Birthday Surprise

Today would be mom's 75 th birthday. Me the genealogist has always found it interesting that some days seem to repeat in a family that my birthday was the day my aunt and uncle got married and that one of my sisters birthday was my grand parents anniversary and that same sister had her daughter on another sister's birthday. We sometimes had 3 birthdays grouped together so we would share a celebration. My brother, my dad and I are birthdays are all within 2 weeks so we shared. My mom and grandma were within a week and then came the derby and mother's day and another sister's birthday. See things group together. Well in the youngest generation I have a niece who's birthday is the day before mom's and a great niece that is the day after. Unfortunately mom didn't live to see the princess be born. She loves Elsa or maybe she is Elsa. Parenthesis around mom which basically fill the gap this time of year that mom and grandma left empty. Gives a reason to celebrate when otherwise we might be sad or reflective. Well, I am always reflective.

That is what I am writing about this early morning. My niece who's birthday was yesterday. She turned 18 a milestone of birthdays. But in this time of Pandemic my sister wasn't sure what to do for her birthday. For my friend's birthday years ago I had her flocked. Where they put out a bunch of flamingos in her front yard and a big sign that said she turned 50. She lives on a busy street so it was quite the seen and well worth the money for the fun. So my sister and I looked into this last week to see if someone still does that sort of thing and a we did. The company FlocknSurprise. The owner was great. Well we decided we have too much time on our hands and we made signs to go along with the cows that were put out and the rather large sign that said, Holy Cow. Any cow pun we could come up with and some were udderly ridiculous. That was the sort of thing that we made enough to spread across the yard. Everyone contributed signs. And she had no idea. Her younger sister told her she approved of the birthday surprise which I guess in teenage lingo it was cool. At one point she told her sister they were getting a real cow for her. My sister bought cow bells for everyone.

Last week I started thinking about writing a letter to my niece. To share some of my memories of her life and to show her that sometimes things don't work out the way you think they are going to but they do work out. I told my sister last week in front of my younger niece and she joked Aunt Jeanne is writing a 3 page card. I said well, it is 3 pages long but may be more when I am done.Well as the wind started to pick up this very early morning and the thunder and lightning woke me. I got up for a drink and saw I had a text message on my phone. My now adult niece text me a mile long text thanking me for the letter and the poems. See I tied things in life to poems like Robert Frost The Road not Taken and Emily Dickenson's The Brain is Bigger than the Sky. I wanted to share things she might enjoy as well as show people have different ways of expressing themselves. At first I only added the titles of the poems and a short quote but I decided that she may not google them so I would print them out for her to read. I told her yesterday when she opened the card that she didn't need to read it now and I hoped she could read cursive since I wrote it by hand, I joked otherwise you will have to have your mom read it to you. But she assured me that she could read cursive and would read it.

That mile long text I got that I will probably save and never delete. A simple text message which validated my existence. I know that seems extreme but one of the things my mother used to say was it wasn't so bad that I didn't have kids. That I had already raised my brother and sisters and two parents. By the way that doesn't make a childless woman feel any better. But this morning my niece said that she loved experiencing things with me. That she enjoyed reading my memories and comparing them to her own and how we see things different but she likes to see things with me to see how I understand them to be. Because I know something about the world. As even the non-parent that I am I know that if a 18 year old acknowledges an adults opinion of anything is significant.

So today on my mom's birthday I have been validated as a person by a younger generation. Maybe not my own child but that of my sister's. The trips we take were so that I could have a few days per year to share life with 3 kids that I love. And in the last 5 years we have visited Thomas Edison's house, snorkeled with a scientist, visited a butterfly garden, gone on glass bottom boat ridesl seen wild horses (nay, nay's) as the girls called them and gone to a Submarine Museum.


All the while not sure if what I wanted to share was what they wanted to experience, but I learned today that they do enjoy the times we spend together and I do make a difference. That makes life worth it and we are going to plan a trip to some museums this summer.

Peace, Happiness and Love

So much of everything is the same. Today is the same as yesterday and tomorrow probably won't be very different. Last weekend and and again today I watched a couple episodes of a documentary about Rick Rubin and his place Shangri-La. His home, recording studio, paradise. I am not sure if it is perfection but it seems a simple life not an easy one or maybe it is? He has found a way to make it his own. The thing that interested me was that he is not a person whose music I would have been interested in but there are themes that I believe and after watching the first episode there is music he has made with people that I like. But he tells the musicians, if you are true to yourself you are successful. You may not have a top 10 gold record but you can walk away from your work and be proud of it. Today as I was watching he spoke of meditation and these musicians that come there find a inner peace that they didn't have. I don't feel like he tells them what to do but shows them. Asks questions, like do you like the way that feels? I am sure there are plenty of people that tell these artists what will sell and what won't but Rick wants you to be happy with your work. Try something you've never tried stick your neck out and at the same time look inside. On the episode I watched last week he said that is why there are one hit wonders. That passion they have when they are not making money isn't there when they try to repeat the magic. The influences are crazy and the fans that are let down when an artist can't duplicate it. They spends their whole life creating the first album but only have 2 years to get the next one out.

 As I watch I feel like he is a life coach I couldn't afford to go to. For someone to tell me Jeanne, you have to be happy. This isn't like asking do you like bacon with your eggs. This is saying what makes you truly happy and do it. Unfortunately I have not yet found a way to make money at the things I love but I have never stuck my neck out to do those things either. I do them in my spare time, at home alone, at 3am. Funny how my happiness and joy from writing or photography sometimes comes through hard times. Sometimes tears in my eyes before I even take the picture. That is how you know it is good. People don't understand that sometimes letting go of the things that make me worry bring tears to my eyes to but those aren't sad tears. Sometimes they are happy ones.

Sitting here today I thought I would listen to some music from the musicians I saw on this documentary today. I found at the end that one that I was going to look up has passed away since the filming.  Instead I turned on my XM radio and it was on Prime Country. Right out of the gate some Gatlin Brothers, All the Gold in California, then a Reba duet with Linda Davis Does He Loves You, then Love Me by Colin Raye if you don't know that song well the if you aren't crying listening to the words the last couple lines say "Between now and then, 'til I see you again. I'll be loving you, Love Me." When we were kids mom would leave us notes with what we needed to do around house before she got home and her signature was simply the word Love. I have always signed mine Love, Me.

Ironically this was not a word spoken in our house as kids. It was an understanding that we were loved. It was a given. We had food, clothes and lots of family. We never wanted for anything and as we grew up that is how we understood love. There weren't hugs exchanged or kisses it was the act of love that we were raised with. I didn't even know that it wasn't the way every one's family was until I got older and I remember a friend trying to hug me and I was kinda put off by this awkward showing of affection. Now as adults we have all learned how to show affection of this type but it still to me isn't all that love is. I still believe love is a verb. It is an action not a gift. Yes, a hug is an action but so spending time with a person, just visiting or talking. It is putting a roof over your head and feeding you. I know some are going to take that is being mean. It wasn't mean it was love. My favorite dad story is one from when I was very young walking down a sidewalk with my father and I tripped. He stood there and waited for me to get up. He didn't rush to grab me and wipe my knees. These two ladies were there and saw what happened and said to my dad, Aren't you going to pick her up. My dad said, She has to learn to get up on her own. I won't always be there to pick her up. I told that story in 7th grade for a project.  So to each their own but I know that story is love.

I know I always say I don't know what I am writing about when I start. This blog is a free form expression of the things in my head and at the time I stop to share them. As I spend this evening listening to the music that made me I think why in the world don't we have music like this and the answer is maybe love is given easily and everyone is owed something. No one wants to do anything the hard way anymore. People don't want to wait or put in the time. The last thing I want to share from this series was that people think that when they get their gold album they will be happy but that void can't be filled like that. This is why you have to be happy with what you do.

Grand Opening

Tonight I was thinking that this week has been a lot of Sunshine even though it has rained a lot. This Blog started out at a very sad time in my life and it helped me live with the sadness and pain I carried. I have always found it ironic I write more when I am sad or mad then I do when life is good. So today's post is to say I am thankful for the good times. The times that go by that I am not dwelling on yesterday or worrying about tomorrow. I am busy working on today.

In the last year and a half I have been volunteering for the Clearwater Historical Society. I signed up at a Fish Fry and thought it would get me out of the house and maybe I would enjoy it and meet some new people. Well. I started a few weeks later with a lady named Susan at South Ward Elementary School sorting through boxes of items that have been packed away in Plumb House on MLK Jr or Greenwood as I prefer to call the road. I have always had a tie to the Plumb House indirectly I dated a Plumb when I was in high school. I remember in their house in Dunedin was a framed poster of the Plumb House. 

George Washington portrait in kids corner

After mom passed away we had so many items that were related to Clearwater that we felt we should give them to someone to preserve them. My sister Billie and I dropped off multiple boxes at the Plumb House to people I now know to be Lila and Buddy who have spent countless hours along with Susan and I and many more sorting through items and boxes at the South Ward School. The historical society has had a lease with the Pinellas County School Board for a few years and with the help of donations and grants they rehabilitated the original school building from 1906 and tomorrow we are going to have our grand opening. I started a couple days a week a few hours before work and one of my days off. Brought some more items and cataloged items my family donated. I know to some they are just old things but to me they are memories. Tomorrow we at the Clearwater Historical Society will start sharing these memories with other residents and visitors in beautifully restored building. 

Wednesday night we had a party with a Who's Who of Clearwater and the turn out was great. It is the middle of June and people were visiting outside with each other and checking out the displays inside. Displays showing off businesses of days gone by. Some everyone will know and others I had never heard of. We also have school displays covering over 100 years of schools. I am anxious to share my story about the camphor tree on Gulf to Bay near US 19. On Wednesday night there were two ladies that were standing near my tree story and I started talking to them and let them know that I wrote the info on the tree and it's history. One of the ladies wanted to fact check me and was pleasantly pleased that I did my homework. The other after talking for a minute we realized she knew my mom. She read my story and loved the voice of the tree telling the story. My heart was so happy.

Paul working the sign in table for Grand Opening

That afternoon when I was leaving in the rain after working as long as I could, I crossed Fort Harrison on Turner one of the older houses on the right I spotted a white egret and anytime I see a egret I think of mom. So as exhausted as I was the tears started rolling down my face wishing I could share this with her. I don't know if she was still living she would have parted with some of the items we did but as my nephew Paul and I walked in the museum on Wednesday night I said, see that George Washington picture over there it came out of North Ward. Your grandma took it home when the school was going to throw it out. That picture spent years in a closet that we only saw when digging through the closet. Paul reminded me that yes, I had told him that before. I said, grandma would be proud. When my oldest niece was young grandma wanted to teach her that some things were sentimental. That was probably a big word for a Kindergartner getting picked up by grandma but it has been a running joke ever since. Someday soon I will start teaching her daughter words like that.

Grand Opening visitors

Days have passed so I am going to finish this post we had our Grand Opening, and it was a hit. We had hundreds of people in the museum. Seemed like all at once. I greeted people as they arrived along with Paul and heard their kind words of encouragement as they left. Most pleasantly surprised that the City of Clearwater now has a museum we can call our own. I am so glad that I signed up to volunteer that day. That was me sticking my neck way past my comfort zone and no matter how tired I am I love every minute of it.

Hiding Places

I was trying to think of something to write about tonight and I thought I would look at a writing prompt website. 365 ideas and I scanned and found one that caught my eye. Hiding Places.

Write about places you like to hide things. Well to me I know that even though I don't have many that read the things I write I didn't really need to write down my favorite places to hide things. The other option was places you hid as a child.

That reminded me of a rainy day when I was maybe 7 years old. My siblings were going on a bike ride but I didn't want to go. They were just going around the block so my mom left me home alone. Now that seems strange but by the time I was 10 our parents were leaving the 5 of us home alone on their date night Friday night. We would bake the frozen fried chicken in the oven and sit on the couch and watch tv and eat our fried chicken. Wow we were lucky to survive our childhood.

But back to the day home alone just for a few minutes. It probably took mom longer to get the others on their bikes than it would for them to go for a ride and be back home. I am guessing but it was probably summer time and the time passed and I was playing in the living room by myself and the next thing I know it had started raining. I thought they will be home any minute. Any minute at all...

Then the biggest crack of lightning and it seemed to come right through the living room window and through the house. That was it. No more waiting. I ran next door to Mrs. Brown's house. Mrs.Brown was a very nice lady with the greenest thumb. She had a beautiful vine of passion flowers. She would be home she was always home. Her husband Mr. Brown was not well and she took care of him. So I knocked on the door and told her what had happened and she said, "come in and I will get you some ice cream until your mom gets home." I ate that whole bowl of ice cream and we watched tv and then my mom came to the door and said, "she had been looking all over for me and she hoped that I had come to her house. Mrs. Brown told her I was right in the living room and was fine. She told mom about the lightning and mom told her how as they were riding bikes it started raining and that they stopped at a neighbors house and stood in the garage to wait out the rain. Mom said that when they got home and couldn't find me the first place she looked was under my bed because she said when I was scared I would take our dog Tiger and hide under the bed when I was little. Mom thanked Mrs. Brown and we went back home. I don't know why over 40 years later I have always remembered that story. If it was the kindness of Mrs. Brown or how scared I was when I saw that lightning. I do recall that when I was younger that I would hide under the bed with the dog when people would come to the house. Mom would say that I was so shy. Funny. I haven't fit under a bed for many, many years but am not much different from that little girl even today.

Well I kinda like this writing prompt thing. A good story gets told ad I got to write a little.

Things Change

I always find it funny the thing, that has me laying in bed thinking and the next thought is, "Get up it is 3AM and you need to write that down." Everyone lays in bed at one time or another questioning in their mind a decision they are trying to make or just made. Me, being the over thinking type not only have to go through every possible reason to make a decision, then once the decision is made have to think of every reason I should have not made the decision. Then there is Rule #39, "There is no such thing as coincidence." Who's Rules? Gibbs' Rules. NCIS has been part of our lives for 15 years now and Brian's go to re-run to watch during the day on TV. I like Gibbs character the best and his rules. Seems they follow the same moral compass that my life follows. I think the rule that got me was #51 sometimes you are wrong. I have had a hard time with this in myself but I guess if Gibbs can be wrong every now and then so can I. Rule #9 Brian's favorite Never go anywhere without a knife.

Well enough of what got me out of bed and on to what I was thinking about. Last Thursday at work I was asked to make a change. A change I said, I would never make, just about an hour before I was asked to make it. Then the weekend of pondering, even list writing the pros and cons, why I should or should not make the change. But then Friday I was asked to do something outside of work that coincided with this change at work. Which made me think well maybe I should make that change. (For those of you that know how my mind thinks at this time of the night, Michael Jackson's song Man in the Mirror just popped into my head. Make that Change...The funny thing is the not wanting to change upset me. Because in my mind this change well I had made it before. I made it for mom and now to change again...Well was I leaving mom behind. I know to some there is no logic. Mom passed away more than two years ago. But it seems as life goes by there she is.  And when I say it upset me I didn't even know what was the part that upset me until a friend at work that asked the question, "what is the reason you don't want to change?" The tears rolled down my face. Mom! Just like now after I have made my decision. Stuck my neck out, I am going to try something new that I have been told that I will be good at. Here is the other thing. When you are really good at something it is hard to go on to something else that you don't know. Right now anyone ask me a routing question? How do you get rid of all the jobs? How do you know who to give them to? To me it is logic and magic rolled into one. And I am really good at it. I am not the fastest or the smartest. But I am really good at putting jobs on techs in what to me is fair and logical way. And I use my magic to fix the problems the techs have.They call in and say they have already talked to 3 different people and they couldn't solve but in less than two minutes I get that customer's TV on or their modem to be online. There is one tech that when he hear "Dispatch, this is Jeanne", the first thing out of his mouth is "Thank God it is you." Here is the kicker I really love it. I love fixing things and solving problems. I don't need to be the smartest or the fastest but I am really good at what I do so why in the world would I change?

As we all know everything changes. Not me but everything around me. And that is it. I don't like change. I am perfectly happy being perfectly happy, with what I have and where I am but then there is that part of me that can be better. I mean it took years before I could loose one pound and somehow over the past couple years I have lost nearly 50. I am never the hare but always the tortoise in the race. Slow and steady. But when these two opportunities came up at the same time and the one made me think well if I try that, then I can try this and I want to try this. I know I am vague but see nothing has been said at work or outside work for that matter and not that I have a bunch of work friends that read this but I like to keep things to me for now. Maybe not wanting to mess up the magic that brought both these opportunities together at the same time. So I am going to try both. Mom would be proud of me for the outside of work opportunity. And she and I would have adjusted to the other Like said, I made this change before see, I used to eat dinner with her every Wednesday night but then when I started working at night that changed. Neither of us liked that we wouldn't have that but then we had Friday. Friday was my day off that Brian usually had to work. So I would take her and grandma where ever they needed to go and go to lunch and the thrift store and even though I haven't done those things in years that is why I have off of Friday and Saturday. But starting next week that will change. Even now after sitting here for an hour thinking about this the tears roll down my face. Funny how people have an affect on me. Even when they aren't here. Man I miss her.

A Hard Road in a Good Car

Today I saw a picture of a coffee cup someone posted on Facebook and it said "What would the name of your autobiography be? And this is where I do some of my best work. I thought ok. Quick Jeanne, Think of a name for your autobiography. And instantly Hard Road came to mind but I thought that is not all there is to it. And in less than a minute I came up with A Hard Road in a Good Car. Typed it out because I thought that isn't bad at all and if I write things down I have a better tenancy to remember them. So, after working in the garage for a few hours and it started lightning and thundering so I thought this would be a good time to figure out about my Hard Road in a Good Car.

I do my best creative thinking in the shower. Probably why I take such long showers. Am I getting clean or writing a book? Sometimes it is hard to say but most days those thoughts are out of my brain by the time I am dry and off to work but today I have the time to sit down and write and I thought The road is my life but the car is that my body? Not really but it has served me well so far. Little more than a regular oil change and adding anti-freeze and windshield washer fluid. I do change the tires I have a mechanic I have known all my life and he takes care of my car so I don't have to worry. Then I thought unlike most people of my age I have only owned 4 cars in 34 years.

1978 Mustang II
1987 Mustang
1993 Cavalier
2005 Sebring

Now I thought about the cars and I thought about me and well a Mustang II was a small Mustang.
What is a mustang but a wild stray. My Mustang II years were 1984-1987 end of high school and beginning of the rest of my life. All of which I lived in the same house and worked at the same job and went to school most of those years or tried.

My Mustang years 1987-1993 Still wild but mostly on my own working full time and in debt. These years did not end because I got another car but because my Mustang was flooded with salt water in front of my house on Clearwater Beach during the No Name Storm or Storm of the Century in 1993. Whichever you like to call it. I will never forget telling my roommate when we got home from a late night out that it had never in my life time flooded where we lived. Well he woke me up a few hours later to 3 inches of water in our garage. We looked out the front door and all we could see of the fire hydrant across the street was the top screw. I took pictures the rest of the night and the next morning. Once the sun came out and the storm had passed David and I ventured out past the porch and his car was fine but that Mustang sat a little lower and it had water inside. I washed the car had it detailed but it only ran one more time and then Totaled from water damage. So this girl that didn't have a lot now had less. So she borrowed her Grandmother's Ford Fairmont. I don't count it as being mine. It like my life was kinda a shambles but it got me from A to B as they say.

Then 1995-2005 the Cavalier years. Not really a supporter of King Charles through the English Civil War or a horseman even though I had two Mustangs see it kinda tells a story all it's own. I was more of the adjective definition rather offhand, indifferent. These are the years I met and married Brian we moved from a house I had lived in for 10 years to the house we are in now. We traveled and were spending the money we made and the future was far away. I finally left my first job not by choice but that same job that got me that first Mustang II now 20 years later I had to leave.

Now the Sebring years 2005-today. What is a Sebring? It is a town in the middle of Florida is that it well ironically no. It is a word derived from yes, say it with me Swedish. Brian is Swedish. One definition says it is a bright warrior's name. Today I think of myself as a warrior when it comes to the struggles I have had. These last 13 years we have had our struggles.  Well I had never related the cars that I have owned with the periods in my life before today but it seems like I picked appropriately.

The story of my life didn't start in 1984 when I got my first car. Actually the first car I ever remember is my mom's 1963 Fiat. Three on the tree as they would say. I don't know if it is just funny now or really ironic but a Fiat is an authoritative determination. If that isn't my mother well it is. Now not that anyone would have said this apple fell far from the tree but mom did have that car until sometime in the 1980s. She took classes at PTEC back in the day to learn how to do body work and remove the rust and paint that car. My mom and dad had this car on their wedding day and someone used brown shoe polish to write just married on the trunk and it didn't matter how much she painted that car you could still see it.

As for my dad he has always been a mechanic. He can fix anything. When we were kids the shop he worked at would sometimes bring vehicles by the house yeah once a garbage truck pulled in the driveway at our house on the beach and a neighbor called and I remember my mom saying yes Linda it is a garbage truck in the driveway. I have heard stories of a 1950s corvette that he had that if he hadn't trashed would be worth a fortune today. As he found out when he went to the Corvette museum a few years back. Dad told us stories of working for a gas station as a kid and Mr Morrow I think was the man's name. He came and visited once. Dad told of him and his friend having to take two cars to the junk yard and that they played like demolition derby all the way to the junk yard never thinking the whole way how they were going to get back to the gas station after destroying both cars. But the vehicles I grew up with dad driving were our full size van first was tan with 2 rows of seats and the second was green with 3 rows of seats. Until 1980 or so dad got a blue El Camino. Just because it is interesting the definition "the Kings highway" or "Royal Road". Dad had that car well I would guess way into the Cavalier years if not the Sebring ones. I don't know if I want to see if my siblings cars fit into their lives like me in my wild days and now into my bright warrior days. I am just really glad that along this road that I have had some really good cars to ride in.

I think I could get a story out of this.

The South

A show on TV got me thinking last night and got me up early this morning. The show was on National Geographic channel and it was about the south. Not south like Florida but "The South". You know like south of the Mason Dixon south.  For those that don't know the Mason Dixon line is the border between Maryland, Pennsylvania and Delaware. A divide between slave states and free states. A line drawn in the sand basically to stop to families from fighting over the border between their lands. The line was drawn and marked by large blocks over the 300 mile border by two men named you guessed Mason and Dixon. An Astronomer and a Surveyor in the late 1730's.

I thought so much on this show that I got up and watched it again this morning. On the show,Uncensored with Michael Ware he was trying to explain to everyone else in the world the differences about the south. The history, the land and of course the people. What is different about people from a place where time doesn't move as fast as it does north of the Mason Dixon line. Seemed like race was what he wanted to discuss, but an Artist Jonathan Greene from Charleston, SC said it wasn't a monochromatic thing and meant it. It is a cultural thing and bringing the history with them and trying to deal with it the best they can. Mom would have liked his mindset. Food and family and a sense of place. A sense of being. By the way absolutely beautiful artwork.

Some of the people spoke of etiquette and civility but the word that really caught my ear was decorum. A man that was basically a party crasher said he is accepted at these events because he knows how to act. But I think those things the etiquette and civility of the south are how you should act but by Google's definition decorum is behavior in keeping with good taste and propriety. To which I had to follow up with the definition of propriety, the details or rules of behavior conventionally considered to be correct. I would have more simply defined it as knowing how to act based on where you are.

Mom always wanted us to behave as we should when we were in front of certain people. There was a way to speak in front of my grandmother and grandfather or other relatives. Especially when you visit their house. There was a way you behave at the table and a way to behave at church. Which made me think of the picture on the internet of a woman sitting inappropriately on the couch in the Oval Office while a formal picture is being taken. Some say that the problem is that she has her feet on the couch. I don't have a problem with feet on the couch in your own house but when you are a lady wearing a dress you should act appropriately for a lady wearing a dress as well as a lady visiting the Oval Office weather you work in the office or not. A picture is worth a 1000 words. I thought when I saw the picture that a woman wearing a dress of an age above childhood should not be sitting on her knees. If you would like to tuck one leg under yourself with the other on the floor would have been more appropriate than kneeling on the furniture. That was inappropriate decorum.

Throughout the show people spoke of tradition. One person spoke of land that had been in their family for over a 100 years and one referred to themselves as stewards of the land. Another concept some don't get. Just because you own the land doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. You have to think of the implications on the environment. Not just how big of a house can I build and these trees will grow back. Which follows suite with the book I just finished reading Ecology of a Cracker Childhood by Janisse Ray who shared how being raised in a junk yard in Georgia got her to study ecology and the effect we have on the environment especially the environment of the longleaf pine.

 Another lesson mom always wanted to impress upon us was that once it is gone you can't always get it back. I remember how she fought to not have the Surfside Holiday Inn built on the north end of the beach. Once they build one high rise there is no stopping them from building more. Well another 20 years later and guess what. It is now a rare thing to find a mom and pop motel that a family can afford to stay in on the beach and to some that is ok but to my mom that in itself was a crime. People should be able to afford to come and visit our beautiful beach and enjoy fresh fish and spend a day at the beach without getting their car towed or paying $10 to park their car. But some would say she was standing in the way of progress.

On the show they spoke of progress being part of the problem and the solution. One person said he wished South Carolina was more like the rest of America and he said but he feels America has become more like South Carolina. Some people are trying to bring back some of the food and culture to the area that has been lost over time and others just want to rehash what everyone already thinks that people of the south are all racist and keep pushing that idea into the media and further impressing it among the general population that, that is the way it is in the south. I know everyone is not racist.

 I think some of my mother's sense came from her family history. They had lived in the same city for over 100 years. Her family was in Louisville, Ky before the Civil War started. Some of her family was in Indiana 50 years before that. At some point I believe the south is in our dna. Even though it is technically considered a northern state.  Knowing how to behave isn't enough if we don't share the stories and beliefs of those before us with the children of today. Otherwise how will they learn. I know it is not transferred through dna. The kids have to be shown that they have it in them. They need to sit at the knee of a person that has experienced things and learn why they happened and not just read them on the internet. They need to know how to behave while they are sitting at that person's knee. How to act at a party and when you are invited to a person's house you bring a gift or an offering of food to show your appreciation for them having you over. I know these things seem silly. People today are so casual in action and dress and never go to a place where you have to dress a certain way so when invited they don't know how to act.

To me that is the romance of the south. The love of your history good and bad. The love of your food and knowing that your grandmother used to make and love the same things that you love. The love of place and the land. Appreciating the natural resources you have and not exploiting them. Those are the lessons mom would have wanted to impress upon the future and I will have to agree. I don't think this knowledge is something we can afford to skip a generation.

Mom would be proud

This week we finally had an estate sale. I took the week off from work and finished organizing and cleaning out closets and emptying out boxes and we had a sale. I spent so much time there this week and am tired but I didn't realize I was going to have a Panic Attack well two. One on Thursday night because I didn't feel like I had gotten enough done and the other Saturday night because I could do no more.

Panic is like breaking your arm. You forget over time what it feels like but then when it happens again your like, oh yeah. This sucks. But with the help of some friends I got through it. And even though I am awake in the middle of the night I am feeling rested and have off today also for me.

I knew we would have all kinds of people come through the house but the ones that were Jack Asses really got me mad. The people that everything is too expensive and your not going to sell anything. I had one first thing Saturday morning and I am not a morning person and he pissed me off. I told him I didn't need his negativity so early in the morning and since he didn't have anything in his hands I couldn't do better on the price. One of my sisters walked by and I said, "what a jack ass." She turned and looked back and said, "he is still there." I didn't care.

It was the other people I never thought about. The people that were like mom and grandma, that loved to go to the sales and find a treasure and bring it home. The pastry chef from the Yacht Club who went through mom's cook books and was so excited by her finds. She said, "what a great collection mom had." So I showed her one of my favorites that mom would be glad to know she has, it was a Treasury of White House Cooking. On the first page it said, Jackie Kennedy Onassis returns to the White House. It had stories of when the Kennedy's were in the White House and other first families and some of their favorite things. She came back and sent one of the other chefs as well. I told her the second time she was there what it meant to me by her appreciating mom's cook books. I told each of my brother and sisters that story so they all knew someone else other than mom will love her stuff.

We also had a young bride-to-be that collects vintage Fisher Price toys for her future children that couldn't believe mom had saved all these toys from our childhood. And the Barbie collector with OCD and asthma that went through boxes of miss matched pieces. She bought Barbie's with missing limbs and heads that my mom saved. These are the people that I want to remember.

Our best customer as my sister said, "was the ad she didn't place." She had called to place an ad in one of the weekly little newspapers and was too late to get in but the lady on the phone said, sounds like a good sale and can I tell a few people anyway. Sure. So she came and her friends came and so on. People called people once they walked through the house and told others. My sister would say when they walked in the house walk through the whole house twice and you may see half of what it here.

The people I didn't count on were the neighbors that stopped in that didn't realize that mom had passed. One lady walked in and said, "where is Jeanne?" I lost it. I just started crying right there in the living room. We had a few and that was really hard but then there were the people that also grew up on the beach that we reminisced with. The ones that went to the Youth Center or sailed Prams. The ones who knew other people we knew back in the day. And the ones that remember Pier 60 and the old hamburger stand and the pool and the soccer field that is now a parking lot. The ones that remember how great it was to grow up on Clearwater Beach.

This weekend was as therapeutic as it was difficult for me.  Mom would be proud. She would have loved talking to the chefs and sharing her stories of finding the cook books and telling the stories of how she loved her cast iron pans that one of the chefs bough all of them. She would have loved the cat lovers that bought her cat statues and she would have even had choice words for the jack ass. That was mom.

And not only did all those people walk away with a treasure they all got a story and now they will have a memory of the lady in the big house that had saved all these things for so long for this weekend so that they could find them.

My brother and sisters did as we have done many times before and pulled together and worked hard for a common goal. Mom raised us to be a team and even through the difficult times we know when we need to walk away or when it is our turn to step up to the plate. And I can say this weekend we all hit home runs.

When I see you again...

In this last year I have written about all of the emotions of taking care of a parent and the loss of that parent. And over the last 11 months have been working on clearing out that same parent's home. That home that we have all walked through the back door a million times and the home that same door was never locked. For years no one had a key because it was always open if someone was home and someone was always home.
I have shown you around the house. Told you stories of the kitchen and the tv room. Talked about holidays spent in the living room. But over the last year or so I have always found in the midst of whatever was going on in the house I really tried to hold it together but always found that when I get in the car and start to head off of the beach I usually feel compelled to call someone. Because it is in those moments that I am truly my saddest.
Last week when I left a friend called at that very moment and she could tell something was wrong and I told her that I was just leaving mom's and she said, "I called just to make you smile." Thank God she called. We talked and laughed my whole ride home.
Tonight as I left was no different but tonight I decided to tough out the drive home and then comes on the radio a song that made me cry. See you again by Charlie Puth. The words just hit me, "It has been a long day without you my friend, I will tell you all about it when I see you again." That was our ritual at night on my way home from work I called her. I told her about my day. She hadn't driven in two years so unless I took her out or someone else came and got her she was home so she always wanted to hear about what I did during the day and the same with when my brother got home from work. He would tell her about his day. Even at the end when she couldn't speak on the phone, I would call and talk to whomever was with her and tell them to tell her a few things and hear about her day. Some asked why I still called every night. Why would I stop?
The song goes on to say "Why did you have to leave so soon?, I know your in a better place but it is always gonna hurt", I know mom was ready and it was her time but we did have a lot of things yet to do. "We've come a long way from where we began" In this last year my brother and sisters have worked hard on getting the house ready to sell, garage sales and auctions and part of that has meant going through 40 years worth of stuff. Over the last week my brother has moved into his own house and we have all five of us worked together which up until now has not been easy but we are working hard together to get this job accomplished. Mom would really be proud of us. "Hold on to every memory" We have sorted through boxes and closets and still there is more to do but we are really close to having one last sale and it is amazing. We laugh when we find some old picture and some strange thing that only mom would have saved. I have seen what I thought would not happen come to life right before my eyes in the last week, "Give me all the strength I need to carry on."And in the next week we will be ready for the next part of this journey. "And every road you take will always lead you home" This I am not so sure of. I don't know if I will ever go back by after it isn't our home. I just want to remember it the way it was for the 40 years that my family held down the fort there. But there is one thing for sure mom: "Oh I'll tell you all about it, when I see you again."

Silent Night

Yesterday I was reading online about a story telling event coming up and the theme was music. It said to come tell a true story about music in your life. A song from when you were young that you loved or one you couldn't stand. It said no notes or props and you have 5 minutes to tell the whole story with a beginning a middle and an end.

Well being that Christmas has barely passed by and our tree is still up I thought of Silent Night.
Now anyone that knows me knows that Silent Night makes me cry. Just the thought of the words will bring me to tears. And I thought of all of the things in my life that have brought me to this point. I was trying to think of where to begin.

Do I start when I was young and how my mother loved Christmas? So many gifts, and that she would put up two Christmas trees in our living room one with traditional decorations and one with decorations we had made. She would save the ones we made from year to year and decorate with them. But it always seemed as we were decorating you know five kids and a couple parents and next thing you know there would be an argument over something and someone was getting in trouble and someone was going to their room. Well fast forward a few years and I just learned to avoid that whole experience and would not be around when it came time to decorate the tree. If your not there you can't get in trouble.

Dad who didn't have a long fuse or a lot of patience for the holidays,  I remember him saying he didn't always know how to act because he didn't have a father while growing up. I was a little older when I heard of how he lost his father at Christmas.

Lets flash back about 40 years to 1950 my father he is about 7 years old and the tree is decorated and the house is all ready for Christmas and his father passed away on Christmas Eve. Well for those of you who didn't know back then in Ohio where my dad lived people didn't get laid out at a funeral home they were laid out in their own home. So there it is Christmas morning my dad and his two brothers and two sisters having Christmas with their dad laid out in a casket in their living room.
My uncle the youngest in their family recently told me that he didn't remember that Christmas he was only two but that his sisters had told him that he played with a car he got for Christmas along by his father that day.

We have gone from the 1970's to the 1950's and now to 1990 my grandmother, my dad's mom passed away on December 20. My grandmother loved Christmas. She always had a beautiful tree and it was the same every year and when I was a kid of my dad's brothers and sisters there was a time when we all lived within a mile of my grandma. That was 15 of 16 cousins most of which were young children at the time. We would all go to grandma's house on Christmas. She had a little chalk board by the front door and we would sign in when we got there. She would always take a picture of our names all crammed together. By 1990 however we weren't all as close in proximity and weren't all going to be able to go to grandma's for Christmas. But there we all were on Christmas eve at mass for my grandmother's funeral. Then back to her house for the wake. And the picture I have posted before that the whole family is in except for me. I went back to work.

I know I thought what a tragedy Christmas is for this family and how sad that is just to think such a thought.

So another 10 years have passed and I am now an adult and have found my way around the sadness that comes with Christmas. I have found that if I decorate the tree alone that there is no arguing. I just found as I got older my fuse got short around the tree and it was easier for me to just do that part alone.

2004 Christmas eve and there I am sitting in the same Church that we had my grandma's funeral all those years ago. Me and my youngest sister and her husband and her beautiful little baby boy. And that is the day that I remember for the first time that when the song Silent Night started to play and the words just rang in my heart. That little boy laying in his carrier next to me who when he breathed it sounded like a giggle. That little flap in his throat didn't close all the way and you would hear hee-eee, hee-eee.

By this time I have reached beyond the years that I would ever have a child of my own and this little baby was about the most beautiful thing in the whole world and all of my life and this reality all mixed together and when I heard the words, "Holy infant so tender and mild, Sleep in heavenly peace." I just started to cry. Still to this day I see the image in my head. Him in his little green onsie with a Christmas tree on the front.

Another 12 years later and I am sitting with my mom on Christmas Eve. She is bedridden after her second stroke and I am spending the evening wrapping presents and we are watching old home movies and I know in my heart this will probably be our last Christmas together and please God don't take her on Christmas.

But my mother the most stubborn person I know, knew that wasn't the way the story was going to end. We had our Christmas, just like in the past. The five of us all were together with her we shared gifts and stories and watched those home movies and there next to the fire place was that same tree.
That tree we decorated as kids. Now itself over 40 years old, with an ornament hanging on it that said Happy 40th Birthday from 2009.

So we have come to the end. This Christmas it was not the same. Now my mom is gone. But we went to church on Christmas Eve with my youngest sister and her husband and that little baby boy who is now 12 years old. There he was sitting across from me and when I heard the music start and I looked at his face and I heard hee-eee, hee-eee in my head and those words "Holy infant so tender and mild, Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.

I don't know if that is the kind of story they are looking for but that is the story that came to me.

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.

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.

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

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.