There are Doctors and then there are Doctors

In June, 1994, actually the day that O.J. Simpson went on his wild driving spree after the death of his wife, Nicole, I was involved in a serious accident.  I had picked up my daughter from work and we were going home when a young girl, 15 years old driving on a permit with a 17 year old licensed driver in the pickup truck with her was speeding and ran a stop sign hitting my van in the middle of an intersection.  The impact threw my van up and over the northwest corner breaking the tire away from the wheel, back across the street and up over a curb and it stopped at the front door of a house on the southwest corner.

I was dazed and in shock and kept yelling for someone to call the police.  My daughter was not seriously injured was able to get out and the people who lived in the home had called the police.  It was a nightmare and the officer never really talked to me until after the other driver had left and then he spoke briefly to me.  The EMS was called but I didn't think my injuries were severe that I needed a ride in the ambulance and that I would have a friend of my daughter come pick us up and take me.  We arranged for the van to be towed to a friend's garage.

I was checked out at the hospital and sent home even though I kept telling them I felt as if I had some broken ribs or something had happened to my left shoulder, arm and chest area.  My neck was already stiffening up and I had a cut on my leg where I hit the gear shift plus a small cut on my left hand which we never really did figure out how it happened unless the impact which threw me towards the driver's door which took the hit on the post, somehow caused it.

I went home and tried to rest but the pain would not go away and the following weeks were frequent checks to the doctor's office and even the emergency room when I thought I was having a heart attack.  I couldn't lift my left arm up to even comb my hair or to get dressed was so painful it brought tears.  My neck continued to get worse and after countless x-rays, MRI's they did a cat scan and showed nothing.  The only diagnosis was that I was badly bruised and had some pulled muscles.  I suffered Whip Lash which no one considered an injury at the time, however since then, they are looking at this type of injury and its long term effects.

I was sent for therapy which only aggravated the condition and I begged my doctor to let me stop.  I was fitted with a tens unit to help control the pain however I couldn't use it near the heart area so only in the rib area and shoulder and neck and even then I had to be careful where I placed it.

I was seen and examined by over a half a dozen doctors, went to the emergency room and everyone seemed to think I was exaggerating and that I wasn't hurt as bad as I seemed to think.  They insisted that the therapy and tens unit would cure me and that it took time for "pulled muscles" and bruises to heal.

After several months, I was able to lift my arm again but there was still pain but I continued to use it as I didn't want it to freeze up on me.  I was unable to work and lost my job.  To supplement our income, as my husband was driving a floral delivery truck and making wood crafts on his off time which I would paint and finish so we could do craft shows to bring in the extra money.

I worried about him driving during the winter months and in September 1995 we had the opportunity to buy a farm in south west Arkansas.  My insurance company was giving me no support and told me I should settle with hers as I really didn't have a case.  So when we decided to move and leave the Joplin, Missouri area we made a settlement with her insurance company.  There again, when I asked about future medical they almost laughed and then had the gall to have my husband sign the papers since his name was first on our insurance.  He was not at the accident, not in the vehicle and was at work and never found out about the accident until 7 hours later when he came home and found me and I told him.

But it was done and I knew that I would have future bills.  The statute has run out now and after years of explaining to doctors, I was always told the same thing or that it was something else and that it wasn't related.  It didn't seem to bother them that I can only turn my head part way to the left and when I'm driving or need to look over my left shoulder, I have to turn my body to see.  When I complained about the soreness and pain in my chest, I was told I had Pleurisy and possible inflammation from Bronchitis.  I was treated with antibiotics and suffered through it even after the symptoms disappeared for a few days, they would return.



But since I was also experiencing allergy conditions, he checked me over and said he thought I had an allergy related asthma and prescribed an inhaler and gave me some antibiotics and meds to help me get through the initial siege.  But all summer I have suffered with the allergies, runny nose, sneezing, watery eyes, coughing and of course a heaviness in my chest making it hard to breathe at times.  I've worn a mask when I'm out and the pollen count is high but I still had all the problems as if I'd never wore one.

About a month ago, I began to notice some changes.  The pain in the chest was worse and the coughing made it awful.  It caused a sharp severe pain in the chest, muscle spasms which felt as if I had a belt tightening around my chest and then a pain down the left arm.  I admit I was worried that I could be having a heart attack.  It would come and go and finally I made the appointment to go see my doctor.

First of all he said it was not a heart attack and after I told him about the accident and the pain, soreness and tenderness and that sometimes it felt as if my lung might be collapsed or something, he looked at me and told me that I have a condition called Costochrondritis.  It involves the cartilage connecting the rib cage to the breast bone and is an injury that never really heals.  It will get better but can also become inflamed from colds, allergies, viruses or any upper respiratory infection.

He even gave me a print out of the condition, its symptoms, the causes and what treatment is available.  It had taken 16 years but I found a doctor who knew and understood and now I will be undergoing treatment with anti inflammatory (non-steroidal) for the rest of my life.  He said it will be the only way to control the pain and soreness and the severe pain I experience.

This has been the biggest relief to me.  I know it is there and I will have pain and discomfort but I also know how to take care of it now and I can relax knowing it isn't my heart or that I am having a heart attack.  Not to say that some day I could but for now, we know my heart is good and isn't the cause.

I will be undergoing Pulmonary Function tests in a week to see what we can do about the Asthma which he thinks is the main cause of my problems with congestion and breathing. 

It is also nice to know that I can do my chores without having to worry if I'll be in so much pain later that I can't sleep or even sit for long periods as sometimes all I can do is walk or stand and try to stretch or do anything to make the spasms and pain go away.

Why after all the examinations and doctors I met with immediately after my accident and those I have had all these years, that they couldn't diagnose this for me and give me something, I don't know but I do know that I have been blessed with a knowledgeable doctor who has diagnosed it and is treating it.

This is a man who is more than just a Doctor.  He is caring and he listens and he knows his medicine.  He is a Doctor, one that can be trusted and I know one day he will retire and I will be lost as I've never met a doctor who I've had this much confidence in.  He cares more about taking care of his patients than how much money he will make.  I think back about some of the doctors I've seen with their fancy offices and all the latest equipment and the money that I've spent or when I had insurance, that was paid and then I look at my doctor now with a nice but older office, with equipment that is needed for the office and with our local hospital, he can order x-rays, lab work or whatever he needs.

He not only corrected my blood pressure medicine, but discovered my cholesterol levels were high and is treating me for that problem as well.  No other doctor had done that or even checked me for it. 

Yes, there are Doctors and then there are real Doctors and my Doctor is the later.  Thank you Dr. Farrow.

A Different Kind of Vice

I admit that I have some vices, I like to have a drink or two now and then, I smoke but am really trying to quit and have cut back considerably.  I love playing games on the computer when I'm bored and I LOVE CATS. 

And to me cats are my vice.  I collect cats, the kind you put on a shelf and look at and I have shirts with cats on them, some have sayings, but I also have the real kind.  I even wrote a book about cats I used to have and other short stories about cats. Currently I have two indoor cats.  Ms. Kitty who is 2 1/2, a gray striped tabby who thinks this is her house and we are allowed to occupy it with her and Shadow, a one year old long haired white with gray markings similar to a Siamese or Himalayan who is gentle and loving and takes Ms. Kitty's abuse.

There are times when the two of them get along famously but then there are the times when for no reason, she decides he has denied her something and she slaps the dickens out of him.  He rarely retaliates but will slink away from her until she is over her tantrum.

I also have some outdoor cats.  I have a yellow tom named Freddie, a solid black tom named Midnight, a gray tabby called Mean Mama who I can't catch and is continuously providing me with more kittens to find homes for.  I did have another wild and mean female who has isolated herself from the others, but I don't think it was her choice.  I think she was banned for some reason.  Being wild, I have been unable to catch her but so far she isn't giving me litter after litter of kittens.  Then there are the twins, two little girls kittens that I've tried to capture and give away but evade me.  They are white like Shadow and beginning to show the gray markings so are beautiful cats but being female, I need to have them spayed if I am going to keep them and catching them is a job.

But this comes to a new segment in my outdoor cats lives.  Mean Mama has three little kittens right now that I am trying to tame down to find homes when they are weaned.  She recently brought them out so that they can learn how to eat the cat food and drink from the water dish I provide but they are also still nursing so not quite ready to take away yet.

But as with all kittens, just like babies, they are just so darn cute and it is so hard to part with them.  They bounce around and play with each other, climb up on things and fall off but get right back up and do it again.  They jump at each other as if they are big and brave and will scare the other one.   They are at that awkward stage when they often stagger or fall when they are running.  But they get right back up and keep right on going.

Kind of reminds me of toddlers as they begin to walk and run.  And I guess baby kittens are like that too. They go through a toddler stage.

Now, comes my dilemna.  There are three little cuties, a gray tabby which is a little girl, a calico with white, also a little girl and then there is Tippy.  He is dark colored with white feet and white under his chin and on his face and just a tip of white on his tail.  And he is a little boy.

Today, friends of my daughter were here and talked me into brining Tippy inside.  He did settle down on my lap and went to sleep and seemed contented but I knew he isn't quite ready to leave Mama just yet so I did take him back to her later.  Now I have to decide if I do want to bring him in and let Ms. Kitty and Shadow have a new playmate and also another stumbling block that will be at my feet or if I leave him outside to be with Freddie and Midnight who for tomcats seemed to like it here and never venture far from home.

Right now, Tippy is cute and sweet and cuddly but he will grow up to be a big cat and that is where I am having a problem deciding.  With three cats inside, I know that will mean another food bowl, another litter box, more cat hair and more danger of one getting tangled up under my feet and tripping me.  But then there is that moment when they are so loving and sit on my lap and close their eyes and purr, kneading me and letting me know how much they love me.

It is a hard decision and I know if I do leave him out, I will worry about him just as I do Freddie and Midnight.  There is always the chance that they could get run over by a car if they would happen to run out into the road, or be attacked by a dog who is a cat hater, as we do have a few around the neighborhood, or even a wild animal as I have heard the coyotes running in the open area behind my house.

Freddie and Midnight have learned and as I said, they don't stray to far from the house and they have learned to avoid some of the pitfalls but there is always that chance they will be caught unawares and something could happen to them.  I try not to think about it, but it happens. 

Both are gentle souls who often play with the kittens and I'm sure that should I keep Tippy, they will take him under their care and train him the way things should be for a cat living outside.  They do have a special place to go when it is raining or cold and so are kept warm and dry.

I do have allergies and I think my indoor cats do add to that but at the same time, I would be lost without their companionship.  They seem to know when I'm sad or I'm ill and are right there to give me comfort and for me there is just something about having a cat or two in the house that makes it homey.  I've had a lot of cats through the years and felt the heartache when I've lost them but I have been fortunate to find a new one that doesn't take their place, but gives me the comfort and companionship and fills my heart full of love for them while keeping my memories of the love I had for my lost companions.

Common sense tells me that I really don't need three cats living with me inside the house, while the softer side who loves cats is saying yes, please bring in the new bundle of joy to add to the family.  And probably my common sense will just disappear once I know that Tippy is weaned and I expect that he will become a fixture inside, joining Ms. Kitty and Shadow and giving me a lap full of cats to love.

Progressing? Regressing?

It is a question that I often ask myself these days.  It seems since our government has deemed that they know more about what we want or how we want to live, we are not Progressing but we are Regressing.

They have reduced the size of our cars so that the safety features have all but disappeared.  With the smaller and lighter weight, they may reduce fuel usage by a couple of miles per gallon but they are a hazard and a danger.  If you look at a new car that is even in a minor crash, it is almost destroyed.  Now, if it is a major crash, the chance of injury or even death is much greater.

I'm all for conservation, but sometimes it can be carried away with fanatics and the car is just one of those fantasies.

And why can't we produce our own oil and gas in this country?  We did for years and it was a very good livilihood for several people.  Our costs were low at the pump, we had refineries that that we didn't have to pay to have it hauled halfway around the world and pay the exhorbant prices that we are forced to pay.  Not only did the oil field workers lose their jobs, the refinery workers were laid off too as refineries were closed down.  They said because the cost of upgrading would be too much.  Please!  The American people are not stupid, not when there were millions being made daily on the production.  The CEO's just didn't want to part with any of their profit.  They would rather put it in their pocket than put it back into the business.

One of the main principles of business is that the profit can only be after all the bills are paid and that also includes maintenance or even upgrading.  That is a very simple principle and common sense if they have any, should realize that you can't spend your money and then try to fix something or complain that it might cost you an extra dollar that you can't take home to spend on a fancy car or boat or a trip around the world.  Please! Get real and know your business practices.

And the government wants to control our food, either by telling us we can't buy fast food or making our work areas free of pop machines as we might have too much sugar.  Since when are they the food police.  If a person is going to eat fast food, no one is going to stop them, if they become obese, it is by their own choosing.  They need to find the will power to eliminate the fast food if they want to lose weight.

But when they begin saying, "You can't have a garden," because they are afraid you might give away or sell your excess produce, or even if you have a truck garden, then that is a no-no.  Why?  We have had gardens for years and ate from our own gardens or shared with our family, friends and neighbors.  Since when is it a crime to grow a tomato or bean on your own property for your own food source?  Since the government has decided that it will cheat the big farmer who has all the prepared foods in the grocery store.  It comes down to the bottom line again. 

We cannot have gardens to grow fresh vegetables, but yet it is perfectly all right for us to buy vegetables at the grocery store that are grown in foreign countries that have no laws in regards to use of pesticides or growing conditions.  Then when an illness breaks out, they are all flustered.  I'm really surprised more people don't get sick and die eating food that is grown outside this country.  I refuse to buy it.  I will grow my own or go without before I will by foreign grown food.

Today, a giant in the industry of this country shut down after doing business for over a century, providing us with something so simple and yet much needed.  The electric light bulb.  I really think Thomas Edison had a great idea and wanted Progress when he invented the light bulb.  It took us away from the dim light of the kerosene lamps which weren't that good and hard on the eye sight.

So today, General Electric, stating they were shutting down because of the demand of the public for the new curly Q light bulb the government is forcing on us, is no longer.  More people out of a job because some ignoramus thinks he knows what the people want. 

I feel like I might as well pull out my Great Grandfather's oil lamp and find the fuel to use it as the new light bulbs don't put off much more light than that oil lamp.

Supposedly it is a cost cutting factor.  The new bulb uses less electricity so therefore it is supposed to be better.  WRONG!!!  When you have to use more than one in close proximity just to have enough light to read or even see if you are sewing on a button, then how is that cost effective.   So you use six bulbs in the overhead instead of four just so you can see what you are doing.  Is that cost effective?  Is that Progression?

Security lights?  Forget it.  The outdoor light will be so dim, that it will almost invite unwanted visitors to your door as they can hide in the shadows much easier.

No, I think we are REGRESSING and will continue to regress as long as we allow our government to make decisions about our daily lives.  It is not PROGRESSION when jobs are removed because they feel they aren't viable or when they take the attitude that LESS IS BEST.

I am mad.  Really mad.  So I will continue to drive my older model car and I will have to pay for the high gas prices but at least I'm comfortable and feel I have a fighting chance if I should have an accident.  And I am going to buy up all the incandescent bulbs I can find so that I will have good light when I need it and I refuse to use the Curly Q that is antiquated before it ever gets started.  And I will grow my own garden and eat my own food even if I have to meet the inspectors at the gate to my private property to tell them to go away. 

I refuse to regress and I will progress the best way I know how but I will not allow anyone to tell me that I can't do something, or won't do something or how to do something as long as I am an American and I am free.

AH CHOO!!

I've always had a little trouble with what was called "spring fever," when the pollen counts were up and I'd be out but not a real problem until the last few years when my doctor told me it was allergies that was causing my constant sneezing, coughing, runny nose, watery eyes thing. 

 WHAT?  I'm to old to be suffering from allergies.  I thought that was for the younger crowd.  Wrong.  Anyway now I have Asthma associated with the allergies so there are days when I am miserable and even worse trying to sleep.

I have an inhaler and wear a mask when I'm working outside.  I hate the mask and am now called "The Masked Bandit of the Neighborhood."  But it does help so I put the silly thing on.  I wear it when I'm out with the trimmer, or riding on the mower and sometimes just when I'm out messing around and the pollen count is so high.

I can really sympathize with allergy suffers now as I am also one of them.  But to me, it seems there are more and more these days.  Maybe it is just that there are more people around and so it is more noticeable.

Kind of like food allergies.  Used to be no one heard of anyone really being allergic to any foods, but then we used to grow our own and our grandmothers and mothers prepared it in their own kitchens without all the additivies that are in our prepared foods we buy at the grocery store.

And with the pesticides which are used and they are regardless of what the law says about using them.  If they didn't, the crops would be eaten alive by the pests. 

Another thing is that most of our fresh vegetables and some of our fruit isn't even grown in our country and allowed to grow in foreign countries with no control over pesticide use or for that matter, control over the sanitary growing conditions.

If I buy anything from the grocery store, I make sure I wash it thoroughly as I have no idea where it came from or the conditions for which it was grown.  I prefer to buy locally from growers that I know so I feel safer.  My husband loved to garden and we used to have a garden to grow our own, but I'm not a gardener so I have to rely on buying either prepared canned or frozen or buy from a country market if I can find one.

And we have so many different fibers in our homes and clothes.  I'm sure there are many things in the fabrics that can cause allergies.  It used to be that we only had cotton or cotton blends but even now some of them can cause allergic reactions.

Spring, Summer and Fall.  The best seasons to get outside and enjoy ourselves and yet the worst time of the year for allergy sufferers.  Seems only Winter is allergy free unless you are allergic to the wood burning in the fireplace or foods.

I guess it is just another one of those things we have in our daily lives that we have to compensate for.  We take our meds and use inhalers but we aren't going to give up what we enjoy even though we know we will suffer later.   Ah Choo!

Chitlins to Caviar

When I struggled to find a title to my latest book, I wanted something that would reflect two completely different life styles.  It suddenly came to me that the young lady in this story lives a simple life with little fluff or glamour, until she is catapulted into a new life style, one that allows her travel to all the places she has dreamed about, giving her the things she always wanted, a life of style, glamour and notoriety.

Chitlins, a slang of Chiterlings is a common staple among rural families who often make their own Chitlins, a snack similiar to those we often buy in the grocery store.  Chitlins are made from the belly of a pig and would be considered in the same food category as pork rinds or some chips.

Caviar, of course is the eggs from fish, served as an appetizer for the elite who think eating Caviar is the epitome of class and style.

To be honest, I've never eaten either one and really don't care too but if that is someone's taste, then who am I to say anything against it. 

Chitlins to Caviar

     Martha Rose dreamed that one day she would have the fine home and exquisite dresses of the beautiful women she saw on the movie screen or in the magazines.  Living on a farm, her attire most of the time were denim jeans and a plaid shirt and of course being barefoot as she ran through the tall grasses or waded in the streams.  Lazing by the side of a creek waiting for the fish to bite were her times when she could look up in the sky and dream of the day when she would have everything she ever wanted.
     Martha Rose had a talent that was discovered by accident.  If it was from all the photos and movie scenes she had seen, she didn't know but she had a fashion sense and when a friend of her brother discovers this talent, she helps Martha Rose go to school and also helps her find a position in the fashion industry as a designer for a well known Paris fashion salon.
     Martha Rose studies and learns but she also has her own style that she would like to show.  And by working with a French designer, the thrill of a lifetime is presented as she goes to Paris and her designs are in demand.
     But there are problems in her personal life.  She met Richard, a friend of her brother and slowly she falls in love with him thinking that he could never care for her.  Then there is Gerard, the designer who is in love with Martha Rose and could give her everything she ever wanted and more.
     As Gerard puts pressure on her, Martha Rose leaves the salon, going back to her small home town, not facing defeat but a new determination.  She can start all over on her own and with that determination, she discovers that Richard wants to be a part of her life.
     Martha Rose embarks on her new adventure with enthusiasm and love but can she transform herself from the poor country girl who loves Chitlins to the successful designer with Caviar taste?


A delightful story that makes you want to cry and laugh but most of all, you want to be there to help Martha Rose and encourage her as she faces the fashion world and the disappointments and the joys as she discovers what she really wants and what is really important in her life.

For more information about Chitlins to Caviar visit my website at www.writer43.webs.com

Monday

Monday:  The first day of the week.  The day that many go back to work after a weekend of relaxing, or go back to school.

But what about Monday?  It can either be a good day or a bad day.

For the good day.  You are refreshed after a nice weekend, and you are bright and ready to hit the books or get to work.  You grab that first cup of coffee at your place of employment, greet your fellow employees and even share what you did over the weekend.

It is the beginning of a new week with new projects and even if it was hard getting out of bed and getting started, once you have, then you are ready and raring to go.  You have the ambition to tackle that new project or learning project and you are anxious to get it done before the end of the day.  There is something about starting off on a good Monday morning that helps you get motivated and stay motivated for the remainder of the week.

But what about the bad day.  It was hard to get up and get going, perhaps because you knew you had an unfinished project that you would be facing at work, or a hard test at school.  You might have overslept as you overdid on the weekend and still feel tired and sluggish.

But the worst part about a bad Monday is trying to find a solution or fix a problem that occured on Friday or over the weekend.   Car trouble, plumbing problems, appliance failures or any one of a number of things that seems like if they could go wrong, they do go wrong.

Then it is a constant race to try to do your work, fix the problem and hope that by the end of the day, you can go home with an easy mind.  If not, then your Monday goes on and on until the problem is fixed. 

So Monday is probably the most important day of the week.  It is the day that gets us started for what the rest of the week will be.  Sometimes we can control how it starts and other times we can't, but either way, it is always a Monday that seems to be the busiest and the most worriesome of all the days of the week.

I wonder if we traded Monday for a Wednesday if it would be better.  I doubt it as it seems Monday is the day that we have to face one way or the other and I hope that all the Mondays can be good days.

The Scoop

The title of my novel The Scoop, pretty much tells all.  I got my inspiration from two local TV reporters.  One I had seen from the time she started with the station to becoming an anchorwoman today.  She worked hard to move up the ranks and is a good reporter.  The other was a young man who came to our local market and I just enjoyed watching him.  He had a sense of humor and it reflected in his reporting so it gave him a distinction of being a professional and yet he could make a story interesting if not amusing.

The story kind of evolved as I took those two people and tried to give them a new life in my story.  I have to admit that even I was surprised at the ending.  I wrote the story and it paralleled a lot of what is going on in the world today, only I might have emphasized it a little more to make it more interesting.  But then I got to the point that I did not know what was going to happen.

I sat there looking at the screen, after re-reading what I had previously written and then I decided to just start typing and see where the muse would take me.  I often do this and sometimes it works and other times I erase the whole thing and start all over.  But this time, my characters actually took over and finished the story for me.  I let the muse guide them and later when it was finished, I marvelled at what the imagination can do when put to the test.

I consider The Scoop to be one of my best novels and another favorite like The Lewis House Saga.  It gave me an opportunity to put into words a story with substance that grabs the reader and makes them want to keep reading until the end.

I was fortunate that I had some knowledge of the newspaper field as well as the television field as I have a dear friend who is a publisher of a small town newspaper and I became friends with his editor when I first started publishing my books.  And my oldest daughter worked in the television field for a number of years, behind the camera in the control room or even running a camers if needed.  She had some producer experience as well.
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The Scoop

     Maggie Madill was given a raw deal by the newspaper she worked for as a stranger, Jeffery Coleman, comes to town and charms his way into her position.  But his charm doesn't work on Maggie and it is the beginning of a cat and mouse game as Maggie makes up her mind that she will show Jeffery that she can hold her own.
     As a scandal hits Brownsville, the two reporters vie for the information to beat out the other for the headlines.  It is during the trial, that they both hear something in the testimony that puts them on the trail to get more information.  When the prosecutors neglect to follow up, Maggie strikes out on her own as does Jeffery.
     But as Maggie digs and gets closer to the truth, the threats on her life and that of her daughter become serious.  She gets the chance to work for the local television station where she meets David McCoy.  A relationship soon develops until she discovers that David is under cover for the FBI and feels he is restricting her investigation.
     Even when the new prosecutor is shot at, Maggie suspects there was more to it.  She is shocked to find out that he is also an undercover agent.  But when she along with her camera crew are returning from another trial and are run off the road.  Maggie is scared, but more so, because she now knows who is behind it all.
    The race is on to uncover the unknown leader behind all the corruption and when Maggie has her proof, she goes on the air with the breaking news, beating out Jeffery for the Scoop.

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In this day and age with television ready at a minute's notice to bring us breaking news, the newspaper is behind the times.  In this story, it shows how when it is important, the television is our first source of news, while we have to wait until the next day to read the headlines in the newspaper. 

We have relied on our newspapers for years to bring us the headlines of breaking news or what is happening in our communities but with progress, it is now becoming a dinosaur and soon will be a thing of the past.  Not only television, but the internet as well can provide us with information of what is happening around the world or in our own locale.  We are informed of community events and celebrations much faster than waiting for the newspaper to be delivered to our door.

It is a shame to see the demise of an important part of our lives, as it also takes away something else.  The reporters who find the words to write their stories, to give us a vivid picture in words only, will also be a part of history.  It is the last vestige of our communications via the written word and one day it will be gone forever.

For more information about The Scoop, visit my website at www.writer43.webs.com

From the Front Porch Rocking Chair

I don't think it is my age that is drawing me to that rocking chair on the front porch as much as I seem to just find more enjoyment in sitting there watching the world go by in my neck of the woods.  I always enjoy going out early on a cool spring or fall morning or even a rare cool summer morning to have my coffee and listen to the birds singing, or my cats scampering around the yard in a game of chase, or a neighbor out for a morning walk who waves and we exchange greetings.  There is just something about starting the day enjoying the surroundings and nature.

And the evenings are just as pleasant.  The children's voices can be heard as they play their games or ride their bikes up and down the street.  Living in a rural development on a lake always brings out the children and adults on their nightly "ride arounds" in their golf carts.  Some will stop and visit for a bit, while others wave as they make their way around the neighborhood to greet the other neighbors.

Sitting on the front porch in the evenings as the sun sets casting its last shadows on the houses and the trees gives off tones of yellow and gold which fades into the gray of night.  The cool breeze blowing is refreshing as the sounds of the day begin to quieten and only the night sounds of the cicadas and an occasional hoot of an owl is heard.  As the darkness settles, the dogs begin their nightly vigils barking at the shadows they see moving.

So the rocking chair on the front porch provides a haven, a comfort after a day of work or play.  I might be joined by a friend who has stopped by and often we sit there rocking and just enjoying the views before us, while other times we visit as if we haven't seen each other for years.

The rocking chair is a favorite with all who visit and for some reason, a rocking chair is our pacifier.  It calms us and relaxes us as we move back and forth keeping a rythym as if in music.  Perhaps it is the music for our bodies to unwind.

Tonight, my family went to see one of our favorite bands.  I could have gone but decided I would rather just have some time to myself.  I enjoy the peace and quiet and reflection from being by myself.  I can sit on the porch and let my mind wander through my memories and perhaps visit with a neighbor or old friend.  I enjoy being with the family, they make me feel young and tell me that I will never grow up.  I don't want too, either.  I may get older but I still feel young and that makes life interesting and fun.

So if you are in the neighborhood, stop by and pull up a chair.  The coffee pot is on and always time for visiting.

Welcome Chatty Lady as a new follower.  Join me in following her blog at Me, Myself and Who?

Writing fiction about a truth

Several years ago, we got word that a woman had committed suicide.  We knew this family very well as did my parents and other family members.  It came as such a shock as it was so unlike her.  At first, there was shock, then grief and then questions.  There were discussions as to why but no one had any answers.

At the time, my husband was a police officer and he had the opportunity to speak with an officer who was familiar with the case and he said at the time that it was a cover up and that the guy got away with murder.

Through the years, this has haunted me with several family members and a few friends who said it had to be true and that he would never do such a thing, while others insisted he could and he did.  The family were well known in their community and he was well liked and ran a business there.  His wife was well known and liked just as much so it was a terrible shock to everyone.

My husband was always after me to write the story but I only had the hear say of family and friends and after 30 years I wasn't even sure I could get any information from the local authorities, especially since they had classified it a Suicide.

But I tried.  I contacted the local police and was told that about three years before they had purged a lot of the old files that were in storage and he couldn't promise me they would have any files on the case.  I was disappointed until a week later I received a call from the Police chief.

He told me, he didn't know why the files had been kept but in looking over them, he thought they didn't do investigations back in the 70's like the do today.  I think it was the tone of his voice that made me think that he had a lot of questions too and that maybe something just wasn't right.

He sent me copies of everything that had been kept with a note that perhaps they hadn't been purged because someone thought they might uncover some new information.

As we read through the reports, I knew in my heart that it wasn't a suicide but there wasn't anything to really prove otherwise.  The man was very clever and being so well known and liked, he was able to avoid an autopsy and later won a battle against her family to have the body exhumed and examined.

I can't only blame him, I put some of the blame on the authorities for not following up.  There were some clues and one officer who was at the crime scene, and it was a crime, was very adament in his reports of how he felt and I found out later that he had been let go from the department for some little infraction.  Again I think the authorities knew but didn't do anything and they managed to get rid of anyone who questioned the death.

So I sat down and began to write a story.  It is a fiction story but it is based on this particular crime.  I changed the name, the locations and the life style of those involved since the family still lives in the area and I didn't want to bring the memories back or cause pain to them.

In writing Suicide or Murder, I had to search deep into my soul to try not to be biased.  It was hard to do and I hope that I was able to make people wonder and think about it.  I know there is some bias coming through but I also tried to leave some doubt.  It isn't much as the police reports didn't leave much doubt.  The only doubt came from those who were involved and claimed they were right and there was no wrong doing.

If I am right, the man did get away with murder.  And at this time, the only one who really knows the truth is God and if he is guilty, he will be judged by a higher being than man on earth.

For more information about Suicide or Murder, please visit my website at  www.writer43.webs.com

The Lewis House Saga

I think this novel, my second one, is probably one of my best storytelling novels.  One day I recalled an old house that was across the street from where we lived.  As I thought about that old house, the muse inside me started working and I sat down to start writing.

As I continued, I allowed the muse to have her way and soon was an entrenched in this story as if someone were telling me.  I had so much fun writing this story and allowing my imagination and of course, my muse, to tell such a fantasy that it is one that can be enjoyed by everyone.


The Lewis House Saga

     When Amy Lewis learns that she has inherited an old house, she is bewildered.  Her sister was given the house they grew up in as well as a sizable inheritance, while she was only given a small amount and the deed to a house she didn't even know about.
     And when she sees the house, her heart is broken.  She always felt her father blamed her for causing her mother's death at her birth and now she knew she had been right.  The old house in its neglected and broken down state would cost a small fortune to repair.  It certainly wasn't worth anything in its current condition.
     Her Aunt Tillie who had gone to live in a nursing home told her, "There are some things in the attic of your house that you and your sister need to share."
     As Amy got permission from her sister, Abigail, to go back to the house and look in the attic, she finds old paintings of her great, great grandparents, an old doll house that she recognized as being a replica of the house she had inherited and some old trunks.   Abigail wants no part of any of it and tells Amy to take it all, but just get rid of it.
     Amy takes it and moves it to the house that is hers now.  As she starts cleaning and trying to fix it up to sell, she hires a landscape company to come take care of the overgrown yard.  Surprise after surprise comes as they find a beautiful old fountain in the back yard that has been boarded up, along with flower beds that were overgrown and dead but had been quite beautiful in their day.
     The old house also begins to show some more of its secrets as Amy investigates farther.  But still she knows it would be to costly to fix it up and decides she will sell.
     One of the landscapers is an young man, Jack Murphy, who wants to be an architect and he sees the value of the old house if it was restored and talks Amy into keeping it and he would help her.
     Aunt Tillie is quite happy that she has decided to keep it and helps her as well.
     Amy works hard on the old house and at the same time, finds out that she is falling in love with Jack.  But with her sister, Abigail and her husband, Lawrence, try to intervene in Amy's business with the house and Lawrence's persistence in pursuing Amy, a wall divides the two sisters causing friction and trouble in the family.
     Jack restores the old fountain which is magical to Amy as she has discovered the identity of the paintings and that she is a namesake of her great, great grandmother, Ami Lewis, who ascended from royalty.
     Just as with the magical fountain, the treasures in the attic bring happiness to Amy and Jack and reveal surprise after surprise - from their wedding day up to the day Aunt Tillie reveals the secrets of the old house.


This is a story of love, determination, inner strength and a bond with family and history.  It follows the Lewis family from the turn of the century to present day.

For more information about this novel, which is in limited supply until May of 2012 when it will be republished again, you can visit my website at  www.writer43.webs.com

NOTE:  Due to several requests, I wrote a sequel to The Lewis House Saga and published The Lewis Family in 2009.  It gives more detail about the family and the Lewis House.  For more information please visit my website.

 

Storytelling and Storytellers

Last weekend during my weekly visit with my mother via my cell phone, we touched on the subject of storytelling.  She has told me so much about my grandmother, her mother, and how she used to sit to tell stories to her as well as her brothers and sisters. 

My mother was the 5th girl in a family of 12.  There were 8 girls and 4 boys.  And they lived in an era which was more primitive.

My grandmother was born in 1896, long before homes had electricity or running water or even indoor bathrooms.  When she married and started her family, they settled in rural southwest Iowa on a farm.  There was no electricty or running water for several years.  She used an old wood stove to cook on and even I can remember as a child that she continued to cook on that old stove even after they had electricity.  It was a part of her way of life and one that was hard for her to change, but she did eventually learn to cook on a gas stove.

My grandfather finally ran a pipe from the well into the house and installed a hand pump so that they could have water in the house and not have to carry it, especially during the winter months.  I can remember seeing that old pump and the wash basin that sat beneath it.  It was the only source of water, so pans were filled for cooking, water pitchers were filled for drinking and of course it was the area where we all had to wash our hands and get our faces washed.  And of course pails were filled so water could be heated for the weekly bath in the old round wash tub.

But with no electricity, they had no television of course, as it was years later before television came to the area.  But they didn't have a radio either.  So what to do on those long evenings.  During the summer, everyone would go outside and the children could play their games of tag or hide and seek or whatever they decided on.  My grandparents would sit and watch and as darkness came and would tell the children it was time to go inside. 

Living on a farm, it was the old adage, "early to bed and early to rise."  There were chores to be done before school or even play, plus the fact with that many people trying to get ready to go to school, eat their breakfast and get chores done, they had to be up early.

My grandmother would on occasion during the warmer months tell a story, something she had just made up.  She never knew what it might be, just an idea or something she had seen and the story would begin with no outline of a beginning, middle or ending.  It became a story with its own life as her mind worked and the magic began.  Sometimes they were funny stories, sometimes they were scary stories and sometimes they were just stories.  But with each one, there was a subtle lesson, maybe not one that everyone noticed at the time, but later they would remember something about that story and knew she was also trying to teach them something about life as well.

During the winter months, it was about the only entertainment they had unless they played cards which was hard with that many around.  So her storytelling went on for years while her family grew up.  No one really knew where she got the ability as her own mother never was a story teller.  It could have been just her motherly way of making her large family of children be quiet and still for awhile, but for whatever reason, she always had their attention.

I remember as a young child, my mother always did a lot of reading to my brother and myself but there were times when all at once she would start telling us a story.  Generally it was when we were on a long trip or maybe just a lazy afternoon but it was a bonding time with her as well and we would sit still as she wove her story.

We did have a radio but we still liked to hear the stories my mother would tell us.  Later when we got our first television, the story telling got lost as not only did we have the radio, but now we could actually see a picture on the little box in our living room. 

So when my own daughters were born, I often found myself telling them little stories, about their pets or maybe about something that one of them had done.  Again, without thinking of what I would say, the words would come and again a subtle lesson would be there, just as it had been with my grandmother and my mother. 

As my own daughters grew, I began to write down my stories for them.  I had always loved to write anyway and this gave me another way to tell my stories but also keep them for the day when they would grow up and might want to read them again.

My mother told me the biggest regret she had was that she couldn't remember all the stories she'd heard, but she could remember parts of them and she wished she had written them down years ago while they were fresh in her mind.  She is 90 years old now and can remember some of the stories that she told my brother and I but not all.  I am not that old but I can only remember a part of them as well.  But I think the biggest memory is sitting with her and listening as she told the story, capturing our attention until we were pulled into it and it became real for a while.

Storytellers and storytelling have been around for eons.  It was the only way history could be passed down or for families to know about their ancestors.  It is an art, one which I think we all are capable of, but there are a few who can make the art more exciting, capturing our attention and keeping us still while we visualize in our own minds what they are telling us. 

I am grateful to my mother and grandmother of teaching me this art.  Without their storytelling, I might not ever have discovered my imagination and the ability to dream or just to tell a story for enjoyment and pleasure.  To me, storytelling is so rewarding.  It is a sharing of events or people and a good story can leave such an impact on someone's life or maybe just a pleasant memory.

I am a Storyteller.  I try to tell a story with each of my writings that entertain, inform or question.  I also have a subtle lesson, mostly one of family values and the caring and sharing they give to each other.  But there is also a lesson of being independent, a desire to succeed and to face life's problems and to survive.

To me, my writing is more than just publishing a book.  I am telling a story.  There is no beginning, middle or end when I start.  I have an idea and the story evolves as it moves along taking on a life of its own, just as the stories that were told by my grandmother and mother.  I don't analyze it as to why I write it or compare it to someone else, it is my story and it is the way I tell it.  That is what makes storytelling so exciting.  We never know what will be said or written next, so it is an adventure.  Storytelling can take us away into magical lands or into space or wherever the storyteller goes.  We can live in the past, visit the future or maybe just laugh at what we do today.

I hope one day as my own grandchildren grow that they will read my stories and be entertained or give them memories that perhaps might make them become storytellers too.

A Time For Change

     A Time For Change is the second book and my first novel that I published in 2004.  The original title was New Beginnings but the publisher said there was a conflict since they already had a book with that title, so a new title was assigned and a few changes made and a new copyright was obtained.
     The story came about after a teacher I knew invited me to speak to her class about my first book.  She was instrumental is giving me some pointers about teachers and their training which really helped.  It also was about a young friend of mine who was going through some rough times, so the idea combined both women and soon the muse took over and the story progressed.

     Karen Crossett was at a crossroads.  At age 29, she felt stifled in the teaching position and she needed something new and exciting in her life.  After the death of her parents, she only had her domineering brother and sister who thought they had to protect her as well as guide her in their way of thinking.
     Karen wanted to get a way, but with no money to travel, she envisioned a summer vacation at the family cabin at the lake.  It would give her the chance to think and decide what she really wanted to do with her life.  It would also give her the chance to show her brother, Ken and sister, Julie, that she could take care of herself without their help and advice.
     Upon arrival she knew something wasn't right when she met a man at the cabin, at first she thought he was a stranger but then came to realize he was a childhood acquaintance.  There was something suspicious about Mark and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.  He was very attentive and helpful as she settled into the cabin for the summer.
     Ken kept telling her she had to leave the cabin but wouldn't give her a reason and by accident she discovered he was trying to sell it to Mark.  She got angry with her brother and told him she wouldn't let him sell the cabin.  They had a fight and Ken left.
     When word came that Ken had suffered a heart attack, Karen immediately went to him but he was gone.  The stress and strain and the knowledge that they had spoken harshly to one another made Karen feel as if she were responsible for his heart attack and she changed her mind about staying at the cabin.
     She had to go back to get her things and Mark talked her into staying.  As he gradually began to move into her life, Karen had mixed emotions, not really trusting him since he had made an agreement with her brother and yet she liked being with him.
     When Karen has a terrible accident, Mark wants to help her but a misunderstanding makes her run back to her home and to the arms of her old boyfriend who has moved on.  Karen is alone again until Mark comes to her and shows her the truth about Ken and how she can keep the cabin.
    Karen's life would turn upside down and she met obstacles she never dreamed of, but she found an inner strength to tackle those obstacles and the achieve the goals she had set for herself, but most of all she found an ever lasting love.


A Time For Change is a fictional story.  It is a roller coaster of emotions with romance, intrigue and mystery.  At this time, A Time For Change is in limited supply and will not be republished with the current publisher.  It is scheduled for republishing after April 2011 with a new publisher.  For more information, please go to my website at www.writer43.webs.com

Cassie's Clearing

In my mind, I could see the big black cat sitting in the middle of a clearing in the woods.  The night was dark with only the light of the moon which shown down between the tree branches.  The cats were all lying or sitting around the circle as Cassie told them the purpose of the clearing.

SPRING
The Clearing

      The moon cast its bright light on the clearing.  It was a warm balmy spring night and the stillness was intensified by the moonlight as well as the tree frogs.  The clearing was fairly large surrounded by a lot of brush and bushes and a few trees had heavy vines growing up the side of them making a thicket at the bottom, providing hiding places.
     Cassie was asleep under the bush she had made into her den, away from the clearing but with a good view.  Suddenly she heard a noise, she perked up her ears and peered out onto the clearing.  She remained still waiting for whatever was out there to come  into view.  She listened, twitching her ears and kept her eyes on the clearing.  Something was approaching.  She crouched down with eyes and ears on the alert.  She began to sniff the air to try to catch a scent of whatever was out there.
     Then she saw it, a shape which she recognized as being like her, but unknown to her.  The shape moved slowly into the clearing, stopping to look around and Cassie saw that it was a cat and then she saw two smaller shapes behind the cat and realized that it was a mother cat and her kittens.  She heard the soft mew of the mother coaxing the kittens to hurry along.
     At first, Cassie thought if she was very still the strange cat and her kittens would keep on going.  She watched as the cat began moving into the clearing, mewing to the kittens to stay by her side.  Her pace began to pick up and Cassie thought, good, she will keep going with those kittens.
     Cassie was getting to old to mess with kittens, they cried a lot and wanted to run all over and play and bother the other cats and especially her.  Not that she didn't like kittens, she had eight of her own through the years but now she wanted the peace and quiet she had found here in the clearing.
     But it was to late, the strange cat with her kittens had awakened the rest of the cats in the clearing.....
     As Bear, Cassie's brother, and the other cats woke up to see what was going on, the strange cat was frightened and told her kittens to run for cover.  She apologized for disturbing them and asked if she and her kittens could sleep by a log near the clearing.

The First Day

     As Marcy, the strange female who had come into the clearing, was preparing to leave with her kittens the next morning, she was accosted by Cassie.....
     Cassie wanted to know why Marcy and her two young kittens were wandering around and asked if she was by herself.  When told why they were running away from the farm they had left and were scared, Cassie agrees to let them stay long enough to rest up.
     She explained the clearing was for those who sought shelter but that they all worked together and got along without fighting or bothering one another.  The clearing was a safe haven for those who needed a place to live in peace and harmony.

The Story

      As the story progresses, Marcy and her kittens are allowed to stay and soon learn the rules that Cassie has made and makes friends with the other cats who also live in the clearing.  This story shows how the cats work together to protect each other from the elements, the dangers of the prey that seeks them out and how they become a family.
      The cats have their own celebration, called Social.  The Social was a special time when all the cats gathered together in the clearing to visit and enjoy the company of each other.  Often they would have visitors from outside the clearing so they met up with old friends and family.  It was a joyous time.
     They also learned how to defend themselves and to look out for each other.  And it was Cassie who made sure it all happened.

If you would like to learn more about Cassie's Clearing, please visit my website: www.writer43.webs.com

What is Cassie's Clearing?

I've been asked so many times how I became a writer or why do I write.  I only know that from the time I could really put words on paper, I have loved to write.  I could express my feelings and write down something that was meaningful, maybe to me or to the family.  I wrote short stories while in school about our vacations, I wrote poems and essays and even after I had a family of my own, I would write little poems for the holidays or little short stories for my two daughters.  I never did anything with them, although my family were always after me to pursue a writing career.  I just enjoyed doing it.  I had a vivid imagination and as the years passed by  I allowed that imagination to come out more and more.

I went through a few years where I didn't do much writing at all.  To busy working or had other interests but in 1995 my husband and I bought a farm in southwest Arkansas and it wasn't long until my muse arrived.

When we first moved there, we didn't have a lot of cats, a few around the poultry houses and then when I discovered two kittens in one of them, I took them up to the house so I would have some outdoor kitties.  I had a cat in the house at the time, Silver Anne, my Persian, but I wanted kitties outdoors too.  Then a neighbor gave me a kitten they had rescued from the side of the road and before long, I had a lot of kitties outdoors.

One of the kittens I had taken from the poultry house grew into a big black cat who was as gentle as anything.  The kitten that had been rescued grew into a loving gray cat.  Dusky and Nancy were the start of many kittens to come.

Dusky was the best daddy of all and evidently his patience and personality was a trait that was passed down.    It is well known that tom cats do not like little baby kittens but not Dusky.  He never once showed any tendency to harm them and as they grew would often lie in the yard allowing them to crawl all over him or play with his tail.  Nancy was a good mother too and it wasn't uncommon to see Nancy and Dusky lying together with their little family running around playing.  And of course with my imagination, I visualized them as real like people.

Dusky and Nancy produced several litters and often we would have anywhere from a dozen or more kittens or cats around.  We used them in our own poultry houses or gave them to other farmers so we could control them.  It would have been fruitless for us to have them spayed or neutered as the life expectancy wasn't that great for them, so we or I should say, I started a cat business.

Dusky just disappeared one day and Nancy was really lost without her partner.  She reproduced with other cats in the area but the trademark of most of my cats were they were all black cats.  Occasionally I would have a yellow one or a tabby but most were black, some with white, others solid.  Nancy was a soft gray color and her fur was as soft as velvet.  It was thick but not really long.  Dusky was a short hair as well, but occasionally I would have a long haired cat and one of those cats was one that I called Cassie.  Actually her mother was a black and white spotted cat that was one of the first kittens born on the property and later disappeared as many of them did.

With the presence of coyotes who ran through our fields at night, the cats would often be caught out alone and sometimes we would find their remains but often we didn't, yet we suspected they had been caught by the coyotes or perhaps a wild dog that sometimes would wander through the area.

We'd been on the farm for over two years when I went back to work.  During that time I didn't do any writing but I still had my kitties.  When I quit working full time in 2000, I helped my husband around the farm and an idea kept popping into my head.  I would dream about it, or it would come to me as I was working around the house.

One day I mentioned it to my husband, thinking he would laugh at me for wanting to write a story about Cassie and the cats.  But he didn't and in fact, he encouraged me to do so.  I first started writing it in long hand and after going through two tablets, I got the idea that the computer would be better and so I began to re write the story and add to it.

At the time, we had 25 cats living on the farm, either near the house or around the poultry houses or even at my daughter's home as she had moved a trailer onto the property.  I had every cat named that was around the house and knew each one, even though most were black, they each had a special look or something so I knew who they were.

Our farm was surrounded on three sides by a pine forest and there were areas that had little clearings scattered through out.  There was one not to far from our house and I would watch the cats as they would wander off that way to go hunting or play or whatever they did.  And during this time, I noticed one long haired black female cat that I named Cassie seemed to have taken over and kept the cats in line.  Nancy had disappeared the winter before and it was a few months before we discovered her remains which saddened me.  But I think Cassie was her replacement as Nancy had been the matriarch and now Cassie had taken on that roll.

With that many cats, we didn't have cat fights or problems.  It was common to go outside and as I called it, "see a carpet of cats".  They would by lying in a group, some sleeping, some just watching and of course there were always kittens playing in and around them.  The adults didn't seem to mind the antics of the kittens and I could hear the mothers with their soft mews get after them if they got to rowdy or were bothering another cat.  It was funny to watch as the mother cats would mew their own sound to get the attention of their offspring and take them off to teach them hunting skills.

The story was written but I didn't know what I was going to do with it.  I told my husband and family about it and gave them a short version and they all told me I had to publish it.  I searched the internet looking for a publishing company and ended up with a small publisher that I paid to publish the book for me and I bought copies to sell.

I was so proud of myself but more important, my family was proud of me and encouraged me to keep writing.
And of course, I did and I haven't stopped yet.  Please read my next blog entry as I give you some insight to Cassie's Clearing and how the cats lived there.

Remembrance

September 11, 2001.

It is a day that we will remember for a very long time, just as we, along with our parents and grandparents, remember December 7, 1941.

It is a day when each one of us felt a personal attack by a foreign country that jeopardized our freedom and most of all our security.  The loss of lives is beyond comprehension.  How anyone can purposely attack another nation and destroy lives without any regret or remorse is beyond our imaginations.  As a nation who promotes peace and strives for freedom for all, we are not accustomed to this kind of life.  We can't imagine anyone who is so filled with hate and jealousy, yes it has to be jealousy, for them to hate us as they do.  They are the lowest form of life on this earth and one day they will know the evil of their ways.

I remember September 11 and the horrors that unfolded before my eyes.  First it was disbelief, that it was a horrible accident and then as time moved on, very slowly, it seemed, the realization that it was intentional came into focus and my eyes were seeing but the mind was not believing that anything this horrible could be happening.

My husband and I had a poultry farm in southwest Arkansas and he had gone to get things ready so we could do the early morning egg pickup.  I was watching the Today show on TV when they broke away with a news flash that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.  As Matt Lauer continued talking and they were getting the information, the helicopter filming the place where the first plane hit, saw the second plane coming in and it was unreal, as if we were watching a movie, but it was real as I sat there along with the commentators on the Today show and the surprise and shock I experienced was reflected in their disbelief and words as they said, "A plane has just hit the World Trade Center and now another has hit the second tower."  Speculation began as they continued to try to get the facts.

My husband came in and I immediately told him, "I don't know what is going on, but two planes have crashed into the World Trade Center towers in New York."  He came in and stood there watching as I sat in my chair watching and listening as we heard the fateful words that the planes had been hijacked and flown into the towers.

We looked at each other and couldn't believe what we had heard but then they showed it again and again and it soon sunk in.  We had been attacked.  People had been killed on those planes from the hijackers, people were dying in the towers as the flames engulfed the upper floors.

The reports kept coming in and then a second report of a third plane that had hit the Pentagon.  Pictures were shown where it had hit and reporters were trying to find out how much damage and how many fatalities.

Just when we thought it couldn't be worse, the report came over our TV about another plane that had been destined for the White House but was in Pennsylvania and had gone down.  We later learned that several brave men aboard the plane had overtaken the terrorists and those at the control of the plane and it had crashed.  They were heroes in the giving up their lives so that they could do no more damage.  God was with each and every one on that plane as it went down and the sorrow of knowing they had given so much so that others would be safe is over whelming even to this day.  They knew they were doomed and selfishly gave up their lives for the safety of others.

We did our chores and returned to our TV to witness another horror as the towers began to fall.  When we thought we had seen it all, we never dreamed that it would destroy the buildings and take more lives, those who were there to help and to save lives.  Our brave firemen and police, clergy, paramedics and volunteers as well as those who were trapped inside all lost their lives that day.

For days, the images filled our television screens as the reports continued to come in.  Who the terrorist were and where they were from and the lists kept growing from those who had lost their lives due to this attack on us.

It has been nine years since that attack and I can still see the image in my mind.  I don't need to go look at the photos taken during and later, as they have been etched there and will always be there.  My tears fall and my heart aches just as they did on that fateful day when so many innocent lives were lost.

Perhaps the impact of this attack which was violent in its own, but being broadcast to millions through their televisions as well as the actual spectators who were there and could see it happening right before them is the reason it is so poignant and can be remembered.

I wasn't born when Japan attacked us in 1941 but I can remember listening to my mother, father and grandparents, aunts and uncles who were old enough and listened to the fateful broadcast on the radio that Sunday.  Again, it was one of disbelief.  With no visible pictures, they could only imagine in their minds as the radio reports came over the wires with descriptions of what happened at Pearl Harbor.  It was a "Day of Infamy" until September 11, 2001 when we had another "Day of Infamy."

Until our government realizes that we do have enemies and that we can not tread lightly, we will have more attacks.  We have sent our men and women in uniform to fight these terrorists but our Congress drug their feet in giving them the materials and equipment that they needed.  During World War II, when this country rose up against Japan, we had everything we needed for our fighting men and women to go into battle.  Most of all, we had the full support of our government as well as the people.

The people rallied around after September 11 as well but it was different.  We didn't have to build ships or planes to fight our enemy but we should have made sure our military did have what they needed when they went into battle.    They should have had the support of all Americans and those who opposed the war should be tried for treason against their country.

A sense of patriotism swept the nation immediately following the attack but it soon died down and the flags came down and people didn't talk about what happened, but what was going on in Iraq and why were we there if we weren't doing any good.    They couldn't see that our military was fighting every day to rid the area of the evil war mongers who ran for cover and were being protected by those who sympathized with them.  Our hands were tied until they came out into the open and then restrictions were placed on them.  Where was our support?

We all remember every September 11th and we honor those who lost their lives but until the evil is destroyed, it can happen again.  When we remember this date, we should also remember that we have to fight to keep this freedom and peace we have strived for.  If we don't, then all the lives lost on this date were in vain.  We cannot let the enemy win.

So we will remember but we should also learn and be prepared so that no enemy will ever be able to attack us again.   God Bless America and God Bless her people.

Thoughts for Today

My muse has been lazy the past couple of days so I haven't been here to post my thougths.  However, I managed to get her to work for a bit yesterday as the idea that has been floating around for days finally started coming to life on paper.

We had some rainy weather and I was sure the muse would want to work but no, it just wouldn't come out to play, so to speak.  But every night, it was there teasing and tormenting as the thoughts flew by while trying to find sleep.

I should be catching up on some of the work I had planned around here, but when the muse is in this playful mood, it is hard for me to concentrate on anything but what she is dangling in front of me.  So if she decides not to play today, I'll start on another project.  She is jealous when I devote my thoughts to another direction so it may make her come out to help me write down these thoughts she so cleverly puts in front of me in pieces, like a jig saw puzzle and I am to put it all together.  Actually when she feels like working, we make quite a team.  She is there with all these exciting tidbits and I am at my keyboard putting it all together until it makes sense and then we can sit back and look at it, fix it where it needs it or continue on looking for what lies ahead of us and what excitement or drama we can discover.

For now, it seems it is just my muse and me enjoying our little chats here, but I'm hoping as time goes on, that more will join us and comment or maybe contribute as I would love to share some of my friend's work or comments.

Today is Friday, and I saw a post on FaceBook that tickled me and I thought how appropriate.  Someone wrote a letter to Dear Week, explaining that they were leaving for Weekend and it wasn't their fault or was it.  It got my attention as so many times we face the beginning of the week all full of hope and promise but by Friday we either have forgotten or have put it behind us as we look forward to the weekend.  The weekend holds a promise too.  Sleep, fun, parties, travel, shopping and so much more.  Why is it we pack so much to do in such a short time and then when Monday comes along, we grudgingly go back to work facing the week with determination to make it through to the next weekend?

When I was sixteen, a wise old man told me, "Time goes faster as you get older, so slow down and enjoy each day as it comes.  Tomorrow will be here soon enough and once it is gone, you only have yesterday."  Very good advice and I have tried but I know that I get anxious and push the time while I wait for a special day or event.

Now, that I am older, not sure how much wiser, but at least I'm older and I am retired, I have a lot of time to reflect and some days go very slow for me, while others speed by like they are in a race.  I try to take each day and make it special in some way so I don't waste time or hurry time but to enjoy it as it comes.

As a parent and now a grandparent, I think I view time in a different light.  I stop to think that it doesn't seem like it was that many years ago that I was young and had my first child and now she is grown and has a full grown child of her own.  I look at my grandchildren, watching them grow up and wonder how quickly the time can go as they seem to be babies one day and young people the next.

There is no magic potion for time so we can't slow it down or speed it up.  We can only take it and make the best of it while we have it right now.  Maybe we all need to slow down and smell the roses, but I wonder if even that would slow time.  I think we should just enjoy the time we have a little more than being in such a hurried and frenzied mode, looking for that next break time that we can do what we want, when we want and how we want.

Just a few of my thoughts for today.  Now, I'm off to find that muse to see if she wants to work or if she is busy looking for that free time.  Writers don't have the option at times to have much free time.  When the muse and writer team up, they can work for hours or days and really don't care about time or breaks.  They are on a mission and until the mission is accomplished, they are hard at it, forgetting time, forgetting play and sometimes even forgetting sleep.

Rain, Rain, Beautiful Rain

This summer has been one of the hottest we have had in years as well as very dry.  The triple digit temperatures and hot sun literally dried up the earth and turned the green grass brown as well as affecting the trees, flowers and shrubs.

No matter how much water we used, the sandy soil here only acted as a heater boiling the roots below the ground and actually cooking away the shrubs and flowers.

Each time we thought we might get some rain, it seemed to veer off into another direction missing us.  It was as if someone had placed a bubble over this area and we couldn't get it to burst.

But yesterday, that bubble burst as we received over 2 inches of the most beautiful rain.  It rained off and on overnight and has been that way today.  I sang a little song all day yesterday, "it's raining, it's raining and I'm not complaining."  Even Ms Kitty and Shadow appreciated it as it also meant that I could open the doors so they could look outside.

The cooler temperature that accompanied the rain is very welcome as well.  Getting fresh air into the house and being able to cut the air conditioner is grand.

Today, I managed to slip in between the heavier showers and go to town to do my weekly shopping.  I had some light rain, but it wasn't bad and I didn't have to use the insulated bags to get the refrigerator and freezer things home.

Now, I can sit back and relax and watch as the rain falls ever so softly, bringing life back into the grass and what flowers have survived.  I can sleep through the night as the soft drops fall outside lulling me into a peaceful and deep sleep.  Yes, it is a beautiful rain and just a start for the beginning of Fall.

Taking down a portable pool.

Earlier this summer, my daughter bought a portable soft sided pool.  It was 15 ft. across and 3 1/2 ft. deep.  Not a big one, but enough to get cooled off and float on the lounges.

It was fun figuring out how to get it laid out and then of course, it took a while to fill it.  We put the ladder together, hooked up the filter system and by the 4th of July it was in full operation and we were enjoying it.

But along, comes fall with its cool nights and not as warm days so it was time to take it down.  Now, how hard can it be to take down a pool.  I mean, you drain the water, dry it and fold it up.  Right?   Wrong!

It took almost as long to drain it as it did to fill it.  We opened the drain yesterday morning and it drained all day and night so by this morning, there was only a little bit on the bottom which was below the drain hole which was on the side.

She got in it and using her sponge mop, push the remaining water towards the drain while I tried lifting to get it to go towards the drain.  It was hard work for her pushing all the water and my back was killing me from all the stooping to push down so the water would drain or the lifting to try to get it to go out.

I got the bright idea that we should grab the top of it and pull it over on itself until we had it upside down.  Good idea and it was working until we had about half the pool waist high and a gust of wind caused it to bellow out and I thought we were going para sailing for a moment.

It startled both of us and then all we could do was laugh.  She thought it was really funny when I said, "I thought you were going to have to help me get down out of the tree."

But we tried again, fighting the wind which kept trying to catch it and send us all flying.  But our mission was accomplished as we got it turned upside down and got all the water out.  Then we flipped it back so she could wash it all down with bleach water.

Round and round we went with me lifting the sides so she could wipe them down and when we finished, we were going to rinse it but then would have the water drainage problem so decided we would just flip it again.

This time, we remembered and tried to keep it low enough so the wind couldn't grab it and pull it and us along with it.

We flipped it back and straightened it out as much as we could and left it to dry in the sunshine and with the wind we had today, that helped too.

This evening we were going to fold it up and move it into the covered porch as we are to have rains come in this week and didn't want it filled with water again.  But it was kind of heavy and bunglesome so we folded it as much as we could and left it sitting in the middle of the undercloth that went under the pool.  So now we will wait for another nice warm sunny day when it can dry off and then we can refold it and move it inside for the winter.

Of course, whenever you do something silly or stupid like we did with the wind catching it and trying to make us airborne, we hoped no one had seen us.  But our dear friends and neighbors were enjoying their morning coffee on their front porch and had seen it all.

Later, I went over to talk to them and he told me, "I thought for a minute that I was going to have to rescue you and Melanie from the tree.  I thought you were going to go kite flying."   HA! HA!  Although he was right and we even laughed at ourselves.

So now we know how to set the pool up and we learned how to take it down.  Maybe next year, we will be able to do it a little more efficiently and won't be sailing off into the tree tops.

This is how it looked when we got it filled and ready for use.  I didn't take a picture of it as we emptied it.  But I think we will remember and the first thing we'll do is not pick a windy day to empty the pool.

When Will The Tears Stop?

Today my daughter and I went to the cemetery to visit my husband's site.  We didn't get to go for the 4th of July as we had hoped my younger daughter and grandchilden would be here so we could all go and they didn't come and we didn't get to go.  I could have gone by myself but was busy with things around here and didn't but I was determined that after the long hot spell we had in late July and for the month of August that I would go up on the first cool day we had.

So today, the day before Labor Day, we made the trip.  It is always hard on us when we go but for some reason, today was especially hard for me.  I almost didn't go as I wasn't sure I could but I did and now I'm glad.  The tears are still flowing as I think about him but I imagine they will continue to flow for a long time.

He wanted to see the military cemetery at Ft. Gibson after he found out about it, but because of his chemo treatments and the illness they caused, he never got the opportunity to actually go see it in person.  I know he would have been delighted to know that would be our final resting place. 

It is kept up meticulously and when you drive in through the wrought iron gates, you immediately feel the reverance there.  Looking across the field of perfectly placed stones, a lump comes to the throat as you know each and every stone has its own story, one of the brave man or woman who died during battle in defending our country or later as a veteran of serving his or her country.  You can't help but feel the pride and wish that you could honor each and every one of them there for what they have given.  It truly is a place of honor.

When we found out my husband's cancer had returned with "a vengence" as the doctor told him, it was shock beyond belief.  He'd been doing so well with good checkups every three months and then to have this smack us out of the blue was almost beyond belief or comprehension.  It turned our lives upside down and inside out and we started on a roller coaster that we knew would crash but not when.

It was late October, 2009 when we got the diagnosis that the Melanoma had spread into the liver and spleen and lymph glands around the esophagus.  He'd had surgery to remove the lymph glands in his left groin in April of 2008 and they took all of them in hopes that they had got it all and it was over, but there was one tiny, microscopic cell that must have escaped and found its way to the liver where it hid in the folds, undetected until it had divided and spread taking over.

He started chemo the first of November 2009 going every two weeks for a week at a time.  At first it wasn't to bad but then as the chemo began working, the pain grew and only morphine would help.  As the dosage of morphine increased, he began losing his sense of time and had to be reminded of the simplest things, when it was time to eat or take his medicine or even to go to bed, although he gradually took to his bed, a rare thing for a very active man to lie down, almost as if he had given up.  He hadn't as he was still fighting but the medicines were taking over now, controlling him and he couldn't stop them.

In December, he spent a week in the VA hospital due to a blood clot.  He came home for the weekend only to have to go back to start a week of Chemo and was in a weakened condition so that he shuffled when he walked as he felt his legs and feet were to heavy to lift. 

On Christmas day, he got up and came out to the living room to unwrap the gifts he had and watched as we unwrapped ours as my daughter and grandson were here with us.  But then he told us he wanted to go lie down.  He had looked at his gifts and laid them on the table next to his chair and never held them again. 

The only time he would leave his bed was to eat, go take his medicine or go to the bathroom.  The rest of the time he slept or would lie there listening to the TV in the other room or visiting with me, his daughter who had moved next door to us or on occasion when a friend would stop by.  He never got out of the bed even to visit as he felt sick when he did.

We knew our time was short but didn't know how short and on New Year's Eve, he got up to come out to the dining room to wish us a happy new year and then right back to his bed. 

It is the most helpless feeling a person can have when they see their loved one slowly fading away and there is nothing that they can do.  Just be there for them, hold their hand, talk to them and give them all the encouragement to keep fighting and positive thoughts.

It was the second week in January and he rallied around some.  A long time friend from Arkansas had driven over to see him and he did sit up for a little bit but then laid down and he and John sat in the bedroom to have a long visit.  My husband was awake and very talkative and seemed to be a little better.  The next day he seemed even a little more stronger, getting up to see what was going on with the trailer being set up for our daughter.  I had my hair done and he remarked how he liked it and that it looked nice and that evening he even ate some solid food as said he was hungry.

The evening was pleasant and he was in a good mood.  He got a good nights sleep and awoke the next morning getting up to fix some breakfast of toast and some of his homemade jelly.  For lunch he requested some left over from the night before and ate a good helping but within an hour, he became violently ill and when we got him settled down, he went to sleep.

Seeing him sleeping and hearing his snoring, my daughter and I decided to let him sleep the rest of the afternoon and when I went to wake him at 6:00 PM, he was gone.  He had slipped peacefully away in his sleep without a final good bye or hug but he was at peace.

I cried, I felt I was in a bad nightmare and begged him not to leave me, not just yet as I wasn't ready to let him go.  I don't think I would have ever been ready to let him go, but to have him go so quickly was unbelieveable and for days I lived in a bubble, not really noticing what was going on around me.  I had my daughter and grandson here with me but I felt alone.

I've been to the cemetery several times and each time, the tears come and stay with me.  I know they are tears for me and my loss as I know he isn't in pain, he is at peace but it hurts to know I will never hear is voice, see his face or feel his arms around me.  I try not to cry and to be strong but the pain inside won't let me.  I ask, why he had to leave us so soon.  It wasn't fair.  We had so much to talk about and we wanted more time.  We wanted to say a proper good bye.

We had over 48 years of marriage and living and working together and it was gone just like that.  We had known each other for over 52 years having met as teenagers.  He was more than my husband, he was my friend and he was a part of me as I was a part of him.  One day we will be together again as he found out when he learned about the cemetery, that I will be there with him one day.  It gave him a peace knowing that we might be separated for a while but that we would be together again for eternity.  Maybe then, the tears will stop.

Yard Sale - Day Two

I was up early after a very good night's sleep but when I did get up, I felt the chill as fall is trying hard to make itself known.  I've been waiting for the cooler weather and hoped it would come on gradual and stay long enough so that we could enjoy it.

It was chilly most of the morning and then warmed up later in the day, but still comfortable and at least we didn't have that humidity and triple digit temperatures.

It was a strange day for being a Saturday as we didn't have the early shoppers and those who did come seem to come in groups.  We would have several and then no one.  But we did sell a lot more stuff.  However, we noticed a trend.  People were buying more wisely.  They bought the cheaper items and most were buying something they could use, either a household appliance or pans, dishes or clothes.  We did sell a few of our trinkets but not all.

One lady had towels and sheet sets and sold out.  Another had several household appliances and sold out.  I sold all my pans and a desk plus an old TV as well as a few smaller things.

Again, it was a fun day with friends who just happen to be my neighbors too.  We laughed and joked and just enjoyed the beautiful day.  Spike grilled hamburgers and hot dogs on the hickory grill and made his chili for the hot dogs so we enjoyed a nice lunch which also brought on the sleepiness, causing a discussion where we could find a shady spot under the big tree to take a nap.

I did have a good nights sleep so wasn't nearly as tired as I was yesterday.  When it appeared that we wouldn't have any more customers, we began to pack up the rest of our "stuff".  It is all put in the shed to remain until next spring when my thoughts will turn to having another yard sale, having forgotten the hard work to set them up and the hours spent sitting waiting for someone to buy that "junk" I have that will be a "treasure" to them.

Yard sale, garage sales, flea markets, it really makes no difference.  We are all out looking for that special thing that we just have to have and take it home to marvel over our wonderful find and great bargain.  That is all a part of the fun of the sale for the buyer and of course the seller is quite happy with the bonus they have made to sock away or to buy that special thing they've been after.  So, they will continue and we will continue to enjoy them and take home those treasures only to put them out one day for someone else to take home the new found treasure.

Yard Sale - Day One

My good friends and neighbors invited me to join them in having a yard sale.  They also invited his sister and another neighbor to join in so in all we had quite a variety plus a lot of stuff.

We had it all planned that we would set up the night before and be ready for the early bird shoppers the morning of the sale.  But Mother Nature decided to play games which meant that we had to rethink our strategy.  There were storms predicted with heavy rain, wind and possible hail so we knew that even if we had things under the cover of the carport, things could get blown away or wet so we piled everything into the adjoining garage and decided to get up early the morning of the sale to put everything out.

Thank goodness the weather wasn't as severe as predicted but we still would have had a problem with things getting wet had we set up.  So we were to get a good night's sleep since we wouldn't be up watching the weather.

No.  First, I couldn't get to sleep.  My mind went from thinking about what I had taken over to what remained to be taken in the morning to what else was I forgetting.  By the time I was able to go to sleep it was after midnight with the alarm set for 5:30.  But the inner alarm went off at 4:30 and I dozed for the next 45 minutes before getting up to shut off the alarm.  I was tired but I knew after a couple cups of coffee I would be awake and ready to go.

I fixed my coffee and got dressed.  Then it was time to feed the cats, inside and outside.  I fixed a thermos of coffee to take with me and filled my insulated cup to take as well.  Grabbing a couple of mini donuts, I was ready to gather up what I still needed to take over.  I stepped outside to feel the chill in the air from the cool front that moved through, so back inside to get a denim shirt to wear for warmth.  Now, I could be on my way.

It was dark as I headed the golf cart loaded with another box and a couple of large items I had delayed in taking over to my neighbors.  I could see the light was on in the garage and the gate was open.  I turned into the drive and headed for the carport.  I greeted two of the sellers as they came out of the house headed for the garage.

We discussed the storm from the night before and the much needed rain we had received while we drank a cup of coffee together.  They had fresh donuts but I declined at the time as I wanted to get started setting up.  It was after 6 AM and I knew there would be early shoppers out and about as daylight broke.

It didn't take as long as we thought as we moved out tables and unloaded our boxes with our unwanted stuff.  Then it was time to look over the other tables and do our own shopping for those items we just felt we had to have and couldn't live without. 

It was 7:30 AM when our first shopper arrived and we were still unpacking but had most of it out for the most part.  She walked around looking at everything and then walked away without making a purchase.  We stood and watched and hoped it wasn't a sign of what the day might bring.

But as the morning wore on, the sun came up on a gorgeous day with a heavenly clear blue sky and a gentle north breeze.  And the customers began to arrive, looking and searching for that hidden treasure they just had to have.  It wasn't long before the buying began and we watched as our treasures we no longer wanted left to find a new home and make someone happy.

We took turns fixing our sandwiches for our lunch while we waited on the customers who seemed to come in droves and naturally were there while we were trying to have our lunch.  After the lunch, the afternoon began to warm and the sleepiness began to sink in.  The short night before was taking its toll on us as we joked and moved about to try to ward off the nap time that was plaging us. 

We had our moments of complete exhaustion only to be revived by a sudden sale or onslaught of people or even one of our own cracking a joke.  We had several moments like that but I think the funniest came about mid afternoon when an gentleman in his mid to late 60's arrived in a bright red convertible.  We remarked about the car and he promptly told us that at his age with the gray hair and pot belly he felt he needed something to keep him young.

Two of my friends and I went to look at the car a little closer and he mentioned that there was room for three of us if we wanted a ride.  We laughed and thanked him but told him we had to stay there due to the sale.  But it gave us the giggles thinking that he was trying to pick us up.  Now, most people wouldn't think to much of it, but my two friends and myself are in our late 60's and early 70's so it was a compliment to our egos and I'm sure it was to the gentleman who offered us the ride as we oogled over his car.

Later as I told my daughter about the incident, she jokingly said, "Do I need to have a chaperone for you?"  But even she thougth it was funny.

So even though the day has been long after that short night and I'm fighting off the sleep that is insisting on coming, I have had a wonderful day with good friends and laughs and meeting and talking with new people.  So I will sleep tonight and be up early to do it all again tomorrow.