Visions Inside My Mind

After the Rain

2011-09-21T07:18:00.000-07:00

If someone were to ask me what is the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done I would have to say being a caregiver for my Mom. If someone were to ask me what is the hardest thing I’ve ever done I would have to say being a caregiver for my Mom. My Mom had asked me to move in with her. My brother was living there but there were things a son could not do that a daughter could. I was her caregiver for six years. We lost Mom on May 26, 2010. I discovered there is no manual for being a caregiver. You have to work it out on your own.

The emotional toll of watching someone you love as they get progressively weaker is extremely hard. I saw Mom getting more and more bent over as the arthritis took its toll. Her weight dropped and when she passed away she was only 94 pounds. She looked like a skeleton with skin over it. For someone who was always so robust seeing the change in her was heart breaking. It is hard to come to grips with the fact that the person you are caring for is in a decline and the end will be sooner then you would ever want it to be. You are going to lose them and that is the hardest thing to cope with.

There will be tears and you need to have a place that you can retreat to because you don’t want them to see you cry. It is important that you be able to get away if only for a few minutes to decompress. It is stressful being a caregiver and you need to take care of yourself. I found that my Dad’s library was my place. We lost him in 1999. Dad and I were really close and it was a comfort to me to be in the room where he had spent so many happy hours. I set up my computer there and worked on my art and writing and photography. I did several pictures for my Mom. She loved flowers and I printed out the photographs from my walks for her.

We were lucky because Mom never developed dementia. She might forget where she left her keys or tell the same story more then once but her mind was sharp to the end. One thing that Mom needed was someone to listen to her. She wanted to talk about Dad. She missed him so much and often talked about wanting to join him. It was hard to hear her talk about wanting to die. I listened to her and that gave her comfort.

Being a caregiver is hard but being a patient is even harder. Mom was frustrated that she could no longer do all the things she did when she was younger. She tired so easily. She used to love to take long walks and look at the flowers. I took the walks for her and took hundreds of pictures of flowers, squirrels, birds, snow, leaves turning, blossoms in the Spring, and anything that looked interesting. I printed off the pictures for her so she could continue to see the places she used to walk. Often times she would ask me to go out and take pictures of something she wanted to see.

As a caregiver you need to be able to give hugs, to listen, to comfort, and to give love. For many of us the patient was a family member. As the song says:

We did what we had to do
Won't forget, can't regret
What I did for love what I did for love

The Unspoken Heroes of Iwo Jima (Repeat)

2011-08-14T06:03:00.000-07:00

“Were it not for the Navajos, the Marines would never have taken Iwo Jima,” Major Howard Connor, 5^th Marine Division

I originally posted this a couple of years ago. Today is National Navajo Code Talker Day and I felt that this needed to be reposted to honor these brave men. It was from my father, who served in the Pacific during World War II, that I originally heard of the Navajo Code Talkers. While Pat Buchanan tries to claim it was only white men who won the war the truth is that many people, men and women, from all walks of life and of all races, were responsible for the success in both the European and Pacific fronts. As a small child I lived in New Mexico and that started my fascination with the Navajo people. This is the story of the brave men who risked their lives to help us win in the Pacific.

One of the biggest problems for the U.S. Armed Forces in the Pacific was communications. Japanese cryptographers were breaking our codes as fast as we could come up with them. Many of the Japanese code breakers had been educated in the United States and were familiar with American colloquialisms, slang terms and even profanity. This resulted in American battle plans being known to the enemy sometimes before they were even operational. We needed a code that could not be broken. In spite of their treatment by the white man, the Navajos took an active part in World War I and World War II. In World War II 3,600 Navajos fought for their country. This represented one of the highest population of any ethnicity in the U.S. military. Most of the Navajos fought in the battlefields with ordinary soldiers. Over 10,000 Navajos worked in military factories during the war. 375 to 420 Navajos, however, worked as Code Talkers.

Philip Johnston was the son of Protestant missionaries and grew up on the Navajo Reservation and lived among the Navajos for 24 years. He was one of the few non-Navajos who spoke the language fluently. Johnston was a World War I veteran and knew that in that war that Native American languages, notably Choctaw, had been used in codes. He figured that the Navajo language was perfect for an unbreakable code since it was an unwritten language and included a number of words that, when spoken with varying inflections, may have as many as four different meanings and its verb forms are particularly complex. Its syntax and tonal qualities, not to mention dialects, makes it unintelligible to anyone without extensive exposure and training. With no alphabet or written form available for others to study it was a language that could only be understood by another Navajo. It has been estimated that only 30 non-Navajos could understand the language at the outbreak of World War II and none of those 30 were Japanese.

Philip Johnston, with the aid of four Navajos residing in the Los Angeles area and another who was already on active duty in Naval service in San Diego presented a demonstration to Major General Clayton B. Vogel, the commanding general of Amphibious Corps, Pacific Fleet and his staff. In simulated combat situations the Navajos demonstrated that they could encode, transmit,and decode three-line English messages in 20 seconds. The encoding machines in use at that time needed 30 minutes to perform the same tasks.

In May 1942, the first 29 recruits attended boot camp in Camp Pendleton in Oceanside, California. It was this first group that developed the code and a dictionary and numerous words for military terms. The initial code consisted of translations for 211 English words most common in military conversations. An additional 200 words were added making a total of 411 terms that needed to be memorized. The code was never written down and was always only spoken. Chester Nez was one of the original code talkers. He said, “Everything we used in code was what we lived with on the reservation every day, like the ants, the birds, bears. Thus the term for a tank was turtle, a tank destroyer was tortoise killer. A battleship was whale. A hand grenade was potato and plain old bombs were eggs. A fighter plane was hummingbird, and a torpedo plane swallow. A sniper was pick em off. Pyrotechnic was fancy fire.”

The Navajo Code Talkers took part in Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Peleliu, and Iwo Jima. They took part in every assault the Marines conducted in the Pacific from 1942 to 1945. They served in all six Marine divisions, Marine Raider battalions and Marine parachute units during the war. They had to prove their worth but once they did it became obvious that we would need them to win the war. The Navajos had an additional problem because many of the young recruits had trouble with thinking that the Navajos were Japanese. It was at Iwo Jima that any doubts anyone had about the Navajos were laid to rest. The six men attached to that Marine Division worked around the clock during the first two days of the battle and sent and received over 800 messages, all without error.

The Japanese chief of intelligence, Lieutenant General Seizo Arisue, said that while they were able to crack the codes used by the U.S. Army and Army Air Corps they were never able to break the Navajo used by the Marines. These were truly valuable people.

So what did these heroes have to look forward to? They weren’t given the right to vote in Arizona until 1948, in New Mexico until 1953, and in Utah until 1957. The world didn’t even know about them until 1968. Many feel that a factor in this was the fact that while the Code Talkers were risking their lives during the Second World War at home their children were being punished for speaking their native language. Finally however in December 1981 they were awarded a Certificate of Appreciation from the President of the United States. The Navajo Code Talkers were the unspoken heroes of Iwo Jima and World War II for much too long.

The Kitties and I Have A Home

2011-07-10T15:10:00.000-07:00

Seven years ago I packed up all of my things from my apartment in Gurnee, Illinois and headed to Greencastle, Indiana. I left the job I loved there because my Mom had asked me to come live with her and help take care of her. Mom had a series of heart attacks and even though she would continue working full time for four more years she realized that there were things that only a daughter could do for her. She was very old fashioned and the thought of asking her son to put lotion on the dry skin on her back was something she could never do. I put 95% of my things in storage and moved in with my cat Merlin. The two of us basically had the bedroom upstairs and part of my late Dad’s den. Being a caretaker was the hardest and the most rewarding thing I have ever done. I was working full time to pay my bills and taking care of Mom in the hours I wasn’t working. On May 26, 2010 Mom died in the early hours of the morning with her cat Pixie at her side. As hard as it was to lose her it had been harder watching her deteriorate before my eyes. She was down to 94 pounds when she died. I gave myself a year to adjust and then made what hopefully will be my last move this time to Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

I took the apartment sight unseen because it is only a mile from my niece’s house where she lives with her husband and three teenagers. She had asked that I move down after Mom died. I discovered that the storage shed was not only not climate controlled but rat infested. I lost a lot of things and had to do major clean up and repacking. Everything in storage had to be washed and disinfected. When I got down to the apartment house the first thing my niece and I discovered as we were waiting for the lady to come with the keys is that my front door looked like the Tardis from Doctor Who. At that point I knew whatever the inside looked like I had a winner. I am a huge Doctor Who fan. The inside had some major things going for it and a couple of minor problems that I could work around. One thing I loved is that the walls are not bright white. They are a soft creamy beige and are a wood paneling instead of stucco. The ceiling and trim is white. The carpets are not beige thank goodness. They are a re dark charcoal gray tweed. The kitchen was very small and the cabinets narrow. Being a serious cook I had to get a shelf unit to put much of my cooking equipment on. The dining room is tiny but since my dining room table is a card table it worked out. I was able to get a full size washer and dryer. There is no linen closet or coat closet but I made a cabinet for the lines and there are two huge clothes closets in the two bedroom so the coats have a place to go.

I came down the first time by myself and got the apartment. I waited for the movers to unload hundreds of boxes and started in. I took a break half way through unpacking and went back to Indiana and got my cats. I had promised Mom that I would take care of her Pixie. Merlin loves the place and I think he recognizes the furniture from when we lived in Illinois. He is much more secure down here. Pixie is a little timid never having moved before but she is making the place her own.

One thing I have noticed is that there is a sense of peace in this apartment like I have never experienced before. I think Mom and Dad’s house was haunted by Dad dying in the front yard and Mom in her bedroom. Even though I have a lot of things from their home here I think that it is only the happy memories that moved to North Carolina. I am starting a new life and a new business. I retired in October and now I am starting a home business to sell my art, photographs, jewelry and crafts. I am very excited to be a part of the Art’s Community out here in Winston Salem and they have already taken me into their hearts as well. I am near my niece who is also my goddaughter and her children. I feel very loved and I have been very busy. I have already been introduced to people who are fighting homelessness and I am already starting to help out. My life is full and I am happy. This is my new home. It is peaceful and happy and most importantly has the kitty seal of approval from Merlin and Pixie. Life doesn’t get better then that.

Office, Computer Room, Crafts Room

Happy Birthday Mom and Pixie

2011-07-05T21:02:00.000-07:00

Today would have been my Mom’s 86^th birthday. It is the second birthday without her being here. We lost her on 05/26/10. I miss her but it is a little easier this year then last. My Mom had decided that her cat Pixie needed to share her birthday since we weren’t quite sure when the little monkey was born. Pixie was her companion in her last five years of life and I’m sure that it was the love she has for this little rascal that kept Mom’s severely damaged heart beating for as long as it did.

I have recently made the move from Indiana down to North Carolina to be near my niece and her family. I also came down to be a part of the art community down here and will be getting a resale license so that I can sell my art, photographs, and jewelry and other crafts that I decide to make. I just finished the apartment and wish I could show it to Mom. She would love it.

I incorporated a lot of things from Mom and Dad’s house into the apartment here. I think the love that they shared for 55 years has permeated this apartment and there is a real feeling of peace here. The place is surprisingly quiet considering that a major freeway is right next to us. You can hear the cars when you take the garbage out but the apartment itself is very silent.

One of the things I promised Mom before she died was that I would always take care of her little Pixie. Pixie and my cat Merlin made the move down here a couple of weeks ago. They have put up with boxes and moving furniture and Mommy banging on the wall hanging pictures and making new furniture. Pixie has always been the aggressive one of the duo but she is the one who clings now. Merlin recognizes the scent of the old furniture that he grew up with and has become quite the Mr. Independent. Pixie however has never moved before and this has been traumatic for her. She is a resilient little thing though and I’m sure in time she will be back to her more rambunctious self.

Pixie has always known what she wanted. She was born along with three other siblings in our storage shed. She however decided that the street life wasn’t for her and that Mom was a soft touch and she wiggled her way into Mom’s heart. Mom’s heart had been severely damaged by heart attacks and towards then end was only beating at a 13% ejection factor. Handfuls of pills kept her alive. Pixie sensed from the start that Mom would spoil her and spoil her she did. Mom bought deli meat for her and let her up on the kitchen cabinet. Mom would rest in the recliner and Pixie would take a nap on her lap. Mom would just sit there until Pixie woke up. Mom had to know where Pixie was at all times and was always afraid that she would get out and get lost. I spent a great deal of time looking for the cat and plucking her down into Mom’s arms. Pixie for her part loved Mom dearly. Mom died in the early hours of the morning with Pixie at her side. Pixie stayed with her until my brother came home and found Mom dead. She kept a vigil for 12 hours.

So happy birthday Pixie. You are six today. You still show the mischievous streak that you’ve always had. Now that the place is together and the chaos is gone I expect that you will settle down. Of course you may have to accept the fact that Merlin is not going to let you beat up on him any more but I’m sure you can find other things to do. You love the front window and looking out at the parking lot. I hope that some of the squirrels in the neighborhood drop by like they did in Indiana. You love watching squirrels. Most importantly Pixie thank you for all the love that you gave to Mom. You can’t buy that kind of love.

Cats Are Smarter Then You

2011-06-24T17:11:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have followed this diary I have frequently mentioned my two cats Merlin and Pixie. Merlin is 14 and has been with me since he was 4 weeks old. Pixie is 5 and she had suckered my Mom into letting her rule the house. I had spent six years in Indiana being caregiver to my Mom. We lost her in May of 2010. I made the decision to move down to North Carolina to be near my niece and her husband and three teenaged children. The kitties came down with me a week ago.

Merlin has always been a timid mama’s boy. Pixie came from the streets and was my little street punk. I had promised Mom that I would take care of her cat. Mom knew Pixie would outlive her. In fact the five years we had Pixie in our home was an extra five years that Mom survived with a damaged heart that only pumped at 15% of normal. The doctor was astonished that Mom lived as long as she did. I know the reason turned out to be a little black cat that gave a new meaning to the word mischievous.

Pixie and Merlin did not get along. Merlin resented the fact that Pixie wanted time with me after Mom died. He had been my only cat for almost 7 years and did not feel like sharing with this little upstart. Pixie on the other hand was aggressive towards Merlin and wanted it known that she was the alpha cat. Merlin would run from her and hide. In Indiana Merlin rarely left the bedroom and I ended up having to put food dishes and a litter box in there for him when he became so upset that he would leave deposits everywhere but the litter box. Pixie was always little Miss Independent and had staked out a cupboard with extra pillows as her special bed. When Mom was alive she slept with her but Pixie was there when Mom died and stayed with her for almost 12 hours until my brother came home and discovered that Mom had died during the night. After that she didn’t want to go into Mom’s bedroom.

The cats were surprisingly good on the trip down. I did the 11 hour drive in one sitting. I borrowed my niece’s cat carriers and putting their catnip pillows in with them seemed to make them mellow enough not to complain all the way. I am probably 2/3rds of the way through with the apartment. The bedroom is close to being done as is the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. Basically all they need is the final touches. The Master Bedroom which will be my computer, crafts, and office area still has multiple boxes that I am unpacking. Both cats are fascinated by that room and frequently explore in there.

The surprising thing for me is the change in both cats. They no longer fight and seem to get along very well. Merlin explores the whole house and will check out what I am doing or go off and do his own thing. He no longer seems afraid. The only time he comes into the bedroom is at night after I turn the lights off. Pixie is sleeping with me and I usually wake up as the filling between a kitty sandwich. Merlin in Indiana would get aggressive and force Pixie off the bed. Now it doesn’t bother him at all. Pixie has taken to following me around like a little puppy dog. She is the nervous one now and seems afraid that I am going to leave her.

It is interesting to see the changes in personalities of the two cats. Just when I thought I had them figured out they change. I doubt that this is the last that I will see of the changes in them. Cats are nature’s way of letting humans know that we aren’t as smart as we think we are. Cats have us beat every time.

A Soldier's Story

2011-05-30T05:31:00.000-07:00

Today is Memorial Day. I can think of no better way to honor our veterans then to present their story as written by one of their own. This is a soldier’s story from World War II. It was written by my Dad, Jack L. Wilson. There are so few of them left now from the Greatest Generation and their story needs to be told.

After a while I got tired of the long walk to work, and since I was now without a car, I decided to move to a one room efficiency apartment about seven blocks from downtown Indianapolis. I was living there when the war started. I remember listening to the news that Sunday morning, and then walked out to the Romers where Beth was staying and sitting around there until late that night. There was already a line at the Recruiting Office in the Federal Building early the next morning when I got there. After milling around there for a while, the recruiting people finally came out and recorded our names and addresses and told us to go on about our business, and they would get in touch as soon as they were ready to start processing. It was the middle of January before they got around to calling me. After a farewell party at work, I vacated my apartment, gave my furniture to Beth, and arranged to store my stuff with her. At the Examination Center they hemmed and hawed around and finally decided to reject me because I wore glasses. I arranged to stay with the Romers until I could appeal the rejection, and get my case reviewed. I went back to work at Hoosier having missed only a day-and-a-half of work. It was early summer before my appeal came up, and I was reexamined for service. This time I passed even though I was just out of bed from a bout with lobar pneumonia. In August 1942 I was sworn in and sent to Keesler Field, just outside of Bilouxi, Mississippi for Basic Training.

Halfway through the first week of Basic Training they got around to asking if any of us had any previous military training. When they found out I had three years of High School ROTC and six years of National Guard training, I was jerked out of the ranks and made a Drill Instructor, posthaste. Not only that, but after two days of indoctrination, I was put in charge of the platoon I had been a member of. Since we really had no rank, we were made “Acting” Sergeants. The chevrons were sewed on a dark cloth armband that we pinned to our jacket sleeves. We did have the privileges of Non-Commissioned Officers, we just didn’t have the pay. Fortunately, one of the privileges was access to the NCO Club where you could get cold 3.2 beer. Not very potent, but quite refreshing. It was at the club that I got acquainted with a Master Sergeant named Guy Illian. Guy had been in the service since 1932 and was the Senior NCO at the Radar School at Keesler. One day I caught him nursing a beer and looking puzzled. He told me that the school had been asked to develop an electronic device that would identify friendly aircraft when their blip showed up on the radar screen. They were looking for something that would give some kind of a pulsed signal that could be uniquely keyed to identify friend from foe. For some reason, I thought the trouble we had had with the Zenith radios. When I explained this to Guy he grabbed my arm and yelled, “Come with me.” Even though Radar School was classified and off limits to uncleared personnel, some of the officers and research labs were not. Going to one of these labs, Guy had me give a detailed description of what I had just told him while he started connecting electronic components and instruments together. Putting a blip on the screen by electronic simulation, he attached the output of his mock-up to the simulator, and we watched the blip flash in sync with the pulsing action. A few days later the School Commandant requested my presence at a demonstration to be given to some visiting “firemen” from Washington. In addition to the CO, Sgt. Illian and myself were half-a-dozen other people only two of whom were in uniform. One was an Air Corp Major General, and the other was a Signal Corps Colonel. Guy explained to the group that since I had given them the idea, the CO and he felt I should be present. He then proceeded to demonstrate the device. Every one appeared satisfied, particularly one husky older individual that Guy told me afterwards was a Colonel Donoven. At that time, the name meant nothing to me. The CO said something about trying to get my assignment changed so that I could go to Radio School at Scott Field, and then come back to Keesler to the Radar School. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was getting sick and tired of Keesler and would do almost anything to keep from being reassigned there.

About two months later, one of the PE instructors, another D.I. and I were sent to Fort Belvoir, Virginia on a temporary assignment that for some reason was classified. I later found that the only reason for the classification was to prevent embarrassment to some of the individuals involved. It seems that as the U.S. Government was bringing more and more people into Washington as they geared up to run the “War Effort”, that as per custom they were passing out military ranks to these people compatible with the position they were to fill. For example, the Chairman of General Motors, Charles Wilson, was brought in to coordinate wartime production, and was given the rank of Lieutenant General. Unfortunately, most of these men had never had any military training, so the three of us were brought in to provide the rudiments of military training and military courtesy to them. They probably figured we would be less apt to talk than the personnel assigned to Belvoir. It was hilarious to see the staff cars and limousines coming out in the morning, deposit these people, and return in the evening to take them back to their quarters. For eight hours a day they were ours, and we really put them through their paces in a conscientious effort to make soldiers out of them. After three weeks, the PE instructor and I were unceremoniously sent back to Keesler. It seems we were too hard on them.

After five months at Keesler I was finally sent to the Radio Operator-Mechanics School at Scott Field, Illinois. Sixteen weeks later I graduated, but was retained as an instructor.

To get back to Belvoir for a minute, one day while putting my troops through their paces, an Army Colonel who had been standing there watching for a while, came over during a break and said, “Your device worked like a charm, Wilson.” It was Colonel Donovan. I was told later on that he was the head of the recently organized Office of Strategic Services. So you see, I did meet “Wild” Bill Donovan, and did do some work for the OSS. So I exaggerated a little. As Jerry would say, “Well excu-u-use me.”

I remained at Scott for almost two-and-a-half years. After about a year instructing, I was assigned as a Communications Specialist to the Air Inspector’s Office. I was part of the team investigating accidents, slow-downs, or just plain snafu’s. My role was to see what part, if any, communications played in these events. I enjoyed this phase tremendously, as I got to work on the flight line with all types of aircraft, either assigned, or transient. I also got in a lot of flight crew time in virtually all types of multi-crew aircraft. Furthermore, I got myself qualified as a Communications Security Specialist. This gave me three active MOS’s: Radio Operator, Radio Mechanic, and CSS.

Early in 1945, I was ordered overseas, and started processing in April of that year, and finally got to Tinian in early June just in time for the final accelerated bombing of Japan that culminated in the atomic bombing in August of 1945.

Just a few of the highlights of the trip over. I had my final processing at Fort Lewis, Washington and was loaded on a Liberty ship at Tacoma. Because of all my MOS’s, I was armed fit to kill. As an Airborne Operator, I was issued a .45 automatic and a .38 short barrel pistol as part of my survival kit. As a Mechanic, I was issued a Garand. Finally as a Communications Security Specialist, I was issued a M1A1 Carbine. Talk about Rambo.

As we left Puget Sound and got into the Pacific, we ran into a violent storm that lasted three days. Consequently, we missed the convoy rendezvous and had to continue to Pearl Harbor alone, hoping there were no Japanese submarines in that part of the ocean. All 500+ GI’s were seasick, all the Navy gunners were seasick, and a large part of the crew. After all the good old USS Lindley M. Garrison could roll 45 degrees in calm waters, or so it seemed. The Captain and the first mate were the only completely ambulatory people on the ship. At the risk of sounding phony, I want to describe the first mate. He was about 5’6” in height, and weighed better the 225 pounds. He had a small mustache, and always wore a soft cap. His primary distinguishing feature though was he had an honest-to-God peg-leg. But he pulled the GI’s through almost single-handed. Helping us to and from the rail, laughing, joking, teasing in a good natured way. In the sleeping areas below deck, the bunks were five high. Consequently you couldn’t sit up in your bunk, but had to roll in and out. After the first night, because of the stench, most of us slept on the deck rolled up in our ponchos under whatever shelter we could find. All in all, it took us nine days from Seattle to Pearl Harbor. Even after the storm stopped it took another couple of days for the waters to subside. About that time, the crew discovered that one of the meat lockers had malfunctioned and the meat had all spoiled. Nothing to do but get up a work crew of everyone at least partially ambulatory, have them go down this circular stairs to the meat locker, pick up a crate of the meat, go back up another set of winding stairs to the main deck, and throw the case over the rail. First off, it was mutton, and fresh mutton smells bad enough, let alone after it has rotted. So the procedure degenerated to this; we would pick up a crate of the meat, stagger up the stairs, stagger to the rail, heave the crate over the side, heave after it, and then stagger back down the stairs. And there was seven tons of the damned stuff. Any adjustment we had made towards getting over our sickness was effectively negated by this episode. We probably attracted every shark in the Western Pacific.

After a few days on Oahu for jungle warfare training we proceeded on to Tinian. The services were starting to amass a potential invasion fleet in the Marianas at this time. The two mile channel between Tinian and Saipan was virtually shore-to-shore ships of all types. My original orders had been to join an advanced B-29 base on Okinawa, but 20^th Air Force Headquarters changed them to keep me on Tinian and assign me to one of the Groups in the 313^th Bomb Wing. I eventually ended up in the 6^th Bomb Group, but was bounced around from Squadron to Squadron and eventually wound up in the 24^th. The group of us coming in at that time were designated as combat replacements, and the several qualified Radio Operators in the group were used as substitutes. Consequently, we seldom flew with the same crew twice. All in all, I got in seventeen missions before the end of the war with a large part of them being on planes that dropped mines in the Shimonoseki Straits, the main Japanese ship channel. The usual mission was about seventeen hours.

After the fighting stopped I got in on a prison camp search mission. This involved flying to Japan, then over to Kunming, China and back to the Marianas. Monotonous, to say the least.

After the fighting stopped, the next major event was the typhoon in October of 1945. I had just been transferred to the 24^th Squadron and had just moved my gear into a 16-man squad tent while awaiting the construction of a pre-fab barracks when the storm struck late in the afternoon. I was tired and had just laid down for a nap when the wind velocity started increasing. I put my gear beside me on the bunk wrapped my poncho and shelter-half around the whole thing (including me), and dropped off to sleep. Some of the idiots were actually holding on to the tent ropes while the tent was trying to get airborne, which it finally did. I was one of the very few who got a little rest before the main part of the storm hit. Fortunately the eye of the storm passed just west of Tinian. The edge of the storm that hit us had wind gusts in excess of 120 knots. (That’s as high as the anemometer at headquarters went before it blew off the building.) Everyone battled to get to the field and try to save the planes. We managed to save all but one liaison plane which was twisted up by the storm. On Okinawa, which caught the full brunt of the storm, they lost all of their B-29’s. We were flying emergency supplies into them for weeks. Its hard to describe the damage on Okinawa. Ships as large as cruisers were blown completely ashore. Other ships had bows snapped off, as the wind twisted them about their anchor chains. Ships jammed together were commonplace. To give you some idea of the wind, we could eat in the mess hall by crouching over the tables since the wind was blowing the rain straight through the upper screened half of the wall on one side, and out the upper-screened half on the other side. The rain was absolutely parallel to the ground. I suppose we could have stuck our heads up and got our faces washed while we were eating.

At first I had toyed with the idea of staying in the service, particularly since the Wing Commander guaranteed me Master Sergeant three months after I re-upped, plus a $5,000 bonus for reenlisting. I later found out that I was the only triple-threat man left in the XXI Bomber Command. The Wing was being transferred to the Philippines. I acceded to your Mother’s wishes though and got out so I could go to college and finish my undergraduate work. I had already picked up several courses by either correspondence or extension.

Consequently, I was scheduled to leave Tinian in January of 1946. In preparation for checking out we had to send all personal stuff, other than toiletries, that were not Government issue home. So I duly packed all medals, citations, records etc. and mailed them home. We were standing at the end of the runway when the mail plane (a B-29) took off. All takeoffs from North Field were to the east towards Saipan. As the plane cleared the runway, we saw one of the engines smoking and finally conk out. With insufficient altitude, when the plane staggered with loss of power, the wing tip hit the water and the plane cartwheeled almost to Saipan. Fortunately, the crew was saved, but the mail was lost. Not only that, we found that some idiot had put all of the Wing records including all personnel on the same plane, 201 files, the whole shebang. The only thing we had to identify us was our dogtags. They were finally able to reconstruct enough paperwork for us to get started home, but with no 201 file, no flight records, no citation records, no pay records, no shot records, no nothing, things were in a “mull of a hess” to say the least. In fact some of the men had trouble getting credit for all of their overseas service. We were one unhappy Bomb Wing to say the least. Not even a pep talk from General LeMay, the XXI Command Commanding General helped.

The Air Corps finally sent us over to Saipan on a LCI (little one). From the docks at Tinian Town, up the west side of the island, around the to part of Saipan to the east side of the island was almost a three hour trip. To keep from getting sea sick, I tried to sleep on the way. When I awoke up in Saipan I found I had been immortalized for posterity. There were some correspondents going with us, and one was a female illustrating artist who thought that my sleeping posture in full equipment typified the America GI, and drew my picture for Life magazine. Don’t remember ever seeing it though. We stayed on Saipan for about eleven days processing for home. Our usual entertainment after dark was to go to the outdoor movies. It was a little disconcerting at first to not only have to be armed ourselves, but have an armed guard patrolling the back of the area. It seemed the Japanese holdouts on the island would sneak to the edge of the jungle, and watch the movie. Although there were several shots fired at different times while we were there, there were no reports of any casualties. About a week after getting there though, the report circulated through the camp that seventeen Japanese holdouts had surrendered on Tinian. The only place I could figure out they had been hiding was in the prison camp in the center of the island.

Anyway, we were finally loaded onto an escort aircraft carrier, the USS Kwajalein, for the trip back to the states. Our confidence was a little shaken as we boarded the ship for at the head of the gangway was a plaque saying that Kaiser had taken a tad over nine days from the laying of the keel to launching. Our confidence was shaken even more when the Navy crewmen checking us in told us there was a crack in the hull from the flight deck to down below the hanger deck, but that it probably wouldn’t get any worse unless we ran into bad weather. The bad weather didn’t start until the second day after we left Saipan. Then some waves started crashing over the flight deck. When the ship was on a wave crest, you could almost jump through the crack. Then when it clanged together when the ship hit the trough between waves it would sound like an artillery shot. I don’t know how true it was, but we were told that the Captain was ordered to beach it on one of the islands northwest of Oahu. Instead he talked them into letting him take it on into San Pedro since the ship was going to be retired, and so was he. The storm finally stopped a day and a half before we got to San Pedro. Needless to say, we were glad to leave the ship.

I was discharged at Camp Atterbury in Southern Indiana in February of 1946.

Iris and Roses

2011-05-24T09:00:00.000-07:00

I needed to get my car serviced yesterday and decided that since it was a beautiful day I would walk home. I took my camera with me and was rewarded with some gorgeous flowers. The sweet smell of roses and iris made the walk home wonderful.

Adventures in the Netherworld

2011-05-22T10:40:00.000-07:00

This old house has a dark, dank basement. It is a spooky place with pipes and crawl spaces and old bricks and stones. It gets wet when it rains. It would be a good place to set a horror movie. My little girl cat Pixie may look dainty with her tiny little paws and shiny black fur and large gold eyes. Looks can be deceiving. One thing Pixie is not is a lady. She is a rough and tumble little tomboy. Naturally the basement fascinates her. I had to get things from the basement today and decided to let her have her fun.

Pixie discovered a crawl space that a human can’t get into. She jumps on the ledge besides the stairs and immediately heads for her favorite cave. It would drive Mom frantic when she would do that because Mom was afraid that Pixie would get lost, scared, and couldn’t find her way out. One things Pixie loves the most about her crawl space is that it has neat echoes. She was hollering away today listening to her voice reverberate all over the basement. She is a noisy little girl at the best of times and was in caterwauling heaven today.

I could hear Pixie as she roamed around and suddenly she was on the pipes overhead. Her mouth was going a mile a minute. I looked up and she had managed to get a dead leaf hooked onto her whiskers so I reached up and got it off for her. It had been bugging her but she didn’t want to take the time to reach up and get it off. Besides that is what I am here for to cater to her every little whim. Her whiskers unencumbered by that pesky leaf and off she went again.

Dark and spooky corners were a challenge. In Pixie zipped to check everything out. Who knows maybe a pirate hide their chest of gold there. Up, down, around, through, in and out she went. I heard a nonstop monologue of the all the fun places she was exploring. By the time I finished she had been all over that basement and was absolutely filthy. I washed her off with baby wipes much to her dismay. She had worked hard at getting that dirty and couldn’t understand why I wanted her cleaned up again.

Looking over today's spooky old basement and a black cat, maybe it would have to be a horror comedy picture after all.

Activist Teachers

2011-05-20T14:07:00.000-07:00

A person is not born an activist. A child at the start is only interested in its own wants and needs. A child doesn’t understand about others. A child knows when it is hungry or wet or tired or cold. It is only when a child gets older that it starts to realize that there are others who also have needs and wants. Learning to care for others is something that is taught. I was not born an activist. I learned to be an activist through men and women who were my teachers in life. Many of these men and women were priests and nuns in the Catholic Church that I grew up in.

If you look at the story of the Civil Rights Movement you will see priests and nuns, ministers and rabbis, religious members from many faiths marching and protesting and going to jail as they fought for the rights of every man. These were the people who taught me that all men have the same rights. They taught me that all men are equal.

I grew up in California. I grew up when the Farm Worker’s Union was being started. I knew priests and nuns who were there fighting along side of the farm workers. They believed that the farm workers had the right to a better life. Some went to jail for their beliefs but they continued to fight.

Some men like the Dalia Lama fight on an International scale. He is a man who has been a conscience to the world for many years. He has tried to teach compassion and non violence towards all. He is first and foremost a teacher. One of my first teachers was a Franciscan priest named Father Bruno. Our parish and a parish down in Southern California “adopted” Father Bruno and his parishes in the rural and very poor Philippines during the reign of Marcos. Father Bruno needed a way to get around to the poor in outlying places. The women in the two parishes decided they would collect enough Blue Chip stamps to buy him a jeep. I spent many, many hours gluing stamps into books as the women went from parish to parish and collected stamps. In the end they had enough to buy a baby blue jeep and send it to the Philippines.

On his trips back to the San Francisco Bay Area I had a chance to learn from Father Bruno. I learned the problems of the poor when there are dictators like Marcos to oppress them. I learned about a lot of dictators from him. I learned about how to help others. I learned to be an activist. Father Bruno was arrested by Marcos regime and imprisoned. He was eventually deported and they confiscated that baby blue jeep that we sent to help him reach his parishioners. Father Bruno came back to the Bay Area and immediately asked to be assigned to one of the poorest areas so that he could continue to help those in need.

Talking to these men and women over the years I have learned that all of them believe that they are doing what Jesus commanded of them. They believe that they are living their faith by helping others. These were my teachers and I am thankful that they were a part of my life. I am thankful that they taught me how to be an activist.

Bedazzled or Thoughts on Moving

2011-05-12T09:26:00.000-07:00

I moved to Indiana in September 2004 at the request of my mother. Mother’s health was getting increasingly fragile and there were things that only a daughter could do. I put most of my things in storage and started a new phase of my life as a caretaker. We are coming up to the first anniversary of Mom’s death. It has been a year of reflection and as I try to ready the house for sale and pack for my move to North Carolina I find I am seeing familiar things with a new eye.

My parents were both depression kids. Their view of life was polar opposites. My Dad felt that her had enough depredation growing up and he believed in spending the money he made so that he was surrounded by beautiful things. He made this house into their dream home. My Mom was the coupon queen. She saved and horded and nothing was thrown away until it disintegrated. I have been going through her things. She bought clothes on sale at thrift shops. The clothes were a bargain and she might wear them one day. I am giving 16 unopened bottles of shampoo and conditioner to the local safe house. She had coupons for them and they didn’t go bad and she might use them one day. We haven’t had to buy paper towels at all as Mom had so many of them piled up in closets.

What I am finding most of all is memories. Mom and Dad kept all the cards they received. I have put them in a scrapbook to share with their granddaughter and great grandchildren. There are old letters that were too special to throw away. I found my Dad’s trunk with his letters as a newly wed while he was in the Army in World War II. I have multiple boxes full of photographs and slides. I am slowly trying to get through them and scan them into my computer so that I can put them on discs and send them to my brothers. I find myself going I remember getting that for Mom or Dad. I see the image of Mom wearing a certain outfit. It is hard giving all the clothes away but I know that someone else will be wearing them and a part of Mom will continue to be tangibly here. Sometimes it hurts and tears come. I had to stop and take a break when I got to the drawer with Mom’ pajamas. Mom was so frail and she felt the cold so bad. A couple of years ago Wal-Mart carried some pajamas that were exceptionally warm. I got her a warm robe to go with them. One of my strongest memories is seeing Mom in the recliner wearing her blue fuzzy robe and holding her cat Pixie on her lap.

I am moving down to be close to my niece are her family. Bernadette is a daughter to me. She has three children aged 13, 15 and 17. She begged me to move down after Mom died. This move like my last move is to be where I am needed. It doesn’t make trying to get everything done and moved any easier but it does make the heart lighter to know that I am loved and needed.

I am moving from a physical caretaker to a caretaker of memories. I will be writing down all the things that I remember about my parents. The memories need to shared with their only granddaughter and their two great grandsons and great granddaughter. I will be taking down boxes of genealogy materials. One of the most important things that I will be taking down is a black cat with gold eyes named Pixie. Pixie was Mom’s cat. She gave Mom unconditional love and added five years to the life of a woman with a heart that only pumped 15% of normal. Pixie was with Mom when she died. I promised Mom I would take care of her.

My theme music at this time is courtesy of Kermit the Frog and “I’m moving right along.”

First Mother's Day

2011-05-08T08:31:00.000-07:00

This is the first Mother’s Day without Mom being here. It feels strange not having her here. Last year I made her a picture of a teddy bear’s picnic since she thought I should have one on my Farmville farm. Of course I had to put her Pixie in the picture. She was a first too. The first cat Mom ever had. This is the story of that historic first where dog loving Mom faces the realities of a black cat with mischievous gold eyes.

In the early Spring on 2006 my mother warned me to be careful driving on the driveway as a mother cat had given birth to four kittens in our storage shed. Mama cat was black and three of the four kittens were black, the fourth one was a smoky gray. Of course Mom wasn’t going to get fond of them at all. Of course anyone who believed that would probably buy a bridge sight unseen. Mom bought food for the mother cat so she could be close to her kittens and not have to forage for food. When the kittens got older Mom bought kitten food since the kittens needed good food to grow up healthy and strong. When mama cat had enough of this mothering thing Mom continued to feed the kittens because after all they were orphans now.

I learned to pay closer attention to Mom when I had dismissed her question of “would you like another cat?” I figured it was one of those generic questions about the litter we had outside and said “sure, maybe the gray one” figuring of course that she didn’t really mean that we should take one of the kittens in. After all I do have Merlin, the world’s biggest mama’s boy.

One morning as I came down to get my morning coffee a little black cat pranced out of my mother’s bedroom to greet me. I stared at her and asked “does Mom know you’re in here?” She looked back at me as if to say “do you know that this is my house?” When I asked Mom that afternoon when I came home from work she immediately put it down to me saying I wanted another cat. She later let it slip that this cat was the brave one of the litter and would come inside and explore. Mom feed her deli meat as treats and would hold her on her lap. She couldn’t figure out why the kitten didn’t want to go back outside any more. And so it came to pass that Pixie entered the household and quickly became the alpha cat. Merlin never stood a chance.

Mom declared that she wasn’t going to love the cat. She had her heart broken when her dog Ruffles died and she wasn’t about to go through that again. Pixie had other plans. I could tell from the start that Pixie had Mom wrapped around her little paw. Being responsible pet owners we had her spayed when she was old enough and Mom fretted the entire day since the cat would be kept over night. She was afraid that Pixie would be scared and think we had abandoned her. She was afraid something would go wrong with the operation and we would lose her. She was afraid that something would go wrong with the recovery and Pixie would be in agony. I knew that none of that would happen but then I have owned cats all my adult life.

There was the night that Mom came up in a panic because Pixie had gotten out and Mom was afraid that the wild animals would get her. She was afraid that Pixie would get lost and couldn’t find her way home. So I got up at midnight and threw a coat over my pajamas and went outside with a flashlight. I had to gently tell Mom to hush since I needed to listen for the bell on Pixie’s collar. I found her playing in the bushes and picked her up and handed her to Mom. I went to bed with the sound of Mom scolding the cat for worrying Grandmother. Grandmother? Right she wasn’t going to fall in love with this cat.

Pixie was an explorer. I had to go home on my break more then once because Mom couldn’t find her cat. I have found her in closets, under beds, under furniture that you have to be boneless to scoot under. One of her favorite hiding places was to zip into the basement and get into one of the crawl spaces. She loved to yell and listen to her voice echo. Mom was reduced to tears more then once because Pixie was in there and she wouldn’t be able to find her way out. She was crying and scared. Every time I enticed her back out I would hand her to Mom and get the wipes because the cat was covered in cobwebs and dirt. Every time Mom would scold her for worrying Grandmother.

One of my favorite moments was when Pixie pulled out Mom’s aloe vera plant for the umpteenth time and Mom sat her on the cabinet and proceeded to scold her. “Look at me young lady,” Mom said. “Did you pull out my plant? How many times have I told you to leave my plants alone?” I had to escape upstairs before I lost it completely. The look on Pixie’s face was priceless. She knew that she was going to be back in Mom’s good graces within a few minutes and she was.

I would call Mom every afternoon to see how she was. My workmates knew that I would get a Pixie report. Mom had finally admitted she loved her cat and every one would now know all about Pixie and how smart she was. How she was the brave one of the litter. How sweet she was, etcetera.

Mom died last May 26th. She had a very bad heart and we knew she was living on borrowed time. The last five years of her life was enriched by a mischievous little black cat with gold eyes. Pixie was with Mom when she died and stayed with her until my brother got home from work and discovered what happened. This little cat that Mom fell in love with returned the love to her and was with her for her last journey.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I miss you and so does Pixie.

Is May Over With Yet?

2011-05-04T09:49:00.000-07:00

My brother asked the other evening if we could just not have to deal with May any more. Could we just go from April to June. I know what he means. On May 4, 1999 we suddenly lost Dad to a heart attack. He was planting a shrub and keeled over and was dead before he hit the ground. He had turned 80 in January and was so proud of the that. On May 26, 2010 Mike came home he didn’t see Mom but he saw Pixie walking out of the bedroom and went in to see if Mom was okay. She had died suddenly during the night. I am spending this May going through all of their things so we can sell their house and I can move.

I have been watching the Harry Potter movies. I wish real life was able to wave a wand and get things to do what we wanted. I want a “sort” spell that would go through this house and sort everything out and get things where they need to be now. I need a “pack” spell that would pack up what I am taking to North Carolina. I need a “help me” spell and the people I need to sell the house, fix the move, get the apartment ready, sell the excess furniture, etc. so that I don’t have to try and do it all appear and do their jobs. Most of all I want a “restore” spell so that Mom and Dad are alive and healthy and all the plans we had could be fulfilled.

Unfortunately my life isn’t a fantasy movie. I feel like just crawling back in bed and staying there until June but that isn’t feasible. If I don’t do what needs to be done then things will never get done. I need to finish going through their things. I need to finish getting the house ready to be sold. I need to get my things moved down to North Carolina. I need to feel like the whole world isn’t yelling at me. I have never felt so frazzled as I do now. I took the time off in the winter to just get through the holidays. My plan was always to get things ready in the Spring and then Spring came before I was ready. I’ve gone from thinking I can handle everything to wondering if I can handle anything.

Maybe I should just take today off. It is not the best day to go through my parent’s things. I should curl up with a book and hold the cats. Both of them are restless and wanting affection today.

Is it June yet?

Spring Has Sprung

2011-04-06T16:08:00.001-07:00

The great thing about Nature is that it transcends the behavior of the people who inhabit this world and continues to present us with beauty.

Unconditional Love

2011-04-04T14:47:00.000-07:00

Thirteen years ago a young mother cat decided she didn’t want the responsibility of her litter of kittens and abandoned them. This story had a happy ending because someone found the kittens and got them to a Veterinary Hospital that doubled as shelter. Four weeks later one of those kittens came into my life. In a world that seems to delight in tearing itself apart with hatred Merlin has brought something that we could all use. He brought me unconditional love.

I have often said the only good things that came out of my marriage were discovering I could do art on the computer and Merlin. I had lost my beautiful pure white cat named Casper a couple of weeks earlier. I was not really ready to adopt a new cat but my ex decided I needed one and made arrangements for me to meet the people at the Animal Hospital. The kittens were only four weeks old but they had been weaned and litter box trained. When I held Merlin in my hands I fell in love. He was so tiny and full of life. When I decided to adopt him he looked up with those big eyes that were blue at the time and told me his name was Merlin. Of course the fact that I had recently watched the Hallmark special “Merlin” with Sam Neal might have had something to do with it.

Merlin joined the household along with Sasha. When the marriage fell apart ten months later he and Sasha joined me as we trekked from California to Illinois and finally to Indiana. We have been through a lot together. We got through a horrible divorce. We got through bankruptcy because of my ex-husband. We got through the loss of Sasha. We got through the death of my mother. We are in the process now of getting ready for another move as I head to North Carolina. We will be taking my mother’s cat, Pixie, with us much to Merlin’s dismay. She is now my cat and I promised Mother I would take care of her.

I put up with a lot of teasing about Merlin. He is a Mama’s Boy and clings to me. He never bonded with the mother cat and has been positive that I’m his real mother ever since I brought him home. He ignores my lack of fur and a tail. He would try to suck on my fingers to get milk when he was a baby. He has a temper and has been known to throw fits when things don’t go his way. He is one of the world’s biggest cowards. He is terrified of thunder storms. Pixie is half his size and she has him terrified. He is starting to have panic attacks which leads him to poop everywhere but the litter box most of the time. I have to keep him on tranquilizers in order for him to cope now.

In spite of the problems of age Merlin is still my baby boy. One thing I have always been able to count on is his unconditional love for me. He is not a fair weather friend. I am his Mommy and he loves me, now and forever. Their are some people who think that animals don’t have feelings and that we can learn nothing from them. Merlin shows the world that no matter what is going on that it is still possible to love.

So happy birthday Merlin. Thank you for all your love and always remember that I love you too.

What This Woman is Doing

2011-03-25T14:46:00.000-07:00

I grew up reading. At eight I found the science fiction/fantasy section of my library and it started a life long love affair with those kinds of books. I later went into art and writing. One of the most influential people I met was the late Marion Zimmer Bradley. Through her works I discovered that a strong woman was not a freak of nature. I learned that women can and should be strong and that I was capable of doing any great deed that a man could do. I treasured the memories of getting to meet this remarkable woman on several occasions. It is ironic that we are living in a time when women should be able to be recognized and encouraged to perform the tasks that can help us as a people and a world and yet women are under attack politically and personally. There is a movement afoot to throw women back into the “barefoot and pregnant” state of being. We are a world in crisis and yet politicians want to destroy the rights of women and families and workers while continuing to line the pockets of the richest in the nation.

One of the reasons I started writing was to be able to help provide role models for people to use in their personal lives. I realized that the stories I was writing were being read by all ages. I feel as a writer I have an obligation to prove that women could fight along with men in the fight between good and evil. We all have our roles to play. I brought in my cultural heritage of a strong Celtic influence into my writing and also paid homage to my Cherokee great grandmother in one of the stories. I am spreading out to incorporate my love and fascination of the Orient in the next stories.

One of my favorite reader and critic is my grand-nephew Tristen. Tristen is now 15 and he suffers from Asperger’s Syndrome. When I was visiting in November he was enthusiastic about the next series of stories and wanted my female heroine to be a Dragon King’s daughter. He was hoping that I could bring into the stories the conflicts that we see if our efforts to get along with and understand people with a different heritage then we have. He is looking for me to blend Chinese mythology into the world I created like I blended Celtic and Native American into the last stories. He has very high standards for his Aunt Michele to meet.

In the fight for human rights we have many avenues that we can use to help. In addition to the political arena we can also use the world of art, fiction, poetry and yes Facebook and Twitter to help win the minds and hearts of people. If my writing and art can help to influence even a child with Asperger’s to become a fighter for human rights then I believe what I am doing is important. I have limited financial resources but I contribute what I can to help fight for the environment and for a better world. I contribute my time when I can to as many areas as I can.

I am contributing a new heroine to inspire young women to achieve the greatness that they deserve to achieve. I have taken my grandnephew’s suggestions to heart and Princess Jade will be joining my elf Bard Sean in the fight against evil. She is part beautiful richly dressed princess and part princess warrior. She brings not only her strength and intelligence into the battle but contributes her Guardian Dragon as well. As I did with the Sean’s Stories I want to entertain and educate at the same time. We all have a story to tell. We all have a fight to win in making this a better world for all. I am using my art and story telling abilities to help fight.

Irish Wisdom

2011-03-17T08:44:00.000-07:00

May those who love us, love us
And those who don’t,
May God turn their hearts
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts
May He turn their ankles so we’ll know Them by their limping.

The secret of the Irish is to live a long time without growing old.

The day God created the Irish
He didn’t do another thing except sit down and smile.

May you be in Heaven a half hour before the devil knows you’re dead.

May you live to be a hundred years,
With one extra year to repent

May God bring good health to your enemies’ enemies.

May your blessings be many,
Your troubles be few.
May the love in your hearts
Forever be true.

May your mornings bring joy
And your evenings bring peace.
May your troubles grow few.
And your blessings increase.

May your home always be too small
To hold all of your friends.

Dance as if no one were watching.
Sing as if no one were listening.
Live each day as if it’s your last.

Bless us with good food,
The gift of gab.
And hearty laughter.
May the love and joy
We share
Be with us Ever after

May your troubles be less
And your blessings be more.
And nothing but happiness
Comes through your door.

May the road rise to meet you;
May the wind be always at your back;
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
The rains fall softly upon your fields;
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

May you live as long as you want; and not want as long as you live.

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night
And the road downhill
All the way to your door.

May the best day of your past
Be the worst day of your future.

May your neighbors respect you,
Troubles neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.

Living History

2011-03-07T10:42:00.000-08:00

“Time is not a line, but a series of now points.” Taisen Deshimaru

Life is not normally a series of earth shattering events. In every life there are moments that leave you shaking. The sudden death of my Dad on May 4, 1999 and the expected, but not yet, death of my Mom on May 26, 2010 are two shattering events in my life. I am now going through the house they lived in for so many years because it has to be sold. Today I made a discovery that has me shaking not in sorrow but with joy and anticipation.

The trunk is old and battered. I was looking for old suitcases to put my mothers clothes in that we are giving to charity and sitting way in the back and covered with other things I saw it. An old childhood memory of seeing my Dad with the trunk when I was very young came back. I was his only girl and we were very close. I remembered asking him about it and he told me it was his memory trunk. He kept things in there from when he was young and from his time in World War 2. I haven’t seen the trunk for many years but I remember an early visit out here when he showed me where it was at.

I opened the trunk today to see what was inside. There are stacks of letters tied together that Mom wrote him right after they got married and he had gone overseas during the war. There was an acceptance letter from Wabash welcoming him on the GI Bill. There were pictures and letters from family members who have been gone for many decades. It is the story of the man known as Jack Lloyd Wilson who married Mary Jane “Pat” Hughes. I am getting bubble wrap to make sure all the old things are safe and that trunk will go down to North Carolina with me. I will scan all the old letters and photos and other things that my Dad treasured before time destroys them. One of the things I found in the trunk was my Baby Book that my Mom made for all the children. She thought mine had gotten lost years ago but Dad kept it. There can be no stronger request for me to handle Dad’s history then that. He once said he wanted me to take over his genealogy because I was the only one of the five children who was interested.

That trunk is his story. In the battered trunk are the things that Dad thought were precious. Things he didn’t want to part with. The scrapbook of the beginning of my life is in that trunk. It is my Dad’s way of telling me that I am the one he trusts to take care of his treasures and tell the story of one man’s hopes and dreams. It is an honor and absolutely terrifying at the same time.

Happy Chinese New Year

2011-02-03T08:23:00.001-08:00

It is the Year of the Rabbit.

Reach for the Moon

2011-01-30T16:18:00.000-08:00

There are times when you have to just take charge and figure out how to do things on your own. Some things are fairly easy to figure out like typing around a Pixie cat who insists that she gets her cuddle time by sitting in front of the keyboard. Some things are more difficult. I learned a lot on how to do things from my Dad. Today is my Dad’s birthday. He would have been 92 today. A sudden heart attack while planting a bush took him away from us in 1999. But the wisdom that he imparted keeps him alive.

Dad didn’t have the easiest of lives. His mother died when he was six and his Dad’s remarriage gave his children the step-mother from hell. Dad had a genius IQ and graduated from school at fifteen. Through the CCC camps he traveled throughout the United States and learned skills that would help him in later life. He joined the Army and after World War Two he went to college on the GI Bill. He was married to the same woman for fifty-five years and helped raise five children. He was an inspiration to his children and his only grandchild. He took a part of our hearts with him when he died. He was reunited with his beloved wife in May when Mom passed away.

One of the most important lessons that I learned from my Dad is that we have talents that we can use to better ourselves and to help others. When Dad retired and moved out to Indiana he volunteered to teach. I am still meeting grown men and women who had my Dad as a teacher and loved him and learned from him. Dad was a math genius and he learned all about taxes and did the tax returns for senior citizens.

One thing my Dad was passionate about was learning. He never wanted to stop and had books on every subject imaginable. The unexplained fascinated him and his books on ghosts and haunting and the mysteries of our planet and universe will be added to my collection. He and I loved mysteries and we traded them especially if the detectives were out of the mainstream as in Tony Hillerman’s Navaho detectives of Robert Van Gulik’s Ancient Chinese. Dad taught me to never stop learning.

One of our big loves that we shared is astronomy. I remember the first moon landing and Dad and I both wiping tears as Neil Armstrong took that first step on the moon. He taught me to be passionate about science and the importance of scientific reasoning and investigation. Our shared love and passing back and forth books on the Bermuda Triangle etc. were our way of acknowledging that we still have a lot to learn.

Dad taught me to believe in myself and my art work. He loved the art I did that had space themes. I learned from him not to be afraid to sell my work and also to use it to help raise money for charities. He taught me that even though I am one person that I can make a difference. He taught me not to be afraid to stand up for what I believe in. He always encouraged my activism. He taught me to reach for the moon and I didn’t have to settle for just ours I could reach farther.

One of the magazines Dad and I loved was National Geographic. The cover story in December 2006 was on Saturn and the Cassini probe. I was fascinated by the findings about the moon Enceladus and the geysers and water that was discovered. The big problem for me was that there were no pictures from the surface that would show what the view would look like. But Dad had taught me to think and read and learn. As I read the article and the scientific findings I knew that I could imagine the scene myself. From what we know I think this is what it would look like.

So in honor of Dad’s birthday I am passing on his wisdom. We must always learn as much as we can and always strive to learn more. We can all do something to help. If we love science teach it to others. If you have a telescope have viewing parties for the neighborhood and show them the wonders of science. If you can do taxes help the elderly do theirs. If you are at the store buy some extra cans of food and drop them off at a food pantry. If you are making a casserole make two and take one to a shut in. Live and learn and love each day. Don’t be afraid to reach for the moon. My moon is Enceladus. Which moon are you reaching for?

Castles Made of Sand

2011-01-12T16:42:00.000-08:00

I finished doing the art work for my poem last night. This was my Dad’s favorite poem of everything I had written. He said that he really resonated with the poem because sometimes he felt that in his life he was making castles out of sand but at least he had dreams. I’ve been thinking these last couple of days as to what I can do to help make things better. We are all reeling from Arizona. I’m realistic to know that I am only one person. I may not be able to change the world but I can try and reach out and share what I know and can do and hope that like with the poem for my Dad that it may resonate and help someone feel better about themselves.

I don’t do very many overtly political diaries. I tend to talk about things that I understand the best. I’ve spoken often about being a caregiver to my Mom and trying to deal with her death. It is an experience that many of us will be going through especially with the aging of the Baby Boomers like myself. We are facing elderly parents and the pain of losing them. My hope is that by sharing what I went through that people who are going through or will be going through the same thing may find something in my experience that helps them in their lives.

I share a lot of my art and photography and recipes because they are things that are important to me as a person. It is part of what makes me what I am. I know that their are people who like seeing my work. As far as I am concerned art can’t really be art if there is no one to look at it.

I am owned by two cats now so I do “Pootie” diaries. With moody Merlin and the very aptly named Pixie I have a wealth of writing material currently taking naps on my bed. It is also a way of keeping my Mom alive in my heart. I promised her when she was alive that I would always take care of her Pixie. I asked for a few minutes before they took the body away and talked to her. I had told her I loved her before I went to bed that evening and as with my Dad, who had an email that I know he read the day he died, they both died hearing that I loved them and that is very important. There are no guarantees in life so take the chance to tell those you love that you love them every day. I told my Mom that I would miss her and that I was so happy to have been able to come and stay with her and help take care of her.

I have plans for my life now. I am going to be moving to North Carolina to be near my niece and her husband and their three children. I’ve already been welcomed to the art community down there. I have made friends here that I will meet face to face when I move. I hope to help my niece who works on the homeless problem. I don’t know if the castles I am making are made of sand or not but I figure if the waves knock one down I can always build another one. Like my Dad I am not afraid to dream.

Castles Made of Sand
By Michele Wilson

I don't know where I'm going,
And I don't know where I am.
I've been following this dream so long
That I can barely stand.
I don't know what tomorrow brings
Or what the fates have planned,
I can only wait and see
If my castles are made of sand.

Dreams are made of clouds
And waves with silvery crests.
Dreams are made of star dust
And touch with a warm caress.
Dreams are made of love
And hopes you can't forget.
Dreams can keep you going
When there is nothing left.

My dreams have kept me going
Through long and lonely years.
Dreams have kept my faith alive
And dried my many tears.
But dreams are gone by morning
And daylight brings new fears,
That my castle walls will crumble
And leave me standing here.

My castles may be made of sand
And won't stand the test of time.
At least I dared to dream
And the memories are all mine.
For if you can not dream,
If you dare not cross the line
Into hopes and promises
Both subtle and sublime;
Your life will be as empty
As that lonely stretch of land,
Without even the beauty
Of a castle made of sand.

Old and New

2010-12-31T14:02:00.000-08:00

Okay Pixie and Merlin we have a nasty thunderstorm coming in to celebrate the New Year with. I know I don’t care for them either but Mother Nature does what she pleases. I know in the kitty world things are supposed to be dedicated to eating, playing, cat naps, and exploring which we all know if an euphemism for getting into things you shouldn’t. 2010 was not the best of years for any of us. There were a lot of changes and some of them were very painful. 2011 is going to bring even more changes to our world.

Pixie, you were with Mom when she died on May 26th and you stayed with her until Mike came home. That was such a loving and compassionate thing to do. I know it had to be very hard for you because Mom was your special person. You added three years to the life of a woman with an extremely bad heart. Mom said you were the brave one of the litter and the smart one. You decided this house was to be yours and the people in it belonged to you, especially Mom. You were also the one full of love.

Merlin you are a senior citizen now and you would like to spend your remaining years not being bothered by a little smart-aleck who pounces on you and chases you up and down the stairs. You know some kids just don’t have proper respect for their elders. You especially dislike the fact that you have to share me now with Pixie. You have always been the world’s biggest Momma’s Boy.

In October I was forced out of my job and decided to just take early Social Security. You both love the idea that I can be home to take care of you 24/7. We will ignore the fact that each of you thinks that I should devote my entire attention just to you. Yes, both of your eyes have a bit of green in them.

2011 will be a lot of upheaval in all our lives. Pixie this is the only home you have known but we will need to move. Merlin you have done this move a couple of times before. You don’t like it, I know. We have to sell this house. There is no way that Mike and I can afford it by ourselves. Talk about exploring Pixie you can “help” me go through all the cupboards and shelves and desks and cabinets and hidey holes in this maze. Both Mom and Dad were pack rats and I need to go through everything and decide what to keep, what to toss, what to give to charity, and what to sell. It will be a humongous task but it has to be done.

We will also be moving down to North Carolina. So Pixie and Merlin I need you to practice saying “meow y’all” okay? My brother and I decided that Pixie would be better off with me. My six year job of caretaker is over and I need to move on. I am not a small town girl and I need to get back to the big city.

We will be renting an apartment in Winston Salem that is close to where my niece, her husband and three children live. They are cat owners guys so I know you will like them. Pixie you are going to love Maggie but it is doubtful how Winston Salem is going to survive you two on a rampage. Merlin you will have a soul mate in Dharma who understands how irritating little sisters can be especially when you weren’t consulted about whether or not they should be part of the household.

Winston Salem will be a perfect fit for me. I have already met some of the movers and shakers in the art community there and will be actively pursuing selling my art, photographs, and jewelry. It will help supplement my Social Security. It will fulfill a dream of years for me.

It will be nice to get all my things out of storage and set up a place of my own again. Merlin you will recognize our old couch and footrest. You especially loved the footrest since that had the large toy white cat on it. Pixie you are adaptable and young so you will get use to the new place really fast. With a new place of our own maybe all three of us will feel a little more cheerful. This place is haunted by too many memories of Mom and Dad and constantly reminds us of how much we miss them.

A new life awaits the three of us but for me it will also bring a chance to help others on a larger scale. My niece is actively involved in the problems of the homeless and introduced me to some of the people she works with on United Way and other projects. I will have the time and resources down there to do my part to help others the way they helped Bernadette when she was left homeless with three children under the age of six. One of the reasons for living is to be able to help others. I’m not rich but I have time and talent I can use.

Being a caregiver is the most rewarding and most painful job in the world. I want to be able to help others who are in that position. Seeing how much Pixie helped keep my mother alive I want to explore getting pets to others who could use that love in their lives.

So kids we have one very busy year ahead of us with lots of changes. We have this old house to go through and clean up and sell. We have a new home to set up the way we want. We have new people to meet and some family that we can share our lives with. We have a lot of excitement and probably frustrations too but we made it through this year. We can make it through anything. Now come on you two how hard is it to say “meow y’all?”

My picture is called “New Year’s Prayer.” I pray 2011 is a good year for everybody. We all have a lot of work to do to help those who are less fortunate then ourselves but together we can do it.

Red, White, and Blue Christmas

2010-12-25T11:35:00.000-08:00

Christmas is a time of rejoicing. It is a time for family and friends to put aside grievances and try and join in the true Spirit of the holidays. It is a red, white and blue Christmas for me. The red holiday decorations are all over town and I put up a couple of decorations on the table just so we would have something Christmassy to look at. It is a White Christmas with plenty of snow on the ground. The blue comes from the physical in a badly bruised hand to the emotional, it is the first Christmas without Mom.

Christmas this year was simply going through the motions. I had to push myself to even think of the holidays. It feels so weird not having Mom here. I still continue to do things that I know she would love. I can hear Mom now looking at my Christmas picture telling me how cute it is and telling the little girl to get her thumb out her mouth and scolding the cat for playing with the ornaments. I had been at a total loss for what to do about the Christmas picture this year and subconsciously ended up doing the perfect “Mom” picture.

My Dad was the ultimate little kid when it came to Christmas. He was always the first one up and could hardly wait until it was time to open the presents. I inherited his ability to grown up and still be a big kid. I still get excited about opening gifts. My Mom was more blasé about the holidays. She was more concerned with Christmas dinner then the whole thing of unwrapping gifts. She hated to shop and frequently gave checks to people to buy what they wanted. Every once in a while though she would go through the catalogs she received almost daily and order something for us. They always turned out to be the perfect gift.

It was a tight Christmas for me. The COBRA has just gone up to $541.00 a month which wipes out over half of my Social Security. I did inexpensive gifts and a lot of home made. I know my three grandchildren love art work so I sent them two matted pictures a piece in themes they love. Several people got my art calendar with the listings of goofy holidays. All the women got one of a kind jewelry that I designed and made.

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday but today I just wish it would hurry up and end. I miss giving my Mom a hug and telling her Merry Christmas. I miss the look of joy on her face when she scolds me for spending money on her while wrapping herself if the fluffy light blue robe I just got her. She was so frail and got cold so easily. I can still see her showing Pixie the pictures I made and pointing to the cat in the picture and telling Pixie that was her. Of course she had to add that Pixie was much prettier of course.

I was able to see the joy on my brother’s face when he opened up the” Blazing Saddles” DVD and exclaimed it was his favorite movie. He was also very touched that I went ahead and bought him the Walkman MP3 player. He told me that he knew money was tight and that made the gift even more special.

I was Mom’s caregiver for six years. For six years I did her Christmas shopping for her and did all her wrapping. She gave me some challenges like Department of the Army floor mats for my brothers car. I did the Christmas dinner shopping for her. I made her cookies for this time of year. I went outside and took pictures of the snow for her since she really didn’t like going out it the cold weather.

I know that time eventually heals all wounds but there will always be an empty place inside where my parents were. I have so many wonderful memories of them that helps but it still doesn’t take the place of feeling their arms around me.

Next year will be a little easier because I will be spending the day with my niece and her family. She is like a daughter to me and I consider her three children to be my grandchildren. There will be an empty place where Mom and Dad should be but I understand it will always be there.

So Christmas is about half done for today. Merlin has his new catnip mouse and Pixie is playing Mighty Huntress with her new toy. My brother is getting ready to go back to work and I’m going to make some supper and watch some Doctor Who Christmas specials.

Thank you for your support during this rough year for me. I hope your holidays have been filled with joy and laughter and love.

A Kitty Christmas Card

2010-12-23T19:47:00.000-08:00

A few years ago I did this picture which I think succinctly sums a cat’s view of everything including Christmas. Merry Christmas from Merlin and Pixie. May Sandy Claws be good to your pets.

When Worlds Collide - The Plight of the Homeless

2010-11-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

Just when you think you have life together reality collides and your world is torn apart. Ten years ago my niece was married and had three children aged six, four and two. Her husband abandoned her with $20.00 and one suitcase of clothes for the four of them. Welcome to the face of the homeless. In a way she was fortunate because we did what we could to help out and her mother was there and even though she only worked at minimum wage jobs she could help a little. It was through the networks of North Carolina’s people who care that she was able to keep the children with her and find shelter and food while she struggled trying to find work in a depressed economy. If you can find work the cost of babysitting is more then you make. If you don’t find work you are reviled as being lazy and a drain on honest, hard working Americans. The wealthy elite who can afford to buy elections are so far away from the truth of homelessness that it is a sin that they should even be allowed to be in power and make decisions on lives they could care less about. They aren’t sure how many homes they own and can pump millions of their own money into smear campaigns but are blind to those truly in need. They are so concerned about tax cuts for the wealthy that they are incapable of seeing the people holding up cardboard signs with no food, no shelter, no hope.

I am going to be moving down to Winston Salem, North Carolina this Spring. My job of being a caregiver to my mother ended on May 26th with her death. My job at the hospital ended because of hatred and bigotry and an incompetent Administration who cut the low level employees and their benefits while wasting millions of dollars on renovations that we can not fill. With declining health I’ve decided to take early Social Security and try to supplement that with selling of art, jewelry and photography.

My niece because of a system that actually had some people in place who care and a support system of family is now remarried with a wonderful husband who loves her children and has made them his own. He is a Presbyterian Minister and we love him dearly in spite of the sports teams he cheers for. Besides he is a Doctor Who fan so he has to be good. The entire family wants me down there so they can help look after me. They worry about me being alone with COPD and degenerative arthritis. Of course I will also be there for them as they go through the minefield that is children in their teens.

I met a couple of people that my niece works with in the field of homelessness. It is something that is dear to her heart helping out those who are in the position she once was in. She has all but the thesis in her Master’s Degree and she wants to help others. I found out when I was there that 25% of the homeless are Veterans. We send our men and women out to war and then neglect them when they come home. I will be spending a great deal of my time in helping out along side of my niece. I realize that if it were not for my Mother carefully watching her money that I would be in no position to pay for the COBRA while I try and get disability. I would not have a home over my head while I try and get everything taken care of for my move and so that my brother and I can sell this house.

There are things we can do right now to help. If you check out this story today on Dr. Ray Workman in the Winston-Salem Journal http://www2.journalnow.com/news/2010/nov/19/poignant-portraits-ar-550208/ you will see how he is helping. And if you go here http://homelessposter.com/ you can buy the poster to help out. And if you are good at computers call the Bethesda Center. Someone has hacked their site and made it unsafe to go to in order to donate. Tax cuts for the rich? Bristol Palin as Dancing Queen? Come on we are better then that. We can do something to help those who really need our help. The Homeless? This is the new face of the homeless.

Life

2010-10-19T13:20:00.000-07:00

“Life. Don’t talk to me about life.” Marvin the depressed robot from "Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy"

The last week I have felt like Marvin. Life has been a bitch. I was set up at where I worked so that they could get rid of me for a two fold reason. One I am 62 and not in the best of health and businesses are getting rid of people like me in any manner they can so they can lower their insurance costs. Two I made the mistake of being really good at what I did and that pissed off the head of a department who does not like smart women who can discover when she and her staff makes errors. I was cash posting between 100 and 450 items a day. I was told if I made one single error I was out of a job. It was a deliberate set up to get rid of me. There was zero compassion for the fact that I was a caregiver for my Mom for six years and am now trying to restart life after her death and that I am still reeling emotionally from her death. Six years is a big chunk of your life and 62 is a hell of a time to start over. So what now?

I have spent my life working at jobs that paid the bills. It supported my being able to do and run science fiction conventions. It has supported my being able to do art and cooking and photography and writing and poetry. I can’t say that the jobs were the best of times but it kept body and soul together and supported my cats in the process. Do I try for another job and face the same possibilities that this company too doesn’t want an older worker with health issues? Or do I look at the fact that I have been working since 1966 and can draw early social security? Do I face the fact that the COPD and degenerative arthritis has finally gotten to the point where it is impacting on my way of life? Or most importantly of all do I face the fact that I have two cats, Merlin and Pixie, who don’t really like each other and I have to be referee?

Okay the last question was flippant but I need to try and keep a sense of humor or I’m going to go crazy. After looking at my life and bank balance I realize I can survive for a while without making a decision but it would be smarter to make some plans. I’m tired and hurt from the moment I wake up to the moment I finally fall asleep knowing that I will wake up several times hurting. I can’t face another full time job even if I could get someone to hire me. I can get COBRA so at least I have medical insurance for a while. I’m trying to see if I can get disability so that when the COBRA runs out I can still get my medicine. So what do you do with this new life that is spreading out before you?

In my case I am planning to do something I have always wanted to do. I am a creative person and I plan on trying to earn some extra money with the photography and art. I am going to try and get my first book of fantasy short stories published while I am working on the second book. I am going to try and get my poetry published. I have enough recipes for a cookbook and I am trying to find someone who would sponsor the cookbook. I am thinking of OXO since with my arthritis I use their products. People with severe arthritis need to know that they can still enjoy cooking.

Those projects will help nourish the creative spirit and bank account. In practical terms I need to go through this house and clean things out so that it can be sold. In doing so I will gather all the information and pictures I can about both my parents. I want to write their story not only for myself but for the family. I am finding that there are still things that I know that my niece had never heard of. I want her and her three children to know more about their grandparents and great grandparents. I have my own story to tell. I have had an interesting 62 years so far and have some good stories to tell.

One thing that being a caregiver has given me is a renewed sense of activism. There is so much that could be done to make it easier to care for someone. It is hard to find the resources to keep going and get people the care they need. Care giving is a labor of love but it is also one of the hardest jobs in the world especially if the person you are caring for is a relative. You want to see that person as they were. I wanted so much to see my Mom as the vigorous person she always was. It hurt so bad to see that once straight back bent over. It hurt to see how twisted and deformed her fingers became with the arthritis. She was 94 pounds when she died. She was skin and bones. She had gone from robust to fragile in the blink of an eye.

In the last week I have made the conscious decision that I need to honor my parents by being strong. It would be easy to give up. It would be easy to swallow a bottle of pain pills and say I can’t face it any more. It would be easy to refuse to get out of bed and just lay there and vegetate. I have cried many tears. I have been angry. One thing I am not going to do however is quit. That bitch who cost me my job is not going to win.

I am going to be moving to North Carolina to be near my niece and her three children. I am the godmother to the four of them. It will be easier to get some help down there. My niece’s husband is on the Advocacy Board and she has already contacted someone who is willing to help me. I have a state of the art computer to do my art work on thanks to my Mom. I have a new Canon Rebel camera to do professional photographs with thanks to my brother. I have my first professional photography job at the end of the month.

I have a life and I plan to live it to the fullest. I have things I want to do. Little things like make a dress for my niece for Halloween. They do a theme each year and this year it is "The Lord of the Rings.” I promised an Arwen dress for her. After all I made her wedding dress four years ago when I promised her a "Princess Bride" dress. I majored in theater and love Shakespeare and I have "Hamlet" with David Tennant in the title role and Patrick Stewart as Claudius to watch. My grandnephew Tristan and his Mom watched it and loved it so I need to watch before I go down there to visit the beginning of November. I have Pixie and Merlin to cuddle and their fights to break up.

When life hands you lemons make lemonade and while you’re at it make a profit by selling it. My new business card is made and these pictures are on it. I am going to be as busy as a bee and soar like an eagle. Yeah life. Love it or loath it. You still have to deal with it.

Mother Earth

2010-10-13T09:45:00.000-07:00

Mother Earth, Terra, third planet from the sun, however we want to refer to her she is our home. She is the only home we have and we need to take good care of her. Right now she is putting on a display of color for us. The colors, the beauty, the serenity of walking through nature is my solace during troubled times. These are from my walk today and since I don’t really have a country lane going through the flowers I can walk through I did my own.

How Art Teaches Us How to Change

2010-09-11T08:49:00.000-07:00

I always get frustrated at the fact that one of the first things that gets cut when schools are trying to save money is the arts. I majored in theater and know the love of being on stage. I’m a writer of both poetry and fiction. I’m an artist. For me the arts are not a luxury they are a way of life. The arts in its many forms can not only entertain but it can teach. It can make you think.

Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin is widely considered to be a major influence in starting the American Civil War. John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath created major controversy in its depiction of migrant farm workers. George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess for all its faults did provide for African Americans the showcase to prove they could be a force to be reckoned with in the entertainment business. A Raisin in the Sun was the first play written by an African American woman to be performed on Broadway. Andrew Wyeth and Norman Rockwell showed that art and the common man belonged together. Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie brought an awareness of the working man’s condition to the world of song.

The arts like anything else can be turned and used for propaganda. The arts can also be a powerful tool to teach and bring to the forefront the issues and problems of real people. By its very nature art changes and evolves. A few years ago the idea of doing art on computers was laughed at. With the arthritis in my hands it is the only way I can do artwork these days.

It is in this ability to change and adapt that art has the most valuable lesson for today’s world. We must change and try new ideas if we are to conquer the problems facing us today. The ideas of the past are not working. I work in a small town hospital. I know from first hand experience that there is a health care crisis. I see people struggling to find jobs and to pay their bills. FDR realized with his New Deal that it is the common man who suffers most in economic down turns. We must change and we must push our representatives to change. The policies of the previous eight years have been proven not to work. It is time for the common man to be represented and given the chance to live the American Dream.

As readers of this diary know I was the caregiver for my mother for six years. We lost Mom in May. We had lost my Dad in May of 1999. Both of my parents loved my artwork and I frequently did pictures specifically for my Mom in the last couple of years. My Dad was a major reason that I pursued the art as he was one of my biggest cheerleaders. The last picture I did before my Dad died was one I called Gathering Moonlight. The picture illustrates a scene in one of my short stories. My Dad loved the picture. I have been reworking old pictures as the models and technology has advanced with computer art and I want the pictures to reflect those changes and the new techniques I have learned. I always hesitated to redo Gathering Moonlight because of the emotional connection it had for me as the last picture Dad saw before he died. Last night though I asked myself the question what would you do if Dad were still alive? The answer was that I would redo the picture and show it to him. So for Dad and Mom here is the new version of Gathering Moonlight. You have to be able to change. The past formed our present and what we do in the present will form our future. If we don’t want to repeat the errors of the past we must change now or there will be no future. This is the lesson we can learn from the arts.

Perchance to Dream

2010-09-05T09:21:00.000-07:00

I have always had problems with insomnia. On weekdays when I know I have to be at work I’ll go ahead and take the Ambien so I can at least get some sleep. On weekends or days when I don’t have to work I’ll just do the best I can. Often times it means that I get up in the early hours of the morning and go on the computer. Pixie is my companion at those times as she is a little night owl. Merlin just takes over the whole bed and goes back to sleep.

I have been going through a bout of really missing Mom the last couple of weeks. I have been dreaming of her the last couple of nights. After the nightmare of a couple of weeks ago I was hoping not to dream of her but the land of dreams follows its own rules. I’m beginning to suspect that Pixie is avoiding sleeping at night. Mom would proudly tell me in the mornings how Pixie would “sleepy time with Grandmother all night” although I knew she had been up prowling when Mom was asleep. She would come upstairs to my room to eat on the off chance that the upstairs kitty café was serving a different menu from the one downstairs.

Last night Pixie cuddled up next to me for over an hour although neither one of us slept. She catches up on her sleep during the day. She still keeps watch on me at three in the morning, the time we believed that Mom died. She needs to make sure that I don’t leave her like Mom did. She comes in several times during the night to check. I think that is her way of dealing with the loss. She has chosen me to be her new person and she checks up on her person frequently. As time passes maybe she will be a little more secure and actually curl up on the bed and sleep.

The night before when I dreamed of Mom it was a dream where I knew she was dead and shouldn’t be where she was. I was trying to get her back where she belonged. She could only go through the motions silently visiting that way. Last night I dreamed again of Mom but this time she came for a visit to comfort me. We spent a day with me taking her to the stores on the shopping trip that she wasn’t well enough in life to go on. The next morning in the dream I was finding evidence that she had really been there. I was the most comforting dream I have had since she died. I hope Pixie has comforting dreams like that. She really misses her Grandmother.

I think it is significant that I had that dream right after I started a prolonged creative streak and have been doing a lot of art work. I am even embarking on a new short story for the first time in four years. I think Mom knows I miss her and she wanted me to know that she is still with me. I am still finding my way after being a caregiver for six years. I think Mom was trying to tell me last night that she appreciated my being here with her and that she will always be with me in spirit.

Street Punk Neurosis

2010-08-28T12:01:00.000-07:00

The politest thing you could say about my cat Merlin is that he is a “wuss.” Bravery and Merlin are a complete contradiction in terms. Pixie on the other hand is the brave one. My Mom told everyone who would listen that Pixie was the brave one of the litter and came into the house while her siblings hid. Pixie is definitely the “alpha cat” in the household. I would like to try and say Merlin is a gentleman but unfortunately when a 17½ pound cat runs away from something that is 9 pounds and half his size coward tends to be more appropriate.

It is now three months since that horrible day when my brother came home from work and discovered Mom hadn’t slept in like we thought when we went to work that morning but had a fatal heart attack shortly after going to bed. Pixie stayed with Mom’s body until Mike came home and has avoided Mom’s bedroom ever since. In fact she spends little time downstairs and has taken over Merlin’s upstairs territory. At times it is hard to believe that it has been three months that Mom has been gone and at times it seems like just yesterday.

The stresses from those first few days seem to continue in new and different ways. At times I feel strong enough to stand them and at times I feel like I’m completely losing it. My brother and I pushed the biggest stress, cleaning out and fixing up the house, and selling it until next Spring. I couldn’t cope with it and the stresses of my job at the same time. The one thing I know for sure is that I want out of this little town and back to a larger city. I’ve been here six years caring for my Mom and the town’s people still seem to be surprised that I exist. Most of the cards and letters of consolation were addressed to my brother. No one in this small town cared that I was the caregiver and I was hurting too. I’m the outsider still and they have made it very clear I always will.

As Pixie came to grips with her grief at losing her “grandmother” she did what she had done at the very start. She looked around and decided that someone else was to be “her” person. Of course her person and slavery may be a bit mixed up in her mind. Mom had spoiled Pixie completely. Pixie wanted food she sat on the counter and demanded to be fed. Pixie wanted a nap on Mom’s lap then Mom sat there in the chair and held her for a couple of hours while she slept. I would come home from work and Mom would beg me to take her cat so she could get something done.

o be honest I spoiled Merlin but he at least knows that I have to work and do need some time to myself on the computer. Pixie seems to think every waking hour should be devoted to her. I am now supposed to be her person and lavish the attention that Mom did on her. She doesn’t seem to believe that Merlin counts. After all he had twelve years of being an only child and it is her turn. She chases Merlin away when I’m not watching her. Merlin has taken to leaving cat poop around the house in rooms where I frequent in order to try and mark those territories as his. I tried giving him his own litter box which he seemed to want at first but Pixie decided she liked that one instead. Finally at my wits end I took him to the Vet to make sure nothing was wrong with him. My Senior Citizen is very healthy but has “anger management” issues. The Vet has given me some medicine to help Merlin with the stress. In one of those life is funny moments it turns out to be the kitty version of what I’m taking to try and survive the stress overload I’m under.

So now I come into the kitty political wars. If I can negotiate a truce between these two I want the Nobel Peace Prize. In a way watching these two is like watching politics. On the one hand you have Merlin who was adopted at four weeks and never had to struggle. I’ve always taken care of him. He can be very needy and neurotic. On the other hand we have Pixie who in spite of the fact that my Mom called her a Princess is in reality a little street punk. She was born in the storage shed attached to our house. She decided that she wanted things better and pushed her way in. If Merlin could have an easy life then so can she. The difference is that she will fight for what she wants and Merlin won’t. As for myself I have a neurotic and a street punk and I love them both.

Love of a Child

2010-08-20T17:21:00.000-07:00

One of the people I love most in the world is named Tristen. He is starting his Freshman year in high school. His mother is my niece although our relationship is really more of a mother daughter relationship. I am her Godmother and Godmother to all three of her children. Tristen is the middle child and has been diagnosed with Asperger’s. His hasn’t been an easy life but he has turned into the most incredible young man I have ever known. We are each other’s cheerleaders.

Berni and I are a lot alike and we talk frequently. Sometimes with three kids you need an adult who understands. She has a wonderful husband now but she and I are survivors of abusive marriages and we have a bond that will never be broken. I got my Geek started in science fiction conventions that I worked and even ran. Meeting some of the stars of Doctor Who, especially Tom Baker, is what got her the second date with her now husband.

Tristen for many years was misdiagnosed but his Mom refused to give up. She finally found someone who would listen and tell her what was really wrong with her oldest son. In the four years since she remarried Tristen has grown up enormously. He was able to go to Houston’s Space Camp and had a wonderful time. He is a total Geek and we had a conversation not long ago that went from Doctor Who to Torchwood to Star Trek to Star Wars to computers to the thousand and one uses for duct tape that we both love. For Christmas I’m getting him some of the McGuyver DVDs. I loved Mac and I’m sure Tristen will too.

It spite of all his problems he and I bonded from the very start. Often times when I’m down he will suddenly email me on Facebook or pass a message along to me from his Mom. Knowing how he has helped himself overcome serious problems is a source of inspiration to me. He loves Fantasy and my short story collection “Sean’s Stories”. He loves my art work especially ones with dragons. I sent him my two newest dragons. He loved them. His Mom and Step Dad, soon to be adopted Dad, got away by themselves for the first time since getting married for three days. Her biological Mom watched the kids. I was impressed by the short posts Tristen has made recently on Facebook.

"Only time will tell if we stand the test of time!"

"They are back! Unfortunately, now they have to face the chaos of our household, especially with the upcoming school year."

"Mom and Dad are currently out on their vacation, leaving us w/ Gramma alone. I wish them the best of vacations, and hope that gramma can survive Zack without the "Parent Buffer".

And after having a horrible few days at work and being home ill his response to my dragons made me feel much better and loved. You can’t beat the love of a child. They are our true resources and we need to improve everything from health, to schools, to the world we live in for them. On the Western dragon Tristen said: "I love it!” And on the Easter dragon he said:"I love it even more! the lilac background compliments the silver dragon perfectly!”

Time

2010-08-14T17:48:00.000-07:00

Time is something that has fascinated man from the very first. Time is usually broken into past, present and future. It is hard sometimes to think of the past without thinking of “if only.” On the day Mom died, in that first moment of shock after my brother’s phone call, I remember saying that I should have gone home when Mom didn’t answer the phone. That I might have saved her. My boss held me and told me that I didn’t know that. My friend Suzette drove me home that day. Of course I now know that it wouldn’t have made any difference. Mom died in the early hours of the morning and it was instantaneous. Our past shapes our present and our present shapes our future. In looking through Mom’s photo albums today trying to find a picture for my niece I came upon these late 1800’s early 1900’s pictures of my Mom’s family.

There is a picture of my Great Grandmother and Grandfather Hughes. Did they ever wonder about the past when their families came over from Ireland? There are two pictures of my Great Grandfather Hensley, one taken at a Civil War Veterans reunion. Did he ever wonder why this nation had to tear itself apart in the Civil War? There is a picture of my Great Grandmother Hensley who was pure blooded Cherokee. She was adopted by a white family and raised as white. Did she ever wonder why her people’s land had been taken from them and why they thought she had to be raised as white? There is a picture of my Grandmother Hughes and two of her sisters. Did they wonder if there was a life for women that didn’t just consist of being a housewife?

Time. We exist in it. We fight with it. We dream in it. Sometimes we have to stop and look back and say I did the best I could in the past. I was the best caregiver I could be to my Mom. I know that the present is painful now but I also know that the future will ease the ache like it has eased the ache of Dad’s death. I just need to give myself time and in the annuals of time two months is such a short period. But right now in the present I realize I need to get these old pictures scanned into the computer or we will loose the images of that past. That past made my mother. I also have pictures from my Dad that need to be scanned too. In the past is my present and in the present I am making my future. That future will try and keep alive memories of the past.

Nightmares

2010-08-12T19:29:00.000-07:00

“Pain makes man think. Thought makes man wise. Wisdom makes life endurable.” Teahouse of the August Moon

I am a theater person. It was my major in college much to my parents dismay. One of the first plays I was in was Teahouse of the August Moon and the quote above has always been with me. For people who think the arts are frivolous it is the arts that shape you and make you think. Pain hurts but it does make you think. Last night I had a nightmare that has shaken me so bad that even though I know I must I’m almost afraid to try and go to sleep. Thinking and writing about it may help me endure.

As many of you know I was the caregiver for my Mom these last six years. I gave up a job I loved and packed up my possessions and put them in storage because my Mom asked me to help her. My Mom never asked for help. She was always Mrs. “I can do it all without help thank you very much.” My Dad’s sudden death changed that and she realized how much she had depended on him and now needed some help herself. I was her “go to” person. Finally when things were changing for the worse on my job she took the plunge and asked me to move in with her because she needed help.

Mom had always been fairly healthy but with her family history she was a candidate for heart problems and when it hit it hit her without warning. She had a heart attack that almost killed her. I was in the throws of an abusive marriage at the time and my husband had made sure that there wasn’t enough money for me to fly home and help my Dad get through the difficult time of not knowing whether Mom was going to live or not. Mom pulled through and I fled my hell. Dad was supposed to hang in there until I could get back to the Midwest. I was to take over from him on tracing the family tree. He died of a sudden heart attack a month before I could get back. Five years later his wife asked me to come live with her. There were things only a daughter could do.

I have never regretted my decision to come here in spite of the pain that it caused. It was hard to see Mom deteriorate before my eyes knowing I could do nothing to stop her heart failing. It was a hard six years. They never quite prepare you for the heartache that comes from care giving. You become a caregiver when things have gone wrong and can’t be fixed. It is a mater of time and you don’t know how much time you will have. I had six years. Six years that ended with a call from my brother saying “Sis you have to come home right away. Mom is gone.”

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was supposed to be there for her to the end. She wasn’t supposed to have gone to bed and had a sudden heart attack leaving only her cat to be with her till the end. Her cat Pixie is now my cat Pixie. The little black rascal who brazenly walked in and realized she had a house full of suckers to take her in and make her their Little Princess. She didn’t care that Merlin the Magician didn’t want any competition. She was the smart one of the litter.

Although I have walked away from the Catholicism of my youth I have still retained the Celtic belief that after we die we will be rewarded. I still believe there is a Heaven. Although my Heaven is probably closer to the Simpson’s episode with Liam Neeson and is a place with drinking and boxing and step dancing and all the glorious fun that comes with my Celtic heritage. As I promised her when I said goodbye and that I would take care of Pixie I also felt that she would be in a place where she never had to suffer. She would be with my Dad and like the Dad I dream about she would be young and healthy. She wouldn’t be the thin bent woman she had become. She wouldn’t have bandages on her head from surgery to remove cancerous growths.

In last night’s dream Mom appeared and she had made it clear she was dead. I don’t remember what she was talking about but she collapsed on the floor. She was even thinner then she was at death. She was even less the 94 pounds she had become and she had the large bandage on her head from the surgery a few months ago and she was in pain

I refuse to believe that I went through all this pain and that she is still suffering. Damn it she has to be free from the pain and be happy. She was a good woman and I can’t believe she is still suffering. It isn’t right

I have to go to work tomorrow and for that I need to sleep. After all I now have two cats to support. I can only hope and yes pray that tonight’s sleep will be different. Pixie has been very subdued for a couple of days and I’m afraid she is plagued with nightmares too. She rushed in last night when I woke up crying to comfort me and to get comfort herself. Mom was a good woman and she deserves to be rewarded. I don’t know what triggered last night’s nightmare but I suspect that the battle to get the insurance company to repay the money they stole from Mom has a part in it. Right now though Pixie is crying and I need to go to her. We both loved Mom so much. She was as much a caregiver as I was and that is a lot to ask of a three year old cat.

United Healthcare Rips Off the Dead

2010-08-07T13:15:00.000-07:00

The late Peter Finch in the movie “Network” said the immortal lines, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more.” That is how I feel right now and I want the world to know how United Healthcare rips off the dead. This is my story.

In April of this year my Mom got tired of paying the high premiums to United Healthcare for her secondary insurance to Medicare. She paid $153.50 a month for nothing. They hardly ever paid a dime on any of her bills. I finally convinced her to check out something else and we made arrangements to go with Banker’s Life. Banker’s Life informed United Healthcare of this and that as of June 1st Mom was changing her insurance. Mom died suddenly on May 26th. Since that time United Healthcare has taken out the June and July premiums for an insurance that was canceled on a woman they had been informed was dead.

I have faxed copies of the death certificate and emailed them over a half a dozen times. I have called continuously. I have been given the run around. Still no refund of the money. I filed charges on line with Indiana’s State Attorney General’s Office against United Healthcare a few minutes ago but I want to do more. I want people to know just how dishonest these people are. They have taken $307.00 from a dead woman’s account on insurance that she had canceled on the first part and when they knew she was deceased on the second part.

For those idiots who want to repeal the health care reform I promise you that you will have me at your throats letting the people you are trying to convince that reform is bad know that you are liars in cahoots with insurance companies who rip off the dead. It is hard enough emotionally to come home and see your mother dead with out having rip off artists stealing her money. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more.

Stop And Smell The Roses

2010-08-06T04:31:00.000-07:00

The last two months have been so difficult with trying to cope with Mom’s death. Knowing that her heart could go at any moment did not prepare me for her actually going. My brother and I have been pushing ourselves trying to get everything done now. Last night we came to the realization that we needed to give ourselves time. I have been frustrated because I couldn’t force myself to go through Mom’s clothes. I couldn’t seem to find the energy to go through the closets and drawers and everything that had accumulated over the last few years not only from Mom but of Dad’s things too. We just couldn’t do it.

Last night Mike and I decided to concentrate on getting through the winter here and this Spring we can get the house ready to sell, We are going to give ourselves the time we need to heal. I am going to concentrate on giving Merlin and Pixie the time they need to heal. We are going to stop and smell the roses.

Merlin and Pixie are in the process of trying to come to an agreement on sharing Mommy. It is a reluctant agreement on their parts because they both want to be an only child and have me to themselves. Merlin has decided since I finally figured out that he wanted his own litter box that he will use it and not the bed or rugs to go on. He and Pixie have been switching places with Pixie being upstairs much of the time and he is taking over the downstairs. They share the bed time with me. In time Pixie may even realize that I’m not going to leave her a three in the morning and will let me sleep in.

It was a difficult realization that I couldn’t keep going the way I have been. For my sake and for the cats sake I need to just pull back and take it easy. After being a caregiver for six years I need to give some care to myself.

Being Alive

2010-08-01T09:25:00.000-07:00

One of the things I have always loved is photography. It was something that brought me close to my Mom. I would take off for a half hour or so with my digital camera and come back and process the pictures on my computer and then print the best out for my Mom. Occasionally she would ask me to photograph something special for her. Today is one of those beautiful days that makes you glad you are alive. These pictures are from this morning’s walk and are dedicated to Mom who would have loved them.

Time After Time

2010-07-31T08:13:00.000-07:00

When something happens one time you accept it as okay. If it happens a second time it might be a coincident. However, when it happens three, four, five times then you start wondering why? Why is Pixie waking me up at a few minutes past 3:00 AM?

It has been two months now since we lost Mom. Pixie had always been her cat. I will never forget my surprise when I came down three years ago to get my morning coffee and this little black cat waltzed out of Mom’s bedroom liked she owned the place. Mom of course put it on me saying that I wanted another cat. I thought she was kidding about adopting one of the litter that had been born in our storage shed. Little did I know that she had been letting one of the kittens in and feeding her and giving her the run of the house.

Pixie fits her name. She is a little rascal. She is into everything and everything is a toy. She is loving and funny and a brat. Mom loved her and Pixie had picked Mom out to be her special person. She added three years to my Mom’s life. She was with her when she died and stayed with her until my brother got home from work and could take over.

Pixie has decided that I’m her person now. She runs to greet me when I get home from work and wants to be held and cuddled. She stays close to me when I’m home. My brother is her go to person to get kitty treats. My Mom had spoiled her with deli meat and my brother continues to spoil her that way. I spoil her with hugs and cuddles.

For most of my adult life I had been a two cat household. When I lost Sasha a few years ago I had decided to just have the one cat. Merlin had always been a Mommy’s Boy. He had come into my life at the age of four weeks from a litter which the mother cat had abandoned. I had fed him bottles and he sucked on my fingers when he was stressed. He loved being an only child. Merlin hasn’t been too happy with Pixie deciding I was her Mommy now. He really isn’t into sharing. He also misses Mom because she would come upstairs and talk to him. They were two senior citizens together. He misses Mom. We all do.

A couple of weeks ago I realized I was no longer thinking of Pixie as Mom’s cat. She had become my cat. Pixie came to the conclusion at the same time. It was at that time that the 3:00 AM waking me up started. It wasn’t until two nights ago that I realized why. When it first happened I thought maybe she had a kitty nightmare. The second time I thought may be a coincident. As it continued to happen I wasn’t sure what was going on.

The doctor wasn’t sure exactly when Mom passed away but it was sometime during the night. I now know it had to have been a few minutes after 3:00 AM. Pixie must have tried to “wake” Mom up but of course it wasn’t possible to do so. Mom died instantaneously. Her heart just stopped. As Pixie has moved on to me being her person she is still haunted by that time that she tried and failed to wake Mom up. She is waking me up because she needs to know that this person isn’t leaving her. She is scared. In time the fear will go away and she will sleep through the night again knowing that I’ll be awake in the morning and pet her. In the meantime Cyndi Lauper’s song “Time After Time” is Pixie and my song.

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
and think of you
caught up in circles confusion--
is nothing new Flashback--warm nights--
almost left behind
suitcases of memories, time after--

sometimes you picture me--
I'm walking too far ahead
you're calling to me, I can't hear
what you've said--
Then you say--go slow--
I fall behind--
the second hand unwinds

chorus:
if you're lost you can look--and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you--I'll be waiting
time after time

after my picture fades and darkness has
turned to gray
watching through windows--you're wondering
if I'm OK
secrets stolen from deep inside
the drum beats out of time--

chorus:
if you're lost...

you said go slow--
I fall behind
the second hand unwinds--

chorus:
if you're lost...
...time after time
time after time
time after time
time after time

Picture Perfect

2010-07-24T19:10:00.001-07:00

I have always been conscious of how fragile this blue/green planet is that we live on. Ever since I was a child I read science fiction and it taught me to dream and also that while we may dream of new worlds we still only have this one planet to live on. Conservation is not a “hippie” thing. Conservation is a necessity if we want to continue to live on Mother Earth. She is all we have and we need to take care of her properly. I want to be able to continue to walk outside with my digital camera and take pictures at any time of year. We have to take care of this planet because pollution can destroy Earth’s ability to give us sights such as these. It is why conservation and fighting for the environment is my way of life.

Happy Birthday

2010-07-06T14:21:00.000-07:00

Today would have been my mother’s 84th birthday. I had plans to take her shopping over the weekend so we could use up some of the gift cards I had. Mom loved a bargain and loved gift cards. She was great at saving money. She was the coupon queen. Mom had decided a couple of years ago that this was to be Pixie’s birthday too. We aren’t sure when the cat was born but it was around this time. Mom wanted her cat to share her birthday.

I have continued to take pictures. Mom loved my pictures of flowers. She would have been happy to see the number of gladiolus that have bloomed this year. We have lots of the pink and yellow ones. I was really surprised to see a peach colored one this year. I don’t ever remember seeing a peach one before in our garden. I also would have done a picture for Mom since she loved my art work. I decided to go ahead and do a picture any way. Mom liked this particular outfit and I filled the picture with animals since Mom loved animals so much.

This is the first birthday without her and I’ve been thinking of her all day. I know from now on I have to think about doing the things that need to be done for myself. I need to get the house ready to be sold. I need to think about moving down to North Carolina to be closer to my niece and her children. Today though I’m thinking about Mom and wishing her a happy birthday.

I was a caregiver for six years. My energy was focused on taking care of my Mom. As I move on I find that I want to get back to being more politically involved. There are a lot of things that I would like to see happen. The health care reform is only a start. There is more that needs to be done. There is more that needs to be done towards everyone having the same freedoms regardless of race, color, religion, national origin, sex or sexual orientation. That fight I want to get more involved in. The environment has never been in a more precarious situation. That fight I want to do more in. There is a lot that I can put my energies towards. Having experienced being a caregiver I can see where there are things that need to be done to help caregivers. Care giving is the most rewarding and the most difficult job there is and I would like to see what I can do to help others through that period.

There is a lot I am facing in the future. I have always felt that you can climb any mountain if you take it one step at a time. I am working now through the financial things from my Mom’s death. I am continuing working on my art and my photography. I have things I want to do but right now I need to tell a little black kitty happy birthday.

Flowerworks

2010-07-04T14:44:00.000-07:00

While many of us will be seeing fireworks as we celebrate the Fourth there are some beautiful flowers out too.

One Month

2010-06-25T16:51:00.000-07:00

It is one month ago today that I entered my Mom’s bedroom to see her dead body lying on her bed, her sightless eyes starring at the ceiling, her mouth opened as it was when she was having trouble breathing. It is a sight that has haunted me ever since. I can banish the sight when it tries to force itself on my consciousness. What I can’t banish is the pain that seems to get progressively worse instead of better. I’ve learned a lot this last month though. Here are some of the lessons I’ve learned.

I’ve learned that even though my older brother and I will never, ever agree on politics we can be there for each other. He has even been careful not to criticize Obama in front of me. Now that is real progress. I learned long ago that being one of the two real liberals in a family (the other being my niece) of conservatives is not all that easy. My Dad was middle of the road and so is my middle brother. The others are dyed in the wool conservatives and as long as we keep off of politics we can talk to each other some times. Mike has been a tower of strength for me.

I’ve learned that sometimes you have to just pick up the phone and yell and cry and finally you can talk with family and they can understand. I learned that sometimes the old saying that there is a reason the word ass is in assume is true. If we had been given the chance my older brother and I could have explained the Memorial Mass was not something Mom was opposed to. I had talked to her a month before she died and specifically asked her if we could have Masses said in her memory. We knew she didn’t want a big fancy funeral Mass and procession to the cemetery. That wasn’t what was planned or what we did. Sometimes you have to let the others know the pain that was caused by their silence and refusal to even talk to us. I made the call and at least with one brother the healing has started. I emotionally can not do another call right now. I’ll let the one brother pass the message onto the other.

I have learned that people I have not met in person can still be some of the most loving and generous people around. I am very grateful to the people over at Daily Kos and Street Prophets for their help and love through this last month. I appreciate you putting up with all the diaries about Pixie and Merlin.

I especially appreciate just how much comfort two vastly different cats can be. Pixie is full of energy and love. She lets me know that I am now Mommy although the little brat has realized my brother is up and is down begging meat from him. Merlin is back to being his old grouchy, set in his ways, self although come thunderstorms and he is right there expecting Mommy to take care of him. I cherish their love and idiosyncrasies. Now if I can just get the two of them to stop fighting all the time. Boy do I sound like my Mom right at the moment.

I made it through the first month. I realize it will continue to be hard until we can get all the financial things taken care of. We have a house that we have to somehow get cleaned out from my pack-rat mother’s possessions. She was a Depression kid and saved every thing and bought every thing that was on sale. Right now we have enough toilet paper and paper towels to tepee the entire town twice. We have to somehow get everything fixed up and get the house sold and figure out where to live next. My brother wants to stay here. My niece wants me is North Carolina. My friend Colleen wants me to move in with them in California. I just want to be able to figure out how to make the rest of my life happen.

After six years of being a caregiver for Mom at her request I now need to figure out how to live my own life. It isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. It is hard to think about me when you have spent six years of thinking about someone else. Most of all I wish I could stop crying so much. I know that time heals but it is sure taking a long time. I sometimes feel like saying “God give me patience and I want it now!”

Small Things

2010-06-18T14:58:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday of last week we laid my Mom to rest burying her ashes on Dad’s grave. It was hard to comprehend that the small urn was all that was left of Mother’s mortal remains. Mom wasn’t that big. When she died she was only 94 pounds. It has been an emotional roller coaster this last week and a half for me. I find myself in frequent tears. I have been reflecting on little things since then.

At 8½ pounds Pixie is probably a normal to medium size cat. Compared to Merlin who is 17½ pounds she is little. What isn’t surprising is that for someone that little she is big when it comes to her need for affection and the love that she returns. Pixie has been all over me since Mom died. She has decided that my brother is good for feeding her the deli meat treats but I am supposed to continue to give her the love and affection that Mom gave her. She always came to greet me when Mom was alive unless of course she was curled up on Mom’s lap. Lap time was sacred. For the first time she has gone back into Mom’s bedroom. I went in for the first time in a couple of weeks to get the jewelry and get it sorted out. Pixie joined me and then came upstairs to “help.” It was healing for both of us to go back into the room where Mom died.

For many people a computer is no big thing. We are so used to working on computers that we take them for granted either that or if you have a garbage system like we have at work you call them every name in the book. When my art/internet computer died my Mom insisted on buying me a new computer. We had our tech at work build a system for me that was geared to my needs. The system itself isn’t large but the speed and computing power makes it a huge machine for me. It was a wonderful gift from my Mom and every time I use it I say a silent thank you to her. For Mom it wasn’t a big deal. She had paid for two computers for my brother and insisted that she could buy me one too. Of course the first major work out for the new machine was the two dozen Easter cards that I made for her. So something that was a little thing for Mom is a big thing for me.

When I first got my Merlin he was four weeks old and fit in the palm of my hand. I didn’t expect him to get this big. Of course in his eyes he is still the tiny little kitten that I first brought home. For something that started out that little he certainly has brought a lot of joy into my life. He has a definite personality and is the biggest Mama’s boy you have ever seen. My little fluff ball is a big bundle of love.

I like taking pictures especially pictures of flowers and nature. For me walking for an hour or so taking pictures is no big thing. I get my exercise and have fun with my digital camera at the same time. For my Mom and my Aunt however the pictures were received with a huge amount of joy. Both of them love flowers and looked forward to seeing the pictures. My Mom would occasionally note that something was coming into bloom and would ask if I could get some pictures for her. It isn’t hard for me to take pictures and tweak them in Photoshop and print them out on my computer. So something that is a little thing for me brought a lot of joy to my Mom. I’m going out this weekend and take pictures of the golden lilies that are now blooming. We plan on going up to see my Aunt Bird soon and I will take the pictures to her. She is my Mom’s only living sibling now and I cherish her and she loves my photographs so I will continue to take pictures for her. I took the cloud picture a couple days after Mom died. It has been a symbol of love and hope for me because I believe at that moment my Mom was trying to tell me that she was okay and happy.

As the saying goes good things come in small packages. It is the little things that I am remembering about my Mom. I am daily reminded of her as I give love to her little Pixie. Pixie and Merlin continue to give me love back. As a Hawaiian friend of mine would say it ain’t no big thing.

Pat

2010-06-09T14:36:00.000-07:00

Today marked the final journey for my mother. We got the urn with her ashes and they are being interred next to Dad. Their were just my brother and I along with our priest, Father Steve, and the representative of the funeral home. My brother remarked that today was harder then the Memorial service last Wednesday. I think because we were alone today it did feel a lot harder. I was greeted by Mom’s cat Pixie as I came home. She stays close to me now and I am the designated Mommy. Our hospital chaplain, also named Father Steve, told me after the Memorial service that I needed to do a special picture for my Mom. I finished it last night.

The picture is called “Pat.” It was years before I realized that my Mom’s real name was Mary Jane and not Pat. Everyone I knew called her Pat. It was one of those “huh” moments for a child and of course I had to find out how they get Pat out of Mary Jane. Mom was so proud of being half Irish. When she was a child her friends called her St. Patrick and then shortened it to Pat and Pat she always was.

I had always hoped to take Mom to Ireland. I made sure she had a St. Patrick’s Day card from me and for the last few years an Irish themed picture to go with it. The picture is my interpretation of an Irish farmyard. Mom was always a farm girl at heart. She never was comfortable in big cities and big city traffic. I put the lady in the picture wearing Irish clothes. Even though Mom always felt she was a farm girl I figured in my eyes she was much more then that. The “Irish Princess” dress just seemed to suit her. Mom had red hair when she was younger and with the hazel eyes and freckles she looked Irish. Of course the lady had to have red hair too.

When she was a teenager Mom had a pet chicken named Nancy. Her Mom, who wasn’t the most sympathetic of people, actually let Mom stay home from school for three days after the chicken died because Mom was so upset. So of course I had to put a chicken in the picture. I put the sheep in the picture to represent the Irish woolens. My Dad was definitely a city boy. My Mom was trying to compliment him on his big brown eyes and told him he had eyes like a cow. So of course I had to put a cow in the picture. While Mom never had rabbits I put one in the picture because she always loved the feel of rabbit fur. She would pet my sister-in-law’s pet bunny whenever she went to their house.

Mom always fed the squirrels. Her cat Pixie loved to sit in the dining room window and watch the squirrels. Sometimes she would race from window to window to keep “her” squirrels in sight. One day Mom had baked brownies and had put the oven at too high of a temperature. The brownies really weren’t edible but she figured there was no sense in wasting them so she dumped the 13x9x2 inch pan of brownies outside for the squirrels and birds to eat. A couple of the squirrels tried to pull that entire huge brownie from the front yard to the tree with their nest in it. Mom thought that was one of the funniest sights she had ever seen. She laughed about that for months. I put a cookie in the squirrel paws in honor of the many cookies that Mom put out for them. I still try and put food out for the squirrels and birds in honor of Mom and Dad who both fed the animals. The designated feeding spot is in front of a statue of St. Francis that my parents have in the front yard. Mom was always a dog person.

For several years she was devoted to her dog Ruffles. She mourned the dog all her life, Considering that Ruffles was pure mutt, a little cocker and a little German Shepherd and who knows what else, it was hard to find a model of a dog that looked like her. I settled on the black and tan puppy because it looks a bit like Ruffles if she had had short ears instead of floppy ones. I couldn’t do a Mom picture without putting a dog in there.

The monarch butterfly has a special meaning. My Dad had been out planting a bush when he keeled over and was dead before he hit the ground from a massive heart attack. Mom says she was outside and watching the ambulance people trying to revive Dad and knowing that it was too late. There are few butterflies where we live. Mom says that a Monarch butterfly landed on the bush that Dad had planted and she knew then that Dad was telling her that it was alright. Mom was a fervent believer in Heaven and she felt that Dad was telling her that he had reached his destination there and that she would join him when it was time. She felt a wave of peace rushing over her.

The two cats are of course Pixie and Merlin. Pixie is the little black cat reaching up and trying to play tag with the butterfly. Merlin is the silver tabby walking with the lady. In real life Merlin is that big. He hits me at the knees when he rubs against me and when he stands on his hind paws he can put his front paws around my waist. I put birds in the picture because Mom was always looking out for them and would put food out for them in addition to the food for the squirrels. Mom has always loved rainbows and I put the rainbow in the picture in honor of her. She always loved it when my pictures had rainbows and I frequently used rainbow textures in pictures for her.

Mom always loved roses so of course I had to put roses in the picture. I put a rose in the lady’s hand. My brother told me to pick out the urn for Mom. He trusted that I would pick one that Mom would have loved. I chose one that had 3D roses on it. It is simple and beautiful and very much like my mother.

I finished the picture with a church and a Celtic cross. For my Mom her Catholic faith was a major part of her life. She rarely missed Mass on Sundays. I couldn’t do a picture that represented her without putting a church in it. So this was Pat. She finished her mortal journey today with the burial of the ashes. She is reunited in death with her husband of 55 years. I believe that spiritually she is reunited with him too.

For me the journey is just beginning. We still have financial things to figure out and the rest of Mom’s belongings to go through and sort. I need to figure out where I want to live and more and more it looks like I will join my niece and her family in North Carolina. I originally came here because Mom had asked me to come and help take care of her. She knew that her heart could go at any moment. I took care of her for six years and I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. It has made me aware of the challenges that caregivers face. In honor of my Mom I want to continue to help publicize the real needs and problems that caregivers face. It is a difficult job and there are many things that need to be done to help caregivers provide the best care possible. There are laws on the books that make it difficult for caregivers. I want to fight to make sure that caregivers have the resources necessary to provide quality care. It is my call to activism along with more and better health care. In honor of the little black cat that added three years to my Mom’s life I will also do what I can to make people aware of the needs of animals and to be responsible pet owners. These are the causes that I will honor my Mom Pat with. She always wanted to help others and I can think of no better gift then to do the same.

Double the Pleasure

2010-06-05T10:55:00.000-07:00

For many years I always had two cats at a time in my life. It started out when I was convinced to adopt a second cat by a sister-in-law. My cat Zonker was getting older and she thought I should have a second cat in the household. I adopted a kitten I named Sasha. When Zonker passed on I adopted my pure white cat named Casper. After I lost Casper, Merlin came into my life. When Sasha died I decided to go back to having just the one cat, Merlin. He has always been a very clingy mama’s boy. Fate is a funny thing. It doesn’t care what you have decided. Fate decreed that a little black cat was going to allow us to adopt her. Pixie was Mom’s cat and with Mom’s passing Pixie has informed me that I am now back to being Mommy to a two cat household.

After six years of being a caregiver to my mother I am trying to adapt to that part of my life being over. Family and friends are pushing me to start thinking about myself and what I want to do. It is harder to do then I thought it would be. When your life has been wrapped up in caring for someone else it is hard to figure out what you want for yourself. We will be getting Mom’s ashes on Tuesday and burying them on Dad’s grave as she wanted. We still need to go through her clothes and decide what I want to keep and what we are giving to Goodwill. I have a couple of cabinets that I need to clean out. We have her papers to sort and the financial things to finish and then that is it. Mom’s affairs will be done and after six years I start over again.

Now Pixie and Merlin are going to have to figure out how to get along and share me. I am adapting quite well to having two cats demanding attention. I was holding Pixie this morning with one hand and petting Merlin with the other. I need to watch my step because Pixie will zip between your legs and trip you up. She sent me crashing into the doors separating the dining room and kitchen this morning. She loves to try and tackle people.

One thing I have come to realize that I will have to do is chronicle the family stories. There were things that I was telling my niece this weekend about both Mom and Dad that she never knew. Some of them had her laughing and some of them were Wow! moments.

Dad graduated high school at the age of sixteen. He was extremely intelligent and skipped grades. He could not stand his stepmother and took off on his own. During the depression he found work in the government run CCC camps and other odd jobs. He was working on the farm of John Dillinger’s father when the FBI came to inform him that his son was killed. The father didn’t say anything to the people working for him until after the day’s work was done. That was a wow story for my niece. Some of the Dad stories I still need to relate to her are the nitroglycerine and the boxing stories.

As part of a CCC project Dad and another man were driving trucks to a site where the nitroglycerine was needed for clearing rocks for a road being built. The roads they were driving on were unpaved trails really and difficult to maneuver and dangerous at the best of times. Driving a truck full of high explosives was definitely not the best of times. Dad was in the lead truck. Dad heard the explosion when the second truck failed to clear either a hole in the road or some rocks. Dad had reached his destination. He stopped his truck and handed the keys to the foreman and walked away. He would not be driving again.

Dad was not a very big man. He was around 5’8” but he was broadly built especially around the shoulders and chest. While working in the CCC camps friends realized that with his build Dad had the makings of a boxer. In spite of the fact that he had zero experience Dad agreed to learn how to box. He went on the be the welterweight champion among the camps and retained a love of the sport until he died. Dad was so excited when he found out that I had met Bobo Olson who was a friend of one of my bosses at the time. He framed the autographed picture that I had Bobo sign for my Dad. It was one of my Dad’s prized possessions.

My niece found one of my Mom’s scrapbooks with pictures of her as a young girl. It was the captions that cracked her up. Things like: “Mike between 2 and 3. Pick a number. I didn’t get the dates on them. So sue me!” or “Michele about 18 mos. or 2 years. Getting some hair at last. See the dimple? Just one. I don’t know where the other one went.” Or “Mom at the ripe old age of 16 or so. Ye gad, my hair is a mess. Oh well, it hasn’t gotten any better with age, sigh!” Her hair was in old fashioned curls and looked just fine.

Mom was a farm girl. My niece loves to hear the stories of the courtship of her grandparents. When Mom and Dad first met she was working at the soda fountain at the local drug store. She was so nervous she dropped the hot fudge sundae she was holding in my Dad’s lap. She was trying to compliment Dad by telling him she loved the name Jack and that it was the name of the dog she once owned. She loved her dog. She also told Dad that he had beautiful brown eyes just like a cow. Well from a farm girl that was a high compliment. Dad who was not a farm boy didn’t quite know how to take that one.

So now we come to a new phase of life. The stories that Mom and Dad told me will be written down and chronicled. The pictures Mom didn’t get around to putting into books will be put into albums to preserve them after scanning them into the computer of course. Pixie and Merlin will now compete with each other for attention. Pixie will “help” me as she jumps up and walks in front of the monitor and on the keyboard. Merlin will continue to remind me that he is here and needs attention. I will figure out where I want to live and what I am going to do with the rest of my life now that I am no longer a caregiver to Mom. Mom and Dad, who were married for 55 years, will rest together in peace. Life goes on.

The Other Cat

2010-06-03T11:09:00.000-07:00

“Please tell me Pixie was with her” As I sat down next to Mom’s only living sibling, my Aunt Bird asked me that. It was so important to her that the cat my mother loved was with her baby sister when she died. I was able to reassure her that Pixie was with her when Mom died and she stayed with her until Mike came home to find her. An animal’s love and loyalty towards their people is something that we humans can learn from.

We had a Memorial Mass for my mother yesterday. It was a simple Mass and the priest wore white. There were no funeral dirges, no gloomy passages, no processions or burial in a cemetery. None of the things Mother did not want. She was always having our priest at St. Paul’s and Father Martial, a Franciscan friend of over 50 years, say Masses for her family and for her. For Mom her faith was one of the most important things in her life. Yesterday with her family and friends we celebrated Mom’s love of God and her love of the Catholic Mass. To be honest I think Mom preferred the Mass when it was in Latin and the songs Gregorian chants but Mom was definitely old fashioned. I had specifically asked Mom if we could have Masses said for her and she said yes. Yesterday was the first of many Masses that we will have said over the years for Mom and we will continue to do Masses fro Dad also. This Mass was a chance for family and friends to celebrate her life, her faith, and to comfort each other.

I have spoken of Pixie but there is another cat in the house that Mom had a relationship with and his name is Merlin. Merlin is my cat. He was rescued from a pound at the age of 4 weeks and I have been his “Mommy” ever since. My Mom loved to talk to Merlin. At 17½ pounds and big enough that he can wrap his front paws around my waist we are speaking about a whole lot of cat to talk to. Merlin is 12 and getting a little on the creaky side. I think he probably has a touch of arthritis. His main joy in life is his naps. He probably sleeps a good twenty hours a day. Merlin would look at my Mom as she talked to him. She would tell him that they were two old senior citizens together. They both creaked up the stairs. They were both shown up by Pixie who loves to zip up and down stairs especially if someone is trying to make their way up or down. Pixie is a show off. Merlin would look at Mom and his expression seemed to say, “Yep. I’m with you on that.” He seemed to know when Mom was telling him what a handsome fellow he was. The computer Mom kept her finances on is in my bedroom. So she would come up and sit there and type and talk to Merlin. It would crack me up when she would tell me about the conversations she and Merlin had together. Even though he is a confirmed mama’s boy Merlin still loved my Mom. He knew from the start that Mom had the makings of a cat person in her. He taught her that she needed to keep his food dish and water dish full. He would “sing” for her. Merlin can be very vocal sometimes. He has a meow that sounds like he is saying “hell no.” Every time he did that Mom would laugh and laugh. One evening I had finished supper and I was standing there talking to Mom and Merlin had been patient long enough and he came downstairs and he stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on my rear end and pushed wanting me to get a move on and go upstairs with him. Mom thought that was the funniest thing in the world. She told her sister and all her friends about it. Merlin cracked her up and he just loved it when she talked to him and he knew she was telling him how handsome he was. He loved Mom.

Merlin realizes Mom is gone. He has been very subdued this week and he lets Pixie on the bed and doesn’t object when I give her affection. In death they have reached a detente they refused achieve in life. Merlin has reluctantly agreed to share his Mommy with Pixie. So Mom left behind two cats who loved her. They are helping each other through.

At the Mass yesterday family and friends talked about Mom. We talked about how much she loved to write letters. We talked about how she loved to read. We talked about her love of animals. I promised her sister that I would keep in touch with her. Mom called her sister at least twice a week. I am going to continue the calls because this is my last chance to get all the rest of the family history and get it written down. I have the memories of Mom’s conversations that I have been writing down but Aunt Bird at 94 has even more stories that I can document a time and way of life I know little about. I can’t take Mom’s place but I can still give her the weekly chats she loves so well and we both have a lot of love for each other.

Our Mayor was at the Mass. She worked with Mom at the hospital. We had nurses that came and coworkers of Mike and I. Our handyman and his son came. The chaplain from the hospital came. Chaplain Steve told me right after Mass that I had to do a beautiful art piece now for my Mom. He loves my art like she did and thinks this would be a good way for me to honor her. I have an idea of what I want to do. My niece and I were batting around ideas last night.

I tried to go to work today but with the extreme bronchitis I’ve come down with my Boss was having nothing to do with it. She told me to go home and be with my family. My coworker said she would give me the PTO time to be off for the next couple of days. So I will rest until Monday and then try again. In the meantime the picture of an old fashioned redheaded woman in Irish green holding a black cat is flashing through my mind. Mom would like a picture like that. I’ll put a black and gray tabby in there too. After all Mom loved both of her grandcats.

That Darn Cat

2010-06-01T05:45:00.000-07:00

Just when you think you understand someone they do something so out of character that you realize you didn’t know them quite as well as you thought you did. Some people like to classify others as either cat people or dog people. I have always had cats. I am a definite cat person but I love dogs too. My Mom was a dog person. She grieved after the death of her dog Ruffles for years. Never in a million years would I ever have thought she would go goofy over a cat. This is the story of Mom and her Pixie.

Three years ago my Mom warned me when I came home from work to be careful with the car in the carport because a cat had just given birth to four kittens, three black and one smoky gray. Mom bought cat food. Of course she said it was only because the mother cat needed to be near her babies and shouldn’t have to go out looking for food. She wasn’t adopting them or anything don’t get the wrong idea. She was only helping out a lactating mother cat. Of course I put the validity of that protest right up there with the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. I wasn’t buying it for a moment.

Mother watched the kittens grow and when they were ready to be weaned she bought kitten food. Of course she was only making sure that the kittens grew up strong with the proper food. She wasn’t attached to them at all. Right. I wasn’t buying that one either. It is hard to maintain that fiction when you check on the kittens several times a day. It is harder to maintain that fiction when after the mother cat takes off you continue buying cat food and taking care of the growing kittens.

My mother’s experience with cats has always been through mine. She and Dad babysat Zonker and Sasha when I went on my honeymoon. She grieved with me when I lost Zonker. She was happy when I got Casper and grieved at his loss. She comforted me when I lost Sasha and welcomed Merlin to the family. When I came to stay with her I only had Merlin and he is the ultimate momma’s boy. I didn’t take her seriously when she asked if I wanted another cat. I love cats and said sure I would take another cat. I was sure this was a rhetorical question since Merlin is getting older and I thought she was talking about in the future after he had gone would I want another cat.

One morning I came down to get my coffee and out of mother’s bedroom prances this little black cat. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I looked at the cat rubbing up against me and asked if mother knew she was in the house? I leave for work, shaking my head, and wondering what in the world was going on. When I come home the cat is still in the house. Okay out with it Mom what is the cat doing here? Her first reply was that I said I wanted another cat. This one was the brave one of the four and kept coming into the house. She would let it stay and explore. It was so cute. She fed it and it just didn’t want to stay outside. Sigh. You let the cat inside and feed it and it doesn’t want to go back out? Mom definitely had a lot to learn about cats.

So much to Merlin’s dismay Pixie joined the household. Mother wasn’t going to get fond of her however. Easter Bunny time. Knowing that she was going to be an indoor only cat we were responsible pet owners and took her to the Vet to have her checked over and spade. Mother who wasn’t fond of her remember worried all night about Pixie. She missed her. She was worried that Pixie would think we abandoned her. She worried something would go wrong with the operation. She couldn’t wait for me to get home from work so we could go and get her. Pixie was held and cuddled and fussed over after she got home. But remember mother wasn’t fond of her.

One Saturday afternoon little Miss Adventurous dashed out the door. Mom was frantic. She and Mike searched for her while I stayed in the house in case she came back and wanted in. Mom was sure she was lost forever. My brother came upstairs carrying a cat and asking if this was the one. Looking at those big gold eyes and looking at the little notch in her ear I knew it was Pixie. And so the battle began of Pixie wanting to go out and explore and Mom determined she was staying inside.

Mom worked the three to eleven shift at the hospital at the beginning of Pixie’s reign. I use to listen for her to come in before I fell asleep at night. Mothers want to make sure their children are in safe and daughters worry about their mothers. One night Mom came up in an absolute panic. Pixie had gotten out and she wouldn’t be able to find her way back and wild animals would get her and she would be scared etcetera. Putting shoes and a coat on I went downstairs and we went out onto the carport. She had gone out of that door. Mom was so upset that she would never see the cat she wasn’t going to be fond of again. I finally had to gently tell her to hush a moment and give me the flashlight. Listening for the tinkling of the bell on her collar I realized the little minx was in the bushes. Shining the light on her I reached in and pulled her out and gave her to Mom who was practically in tears. I went back to bed to the sounds of my Mom scolding the cat for running out and scaring her grandmother to death. I mentally started taking bets with myself as to when Mom would finally break down and admit she loved the cat.

This old house has a basement and right by the stairs there is a ledge. Pixie discovered that running next to the ledge is a crawl space where she could run around, holler and hear her echo and generally get filthy. Pixie runs into the crawl space and Mom goes into a panic. I reassure her that the cat can not get stuck. She got in she can get out. She can’t fall through the ceiling. She can’t get lost. When she is darn good and ready she will come out. Pixie proceeds to play this little game of hide and seek whenever she can manage to zip by the humans and get into her crawl space. She played the game today. One afternoon with Mom practically in tears she begged me to try and get Pixie to come out. She had tried bribing her with food to no avail. I went down a second time, after ascertaining the first time that she was all right. Mom claimed the cat was crying and didn’t know how to find her way out. I knew she was listening to herself as her voice echoed. Something in my tone of voice told Pixie she better get her furry butt out of there right now. Bath time. Mom scolding the cat time.

It took about a year for my stubborn Mom to finally admit that she loved the cat. Everyone else knew it all the time. Let’s face it when every conversation started with her telling you the cute thing Pixie did, how smart she was and on and on you kind of get the idea that Mom was a tiny bit fond of her cat. Mom even retired from work because her daughter had no qualms about using the line that “Pixie needs you at home and would like you to retire and spend more time with her.” Yeah I know shameless. All I can say in my defense is that it worked.

And so it came to pass that a little black cat with big gold eyes and a white spot on her throat reaped the rewards of being the brave one of the litter. She was fed deli beef and turkey on demand. She was allowed on the kitchen cabinet, on one side only of course like she didn’t go on the other side when Mom wasn’t looking. She would hop onto Mom’s lap for her daily nap and Mom would stay in the chair and hold her because she was so comfortable she couldn’t bear to get her up. It has been three years since that day when Mom warned me to be careful that we had kittens in our garden shed. Pixie, little rascal that she is, added years to the life of a woman with an extremely bad heart. I am convinced that Mom held onto life so tenaciously these last three years because she loved her cat and Pixie loved her. As the Andrew Lord Weber song says, “Love Changes Everything.”

Remembering

2010-05-30T20:47:00.000-07:00

Today is officially designated as Memorial Day. It is a day when we remember our dead. It is also a day for the living. As an artist I try and do a picture each year to commemorate the day. Sometimes the picture comes easily but sometimes I struggle. With this picture I had an image in mind and then had to struggle to tell the computer what I wanted it to do. In the end we compromised and the computer and I came up with “Remembering Today.”

Have you ever tried to tell a computer what a rainbow is? The best you can do is say it is a point on the x, y & z axis’s at and go from there. You and I can look up at a rainbow and see the colors and hope after a storm. This rainbow has a special meaning. The computer is more literally minded.

Starting at the top of the rainbow is James Francis Wilson, he was my Dad’s father. He died when my Dad was 23. I never had a chance to know him but through my Dad I came to appreciate the things he passed on. Dad was very mechanically inclined and he inherited that from his Dad. My Dad adored him and that makes him a special person to me. It is eerie how much he and my Dad looked alike. According to my Aunt Hazel sometimes you had to look twice when one of them came into the room in order to tell who was who. They looked and sounded exactly alike. He liked sports and Dad was a sport’s nut. He and my Dad shared a love of baseball and softball. Being an only daughter was no barrier in my Dad passing that love onto me and tomboy that I am I loved playing catch with him.

Next down is a woman called Gertrude Tiffany Wilson. She was my Dad’s mother. She died when he was six. His memories of her were those of a child who loved his mother very much. I would have loved to have known this woman. She played a French horn in a circus band. She had to have been a fun and remarkable woman. The fact that my Dad missed her so intensely all his life speaks of a woman who loved and was loved.

Next down the rainbow is Jack Lloyd Wilson, my Dad. I’m remembering my Dad’s sense of humor today. When we got my Dad on the internet we told him about “handles” the name he would be known by. Only my Dad would pick “genlnuis” for a handle. I laughed and laughed when I realized it stood for “General Nuisance.” It was no wonder that Dad and I loved Monty Python. His sense of humor was very compatible with that British sense of lunacy.

The man in black and white is Hiram Hughes, my Mom’s father. I was privileged to know this man and love him. He was a tall, gentle, good humored Irishman. My mother was his “baby” and as her only daughter I was his special “baby” too. I was only eight when he died but I can remember him clearly to this day. I remember sitting on his lap and feeling the rough touch of hands that had worked so hard all his life. He believed in a honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay and he worked hard all his life. He never let anything get him down. His nickname was “Happy” and the picture you see of him is edited from a picture of him holding me on his lap. My mother mourned him all her life. I will never forget his love.

The woman is Una Mae Hensley Hughes and Mom’s mother. Talk about an opinionated, bull-headed, obstinate woman I’ll put my Grandma up against all contenders and would win. Did you know that her Dad won the Civil War single handedly on the Yankee side? The history books didn’t say anything about that? You just didn’t listen carefully to the stories my Grandma told. They broke the mold after they made her. I remember her well. I would call her up and my side of the conversation was “Hello Grandma” and after that I could read, do cross word puzzles, watch TV or anything else because that was the last word I would get in. She was such a character and I loved her dearly. She was a staunch Republican and anything that displeased her was the Democrat’s fault. Did you know that a barking dog was a Democrat? Remembering her today still makes me laugh.

The woman at the end of the rainbow is Mary Jane “Pat” Hughes Wilson, my Mom. We lost Mom on Wednesday. She died of heart failure in her bed in the home she loved. I have been struggling with the pain for days but today I am remembering her with laughter. Mom was passionate about her cat Pixie. Mom had always been a dog person and grieved over the death years ago of her dog Ruffles. As my cousin Janet and I were reminiscing the other day we never in a million years would have thought Mom could be so crazy about a cat. Pixie, however, is the prettiest, smartest, and most wonderful cat who ever lived. My Mom said so. About a week ago my Mom had to put her aloe-vera plant outside because Pixie kept digging it up and leaving it on the floor. Try not to burst out laughing when your Mom puts the cat on the counter and starts scolding her. “Look at me young lady,” my Mom said to the cat, “Dig you dig up my plant? You know better then that. How many times have I told you to leave my plants alone?” Pixie of course looked at her like she was losing her mind. Really you expect a cat to behave or do as she is told? Of course Pixie cuteted her way out of it and before the evening was over Mom was feeding her treats again. As a long time cat owner I just smiled. Mom was so very like her Mom that there was no reason to even try and explain the working of a cat’s mind. You know the” I am a cat and you are just a human” mentality? Pixie added three years to my Mom’s life so little Princess Nuisance can get away with anything she wants. She and my Dad would have gotten along very well. The General and the Princess sounds like it would make a fun book to read. Maybe I’ll write it one day.

So today is Memorial Day and even though it is a day to remember the dead and a day where some of us are dealing with a personal sadness it is also a day that brings a wealth of warm memories to me. So for the grandparents I never knew, the grandparents I did, and the parents I loved know that I’m thinking of you on this Memorial Day with love and some very happy memories and I know we will meet again. I love you and miss you but the warm memories I have will sustain me and will never fade.

Paw Prints on Your Heart

2010-05-30T09:21:00.000-07:00

The image of seeing my Mom dead in her bed, her unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling, and her mouth open as she was want to do in sleep because the congestive heart failure made it difficult to breath will forever be burned into my mind. The last day or two I have had flashbacks and keep seeing her like that. It has been terrible and frightening and leaves me physically shaking like a leaf in a wind storm. I can only imagine how Mom’s cat, Pixie, must feel. Pixie was with Mom when she died and stayed with her body until my brother came home and found her. Since Wednesday Pixie and I have had to go on a new journey together. A journey of pain held together by a bond of love between us and the blessings of the woman whose love we shared in life. This is how our journey is going.

Pixie is a very loving cat. I use to tease her that she is a little “love slut” because she will go to anyone for pets, food, affection, and most of all praise. I think my little girl knows she is beautiful and smart. She is also a little terror when it comes to my old cat, Merlin. The little minx loves to tease him and poor Merlin is paranoid enough without having to worry about this little black thing suddenly jumping out and swatting him on the rump.

Pixie’s domain has always been downstairs and Merlin rules upstairs. She stayed with Mom downstairs. Mom rarely came up because of her arthritis. Pixie would come up occasionally to eat out of the food dish up here and for me to pet her. She needed some “mommy” time. She may not have understood why “her human” decided to be grandmother instead of mommy but she accepted that I was the mommy although she didn’t really care to have to share affection with grumpy old Merlin who wouldn’t play with her on demand.

Pixie is spending much of her time upstairs now. If she hears my brother or myself up she comes running to us. Privacy to go to the bathroom? Not her she wants to be in there with you. She has found a soft place to sleep in a cupboard where we keep extra pillows and blankets. She knows how to open the door and always liked playing in the cupboard. Miss Explorer that’s our Pixie. Or nosy take your choice.

Pixie isn’t sure what happened. All she knows is the woman who held her and fed her and talked to her for three years is no longer here. Some strange people took her away and she hasn’t come back. What Pixie understands better then some family members is that her two people here are suffering too and need comfort and a voice and love to get through this. She held vigil over the body all day and she knows that her two humans here are having to face the trauma of seeing our beloved mother dead.

Pixie and I are spending a great deal of time together. She is still as affectionate as ever and she needs the reassurance that she will continue to be loved and pampered and cared for. She is sporting a new hot pink collar with rhinestone paw prints on it. In talking to Mom’s relatives they all ask how Pixie is doing. They understood Mom’s love for her.

I have been afraid to go to sleep because of nightmares and the constant seeing of Mom dead but last night I gave up and took a sleeping pill. During the morning hours I had a crazy dream but Mom was there as in life and I was showing her a new picture I had created. As she did in life when I showed her pictures in the dream she exclaimed over it and I heard her say something she had said in life so often “isn’t she beautiful.”

On my walk yesterday I was disappointed that there weren’t more flowers to photograph. I went up to the college and the plantings this year were boring at best and the flowers withering in the heat. I looked up and a cloud covered the sun and turned my camera to the sky. This picture is the result. Even with the dark clouds there was a shining sun glowing through. The picture is like my little Pixie. She is the sun in my life now. She and I are taking a hard walk together. I have always believed you can climb any mountain if you take it one step at a time. In our case we are taking it one paw at a time too.

Trying to Explain

2010-05-26T16:34:00.001-07:00

Three years ago a little black cat with big gold eyes and a couple of little spots of white on her decided that unlike her siblings she was going to be brave and come inside this house that was attached to the garden shed where mother cat gave birth to four kittens. I was so shocked one morning when I went down for coffee and this little cat sauntered out of my Mom’s room. We vetoed Mom’s original name of Snickerdoodles and the cat came to be known as Pixie. I never expected my Mom to go nuts over a cat but Pixie was her world. Last night we lost Mom and Pixie was with her. How do you explain to a cat where her beloved human is and what happened and who this person was that loved and spoiled you?

You see Pixie the reason Mom always referred to herself as your grandmother when it was quite obvious that she was your person was that she knew you would out live her and if she kept up the façade that I was you Mommy then she felt it wouldn’t hurt you as much. Mom was like that. If there was anything she was it was a Mom. Her family was her life. She liked to spoil her children although she wouldn’t admit that was what she was doing. You know how much she loved spoiling you. She would sit in Dad’s recliner and hold you for a couple of hours even though she said she had stuff that had to be done. You were comfortable or taking a nap and didn’t want her to get up. You had her wrapped around your little paw. She fed you on demand, held you when you wanted to be held, told you what a beautiful and smart cat you were. She loved you very much.

Your grandmother didn’t have the easiest of lives. She was a Depression kid and the memories of trying to just make it thorough the day haunted her always. She worked from the time she was little trying to help with expenses. She was the youngest living child of ten. She was especially close to her Dad who was a tall, skinny, raw boned Irishman. Mom’s nickname was “Pat” because she was so proud of being Irish and her friends called her at first St. Patrick and then shortened it to Pat. Every year I made sure she had a St. Patrick’s Day card from me and in the last few years an Irish themed piece of art work to go with it.

You didn’t get to meet your “grandfather” since he passed away eleven years ago. You probably wouldn’t have spent your nights on that bed where you snuggled next to Mom. Dad was one who believed animals had their place and his bed wasn’t it. Of course he would have held you and petted you when he thought no one was looking. Dad was like that. I use to refer to him as a hairy marshmallow. He was the only man your grandmother ever loved. It is ironic that they both went the same way, sudden heart attacks. At least neither one of them suffered. It for those of us living to suffer the loss now.

Your grandmother had a high school education and really was smart. She should have been able to go on to college and get a teacher’s degree. She was a wonderful teacher and did end up teaching classes at her church. She also worked as a teacher’s aide and got to teach some there too. She really loved working with children. She was always self conscious about not having gone further in school but she loved to read and went through all my mysteries. She also surprised me in the fact that she like Dean Koontz and Stephen King. I always thought those would be too gory for her. Your grandmother was full of surprises.

I know she talked to you when we were gone. Did she ever tell you how she met her husband? It was a funny story. She had been going with this guy and although they had decided to be just friends he still carried her picture. He showed it to my Dad one day and Dad asked for her address. They started writing and he went to see her for the first time on an Army leave. This was during the second world war. Your grandmother was working at the soda fountain at the drug store and was so nervous that when she met your grandfather she dropped the hot fudge sundae she was holding on his lap. They eloped when she was seventeen to St. Louis. They found a minister who was cleaning out a furnace and a couple of witnesses. Mom had never been to a big city before and stepped off a curb and sprained her ankle because she was “gawking” at the skyscrapers. Dad was her only love and when we buried him in May of 2009 we buried part of her heart with him. She has always missed him and that sorrow you felt around her sometimes were the times she was remembering him. She always talked about joining him and now she has.

So what now little Pixie? I’m asking myself the same thing. I moved out here six years ago at her request to help take care of her because her heart was going. It was a tough job believe you me because your grandmother was the most stubborn woman who ever lived. Somehow they forget to tell you that being a caretaker is the hardest job in the world. It is the emotional toll that will get to you. The day to day things aren’t that bad. She was never bed ridden although the last few months she was sick with sinus infections so much that she spent a lot of time in bed. You find that there are things that you can do that will make her happy. Remember how she would always show you the art work I did or the photographs that I had taken? She even replaced my art computer when it died with a state of the art machine that was built just for me. She knew how important my art was to me and she wanted to see the art I would be making.

So now little Pixie we have to try and go on living without her. I know I work all day and can’t hold you on demand for hours like you are use to but you will get cuddle time with me. You can sleep with me although with Merlin taking up half the bed it will be a tight squeeze. I didn’t expect him to be 17 ½ pounds or so cotton picking big. We go on and tell people that yes being a caretaker is the hardest and the most rewarding job in the world. She lived longer then we thought she would considering her heart but I think the last three years we can attribute to you. You brought her so much joy and love.

Creating Art on the Computer

2010-05-13T11:30:00.000-07:00

One of the major loves of my life has always been art. My second grade teacher on my report card put a note to my parents to “take a look at her art work!” For much of my life my favorite mediums were pen and ink and acrylic paints. My art styles went from the intricate etchings of the dahlia to the geometric abstracts of “The City in A Minor.” Life, however, has a way of interfering in the joys you experience. In my case the family curse of arthritis hit early in life. Finally I was forced to admit that it wasn’t going to be possible for me to hold the ink pens or brushes for the hours that it took to get the work to where I wanted it to be.

In the throes of a failing marriage my ex suggested I try the art on the computer. I was reluctant at this point because the programs were still in the primitive state. After five years of put downs my confidence ways at it lowest ebb but I was still curious to see if I could try this new medium. My first excursions were with the space theme of my beloved astronomy. I was in the San Francisco Bay Area at the time and my friend Colleen suggested I bring some examples of my art work to the Baycon science fiction convention. She forced me to go over to the head of the Artist’s Colony, professional artist and cartoonist, Dann Lopez. I was scared to death to have this professional look at my art but his first words gave me back my confidence. He told me “I want you in my next Artist’s Colony.” From that point on he became my mentor and being able to actually sell my art work gave me the thrill of a life time. Dann told the Artist Guest of Honor at his convention a couple of years later, Frank Lurz, that he wanted him to look at my art. Frank was really tired and told me to hurry and get the art. I ran to my room and snatched up my art portfolio and got back as quickly as I could. I don’t think I remembered to breath as I watched his face as he flipped through my work. I could see the fatigue leaving his face and he finally looked up and gave me a smile. He told me, “Your work is deceptively simple but as I look at it I can see the layers of depth in it. It is fantastic.” I was practically in tears when I told Dann who gave me big hug. He knew that one of my favorite artists would like my work.

I started out using Bryce 2.0, Painter 5.5, and Poser 3.0. Poser had my human and animal figures, Bryce was the workhorse that did all the backgrounds, and Painter was my special effects and touch up medium. I was able to get 3D mesh models of buildings and other decorations on line. I am currently still using the Painter 5.5 because the newer versions are out of my price range and a couple of the old special effects are missing from the newer model. My Bryce is up to the 6.1 and Poser is at 6.0. I find that I am not using Poser much at all since I discovered DAZ for the people and animals. DAZ also has the luxury of constantly updating and their main characters are free. I can now do children of all ages. There is a wealth of costumes and hair styles to go with the figures. The animals are getting more and more realistic and I can pose them in so many ways. Turbo Squid and 3Dvia are my main source for other models now. Some of them are free and some you pay for.

My first stop is usually DAZ if there are going to be people or animals in the picture. In the above updated picture the model is DAZ’s Victoria. I’ll pull Vicki into the grid. I’ll then put on one of the hair styles I want for her. In poses and materials I’ll choose the hair color or one of the variations in styles for the hair. I’ll then decide what she is going to wear and let me tell you this little lady is a clothes horse. I am constantly finding new styles and patterns for her clothes as my checkbook shows in the purchases to DAZ. I finally ended up just subscribing to DAZ for a monthly fee so that I could take advantage of the low prices for Premium members. The clothes pieces go on separately and like the hair I will go to the textures and materials and decide which color and patterns I want for her. One of the quirks of DAZ is that everything from hair to clothes has to be “linked” to the model in order for them to fit. Once the hair and clothes are on I will go to the poses and decide how the model will look. There are some set poses that I use as a starting point. You can go to the sidebar and adjust every part of the body to refine the poses. I also found that with the dresses you have to adjust them to fit to the poses. DAZ for some reason doesn’t think it is necessary for all the clothes to match the poses. I then save the finished work as a DAZ scene in case I want to rework the model later on. I then export the object as an OBJ model so that I can pull it into Bryce. The animal models are worked the same way. I have to admit that the Chinese Dragon is my current favorite and they have some great color schemes and poses for him.

The next place I go is Bryce. Bryce has really improved since that first version I used. I think the biggest improvement has been the different sky textures and the trees. The original trees were primitive at best. Now you can pick the style of tree, the leaves, the scale of the leaves, the number of leaves, the trunk and branch sizes, where the branches start and end and the number of segments you have for the branches. You can create a tree that looks very real. They also have Boolean objects that you can put together and create new shapes and buildings. The cool feature of this is that you can make one piece positive and the other negative and when you group them together the negative object will carve into the positive object. You also have terrains to create your land masses. These objects can be edited to smooth, rough up, carve, erode, etc. You can literally create the kind of land you want and apply different textures to it. You have a water plane and cloud plane available to use also. The skies are still the main problem in Bryce. The sun can be turned so that it can shine from up, down, left or right but it still can’t be moved from the back of the picture position. It is still stuck in the back. Fortunately you have the movable light sources that can be used to fill in the foreground features so that you can see the details. But the sky does have some fun aspects. You can change the color of the sun and clouds. You can alter the way the clouds look. You can add as many or few stars as you want. You can add the moon in the night time sky.

In the above two pictures you can see the changes that were made in both DAZ and Bryce. The one thing I love about computer art is that as things improve I can go back and change my pictures to take advantage of the changes. The lady has changed from the Poser model to the DAZ model. I had so many new hair styles and clothes to choose from on DAZ. I also had new models for cats and horses so I decided to incorporate them into my new picture. I discovered some tutorials on line from a British Bryce artist, Peter Sharpe, who showed me how to do the lakes and rivers. He also has tutorial of planets and rings, waterfalls, waves, craters, galactic backgrounds, etc. Peter, like many artists in the computer field, freely shares what he has learned and in the process has taught a lot of artists. I am very grateful to these artists for their willingness to teach.

On the original lake I had just used the oval and placed it on the ground with a water texture. In the new picture I used the technique of making the ground positive and doing a lattice that intersects the ground. You use the same texture on both but the lattice is made negative. The water plane is below the ground level but the negative lattice creates the “hole” that lets the water show through as a lake. By adjusting the size and shape of the lattice you can create a lake or a river.

The trick on the planet is the attribute box. I pull the planet way out so that it actually goes behind the cloud plane on the sky texture. That way the planet is behind the rainbow texture. I have used in other pictures the cloud plane that goes in front of a planet. The atmospheric textures can add some wonderful effects when I am doing pictures based on another planet or in my space pictures. The atmospherics can also be added to terrains that I put in the water to make waves.

One of the other techniques that Bryce has is making planes or objects either surface or volumetric. These show up most readily on my space pictures with the planets. The surface texture just goes outside of the object. Volumetric goes through the whole object and can be made fuzzy for gas planets. It will also make the water or clouds thicker or thinner depending on the tweaks you do to the levels.

A trick I use frequently is matching the x, y, z points together to get objects where I need them to be. For example in the above picture I needed light on Vickie’s face and I started the light source the same place she was and moved it until the light hit her face properly. I also used the attribute box to put the cat and Vickie on the boardwalk. I’ve used it to put objects in the models hand or flames in the dragon’s mouth.

It seems like daily that there are new products and models out there for the graphic artist. It has been a blessing for me that computer art work has come into existence at the time that arthritis took away my ability to do the type of art work that I had been doing since early childhood. I think my life would be very sad now if I didn’t have my art. Art has always been my solace in times of trouble. It is a joy for me to be able to create. For me art is made to be shared and I love the feedback from people who have looked at my art and loved it. I owe a great deal to my mentor Dann Lopez for taking someone who had lost her confidence and giving it back and allowing me to grow as an artist and a person. Thanks Dann. You can find my art on my website at http://artbymichelewilson.com/art.htm

Caring for Mother

2010-05-08T21:39:00.000-07:00

When we are children we take for granted that our mothers will take care of us. That is their job. That is what our expectations for them is all about. Mothers are supposed to be the caregivers. What we don’t realize is that when we grow up that those roles will be reversed. As part of the Baby Boomer generation I am now faced with the job of care giver for my Mom. It gives you a whole new perspective into what they faced as mothers.

My mother lives in the house that she and my Dad moved into many years ago after Dad retired. The house is full of reminders of Dad. There is a picture in the family room of the house before Dad enclosed the side porch. Dad had to totally rewire the house. He painted, wallpapered, and built turning this old house into the house of his dreams. I have promised my mother that this will be her last home.

Mother is going on 84. The heart attack last year was probably accompanied by a stroke. Her sense of balance is precarious at times and she has to be really careful coming up the stairs that she doesn’t fall. I have watched as the curvature of the spine gets worse and this woman who has always stood ramrod straight is becoming increasingly bent over. I listen as she tells the same thing numerous times. She doesn’t remember saying it before and I try to make sure that I don’t let her know that I have heard it all before. Her hearing is becoming increasing worse and at times I feel like I am shouting at her in order to be understood.

Mom is facing cataract surgery on June 1^st. She has clamps that were put in many years ago in the abdomen area that are coming loose. The doctor does not want her under general anesthesia because with her heart the chances are good that she won’t come out of it. I worry if I can’t get hold of her in the afternoon when I call.

If they ever put “the most stubborn person” as a Guinness World Book of Records category my mother will win it hands down. She was out on Friday cutting weeds and “volunteer” trees down. She waits until I’m at work before she does things like that because she knows I’ll try and stop her. With her bad heart she doesn’t need to do strenuous things like that.

When I was growing up no one told me about being a care giver. No one told me that at times you will be frustrated enough to scream. No one told me that at times you have to hide in your room and cry. Being a care giver is the most rewarding job in the world. Being a care giver is also the most painful job in the world. In my mind’s eye I see my mother the way she was as I was growing up. It is hard to see her now so frail and often so ill.

I never know what to give her now as gifts. She doesn’t really need anything. She doesn’t wear jewelry. She has all the clothes she needs. She uses the same bath and beauty products she always has so getting her something different is a waste of money. It will sit on the shelf unused. One of her main joys in life now is her cat, Pixie. Lately I find that I am doing art work for birthdays, Christmas or Mother’s Day. I just put black cat with a white spot on her chest in the picture. She had suggested I do a “teddy bear’s picnic” on my Farmville farm. So this Mother’s Day she is getting a picture in her card of a “teddy bear’s picnic” with the added addition of her cat and a squirrel because Pixie love watching the squirrels.

I doubt with her health that there will be too many more Mother’s Days. I try to do the best I can with an extremely stubborn woman. I’m beginning to think that mothers should come with an “owner’s manual”. It would make being a care giver easier if I knew what I was supposed to do. In the mean time I just do the best I can and love her while I have her. Happy Mothers Day.

The Moon's a Harsh Mistress

2010-04-25T15:13:00.001-07:00

After spending almost a month trying to get files moved to the correct place in DAZ I was finally able to sit down and work on some art today. I still have files I am trying to get recognized but I’m making progress. Today I decided though I was going to illustrate a song I love listening too off of my Celtic Women CD. It is called “The Moon’s a Harsh Mistress.”

See her how she flies

Golden sails across the sky

Close enough to touch

But careful if you try

Though she looks warm as gold

The moon’s a harsh mistress

The moon can be so cold.

Once the sun did shine

Lord, it felt so fine

The moon a phantom rose

Through the mountains and the pines

And then the darkness fell

And the moon’s a harsh mistress

It’s so hard to love her well.

I fell out of her eyes

I fell out of her heart

I fell down on my face

Yes, I did, and I – tripped and missed my star

God, I fell and I fell alone, I fell alone

And the moon’s a harsh mistress

And the sky is made of stone.

The moon’s a harsh mistress

She’s hard to call your own.

Easter Blessings

2010-04-04T08:36:00.001-07:00

Today is Easter and a special day for those who try and follow the teaching of Jesus Christ. It is a day of rebirth and thanksgiving. It is a day to count your blessings. I want to extend Easter blessings to those people who have touched my life and the lives of others.

My mother had me make Easter cards on the computer this year for everyone. I must have done close to 24 cards trying to find suitable graphics for each card. In the end Print Artist allowed me to do a different picture on the front of each card. Mother was thrilled and it took close to an entire color ink cartridge but she bought me the computer and it was the least I could do for her. She is a blessing in my life.

I am care giver for my Mom and to all care givers, like my brothers Reid and Jerry and sister-in-law Debi who cared for my late Aunt, blessings to you. Being a care giver is one of the most difficult and the most rewarding tasks in the world. To the friends who give me a shoulder to cry on both for real and on line I hope that all of your blessings are near you on this wonderful day. Life can be rough sometimes as a caregiver and it helps to have a support system. For all those who are mine thank you.

A special Easter blessings to Chaplain Steve who works at our local hospital. Money is tight and the hospital doesn’t pay his salary. We all contribute to the United Way to pay for his salary. He in turn is always there, always with a smile or a hug. He bought flowers to brighten up the hospital grounds. He does special services for Christmas and Easter for the staff. He suffered the loss of his Dad a couple of months ago and did so with dignity and grace. He is one of life’s beautiful people and he shares that beauty with all. I make sure I always do a special Easter picture and give it to him. He loves my art and encourages me to do more.

A special Easter blessing to my niece’s husband. Kevin married Bernadette and took on the responsibility of three children one of whom suffers from Asperger’s. He has done beautifully and has given my niece and the children a stable and a loving home which is something they never had with her first husband. He will be giving the children his name as he formally adopts them and for the first time in their lives they will have a father who is there for them, who loves them unconditionally, and who will not lie to them and who will give them the financial support they need and will never leave them homeless like their biological father did.

The President sent out a beautiful message addressing the religious celebrations this time of year. So Easter blessings to President Obama. He has the most difficult job in the world. He has responded with grace to attacks that are viscous and cruel. You can disagree with his politics but he is President of the United States and he should be treated with respect. Happy Easter to you Mr. President, Michelle, Malia, Sasha and of course Bo.

Happy Easter everyone and may all of Easter’s blessings be with you today.

Easter Dinner

2010-04-03T11:30:00.001-07:00

For many people Easter dinner is a tradition where the family gets together for a meal, a lot of times for the first time since Christmas. Since I love to cook I have put together a meal that I would do for this time of year including my recipe for the traditional “Hot Cross Buns.”

Ham with Pineapple Glaze

Recipe By :Michele Wilson

Serving Size : 16

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method

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8 pounds ham, rump half

8 ounces crushed pineapple in juice

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

1/4 cup sherry

1 cup brown sugar, packed

1 teaspoon ground cloves

Put ham in a large pan with a rack. Put meat thermometer into ham avoiding the bone.

Place in a 350°F oven for an hour.

While ham is baking put remaining ingredients into a saucepan. Heat until boiling. Reduce heat and cook until syrupy.

Remove ham from oven and score through the fat. Baste ham with pineapple sauce.

Put oven back into oven basting with glaze every ten minutes. Cook until ham reaches an internal temperature of 140°F.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 485 Calories; 30g Fat (56.4% calories from fat); 35g Protein; 16g Carbohydrate; trace Dietary Fiber; 124mg Cholesterol; 144mg Sodium. Exchanges: 0 Grain(Starch); 5 Lean Meat; 0 Fruit; 3 Fat; 1 Other Carbohydrates.

Mashed Potato Surprise

Recipe By :Michele Wilson

Serving Size : 4

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method

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4 large potatoes -- peeled and cubed

1/4 cup fat-free evaporated milk

1/4 cup fat-free sour cream

1 cup low-sodium cheddar cheese

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon white pepper

1/4 cup green onions -- finely minced

4 tablespoons butter

Put potatoes in a pan of boiling water to cover. Cook for 20 to 25 minutes or until fork tender. Drain.

Put potatoes in a large bowl and add rest of ingredients. Whip until light and fluffy.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 335 Calories; 21g Fat (55.1% calories from fat); 12g Protein; 26g Carbohydrate; 2g Dietary Fiber; 61mg Cholesterol; 693mg Sodium. Exchanges: 1 1/2 Grain(Starch); 1 Lean Meat; 0 Vegetable; 0 Non-Fat Milk; 3 1/2 Fat; 0 Other Carbohydrates

Gingered Vegetables

Recipe By :Michele Wilson

Serving Size : 4

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method

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8 ounces frozen mixed vegetables

1/4 cup water

1 clove garlic -- finely minced

1/2 small onion -- finely minced

1 teaspoon ginger root -- finely minced

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon low sodium soy sauce

Melt butter in a saucepan. Add onion, garlic and ginger. Cook until softened.

Add vegetables, water, and soy sauce. Cook four to six minutes or until vegetables are cooked. Don't overcook. They should still have a crunch to them.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 71 Calories; 3g Fat (37.7% calories from fat); 2g Protein; 10g Carbohydrate; 3g Dietary Fiber; 8mg Cholesterol; 207mg Sodium. Exchanges: 2 Vegetable; 1/2 Fat.

NOTES : This recipe works for any vegetable combination.

Hot Cross Buns

Recipe By :Michele Wilson

Serving Size : 24

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method

-------- ------------ --------------------------------

2 packages dry yeast

1/2 cup sugar

3/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

3 1/4 cups flour -- unbleached

1/2 cup milk

2 tablespoons water

1/2 cup butter

3 whole eggs

1/2 cup golden raisins -- *see note

1 whole egg yolk

1/2 cup sweet vermouth -- or sherry

1/2 cup dried fruit -- mixed, *see note

Frosting

1 cup powdered sugar

2 tablespoons milk, 2% lowfat

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 whole egg white

Soak the dried fruit and raisins in the sweet vermouth or sherry.

In large bowl, mix yeast, sugar, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and 1 cup of flour.

In saucepan, combine milk, water and butter. Heat to 105°F to 115°F, butter need not melt. Gradually add to dry ingredients. Beat at medium speed for 2 minutes.

Add 1/2 cup more flour, 3 eggs and 1 egg yolk, reserve egg white for the frosting. Beat at high speed for 2 minutes.

Stir in remaining flour. Drain the raisins and fruit and add to dough. Dough will be soft. Place dough in a clean, greased bowl. Tightly cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate overnight.

Next day, with floured hands, shape dough into 24 two inch balls. Arrange on greased baking sheets. Brush top with slightly beaten egg white. Let rise in warm place 30 minutes or until light.

Bake at 350°F for 15 to 20 minutes or until golden brown. Remove to wire racks.

Prepare frosting while buns bake. While buns are still warm, drizzle frosting across tops of buns in the form of a cross. Cool. Makes 24 buns.

Vanilla Frosting: Mix remaining egg white with powdered sugar and enough milk to make a fairly stiff frosting. Add 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla extract. Mix well.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 172 Calories; 5g Fat (26.9% calories from fat); 3g Protein; 27g Carbohydrate; 1g Dietary Fiber; 43mg Cholesterol; 120mg Sodium. Exchanges: 1 Grain(Starch); 0 Lean Meat; 1/2 Fruit; 0 Non-Fat Milk; 1 Fat; 1/2 Other Carbohydrates.

NOTES : Use a mixture of dried fruit. I like apricots, apples and cherries. You can also used candied fruit that is used in fruitcake or use 1 cup currants or raisins.

And of course for dessert:

Carrot Cake

Recipe By :Michele Wilson

Serving Size : 16

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method

-------- ------------ --------------------------------

1 3/4 cups sugar

1 1/2 cups vegetable oil

3 eggs

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

2 cups carrots -- shredded

1 cup walnuts -- chopped fine

1/2 cup coconut flakes

1/2 cup golden raisins

1/4 cup sherry

8 ounces crushed pineapple in juice -- drained

16 ounces lowfat cream cheese -- softened

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 1/4 cups powdered sugar

Baker's Joy Spray -- *see Note

Heat oven to 350°F.

Soak raisins in sherry.

Mix sugar, oil and eggs in a large bowl until light and fluffy.

Sift in cinnamon, baking soda, nutmeg, salt and flour into egg mixture. Beat unto well incorporated.

Add vanilla extract and mix in thoroughly.

Drain raisins add to cake mixture along with carrots, walnuts and shredded coconut. Mix well.

Spray a 19 inch bundt pan with oil. Spread cake mixture evenly in pan. Bake in 350°F oven for one hour or until tester inserted near middle comes out clean.

Cool on a cake rack. Spread icing on cooled cake.

To make icing beat cream cheese and vanilla in bowl until smooth and creamy. Gradually add sifted powdered sugar until smooth and spreading consistency.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 534 Calories; 32g Fat (52.7% calories from fat); 8g Protein; 56g Carbohydrate; 2g Dietary Fiber; 51mg Cholesterol; 512mg Sodium. Exchanges: 1 Grain(Starch); 1 Lean Meat; 1/2 Vegetable; 1/2 Fruit; 6 Fat; 2 Other Carbohydrates.

NOTES : It is a combination of vegetable spray with flour in it.

Dreams

2010-03-29T12:07:00.001-07:00

“To sleep! Perhaps to dream.” Hamlet

Like many people I have been fascinated by dreams. Dreams have been analyzed, psychoanalyzed, studied, dissected, interpreted, symbolized, mythed, demythed, etc. since the first caveman turned to his mate and said “I had the strangest dream last night.” For the Australian aboriginal people the Dreamtime is part of their sacred beliefs. It was as a child living in New Mexico that I first saw a dream catcher among the craft works of the Navaho people. To this day I have a dream catcher by my bed. I believe that my fascination of dreams comes from that time in New Mexico where I was a young child. I know my mother and brothers found the weekend trips to the ruins from Native American civilizations boring but for Dad and I the history that we felt from being at a place where history existed was very palatable and real. I will never forget the awe I felt when we experienced the Anasazi cliff dwellings.

I have read the works of Jung. I have read Dr. Ann Faraday’s books on dreams. I have read about Native American beliefs and the beliefs of people from around the world. But in the end it always comes down to a personal realization that dreams are a unique part of us as individuals. I have lately been going through a period of intense dreaming. I notice that when I am ill and running a fever that dreams come more frequently and often times I wake up thinking that I really need a new script writer because my dreams make no sense. Familiar people run through my dreams in unfamiliar circumstances. In my dreams my Dad is often still alive.

I didn’t go to work today because I was running a fever and my throat is raw. I went back to bed and as I have for the last several nights started to dream. In the dream I was angry at a phone service to a new home where the technicians were totally indifferent to the fact that we needed the service set up. They didn’t care that I had a mother with a bad heart and I needed to be able to get help for her. In the dream I did something I would never do in real life I assaulted the technician and forced him to schedule the service we needed. As I was trying to get him to cooperate ambulance workers were taking my Mom out of the house because she had another attack. I woke from the dream highly disturbed.

It is easy to see that I am worried about my Mom. Even in my dreams I try to take care of her. The unaccustomed violence bothered me until I realized that in the real world I have been “fighting” for health care ever since the election. It is something that I passionately believe in. I think it is significant that we “fight” for our beliefs. While we may not resort to the violence that the word implies we “battle” for our beliefs and trying to get things done in a legal manner still takes a physical toll from us. I feel as drained by the constant attempts to push my representatives, to write and try and persuade other for the cause, the constant trying to convince the people I deal with on a day to day basis, as I would if I had entered the ring in a boxing contest.

If you don’t deal with the day to day stress the mind will find a way to force you to do so often in dreams. There are still battles ahead. This health care reform isn’t the final and complete answer. We still are looking at financial reform, immigration, DADT in the military, the environment, wars and conflicts in the world. We still have much left to do. I have so much I still want to accomplish. My main task is always as care giver to my Mom. I gave her a copy of my Easter picture and raved how fast the new machine she bought for me rendered the picture. A picture that size normally would take a couple of hours and it was done in seven minutes. The joy in her face over the sweet picture made me happy.

So as I continue to work in the political “battles” ahead I will try and remain as optimistic as I can. I will continue to share my art and photos with others because as I see in my Mom’s face when I share with her the art and photos can brighten the lives of others. I try to be encouraging in my writings because people need to know that what they do matter and the fight may be hard but we can win in we don’t give up.

I will listen the dreams when they are trying to tell me something and enjoy the ones that seem to be movies that entertain. And if my mind wants to continue to put David Tennant or John Barrowman in them either in “real” life or playing The Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness from “Doctor Who” I won’t mind one little bit.

Tiffany Gardens and Birthdays

2010-03-27T09:50:00.001-07:00

Today is my birthday. Most of the celebrating will be done curled up asleep next to the cats while I try and fight off this cold. My head is pounding, the sinuses are dripping, I ache all over, my throat is raw. Still it will be a nice day. I already heard from an old friend and we chatted for over a half hour. He built my work horse computer years ago and it is still running strong. I heard from one brother and will probably hear from the other two out California and Texas way.

In spite of feeling like death warmed over I realize that I have a lot going for me today. For starters a tornado isn’t hitting the other side of town like it did the day I was born. I can still get around and take Spring pictures. I can still do my art work. I just spent a couple of hours trying to round up all the pieces of the art programs and put them in the same place so I can do art work. This weekend is devoted to new pictures.

My Mom is still sleeping as her sinuses are acting up from being out in the wind yesterday. She is frail but I have her for another birthday for which I am truly thankful. We had a horrible storm the other night but today is bright blue skies and fairly warm temperatures and that makes me happy. I have an art commission from my niece for her youngest child’s birthday next month. Working on my art always makes me happy.

It is a day to be in touch with good friends. A day to play on my computer. A day to ignore my cold and have a happy birthday. It is a day to look at some of the things that make me happy. I have my family. I have friends. I have good books to read. I have some of my favorite movies and television shows on DVD to watch. I have my artwork to work on. I am thankful that many of the people we see at the hospital will be covered b the new health care program. I have always felt bad that we had so many really sick people coming in and they have no way to pay for the health care they need to get well. Maybe now they will have a chance. Maybe now the new insurance company we negotiated with last week will pay for my mother’s continued care. Her other insurance took money each month but never seemed to pay anything.

So today I feel like my “Tiffany Garden” picture. It is full of Spring and color but at the same time all the textures are glass. Beautiful and fragile that is how life is today

May You Dance

2010-03-17T04:31:00.000-07:00

Being half Irish I have always loved St. Patrick’s Day. I love the stories and oral traditions of the Celtic people. I grew up on fairy tales. I love Irish music and dance. My brother got me an early birthday present of a Celtic Women CD with one of my favorite songs “Fields of Gold” on it and an incredible version of “Amazing Grace.” My Walkman has Clannad, Celtic Women, Seamus Kennedy, Loreena McKennitt, Alex Beaton, the Irish Rovers, The Chieftains and U2 on it. So Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone. Here are some Irish pearls of wisdom and some of humor for you. My picture illustrates one of my favorite Irish sayings. So on this festive day “May You Dance.”

May those who love us, love us
And those who don’t,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles so we’ll know
Them by their limping.

The secret of the Irish is to live a long time without growing old.

The day God created the Irish
He didn’t do another thing except sit down and smile.

May you be in Heaven a half hour before the devil knows you’re dead.

May you live to be a hundred years,
With one extra year to repent.

May God bring good health to your enemies’ enemies.

May your blessings be many,
Your troubles be few.
May the love in your hearts
Forever be true.

May your mornings bring joy.
And your evenings bring peace.
May your troubles grow few.
And your blessings increase.

May your home always be too small
To hold all of your friends.

Dance as if no one were watching.
Sing as if no one were listening.
Live each day as if it’s your last.

Bless us with good food,
The gift of gab.
And hearty laughter.
May the love and joy
We share
Be with us
Ever after.

May your troubles be less
And your blessings be more.
And nothing but happiness
Comes through your door.

May the road rise to meet you;
May the wind be always at your back;
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
The rains fall softly upon your fields;
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

May you live as long as you want;
and not want as long as you live.

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill
All the way to your door.

May the best day of your past
Be the worst day of your future.

May your neighbors respect you,
Troubles neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.

Emeralds and Rubies

2010-03-14T09:40:00.000-07:00

Patience is a virtue and I am one of those “God grant me patience and I want it now” people. It has been a hard couple of months with the computer problems and not being able to do art work or get on the internet regularly to talk to friends. Thanks to my mother’s big heart I can now do that. For all the physical damage there is in her heart the spiritual and loving part is as big as ever. She had insisted that since she bought my brother three computers over the years she was buying me one. She didn’t care that the total package was just over $1,000.00. All she cared about was the fact that her daughter couldn’t afford to get a new one and she wanted me to be able to do my art work and play on the computer as it is my stress buster. There is no price tag on love.

I brought “Ruby” home on Friday and she is a beauty. She has a ruby red, black, and silver case with a glass door that let’s you see what is going on inside. For the geeks like me she has a Logisys CS308RD-10 Bay ATX mid tower, Intel Core 2 Duo ET600 3.06 GHz, 2 2G-Kingston Value RAM KVR800D2Ng/2G chips, a Western Digital Caviar Green Tera drive, a Hitachi/LG LG22L240 22x DVD+RW, Microsoft Windows 7 Premium Edition (we are running it at 32 bit because of older programs but I can do 64 bit if I wish), a MSI GeForce 9500 GTT 512 MB GDDR3 graphics accelerator, and an Intel Desktop Board DG43GtiG43. Or in others words for the non-geeks this is what the tech called one “kickass machine.”

It is a dream machine. It is going to take some more work getting all the programs back on so I can continue to do my art work but after playing all weekend I am in awe of the ease and beauty of this computer. Most of all I am so terribly grateful to my Mom for insisting that I have our tech make me the machine I needed to do my art. Her eyes lit up when she came up to see the machine. For her the idea that one of her children was happy was all that mattered. And I am so very happy.

This machine gives me the ability to give back also. I can continue to do my art work and share my recipes and thoughts. I can continue to talk and share with friends. I have missed being able to do that on a regular basis these last two months. So with St. Patrick’s Day coming up I thought I’d share some of the Irish themed recipes I have come up with over the years. One is for Irish-American Shepherd’s Pie and the other three went together as a meal one year. And of course I want to share some of my Irish themed art work. This one is called “Irish Sea.”

Irish American Shepherd's Pie

Recipe By :Michele Wilson
Serving Size : 8

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method
-------- ------------ --------------------------------
1 1/4 pounds ground beef, extra lean
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 ounces baby carrots -- diced
8 ounces mushrooms -- sliced
1 cup celery -- diced
1 cup frozen green peas
1 cup frozen corn
1 small onion -- diced
2 cloves garlic -- minced
1 tablespoon dijon mustard
1 tablespoon worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup red wine -- or beef broth
1/2 teaspoon seasoned salt
1/4 teaspoon seasoned pepper
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 1/2 pounds potatoes -- peeled and cubed
1/2 cup low-fat sour cream
1 cup low sodium cheddar cheese -- shredded
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper

Add potatoes to boiling water. Cook 15 minutes or until tender. Drain. In a separate pan cook carrots in boiling water. Drain.

Mash potatoes with sour cream, cheddar cheese, salt and white pepper.

Add olive oil to large frying pan and heat. Cook beef, onions, mushrooms and garlic until no pink remains in beef and vegetables are softened.

Add carrots, peas, celery and corn. Cook until vegetables are softened.

Mix cornstarch and wine. Add to beef and vegetables. Add dijon mustard, seasoned salt, seasoned pepper and allspice. Mix well and cooked until gravy has thickened.

Put meat and vegetable mixture in a 2 quart casserole. Cover with mashed potatoes.

Bake uncovered at 325°F for 35 to 40 minutes.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 387 Calories; 20g Fat (46.1% calories from fat); 22g Protein; 30g Carbohydrate; 4g Dietary Fiber; 66mg Cholesterol; 377mg Sodium. Exchanges: 1 1/2 Grain(Starch); 2 1/2 Lean Meat; 1 Vegetable; 2 1/2 Fat; 0 Other Carbohydrates.

Corned Beef With Orange-Honey Glaze

Recipe By :Michele Wilson
Serving Size : 6

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method
-------- ------------ --------------------------------
3 pounds corned beef brisket -- lean
1/2 cup honey
1/4 cup orange juice
4 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
2 whole bay leaves
1 teaspoon peppercorns
1 medium onion
30 whole cloves
1 teaspoon mustard seed

Stud the onion with cloves.

In a large pot place corned beef brisket, onion, bay leaves, mustard seeds and peppercorns. Cover with water. Bring to a boil. Reduce to simmer and cook around 2 1/2 hours or until tender

Heat oven to 350°F.

In a bowl combine honey, Dijon mustard, orange juice and ground cloves.

Put meat in an oven proof dish and spread with honey mixture. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until glaze is just brown and crisp. Halfway through brush meat with glaze.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 662 Calories; 41g Fat (52.2% calories from fat); 36g Protein; 48g Carbohydrate; 12g Dietary Fiber; 121mg Cholesterol; 482mg Sodium. Exchanges: 1 1/2 Grain(Starch); 4 Lean Meat; 1/2 Vegetable; 0 Fruit; 5 Fat; 1 1/2 Other Carbohydrates.

Serving Ideas : Sour cream potatoes and glazed beets. Irish Soda Bread.

NOTES : Twice cooked corn beef comes out very tender.

Sour Cream Potatoes

Recipe By :Michele Wilson
Serving Size : 6

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method
-------- ------------ --------------------------------
1 1/2 pounds potatoes -- golden, cubed
1 medium shallot -- minced
1 cup sour cream, light
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper
1 tablespoon butter

Put potatoes in boiling water to cover. Boil for 15 to 20 minutes or until tender. Drain.

Melt butter in small sauce pan. Add minced shallots and cook until tender. Add sour cream, salt and pepper. Mix until heated through but not boiling.

Toss potatoes with sour cream sauce.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 122 Calories; 3g Fat (19.8% calories from fat); 3g Protein; 22g Carbohydrate; 2g Dietary Fiber; 8mg Cholesterol; 214mg Sodium. Exchanges: 1 1/2 Grain(Starch); 0 Lean Meat; 0 Vegetable; 1/2 Fat; 0 Other Carbohydrates.

Beets in Orange Ginger Sauce

Recipe By :Michele Wilson
Serving Size : 6 Preparation Time :0:05
Categories : Vegetables

Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method
-------- ------------ --------------------------------
30 ounces beets, low sodium -- drained
1/4 cup orange juice
1/4 cup honey
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon ginger root -- minced

Mix orange juice, honey, ginger and balsamic vinegar. Put beets in sauce pan. Add sauce. Cook until beets are heated through and glazed.

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 89 Calories; trace Fat (1.1% calories from fat); 1g Protein; 23g Carbohydrate; 2g Dietary Fiber; 0mg Cholesterol; 66mg Sodium. Exchanges: 2 Vegetable; 0 Fruit; 1 Other Carbohydrates.

Games People Play

2010-02-23T03:54:00.000-08:00

Late last week I was talking with my manager and she asked me to take a new, important position in the Business Office. I am to be head of the Denial Management team which currently consists of me reporting to her. What makes this so important is that we are going to try and discover the reasons why claims fail to get paid the first time around. As a small hospital we are hurting financially like many of the small hospitals around the country. The insurance companies are using every trick in the book and inventing new ones to keep from paying claims. If we can identify some of the problems we can correct the errors before they happen and hopefully our financial situation will improve.

I started this job last Friday and although I am back up Cash Poster I am really excited about the prospect of being able to help in this way. I almost feel like the Sherlock Holmes of our hospital now. This new promotion has been treated with hostility from some of my coworkers. Their are some people in that office whose feel it is their mission in life to cause as many problems for the other people as possible. They will run to the manager and try and get coworkers in trouble pointing out the least little error as a reason why this person should not be working there. I have been their target for years now.

I have always refused to play this game. I believe that the office needs to work together as a team. It doesn’t matter who created the error it needs to be fixed and I will quietly fix errors I find. The only time I will go to my manager is if I don’t know how to fix the error and need her guidance. I firmly believe this is the reason I am now in the position I have been promoted to. My manager hates this game playing and she wanted someone who was willing to put in the hard work and more importantly will work with her to try and find answers. The people who are glaring at me now realize that with this position I will be able to identify errors that they have made. They know that I won’t use this position for revenge but I will do my job right. It is my responsibility to identify errors and as my manager said it doesn’t really matter who made the error what matters is trying to get them fixed and be proactive in preventing them in the future.

I don’t like playing games with people’s lives. It is one of the reasons I have been a political activist since High School. I have a dislike of politics for politics sake. When I vote for someone I expect them to act in the interests of the people. I think too many politicians find that naïve. What they fail to realize is that I and other voters can just as easily vote against them next time. I am especially disgusted with Congress and their failure to act on the many problems facing this country.

For me life means helping people, animals and our planet. I have always had cats in my life and try to rescue pound cats when I can. My Merlin is a pound cat rescue. I sometimes wonder if one of the reasons he is such a mama’s boy and will whine if I’m not near him is because he recognizes that in this house that Pixie is the favorite. I have to admit that Pixie is very loving and will go to everybody while Merlin wants only to be near me. I think he recognizes that with me he will always have unconditional love. He isn’t mistreated by mother and brother he just realizes that they love Pixie more. That she is “their” cat.

I don’t make a lot of money and my new position won’t pay any more since wages are frozen where I work but I try and send money to help in feeding and taking care of the poor here and around the world and to people who help rescue animals and try and protect the environment.

I like playing games that are actually games. I am a huge fan of Farmville and loved my Mom’s reaction when I showed her my farm. She took one look at my green,alien cow that gives “milktonium” and decided she would rather get her milk at Aldis. I don’t, however, play games when it comes to people’s lives. I am shrugging off the hostility from some of the people at work. I don’t have time in my life for the games they play. I don’t have time for the jealousy. Life is too short and I have too much that I want to accomplish. I have too many people whom I care about. I have too much art that I want to create. There are too many things to photograph. Their are too many friends to communicate with. We have a planet to save. Why waste time playing games that aren’t any fun? The picture is called “Jealousy” and was my way of de-stressing after a particularly bad day at work. I think creating is more fun then destroying.

A Gentle Soul

2010-02-20T07:45:00.000-08:00

My father’s oldest sister passed away on Thursday. She was a product of a different time and age. A time we nostalgically think of as a kinder and more gentler age. She was certainly a gentle soul. I spent the morning looking at her photo albums that I am trying to see how I can scan in without damaging the old photos. It was an age where her grandparents depended on horses and buggies to get around. There are pictures of her Dad in the new fangled automobiles, a passion of his and of his only surviving son, my Dad. There were pictures of their Mom playing the French Horn in a circus band. There were pictures of her always dressed like a lady. One of my favorite pictures was of her and two friends in bathing suits showing an Aunt Beth with a beautiful hour glass figure.

In her last couple of years Aunt Beth developed dementia and my brothers Reid and Jerry and his wife Debi became the care givers handling all of her financial affairs and giving her the love and support she needed to get by. She had a couple of hospitalizations but in spite of her wandering mind she was in good health. The heart attack that took her was very swift and she didn’t suffer.

Beth in pictures was almost always the one on the end. She wasn’t as adventurous as her sister Hazel. She wasn’t as complex as her only surviving brother, Jack. She wasn’t as loud and pushy as her sister Marian. Beth was always the quiet, solid, dependable Beth. She had a hearing problem she didn’t acknowledge and spoke louder to compensate and sometime she wasn’t in the same conversation as the rest of us.

Beth loved San Francisco and she and her sisters had several homes there over the years and in the end they moved to the suburbs but still close enough to BART that they could travel to the City. Beth had her church group there and they were her friends throughout life. They often went on vacation together. Beth liked the guided tours and cruises with her friends. You wouldn’t find her on top of a camel like Hazel. She wasn’t one to camp out all over the United States. Vacations were places where you went in comfort with friends you have known for a long time. It was a place to be comfortable where guides would let you know what you were seeing and back home the pictures went into neatly labeled albums.

When I think of Beth I think of her and her lost love. She was engaged at the beginning of World War II to a man named Julius. He died in a Japanese prisoner of war camp. I remember a few years ago when I was still living in California her quietly talking about finding a book where his name was mentioned in the appendix as one of the soldiers who died. In her life he was her only love and she wore his ring for decades after his death.

Beth was a quiet, sweet, loving person and her main things in life were her family and her church. She was a life long Catholic and continued to go to church until the end. She doted on her nieces and nephews and their families. She had pictures of her family prominently displayed and lovingly showed visitors the latest additions and pictures of her family.

I don’t think there was a mean bone in Beth’s body. I never heard her bad mouth anyone. She was the true essence of a lady. She was the one who made my mother feel welcome when my Dad married her. She was the one who loved having holidays and family get-togethers at her place.
One of my cousins remarked when he heard about Beth’s dementia, “Well Beth never was the brightest crayon in the box.” Aunt Beth never pretended to be more then what she was. She was always true to herself. She may not have been the “brightest” crayon in the box but she was one of the most beautiful.

Tigers and Hearts

2010-02-14T07:30:00.000-08:00

Today we not only celebrate Valentine’s Day but it is also Chinese New Years and we are into the Year of the Tiger. I hope you have a romantic Valentine’s Day with the ones you love and have a great celebration for Chinese New Years.

Changing Art and Life

2010-02-13T07:55:00.000-08:00

Nothing stays the same. Life is always changing sometimes for the better sometimes for the worse. You can accept change or you can rail against it for all the good that will do. While being forced to wait for my art computer to be fixed right I decided to do a review of the art work I currently have. Changes will be coming there.

When I could no longer do the pen and ink etchings I use to do because the arthritis was making it impossible to hold the pen for the length of time to do one of those etchings I was really sad. Art has always been a part of my life. I have expanded definition of art to include sewing, crocheting, knitting, stitchery and even cooking. Anything where you can take raw ingredients and turn them into something new and exciting is art as far as I’m concerned. My niece’s wedding dress is a work of art. I took a long piece of material and several types of trim and it became a Princess Bride dress.

I have all of my art work on the old computer because I have a Professional grade printer attached here and I can print and sell the art from this computer. Since I switched to graphic art work done on computer I have the luxury now of going back and making changes. This is a good thing as far as I’m concerned because it not only allows me to make changes it in a way forces me to look at what I’ve done in light of new models and new technology and I have to answer the question of if I’m really satisfied with what I’ve done in the past. In many cases I am but in just as many more I can honestly say I would like the art to be different. It can be made better.

A case in point is my picture “The Queen”. The original was done early in my graphic art career over ten years ago. In the time since then the models have improved dramatically as my checkbook shows with the purchases from DAZ. I was able to redo this picture before my other computer gave up the ghost. The spirit is still there but it is stuck in an endless loop of Windows XP. It is one of the pictures that I use to illustrate my fantasy short story series called “Sean’s Stories” found on my website at http://artbymichelewilson.com/stories.htm. Queen Niri is the High Queen of the Elves in her realm and she needed to be beautiful. While fully realizing that I did the best I could when I did the original I wanted more of the picture and with work it is now more what I wanted.

Does the change in a picture mean that I am no longer happy with my art? No it means I am willing to change what I have for the better because I now can. I did the best I could at the time but if I want to continue to call myself an artist I need to be able to grow. It is that way if life too. I want to continue to grow as a person. I need to be able to adapt and change. I need to learn more patience for example.

So as I wait for our tech at work to fix the computer system there that has been infected by a malicious virus so he can find time to come over and fix my home computer I go through my art work here and decide what changes I want to make. I am learning patience because I can’t make the changes until the art computer is fixed. And of course I always have the old standby of putting “Doctor Who” DVDs in this weekend to relax. Some things change but a Whovian is a Whovian forever.