a visitor supplies basic information."

How can I help? you ask? PowerBlogger simply suggests that we copy and paste the previous statement and post it to all "adult site" webmasters.

We're not asking to get rid of all the porn sites. That would be impossible and since money rules our world, it would just never happen. Too much money in the porn industry. But just make the porn less accessible to children. That shouldn't be too much to ask for.

If you agree with me and Power Blogger, read An Open Letter to Bloggers Around the World: Help Make the Web Safer for Children and consider helping out.

Oh, and I tag Bman and the Tinkto repost this in their own meme.

Ugh - insurance! Gives me a headache just thinking about it!

2007-03-10T06:22:00.000-08:00

About the time I heard about Bush's new healthcare plan proposal, I developed a headache and a frustration that caused me to ignore this issue completely until today.

In brief, Bush's plan is to offer a tax deduction to defray the cost of buying private health insurance, and to offset the cost of this new tax deduction by introducing a new tax on the most expensive employer-based plans.

First, and most importantly, this proposal reveals a deep misunderstanding about the majority of the uninsured. Or maybe not so much a "misunderstanding," as a willful ignoring of reality. People without health insurance are usually completely stressed out about having no insurance. It's not that they need the government to step in and lure them into covering themselves and their families with tax deductions. Many of the uninsured lack coverage because they simply can't afford it, because of a chronic condition or a long ago tiny black mark on their health history, or sometimes simply just because private insurance is damned expensive.

Offering tax deductions doesn't really solve this problem, since you actually need to make a certain amount of money before deductions really start helping you out at tax time. In fact, those who most need help with insurance coverage are those who make so little money that they're probably paying very little in the way of taxes already. And it's not even the very poor who aren't helped much by this plan. Consider an uninsured family making $50,000 a year, compared to a hypothetical family making $150,000 a year. The family making $50,000 still ends up having to pony up $800 a month to afford the average family plan. The family making $150,000 can actually come out ahead under the Bush plan, assuming everyone's healthy.

I don't want to make it sound like this plan is terrible all the way around. For those who are currently self-employed or otherwise responsible for buying their own insurance, this plan at least offers up some tax benefit similar to what those receiving insurance through their employers already receive. And that's no small matter. But it ignores a particularly large proportion of the uninsured population, and it will without doubt make insurance even more expensive for those who need it most: the sick and the uninsured.

Clearly, this proposal is intended to weaken the employer-based health insurance system. This plan doesn't offer much in the way of affordable alternatives to those who are already outside of the system, and it may well end up screwing many who are currently covered, but wouldn't be able to purchase insurance on the open market.

Even more concerning, and a point not being as widely discussed, is that this plan includes some vague proposal to cut funding which reimburses hospitals providing health care free of charge to the uninsured, in favor of redirecting that money at affordable state-run insurance plans. This in essence could end up taking away the very last safety net we've provided in our healthcare system, if poorly implemented.

The condescending attitude taken by so many when discussions of healthcare arise continually astounds and offends me. The question for many is so far removed from the arena of market forces, or "wants versus needs". It's a discussion that takes place on the razor edge between life and death. Many of us already are deciding between that trip to the doctor when ill vs. heat or housing or groceries. Too many treat the uninsured as if we just haven't "explored all their options", or are blowing our money elsewhere and therefore tax deductions will lure us into rearranging our priorities.

We need a healthcare solution that doesn't fix only a small portion of the problem, while simultaneously making life worse for so many. What will I be looking at when the next election rolls around? You can bet that healthcare will be on my list!

Finding me ... a nightly journey

2007-03-03T07:46:00.000-08:00

I can feel it building up … slowly, over many days, it builds to an earth-shaking, ear-splitting creshendo.

There are moments when I feel that the emotions inside of me are boiling and building and growing til they just have to erupt; an expolosion that sends fragments of me flying in every direction.

And I cease to exist, lost in the midst of the splinters of my life.

I can hear the words spinning in my mind, screaming at me to listen. I can feel the pain tearing at my soul, begging for peace. And in my mind, I scream into the darkness.

But here in reality, I hold my tongue. My screams are silent. My pain is hidden. Breathe in. Breathe out. Oh, I hope I can remember to breathe!

Focus. Focus on getting thru one more moment. Focus on taking just one more breath. Focus on finding the calm.

And only when alone, in those quiet times of night, do the tears fall.

As I sit typing, I can feel myself regaining control over my unruly emotions. The pain seems to exit my body thru my fingertips on the keyboard and slowly I find my center again.

My center. Me. There I am.

And I sit back and revel in the fact that I am still here, that my soul has survived.
I am still intact.

Until tomorrow.

Still, I must face tomorrow.

(written in November of 1999, being shared today at the request of my friend Proud, herself a beautiful writer)

My turn to do TWO

2007-03-02T18:22:00.000-08:00

Two Names You Go By:
1. Jona
2. Jonathon

Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now:
1. U of M sweatshirt (GO BLUE!)
2. jeans

Two Things You Want in a Relationship:
1. uh - no
2.

Two of Your Favorite Things to do:
1. reading
2. swimming

Two Things you want at this moment...
1. pizza
2. chips

Two pets you had/have:
1. minature schnauzer named Thelma
2. minature schuauzer named Louise

Two things you did last night:
1. read
2. slept

Two People that live in your house:
1. Me
2. Mom

Two things you ate today:
1. chicken burrito
2. salad

Two people you Last Talked To:
1. Mom
2. Mrs. Cawood

Two Things You're Doing Tomorrow:
1. cleaning my room, I guess
2. reading

Two longest car rides:
1. Kansas City, MO to Port Huron, MI
2. Lansing, MI to Sieverville, TN

Two Favorite Holidays:
1. Christmas
2. Halloween

Two favorite beverages:
1. Sprite
2. Milk

Just for fun: TWO

2007-03-02T05:41:00.000-08:00

Two Names You Go By:
1. ok, now roll your eyes and say it with a teen-aged attitude and an eyeroll : MOTHER
2. Sis

Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now:
1. John's shirt
2. n/a

Two Things You Want in a Relationship: ONLY TWO??????
1. passion
2. commitment

Two of Your Favorite Things to do:
1. being active in the out-of-doors
2. being in his arms

Two Things you want at this moment...
1. to be physically stronger
2. more time spent with the guys I love

Two pets you had/have:
1. minature schnauzer named Thelma
2. minature schuauzer named Louise

Two things you did last night:
1. slept
2. slept more!

Two People that live in your house:
1. Me
2. Jona

Two things you ate today:
1. mac & cheese
2. n/a

Two people you Last Talked To:
1. Jona
2. John

Two Things You're Doing Tomorrow:
1. I have NO idea!
2. ditto!

Two longest car rides:
1. The eight miles to the hospital the morning of my husband's death
2. The same eight miles 4 days later the morning my daughter was born/died.

Two Favorite Holidays:
1. I love ALL holidays
2. And to treat each day as if it's a holiday, as it might be your last.

Two favorite beverages:
1. Water, icy cold
2. Coke

Where are YOU looking?

2007-02-28T12:19:00.001-08:00

Sadness looks back.
Worry looks around.
Hope looks forward.
Faith looks up.

An Urgent Call to PROTECT OUR CHILDREN

2007-02-26T08:33:00.000-08:00

Being shared here on the Closet at the request of a friend of mine, Dawn, who is a wonderful advocate in the movement to protect our children:

Please make sure your friends see this information. It matters.

I am sickened almost to the point of violence by the systematic -- yes, I said SYSTEMATIC -- hunting of children in this country and around the world. Ever heard of NAMBLA (man-boy love association)? They were represented by the ACLU in 2000 (here's a link to a Washington Post story about that case) -- and possibly since, I haven't done the research.We live in a world of shadows. There's the happy, light-filled world we want to acknowledge to the exclusion of evil. And there's the dark, shadow-filled underworld that hunts and preys on our children.

Here's the problem. The bad guys are organized. They have systems. They don't just go out there and act strictly on impulse to quench their evil desires. They hunt and scheme and work hard to find the most vulnerable of our children and then weaken them until they think they are finally ready (the children, that is) to engage in the "prize." Our babies are the prize. Their sexual innocence is the prize.

The bad guys also have lobbyists. Yes, that's right. LOBBYISTS. They are cloaked in other names and operate under different organization's names. But they do exist.Children, on the other hand, do not vote. They do not have lobbyists. They don't have money to use to promote their causes...they only have us.

SO WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT IT ?

As I was composing a note, complete with some links to sites that I think matter , I was looking for a link for NAMBLA. They are a cagey bunch, though -- the evil among us often are -- and don't seem to have an easily found site that just anyone can access. So, totally by accident, I came across this:

Butterfly Kisses:

Here's a little something from their actual site:

Obviously, the information presented here is of an open and frank sexual nature and there is no "tap dancing" around sensitive topics. Hopefully, this will actually be a comfort to everyone because it will present "touchy" subject of female childlove to people to think about, without having to be influenced by sex-oppressed media, religion and governments. The topics discussed, articles/essays posted and the stories/poetry written on this site are different from what society's expectations of women and girls are, and as such this site strives to liberate women and girls from the oppression imposed on their sexuality.

Within the pages of Butterfly Kisses you will find sexual issues and topics of female, and particularly lesbian pedophilia, and some of them will probably make some people uncomfortable. Some people will be pleased and some will be angry. But ALL should make you THINK. Our society needs to learn how to discuss highly controversial subjects without the "knee-jerk" reaction so prevalent today. Many of these topics, if we will just stop over-reacting to them and calmly, rationally think about them, may turn out to be less controversial than we thought. We might even see a side to the issue that we had never considered before, which helps us to better understand the controversy. It is only when we understand the various sides to an issue and are ready to discuss it calmly and rationally, that we can begin to effectively deal with it.

This web site is divided in several different sections to make it easier for everyone to navigate through its pages. In "Speaking Out" you can read about real life stories and about female desires and love for little girls. You can also do your own research into woman/girl love by exploring our "Media Guide" archives or "Library" where you can find many examples of women's attraction to little girls, either written in books, painted on canvas or acted out in the movies.

And here's something else (the legalese they plan to use to defend themselves part) from their site:

The International Female Girllovers Collective (IFgLC) was formed in 2001. It was inspired by the struggle of many women and girls through the years to have their love recognized and accepted by society, governments, religions and the law.

IFgLC's goal is to end the extreme oppression of women and girls in mutually consensual relationships by:
1. building understanding and support for such relationships
2. educating the general public on the benevolent nature of woman/girl love
3. cooperating with lesbian, gay, feminist, and other liberation movements
4. supporting the liberation of persons of all ages from sexual prejudice and oppression

Our membership is open to everyone sympathetic to woman/girl love and personal freedom.
IFgLC calls for the empowerment of youth in all areas, not just the sexual. We support greater economic, political and social opportunities for young people and denounce the rampant ageism that segregates and isolates them in fear and mistrust. We believe sexual feelings are a positive life force. We support the rights of youth as well as adults to choose the partners with whom they wish to share and enjoy their bodies.

We condemn sexual abuse and all forms of coercion. Freely-chosen relationships differ from unwanted sex. Present laws, which focus only on the age of the participants, ignore the quality of their relationships. We know that differences in age do not preclude mutual, loving interaction between persons. IFgLC is strongly opposed to age-of-consent laws and all other restrictions which deny women and girls the full enjoyment of their bodies and control over their own lives.
IFgLC does not provide encouragement, referrals or assistance for people seeking sexual contacts. IFgLC does not engage in any activities that violate the law, nor do we advocate that anyone else should do so.

We call for fundamental reform of the laws regarding relations between youths and adults. Today, many thousands of women and girls are unjustly ground into the disfunctional criminal justice system. Blindly, this system condemns consensual, loving relationships between younger and older people.

IFgLC is a political, civil rights, and educational organization. We provide factual information and help educate society about the positive and beneficial nature of woman/girl love.

Don't believe me? You've got the link. If you have the stomach for it, check it out.See, it's not a gay rights issue. Gays are not child predators. Some child predators prefer to prey on their own gender. Some don't. But that doesn't make them gay and that doesn't make gay people child predators; it's another thing entirely. But part of the lies, smoke, mirrors and subterfuge is to make us THINK it's a gay issue (in the case of this Butterfly Kisses group and NAMBLA and others) -- it's how they try to legally protect themselves. And it's not a women's rights issue -- "we have a right to do as we please with our own bodies!" -- as the above legalese might suggest.

And, by the way, it is NOT a freedom of speech issue -- though they like to hide behind that precious right -- either. That's just one more lie they'd like us to believe.
It's a good vs. evil issue. It's us vs. them. It's our kids -- and the bad guys/gals want them just as bad as we do.

Don't let it happen. Don't let them succeed.And -- as I have been reminded of today -- don't make the mistake of thinking you only have to protect your precious babies from bad "guys." There are plenty of bad "gals" out there, too...if not, this evil, disgusting, sickening Butterfly Kisses site couldn't exist.

So if you really care -- not in an "oh, that's disgusting! I can't stand to hear about this" bury-your-head-in-the-sand kind of a way, but in an "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to ignore it!" kind of way, here are a couple of DECENT sites that can help you get information and take a stand:

Andrew Vachss' (warrior against child predators) site

PROTECT (National Association to Protect Children) site (these good people actually DO lobby for our children!)
What can we do?

Start by joining Protect. They are the only lobbying group that exists for our children and their well-being. If you don't support that, then you're just blowing smoke.

Don't make the mistake of thinking that shutting down a website makes the problem go away. It doesn't stop there. And it claims to be an international site, btw. It's a global problem. But DO report the site to your local FBI.Get -- and stay! -- Vigilant! Teach your children what is and isn't okay. Let them know that there is NOTHING they can't tell you -- and that they won't be in trouble if someone hurts them.Give your kids lots of love and supervision b/c the ones who don't get enough are particularly vulnerable.Keep your computer in a family area, with the screen facing out. No secrets are allowed when it comes to what your kids do on the Net.

VOTE for your children! If you don't know where someone stands -- and what they plan to DO! -- for your children, don't give them your vote. And let everyone know this is how and why you vote.

Be a WARRIOR.

Grief and Loss in Cyberspace

2007-02-23T04:37:00.000-08:00

When I lost the love of my life, I felt as if my own heart had been shredded.

I needed a community to wrap around myself against colder winds than fortune had ever blown at me before. And without looking, I found I had one in the virtual world.

As humans have since words were first uttered, we shared a common human experience, death, with an open-heartedness that would have caused grave uneasiness in physical America , where the whole topic is so cloaked in denial as to be considered obscene.

Those strangers, who had no arms to put around my shoulders, no eyes to weep with mine, nevertheless saw me through. As neighbors do.

Many will find, as I have, a much richer appreciation of physical reality for having spent so much time in virtual reality.

In hopes that you realize that you have "neighbors" right here, who care very much.

Things to do today ...

2007-02-16T12:24:00.000-08:00

Walk in the rain, splash in puddles, collect rocks, smell flowers, blow bubbles, build sandcastles, say hello to everyone you meet along the way.

Go barefoot, go on adventures, go fly a kite, hold hands and hug and kiss, listen to music, dance, laugh, cry, wonder and wander.

Feel happy and safe, embrace your innocence, feel scared, feel sad, feel mad, give up worry and guilt and shame, say yes, say no, and ask lots of questions.

Ride bicycles, draw and paint, see things differently, fall down and get up again, look at the sky, watch the sun rise and sun set, watch clouds and name their shapes, watch the moon and stars come out, trust the universe.

Stay up late, climb a tree, walk in the woods, swim in a lake, daydream, learn new things, be excited about everything, do nothing and do it very well.

Tell stories, save the world, make friends with the other kids on the block, and do anything that brings more happiness, celebration, health, love, joy, creativity, pleasure, abundance, grace, self-esteem, courage, balance, spontaneity, passion, beauty, peace, relaxation, communication and life energy.

Thought for the day ...

2007-02-05T14:36:00.000-08:00

Restoring your soul...

2007-02-01T08:00:00.000-08:00

There are segments of our lives that resemble the pieces of a puzzle: those things that when all put together make us who we are. Every part, no matter how large or small is as elemental as the next. But for each of us there are unique experiences that move us, stir us, give us perspective, provide clarity and speak to our hearts in a way we long to hear.

Sometimes it's music that brings me a sense of joy or peace; sometimes a smell conjures up some sort of comfort or contentment.

And what about visual elements that do the same thing? Like photographs. Or nature. Or the perfect moment in time, the kind of moment that when unexpectedly stumbled upon makes your heart literally skip a beat. Those images that somehow unexpectedly take your breath away. I know that for me, when I come across them it's undeniable.

Where do you seek your soul's restoration?

Square One?

2007-01-19T17:46:00.000-08:00

One of the most often used expressions concerning grieving is "I feel like I'm back to square one". It's like a "hopscotch" of emotions going from one to the other, this "roller coaster ride" of ups and downs. Very often we hear, "I thought I was doing so well. I thought I was past that". We do move ahead little by little, one step at a time. There will be one day you don't cry, then two, then maybe a week or a month.

But then comes the thought or the memory of the wedding you attend, or the birth of a child, or just seeing a happy couple, and Wham! You're back to square one. It hits us like a ton of bricks and the pain is felt all over again. What we are doing is "revisiting square one". We go back there because something triggers the pain we felt at the beginning and we forget what steps have been taken to get to square two, square three and all the steps taken to get to where you are now.

Those of us in Grief Recovery are walking through this together. We don't have to do this alone. We walk together and remind each other that we will get through it, and hold each other up when we "revisit square one". Don't focus too far ahead on the steps that we are yet to take because you'll slip on the one you are on right at this moment. We have no control over their deaths, but we have control over how we accept their death and find ways to learn to live with the knowledge that we must go on with our lives. All of us have been brought together because of the pain; together we can learn to accept, to understand, to reach out to others and to accept from others all the love and support that is given in our group.

Each of us moves forward at our own pace. No one can tell us how fast or how slow to walk or which steps to take, but we can be there for each other to reach out a hand as we take those hopscotch steps and hold on to each other when we fall back for the moment. So when you revisit square one, remember that's where you WERE, not where you are now. Love and pain are the most powerful emotions we experience and grief is pain because of the love. Grief affects our spirit and our health and can consume our every thought.

Face the pain and know that you need to "work through the pain" because hiding or suppressing it does no good. It is a demanding emotion that will surface regardless of how hard we try to run from it. Don't be afraid to let the tears flow. If there were not love there would be no pain and our tears bring healing and cleansing. Don't be afraid to share your fears and your pain with those who have taken further steps than you have. You can gain strength and hope from the many who have learned from "having been there". Listen to the others and they will "tell" you how the fellowship of our network of friends has brought them to a place where they don't fear revisiting square one as they once did. They know now that remembering the pain is a memory of the love and that letting go of the pain is not letting go of the love.

1 9 1999

2007-01-09T18:01:00.000-08:00

"The Man" - his thoughts on my husband

2007-01-07T07:19:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I was going to write something madly profound yesterday, the 8th anniversary date of Don's death. But as Jona shared, I've been feeling a bit punk lately and quite fuzzy-headed. Honestly, I couldn't think my way out of a paper bag, let alone compose some deep thoughtful reflection on these past 8 years without his smile. Strange as it may sound, I've decided to let John "write" today's post, as I share his words from yesterday.

I was resting at John's place and as he bent over to kiss my forehead, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, kissing his neck and whispering suggestive thoughts in his ear - usually a no-fail method, if ya know what I mean. But the normal reaction just wasn't there. John slid his arms around me, gave me a gentle hug and sat down next to me. He smiled and said "you know I love you ... but even if you were feeling well right now, well, not today."

I grinned and teasingly asked if the calendar meant that for the rest of our lives Jan. 6th was just off-limits - I can usually tease John out of a mood quite easily. He held my hands in his and quietly responded "look, I know it's strange but it's just how I feel ... it's like I've gotten to know Don pretty well these past few years and somehow it just feels ... disrespectful."

Ok, so I'm a little stong-willed ... I heard him, I understood him, but as I didn't agree with him I wasn't going to let it go that easily. "Honestly, John ... don't you think that 8 years ago today Don STOPPED caring if anyone else was doing his wife!?!"

That little bit of levity was basically ignored. John gave me an almost-smile and gently shared his thoughts. "Don was a good man. A very good man. And he loved you very much, that's been easy to see all along. I feel like in some strange way his death gave me an amazing gift - and for today, I'm just the caretaker of something very precious; something that in some small way will always belong to him ... now don't get me wrong, I don't feel like this everyday. But for today, when I look at you - no matter how much I love you, you're Don's wife".

Catching up

2007-01-05T06:06:00.000-08:00

We're behind. My Mom and I have been busy and also she's kind of under the weather, so we're behind. So I figured I'd catch us up this morning.

School starts again on Monday. This is good, I've missed it. And swim practice will start up again too, which is good.

Christmas was ok, I guess. I got a new coat, a couple of T-shirts, and some new things for my room - all U of M stuff. John hung out for a while and we played Monopoly. I won.

New Year's was kind of weird. My Mom went to bed real early, she wasn't feeling well. She hasn't been feeling well all week. Doesn't look real good either. Kind of pale and just not right.
And always tired and always cold.

It's kind of weird weather too ... no snow. My Mom's kind of glad, because it makes lots of things easier - driving and no shoveling and lower heating bills. But no skiing either, so that stinks!

Tomorrow it will be 8 years since my Dad died. That sounds like a really long time, doesn't it? But it's not. Not really. I mean, think of 8 years as just a tiny segment of forever. It's not really much time at all.

I'll be blogging once a week. It's my New Year's resolution. My Mom'll have the blog the rest of the time. I haven't been writing much lately, mostly because I've been real busy. But I plan on being here once a week.

I think that's all that's happening right now. Other than I've got to go now, because if I don't have my room clean by the time my Mom gets home I think she's going to kill me!

~Jonathon

Merry Christmas to All!

2006-12-24T09:07:00.000-08:00

I so appreciate all of my friends who stop by to visit. And sadly, I'm aware that some of you are also living with loss in your lives. Although I realize that words are often inadequate, words are all I have to offer ...

When someone so loved is gone from the circle, a time like this can tug at the heart. Quietly, gently may the spirit of the season shine through your shadows and touch your world with warmth and light.

Wishing you peace and love at Christmas!
~Kate and Jona

St. Nicholas in the Forest with Holly: painting from an early 1900s German Postcard

Christmas GIVING found here!!!

2006-12-23T09:52:00.000-08:00

Want to GIVE without having to use your credit card, or any money at all? The parenting advice web community Minti is giving a dollar to the fantastic Starlight Starbright Foundation for every new member that registers. You heard right. And they are aiming to raise $20,000 by Christmas.

What an incredibly generous group, these founders of Minti.
All you've got to do is register at Minti through this link and a dollar will be donated on your behalf.

Minti is about advice, friendship and community for parents. Parents can join for free, get their own family page, keep a blog and make friends with other parents. Advance through the Minti ranks by contributing advice, rating articles and writing comments.

I'm not moving the Closet to the Minti site, but I've been checking out the community these past few days ... and so far I'm liking what I'm seeing. But even if you don't want to be active on Minti, what a GREAT cause! Please register! Thanks!

And the verdict is in ...

2006-12-20T06:52:00.000-08:00

There will be no Christmas tree this year.

Sticky, Sticky ...

2006-12-19T14:49:00.000-08:00

My hands, not my life. Ok, both. Right now, everything is sticky!

My hands, my jacket, and my gloves are sticky - from pine sap! I finished decorating outside, with fresh cut pine boughs all along the porch rails, on the front door, on the garage, and on the mailbox. It looks great, and smells even better! And I brought some pine boughs in and put them in vases ... the living room smells good now too!

Still haven't put up a tree. Not sure if we will this year or not. Guess I'll have to figure it out soon - I'm running out of time!

~Kate

Because Blogger refused to upload photos earlier today

2006-12-12T14:39:00.000-08:00

Father Set High Goals to Memorialize Son

2006-12-12T09:46:00.000-08:00

This past summer John stood on Jerimoth Hill, the highest summit in the state of Rhode Island. His summer trip to New England took him to the highest mountain summits in four other states as well; Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine. John’s goal is to reach the highest summit of all fifty states. Rhode Island marked state number thirty. His quest started almost five years ago and has taken him from Maine to California.

On December 10, 2001, John’s life was changed forever. His 17 year old son Ezra, a senior at Rockford High School, national honor society student, Eagle Scout, lifeguard, and rugby player was killed during a traffic accident on his way to school. “Ezra died five days before my birthday, eleven days before his eighteenth birthday, and fifteen days before Christmas”, John recounts. “I was emotionally, spiritually, and physically devastated.” For weeks John was not able to work, eat or sleep. He knew he could not go on like this, and decided he needed a goal in life. One day while looking at a road atlas he noticed that each state was marked with its highest point. That day he set a personal goal to climb to the highest point in each state in memory of his son; After all, Ezra was always up to a challenge.

Ezra was diagnosed with dyslexia at an early age and had to work twice as hard as most students. Despite his disability he was a high school honor roll student and the top student in an aviation technology program at the Gerald R. Ford Airport in Grand Rapids. He took on the challenge of becoming an Eagle Scout and earned Scoutings highest honor. John’s decision to climb the highpoint in each state was a big turning point in getting back his life back on track.

Not all his summit treks have gone smoothly. Near the highpoint of Michigan he buried his Jeep up to the bumpers in mud. In North Carolina he ruined two tires when he hit a log in the road after a hurricane had blown through. A winter ascent of Mount Marcy in New York resulted in ripping the flesh off his heels after walking over 15 miles with crampons on his boots to reach the summit. The ascent of Mount Whitney in California resulted in windburn on his face from a snowstorm combined with severe sunburn from the sun reflecting off the snow.

Each highpoint is as unique and varied as the geography of the United States. Some highpoints are as easy as driving up to the highpoint and walking a few yards. Others involve strenuous rugged mountain treks requiring camping at base camps to reach summits 12,000 to 20,000 feet above sea level. Highpoints tend to have one thing in common; they are usually located in some of the most remote areas of their state. “Some of the views from the highpoints have been absolutely spectacular”, shares John. Each time he reaches a state summit it has been a spiritual experience.

And he has learned that life is not about how many breaths you take, but living for those moments that take your breath away.

The Lyrics That Prove ...

2006-12-10T16:34:00.000-08:00

That I shouldn't be playing around with my guitar at 3 am:

I miss you, I miss your smile
And I still shed a tear, every once in a while

I miss you, I miss your touch
I can still feel it, just enough but not too much

I miss you, I miss your joy
I still hear your laughter, from our own little boy

I miss you, I miss your songs
I cannot believe you’ve been gone so damn long

I miss you, Oh how I miss you

Message from Santa

2006-12-08T06:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends;

I have been watching you very closely to see if you have been good this year and since you have, I was going to bring you all of the gifts from the 12 days of Christmas, but we had a little problem here at the North Pole.

The 12 fiddlers fiddling have all come down with VD from fiddling with the 10 ladies dancing, the 11 lords leaping have knocked up the 8 maids a-milking, and the 9 pipers piping have been arrested for doing weird things to the 7 swans a-swimming. The 6 geese a-laying, 4 calling birds, 3 French hens, 2 turtle doves and the partridge in a pear tree have me up to my sled runners in bird shit.

On top of all this! Mrs. Claus is absurdly menopausal, 5 of my reindeer are in heat, the elves have joined the gay liberation movement and some idiot who can't read a calendar has scheduled my Christmas delivery for the 5th of January.

Maybe next year I will be able to get my shit together and bring you the things you want.This year I suggest you get your asses down to Walmart before everything is gone.

Love,
Santa

*being shared from my e-mail box - Wow! Santa has my e-mail addy! Who knew???

Grumpy, Grumpy ... maybe I need a nap!

2006-12-06T12:00:00.000-08:00

When did we lose the real meaning of Christmas? When I was growing up, Christmas was commercialized but the main reason for the holiday was still in the forefront. Nativity scenes could be seen everywhere, mistletoe was hanging over doorways, everyone acted a little nicer, and it was about getting closer to the family.

Christmas is about spreading joy to the less fortunate, being extra kind to those around you, and sharing your blessings with friends and neighbors. It’s not about what you buy. Corporate America tries it’s hardest to get us worked up about the latest things. Every message we are sent focuses on what we have, not what we hope; what we buy, not what we believe; what we spend, not what we share. It is easy to lose track of what's really important. Family. Faith. Friendship.

For those who want to debate the origin of Christmas, here is the truth: The Christmas season is a combination of Christian (Roman Catholic) and Pagan winter celebrations. It incorporates Christian religious ceremonies (the event that fills us with so much joy and gladness that we celebrate it each year, with more attention than for any other event; it is the entrance of Jesus Christ into our world. It is the living proof that, "God so loved the world that He gave His one and only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life" -John 3:16) with the traditions of ancient winter festivals such as Yule (the winter solstice celebration of the Germanic pagans) and Saturnalia (the feast at which the Romans commemorated the dedication of the temple of the god Saturn). What emerged after Constantine came into power were religions that had borrowed some rituals and incorporated holidays from each other’s cultures.

The real meaning of Christmas is being lost by groups on the left who think it is 100% pagan and groups on the right that believe it’s 100% religious. It is a weaving of both and therefore both need to be observed. If someone is so easily offended by a Nativity scene or a Star of David or even a Kwanzaa wreath, they should be ridiculed as ignorant and intolerant and be sent on their way!

Christmas is a time to find someone less fortunate than you and give a gift from your heart. It is a time to be with your family. It is a time to reconnect or repair friendships, to give your fellow man a smile and wish them Merry Christmas and if they get offended, they’ll get over it. The changes start with one person and snowball from there. Be that one person who breaks from the norm and remembers what the season is really all about. In the end, it doesn't really matter what you do to have a more spiritual holiday; only that you do something.

As you can see, I'm still looking for my Christmas spirit today.

I'll regret this when I have to get up for work tomorrow!

2006-12-05T22:25:00.000-08:00

I’m having a hard time finding my Christmas spirit this year. I strongly suspect you’ll hear me mention this again, as this issue seems to be popping up almost daily right now. I wish I felt more Christmas-y, I just don’t.

A few weeks ago, I got a call from the director of the local community band. They had gotten my name from the director of an orchestra I played with several years ago. The band was badly in need of an experienced soloist. Yes, I still play, but really only for myself. I haven't "really" played since Don died. When tonight began, I had only practiced with the band once, and with the quartet twice. But it’s somewhat like riding a bike …

Today, the community band performed for 3 large nursing homes. The residents all seemed to enjoy it, and I think the musicians did as well. And the staff at each location thanked us profusely for coming.

No, I really wasn’t in the mood to play Christmas carols. But seeing as I was a soloist in 2 of our numbers as well as part of a featured quartet, I couldn’t very well not attend, now could I? Anyway, it was a good excuse to dress up, so out came the black velvet dress and the ankle strap pumps, dangly earrings, and fur jacket. Trust me, I don’t get to do THAT very often!

I spent the better part of today with the band, playing Christmas carols. We would play a 45-minute set, then pack up and move on to the next location. We played at 4, 5, and 6 o’clock. Quite a hectic schedule, especially considering that our group of 72 was traveling in a caravan of nearly 40 cars! Try parking those in your average nursing home parking lot! And then navigating the icy parking lots in high heels!

As our quartet broke off from the group for a final performance destination, the high heels thing – UGH - 5-inch spikes on an icy parking lot! You can see it coming, can’t you? Took a small slide, didn’t fall but twisted my ankle enough to SNAP THE HEEL OFF MY PUMP! This necessitated a quick trip home to change shoes (and tomorrow I’ll have to drop that one off to have it repaired!) And, being the computer addict I am, I of course took the time to check my e-mail and forward a few messages to friends while frantically changing my torn stockings!

Our quartet performed for the local hospice center. We arrived at 6:58; 2 minutes to spare, which might just be a Christmas miracle considering the side trip home for the shoe emergency! There were a few patients, several family members, and a handful of staff. Our “stage” was a centrally located “living room”.

We softly played the 7 carols we had rehearsed and then prepared to leave when a nurse approached us. “We have a guest,” she quietly explained. “He won’t be with us much longer, doubtful he’ll make it thru the night. He has no family, just a staffer staying beside him. Although we’re doing everything we can, his pain is great – and the music is soothing. Can you stay and play a little longer?”

How do you say no to a request like that? The answer is simple – you don’t. Unfortunately, we had no choice but to softly and gently repeat the same 7 carols, as it was the only music we were carrying. Thankfully our group of 4 is made up of very accomplished musicians who are quite capable of “switching things up” a bit and improvising some interesting interludes. So we continued to play as we were asked. Softly we played long into the night.

And that’s why I’m posting this at 1:30 in the morning, EST, bleary-eyed and weary, my body aching as well as my heart. We played until James left this earth, and then I drove home, tears gently rolling down my face in the icy night air.

From one foot to another

2006-12-03T19:37:00.000-08:00

I have never called a man by the wrong name.

Well, that’s a statement that was true right up until last night. Apparently at a, uh, rather inopportune moment, I called “The Man”, uh well, I called him Don. Umm … Oops!

I didn’t even realize it and, at the time, he didn’t say anything. John just let it pass.

This morning as he held me in his arms, he quietly asked, “Do you know what you called me last night?”

I looked up at him blankly. “No”, I answered.

“You called me ‘Don’”, he stated gently. At that precise moment, I believe I felt my heart actually stop beating.

Carefully, breathlessly, wide-eyed I asked, “I did?” in barely a whisper.

He nodded. “You didn’t realize?”

“No, oh god no! Oh, baby, I’m sorry!

“It’s ok – I sort of thought you didn’t know you did it”

“Baby, when I’m with you, well – I’m with YOU. It’s not like that”

“Kate, it’s ok”, he reassured me again. .

“No, baby, it’s not like that – you’re not 2nd to anyone, never have been!

“Kate, I know that”, he replied. “I didn’t take it that way. It’s ok – it’s kind of a compliment, really. I know what Don was to you and somehow I’m falling into that same category”.

The tears started to flow. Mine, that is. He truly does understand. I am in awe.

“I love you”, he said in that throaty low sexy voice of his. And he held me and reassured me and quietly told me that all is well.

And throughout this entire exchange, his gentle smile never faded. Not even once.

Now serving: foot in mouth!

2006-11-28T17:32:00.000-08:00

So we're out together, the 3 of us together for the first time since the return of "The Man". We go to Spag's for pizza (best pizza in town, and they have a jukebox and a ton of really cool video games).

Got the tunes playin' and Jonathon is giving John & me a hard time about pinball being an "old person's game". We're laughing and joking and teasing each other. I beat both of the "boys" at Galaga & Ms. PacMan, John beats me at pinball (and I join in the teasing about it being an "old person's game - after all, John's 9 years older than I am!) and the guys find some (ick!) deer-hunter game (thankfully not very graphic, the deer simply fall over when shot)

We eat and drink and play and laugh, and it's great!

The bill comes, and John pays with a credit card. The waitress takes the card and sees the name printed on it - she's obviously overheard us call Jonathon by name and turns to him and says "Hey, that's cool - you're named after your Dad!"

For just an instant, all 3 of us freeze. Our eyes dart around the table as we try to gauge how the others will react. I can literally feel the blood drain from my face, more a nervous reaction about how the guys are going to respond than anything else. John drops his arm casually around my shoulders as Jona looks at the waitress grinning and says "Uh-yeah, ok. If you say so!" And we immediately return to normal.

Tonight I am thankful for this small bit of proof of the enormous amount of healing that has taken place.