I blog, therefore I am, me.

I haven’t heard from my sister Cris
since I have been writing in this blog regularly.
That disturbs me.
I know she reads here and wonder why she is silent.
I haven’t written to ask.
In my family, much went unsaid.
Much needs to be said.

Some people just let you know that they
aren’t willing to be that open or honest.
That was the norm in my family.
I was always different in that way.
Verbal, emotional and willing to show it.

It is my hope that she and other family members see
that this is an exercise in healing.
A chance to work through, via writing, my emotions.
All those concerning my mothers death, my childhood
and my present life as well.
A form of therapy if you will.

If one reads the blog in it’s entirety,
they see growth, change and healing does
happen here for me. I used to be hurt and angry
at many things that have happened.
Now I am able to see the good in most of the happening.
A chance to grow and mature came with all of it.

Lessons were learned, enabling me to see
that with proper thought and a separation of
thought over emotion, much can be healed.
This has been so empowering for me.
Invaluable in my ability to find goodness in
my sister, my mother and my childhood as a whole.

I love my mother.
I won’t pretend that she didn’t make grave mistakes.
I think she would appreciate that honesty now.

I believe that when one dies, they see, as they pass
from this life, the truth of them.
The facts laid out raw with the understanding that they
are forgiven. It is what enables them to pass in peace.
I believe that at that moment there are no secrets.
Acceptance is a given as other family greets them there.
It is my hope, my wish, that she knows those truths.
And feels peace for all eternity.

I miss her still and yet I know that she does not hurt.
She is not ruled by a need for alcohol.
She has no shame, no remorse and no regret.
She is finally free.
It is these beliefs that get me through each day
of missing her.

I choose a different path.
One of knowing facts now, of having less to
work through as I travel from this life.
I believe in speaking my mind and my heart.
Here now and with my loved ones each day.

That is not to say that I wont have to
face facts about me as I pass.
I know I will.
I have made mistakes as well.
We are all human and infallible.
I give that understanding to
my mother as much as myself.
I can forgive.
But first I must be allowed to remember.

Day Trips and Whistle Stops

Mom loved to drive.
It was nothing for her to just load us in the car and
set off on some adventure.
We rarely knew where we were going.
We knew it would be a fun time for all.
It wasn’t like we ventured off and had lavish
lunches after visiting some amusement park.
It more often than not included simple sandwiches
via a cooler in the trunk. Kool-aid in large jugs to share.
We weren’t aware that others did things any differently.

Mom could never be lost. She rarely used a map.
Her sense of direction uncanny.
I learned early on that a double yellow line on the road
meant that it was a state road and would lead somewhere.
You could find your way home from there.
The joy was in the discovery of new places.

Her life long dream was to buy a huge RV and set out on
adventures. We would visit RV dealers and tour
the extravagant wheeled homes.
She could never afford to buy one.
I wished often that I could gift her with that dream come true.

We visited wineries in California, Spanish missions,
Japanese gardens, and model home neighborhoods.
Dreaming of a better place. We walked though these places
with all the wide eyed wonder of children.
She did as well. She loved to see how the model homes were
decorated, learning from their example.
One such model home excursion found us waiting
in a crowd for a meet and greet with the Lost In Space cast.
My first brush with celebrity.
It was an amazing day.

Back then, drive-in’s were popular.
One could remain in their car and watch and listen to the movie
on a static filled speaker hung from the window.
She could take all of us in her big Bonneville to the drive in
for five dollars. We would dress in our pajamas, pillows in tow.
She would prepare a large brown bag of popcorn.
A double layered bag to contain the butter.
Occasionally we were given a dollar or two to visit the concession
stand during intermission. Before the movie started we could be found
below the massive screen playing on a playground there with
the other children who came. Also dressed in their pajamas.
We would always be asleep before we arrived back home.

I still love these little day trips today and repeated the
tradition with my own children. Until they got to the age
where it became a struggle to get them to go.
They are missing out on discovering new places, of learning
alternative ways of life. Jan and I do this now when we can.
A drive into the mountains, a trip to Atlanta.
Wandering country roads with the top down on the car.
Enjoying the wind in our hair. The sun beating down as we drive.
Finding our way to new places. Discovering little hometown diners,
road side fruit stands, antiques shops and small town main streets.

Once while Jan was in coroners training in Forsythe Georgia,
I took my own day trip… Lessons learned well.
I discovered the town of Juliette Georgia.
The site of the filming of the movie Fried Green Tomatoes.
The whistle stop cafe diner is there, I stopped in for a coke.
Remembering every moment of the movie.
All the props from the movie are there, this tiny main street.
Juliette Georgia

Thanks Mom for the invaluable lesson.

Tetherball Queen

I am currently a 45 year old, six foot tall woman.
I was a tall toddler, a tall kindergartener.
My teacher then was rather short.
Mrs. Bell must have been 4 feet tall.
I was the same height as she was then.
By the time I was in third or fourth grade I
was still towering over others.
Especially the boys.

I played any number of recess games.
Tetherball was my favorite.
I couldn’t really lose.
One good high hit of that ball sent it sailing
around the pole to its knot.
Completely over my opponents head.

No one really wanted to play with me after a while.
New kids had no idea I was the champ.
They would take me on, and lose every time.

Marching to my own drummer even then,
I played marbles. Only the boys played marbles
in the dirt under the swings.
But I played, and was damned good too.

Occasionally I would hang out with the girls
under the outdoor awnings surrounding the
courtyard. We played jacks. There was great competition.
I wasn’t as good at jacks, but I loved the game.
I was ok losing at jacks.

I felt special in being tall most of the time.
Occasionally some mean child would pick on me.
Not often. I think most kids were afraid of my stature.

I cried easily, but references to my height wasn’t a button
easily pushed. Now, tease me about my red hair
and I would fall apart. I hated my red hair.
It seemed so wrong to be the only member of my
family that had this shock of copper hair.

Tall people are often asked to reach things for others.
This is a lovely opportunity to help others.
Although sometimes it is a bother.
I never mind in stores, helping short little
ladies reach the top shelf. Short men never ask.

Tall people are always asked if they play basketball.
As if that is the only option for us.
No I don’t, I hate the game. But volleyball… Yes.
Badminton, yes, love it. Hitting things over a net
just so, pleases me. Not that I do much of either now.
But then, yes.

Today I find my height a source of angst at times.
Pictures of Jan and I together are highlighted by the
difference in our heights. I tend to recognize that
my ass is in most peoples faces or near.
I am conscious of my height again as I was then.
I am bothered by it often.

And then some grandmother in a store will remind
me just how lucky I am. I thank her and feel gratitude
for the reminder to feel blessed.

Now if I could just get jeans long enough,
shirts that actually reach my wrists,
and socks that I don’t have to buy in the mens
department to fit my larger size feet.
I would be happy.

I should not complain.
I rarely need a ladder in doing home improvements.
I can always reach my own top shelves.
Jan’s head fits into the crook of my neck in a lovely way.
And best of all, my long legs turn her on.
I can live with that.
Besides… Some time soon they say, I will begin to shrink.

But then… one last negative comes to me…
I have to shave three feet of legs, times two.
(but only in the summer)
Aren’t you glad you are not me…

Childhood Revisited Part Four

My Aunt Marie, Mom’s sister,
Was once a country singer.
Her name was Rose then.
Uncle Bob and Aunt Rose played bars
all over Michigan.
I thought I knew a celebrity.
I was beyond proud.
I loved listening to them even though
I wasn’t into what was then known as
Country and Western music.
Aunt Rose is an amazing seamstress.
She sewed all the classic clothing of the time.
The fringed shirts, chaps pants, you name it.
She could do it.

Long before I moved to Michigan,
they would come to California to visit us.
My best memory of her was being paid a quarter
to sit and brush her long brunette hair.
She would lie on the couch, her hair draped
over the arm. I would brush and brush until
I heard her drift off to sleep.

Later in Michigan, I remember going down
into the basement with a tape recorder.
I sang a sad version of Marie Osmond’s song
Paper Roses into it. Bringing it up later for
her to listen to. Sure I was the next superstar.
Aunt Rose was more than complimentary.
It was a wonderful moment.
Though I never tried to sing publicly.
I was just too shy. And most likely not very good.

______________________________________________________

I recently found a picture that triggered a memory.
It is of me and my year older sister in our
living room in California.
We wore only underwear and Disneyland hats.
We did not get to go to Disneyland, but we did
get the hats. My older sister and brother went
with their father. At that time I still believed
that man was my father.
The memory includes the feeling of incomprehension.
Why were we not invited ? Years later when I learned
the truth of my parentage I knew the answer.
I was not his child. He did bring us gifts and didn’t have to.
I regretted that he was not my father. He is a kind man.
Always has been. His wife is this amazing English lady
who used to serve wonderful teas.
She probably still does.

______________________________________________________

My mother has five children.
They have four different fathers.
My younger brother’s father Art, I barely remember.
I do remember swatting a fly on the TV screen
when I was very little. Televisions were a big deal then.
We were lucky to have this miracle of technology.
We had a colored film that you put over the screen
to see it in color. I swatted that fly and this man
decided that a good course of punishment would be
to sit me in a tub of ice cold water.
I remember crying hard and eventually that cold water
caused my bowels to move.
I don’t remember being the one who had to clean it up.

_______________________________________________________

Once, my sister and I were walking down our street.
A car stopped and she seemed to know the man
who got out. He seems familiar to me even now.
I felt no fear. He took us and bought us the most
beautiful Easter dresses. He brought us home with
new dresses, socks with lace at the ankle,
white patent leather shoes with tiny pearl buttons
and little white purses to boot.
Who was that man ?
I do not know.
But I loved those shoes…
I do remember that.

_______________________________________________________

I loved my bike.
In California, I went everywhere either on that bike
or on a pogo stick. I was riding to the old dairy farm one day.
My leg caught on and then, wrapped around a random piece
of barbed wire cutting me deeply. I went home bleeding and crying.
Mom fixed me up with bandages and mercurochrome.
An awful red cure all topical treatment used at the time.

I had healed up rather well when one day while riding,
I wasn’t watching where I was going and ran smack
into the bumper of a pick up truck. Reopening the wound.
The healing began again.

It was always a comedy of errors with me.
I would ride up into the mountains behind our
house in later years. Letting loose of the handlebars
on the way back down. Arms out stretched,
sailing, flying, daring that front wheel
to turn out from under me.
It’s a wonder I wasn’t killed.

_______________________________________________________

During the “Harvey years” we took a trip and stayed
in a cabin by the river in Big Sur.
We were to go to the Ponderosa ranch the next day.
A trip to see where the TV series was filmed.
I was very excited about that trip.
Walking back to the cabin after some adventure,
I stopped to pet the owner of the camp sites dog.
A St Bernard. He promptly bit my face.
Mom again doctored me up with mercurochrome,
going a bit crazy with it. I wasn’t hurt that bad.
I went to the Ponderosa ranch with a over done
red mercurochrome face.
I was angry and pouted that whole day.

_________________________________________________________

My Mom sewed most of our clothes.
From little sun dresses as a small girl
to the newest groovy bell bottom pants later on.
In elementary school we had a fashion show.
I wore a seersucker dress beautifully sewn by Mom,
Wearing thin fabric on a lighted stage was my first mistake.
Forgetting the slip she had for me, my second.
Those puppy leash saggy panties still being worn.
I must have looked a sight up there.
The audience snickered and then out right laughed.
It wasn’t a good night.

____________________________________________________________

Mom didn’t have it easy with me, as these memories prove.
A little blond haired girl turned red at some point.
Along with that change came a tom boy of a child,
always into something.

It’s nice to be remembering again.
The good and the bad.
It’s all me.

Cold, gardens, parenting

I’m alone today… glorious truth there.
I do love being alone sometimes.
Still in my pajamas three hours after waking and
no plans for that to change any time soon.
I’ll spend my day piddling on line, then collect laundry,
maybe venture outside. I will definitely tidy this house.
It bugs me when it is cluttered.

The cold snap froze a few new plantings.
Some of my flowers and two of Jan’s tomato plants.
It sucks to have to replace them.
I wont until I am sure this is over with.
Jan and the kids spent Monday working on the yard.
Mowing, trimming hedges… it looks lovely out there.
I’ll go out soon and tidy the flower beds.
I love my yard.
I am amazed at the amount of growth this year.
Years ago you couldn’t have made me believe
I would be so into landscaping. But I am.
I’ll take some pictures of what spring has
brought to our little haven.

Kevin installed a card reader for me in my computer.
I can now use my digital camera again.
It is so old that windows XP would not
recognize the driver. It is an amazing camera though.
I refused to replace it. With the recent purchase of
rechargable batteries it is now cost effective to use it.

______________________________________
Mom Pet peeves…

Leaving two cookies in the bottom of the package,
just so you can say you didn’t eat them all.
But really you did didn’t you ?

Walking past a fallen item instead of picking it up.
You are younger and in better shape.
Pick it up.

Asking for everything under the sun and getting most of it.
But when asked to help out, moaning about how hard life is.
You have yet to see hard.

Closing your bedroom door,
instead of taking five minutes a day to keep it tidy.
Really… just five minutes will do it.

Napping after school…
If you don’t nap you can go to sleep
at a decent hour ok.

Tooth paste hell.
How does tooth paste get everywhere ?
The sink, the top of the tube, the drawer pulls.
Ok this is just gross.

Losing the remote.
It does not go in between the couch cushions.
There is a table. Use it.

Dirty dishes in your bedroom.
Crusted on liquid…Ok yuck.
Bring the glasses back to the kitchen.
_______________________________________________

There was a mom this weekend at work who had an 18 month old.
She regularly gave this child coffee.
Her argument was that he loved it and cried for it.
Ok… be a parent lady. They all cry for stuff.
It is your job as a parent to tell them no.

Do you know why kids get into the crap they do now?
Stuff that we would have never dreamed of trying or doing?
Because parents are trying to be their friend.
They cant say no. They use the excuse that they are
trying to make life better than they had it.

Indulgence isn’t better.
Letting them run the household isn’t better.
Talking back to you isn’t better.

I have seen some truly horrible behavior
out of children at work. Smart mouth kids who literally
abuse their parents. Both verbally and physically.
If my children were to try that just once,
they would be never forget the consequences.
I demand respect. But first I earned it.

I earned it by not being perfect.
By admitting to mistakes.
By being honest about my past and present.
I earned it by showing them unconditional love.
By encouraging them,
and when even they couldn’t see their own good.
By propping them up in front of a mirror and
showing them what I see.
I earned it by being a giving parent but
expecting the same in return.
There are days when they go against my wishes.
At times that works out for them,
they more often learn that I do know best.

I don’t believe that children should be threatened
with physical harm if they do wrong.
But sometimes a kid out of control needs an
appropriate spanking to set them in line again.
Yes, I have spanked my children.
I’m not afraid of going to jail.
I more than understand the need for child
protective services. I was one of those children
that would have benefited from an intervention.
There is a line one must not cross.
Don’t hit in anger.
Show them who is boss, with respect.
Occasionally, you might have to pop them on the butt.
Use that power wisely.

My Flickr Photo Site

Happy Birthday Mom

Today is my Mothers birthday.
Mother of five.
Taken in 2003 by a rapid cancer that gratefully
refused to allow her to suffer for years on end.

A loving grandmother… They named her Nana.
Nothing was as special as the 14 hour trip to
visit Nana in Holland for a week.
The typical grandmother who was always ready
with food and engulfing hugs.

My dog Sebastian…not one to allow love or
feel it for anyone but me.
Made her the exception to that rule.
He said so by licking her toes at every opportunity.
She called him Rufus… never his name, and yet
he came each time she called.
He knew her gentle truth.

What does one do when a mothers birthday
rolls around, but she died in 2003?
The first year I went into a major depression.
A couple of years ago I planted a rose bush
in her honor. I do honor her still.

What does one do year after year
with these reminders?
These holidays when a child is supposed to
give something and no one is there any
longer to receive.
Her birthday, Mothers Day, and worse yet
the awful day that she died.
Literally the worst day of my life due
to her loss and a family charade that refused to
play any longer.

Today I will remember her,
I sit and return to a bonding time.
Me in her bed…crying, I don’t remember why.
A white chenille bedspread with round bumpy dots
forming flowers.
My head resting on her chest, her arm embracing me
as my tears trickled down onto her clothes.
Her, stroking my hair, saying the most beautiful words
I have ever heard.
“Don’t cry Carol Ann, “it will be alright.
I love you so much my red head girl”

I remember Mom, I do. I honor you.
I am not blinded by hurt, I never was.
It is my right to remember it all.
Often the good wins out.
Today it rises to the top.
Happy Birthday Nana, Mom.

Thank you for my life.

Mom loved:
Bob Barker.
Country Music.
Gomer Pyle
Gunsmoke, Ponderosa, Manix
Spearmint jellied candies.
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee.
Buffet restaurants.
Home improvement.
Candles.
Buying in bulk.
Pictures of her family.
Cadillac cars.
Road trips.
Hosting parties.
Her family.
Me.

Barbra, Work, Life

Happy Birthday Barbra Streisand

http://www.barbrastreisand.com/

The greatest singer ever in my book.
Brought me immeasurable joy with each viewing
or listening she offered.
I am grateful to have been alive during her time on earth.
My undying admiration is hers.

________________________________

Two days down at work. One to go.
I’m moving to Friday’s, Leaving Monday’s.
My new schedule after this week is Friday,
Saturday, Sunday. 7a to 7p
I am pleased.
And yet, in a way I will miss my one day off
with no one here each week.
Jan works enough overtime days that it
wont be an issue in theory. It just wont
be a scheduled day that I know I can just
do my own thing.
Love my family to pieces, but a person needs
some time just for them sometimes too.
I will just have to be insistent on what I need.
Jan will be more than willing to understand that.

______________________________

A disturbing conversation at work today.
We were having a frank discussion on past
loves, habits etc…
One co-worker made it a point to ask me
NOT to repeat what she had said.
Now you have to understand, I am as honest
as they come about my past.
I have done most of what anyone could
possibly tell me. I am shocked by nothing and found
this telling to be the most mild of confessions.
It never made a blip on my “news” alert scale.
This person should by now know me, trust me
and believe that what I know, stays with only me.
Yet she did not. It stung a bit.

________________________________
A Rant:
Ok people, put shit in your bookmarks ok ?
There are address books in every email
program out there. Use them.
I will no longer be the keeper of links
or addresses.
Got it? Geeze.
I am not the know all of the internet.
Use Google or Yahoo. Search a little.
You know who you are…
__________________________________

Whew I feel better now.
Off to bed.

Is it a date ? Yes Son, It is

To understand this post you will need a bit
of background information.
I love my son to the moon and stars and
back away again. (as he used to say to me)
He is 19, extremely intelligent.
Kind and gentle to everyone. Kids love him,
puppies lose bladder function in delight at
the sight of him.
He’s shy and has had few girlfriends up until now.
He is finally making good friends and
coming out of his shell.

BUT…
He is unable to drive himself anywhere
because he has not found it to be important
to get a license. He had a job for three short weeks.
Since then he has made no effort to find another.
He spent most of his schooling until this past year
twirling his hair, lost in thought.
Questions are answered with a grunt of “I don’t know”.
He is the greatest would be man I know.
He does not want to grow up.
He is comfortable here, why change now ?
He should have graduated last year,
but apathy held him back and so did I.

Today he called me at work and the following
conversation took place.

John, “Hi Mom, ya busy?
Me, “Not too bad, what’s up ?”
John, “Can I take Bonnie over by the mall?”
Me, “sure, how are you getting there?”
John, “Bonnie’s driving”
Me, “is this a date” (likes this girl so much)
John, “well no, not really.”
Me, “who is paying for this visit to the mall?”
John, “well me, I always pay her way.”
Me, “well does she think this is a date?”
John,”no, uh, I don’t know”
Me, “John she probably thinks this is a date”
Me, “Do you have any money left?” (from lost job)
John, “yeah, a little”
Me, “how much?”
John, “five dollars”
Me, “five dollars ? What are you going to buy for five dollars?”
John, “well we don’t do much to spend money.”
Me, (laughing) “are you going to eat at the dollar store?”
Me, “John ask your sister if she will loan you a 20,
I’ll pay her back and then you will pay me back
when you get a job, Like on Monday John.”
John, “ok, Thanks”
Me, teasing, “remind me to slap you when I get home ok?”
John, grunts “ok”
Me, “ok, I love you, have a good time.”
John, “I love you too, bye”

Hey John ! It’s a date.
Treat her like it is.
Dine her.. show her she is special.

What the hell is wrong with these kids ?
And not just mine, I hear these same
stories all the time.
No one wants to drive or get a job,
They don’t want to grow up at all.
Get a life already damn !

I couldn’t wait to drive.
Let me be free… give me a license now !
I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out
why we all couldn’t wait to have the
responsibilities of adulthood and now
they are afraid.
I find that sad in a way.
What joy it was to move out and have
my own place. Set my own rules.
Be an adult in every way.
What is different now ?

(I went back to work today, the
first time in nine sick days.
I was sure I would fall down
with exhaustion.
I didn’t. I made it.
I’m pleased)

U-hauls and the music in me.

There is an old joke…
older than dirt as they say here in Georgia.

What does a lesbian bring on her second date ?
Answer: A u-haul.

It’s a reference to the fact that some lesbians
tend to jump into relationships quickly.
I have found this to be true.
Maybe though it also means that we are self reliant…
Lesbians don’t call movers; they rent U-Haul’s
and move themselves.
Whatever your view, we are a small community
globally speaking. We share one main truth.
We love women. The smell, the touch,
the way they walk or dress.
The sun in their hair. The light in their eyes.
Whatever each of us individually feels floats
our own personal boat. We connect on a more intimate
level in our soul with a women, than we ever could a man.
Our first intimate encounter is a coming home.

When Jan and I met, we had been conversing on line
and by phone for a few months.
The day that we met in person, we both fell hard.
Had there been a store nearby; a u-haul may well
have been ordered and put to use.
Because I was frightened and cautious with my heart.
The u-haul wasn’t rented until a few months later.
Still a relatively short time by some standards.

I think back to when I knew she would be moving in.
We sat in IHOP one morning, heading for some shopping
spree, when out from my mouth I uttered some reference
to buying an item together for “when she moved in”.
Shocked at what I had just said I attempted to cover.
It was too late. It had been said.
We both knew it was too late to go back.
And once I admitted it, a smile replaced my
shock immediately.

I still didn’t believe in anything long lasting.
I had been cheated on in the past and expected
she would one day do the same.
It took a long time to trust her.
I soon knew for sure she was the one…that one.
The Mutt to my Jeff. The Ricky to my Lucy
We were driving somewhere early on, a song played
on the radio and I sang.
Loudly, not caring if she heard.
I looked over and she was just as comfortable
singing with me. A true test…
If I can sing with you, you are here to stay.
We still sing today.

Which brings me to my other point of this entry.
Music.
Music is a huge part of my life.
It is who I am. I could not live without it.
Take my eyes, but please let me hear the music.

I was the name that tune in one note, kid.
I still can. And I drum. Lord do I drum.
You know me. I am the driver at the stop light
singing loudly and pounding the steering wheel
to the beat. I just believe that music is best
listened to loudly enough that it causes
goose bumps.

In private moments I still turn the stereo up
as loud as I can. I listen to Bab’s or songs from my
teenage years. Consumed with the melody. Eyes closed,
hands tapping the beat. Unconsciously orchestrating
the song as it plays. Today as errands took me away
from here I listened to Linda Eder’s Gold album.
There is nothing like her melodies to bring me peace.

And that is the crux of what music brings to me.
Peace. Whether live or on a CD.
Music done well matters to me.

It has the ability to take you back to a place and time.
You remember where you were when each song was popular.
I adore that tug on my memory.
These songs I keep in my heart as mine.

Weekend In New England, Barry Manilow
It Was Almost Like A Song, Ronnie Milsap
Lost Without Your Love, Bread
I Just Want To Be Your Everything, Andy Gibb
Love Theme From “A Star Is Born”, Barbra Streisand
Margaritaville, Jimmy Buffet
Don’t Go Breaking My Heart, Elton John and Kiki Dee
Kiss And Say Goodbye, Manhattans
I Write The Songs… By Barry Manilow

As a love sick girl.. with a crush on her teacher.
I treasured “When I Need You”, by Leo Sayer.
She never knew.

Jan’s personal favorite:
Hotel California, Eagles

Beth Kelly, a short and sweet romance at 17,
ended badly when she slept with Deb.
I drove about aimlessly afterwards with all the angst
of any heartbroken teen singing along with Barry
“Looks Like We Made It. Or I thought so till today.”
What a memory !

In 1977 my friend Laura loved this song,
She searched radio stations like a mad woman.
Beth and I would sit in the car and laugh at her.
But secretly we loved how cool she was.

“Sun goes down on a silky day
Quarter moon walkin’ thru the milky way
When it’s me and you baby
We could think of somethin’ to do
’cause it’s the right time of the night
Oh, the stars are winkin’ above
Honey, it’s the right time of the night
For makin’ love” ….Jennifer Warnes…

Isn’t music grand !
I guess that is why I have been so taken with
American Idol.
I love to revisit those eras each week.
I know who has true talent. I know if a song will be a
hit when I hear it the first time.
I must have been a musician in another life.
If only that were true of this one.
Someone has to be in the audience.

At our ceremony Jan and I chose songs that spoke to our hearts.
Touching songs like any other couple chooses for their wedding.
At the point of the recessional we chose something a little more upbeat.
Reflective of who we are.
I light hearted moment and blast from the past.

I’ve got you babe…

“…I got flowers in the spring
I got you to wear my ring
And when I’m sad, you’re a clown
And if I get scared, you’re always around

Don’t let them say your hair’s too long
‘Cause I don’t care, with you I can’t go wrong
Then put your little hand in mine
There ain’t no hill or mountain we can’t climb
I got you to hold my hand
I got you to understand
I got you to walk with me
I got you to talk with me
I got you to kiss goodnight
I got you to hold me tight
I got you, I won’t let go
I got you to love me so
I got you babe.”

A picture of that moment:

Katherine

My daughter is graduating next month.
I am a bundle of many emotions that I could describe,
but overwhelmingly pride in her wins out over any other.

Her prom was last week. She chose the inexpensive route of
asking a friend to do her hair and wore the same dress
as she did last year. This was her idea. I am sure she would have
loved a new dress secretly. But she saw the waste such a
purchase would be. She went and had a lovely time. No one
remembered the dress from last year.

Her senior pictures have arrived.
As lovely as I expected they would be.
She chose to order her invitations from a company on line
instead of using the cookie cutter ones the school
recommended. She was able to chose a verse and tweak
it to suit her. One that included a reference not
to a “mom and dad”, but instead it used the words
“Her Parents Invite”.

This is Kate in a nutshell, opinionated and strong.
A natural at debate. You would think that would mean she is
outspoken in a disrespectful manner and you would be wrong.
She has always respected our authority as her mothers.
We in turn respect that she knows her own mind and
what she wants for herself. There have been very few
instances where we have had to help her out of a problem.

She is a thinker, she weighs her options and the
consequences therein and then makes her choices.
We allow her freedom to find her own voice.
We have always been honest about who we are and
mistakes we have made. We have taught her that
adults are not always right.
She accepts and and appreciates that we are
willing to be wrong sometimes.

I have a world of hope for her future.
Whatever she does she will shine.
I like her as a person.
If I wasn’t her mother I would choose her
as a friend. I don’t believe parents should
treat their children as best friends.
There is a line there that should not be crossed.
A respect for my role in her life and for hers in mine.

She is ready to face the world.
I am certain she is ready to fly.
College in the spring after a summer and fall of
recovery from jaw surgery.
A step necessary to bring her time of wearing braces
to an end. A painful time for her that none of us
is looking forward to. She knows we are here and will
take care of her. Still, it’s my baby in pain.
Every mothers worse fear.

For now, graduation looms.
I sit and think of what the next month will
bring for us, for her, and I can only smile.
It is an exciting and emotional time.
Sometime later I will cry.