Saturday, December 15, 2018


What is one of your favorite stories that you tell over and over?

My favorite story, which could have been a complete and total disaster, is the time our band, Front Porch Jam, played On the Waterfront in Rockford.  I decided I needed to relieve myself before going on stage, just in case.  There was a port-a-potty at the back of the stage and so I went inside and did my business.

As you know, port-a-potties are not very comfortable and actually, quite a tight fit.  I arranged myself as well as I could.  Walking out of the potty and starting up the steps to the stage, a lady that had been waiting for the potty stopped me and told me that the skirt of my dress was in my underwear.  Talk about wanting to die just before you are really going to live.

I am so thankful to that woman, whoever she was, for having the courage to tell a stranger that they were going to make an ass of themselves in front of hundred of people.  There are some women out there who would find humor in someone else’s catastrophe. 

Peace be with you.



Sunday, December 2, 2018




Who were my favorite teachers in high school and why they were great?

This really brought back some flashes from the past for me.  I had to get out my yearbook and refresh my memory.

My absolute favorite teacher was Coach Ledford.  He was only a few years older than us Freshmen and had graduated from Carlisle High School as we would in four more years.  He was funny and very serious about Biology.  I love dissecting stuff.  He was my homeroom teacher also and so I got to see him twice a day.  Once when we were all kidding around, he had his paddle out and accidentally whacked me on my hip bone.  I cried ouch and he was so embarrassed that he turned all shades of red.  He took me and one of the basketball players to Frisch’s one night after a ball game.  I don’t remember why but I remember I had a Big Boy platter and an extra Big Boy.

Another one of my favorites teachers was Mr. Scott for American History.  He not only taught us dates and shit but told very interesting stories about history.  The best one I remember was when “Silent Cal” Coolege died, Alice Roosevelt asked, “How can you tell?”

We had a new very young, very tiny English teacher in my Senior year.  Her name was Mrs. Crecelius.  Loving English and Literature as I did, I just held on to her every word.  She was very gesticulating in her manner and sometimes we would imitate her.  Like this one time she told us she had this friend, and she held her arms straight out from her body.  Someone in class imitated her and then we all did.  It was so funny.

Our Senior cheerleading advisor was another of my favorites although not really our teacher.   She chaperoned us during practices and drove us to games that were away at other schools.  She was Native American and the first one I had ever met.  She was from North Carolina and had the loveliest accent.

The teacher I spent most time with in high school would be Mrs. Conneroe.  She was our Choir director and she was a blast.  When she directed she would wiggle her behind and looked so cute.  She was an excellent Choir director and we all just loved her.
And of course, there was my beloved Mrs. Vivian Kruse who told me I was a good writer and that I should continue to write.  Bless her heart and soul wherever she may be.

Memories, trapped between the pages of my mind…

Sunday, November 25, 2018




What concerts have you gone to and enjoyed?

The first concert I ever saw was The Temptations.  My boyfriend at the time was going to Xavier University in Cincinnati.  I drove down to Cincy and we attended the concert.  The Temptations were very popular at that time.  When music was real!

The next concert I went to was also in Cincinnati.  My boyfriend took me to see Sly and the Family Stone.  We were in the third row and were surrounded by a sea of black folks.  They stared at us in the beginning but when the music began, we were all up and dancing and singing.  I had to stand on my chair to see the musicians.  I didn’t stand long as it was a folding chair.

I have seen Jethro Tull at least four times that I can remember.  The last time I saw them I realized that Ian Anderson’s voice was going.  I guess that comes with age.

I saw Joni Mitchell in concert in Oxford, Ohio.  It was so wonderful to see her in person.  Every song was amazing.  She played her guitar, dulcimer, piano and some other gadget that I didn’t recognize.  She was at her finest.

Simon and Garfunkel were also an amazing show.  Art Garfunkel sang their new song, Bridge Over Troubled Water and you could have heard a pin drop it was so fantastic.
I was so glad to see Dan Fogelberg.  He died about two years after that concert in Rockford at the Coronado Theater.  The band that played with him were musicians from Spirit.  I guess they all lived close by in Colorado.

A really wonderful concert was James Taylor, again at the Coronado.  He had a picture screen behind him and showed various photos and told stories about the pictures.  He played acoustic guitar and at one point another musician accompanied him.

The Dave Mathews Band concert was a disappointment.  It was on a hill in Wisconsin and the band was about two inches big.  Everyone around sang to every song and we danced also.

I have seen Emerson, Lake and Palmer three times.  The last time was the last really big concert that we saw.  You could smoke in the arena in those days and there were more than just cigarettes burning.  My eyes cried, and my ears were about to burst.  I gave up concerts for quite some time.

I do love the venue at the Coronado and wish they would have more good concerts there.  I’d love to see Cat Stevens (I know that is not his name now and he sings children’s’ songs).  Bonnie Raitt is another musician I’d love to see.  The Barenaked Ladies would also thrill me.

My favorite live band, The Blue Olives, have changed.  They have a new guitar player and I only see them playing in Wisconsin.  I wish they would come back to the Best Dan Bar.

There is just nothing so special to me as live music.  Photo is The Blue Olives.

Peace be with you.

Sunday, November 11, 2018




If I could have a talent, what would it be?

Yesterday, I went to Monroe, Wisconsin with my girlfriend, Lauri.  We went to see A Star Is Born.  I saw the trailer on line and have wanted to see it ever since.  I loved the old one with Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristopherson.

Lauri and I arrived early and decided to walk around the square.  We put in a reservation at Pancho and Lefty’s and were told there would be a twenty-minute wait.

We went into Baumgartner’s.  She used the restroom and I looked at cheeses.  They had a piece of Roquefort, but it was like thirty dollars.  I asked the kid behind the counter what cheese sandwich was the most popular.  Unbelievably, muenster was the answer.  Ish and ick.  For those of you not familiar with Baumgartner’s in Monroe, Wisconsin, it is the home of the cheese sandwich.

We sauntered back over to Pancho and Lefty’s but Lauri (Miss absent minded) couldn’t find her glasses or her phone.  She went back to her car and I grabbed us a seat at the bar. We split a bacon bleu cheese burger and guacamole.  We had a short Spotted Cow beer which was on tap and was actually very good.  I don’t usually like Spotted Cow in a bottle.

BTW, if you haven’t been to Monroe to Pancho and Lefty’s you must go.  That bacon bleu cheese burger is the best burger I’ve had in a very long time.  They also have some smoked ribs that look pretty appetizing.  And Korean tacos that sound amazing.

We decided to check out the chocolate shop and I got a piece of chocolate shaped like the state of Wisconsin.  I intended it to be my treat at the movie but forgot it in my purse and didn’t eat it.  Lauri got some chocolate dipped cookies.

We still had a few minutes and went to the ice cream shop and got a small Butter Pecan cone, which was truly delicious.

Finally making it to the movie theater, we got excellent seats as there was no one else in the place.  And it was only $6.50 for the tickets.

And so, the show began.  It was a little slow but as I didn’t have any knowledge of either of the actors, I found it interesting.  A couple of the songs were very nice.  I wasn’t taken by Lady Gaga’s (what kind of name is that?) voice at first.  She has a lovely low range but when she hits the high notes, I think she is kind of creepy.

This guy, Bradley Cooper, is gorgeous!  I read that he practiced for a year and a half to play the guitar for this movie.  He was pretty good.  God, was he hot!

I had heard this story was a tear jerker and knew that from the old movie I had seen in the 70’s.  But when she walked onto the stage with Jackson to sing a song she had written, in front of thousands of people, I cried.  I love to sing in front of people.  I have sung at On the Waterfront in front of a lot of people and it was the absolute thrill of my lifetime.

If I could have one talent it would be to be able to read music and play an instrument, so I could sing along.  In elementary school when they introduced music, my parents decided they couldn’t afford the rental of the instrument.  And so, I missed my chance at learning music.  I can sing and play things by ear but given the sheet music I am at a loss.  In choir, I listened to the part I was to sing and could sing it back easily.

In choir once, I was asked to sing my part.  As I was singing solo my best friend at the time snuck up behind me and pulled my half slip down around my ankles.  I did not sing again until I was in my 30’s.  A group of friends would get together and play guitars and sing and I was encouraged by my good friend, Joe Clark, to sing before the microphone.  I will never be able to thank him enough.

Music is my favorite language.  It brings people together.  It makes people happy.

I am going to a local bar today to hear my friend, Joe Clark, and his new band.  I can’t wait.  Celebrate live music whenever you can.

Peace be with you.  And music too!




What have I changed my mind about as I grow older?

When I was a child, I thought the world so wonderful and beautiful.  Everything around me was so fun and special.  I loved playing, singing, being around other people.  As I have grown older and seen much more of the world, I now know that there is a division in the kinds of people in the world.

There are givers and there are takers.  And these taking people take and take from those around them and never offer anything positive to the world.  And the givers wear themselves out trying to keep the peace.

And there are people who get up in the morning intending to put anger and hatred into those around them.  There are people who see nothing but hatred and negativity in the world.  They look upon their fellow man as an enemy and want to take them down any way they can.  And I feel sorry for these people, but I try my best to avoid them whenever I can.

I worked with the public in many of my jobs and have been treated like a piece of fecal matter.  I have had people attack me for no reason at all except that they hated their lives and wanted everyone around them to feel as badly as they did.

I have also known folks who wear their heart on their hand and would help anyone including those negative assholes I mentioned above.

I have tried to stay in the middle.  If I have contact with someone whose aura is negative and infuriated, I try to steer clear of them or at least to maintain my calmness.  But if I meet a real human being, I give it my all to share happiness and positivity.

I have always said that I don’t really care for 80 percent of the people that I know.  But that other 20 percent, they are my people.  They are the true human beings and I appreciate them to the fullest.

Life is short.  Be kind, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

Peace be with you.

Saturday, October 27, 2018




I have this sorry-ass best friend.  Her name is Garnett Smith.  She is a hermit and lazy and can avoid things you cannot believe.  She didn’t avoid death this past week.  My heart is broken as I loved her like a sister.

Garnett was a state of Illinois employee and like most government employees, got pretty used to being lazy.  Garnett was a registered nurse for most of her life.  She got her start in the Navy.

I don’t remember when I met Garnett.  She lived two houses away from me for years.  I think I met her at my closest neighbor’s when she threw a party.  Garnett wasn’t much for parties, but she loved her music.  I believe we became close when all our friends used to play music in our garage.  The neighbors would put lawn chairs out in their driveway and listen to us practice.  I think Garnett walked over and joined us.

Garnett was pretty shy with her musical talent.  She sang only on occasion and I only heard her play her guitar once.  One of her favorite songs was “Over the Rainbow”.  She played it for me and sang once.

Garnett worked at Singer Mental Health facility when I met her.  I signed up as a temp and got a job working in the facility with her.  My first introduction to this job was the employees discussing a patient who had tied her shoestrings around her neck while wearing her bed sheet.  I had many horrendous surprises while working at Singer.

Garnett and I took walks at noon around the campus.  When we got home from work we would meet up and ride our bikes around the lake which is six plus miles.  We would get halfway around, and she would beg me to turn around and go back because she didn’t think she could make it.  (This was so like everything she did.)  When we made it back to our house she would yell, “Let’s go around again.”  I resisted smacking her.

The Singer place closed down and Garnett and her husband retired.  I lost track of her as she had moved to Rockford.

One day I was at a local gas station and she was working as the cashier.  We started up planning to get together and it didn’t happen.

Years later I got to know Garnett’s friend, Charyl.  She, Garnett and I decided to go kayaking at a nearby lake.  We got to the place and headed for the rental area.  Garnett decided she couldn’t do this, and she wanted to sit in the car and wait for us.  Charyl said, “Absolutely not, you are coming with us.”  We almost dragged Garnett to the checkout.

We got to the kayaks and Charyl went first.  Then I got Garnett settled into the kayak and pushed her into the lake.  She yelled, “There is a snake in the water!”  As I am deathly afraid of snakes I almost backed out.  But I persevered and got into my kayak and pushed off with my oar.

We kayaked out into the middle of the lake.  Charyl and Garnett popped a beer each.  There was no alcohol allowed at this lake.  I joined them in a beer.  Garnett went on and on about how much she loved kayaking.  I threatened to hit her with my oar but was afraid I would overturn.



Two weeks later I discovered that not only Charyl, but Garnett had purchased their own kayaks.  I continued to rent, or borrowed Charyl’s is she couldn’t go with us.
Garnett and I kayaked on the lake where we lived.  It was early morning and hardly anyone was on the lake.  It was so peaceful.

Garnett not being shy about bodily functions was a big belcher.  She proudly let them roar anytime she felt the need.  Out on the lake, her belch roared and echoed.  She was so proud!

Our mutual friend, Terry, had cancer and was very ill.  Garnett and I visited her, and Garnett explained that she also had been told she had cancer of her aorta.  She had surgery and they removed the artery and replaced it with one from her leg.  She was slightly deformed by the surgery, but it was a miracle surgery.  Our friend unfortunately did not have a miracle and passed away.

The surgeon had nicked a nerve in Garnett’s tongue during the surgery and she had so many problems because of it.  She lost two teeth.  She also talked like she was shit faced (which she probably was) but I knew better.  She had a medical marijuana card and enjoyed it frequently.  She also carried a mug which usually had a beer with water in it.  She snuck Rumchata into restaurants and added it to her coffee.

The worst part of the nerve damage was that she couldn’t eat much.  She couldn’t’ chew meat and gave that up first.  She was a steak and potatoes or Mexican food freak.  Breakfast was usually a tostado for her.

She couldn’t’ taste much either and ate mostly French fries with a lot of salt.  I’m saying salt on the plate and dipping the fry in it.

I decided she was going to discover other foods and I took her to a Greek festival and she fell in love with stuffed grape leaves.  We went to an Indian buffet and she ate an entire plateful of food and went back for seconds.  We ate at that buffet many times.  I also introduced her to Thai and Chinese.  She didn’t take to either as she didn’t like or eat rice.
We had many adventures when I got her out of her hermitage.  We went on a tour of the Japanese Garden in Rockford as well as a tour in a boat on the Rock River.  We visited the Nicholas Conservatory and saw the butterfly display as well as the orchid display.  We tried to go to the Rotary Gardens in Janesville but got lost and I was to blame.  Charyl was with us and she gave me what for!

We found out that Garnett had never seen the Rocky Mountains and so Charyl, my husband and I took Garnett to Denver.  We had too much fun as usual.  When we left she called the mountains, “her mountains”.

Charyl had this most wonderful garden at her house.  It was covered and surrounded by lattice.  She had a hot tub, firepit and a dining room in this garden.  We three girls had a sleepover at the garden one summer evening.  We had entirely too much fun and I was surprised the neighbors didn’t call the cops.

I learned many surprising things about my precious friend.  She was half Mexican.  She had a baby when she was young, and his name was Christopher.  He died of SIDs when she and her husband were out for New Years Eve.  She never celebrated on NYE ever again.  She was in the Navy when she was just out of high school but got discharged when they caught her dealing marijuana.  Bless her heart!  She also had polio as a child and had very weak legs as a result.

She also had a daughter.  Her name was Jenny and she lived with Garnett and her husband for maybe a year or two during high school.  Jenny didn’t like living with Garnett and went back to her Dad.  Jenny also, for some reason unknown to me, never communicated with her mother again.  Garnett would visit her on occasion when she went to that town to visit other relatives.

The last few months of her life, Garnett did so many things on her bucket list.  Charyl had moved to Florida and Garnett and I flew down and stayed with her for a few days.  I couldn’t believe it, but Garnett went back not once but several times by herself.  The last time in June, Garnett went parasailing with Charyl.  The next month she, her husband and her son, Peter, went skydiving.

Our mutual friend, Nancy, got a day off from her hell job and Garnett, Nancy and I went out to lunch at one of our favorite places.  They have a deck and you can eat outside.  We spent at least two hours there laughing and enjoying several dishes.  Afterwards we went back to Nancy’s and tried out her new swimming pool.  Nancy’s neighbor, Steve, joined us girls.  We were lounging on our little floaties when Nancy suggested I try her new floatie.  As I jumped on it there was a tremendous wave and Steve was thrown into the air and out of the pool.  I thought I’d pee myself laughing.  I think Garnett and Nancy did.

I am so thankful for that wonderful day because it was the last time I saw my friend.  She became quite ill and didn’t know much of what was happening around her.  The cancer had returned.  Her husband said she didn’t want anyone to see her like that.

My husband got a call last Saturday from Garnett’s husband and he said she had passed that day.  Her husband and son were by her side, as well as her daughter, Jenny.

There is a hole in my heart and soul.  Garnett lived the last five years of her life with fourth stage cancer.  We had so many adventures and I will never forget her.  There will never be anyone quite like Garnett.



Friday, October 12, 2018




What are my favorite songs?

I have so many favorite songs that it is difficult to choose.  One of my most favorite songs is by the Beatles.  “And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make”.  I have always lived by that line in the song.

Of course, Jethro Tull, being one of my very favorite bands, I have several favorites by them.  is one of the most beautiful love songs ever written.  Look into the Sun is also “Reasons for Waiting” a favorite.  “My God” is part of my Pantheist beliefs.  “He is the god of everything, he’s inside you and me.”  “Slipstream” is another favorite Tull song.

"Crazy Love" by Poco is one song I love and I just love to sing. " As the Raven Flies" by Dan Fogleberg is another that I love and love to sing.

Leon Russell wrote another one of the most romantic songs ever written.  It is “A Song for You.”  The hubster and I danced to this song while Leon sang it live.  That is one of the most memorable moments in my life.

Speaking of the hubster, there are two songs that made me fall for him.  Years ago when I was a teenager, I used to listen to the radio at night.  I tuned in all kinds of weird stations and one of them was a Chicago station that was so popular at the time.  They played this song that I fell in love with.  It is “Not Enough Love to go Round.”  The hubster had this album and the song was on it.  It is by Rare Bird.

The other song is not a song but an album.  It is Dvorak’s New World Symphony.  The hubster also had that album.  The section called “Goin’ Home” is really one of my all-time favorites.  When you girls were in choir, you sang that song and I cried like a baby.  Thank you.

Thursday, October 11, 2018




What is the best advice your mother gave you?
I Killed My Best Friend

            I killed my best friend. This happened almost twenty years ago and I am still haunted by it to this day.  I’m sure I will never forgive myself for causing this death.

            Boris was my dog and my best friend for nine years.  He was a mutt and he barked entirely too much but there has never been anyone or anything in my life that gave me as much love and devotion as he did.

The first time I saw him, I feel completely in love.  He was part Basset Hound and part collie.  The owner told me he thought he had a little Saint Bernard in him too.  He sure looked it.   He had this huge head for his little body.  He had short little legs and long white fur with a brown saddle that was lopsided.  When he was an adult his saddle looked like a silhouette of Mickey Mouse’s head.  My girls always referred to him as “the Mickey Mouse dog”.

            When I got home from work, he was there to welcome me.  He sat when I told him to and came to me whenever I requested.  He had the cutest method of letting me know when he was hungry or thirsty.  He brought his bowl to me or if it overturned, he would chase it around the kitchen making the loudest ruckus imaginable.  He let me know when the mail arrived or the newspaper came by, barking as if unknown assassins were attacking us.

            I always felt comfortable being at home by myself because Boris let me know if anyone was within walking distance of the house by barking.  He barked at anyone who came to visit us.  If he didn’t quit barking when I told him to, I never trusted that person.  His instincts were always correct.

            Boris loved it when I blew soap bubbles.  He would jump and bite them and jump back in wonder when they popped in his mouth.  I trained him to let me wipe his paws when he came in out of the rain, snow or mud.  I would just say, “puppy paws” to him and he would lift each paw for me to wipe with a towel before he entered the house.

            We bought our home and didn’t have furniture in it for three years.  Our living room was filled with Boris’ toys, dog bones and chews and his knotted socks with which we played tug of war.  We referred to our living room as “Borrie, Borrie Land”.

            A friend once threw a firecracker on the ground at a 4th of July celebration and Boris sniffed it as it exploded.  Thereafter he was afraid of fireworks, guns and thunderstorms.  I have held him drooling and shaking with fright many times.  We finally got tranquilizers for him for the 4th of July.

            He was seven years old when my husband and I had our first daughter.  He ignored her mostly and was obviously jealous of my attention to her.  He sat by my side as I nursed her and when she was big enough to be put into her “Johnny Jump Up” he would dodge past her and spin her around to her delight.

            My husband found this Basset Hound and brought him home.  We named his Taylor and he was Boris’ new friend.  We thought that having a buddy might be beneficial for Boris.  He finally took to the second dog, although I don’t think I ever did.  Two dogs inside the house just became too much for me.

            When our second daughter was born, Boris became more of a nuisance than a friend to me.  He would bark when they were napping and awaken them.  Having two little ones less than two years apart, I needed my rest as well during their naps.  I found I could not run to the door to let him back inside as quickly as the neighbors liked.  They complained about his barking.  I tried to appease everyone as best as I could.

            My girls were now getting around the house and were naturally curious about the dogs.  I caught Boris snapping at them on occasion.  I began to fear that he might bite one of them.

            Taylor was also a nuisance.  He taught Boris to drink from the toilet and I constantly had to clean up their messes.  He also taught Boris to eat the garbage.  They would tear into the bags or knock over the trash can while I was away or tied up with the girls.  I became weary of cleaning up their messes.  Two dogs and two children were getting to me.

            Money was tight in those days and we just managed to struggle by.  Two babies in diapers, baby food, groceries, laundry detergent and dog food for two dogs were taking most of our money.  I had to find a part time job and I had to set priorities and take care of things.

            We advertised and sold Taylor to a family and took care of one of our big problems.  Because Boris was an older dog we couldn’t find anyone who was interested in adopting him.  The pet shelter would take him but didn’t promise that he would be adopted because of his age.  He would be put to sleep in a month if he wasn’t adopted by then.

            Boris developed a sore on his rear end and after a while the bump swelled into a large growth that was beginning to bother him.  He would lick at it and rub his behind on the carpet at the most inopportune times.

            We could not afford the surgery to remove Boris’ growth and the vet explained to me that it could possibly be cancer and surgery might not save him.  I made a decision and we carried it through. I could not allow strangers at the pet shelter to put my Boris to sleep.  I knew I would have to do it myself.

            I held my dog as the vet injected the shot that would end his life.  I knew the instant that life left him.  He haunts my dreams to this day.

            After Boris’ death my mother gave me the best advice she has ever given me.  She said, “Just don’t think about it.”  She advised me to know I had made a decision, I had gone with it, it was over and I should get on with life.  That is how I got through the first year.  Boris finally left my constant thoughts.  The guilt has remained but whenever I think of him and am overcome with emotion, I just don’t think about it. Today, I thought about it.  I wrote about it and I think I feel much better about it. 

            I remember my dog daily.  I don’t think a day goes by that I don’t think of him.  I will never forgive myself for killing him.  If there is a Hell, I am positive I will be going there because I killed something that I loved dearly.  I am relieved that I have shared this story.


Friday, October 5, 2018




How has the country changed since I was a child?

I suppose in this day and age, the most obvious change has been in the morals of the elected officials.  In the 50’s people admired our President and elected officials.  These folks had character and grace.  It was unheard of for one to attack another even with their language.  Teachers, policemen, anyone in authority was respected and admired.  My parents taught me to respect my elders.  Kidnappings and abductions were for the famous, not your every-day kid.

The morality of the people was different also.  Ozzie and Harriet and Desi and Lucy slept in twin beds not in a double with each other.  The Ed Sullivan dancing girls were quite risqué with their short costumes and low necklines.  Teenagers were not sneaking off to screw but to share one tiny little kiss.

I believe if an entertainer like Beyonce had come on the Ed Sullivan Show, my dad would have pitched our tv into the yard.  Let alone Madonna or Miley Cyrus!  Our entertainers were clean cut all-American girls and boys next door types.

Children were a lot different.  We did not sass our parents or we would have gotten smacked in the mouth or a belt to the behind or legs.  We knew when and where to comment on adult conversations.  We cleaned up and wore our best outfit to church on Sunday.  And when we got home, we took off that good outfit for play clothes so as not to ruin our Sunday best.

And we played outside.  We played baseball in the lot next door with all the kids in the neighborhood on teams.  No one was left out even if they were lousy players.  The girls jumped rope and played jacks, the boys practiced hitting baseballs or carving stuff with their Boy Scout knives.  We played on the swingset and went down the slide, sometimes head first.  We climbed the monkey bars and rode round and round on the merry-go-round.  We jumped off swings and off the see-saw to see our partner’s face.  We rolled down hills to see who could go the farthest.  We ran through the sprinkler when the days got hot and wore bread bags on our feet in the winter to go outside and build a snowman.  We built tens out of mom’s old sheets and pretended to camp.

Families went on picnics or to the pond to go fishing.  I remember well going to the creek to fish and swim.  We went on hikes in the fall to search for the elusive Pawpaw.  They are a fruit similar to a banana.

Our family sat down to eat together.  We said grace first to be thankful for the food and the health of the people at the table.  We ate simple food but food rich in vitamins and minerals that was grown in our garden.

The country has changed considerably since I was a child.  But I who love technology (if only I could understand and deal with it better on my own) am not sorry for most of the changes.  I do wish that there was a better morality in our society and a better work ethic.

But this society is not my making.  I raised my family and lived among my neighbors with my morals and ethic.  I am satisfied with what I did in my own back yard.  I am proud of how my girls have turned out.  And I am glad to pass on this next generation to them.

Peace be with you.

Photo is of me, my cousin, my friend and her cousin eating watermelon on the porch.
Faye, Jeanie, Trish and me.

Sunday, September 30, 2018




Who do I admire and who would I want to thank?

I believe the first person I ever admired was my first-grade teacher, Mrs. Esther Lowman.  Mrs. Lowman seemed ancient to me in first grade but in my Senior year of high school I assisted her in her Kindergarten classroom and she really seemed ancient then.  Mrs. Lowman had built a life-sized pony out of paper mache and it was on wheels.  If you were very good, you got to ride on the pony.  Being the naughty little girl that I was, I decided one day that I would ride Daisy, the pony.  I put my left foot in the stirrup and as I flung my right leg upward onto the pony, I accidentally kicked Mrs. Lowman in the behind.  And not just in the behind but right in her butthole.  I believe I stood in the corner for most of that day.  She must have forgiven me for the goosing since I got to be her helper some eleven years later.

I had a friend who truly inspired me.  Her name was Kay Kulikowski Watkins.  She was lovely, talented, soft natured, and introduced me to organic gardening and herbs.  She had the softest southern accent.  After I had my first daughter, Kay came to visit and sat with Addi on her lap and sang softly to her.  I believe it was the inspiration for Kay to have a baby.  Like myself, Kay had two daughters.

Another person who I admire is my good friend, Laurie Timmerman.  She can do anything.  She roofed her house, she laid the wood flooring in my bathroom.  She is just so unstoppable.  And in the last few months she has become happy and it shows.

The other admiration in my life was the hubster’s grandmother, Marge Faerber.  She was a tiny little thing, but oh my, what a fabulous human being.  She took care of her husband who had had a stroke and was incapacitated.  She raised two wonderful sons.  She gardened all of her life and grew the most delicious red raspberries.  She also made a kick ass apricot pie.

These admirations are because of patience, overcoming any obstacle, and love of life.  These are qualities that I strive for but fail miserably.

Two of the people that I want to thank for helping mold me into who I have become are Mr. Vic Cummins and Mr. Nicholas, my junior high math and science teacher.  I have managed to thank both of them.

Mr. Cummins hired me as his junior executive secretary when I was twenty-four.  He changed my life for the better.  I had been temping as a secretary and this was my big opportunity.  I had worked in a factory, in a restaurant and other dead-end jobs.  The Mead Corporation was a fabulous opportunity for this small-town country hick girl.  The corporation gave us new secretaries classes in make-up, dress, courtesy.  We worked in beautiful offices and were respected.  I sent Mr. Cummins a birthday card every year on September 2.  He passed away a few years ago.  I will always remember him with fondness.

Mr. Nicholas, I forgot his first name, was so patient.  And patience with seventh and eight grade children is not an easy task.  I found my love of math in his classroom.  I attended a wedding of a classmate years after I had graduated from high school and Mr. Nicholas was there.  I went up to him and shook his hand and told him who I was.  And I thanked him for his math classes. ( We were in his class when they announced that President Kennedy had been killed.)  I think I also apologized for being such a butt cheese in his classes.

The person that I would really like to thank but probably never will is Mrs. Vivian Kruse.  I had her for Sophomore English class.  She told me that I was a good writer and that I should continue writing.  And now how many years later, I am still writing.

I haven’t written much in the past while because I have been in a funk from feeling really lousy.  It all started in May when I got a sinus infection and pneumonia.  Six weeks later I broke my little toe.  Two weeks after that my lower back went out and I am just now recovering.  My left shoulder has a big lump in it and aches almost all the time.  And I had to put out another six hundred bucks on my truck. 

Sage has been burned daily and I am finally starting to feel like a human being again.  Today is the third day in a row that I haven’t had to take pain meds.

Peace be with you.

Wednesday, September 12, 2018




I was reading on FB about a lady that had predicted the September 11 events.  And other predictions that she made before her death.  It was pretty scary.

I wanted to share a dream I had the week before the bombing of the twin towers.

September 8, 2001

I had a most disturbing dream.  I dreamed I was at a party and Kim Clark and I wandered outside.  There was a beautiful garden and I noticed that there were fish swimming in the air around the garden bed and I thought what a beautiful thing to be in a garden.

I hear airplanes overhead and I looked up.  Airplanes were crossing over the sky and crashing.  They just kept on and on until there was a pile of wreckage.

Kim decided to go back to the party and I told her not to go.  I was afraid.  I looked up and there was a skyscraper and I screamed, “it is going to fall.  The building is going to fall.”  I rushed inside to warn my friends.

When I awoke I told Rick of my dream.

This happened the Saturday before September 11.  When I called Rick that day he said to me, “nice dream!”


Sunday, September 2, 2018




My Daddy

          “Anyone can be a father but it takes a special person to be a daddy.”  Hallmark card

          This morning at our usual Sunday breakfast, I had a wonderful realization about my father.  My friend was telling a story and responded that she saw a lot of her father in her son and in herself.  I thought to myself and brought to my mind’s eye an image of my own father.  I told the group at the breakfast table that I thought the only thing of my father that I had inherited was the ability to tell a good story.

          Later while writing in my journal I realized what a marvelous gift my father had given me.  I am a writer.  I tell stories and thanks to my father’s gene pool, I tell a pretty good tale.

          When I was a little girl one of my favorite things to do was to say to my father, “Daddy, tell us something about down home.”  My parents were from the rural Kentucky hills and their childhood seemed to be Waltonesque to me.  Big family, not much money but a whole lot of love and adventures for kids running free in the countryside.

          My dad would conjure up a story about when he was a kid.  He had such wonderful stories to tell.  My favorite one was about the time his brother had challenged him to see who could throw a rock the farthest and my father had hit his brother right between the eyes with his throw.  We would all laugh and Daddy would just beam with obvious delight.  We kids would ask for more and more stories and he would agree and give us another rendition of one of his favorite memories.

          The things that made my father’s stories so good were the fact that they were real and had actually happened.  He used expression in his face as he told the stories and you could tell from his face that he was reliving those moments as he told us about them.  He would laugh and clap his hands and we would cry, “what then? What then?” and he would entice us further even if we had heard the story before.         

Daddy had so many stories about hunting and courting my mother and stories about his brother and sisters.  My most unfavorite were the snake stories because I would have bad dreams.  My mother would try to hush these stories but once he got on a roll there was no turning back.

          I think the reason I loved my daddy’s stories so much were that they allowed me a glimpse of him when he was young.  When I envision my daddy I see him, as he was young, smiling and handsome with such beautiful wavy dark hair.  I’ve heard it said that it is a shame that we didn’t know our parents when they were young.  Because of my father’s stories, I did know him when he was young.  He will always be young to me.  And he was a very special person.