Funeral for a Cousin

Yesterday, I attended the funeral of my Daddy's cousin Herman. Called "Little Herman", being a junior, he stood well over 6 feet tall. 


The funeral was very well done. Longtime, loyal store employees shared rememberances of Herman from the pulpit. Songs were sung and prayers were offered. 


After the service, my stepmom and I decided not to try to make the graveside service due to the heat and the long walk that faced us when we got to the cemetery. When I got home, my sister Tammy called and said that Herman's funeral procession did not go to the city cemetery. Instead it had gone across town in the opposite direction. 


I was baffled. I thought there was room in the Tillman lot for Herman. I could not figure out where another cemetery might be in the tiny town of Hazlehurst, MS. My sister promised to find out and let me know. 


This afternoon, I got another call. Herman had, indeed, been buried in the Tillman lot in the Hazlehurst city cemetery. But, first, the procession took him past Tillman furniture, the flagship of his 5 stores, one last time. 


I know that Herman would have approved. And that he and Daddy had a ringside seat watching from Heaven. 

Another "First"

Tomorrow Easter will mark yet another "first" without Daddy. I have made it through Christmas, New Years, and his birthday. For some reason, this one seems hardest so far. No Easter get together is planned. I am not making a coconut cake in the shape of a bunny, I did not go in search of those awful individually wrapped eggs. The ones that are white inside with hard pastel coating on the outside. Daddy liked those and Circus Peanuts. I never really could figure out why. I find them both at the very bottom of the candy food chain myself.


Tomorrow, I will attend his little church, Yokena Presbyterian, with my sweet stepmom. It will be strange sitting in a pew without him beside me. Strange not having him make sure I have a bulletin and a hymnal. Strange not hearing his voice banter back and forth with his friends before the service begins. 


I know it will get easier with time. But first, I have to make it through another "first" without him. 


And that is not easy. 

Via Dolorosa

Friday, Lord willing, I will sing the Via Dolorosa at Christ Episcopal Church Vicksburg for the 23rd straight year. This is something I look forward to every year. This year, I have a touch of bronchitis that is threatening the quality of my performance. I am hoping to be able to sing this one song, even if I don't sing again for weeks.

A couple of years ago, I scoured the internet for public domain images of Christ carrying His cross down the "Way of Sorrows" and made this video to accompany a recording of the "Via Dolorosa" done in Nashville a few years back.

Walk the "Via Dolorosa" with Christ this Good Friday.

Joyful

This morning I went to Truly Ministries "Dream Center" to sing the "Via Dolorosa." I can't begin to describe what a joyful experience this was for me. It was as if the song just poured out of me, with an effortlessness that I have not felt in a long time.

I have been feeling the tug of spreading my wings and going to visit other churches and witness through music for a couple of years now. But I never truly felt free to do so until now. I think the joy I felt this morning was a sign that I am on the right path.

So, I am stepping out to see just where it leads me.

Joyfully!

First Birthday

My Daddy desperately wanted to make his 80th birthday. When asked his age, he would say "I'll be 80 in March (the 28th to be exact) instead of 79." I have to admit that I don't like those newspaper ad things that wish deceased people a "Happy Birthday." With the passing of the Earthly body, there are no more Earthly birthdays. I hope that Daddy is rejoicing in Heaven every day now. 


This is not to say that these days surrounding Daddy's birthday are not hard. I won't be baking a coconut cake with seven minute icing. I won't be trying to find a card that will make him smile. Most difficult of all is that I won't be calling him to sing his own version of Happy Birthday (aka Happy Birf Birf) to you. 

The Dads wishing each other a Happy Birthday last year

But there will be an Earthly celebration for my Father-in-Law tomorrow. He shared my Daddy's birthday and will turn 83 tomorrow. Mr. Sanders has treated me like I was "his" since I married his son 28 years ago. The work of cooking on his birthday meal has helped distract me a bit from dwelling on my Daddy and how much I miss him. 


At least a little. 

The End

Today marks the end of a tradition for me. I will not be singing the Via Dolorosa at my church. I have been singing this for at least 23 years.

Due to many factors, I have not been able to be in choir much this year. I chose not to do the cantata this year, due to it being the same week as Daddy's birthday, family coming to visit, health issues, and still being mired in settling Daddy's estate.

So, I was not asked to sing the Via Dolorosa this year.

And it makes me sad.

Daddy's Cookies

For the first time since last Fall, I am baking oatmeal cookies. These are not just any oatmeal cookies. These were my Daddy's special oatmeal cookies. 


My Daddy used to talk about the oatmeal cookies his mama used to make. Of course, like most cooks of her time, she seldom wrote down recipes, so after she died there was no way of knowing exactly what quantities of what went into her oatmeal cookies. 


Over the years my mom tried to recreate these cookies for him, but they were always "too sweet", "not the right texture", etc. Competing with a memory was tough! 


After mom died, I continued to try oatmeal cookie recipes over the years to see if I could somehow recreate the magic for my Daddy. Finally, I stumbled upon this recipe and refined it to Daddy's specifications. I made a batch and took them to him. He took a bite and I could see by the look on his face that these were the cookies he had been waiting for. 


So, I am making a batch of Daddy's favorite cookies today, and remembering his smiles. 

Birthday Boy

Saturday, I drove to Baton Rouge for a very special occasion. My cousin Audrey's husband, Pete, was having a birthday party to celebrate the big 8-0. 


When I got to his daughter's house where the party was being held, I was amazed at all the cars parked on the street. I finally found a place to park about 2 blocks away, grabbed my trusty red walker and began trekking to the house. I think half of Baton Rouge was invited to "party with Pete."


I got to hug and visit with a bunch of cousins. I had my picture taken with the birthday boy. Entertainment provided by his children and grandchildren in the form of Hee Haw songs, etc, prepared just for this occasion. And no gathering would be complete without coconut cake. 


After my Daddy's cancer came back, he would always answer that he "would be 80 in March", instead of saying that he was 79. Daddy really wanted to make 80. And I was looking forward to celebrating with him. Daddy's birthday party is being held in Heaven this year. 


But, thanks to getting to celebrate #80 with Pete, not getting to celebrate with Daddy stings a little less. 

"Airport"

Last night, as I was late night channel surfing, I came upon this movie in the middle of one of my favorite scenes. Helen Hayes, the stowaway, was explaining to airport management just how she had been able to "fly free" for years. A few tricks, plus her "sweet old lady" looks had allowed her to travel pretty much wherever and whenever she wanted. Helen Hayes was absolutely masterful in this part. 


And, of course, I could not help but make comparisons to the "old" days of flying vs. the way it is now, post 911. 


Back when I first saw "Airport" at the Joy Theater in Vicksburg, Mississippi, we had just put my dad on a plane to Atlanta. The whole family had been able to go the gate to wait with him and hug him goodbye before he boarded. The toilets cost 10 cents apiece to use. Even the escalator was an exotic treat to ride. People dressed up to fly. Men were in ties and women in neat pantsuits or dresses. 


I had forgotten just how sexy Dean Martin was in a "straight" dramatic role. How cute a young Gary Collins was. How beautiful Jaqueline Bissett (curvacious, not one of these modern, emaciated stars) was in her heyday. 


And it made me long for those days before body scanners, pat downs, luggage searches, and constant suspicion made flying more of a chore to be dreaded than the adventure it once was. 

My Mailman

It is the end of an era on Porter's Chapel Road. Our wonderful mailman, Donnie, has retired after many years of service. The envy of many of our friends, we often received our mail by noon.

When Donnie would deliver packages to our door, he knew to give me a little extra time to get there. One time, when I was expecting several packages and I had the flu, he would tell me to "feel better" when I opened the door to accept my delivery.

At Christmas, I would leave candy in my mailbox for him. If I happened to catch him while he was getting it, I would be rewarded with a nod and a big smile.

I have not yet met our new postman. He does not bring our mail until mid to late afternoon. That is usually when I am napping. I am sure he will be fine and I will get used to him.

But I still miss Donnie.

RIP Robert Sherman

I was saddened today to hear of the death of Robert Sherman, one of the composers (together with brother, Richard) of much of the music of my childhood. Together, they scored "Mary Poppins", "Chitty, Chitty Bang Bang", "The Aristocats", and "Jungle Book" just to name a few of my favorites. 


I can't even begin to imagine a world without 
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" or "Feed the Birds."  "The Bare Necessities" and "Winnie the Pooh" are two tunes I still hum to this day. And although I was a bit older when this came out, "The Slipper and the Rose" remains one of my favorite versions of the Cinderella story. "Rainbows raced around the room when he danced with me..." What a wonderful way with words!


Rest in peace Mr. Sherman. Your legacy is safe in the hearts of my generation and generations to come. 

The Crash

Today is the 34th anniversary of the "bus crash." I


I was attending Hinds Junior College at the time and we boarded a bus very early on a Saturday morning to attend a junior college choral festival at Jones County Junior College. 


Little did we know that the driver of the bus we boarded had been up late shuttling a sports team from a game and had gotten little sleep. We were just outside Laurel, MS, when the bus jerked.  Sitting two seats behind the driver, I looked up to see that he had nodded off. Our choir director reached up and tried to take the wheel, but the driver jerked awake, overcorrected, and sent us over an embankment. 


Miraculously, all survived. Several of us had fractured backs (me included) and there was girl with severe facial lacerations. Others had various bumps, fractures, and bruises, but we were alive. 


I have been in varying degrees of pain since then. And I have never been quite the same. I am the most nervous passenger on the planet. I never quite regained the strength in my arms that I once had. I still don't really like to ride in buses. 


As I walked up to take communion this morning in church, I thought about the "might have beens". And I was thankful once again. 

Mickey's Girl

Like many girls of my generation, I was a Monkees fan. I was only 7 when "The Monkees" began, but I thought they were the coolest thing on legs. I watched the show on Saturday mornings, had all the albums, and swooned over...


Mickey.


Don't get me wrong. I liked them all. And I thought that Davy was quite adorable. But, Mickey was the one who melted my butter. That curly dark hair and that devilish twinkle in his brown eyes made my little girl heart skip a beat.

Rest in peace, Davy. You will be missed.

But, for the time being, I still have Mickey.

Facebook

Almost every day I see people post (yes, on facebook!) about what a time waster it is. And about how THEY have better things to do with their lives, etc. More power to them, I say. 


As for me, I admit it. I love facebook. Don't get me wrong. It is definitely a mixed bag. I have seen people use it for hurtful and hateful reasons. I know there are folks who may neglect their "real" lives because of facebook. But, used well, it can be an extremely positive thing. 


For example, it is a great way to get news out to a lot of people in a hurry. When my Dad was sick and dying, I could give periodic updates (carefully worded) to friends and extended family. A lot of them are on facebook, but do not check e-mail. And being automatically reminded of birthdays is good thing. 


Another nice thing about facebook is that I am able to post my artwork and get immediate feedback. This helps me hone in on what  appeals to people. And I have made quite a few sales through my facebook inbox. It has become a gentle way to get my work "out there" but not in a hard sell or pushy way.


Facebook makes me laugh. I honestly DO lol (laugh out loud) at least once a day over something I see on facebook. I need laughs. 


Maybe the best thing about facebook for me is that it is a great place to encourage people. Young friends and family post about tests and college stress. BTDT, and I can offer an encouraging word. Someone looking for a new job? I can offer to go over his or her resume' or let them know if I hear of anything. Prayer requests? These sometimes get out of hand, but I can ALWAYS find time to say at least a "one time" prayer for any concern. 


It may sound like I am always on facebook. If I was, I would not have time to maintain the church website or teach 5 watecolor classes a month at the local senior center. I would not have time to paint for art shows and the two places I sell and exhibit my work. I would not be "doing art" every week with my great niece and nephew. I would never have time for lunch with friends, or to sing in my church choir. 


Facebook is not for everybody. I don't put anything on facebook that I would not share with the world. There IS no such thing as real privacy on internet. I have just learned to minimize the negatives and maximize the positives of this social medium and use  it to my advantage. 


Hmmm, time to go update my status... ;)

Coughing and Church

"The Crud" as many call it has kept me out of church for two Sundays now. I am not running fever. I don't feel THAT bad. But the cough just won't quit. I hate risking disturbing a service with a coughing fit that won't go away, even with cough drops. 


And there is always the issue of "Not being in the CHOIR." When I am not in my accustomed place in the loft, I never quite know what to do with myself. If I could sing, I would be up there. But, when I can't sing, I feel awkward in the congregation. And of course, there is the issue of "sitting in someone's pew." The first time I ever visited Crawford Street UMC, it was pointed out to me that I was sitting in the pew normally occupied by a longtime member. I go to church alone, so I have no regular person to sit with in the congregation. When I can, I sit on the side pew near the acolytes, behind the pianist. That works, when space is available. 


Next Sunday, I am hoping the cough is gone, but I will probably still be cautious with my voice. After having nodes, I am taking no chances with rushing back to singing. I just have to remind myself that:


1. I am a church member whether I can sing or not. 
2. The world will not end if I accidentally sit in someone's pew. 

The Grammys

No, I did not watch them. I have not watched them in some time. Partially because of my husband's dislike of awards shows. But mostly because (yes I know I sound like an old fogey here), I just don't care for much of the music that has come out in the past 10 years or so. 


However, I did go back and watch a couple of the performances the next day. Adele appears to be the dominant female voice of the current generation. And she is quite good. But, listening to her made ME realize how far I am from the things that she sings about. However, I am glad to see someone who is taking care of her voice and using it properly as a model for this generation of up and coming pop singers. The fact that she is quite pretty and popular without being "stick thin" is also a plus in my book.


Yes, I admire her talent. But she is simply not my "voice." The voices of my generation were Barbra Streisand, Karen Carpenter, Roberta Flack, Aretha Franklin, and Carole King. They are the voices I still want to listen to 30 something years later. I could even relate into the 80's and 90's with Whitney Houston (Yes, I have owned "The Bodyguard since it was released!), Alanis Morrissette, Melissa Etheridge, Tori Amos, K.D. Lang, and Fiona Apple. Somwhere around the turn of the century, my taste current music switched mostly to bands as opposed to solo female artists. 


At 52, I guess it was bound to happen. Wonder where my "Tapestry" album is? 

Happy Birthday, Bill!

My husband, Bill turns 58 on Jan 31. When he tells people his age, they almost universally express disbelief. Bill has NEVER looked his age.

Bill has accomplished a lot over this past year. He put together a book compiling and cross referencing Claiborne County marriage records from the 19th century. This was almost 4 years in the making, and sometimes involved crawling under things to get to reference materials at the Claiborne County Courthouse in Port Gibson.

Bill also went to Southaven to help my best friend move back upstairs when her recently widowed mother returned to live with her and needed the first floor. Not just one trip, but two.

Bill also was invaluable in helping with my Daddy during that last 3 months. He helped chauffer Daddy to the hospital in Jackson, sat in waiting rooms with me, and even spent nights with Daddy when he was needed. Bill was the one who went out in the rain the night of December 15th to take sweet stepmom Sara to the hospital when Daddy died.

I am proud of the things Bill has done in his life, but this year, he went above and beyond the call of duty for me, my family, and my friends. And I hope he has a wonderful birthday tomorrow. Hopefully lunch at Roca, a movie, and this gift (being delivered in the morning by neighbor Ross Ables) will make it so.

A New Bag

Sunday afternoon, I took myself shopping for a new purse. I had nothing against my old purses, but they were simply too small to carry my ever growing portable pharmacy in. I had to have easy acccess to my asthma inhalor, my Epi-Pen, Baby aspirin, eye drops, neosporin, and regular meds as well.

On the other hand, however, I am not supposed to carry a purse that is too heavy due to long standing neck and back problems. I needed to find something lightweight in a medium size. And, as I am far too lazy to regularly change purses, it needed to go with everything I own!

So, after looking through racks of dull, neutral colored purses, I found this one by Lily Bloom. Made out of recycled plastic bottles, it is lightweight and feels like nylon. And it has enough pockets to separate out things that need to be separated, but not so many that I get confused! (Not hard to do these days.) And the price was right. $35.00 on sale. I even had enough left over to buy a new wallet!

There is just something about a new purse that seems like I am making a fresh start.

Fresh starts are good. :)

Goodbye Joe

I was saddened today to hear of the death of Joe Pa. And even more saddened by the way his career ended. I still think there is much more to the story and that Joe did what he personally thought was right taking into account his generation and the information as it was presented to him. And I say this as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse myself. 


I hope history is ultimately kind to Joe. The number of kids he helped over his long and storied career has to carry some weight. 


Rest in Peace, Joe. 

The Game

Much has been made of the BCS Championship game that was played Monday night. It was a disaster for the LSU offense, led by a very shaky and apparently nervous quarterback. Some people seem ready to lynch Les Miles and even so-called die hard fans are trashing the team they rooted for up until now.


Yes, as a life long LSU fan, (born during football season 1959 while my Daddy was an engineering student there)  I am disappointed in the way this game was played and certainly in the final score. But, I really can't complain.


Why? Because overall, this season was awesome for LSU. They went 13 and 1 and won their 14th conference title. But most importantly, this season of LSU football helped distract my Daddy from the indignities, pain, and suffering caused by the return of his cancer. It gave him something to focus on, enjoy, and take pride in. The last gift I gave him was the SEC championship ball cap I ordered as soon as we clobbered Georgia. Despite the fact that he was very ill by the time it arrived, Daddy smiled when he saw it. 


Did we win the big game? No. But LSU gave Daddy a great "last" season. And, this year, that is all that matters. 

Gown Day

The last few weeks have been overwhelming, to say the least. My Daddy's last hospitalization, death, helping take care of his immediate affairs, and the holidays have all taken a major toll on both my physical, spiritual, and mental health. 


So today, I skipped church and had a "gown day." This is not something I do lightly, but I just needed some time to nurture myself. I made homemade vegetable-beef soup, watched football, napped, did a frivolous painting exercise, played endless games of Angry Birds, and streamed Star Trek, Voyager from my iPad to my TV. 


I needed today. 


And I am (at least partially) restored. 

Breathe

The numbness that protected me when my Daddy first passed away is leaving me now. That relatively blissful bubble that allowed me to make funeral preparations, sort through his things, and write coherent (I hope!) thank you notes. 


But that numbness has given way to that next stage. The stage anyone who has ever lost a dearly loved one knows all too well. That crushing, "I can't breathe", weight that settles in as the numbness wears off. 


So I struggle to remember to take one breath at a time, knowing this stage will, at some merciful point, end. But it must play out in its' own time and in its own way.


And it will.

Good Riddance?

Yesterday I read post after post on Facebook about how glad people were that 2011 was ending. There were even several somewhat vulgar renditions of the numbers 2011, signifying "good riddance." 


Long ago, I found myself occasionally "wishing years away to the cornfield." (Twilight Zone reference), but as I get older, I no longer have the desire to do that. Time is just too darn precious to me now. 


Yes, 2011 was a tough year in many respects. My beloved Daddy passed away on December 15. My sweet father in law has been ill. I spent two months of the summer in severe pain from a chest wall inflammation. I have struggled to find my singing voice again as I no longer have many opportunities to sing the solos that keep me practicing. There is no time for me, I am told. 


But, as difficult as 2011 was at times, I was also blessed beyond belief. Watching my husband blossom after retiring from a stressful job has been a joy.  Having the opportunity to touch children and senior citizens by teaching art classes has been a source of much happiness for me. I got to celebrate my best friend's 50th birthday with a wonderful weekend in a new city. I began stretching my singing wings by beginning to record a Christmas CD that hopefully will be ready for 2012 and have met delightful people in that process. I saw my niece graduate high school and begin her college career. Would I wish any of this away? I don't think so!


So don't be too hard on old 2011. Bad stuff is going to happen. That is life. 2012 may be better. It may be worse. Just take it day by day and try to see the blessings as they come. 


And they will. 

Smart

*****Rant Alert*****

Over the past few weeks, I have encountered many "smart" people, both children and adults. Kids with high IQ's who are achieving high grades in school. And adults who are not working, going to school, or doing anything really significant. What happened to these over-acheiving children? They were so smart. I thought they were going to conquer the world. What happened?

The only answer I can come up with is LIFE happened. These kids get plenty of book knowledge in school. But they don't seem to get life skills. Kids don't know how to cope with adversity, because many simply have never had to face it. Mom or Dad make sure that they never face the consequences of their actions. Things are always the "teacher's fault." Many kids don't have a concept of budgeting or saving for things they need. They are afraid to take risks and "just do it." They have never been taught how to fail.

I just want to shake these adults and say "Go to college, live in a ratty dorm, and eat Ramen noodles. You will survive and you will have an education that no one can ever take away from you." I want to say "Take the fast food/retail job. You will learn skills that will serve you well in life. Things like the fact that, in life, you are going to have to take orders from people without your level of intellect." I want to send them to classes to learn life skills if they have not learned them from parents or grandparents. And, if they really don't have a clue where they want to go in life, tell them to join a volunteer organization like "Americorps" that will help them clarify their goals. Or, join the military. 

Just DO something. 

Together for Christmas

Today is the 21st anniversary of my mother's death. I remember spending Christmas Day 1990 sitting in the ICU waiting room of the Vicksburg hospital struggling to let go of my Mama. On paper, the date is the 26th, when the doctor got there after midnight to pronounce her dead. But, she was gone Christmas night.


Since then, Christmas has been bittersweet. It was my Mama's favorite holiday and she went all out. After her death, I cut way back on things. Less spending, less cooking, less decorating. Trying to find someone off the "beaten path" to help. Not necessarily bad things. And eventually, as time passed, I began to truly enjoy parts of Christmas again.


But now, with my Daddy dead only 10 days, I am now spending the wee hours of Christmas morning in tears. It is like I am not only grieving his loss, but the loss of my mother again as well. Both gone, right here at Christmas time.


The one thought that brings me comfort at this point that my Mama and Daddy are together for Christmas, once again. And not just together, but in Heaven to boot. 


So, I will mourn my losses and hope that time once again heals me enough to enjoy the Celebration of the birth of Jesus once again. 

Sorting Through

One of today's tasks was to meet with the rest of my family to sort through some of my Daddy's things. I will be the first to admit, I am not good at this sort of thing. Even with the person gone, it seems like such an intrusion to go through their drawers, closets, and desks. 


As the others picked out things to keep as mementos, I found very little need for this. I am at a point where I am trying to simplify my life and get rid of the "things" that are not really useful or beautiful. I have photos, both displayed and on my electronic devices. My memories are safe in my head (at least for the moment). I did bring home a small coin bank that my Daddy has possessed as a child, simply because I liked it and found it charming. 


Twenty one years ago, it was much harder to part with my mother's things. While the rest of my family tossed, I gathered and boxed for going through at a later date. I guess that need for tangible things has diminished as I grow older and realize that the real "mementos" are the gifts my parents gave me growing up. I learned to be resourceful, generous, helpful, and (most of the time) kind from my parents. I learned the value of a dollar and how to work for it early on. I learned the importance of family and being there for each other. 


And these mementos are the ones that really count. 

Timing

My Daddy went "home" on Thursday night, December 15th. 


In the past, I have never really understood when a deceased person's loved ones said things like "It was a blessing" or "He/She is not suffering anymore." I do now. 


Watching my Daddy weaken, become disoriented, and struggle for breath was the hardest thing I have ever had to watch. By the final days of my Daddy's life, I was begging God to take him home. 


Now I am the one saying "It was a blessing." Don't get me wrong. I will miss my Daddy terribly. But he is not suffering anymore. 


And I am beyond thankful.

Decisions, Decisions

I will be the first to admit that decision making is not the easiest thing for me. I don't make them lightly or without a fair amount of thought and prayer. The hardest ones are those "lesser of two evils" decisions. Does one take chemo and live 2 years? Or is quality more important than quantity? Does one stay in a dating relationship that is safe, but no longer healthy? If a teen is depressed and suicidal, is a solution that helps keep that child alive OK, even if it is not the ultimate one? 

I know these decisions are inevitable. They are part of life. But that does not make them any easier. 

The Curse of Libra?

According to astrology (which I take with a healthy grain of salt, btw!), I am a LIbra, represented by the scales. Librans tend to want things balanced, can see many sides of a story, and like fair play. These characteristics fit me to a "T."


Being able to see more than one side of a story was essential to my work as a counselor. I was not allowed to choose my clients. I saw the people I was assigned. And I had to find a way to connect with them. Yes, even the sex offenders, the thieves, and the abusers. 


Don't get me wrong. Some of the crimes I heard about were horrendous. And I DON'T  excuse them. But there was almost always more than one side to the story. A mother who was arrested for child neglect was a teen "throwaway" child whose boyfriend would beat her up if she neglected HIS needs for the needs of her child. The thief was a gentle lady who had gotten caught up in gambling and was terrified after the person she owed money to threatened her child. And in some cases, a person's mind simply could not "take in" situations if he or she had been through a similar trauma. 


We also tend to filter our reactions to things through our own experiences or where we are in life.  I am not a mother, so there are things that don't hit me as hard.  However, situations involving elderly people (as I care for my seriously ill father) tug at my heartstrings in a big way. 


Nothing is completely black or white with me, and I have to be careful about voicing my to people who are (sometimes mercifully!) able to see the world that way. 


I always see shades of gray. 

The Dressing

"The Dressing" has been almost a sacred ritual in my family since I can remember. This is true "Southern" dressing made with cornbread, as opposed to "Yankee" dressing made with "light bread." Most true Southerners shudder at the thought of light bread dressing. 


My Mama and Daddy used to make the dressing together at Thanksgiving. Since Mama's death, Daddy has continued to make the dressing, with subtle changes over the years, but it is pretty much the same recipe. 


Daddy has been quite ill this Fall and for the first time since I can remember, was not up to "hosting" Thanksgiving this year. I volunteered to make his dressing for him and deliver it this year. This was a huge step, a changing of the guard in the dressing making hierarchy. 


Of course, Daddy was unable to let go completely. He called one day to make certain that I knew to use fresh broth instead of canned and to make sure I put in mostly dark meat. He even gave me the specific chicken parts he wanted used. It was to be baked in a 4 inch deep dish. The Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix I used in conjunction with the corn bread had to be the CORNBREAD version of the stuffing mix. Celery and onions could not be chopped in a food processor. They had to be done by hand, with the pieces coming out about the size of my little fingernail. Since he and my stepmom both love sage, the tablespoonful for the dressing was to be "slightly heaping." 


By the time I was ready to make the dressing, I was somewhat anxious. What if my dressing did not measure up? Horrors! 


I watched my Daddy as he scooped up his first forkful of my dressing, waiting for a response. I did not realize that I was actually holding my breath until he chewed, swallowed...


And pronounced it "perfect." 

R&R

Tomorrow, I will get in my minivan, crank up some music and head to Columbus, Mississippi. There, I will meet up with my long time best friend, Teresa, and we will tour antebellum homes, eat, sit in the hot tub, and sleep as late as we want to for three glorious days and nights. 


Teresa has been my friend for so long that most of the time, words need not even be exchanged. We can convey volumes with just a look or a gesture. And we have a tendency to burst into song at the drop of a hat. 


Coming off of a summer of illness and crisis for me and loved ones, I need this break desperately. I am letting other family members handle things for a few days. I have to rest and recharge my body, my mind, and my spirit. I can't afford not to. 

iPhone 4s

On Friday, Oct. 14th, I did something I never thought I would do. I drove to the Apple Store in Jackson to get in line for the newest incarnation of the iPhone on the actual day it came out. I skipped the "4" altogether. I can't afford to upgrade every time a new iPhone comes out. But the timing of this was perfect. Two days after my birthday, with birthday money in hand, I decided to go for the 4s. 


When I got to the store, the first wave of customers had already come and gone. The store was full, but I was ushered in and quickly set up with a white, 32 gig model. As I exited the store, clutching my new toy, a reporter from "The Clarion Ledger" asked for an interview that would be quoted in the next days business section. How cool was that? 


I am actually not one who has to have the latest or most expensive gadget. I saved my money for almost a year and waited until the second iPad came out before I bit. What a difference being able to read on that thing has made in my life! My iMac was another thing that I did not buy until my old PC crashed and burned. A Mac just happened to suit my particular computer needs better than a PC by then. I did not get an iPhone until the 3Gs came out. 


So far, I love my 4s! It is much faster than the 3Gs. The battery life is longer. It has more capacity than my former phone so I can load more of my music and my e-books on it. And it has "Siri", that voice activated personal assistant that is getting so much attention. I have to admit, I am loving this feature! Today I was able to find a friend the name of an Italian restaurant in Clinton, create a reminder to pick up my medicine, and find all the United Methodist churches in Warren County. Pretty cool!


Over the past month, life has changed rather drastically. Not just for me, but for several loved ones. I foresee a fair amount of sitting in doctors office waiting rooms and hospitals. Being able to read, listen to music, check my email, Facebook, and text easily makes a huge difference and may just save my sanity. (If I ever had any. That is debatable!) 


Thanks again, Apple. 

Wireless

Last week, I purchased an early birthday gift, to me, from me. Sony wireless headphones from newegg.com. 


These headphones including shipping were slightly less than $40.00. I can already tell that this is some of the best money I have ever spent. They work quite well, the sound quality is pretty nice for the price, and best of all, I can watch TV and movies freely without worrying about disturbing my husband who is often in bed by 9PM.


Before my headphones, I would try to watch TV in our small home, but always cringed when a noisy commercial came on before I could find the mute button. I love to read, but by evening, my vision is too blurred to do much of that. Depending on vision and hand stiffness, painting is often out by late evening. So, I depend on the "boob tube" to keep me company when I am up till 1 and 2 AM. I can DVR and watch all the stuff my husband is not fond of like "Dancing With the Stars", "Say Yes to the Dress", "Project Runway", and "America's Got Talent." Hey, I need my doses of mindless TV every now and then. And I have to have my periodic Anderson Cooper and Piers Morgan fixes as well. 


A new "Coach" store is opening in our outlet mall today. I couldn't care less. Forget fancy purses and shoes. Forget fine jewelry. 


For me, it is all about electronics. 


Call me "Gadget Girl".

The Age of Cancer

Over the past couple of weeks, several friends and loved ones of mine have been either diagnosed with cancer or that their cancer has returned. Coincidentally, all of these folks have been over the age of 70. But, they also are people who have, up until now, been active and independent. None of them have any problems with dementia. None of them were down physically, other than with some normal things that happen with age, such as osteoarthritis. Shoot, most of them can run circles around me!


So why, when sharing news and asking for prayers, has age come up as the primary issue? In these days of better health care, increased awareness, and prevention, 80 is really no longer what I personally call "old." My church has several members over the age of 90 who still live independently, drive their cars (safely, I might add!) and take care of their friends and families. 


I feel the same way about the cancer diagnoses of my 70+ friends and loved ones as I do when I hear of a loved one 30 years younger being diagnosed. It may be a harder fight, but, depending on the individual, that fight can still be worth it. 


And it can be won. 

Attack of the Superwomen

I am not Superwoman. I admit, there was a time when I wanted to be. I was going to be the one who could do it all. And not just do it all, but with style, grace, and ease. 


Chronic illness helped knock the desire to be Superwoman out of me. I began to realize how much of my identity was tied up with "doing." It took a while for me to be at peace with just "being".  Of course, I still "do." But, I don't have to do things better than anyone else. I don't have to do "more." 


This peace has been tested this week. I have been in a situation where I have had to sit back on my little red scooter and watch others "do it all".  My relatively small offerings have been minimized and eclipsed. I just have to hope that my efforts have made some differences where it really counts and to not worry about the scope of them. 


Can I "not" do it all with style and grace? Stay tuned.

The Verdict

After being in pain for most of the summer and being poked and prodded for a month, the verdict is costochondritis. This is severe inflammation of the cartilage that connects the ribs to the sternum. 


http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/costochondritis/DS00626


According to my neuromuscular doc, this condition is fairly common in people who have multiple autoimmune diseases. That includes me. 


Getting my heart, stomach, and gallbladder checked out were, according to my doc, the appropriate things to do, given my family history and age. But, in the end, it was benign, but painful, inflammation that was the trouble. 


I feel like I "lost" my summer, between being in too much pain to function well and being in hospitals and doctor's offices. But, the upside is that, after 2 1/2 months, I am finally feeling human again. 


Just in time for Fall. 

Frustration

One of the most frustrating things about being disabled is inability to guarantee someone that I will be completely and totally reliable. When I was healthy, I always took great pride in being dependable. And even sick, if a crisis occurred, I was going to find someone to cover for me or at the very least call (sometimes removing my oxygen mask in an ER, much to the consternation of the medical staff) to let someone know that I would not make an appointment. 

I know that people in charge of things have to make sure that things are covered. But I get discouraged when tasks and opportunities are taken from me "just in case." I try very hard to pace myself and do the best I possibly can to make sure I can meet the things I commit to. I may not get things done quite as fast as a "non disabled" person. But, I daresay, I fulfill my obligations better than a lot of healthy people I know! 

Believe me. I will be the first person to take myself out of the game if I cannot perform a duty well and in a timely manner. 

Don't dwell on my disabilities. Dwell on my abilities. 

The "Box"

A year ago today, I took a gamble and became part of a new gift and consignment shop called "The Cricket Box." Little did I know what a blessing I was in for!

I am now selling enough art to keep myself in supplies, donate to charity, and make a bit of profit. People tell me that looking at my "wall" makes them smile. This is all I could ask for.

Forming relationships with other vendors has also been a wonderful experience. Most of us help each other out whether it is hammering a nail that is *just* out of reach or helping someone create a Facebook page. If a friend or acquaintance is looking for something, we direct them to our fellow vendors at the "Box."

But, by far, the biggest blessing has been getting to know the owners of this amazing operation, Debbie Tate and Judy Wooley. They have not only managed to start a business (yes, in THIS economy!), but they  manage their business with grace. And they always have a smile and an encouraging word for us vendors. They make it a pleasant place just to "be."

A year ago, I took a $100.00 gamble on myself.

And won.

A Proper Funeral

Yesterday, I was privileged to attend the funeral service for a longtime family friend, Miss Jean.

It was a very proper service, the likes of which I had not seen in some time. Almost everyone was dressed in "Sunday best" attire which to me is a sign of respect for the church in which the service is held as well as for the deceased.

The choir that Miss Jean had accompanied sang favorite old hymns in voices that quavered a bit at times. Pallbearers marched in wearing dark suits and white gloves. Large white carnations, which would later be placed on the casket, adorned their lapels.

One of Jean's friends stood and shared stories about her. The pastor, a wonderfully upbeat fellow, did his best to make the service a celebration of Jean's life and focused on her "new" pain and struggle-free life with Jesus.

After the service, the pall bearers marched out behind the casket and after it was put in the hearse, stood still and faced the bereaved as they exited the church.

I did not stay for the repast after the service. However, I could tell that there was going to be quite a feast for Jean's friends and family when they returned from the graveside where she was laid to rest beside her husband.

Music, flowers, laughter, tears, and fellowship. I think Miss Jean would have approved.

Rest in peace sweet lady.

Hurricane Party

As I was watching coverage of Hurricane Irene, this video came on CNN. Rather than submit to the uncertainties of shelter life, these feisty senior citizens chose to ride out the hurricane in their retirement apartment building.

I can't say that I blame them. As they pointed out, some of them had serious medical conditions that would make trying to sleep on cots difficult to impossible. And what about their medical equipment, special diets, etc?

It made me think about what I would do if faced with that choice. I might get down on one of those shelter cots. But it would take several people to get me UP. And if they had to do that every time I had to go to the bathroom, it would be a full time job!

Would I be able to hook up my biPap? I stop breathing at least once every minute and a half to two minutes without it and wake up in a total fog and with a terrible headache.

And would my medicines be safe? I take too many to carry around in my purse all the time. Especially if they were all in bottles. Not to mention epi-pens, inhalers, my nebulizer, my walker and my scooter. I am seriously high maintenance!

I have to admit, I would probably take my cue from those seniors and stay home.

And pray. A lot.

A Grace Moment

Tonight I had what I call a "grace moment." One of those times when, unexpectedly, a burden is lifted. A dreaded task does not have to be performed. A day does not have to be completely juggled and reconfigured.

I would have performed this task with all of the grace I could muster. But, I was concerned about how my body was going to hold up in the heat that is expected tomorrow. Not knowing how far I might have to walk and what assistive device I would need. Whether the chest pains that leave me slightly lightheaded and short of breath would plague me at an inopportune time. Sometimes, even with my limitations, I am "it." 

But now I can go to bed, hopefully to sleep. 

And say a prayer of thanksgiving for my "grace moment." 

Sapped

 

I have been in "extra" pain for almost 7 weeks now. I am in the process of being poked, prodded, and tested to find the source of the unrelenting chest pain. My heart has pretty much been cleared. This is good. But, I am still hurting.

I am no stranger to pain. I have been in varying degrees of discomfort/pain since I fractured my back in a bus crash at age 18 . I also have scoliosis and other back and neck issues. Chiropractic care helps me keep the pain at a manageable level for the most part. I take only an occasional OTC Aleve or Tylenol. 

But being at this level of pain is affecting both my energy and my creativity. My mind is so occupied with "keeping going" that I don't seem to have the energy left to be truly creative. And this lack of creativity is wearing on my spirit. 

I am sapped. 

CAPTCHA

This is the name of those codes that one must type in so that a site can make sure responses are generated by a real person. For most people, these are not hard to figure out and type in. 

But for someone like myself, who deals with bouts of double vision due to the the neuromuscular disease, myasthenia gravis, it can be impossible to read and reproduce these codes. Many of them contain letters that are slightly doubled to begin with. That means I see FOUR of the characters. Even when I greatly increase the size of the text, which I do for almost all webpages, I still can't figure them out. This affects my ability to do things ranging from commenting on a blog post, to making an online purchase. 

And yes, I have tried to use the audio version of these CAPTCHA codes. I have yet to be able to understand one of them. That robotic voice is as indecipherable to my ears as the letters are to my eyes!

There has to be a better way. 

Really.

Courtesy

Most of us were brought up to be courteous to friends, acquaintances, and even strangers. But how many of us extend this courtesy to the people who should count the most...our families.

I try very hard to do this. I say please and thank you. I return things I borrow. I take my turn and try to pull my weight as much as I am able. I return phone calls and text messages. I think my family deserves this as much as anyone else. I don't always succeed, but I do try.

Is it too much to ask for that same courtesy in return?

Jobs

Lately, it seems like every time I turn on the TV, I hear the word "jobs." As in shortage of them. I do not doubt that more jobs are needed.

But, sometimes I have to wonder about the people who are looking for jobs as well. I see people in doctors offices, restaurants, stores, and other businesses who say they are there to fill out a job application or have an interview. One young man came to fill out a job application without even bringing a pen! I loaned him one, but I could tell that he was not prepared to make a good impression. His pants were "sagging" and his shirt was stained. He looked like a nice young man, but I would not hire him. Dress as if the job is already yours.

And then there are the people who say they are trying to find work, but no effort is made to really look. When one is looking for a job, one needs to MAKE that his or her job. It takes time, patience, and persistence. When I was looking for work in college, I went into to stores even if they did not indicate they were hiring. More than once, I was able to persuade these folks to hire me.

And it is true that one is more likely to find a better job when one is already employed. Do something! An elderly friend of mine went for an interview with the highway department. He was told he was not qualified for the position. He replied "How much skill does it take to cut a bush?" This told his prospective employers that he was willing to start at the bottom and work his way up. He got the job.

Is the job you get going to be your dream job? Maybe not. But it can be a foot in the door. And don't be afraid to try something new. Who knows? It might be the start of something big!