Badges Earned

I started this blog on Nov 15th and couldn't finish that day so today I will try to finish off what I was thinking.

I always say that I think about things too much. Well the last couple days my thoughts have been on a year ago. A year ago today that day the phone rang before 8 AM and it was my brother. He just put mom in an ambulance. The paramedics weren't sure if she had a stroke or was it something else. So the day began. I was thinking this morning how a girl scout gets a badge for successfully completing a project or task. Well that was the day I got the badge for sitting in the emergency room with my mom alone trying to make decisions I didn't think I would ever have to make. I also got the badge for handing off the responsibility to my sisters while I went to work badge. And I got the badge for the first day of the next 90 days badge.

I know I have said plenty of times that my mom was stubborn and hard headed or as my nephew liked to say she was bull headed. The next few days were very difficult we were told she couldn't safely swallow anything solid or liquid then the doctors told us if we sat with her it was our responsibility so she ate. She gained strength but they never gave us hope. Mom did though. We all did our part. Took turns. That would be the care giving badge which we found has multiple levels. There is the sit with a sick person badge. There is the bring food to the one sitting with the sick badge and the know when it is time to walk away badge. So you can see in just the few days she spent in the hospital my brother and sisters and I have already raked in multiple badges.

I read what I write and the memories come flooding back and some may think then why do you read them. I read them to remember. To remember that we did what we did because that was what mom expected us to do and that we did in respect and honor to her.

Today is now December 20th and last year I was getting the badge to be brave enough to go to Alaska and enjoy my nephew's wedding and see snow for the first time and enjoy the company of friends and family and experience all kinds of new and different things and know that your brother and sisters will take good care of mom until you return home badge.

Over the next few weeks there were more badges to earn for all of us. We each bared the burden and stepped up where we probably didn't think we would ever have to step up before. Of course Christmas was not the same as years past and this year will be different again but we are all learning new responsibilities and mom would be happy that we are all going to get together and that was the most important thing to her. Presents weren't important. It was having her kids and grand kids and anyone else who had no where to be should experience Christmas at mom's house. Most people the first time was a sense of awe. Absolute amazement that my mom she always bought gifts all year and they may have been thrift store, garage sale gifts but she tried to find things that you liked. For me it was always cats and geese. My brother it was always something beer or bottle opener. But there was always something that could be given to the surprise guest that showed up, a can of peanuts or box of candy. Mom always wanted everyone to have something, even if she had nothing.

Sometimes I remember how hard we had it at times and yet she always figured out ways to get us what we needed. And if it meant her doing without that wasn't even a question. In these last few months I have sorted through papers. So many papers. I know some would have just tossed it all but in the process I found an envelope that I had written a note on and left for mom to find in her car. It said,  Have a good trip, do something for yourself. I remembered I had put money in the envelope for her because she never would have taken it from me. I was about 18 years old at the time.

So I have lost track of my badges I have earned but along with each was a lesson. I remember the year my Grandma Helen passed away. She died 26 years ago today. One of my sisters said after my dad had to pay over $600 to fly her home for Grandma's funeral, "all grandma would have wanted was for all of us to be together for Christmas." Well we were. We had her funeral on Christmas Eve. There was not a more appropriate day than that for my Grandmother. I can see her as an usher at church with her white coat on and her Christmas tree pin, which I am now the proud owner of and will wear today for Grandma.

I am the only one not in the picture. I left after the funeral and went back to work. This was taken in front of her house only a few blocks away from where we lived. I see the faces of my cousins and aunts and uncle and right there in front mom. This wasn't her mom. It was my dad's mom and the divorce was still new but my mom knew it was the right thing to do.

Me not being there was a mistake on my part but I have always felt an obligation to the place I work and always had a very strong work ethic which I learned from my father and mother and my Grandmother.
So as these last few weeks pass up until next month when it will be a year since mom passed. I will continue to earn badges for things I thought I would never do, like move my brother into his own house and finish emptying out mom's house. I am also learning to live without her even though I speak of her a lot and probably think of her more. I am learning to decide which things that she loved that I love and how to let go of some of the others. That is a hard badge for me. Letting go badge.

I know this may not seem like the joyous Christmas message you thought but it is a message of giving selflessly as mom did and accept the gifts given because they were chosen with love. And enjoy the time you have with family. You don't know what the next holiday may bring.

Merry Christmas and to all of my angels Mom, Grandma Helen, Grandma and Grandfather Yearout, Aunt Jan, Aunt Mary Jane, Uncle Chuck. I know you will all be enjoying this Christmas together.

Feelings

I have always thought it funny how my brother and I are left handed and my 3 younger sisters are right handed and how different all of our handwriting is. Yet we all grew up in the same house with the same parents and for the most part had the same teachers but we all learned to write differently.

The same can be said for our feelings. We all had the same experiences together as kids but since we were of different ages and stages in our lives when they happened and we look at them differently. One thought that always comes to mind for me is when my youngest sister was born. I woke up that morning and saw on the changing table already set up in my bedroom that there was a box of baby announcements missing. So I got up all excited knowing that my mom had gone during the night to have the new baby girl. I was 7. My brother and sisters they woke up in their rooms and didn't know something was different until they got to the living room and our grandmother was there.

Last night my sister and I went to my mom's to get some things for another garage sale. When I got to my mom's house and walked in, the furniture was moved and the living room was not as I left it I got upset. Not because the things were moved or changed but because I didn't know it had been done. So it was a shock. But that shock unraveled into the feeling that this emotional roller coaster is so different for all of us and one point of view is the stuff has to go and the other is the touchy feely side that I feel.

Feelings a 1974 Morris Albert song. Wo-o-o, Feelings, Trying to forget my feelings of love.
I guess the emotional baggage I have carried my whole life, the very fiber that makes up me again is feeling discounted. That is the thing that is truly upsetting. The things that matter to me that don't matter to others. Which makes me feel like I don't matter. That is not a very nice feeling.

Since I like to know why, I looked up the definition of feelings. An emotional state or reaction. So I read that some neuroscience professor believes that feelings are the brain's way of interpreting and reacting to emotions. After I got home and cried for quite a while my sister called me and she said that this stuff upsets her to but she has to work and puts on her smile and moves on. Well I do to. I try really hard not to let the feelings stop me from living. I am not terminally sad but to some it may seem that way. Just at this time in my life my mortality and the fact that I never had any children and there will not be anyone that looks at my things with the memories I have for my mothers is what really is getting me down.

I watched a movie the other night under the recommendation of my favorite movie buff friend called "Hello my name is Doris". Well Doris and I have had some similar situations in our lives. The movie starts at her mother's funeral you know the one after she has taken care of her mom, her entire life. And her brother brings up the fact that now that mom has passed on Doris there is no need for you to keep that big house and all the stuff in it on Staten Island. They were still at the funeral. He sets her up with a life coach to help her and she goes to visit but isn't ready to part with her mother's things. But her brother seeing the money they could make off the house pushes for the sale. Pushes so much that he brings the life coach to the house one morning unannounced. Which totally devastates Doris. Now this reaction I know. My mother hated change so much when you changed anything for better or worse she hated it. I don't hate that there was a change. I just need to be for warned. Which I think is so that I can prepare myself for the feelings that I have in regards to the loss of my mother and that they are so different from others.

My brother has not been like her brother in the movie. My brother tried and wanted to keep the house. And we all were aware that the things in the house had to be thinned out even if one of us was going to live in the house. So, back to the movie. The part that really got me was when her brother brought the life coach over unannounced and the sister-in-law who has no regards for Doris's feelings just threw her hands up as though Doris is being selfish that this home that was hers not someone elses and she is not ready to change. After Doris throws a temper tantrum the sister-in-law leaves and the brother says, "Doris, I am very disappointed with you." And this is when I felt like Doris and I had a true connection. She says, "You are disappointed in me?" She had taken care of their mother her whole life. He lived his. He went to college and got married. She didn't and that makes her mad and sad. He doesn't knows the things she gave up to do what she felt was the right thing to do.

Well Doris she does clean out the house and sell it. And so are we. There are other parts to the movie but what I have mentioned was the parts I related to. Sally Field portrayed my feelings perfectly.

I will work on my knee jerk reaction that I don't matter to others. And I will try not to worry about life after I am gone.

Look around the Kitchen

I have been reading a book at night for the last month or so, called "The Big House" by George Howe Colt. About the summer house that had been in his family for generations and the last time back before they sell the house.

Well, ironically this summer I saw it on a table at Barnes & Noble and the picture on the cover made me cry. Not that it looked anything like the house I grew up in, but what memories that 100 year old house must hold. Tonight I read from a page saying how there are things setting places that basically because they were not moved they were left and became part of the house. A simple shell sat on the mantle was an example or even a book used in place of a caster missing from a piece of furniture. Once they are there they become familiar and they stay. Just that sort of thing was the old dining room table that we used as kids until the family out grew it and mom bought a new one on clearance at JCPenney. The old table didn't get sold or thrown out. It was moved to a place where it could be used when we had extra people over or a breakfast table on the enclosed back porch. But over the years mom would bring home little animal statues and and baskets and rocks got carried in or shells and they ended up on the table. It has been years since the table served food. The table has a whole new purpose. It was the place to drop your stuff when you came in the back door or the place the ash tray sat that mom used outside. The ashtray is an old black plastic ash tray that has a notch broke on it and she had asked me years ago to replace. I bought her two new ash trays. Don't know where they are but I guarantee they have never been used and the broken black ash tray continues to be used daily by my brother. See I understand the kind of nostalgia that causes that sort of thing to happen. Why use the new one the old one is working just fine. Same goes for just about everything I look at in her house.

I have written about sorting through things and laughing at things that we have found. I wish we could have done this while mom was alive. I wish she could have enjoyed the memories. But I know just like with me the memories are hard to part with. I know there are things that are gone that mom wouldn't have gotten rid of just because they had been there so long. And this is where I try to sit those things out and see them when I go in and out and to help me either remember the memory that goes with that thing or carry out the door and use it in my own house. Like I have said before I brought home a couple measuring cups. I got rid of my plastic ones and now I have to look to find the glass ones but I have used them and will continue to use them. I am going to do the same with some of the serving spoons mom had or a spatula. I know we have spoke of mom's love for measuring cups but I am pretty sure I never mentioned her love for early 20th century kitchen utensils.

Do you have a butter cutter? I know mom has at least two and one will be coming to my house. Do you have serving spoons with wooden handles or Bakelite handles? I bet I could find at least 3 meat grinders fully intact in the kitchen and at least that many rolling pins if they haven't already found their way to someones house. I could go on and on. Oh I know we just found them, nut crackers and picks. Mom had enough that everyone could have their own for when we had crab for dinner.
The drawer next to the stove is double the size of a normal kitchen drawer and it is so heavy you have to put your hip into it to get it to close and you have to shuffle things around to get them to settle back into place. Once the drawers were all full she took to buying plastic storage drawers which she had at least four on the counter holding the utensils that wouldn't fit in the drawer by the stove.

I would like to say those were the only unusual things in the kitchen but I did not mention the flowered wall paper on the ceiling that was there when we bought the house, Never came down because well it was there and we are all used to it after 40 years.

Will the next person say, "oh my god?"
Yes, and they can take the time to remove it. While they are in the kitchen they will probably want to remove the blue paint that is on the wall behind the refrigerator. When I was about 25 mom went away for Thanksgiving weekend and and the 5 of us decided we would surprise her remove the blue paint from the knotty pine cabinets and walls. Well this was more than a long weekend project but we did remove 80 percent of the blue paint but the remnants of that weekend are still on the wall. Mom was mad that we started, mad that it didn't get finished. Just plain mad. But it was one of those things she had talked about doing since we were kids.

Okay one last thing in the kitchen. The pictures on the refrigerator. I guess it kinda started with the grand kids, A picture of Timmy here a picture of Alex there. Oh every one's favorite Alex picture going down a slide at McKay Park on Mandalay, Smile as wide as the slide. Yellow side, blue shorts and shirt. See it is all here. Not the picture but the memory of it on the fridge. The funny thing is Alex always know as the Angel. Always reminded to keep her halo on straight. Mom would tell her things like that is okay to do with grandma but you really shouldn't talk like that to other people. Mom would spoil all of them bad but Alex she got a lot of mom's attention. So Alex would count how many pictures on the fridge were her versus her brother and when Emily, Ashley and Paul came along well it was an all out war. The kids would see whose picture got a prominent location on a refrigerator that was covered in photos. They would count how many on the front and how many on the side. I would be lucky to be in one family picture and one picture with me and Brian from New York.

Well, I am glad I could show you around the kitchen. And have preserved the memories for those that will come after me.

Pushing On

There is an old saying: somethings never change. But I have recently found the things you think will never change will. So it seems the sadness ebbs and flows and that doesn't end either, but I am learning to live with it. Today I took another step, I talked to someone about my mother's books. I have thus far not been willing to let others in to buy anything direct from my mother's house. My sisters have told me multiple times it would be easier but I feel as though it would not be easy for me. My sisters and brother have nudged me along to make progress and sometimes I have to step back and re-group because they are pushing on. I too will push on.

So if you have never been in my mother's house the bedroom my brother used as a kid became her tv room and library. One wall is floor to ceiling cook books and two other walls have book shelves that run the length of the walls about 3 feet high with books and in a couple places those book shelves are 2 deep not books but complete book shelves. Then there is her bedroom which has I think 6 book shelves that are 6 ft tall each again all books. And just for good measure she has one more shelf in the front hallway next to the front door full of children's books. So to say the least mom liked to read. We have already gotten rid of quite a few boxes of romance novels my grandma's favorite that mother would also read but her favorite was the westerns. Her Louis L'Amour books. At the end she gave away some of the Louis L'Amour books she wanted others to see the scenery she had scene through his words. Even I have one laying next to my bed and one of the girls that helped take care of mom carries one with her all the time. I hope mom has gotten to meet Louis L'Amour in heaven and she can hear the stories first hand now.

Back to the books. So I found a bookstore that when I walked through the front door of this old house I said to the man behind the desk. I think you are going to be able to help. He said, "with what?" I explained the situation and that his store looked like my mother's room that she spent most of her time. He was so kind and I finally said yes. That he could come and look at the books. He said he will bring everything he needs and for me to call next week so we can make arrangements for him to come over. I of course looked around and we spoke of books and he said my mother had been a good influence on me and my interest in history and books. And yes. I walked out with a book. A Marjorie Rawlings book South Moon Under.

Since I was already down in St. Pete I thought I might as well eat lunch at mom's favorite place down there. Fourth Street Shrimp Store another old Florida place. I had fried shrimp and fried clams. It was so good I brought another home for my brother, Al.

On the way back to her house I thought of what I need to do before someone can go through the books. I need to pick out a few that I want and then that moment of being overwhelmed by the sheer number of books. I know at one point she had counted and she had like 800 cookbooks. When I got to the house I stood and looked at the room and just couldn't even move. The first book I see and everyone else is one that the cover faces out, A Flower Grows in Ireland by Ron Wilson. I never knew why but it was the last book her sister Jan read before she died. She got it on her last trip to Ireland. I don't know if mom ever read the book but I know it is not being sold. It will find a place in my house. I only know this piece of information because about a year ago in preparation for mom going home from rehab my sister Beth helped me clean that room and when we straightened up the books that book was moved and mom had a fit as only she could have and the book was put back where it had been for well  more than 20 years and where it sits now because even knowing that I am going to take that book home I couldn't bring myself to remove it from the shelf.

So again, I went back to her bedroom to make sure the shelves back there were accessible and tried to figure out how to get more light back there so that the man from the bookstore can see what he he is looking at. But within the next few weeks the room that has been pretty much untouched will to be disassembled in the name of progress. It is the same feeling I felt when my sisters packed up some of the things from the living room for that my brother wants to keep. In my head it makes no sense not to touch the things that must be touched. I know I would rather do it myself than have someone else do it for me. As it was in the beginning I must make way for change and push on.

Sharing something personal

I am not sure how to start. Sometimes I realize things I deal with in my head I don't always deal with out with the rest of the world. Today one of those items came up.  As a 20 something I had yet to find the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with and when I married at 31 I thought now is the time. Brian and I had been together for 5 years at that point and it was time we have a family of our own. Well surprise, surprise, surprise. It doesn't actually work that way. Of course not. Now I know some people put the kid before the marriage, or maybe the kid didn't come from the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with, or you came along after the kid and you welcome that child as though they were your own. I know people that fall into all of these situations. They all ended up with something I did not. A family of my own.

Yes, I know Brian has always been mine to raise. And yes, I have always had plenty of other people relying on me to take care of them. But you know whenever I hear the good news that someone is going to have a baby it has almost always been a bitter sweet moment for me. I really am happy for you and your new bundle of joy. But there is a part of me that is so sad that it is hard for me to put into words. I have a tendency to say something that is taken wrong and well then no one is happy with me. 

When my oldest niece was born I learned to crochet so that I could make a baby afghan for her. She was born just a few years after my Grandma Helen had passed away and grandma had always crocheted. She was literally crocheting when she passed away. My youngest sister has the afghan she was working on and until riddled with termites I had the chair that she crocheted in. Grandma after making afghans for her sixteen grandchildren then her children she made them for preemie babies at the hospital along with booties and hats. A friend of mine taught me to crochet a trick in itself, because I am left-handed and for a rightie to teach me I had to learn by facing her so it was like learning through a mirror. That started a life long tradition of me making afghans for everyone I know that has a baby or a grand baby. 

I have had a few opportunities to be included more than your average in the process for some friends. I had a friend that had two kids before getting remarried about the same time Brian and I got married. She got pregnant and she had some unusual complications along the way but she and I talked on the phone while she was having contractions early and bored in the hospital. Her daughter is going to graduate from high school this year. What a beauty. I did not see that little girl often but I was always the one who would play Barbie with her or whatever else she wanted to do. Soccer games and all.  As she got older she was less excited to see me show up but to this day I want to spend time with her when I am at their house. 

When two of my sisters were pregnant we spent time together preparing the babies room. We shopped for materials and cut and sewed curtains and bed bumpers and sheets and blankets in whatever color they desired. Those were some really fun memories. Winnie the Pooh and Flower power and even sports for my nephew. 

But each time someone would tell me they were with child again I step back and reflect on all the experiences I never had. I know there are plenty of parents that would love the freedom I have and to them their hum drum daily grind are the magic I regret not having. 

I have come across a few women that for one reason or another like I never had children of their own. Both of these women I would say are two of the most successful women that I know. I know I have gone to both of them in tears and they have shared similar feelings. And I am sure that my melancholy personality doesn't help with the sadness. Both these women I respect so much. One I can tell you has always treated her nieces as though they were as good as her own. And I have always tried to do the same with my nieces and nephews. I would want them to know they could always come to me. 

I love being their aunt. It is definitely a job I was cut out for. The last couple years I have taken the younger ones on short little trips trying to expose them to things they may not have had a chance to do with their parents. A little nature, a little history and definitely a little fun. But as the kids get older they to will slip away. My oldest nephew will be 30 this year. How can that be? But he has grown into a great adult just like his sister. Everyone finds their own way in life and these kids are now adults and finding their own. But as they slip away into their own lives I am reminded again that my life didn't work out the way I expected. I always counted on having kids that was going to be the thing that was going to get me to lose weight chasing around kids. Well now I just get tired trying to keep up with my nieces and nephew.  I have nieces and a nephew on Brian's side of the family as well and they are now all adults and don't get to see them often but they are also finding their own way for their own lives. 

As I get older so do my friends. Now my friend's kids are getting married or starting families of their own. And now my friends are becoming grandmothers and  again I am reminded of my down falls. I still make afghan blankets for these peoples children and yet when I go to the baby shower. It is hard for me. When the baby comes I am happy for you and proud of you as you find your way to raise your own child but know that my tears are not disappointment but pure sadness for myself. 

I am looking forward to being the best aunt ever for the rest of my life and for multiple generations.

So if you are fortunate enough to be my niece or nephew. Whether I see you regularly or not please know that I am always here for you. And would do anything I can to help you. All you have to do is ask. I love each and every one of you if I don't get to see you or talk to you all the time. Know right now I am thinking of you.

Farewell Charles Osgood, Enjoy Retirement.

This morning was the last Sunday Morning that Charles Osgood will be on CBS Sunday Morning.

Charles has been the anchor of the program for the last 22 years. I have enjoyed this show for most of my life. Mom would call and say, "turn on Sunday Morning you have to see the next story." Well in more recent years there were times that I have called her and said to turn on the show. Ironically Brian's parents also enjoy a Sunday Morning with Charles Osgood. Through the years deciding weather to go to church or watch Sunday Morning is a hard choice. But thanks to the dvr and replays later in the day you can now do both.

Still I enjoy it the most to get up and have breakfast with Charles. Prior to Charles Osgood was Charles Kuralt. I loved Charles Kuralt for his "On the Road" segments. He even wrote books about traveling the back roads of the country. I can still hear his voice in my head. Such a resounding voice. I am so jealous of all the places he has been and spending enough time in a place to get to meet a local or two and share their story. Which years later another journalist Steve Hartman, who also does a segment on Sunday Morning called "On the Road". Steve also had a segment  "Everyone has a Story", he decided where he would go by throwing a dart at a map at the end of each weeks segment and that would be the town he would go to the following week. He would then go to a pay phone booth and open the book and randomly select a name. He would interview this random person and tell their story. I thought how inspiring. If you only take the time to sit down and learn about a person you will walk away a better person.

Back to Sunday Morning. News, Weather, Art, Theater. It is like opening up the New York Times Sunday edition and reading the whole thing. When I worked at Eckerd back in the day we sold the Sunday edition and we would get it in two segments and I loved to read through the Art and Entertainment.

So if you watch the show you would know that Charles Osgood was know for his snappy bow tie and clever wit. He always had a song to sing and rhyme for the time. So when I heard he was leaving I thought I would take a stab at his wit and write a poem that would truly fit. I emailed it to CBS and watched his final show but no they didn't use my rhyme so I thought I can share it on my own.

So Hail and Farewell to Charles.

Many Sunday’s we have spent together.

You sharing the news and the weather.

Wearing a bow tie each week.

Me sitting by listening to every word you speak.

Introducing all of the segments.

 Along with their correspondents.

I can hear you say their names aloud.

Hartman, Giles or even Geist.

On the Trail or On the Road.

A pause for a Passage or Remembrance.

Postcards from Oklahoma to China.

Or an update from Our Man in Paris.

Music and Movie reviews from David Edelstein.

Or a Commentary from Ben Stein.

Review the Calendar for the week to come.

Entire issues dedicated to Technology and Money

Or Architecture, Design and Fashion.

What is next on Face the Nation.

Last but not least the Moment of Nature.

Scenic wonder from anywhere at all.

Showing us the beauty of summer, winter or fall.

Thank you Charles for all our Sunday Mornings.

I have always enjoyed the show.

And in closing, I will continue to see you on the Radio.

The last few months

Over the last few months I have stopped and started more posts than I have probably started and stopped in the entire life of me writing this blog. Most of the time when I write it is a one and done. But lately I can't put the thoughts together the way they normally flow so I stop and think I will finish that thought tomorrow but the next time I sit down to write the thoughts don't fit or I can't finish so I start again and again and again. So after talking to a friend today at work I thought maybe I would combine them into one post and share some of what I have been going through. I was telling this friend at work about the other night when I was looking over a dining room table full of measuring cups that my sisters pulled down from the top cabinet and washed and sat out for us to decide which we wanted to keep and which we were going to part with. While this was going on I kept looking at the table overwhelmed with memories. My sister Beth said what is the matter, do you want them boxed up, do want the table cleaned off before we leave. I just kept looking at the sea of measuring cups. I decided to share what I was going through. I picked up a thick glass measuring cup and said, "mom used to use this measuring cup to measure powdered laundry detergent when we were kids." I picked up a pitcher and said, "mom used to make Donald Duck frozen orange juice in the pitcher." My mom would save bacon fat in the refrigerator in a one cup measuring cup. These are not memories I think about everyday. These are memories that came flooding back when I saw the measuring cups. My friend at work thought it was great that I have memories attached to the items but by seeing the items it brought back all these memories. There was a set of holiday glasses from Long John Silver from back in the 1990's. I asked Beth if she knew why mom saved them. She said, "I know it has something to do with me but I don't know." I first said that they were from Long John Silvers and mom knew that when Beth met her husband when he worked there. So my mom thought it would remind them of when they first met. They were washed and Beth took them home.

4/20/16 Four days before mom's birthday.
So this is a quick start after watching the end of the movie Wild and a shower so it is kind of a before the hot water runs out and before I have to go to work. I have been reading Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, a book about his youthful years in Paris writing and living this poor Parisian life but rich with friends and living. And then over the last few days I have watched the movie Wild. I had to break it in half because I started to late one night to watch the whole thing but I found that the movie was based on a book written by a woman Cheryl Strayed. Over the last few days I have read about her because seeing the movie which is based on a portion of her life after her mother died and she decided to walk the Pacific Crest Trail. Something both her and Hemingway say is that they have to work to write. She thought she had something in her and thought it would write itself and Hemingway speaks of how he has to train to write. Which is what made me decide I had to write even if I only have 20 minutes. I will finish tonight. But just like walking a trail or writing a novel you must walk. Put one foot in front of the other. And even if I only can take 5 steps and have to go to work at least I walked those 5 steps and I will take 5 more tonight and it may take a long time but if I don't start I can never finish.

I also realized this morning after the movie that her loosing her mother and I losing mine is not the same. She was much younger and her mom was my age. Her mom thought she had so much more life and always looked at the positive side of whatever happened. She was happy she came out on the other side.

4/22/16 Two days before mom's birthday.
Today I did some things that I have been promising myself that I would do and now they are done. I don't feel relieved or that a burden has been lifted. I still feel the same. I have more tasks just like this that I am going to have to do and I don't think they are going to make me feel better either. I don't really know what will. But on the way down to the beach today I was listening to the radio and heard the song "Landslide" by Stevie Nicks. It was an acoustic version but the words made me cry. People see me in the car and think there is that lady crying again in her car.

But at the beginning Stevie Nicks says something like this is for you Dad. Which made me think what I was about to do. This is for you mom. Hope I am doing the right thing. So the song talks about a child handling the changes in their life, Life is always changing. I feel like once I get through a change the next one is lining up to wack me in the back of the head. I question my ability to handle all of the changes in my life. I see people with bigger problems and wonder why can't I handle my issues as well as they do their's? Why is everything such a big deal to me? Why can't I shake some of these things off and move on?

And then the next line of the song says it all, " I've built my life around you." I see everything I have ever done for my mom, all the doctor appointments, all the trips to the bank to the grocery store. All the times she asked me to be the grown up when I wasn't and all the times as an adult that I have just wanted to crawl into a cave or walk away from whatever trouble that I didn't want to deal with or felt I can't handle. Maybe part of it was facing that one day I would be facing just this. Her death and whatever comes next. Do I want to be like her after her mother died? Do I want to sit in the house and smoke cigarettes and drink coke and fade away? Deny that there is anything wrong and hope it will get better by seeing a doctor but changing nothing. In someways that is exactly what I do. I want to lose weight but I make minimal changes and then cry that they don't make a major difference. Is that my landslide? I see the scene of I "climb the mountain and turn around". Do you see my reflection in the snow covered hill, well the landslide brought me down. When I heard that part I see her walking away and turning back for one last look but I can't bring her back down. Not even a Landslide can bring her back down. And which her do I get the sick bedridden mom or the one that still has a chance to make a change. Maybe that is what I cry for I need to make the change. I need to do it and no one else can. Maybe I only cry because mom is gone but I cry for myself because if I don't change will the landslide bring me down.

4/30/16 A little break from all the sadness.
Today Brian and I attended the second game in round two of the Lightning playoffs against the New York Islanders. For future readers the Lightning won, 4-1. We sat in the 5th row on the goal end that the Lightning defend twice, thanks to Brian's friend Arnold who had to work. The excitement of a live hockey game is amazing and I think even if you don't know much about hockey you could enjoy a live game.

Maybe a week or so ago I was on my way to work and heard a Lightning commercial on the radio and thought, they have the best advertising gimmick ever. The Lightning ask the listener to "Be the Thunder". You can't have Lightning without Thunder and no Thunder without the Lightning. Great game and a great afternoon.

5/27/16 Take a break.
A little rest for the weary is always good so one week of vacation down. Visited the In-laws and enjoyed some nice cool weather. Road a train and took a bus tour. Listened to some folk music and some poetry. Even read out loud a few things I have written. Enjoyed all of it.

Really enjoyed the folk music by a guy named David Wiseman. He is very clever. Or maybe I just think so because I get his sense of humor. He said during his performance the three cords and the truth will get you a good folk song. Well from what I could tell he has a good thing going. He sang words that made you listen because he was telling you a tale. It may not have been his story but it was a good story none the less.

So then that same evening I went along with Brian and his parents to hear a open mic poetry reading. I told the lady that owned the tea shop that I liked to write and she encouraged me to come back and bring something to share. Well I took two things. The poem I wrote For the Love of Lilly and A Day at the Beach with Mom something I wrote while sitting with mom. Very nervously I signed up and one by one I heard people read and recite poetry that they had written. I am not sure why the world enjoys watching CNN because listening to these people brought tears to my eyes it was so beautiful. I can't understand why people don't look for that beauty. It is out there.

7/5/16 One step forward a few years back. 
A busy day off today. I took a step. A big step for myself. I took some of the items from my mother's house to an auction house. The people were very nice and explained how it works and it wasn't horrible which I thanked them for it not being awful. That seems strange but even small steps are hard and I feel like I can do this again. Bring them more things and let them go. I am not letting go of everything but it is a start.
Later this evening I read at an event in St. Pete at a small art gallery. Again the people there made it better. I read the Day at the Beach with Mom and had some trouble making it through with out pausing to compose myself. But the round of applause when I was finished I am not sure if it was for what I had written or for the bravery to stand up there in front of maybe 30 or 40 people and cry. The reassurance I received afterwards was reward enough for my bravery. A woman spoke of her mother's death years ago and that she wished that she would have written about her when it was still fresh in her mind. And another person took the time to tell me that mom would have been proud of me. I hope so.
Some big steps for me when lately I have not been feeling my strongest. I am putting plans in place and am ready to keep moving forward.
When I am going through things at the house I just keep thinking in my head. Do I love this?  Billie and I were going through more clothes yesterday and it is funny we had 3 piles sentimental, garbage and retro. Mom always saved her clothes from the 60's and there were some from the 80's that were clearly our clothes as kids but she held on to them. The sentimental pile was not as big as some would think 3 or 4 things. I don't think I will keep them but still not sure. And that takes me back to the do I love this. Not did mom. Not does someone else but me. This is making it a little easier on some items.
While going through things we found 2 t-shirts that we painted Happy Anniversary on for our parents 11th wedding anniversary which I would have been 10. It is funny, I think my sister Beth had to have made the one because listed under all of our names was Pooh Bear. It was in the sentimental pile. The retro pile I will wash and see if I can find a retro store that might be interested. The idea of selling it to someone that specializes in the stuff makes me feel like mom saved the stuff like a bank acct and because it held some value to her. She just never got around to letting someone else enjoy it after her.
So the roller coaster ups and downs well maybe not roller coaster maybe sometimes it feels like the tea cups. But I keep pressing on trying to make progress I can see what I have gotten rid of and there are plenty of things to spill out of closets and take the space of the the things I have removed.

8/1/16 A break with the kids.
So had a great weekend with Brian and my youngest nieces and nephew. Took them down near Punta Gorda to go on a snorkel trip. Some of us had never done it before but everyone did great. Everyone had a great time and saw all kinds of cool stuff.

This is one of those days that as we drove home I kept thinking I would really love to tell mom how good the kids were and how much fun we had. How we swam in the pool and went out to eat and how they all behaved and everything else about today. Swimming, snorkeling and seeing a dolphin and all kinds of living creatures under the water. Some might argue she was there with us sitting on the boat enjoying the sun for the afternoon. Hanging out with the Captain watching all of us swim and call out to her what we were seeing. The kids may have even brought some of the coolest things over to the boat to show her. She would have loved the birds and the boat and even eating lunch afterwards at Leverocks. She would of loved being with the kids.

If you stuck with me through this whole post you have been on the ups and downs. I have made forward progress but every once in a while I take a step back and have a set back but at the end of the day I know there is a goal and it will be accomplished.

Reading and Writing and Stuff

So back in April I wrote a post about being Sentimental or is it Sediment. I just finished re-reading it and well. I wish I could say that my position on the subject had changed or that I have found the answer or seen the light. I have not. I am still wrestling with the stuff and the memories. Now I am not saying that we have not gotten rid of more stuff. A total of 11 bags of clothes have been donated and about 4 thrown out which is amazing considering the lady only wore about 3 outfits. And I am not talking kitchen garbage bags I am talking 30 gallon outdoor trash bags. Since then I have taken some 10 boxes of stuff to an antique auction and am still waiting for the results of how that has done. So stuff is going away. Craigslist has not been the help I thought it would be to get rid of some of the furnishings but I am going to post the items again. Now that it is time for kids to go back to school maybe some first time apartment owner could use a dining room table and chairs or a bookshelf. I could only hope that they would also want the books on the shelf as well but I doubt we will be that lucky.

The thing that I have kind of morphed my thoughts of my mom's stuff and her memory to me and my stuff and the memory of me. If mom's stuff doesn't matter to others than neither will mine and I have devalued myself to a place I would prefer not to be. There are things that the memories are so strong when I look at in her house and I think no one is going to look at anything and hold me that dear. I will give the strangest example: My mom had a cat years ago that would pee on anything to mark it. So to keep the cat from peeing on mom's shoes she used to pick them up and sit them on a dining room chair. Well the cat died years ago but mom always continued to pick up her shoes and sit them on the chair. And after she passed I noticed one day the shoes sitting on the chair and I thought to pick them up and throw them out. And then I looked at them. Hmm. I see them in my head right now and the tears are running down my face. It is just a stupid pair of deck shoes but I swear if they are tossed now I would be so upset. It has been suggested to me to take a picture of them to remind me of her habit. I know I am not going to bring the chair and the shoes to my house to sit in my dining room. I will end up getting rid of them but for now they sit there.

So my own new found personal lack of value is a self destructive thing that I know is just over thinking the whole thing. But the great thing about my brain is I just don't let go of it. The thoughts sit in my head and get stirred around within my daily thoughts and now I found myself wishing for happier thoughts and brighter days.

I am hoping by writing these things down that I can let them go. I have thought them they are of no value to me and now they can be gone. I am going to say on a positive note that even though I have not posted anything recently I have written some. Still not finished with a poem that I carry in my purse just in case the thoughts to complete it all come together one day when I am not near pen and paper. But I also have attended a reading of fiction and non-fiction at an art gallery in St. Pete. It was very nice and I did read the piece I wrote for mom. Yes, I cried but when I was done the lady in charge said that mom would be proud of me for reading it. And another lady said she wished she would have written after her mother passed. So over all that was a good experience and I would like to write something new between now and September when there will be another reading event. Something a little less close to my heart even though that is where the writing comes from so I doubt I can distance my heart from my writing.

Well the sun is starting to come up and I feel a little bit better. I have shared a memory or two and spilled more tears and of my guts than I probably should but I will head back to bed.

Hear is to happier days.

Let the Tour begin

Today is not the sit down and write the entire post in an hour kind of day. This one takes a week but here goes. I began on July 2nd the first day of this year's Tour de France. In my mind I see my mom singing,"it's the most wonderful time of the year." Mom loved the  Tour. She loved the scenery and she would watch each days events each time they were broadcast. For 21 days she would call and say we should watch and see the castles and the sunflowers or the lavender fields. Or we should see the elaborate display of a bicycle made of hay and how the farmer makes the wheels turn with their tractor. The views from the helicopter are always amazing. Brian likes to see them crash.
Today as I watched I thought how I have learned a little French from watching the tour. The word peloton, which is french for ball but in cycling it is the main field of riders. Another phrase I thought of was Maillot Jaune, or in English the yellow jersey which is worn by the leader of the race, which can change each day or stay the same for days or weeks at a time.

I have often wondered if watching street side would be as fun as mother found it to be watching on tv. I thought many times about it but when mentioned she never seemed interested in actually going to France but part of me would like to experience it for her.  Experience the people of the Basque region (southern part of France that boarders with Spain runs along the Pyrenees Mountains), The people of that region always wearing orange which I have learned is the color of the telco company. And the people are referred to as the "orange crush". They line the top of the mountain stages and get so close to the riders I am always afraid one will be hit. They always talk of how these people have been up on top of the mountain some waiting for days for the riders to get to that stage. To say some of these fans are crazy would be an understatement but it always makes for an interesting day.
The down hill trek can sometimes be cold and to keep warm the riders will grab a newspaper from a bystander and stick it under their jersey. It keeps them warm as they are heading down hill at 40 miles per hour. If you are interested next week they should be riding through this area and you will see how fun loving the Basque people can be.

So far this week mom's favorite rider Mark Cavendish has already won 3 stages. Not sure why mom liked him other than he was from the Isle of Mann in Britain and my brother had friends from that same place, A place known for the motor cycle races which I have also watched at my mother's urging. Mark has now won 29 stages over his career just in the Tour. He wins the stages in the last seconds which could be why she liked him. One win this week a photo finish that was so close but the day before he lost by just that close as well. That does make for an exciting end to a 100 mile ride. He is in the front of the peloton with his lead off men that will drop off one by one after they have pulled him up close to the front and kept the pace for a while then in the last mile as the rest have faded Mark and a few other sprinters will do what they do best. Race like crazy for the finish line. Good Luck for the rest of the race Mark. Mom is watching and cheering you on.

Mom also liked the commentary on the race the two Englishmen that call the race point out the interesting sites and explain parts of the race that people outside the bicycle world may not understand. One example they would refer to is a Natural Break. It is truly a pee break along the road. The cameras will divert our eyes to more scenic things during the natural break but yes the riders do pause along the way. Mom's favorite commentator Bob Roll, an American cyclist from the US 7-Eleven team from back in the 1980's who road along with the likes of  Greg LeMond who was the first non-European to win the Tour de France. Bob is known for his witty commentary and they have a segment called Ask Bobke which you can submit your questions about the race and he will answer. I to find him to be quite fun and would like to meet him.

Along with the Tour I thought about the things she liked that she shared with us like bacon. BLTs were a Saturday staple at her house but both Billie and I can tell you we never have bacon at home. But would look forward to going down to her house and eating BLTs for lunch. Was it because that was just something to share at mom's or would it maybe not be as good at home. Yes I am crying over the thought of a BLT or the smell of bacon cooking at mom's.

I am going to continue watching this weeks tour and maybe next Saturday have a BLT with Billie and continue to enjoy the Tour as she would have. Au Revoir for now.

A Day at the Beach with Mom

So that contest I entered in March they announced the winner and it was not me. That is ok. Gave me the opportunity to write something new and I had the time and was not sleeping so I wrote. Now I read it back and I can feel that time and see myself sitting there with mom in the middle of the night. In case you are interested in the winner submission I have added a link to the page.
http://www.fla-keys.com/flashfiction/

Here is my submission to share with the rest of the world.

A Day at the Beach with Mom

    A young girl stands at the edge of the water and sees the sand and water, the blue sky and shells along the beach.

    That same girl comes back to the spot as a teenager she not only sees the sand and water but she feels it between her toes. In the blue sky she sees the white wispy clouds and feels the sharp edges of the shells in her hands.

    As a young woman she stands in that same spot feeling the warm water at the edge of the shore and the sand between her toes. The sky is still just as blue and the clouds as wispy. She smells the fresh air and hears the birds and the sharp edges of the shells are beautiful.

    The woman now middle aged stands along the same shore, loves the sand and water mixing between her toes. The blue skies, wispy clouds and fresh air seem much more intense than when she was young. The beautiful shells holding live creatures she tosses back in the water to ensure their safety. She knows the beauty she has held in her hand is forever in her heart. The birds direct her eyes out in the water to the boats passing by. Do they miss what I’ve seen my whole life or is the view just as beautiful from out there?

    Now an old woman it is much harder to get through the sand to the shore but that feel of the sand and water mixing between her toes is still as it has always been but now the clouds are harder for her to see in the sky and the fresh air brings a tear to her eyes. The shells colors and edges are not as sharp as when she was younger, she cannot toss the shells as far back as before but her heart still thinks she can. The birds still direct her eyes out and though she cannot see the boats they are still there. She breathes in the fresh air as though it may be her last breath, and remembers the young girl without a care in the world and the teenager that saw the world could be rough at times but as a young woman she stopped to breath in the fresh air and feel the beauty in her hand she holds in her heart. She remembers seeing off in the distance the world going by.

    The next time she is back she is no longer herself. She came back to become one with the sand and water, to be part of the shells. She can now fly with the birds and she is part of the perfume that makes the air so fresh. Her heart will always be at this place in the sand.

If you go there today you will see what she saw and feel what she felt but only if you stand there long enough and open your mind and your heart to the beauty.

By Jeanne Holmquist

Why the Dr bothers me?

So one day I wake up trying to convince myself that the simple task I have to do today that millions of women do every year is attainable by me. Well maybe not. Maybe an hour of waiting and worrying is too much for my mind and my body. Maybe I will try again next week. Oh, the people at the office were kind after they realized I had reached the point of no return. The point of which fight or flight the option is over and I must go. I explained. It isn't easy for me to come to the office and waiting is just not something I am good with here. Not that I don't have the patience. I have all the patience in the world but as I wait patiently my brain doesn't stop. Doesn't stop telling the rest of me how they are going to weigh me and I will be disappointed and then they are going to take my blood pressure and they will ask what worries me so much and how nothing bad is going to happen and that it is just a normal test that is taken to prevent something much worse. And is your blood pressure always this high? I understand all of that. That logical, common sense part of my brain gets all of that. But the part of my brain that is unreasonable and illogical is screaming you may not make it through this visit Jeanne. Reminds me of the father in Sanford in Son when he feels a heart attack coming on and yells out, "You hear that Elizabeth? I am coming to join you honey." Fred Sanford never died at these moments. He survived, just like me today.

I will try again next week to face the visit. I will try to be patient and they promise that I will not have to wait that long and will be seen quickly. My sister recommended that I ask to be first so I didn't have time to get worked up or worry. I used to have to do that with all Dr. appt's but I am getting better. I can go to the family Dr. and wait and get weighed and have my blood pressure checked and I survive. I will remind myself on Monday that I can do this. I can wait my turn and survive the poking and prodding and walk out the door still in one piece.


Just had to get this off my chest in hopes that I will not have to worry for the next 2 days. And maybe the shortest blog post I have ever written and published.

Good night.

Happy Birthday, Derby Day, Mother's Day

Back in August of 2012 I wrote my first blog. Not to be famous or to bad mouth others but to find an outlet for my own feelings and emotions. So this week was the anniversary of one of the traumatic events that got me to start writing.
This week is also Mother's Day and the Kentucky Derby. Now I know that in most houses none of these things have to do with the other but in my house the Derby and mom and grandma always went hand in hand. Mom and Grandma were both from Louisville, Kentucky the home of Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby both their birthday's were withing a week or so before the Derby and just a few weeks before Mother's Day most years. Going to the Derby has been on my bucket list as long as I wanted to go to Times Square for New Year's Eve which I did for the year 2000. I am far from a fancy person but for that day I will wear a dress and flat shoes and a moderate hat but none the less appropriate for the Derby. I will drink mint juleps as though it were my God given right. The only thing I won't be able to do is call mom and grandma when I am done with the day and tell them how wonderfully long the day was and how amazing the hats and the clothes were and the number of famous people we see that day.
Today as most Derby Day's I watched the pre race festivities the early card races and enjoyed the call for riders up, the Post Parade and the singing of My Old Kentucky Home (which Brian used to believe was a song written about a house I lived in, in Kentucky) update babe: I never lived in Kentucky. Still makes me laugh. And then the fastest 2 minutes in sports. A new person at work was sitting with me this week and I spoke of the Derby and she being all of 20 years old did not know what the Kentucky Derby is. If you have somehow read this far and don't either please Google it or ask Cortana or your friend Seri.
So I did not talk on the phone today through all of this or watch with mom and grandma as we have in the past. One year we took the kids all down to mom's and made Derby hats and made bets on the race and watched it together. That was probably in 2011 or so. Funny how the time flies by and somethings will always stay with me. Like the Derby that I had 2 of my nieces over for and explained about betting and gave them each a quarter to bet on the race. They may have been 5 and 7 or so but the older of the two decided that she just liked that I gave her a quarter and she wasn't going to risk betting. I told her that was a choice she could make. It was so cute.
I try to share these bits of family history and tradition with the kids and recently I have been reminded by the fact that mom is gone that I have no one to pass my knowledge or love for any of these things on to. I have no children to instill my beliefs in or to share my joys with. This was something that when I was of the age of everyone around me is having children was a reality I did not want to accept, yet here I am of the age where my friends are now becoming grandparents and again it is brought to the forefront in my life. And since with the recent death of my mother I have been reminded of the 5 steps in grieving. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I realized I have done rather well with my anticipatory grief (fancy term for grieving before the person passes). This is my thing. I am sad before and even though I know I did everything that I needed to do for the person. It may not have been everything others wanted from me, or everything others expected but it was exactly what I could do. But in anticipation of not being able to save the person I grief for their loss ahead of time. I want for one more day while I still have days and want to make better what I cannot change. But after the loss of a person that I have grieved for ahead of time it
gives me acceptance. Something that a lot of times in my life I fall short of accepting myself. And here we are back to the fact that I never had children. It was not for a lack of trying but I always said God  and I didn't see it the same way. Even today I have all the signs of grief for a child I never had and life I did not live. I do accept the way my life is and don't want to adopt. This may be fear of acceptance by the child or fear of not being good enough to some stranger. That is all on me.
Since over these last few months I have struggled with what to write at times for fear of sharing someone else's sorrow or opening up someone else's wound I decided tonight that my wounds are the only ones I am speaking of and always have been. I am not going to stop writing for fear of what others think this is purely a selfish act which a dear friend reminded me this morning that I don't have enough of. So I am going to work to accept the things that I cannot change and I will write the things that I would have shared with my kids in hopes that one day someone else's children will find what I have written and think I didn't know that about my family. And that will be my way to share my history with the future generations even if they are not my children. Happy Mother's Day Mom and Grandma (both Grandma's for that matter).
 

Is it Sediment or Sentimental?

I am up early this morning. Not as early as I usually write. The sun is up and it is a bit cool out this morning and windy. I have been thinking about everything lately and found it ironic that at this time of sorrow how I don't write. I do write in my journal at work maybe once a week and I have been trying to put together a poem that I felt should have been a one time sit down and spill it out kind of thing but it is not coming out that way. Nothing really comes that simple right now. I was thinking this morning about the fact that I don't write because I am not the only one feeling this sorrow and I don't want to discount anyone else's feelings by making mine seem important. I guess that is the empathy that I have. I don't discount anything of someone else's but I am always able to discount my own.

The first thing that came to mind this morning was the word sentiment but I thought how similar it is to the word sediment. So you cherish it or you throw it out, just one letter makes all the difference in the world.

Life is always full of challenges but these I face now are so difficult for me. I hold them inside, maybe not to let go. And I keep telling myself I need to let go. I cannot hold on to everything not even these feelings. I am thankful that depression is not figuring into this. I know some of you are thinking oh but it is Jeanne, you just don't realize it. But it isn't. Trust me. I have a life time of experience and one thing when I am heading down that hole I know it. This is different. I am motivated to do things it is just I am overwhelmed with what to do first. But yesterday Billie, Al and I made a dent. Be it a small dent. We went through mom's clothes. We started with two bags. Garbage and donate. We joked when we had filled the 5th bag of donate that since we each get one fifth of the contents of the house we each get a bag of clothes. I know that is stupid but that is how it is. If we didn't joke about it I might cry, but I didn't. When we were through we donated 6 bags of clothes and had thrown out two. I feel like we didn't even put a dent in her room but we did. I need to not discount our accomplishments no matter how small.

So next week is mom's birthday. I said we would all go to lunch at her favorite restaurant. Just the 5 of us and family. I thought about inviting more but then that becomes a big thing and I don't know... I just want it to be us and I want it to be nice. Maybe afterwards we can go to mom's and each pick a few things out of the house. This is the part that is hard for me. Not that I don't want them to take things that remind them of mom and grandma but then I picture the house with pictures missing off the wall and then it will not be the same. I know it is never going to be the same. I realize that every time I sit down in the living room and look around.

I think about the show American Pickers because when they buy something from someone they always make it like they are going to cherish the thing they purchase. They always say that they are going to pass on the story of the item and the person that owned it and if even the only person that is going to remember the story is a person that saw it on tv I guess that matters. Someone will remember. But don't they only cherish the item until it is in the truck and the camera is off and then it is going to their store and their going to sell it. Now the person that is going to buy that farm fresh find of theirs will they cherish the thing or did they buy it just because it was on tv. Does that matter?

I really wish something that was inside me would spill out onto this page and make all of this easier. Some realization that will make this all ok with me. I wonder if mom knew this part would be this hard. Then I look around my own house and want to get rid of stuff. Because it is just that. Stuff. Most of the nick knack things in my house were given to me. I am not one to buy things for myself. Mom used to love to buy anything with geese on it because I had some Louisville Stoneware that had geese that I liked and geese canisters in my kitchen. I now have geese all over my kitchen but I had only bought the Louisville Stoneware pieces. When I had cats mom would buy me any cat figurine she found. So our living room has all kinds of cats. I only have one I picked and I painted it to look like a cat we used to have. I know the reason I hold onto these things has to do with that I remember that mom bought me the cats and the geese. That a girl from work gave me a black cat angel when she left and that a guy that sat by me gave me the snoopy race car figures I have and that a funny looking figurine in a safari suit was on Brian's birthday cake one year. I can walk through every room in the house and tell you who gave me what and why or when. Then funny thing is I guess it is just stuff but stuff someone bought for me. So am I not to cherish these things? Maybe that is it. I guess I always felt if someone gave you a gift that was something you should keep because they bought it for you. I know most people don't remember where everything they owned came from or maybe they just use it until they don't need it anymore and then it can be discarded.

Maybe that is the part that bothers me most, the discarding. If I get rid of the thing that they gave me am I getting rid of the person that gave it to me to begin with. Am I discarding our relationship or the fact that I even knew the person. Or is it that I think if I get rid of the thing they gave me that I will discarding them. I know the rest of the world is just like throw the shit out Jeanne.

Today this blog is not going to be one that I get up from and feel like I have accomplished something, or come to some conclusion. It is as mismatched as the things in my house and mom's. A jumbled bunch of thoughts that don't even make sense to me. Part of me wants to delete what I have written and go back to bed. But then this time was wasted if I throw out what I just spent the last hour writing. Maybe like the time spent picking out the cats and geese for me and the time she spent saving all the things in her house. Maybe that is it. Maybe I feel like she will be forgot if we get rid of her things or her house. I know that is not true but maybe that is the moral of this whole mess. She equated the things to her worth and I equate them to her memory.

Like I said, are all these things and memories are they sediment or sentimental? The fact that I don't discard them makes them sentimental but can they be both. Can I remember that I had them and that mom enjoyed the find and I am done using them or looking at them and can get rid of them. Can I? I guess that is the question.

500 Words

Today I did something I have never done before. I submitted a story I wrote for a writing competition. It had to be a story never before published so I cannot share it until after the contest is over. I first heard of the contest back in December and I wasn't sure I could write something for it. The only real restrictions other than previously unpublished is that it had to be fiction and it had to be 500 words or less. I really wasn't sure how many words 500 was. So one night while I was staying overnight with mom I thought since their is nothing on TV at 3AM and I cannot sleep I will try to write something. So I started off with a piece of mom's paper and started. I wasn't sure what I would write about but I thought I just want to write a page and count the words and see what I have. That was how this started. The problem I didn't stop after the first page. I wrote 3 and a little more. The story tells the tale of person going to the beach and how both the beach and her are the same and they change. When I read back what I had written it made me cry. It was a metaphor for life. Mine maybe or maybe mom's. I wrote most in 3rd person as though I am watching someone else's life but then when I speak of the person at my age I used the word I. To some that means nothing to me it means that no matter I how try to separate my life from my mom's by growing up and moving out and even getting married we are still one in the same or are we?

I don't think I can say much more about the story but I was successful. It was just over 500 words. So as I typed it today to submit it. I typed as I originally wrote by hand and then edited just a few words and went from 512 to 500. So the whole thing seems like it was meant to be. I submitted it and now have to wait. It would be wonderful to be recognized for my ability to write but there are millions of people out there in the world waiting to be recognized for whatever they do that they enjoy. So I will only be disappointed for a minute because I know that when I read my work and when my best friend read it, there were tears in our eyes. I read it out loud today to Brian and he said he was crying before me. The important thing to learn was I can do anything I put my mind to. I am only limited by my own fears of failure.

Winning will not bring mom back so she cannot enjoy the fruits of my labor that evening. This piece however will always remind me of those days spent caring for mom. Sometimes that meant lifting her or helping her but sometimes it was just sitting with her. Talking to her. Listening to her stories. I have realized over the last few weeks I have been preparing for this year for a long time. Bits and pieces over my life then caring for our dog Kody for the 14 years we had him. Then in 2012 dealing with Brian's sister and her daughter and grand daughter's death and a few weeks later my cat of 21 years passed away and then a month later my grandmother. All those things taught me lots of things. How to take care of a sick dog is not the same as mom but it is not totally different. In the end I had spent 24 hours a day with him trying to get him to eat anything to get better. Going to Arizona to deal with Brian and his families tremendous loss taught me to express myself in ways other than panic. I learned to take the words in my head and put them to paper or write my blog. My grandmother's funeral preparations were very similar to mom's. Maybe they weren't as different as they thought they were.

Now I am left not alone but not the same. I do have times I want to call mom. I want to ask a question even though I may not have followed her advice at least I knew where she stood on the topic. I have just such issues now and I don't know what she would do. I don't know what I want to do. Part of me says nothing. Do nothing. Let things be the way they are and then there is the part that says that may not be fair to to everyone. Some may read this years or days from now and think they know the dilemma but I doubt they do. I am always looking out for the whole. In my book 5 will always =1.

What are you saving for?

Some people save for the future, for a rainy day, for a vacation but my mom seamed to want to save everything. She saved her good clothes for a cruise. She saved pictures to share and she saved history and memories and things that might someday be valuable as though they were all things that were valuable.

It is funny though because my mother and grandmother both used good things as though they were everyday things. The living room furniture we sit on is very old wicker furniture. Original cushions and paint, if you know anything about wicker furniture you would think this stuff should be in a museum and we sit on it, sleep on it and have Christmas every year on it. Grandma never drank out of a plastic cup. She was always drinking her water or soda out of a fancy glass. She said, if you have it you might as well use it. She would however wear her good clothes everyday, just because they were nice.

But back to the saving part of my mom. She always had the spirit to save things that she thought might one day have a value. Like a bank account in her house. She saved the books we read as kids, she probably has every golden book written before 1974 and cookbooks. She saved the Fischer Price toys we played with as kids. Recently I even found the Barbie dream house folded up at the top of the closet. Really mom.

Her and Grandma liked to go to garage sales and thrift stores and they each had their things they liked to find. Grandma always liked angels and frogs and mom always liked birds and St. Francis and we joke about the shrine on the butcher's block in the living room. What you don't have a butcher's block in your living room? Well your dad probably doesn't have a cannon either. What can I say? My parents were always different.

But now mom and grandma are both gone and what my mother said we would go through and clean out is now down to myself and my siblings. My brother has cleaned up and cleaned out the kitchen but the cabinets go to the ceiling and he said, you know there is stuff in all of them. Yep. Glass doesn't get the money it used to. People don't care if they drink out of fancy glasses or ones from Target. Sorry Target but there is something to be said for crystal. Not that the stuff mom had was anything fantastic just better than the everyday glasses we drank out of. And people don't know the difference between a champagne flute and a sherry glass anymore and don't care. So they would not have a set of 8 of each plus rocks glasses and tall glasses and wine glasses and you see how many glasses one can have.

So I have told my sisters that I wanted to do some of this on my own at first. Why? I don't really know. I just know to see things thrown out that my mom held on to right now is just too much for me.
I had cleaned out stuff from her bedroom back in the summer trying to get her to use her own bed to sleep in instead of sleeping on that ancient old wicker couch but even with her room cleaned out some she did not want to sleep in there. She felt that if something happened to her back there no one would come looking for her.

Yesterday I pulled out a few boxes of things that were already boxed to get rid of and filled a couple boxes with things that have no sentimental attachment and will try to sell them at a church garage sale today. But when finished loading the car I sat and looked around and started to see my mom in the things that she saved. I know I don't have to do this now and it is probably too soon but if I don't do it someone else will want to do it for me and then I will get upset and then I will be like mom. I feel it. If someone touches the wrong thing now, I would put up a wall that my mom would. She would be ridiculous and let us get rid of nothing. But I learned as I got older if you showed her a few things that she to had no attachment to that she would start and next thing you knew she could get a room cleaned up and box up things she was ready to get rid of. It just had to be her idea.

I have found myself the last few weeks wearing good things I would never wear because, well I felt like wearing them. I know no future is guaranteed to us so I might as well wear the things I like and eat off the good dishes and drink from the fancy glasses because what am I saving them for. The future doesn't care about the past. It is a hard pill to swallow that some of the things I want to save no one else will. And I know my house can't hold all the things I want to save so that part is going to take some time and the fact that I have no children to instill the value of these items just because my mom saw a value in them.

I think it all comes back to my memory. I remember my mom telling me that the butcher's block came from the Fish Restaurant that used to be at the bottom of the hill in Maas Brother's parking lot before you went across the causeway and how it sat in our garage for years until my mom said it finally did not smell like fish anymore and she sanded and varnished it and how it will take 4 grown men to lift the top but the legs are light as a feather. Or how that wicker furniture came out of a house down the street from an estate sale. Original paint and cushions. Mom was very proud of that purchase. She cherished the pictures my grandma painted. The one in the living room on brown wrapping paper that is a chalk drawing of a fishing boat or the train or flowes she painted. She would paint ties that my great grandfather wore that had the L&N trains that he worked on. We don't have one of those but we do have a picture of him wearing one. Grandma signed the things she painted simply Jane. Don't forget the nativity scene that mom painted when we were kids. So simple but not so valuable? Well to me they are.

As they say you can't take it with you. Otherwise she would have had us pack it up for her. Just kidding. She thought by saving these items that one day, some day she would cash in or share her wealth which may not have any monetary value but Sentimental Value that is what a lot of these things have and held for her and now me.

Miss you mom.

85 Days

So... I am at a cross roads an impasse a fork in the road. Where do I go what do I say? None of these questions are easily answered today.



Today I want to tell you about 85 days that ended with 2 hours of perfection.

Jeanne K. Basore

For the last 85 days my mother has needed constant care. Not by a staff of nurses or a hospital or even a nursing home. She asked to be taken home and for her children to care for her. Her children are not care givers or nurses or in the medical field. We are dispatchers and office workers and retail employees and dental assistants and city employees. We luckily have friends that are in nursing school and respiratory therapist and lpn's and cna's. On November 15 my mom had a stroke and was taken to the hospital where I met her. She could not speak well but I was able to figure out what she was saying. Mom could only say a few words right after the stroke she seemed to say two best. "NO and "Bullshit" they became two of her favorite words over the next few days and weeks. She was admitted into ICU but before hand they wanted to put in a catheter. Well that was never going to happen. I am pretty sure she said, Hell No. So ICU it was but only for a day. She was too much for that so she was moved to the Neurological floor being she had a stroke. She had been given two swallow tests and failed both what does that mean well that they don't feel it is safe for you to eat. Then on November 17 at 7AM we were told  by a hospital doctor that my mother was unlikely to make it through the day.  The doctor said that we could try to feed her anything she wanted basically because they had no hope. So she ate. Small slow bites and not very much. She sipped at coke and by that afternoon my mother got up out of her bed and walked into the hallway with the physical therapist because she saw a friend standing there she had not seen in years. The nurses jaw hit the floor. My mom then said as only she would, I walked this far can I have a cigarette now?

Over the next few days we saw great strides and great setbacks but by Thursday they said we needed a plan. What are we planning was our question is she going to get better or is she going home to die? We were not sure of either. The doctors at this point said by what she is able to eat she will not make it until Thanksgiving. Well that is just next Thursday. We knew she was going to need round the clock care and a hospital bed so we started with those things.

And so our nursing experience started. My mother was nothing if she was not stubborn so as soon as she saw the ramp my sister's husband built for her she was mad. She would have gotten up and kicked it over into the pool and walked up the steps with assistance if she could have. But at some point we knew we needed to do whatever we could to help. Hospital bed would have ended up in the pool on top of the ramp as well if mom could have lifted it. Now with 5 of us you would think that would not be bad to try to have coverage but we all have jobs and even though all our jobs were flexible and our bosses kind. It is the week of a holiday and we can take some time and spend it with mom. The overnights were by far the hardest but every hour of the day had it's challenges.

The first few weeks she had more visitors, neighbors, old friends, previous co-workers, the mailman, employees from Publix and CVS came by to visit. The biggest surprise was our dad. They had not spoken in years but he came and sat with her and visited. They watched the old home movies and made their peace which is what was important for both of them.

 After we got through Thanksgiving and into December my mother announced one day that it was no longer a death watch. She was eating frozen orange juice and pineapple juice and Slurpee's. My brother came up with some of the best idea's. I was amazed and she would try things when he put them in front of her. She liked cold gazpacho soup I made when it was pureed. As the weeks turned into months we had to have more help. We were wearing ourselves too thin. So we brought in reinforcements.

My sister had a friend that had already been helping mom on her days off and she started to spend more time and we had another friend that had done private duty before that was free in the morning. We still were running short in the afternoon but we finally found a new friend that I knew as soon as I spoke to her that mother was going to love her. And my sister's friend the respiratory therapist that was coming to check on her and giving us whatever tips he had. The funny thing was that all these people loved and cared for mom in their own way as though she was their own mother.

People have asked didn't you have Hospice help. No. Mom didn't want strangers taking care of her. She didn't want strangers in the house. I have told people from the beginning that this was the hardest thing I have ever done and I felt like we should have a t-shirt or a medal declaring that we have done it. A friend of mine told me yesterday when I said that to her,"you will receive that medal when you see your mom again." I felt much better.

Mom loved all of these people. The respiratory therapist spoke to mom about football and music. She told him of players like Fran Tarkenton and George Blanda and singers like Frank Sinatra and Kris Kristofferson. So the next time he was over he brought a cd he had made for her of some of her favorites. He would come after working in Ocala to sit with mom overnight. Which was when her breathing was the worst.  He would come and watch football with her. One of the girls loved old movies and would watch them with mom as soon as she said John Wayne mom was sold. Another just sat and chatted with her and helped with bathing. Everything they did was to make her life better and to give her the dignity she deserved and the 5 of us the peace that we could leave and she was in good hands. They each taught us how to move her or transfer her and how to adjust her to make her as comfortable as we could.

They each had the patients of saints to do what mom asked and took care of her as though it was their own mom. Thank you Donnell, Carrie, Jarma, Kayla, Jerrica for helping and just being there.

Mom had physical therapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy. She would request the same people and was not happy if it was not Brian, Pam and Paul. One even told her she was his favorite and he wasn't suppose to say he had a favorite. When she was not well enough to do exercises they would sit and visit with her. Check her vitals and again any tips they had they would share.

Christmas at Mom's 2007

So Christmas came and we did as always, we all showed up at moms and visited and exchanged gifts. I had made some food not as much as mom would have but none the less there was more than enough. New Years Eve I spent overnight with mom. We watched the ball drop and watched old movies. We have all sat through the hours of home movies with her that one of my sisters got copied to dvd this year with her. The kids even came up with an idea for a game. How many things can you write down that you see in the movies that you can still find in her house. We will have to play someday.


So frozen orange juice became ice chips and soup became pureed fruit cups. The acid would upset her stomach from all the juice. Never did she say she was hungry. Never in pain. Uncomfortable and even miserable at times but she was tough as nails. She would asked for a sip of coke by holding up her thumb and forefinger like you would show a pinch. As time past it was harder and harder to understand the words she said so we turned to a clipboard and reams of paper and mom's own version of sign language which we all learned. A thumb up meant lift me up higher in the bed. Just like that she created and we learned a new language. We are still torn on what will happen to all that paper but when we had a hard time understanding her we would say,"write it down mom." Trying to make communicating less frustrating for everyone.

Our 85 days is nearly up but you don't know until you know that sort of thing remember the doctors only gave her hours then weeks then they finally stopped predicting the future.

On Thursday January 28th mom said she was tired of fighting and on Friday January 29th we were all over at the house. She was not responsive to anything Tori had been there over night and Al that day, I spent the afternoon and Billie and Beth came in the evening along with their kids. We were all there. Timmy and Alex had been by. When her youngest granddaughter Ashley walked in and said "why is wheel of fortune not on. Grandma wants to watch her shows." So we watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and the kids told grandma what they did at school that day and played along with the game shows. Emily had a great story of almost getting sick while singing because her group became a duet which almost became a solo as others dropped out or forgot the words. It was a great story for grandma to hear. Paul got an award for Student of the Month that day. We were all talking and laughing the only way mom would have wanted it. After the game shows we turned off the tv and the kids wanted to sing to her before they left so we had about an hour and a half of Karaoke with Grandma as they called it. The kids sang Silent Night, Automatic and the House that Built Me both by Miranda Lambert. Both Automatic and The House that Built Me were two of mom's favorites so they were sung at the beginning and the end of the their performance. My sister said, "one last song kids." When the kids were finished Beth, Billie and I changed mom and got her ready for the night. But before we took our hands off of her I looked up and said, "I think she has stopped breathing?"  Beth, Billie and I still all had our hands on her and we waited. Held our breath. Was she gone. She was. I feel that when the kids finished singing and walked out the door... Mom was gone as well. She passed away just that fast. She could not have written down instructions for a better evening. 

The next few hours and days were difficult but I thought we are Basore's and we will get through this. And we have started a new journey down a new path. I had hoped not to take for a while longer but everything changes and as the song says, "you leave home and move on and do the best you can."

That is what we are doing now. The best we can. Thanks to our Mom.