Grrrrrrieving

Elisabeth Kubler Ross wrote about DEATH AND DYING and her book included the steps associated with grieving. That was 1969. I read it in college during a psychology course or maybe sociology.

I'm entering step 2 today. ANGER: anger over Frieda having to die, more anger at the people who mistreated her so badly she feared her own shadow, even guilty anger at myself for not being able to fix it.

Expect me to write about it on this blog. Look at the title if you doubt for a moment that I wouldn't open up and try to rip those unknown individuals (I hesitate to call them humans)"a new one".

We had six dogs. Some people would say that's too many. But there are two of us and we are retired and we love dogs. All the dogs were adopted/rescued - call it what you will, they all have pasts, usually sad, some bad. Frieda's was both.

You might not think going from six to five would mean much. But it does. Each of them is bonded to the others and to us in lots of ways. One of our dogs had been tied to a tree in the country, her dead puppies and 17 other adult dogs nearby. The property owner lived an hour and a half away and drove by once or twice a week to toss out food. If the chain went far enough to get some of it then a dog was lucky. That's Sally's story. Needless to say she has issues.

We started out fostering Sally. She was adopted by friends but ran away, in the country, and that led to 9 days of searching for her, thru mucky fields. It was Frieda Joy who truly brought her back to safety, walking with me thru mud on that ninth day, making a "scent path" back to the live trap set for her. The next morning there was Sally, waiting. We brought her home. She and Frieda found solace in the life they shared here. Sally sits in Frieda's spots and went to Frieda's feeding spot when Frieda wasn't there Monday night.

I'm angry that Sally had already had much taken from her and now she has lost her best friend. Don't we all know how that feels?

For Sally and the others Frieda Joy was the alpha dog. Just her presence made it clear, even when she was frightened. She was first to the door with a greeting, first to a lap when thunder and lightning started, first to leap into the car when a field trip was in order. She got treats and then everyone else got them. We tried not to over-pamper her, tough as it was, because all the books say it's not good for them. But we spoiled her and protected her.

We just couldn't keep her from the demons she brought with her, the past sewn into her soul, carved on her heart. She covered them bravely with all the love she could muster up but sometimes those bad guys eeked out.

We helped her through those times but this time they beat us. But they didn't get the best of her. That's ours, all ours.

Take A Walk With Me

Today the temperature is going well into the 90's which isn't so bad but the humidity is 100%. So it is time to go for a trip down memory lane which leads to taking a dip in the pool. That's me on the right, mouth open. That happens less and less now, I hope! Those suits are beguiling. What happened to fashion? The yard was my backyard, jungle, library, forest, parade route, theater, swimming hole, campgrounds, and playground.

I had to share it with Grandma who held title to the veggie and flower gardens, see the white picket fence? The cherry trees were hers too, as well as the chicken coop-turned-tool shed which the photographer must be standing in near. It was the cherry tree in the photo background that I used to climb to pick and eat the cherries. I managed to get some for Mom and Grandma to make pies too. I had the kettle I used for cherries, right up till last year.

Oh, and half the yard had been converted to a parking lot, or maybe always was. Pre-Kate era. Grandpa was a mechanic and had a 3 car garage. Grandma rented "tourist rooms" and there was parking for guests. My dad's truck was always parked outside.

One of the tourists was a snappy, young lad, probably 24-28 and he had a car that matched - a zippy, 2 seat red convertible. I was too young to be appreciated by him but I knew what I liked and it was that car! So I just hung around, touching it when he wasn't there. It was an MGB. Now I think Grandma should have taken his car in exchange for a place to live and in time I would have had a slick ride for myself.

Come to think of it, this may have been my first sign of a love for cars. It became an obsession: I used to lay in bed, look out the window, tell myself, "1956 Ford Fairlane", "1960 Chevy BelAir" or whatever was passing by.

So the yard sounds huge and it was then, when I was little. It is, still, in my mind. It was a full day of activity, an adventure-land to visit. Some days there was laundry hanging out to dry and dashing between sheets was a game. The next day the line would be left up so a tent could be set up over it for camping out (day camp). The day after that the tent would come down and become a screen for a play or puppet show. We'd haul out folding chairs for dolls and trapped family members. After the final performance we'd swing and spin around on the monkey bars.

Then there'd be a day of running a library and the neighborhood kids would come and we'd read. Imagine that! Soon there'd be a game of tag or ball to wear us out before dinner. The pool was obviously above ground and a source of much cool fun, as is evidenced above. When the pool wasn't "up" we'd have pet parades and every cat and dog on the block was encouraged to participate.

The garden was the best though. Row after row of carefully tended to plants that yielded beans and lettuce, tomatoes and rhubarb, parsley and probably some stuff I wouldn't eat so don't remember. I do recall weeding and the associated excuses for not being able to do it...not just yet. The excuses failed; the weeds were gone. I was outnumbered by grownups.

Well, thanks for taking this quick trip with me around the back yard. I hope you enjoyed a glimpse of my only-child past. It was a close knit neighborhood where every mom was Mom, every dad was Dad, and every kid was like a brother or sister.

Or at least that's how I remember it.

RMT, NT and G, and Ed

This past weekend we enjoyed cousin company. Our family has experienced generational geographic expansion. In other words, we don't live close to each other. I wish we all did.

There's never enough time to cover all the big topics.

So, this past weekend we talked as if we will be together again this weekend.

I forgot to say, "I love you." There.

And, for laughs - our 29th anniversary found us laughing at the reality that I had a dog in the car and couldn't stop for a card for my husband and he bought me a perfect card two months ago, with dogs and cats on it, and has no idea where it is. That tells you why we have lasted - we just laugh!

Angels Among Us

My mom is in a nursing home.
What a way to reach the end. I have said that.
We visited today. Mornings are best.
We were wheeling her from therapy to her room, for a visit, when we passed a small gathering room with 3 residents and 3 visitors in it. One person had a guitar and was singing. We chose to go there instead.
It was nothing less than a miraculous experience. The guitar player had an easy-listening folksy voice. She knew the 3 residents well. Clearly they were a long and well-established group. One of the other "outsiders" was with her and one with a resident.
We were welcomed without question.
We stayed an hour and hated to leave.
Jan, the musician, showed us not only that she has the makings of an angel in her voice, but also in her life.
One man, whose age is undetermined, had brain damage, probably from birth. He spoke well enough that she understood him. They joked a lot.
Another man, between 35-40, is now paralyzed from the chin down, doing all movements of his chair with his chin. She acknowledged his intellectual level honorably.
The third, Bubba, was also of an unknown age. He's probably younger than we'd think and we'd probably think that is unfortunate. He weighs 50 lbs. perhaps and is curled up - no speech, no communication capability that we observed. That is until we experience the jam session.
Jan told him long stories within a song she knew he'd recall, strumming her guitar all the time. Everyone else learned from her interaction with him as she reminded him of his friends, other song fests, visits in the room that is now for therapy.
We sang, "In The Garden" twice because my mom didn't remember the first time. We heard "Be Still" - I cried. We played kids' instruments to "Old MacDonald Had a Band", and so much more.
We came away realizing that God continues to amaze us. He took us into this room to be with people we pitied previously and He showed us how whole they are in His eyes by letting us see how whole they are in Jan's eyes.
There are angels among us.
Being in this home has been a blessing, whether my mom knows it or not. They are good to her. And, we believe God takes you home when your work is done. Her presence there may be nothing more than to open our eyes and hearts more. This may be her final gift. This may be how she is an angel among the other residents.
She may be leading us to really see all the others.
It was a humbling and memorable day.
Next time we go we an say "Hey Kenny", "Hi Gary" and "Howdy Bubba" with fresh eyes. People we thought were not whole truly are. People we felt sorry for really don't want us to feel that way.
There are angels. They are among us. Look for yourself. See.

Fun At Night - It's All In The Game

Instead of our small group (faith-based) study, we all agreed to go to the championship game of our local baseball team, The Springfield Sliders. Nomenclature sensitivity is exampled at its finest in that choice and the competition's - The Danville Dans. Yes, there were two Dan's on the team. So be it.
We won, by a landslide - thus justifying the name, even though the mascot is a red slider turtle, not exactly what comes to mind when conjuring up a foreboding competitor. But it is the early stages of league play so let's give it to 'em.
The point is, this was great fun! It was spontaneous, corny, healthy, nostalgic, friendly, safe, reasonably priced - all of what we need to keep life in the proper perspective; I know I haven't listed all the qualities. When we left we felt good about having been there. That's nice. It was restorative.
Sometimes the best we can do for ourselves and others is the simple activity. The team has a tradition of doing really goofy fan competitions. Every kid wanted to participate and every winner (all of them) glowed with the thrill of victory.
It wasn't about WII, GameBoy or any other techno-wizardry. It was about what is REAL.

Kitchen Which

There was a time when I had a cute little kitchen witch hanging around here but it's long gone. Still the play on words is worth doing.

The true topic is old time kitchen smells vs. kitchen designs. Reflecting upon the flaws I find in my own kitchen I have concluded that none are so great that they cannot be overcome by the familiar smells associated with something cooking or baking.

Who among us doesn't love walking into a place where the aroma is the ambiance, the experience, the memory? [Apologies if you have scent-deficit-disorder.] Not the fancy-schmancy candle scents. I'm talking about the real thing.

Kitchens I remember are mostly those in relatives' homes. Stands to reason, as when we ate away from home it was usually at one of those houses! But there was the pink kitchen at Aunt Margaret's. As I recall it was what she always had wanted. And, we ate at a big long table in the dining room once we were old enough. I remember her checking the turkey and then suddenly ,when it was close to carving time, all the women went into action: whipping potatoes, mixing the gravy, putting out the relishes, those brown and serve rolls...dressing, jello salads - the works! It all mixed in the air and was the call to the wild to come, to come, to come and indulge.

At Aunt Grace's it was grapefruit. I remember visiting there and that is what she was serving for breakfast. I'd never had it, had never even seen it. But it didn't smell sweet. There was no surprise that it didn't taste so sweet. I ate it, using the special edged spoon and still squirting juice on myself and others. Soon I was allowed to go the room I was sleeping in and read LITTLE BLACK SAMBO, a book from the shelves in there. As I recall, the tiger ran around in a circle and melted into something. I think it was butter. Not a PC book for these times.

When I went to the country, nearby where I live now, Aunt Edie always had more overflowing dishes and more people than the table could hold. Chances are some of what we were enjoying came from somewhere in the yard or garden. What I remember most is the smell of freshness, of "just picked". There's the scent of hands being washed, of sunshine on warmed skin - all mixed with the smell of ice cold milk and also great iced tea. And I remember the china cabinet we had to avoid bumping and the party-line wall phone and the steep steps to the upstairs and the cowboy motif in my cousins' bedroom.

So, instead of changing the kitchen I will opt for a ceiling fan and lighting placed more appropriately. The heat seems to be captured and stored in the work area. That has got to cease. And, instead of wanting something that could go in a magazine layout I will opt for what can't be seen. I will keep on cookin' and bakin' to fill the air with great scents. After all, nothin' says lovin' like something from the oven, right?

Now, go to the kitchen. Inhale. Ahhhhhh.

Tuesday Morning - not the store, just the thoughts

First, credit where credit is due. We had the strawberry pretzel ice cream dessert that appears on http://www.heatherbailey.typepad.com/ Yummmm. We cheated with it though, not taking the time to make the vanilla ice cream but using a quality store version. Still goooood.

Next, kudos to my mother's dentist. He came out to the car to fit her replacement lower dentures for her, went in to do the adjustments, came back out again (twice). What a guy - certainly a small town hero to us!

Third, I'm re-thinking the word "friendship". Have had a long distance discussion with a close relative. We are in agreement that one great friendship is a true gift. Well, I have that with my husband already so I offered up that more than one is do-able. Then, in another message or two, we have unexpectedly landed on his high school memories. That could be because I now live close to where he grew up and have "haunted" some of the places he knows about and which still exist, lo these many years. And, add to it that I have reconnected with a couple of my neighborhood buddies from northern IL. From all this I have concluded that friendships do evolve.

It is written that people come into your life, stay awhile, then either things progress to permanency or drift. I'm amazed at how true this is but also how true it is that there is comfort in the old friendships. There is pleasure in having had friendships that may no longer exist. It is so enjoyable to get caught up in getting caught up!

At the same time it is so real and so right to not hang on to what no longer clicks. I'm here to tell you that retirement addresses that more than any other event I know of in my own limited experience. Prior to giving up employment I suspected that there would be changes. My suspicions have proven correct and then some.

Oh, it is just as much me as anyone. I worked hard when I was employed. Right away that limits the friendships one forms! I spent a good deal of time on boards. That led to knowing a lot of people for a lot of do-gooder reasons. I also worked very hard at having an identity outside of "what I do".

This last point has been the biggest blessing. I've always known where I was headed after I put in my time making this journey possible. It's not always easy being out of touch with the mainstream but it is healthy, it is clear, it is solid.

I think more and more our country's citizens are seeing that basic is good, that there is a difference between want and need, that there's more to life than accumulation, who you know, being known.

I also think that's a good thing. Must be the place I'm at, the age kicking in! Finally I know what THE VELVETEEN RABBIT felt: REAL!

Take the rest of the day off.

No disrespect intended

If you've caught up with other postings you know MomEva is in the nursing home. I really do not mean any disrespect by this but there are some pretty weird and funny things going on regarding her stay there.

First of all, she is copying my dad. Well, probably she is copying every old person who ends up in such a place (and this is a good one). But she has chosen to use his words, declaring today, as he often did, that I could take her home and take care of her. ARGH. Not likely. I could not pick her up, move her around, get her fed. Let's skip the personal stuff.

Next, she has decided her top teeth do not fit anymore. Yesterday she was claiming they were not hers so, of course, the staff was panicky and at the same time hopeful that they were/were not missing. The ones she had in her mouth when I arrived today LOOKED like George Washington's choppers. Upon further inspection, facilitated by her dismissing them from her mouth, I could determine they are indeed, hers. These now reside on the nightstand, perhaps as a warning to anyone who dare cross her - she'll knock their teeth out.

Then came the coercing to go to therapy. God help us, she only has a few days left of getting up and walking with all the assistance. Then it is straight chair time. The kind-hearted therapist sent for her today (I know in her pocket there was a 'short straw') generously offered to let her take a nap upon completion of her exercises. If looks could kill, this poor girl would be on a slab and this posting would be entered by yet another corpse for we both we're given the evil, slaying eye.

All this now being exposed I have to add that historically July 9th has been a good day for me. It started in high school when I had my first date. Miniature golf during the day, if you are asking. I made it my day. Years later I learned it was my never-known-outside-photos grandfather's birthday. aHA. Further justification of it being a good day. So I sought out something remarkably good each July 9th. This year I am still waiting and looking for that. Besides my adventures with Eva I drove thru a yellow turn light on a red straight ahead light make sense?), albeit, successfully. As if that was not enough while behind the wheel I killed a cat charging across the country road.

There are those I know who would tell me to stop while I am ahead and to look no further. However, I felt very rotten about the cat, particularly since my front passenger seat hosted a stack of deliverable Adoption Alerts from APL. Should I have left one at the scene of my crime? This humor is too dark for you? Go ahead, make my day.

Before I came to my own blog I stopped by Shawn's (see doodlegirl link) and then went on to her sister's. It is such fun to tour the country daily, going to visit them and then linking into some of the other people they know. They really know these other people so I am a blog-stalker!

Updates: I never found my Tilley, even after getting a new one. Did the dog eat it? I will be writing a letter to Memorial Medical Center's higher-ups regarding my mother's lost lower dentures "the unresolved situation". I had to throw that in as it gives closure to this entry.

ta-DAH

Sally Sofa-Sitter Stays

My name is Kate and I am a dog-aholic. And, I am married to one. Our case is hopeless. But our house is happy! After 3 months of fostering Sally, FKA Venus, we have decided this is the place for her. She is happy with our other dogs. We took a vote. End of discussion. I don't want to hear about it from any of you. Couldn't hear you over the clicking nails on the floor or the barking to go for a walk anyway.

More seriously though - With THINGS as they are re: The American Dream, if you have it within your own power, adopt a pet. Benefits: You save a small life; you stay home more so spend less on gas and trivial entertainment; someone loves you no matter what; you fulfill at least one need; you have a subject to study, observe, challenge, learn from, teach; your health improves (another savings); you get more exercise and have an icebreaker when you meet people; security and safety. There are more. You'll figure them out when you get a critter. They are all-knowing and wise. Since most of us will never live in a culture which exists on fulfilling basic needs we must rely on what is available here. Pets have a simple way of stripping off the pallid veneer and getting right to the intensely richness of life. We Americans bitch (not the dog word) and moan about difficulties. Want to be happier? Take a dog for a walk and see how excited it is to be with you and share the world. Put a cat on your lap and listen to the contented purr.

Unfortunately there are going to be more and more pets losing their homes because of so many excuses. That's a shame. We all need something to hold onto.

Where Did I Put My Blog?

Okay, the blog is where it always is. But what about the *^#) password? Well, who needs it? Finally my request to "recognize" me out here, has been granted by My Machine, or theirs. So now when I go somewhere, like that will happen with gas being liquid gold, I will need to dig out the password if I want to blog (will I?). There's just no pleasing some people.

Speaking of which (people, pleasing, blog - take your pick), I am VERY pleased to announce the publication of my WISH LIST. After all, isn't that one good reason to keep a blog: letting everyone have a piece of your mind? I could write it down and use it as a bookmark or something equally as vapid. But, here's the whole world, able to tune in and hear me out, only with their eyes not their ears, at this point.

So, blog WISH LIST ta-da!

1. More people with personal relationships with God
2. Improved personal relationship with God for myself
3. Less talk on my part
4. More action on my part
5. Better understanding of all the "other guys"
6. No more whine-y Americans

Am I dreaming? No, I can actually do something about the first 5 which is a sign of advancement or maturity. A few decades ago I would have yearned for "World Peace" and "End Hunger" - both which are awesome but lofty and apparently unachievable. My inspiration, FYI, would not have been "Gee, what will I say if I am a finalist in the Miss Anything contest?"

While making lists, how about one that addresses the title of this article? Where did I put my blog?

1. On the back of the toilet
2. Near the phone
3. In the car
4. Where it belongs
5. Left at the library

Oh, that would be my glasses, my car keys, my purse, the book I am reading, a myriad of other things. If you are nodding now you're in the same world of hurt I am in. Clearly my blog, like the force, is with me.

HOT FLASH - GET YOUR HOT FLASH

Well, kids, it turns out I may have hit accurately for once. The NY gov and IL gov apparently were/are close friends and Blaggo has visited Spitzer on many an occasion. It is pure speculation from inside sources that Blaggo was treated by Spitzer to the amenities that come with knowing the in's and out's (oh, that was bad) of the prostitution industry. I'm not saying he did but I'm not saying he didn't.


Maybe wife Patti B. will be the one who turns out to do what the other wives have not been able to do or have been advised it is not in their best interest to do: THROW IN THE TOWEL. Slap the guy and say you're keeping the house. Get the banana creme pie good and cold then put it square in his face. (This is an older photo of her but the one being used on the bio on www.illinois.gov)


Of course Oprah has picked up on this. I was glad to see she found someone who had sued the husband's mistress and was initially awarded $500,000. It was her own doing that she decided to get away from the whole thing when it was appealed and she settled for $50,000.


HOT FLASH: She who laughs last, laughs best, all the way to the bank.

Cabin fever takes me down old paths

Off to the sides are photos I've taken on various outings. The bridge one, a scanned image, was years ago, actually on a business trip. Often I would take my camera just to provide some diversion activity and if the weather was particularly pleasant, as you can see it was, I would take photos. Ah, the days of film, real film. There was a sense of anticipation associated with using a film camera.
I digress (but isn't that part of the journey?); across the top of the bridge is written, "Cross this bridge at a walk." Fine advise during any season. We should cross all bridges at a walk. After all, some of them are fairly major - the bridges from one life stage to another, from moving on. Some of them are less significant in description but can be large in impact. The stroll should be thoughtful. We should never cross a bridge, literally or figuratively, without marveling at its structure. With any luck we will then marvel at much more!
And, so it was, just last year I was able to marvel at stone statues brought all the way from Africa and installed for a display at the Missouri Botanical Gardens. This is one of my favorites. The statues were larger than life. Walking through the gardens one crosses many bridges. It's especially interesting to go when special exhibits are there and the bridges transition visitors' moods from calm, woodsy plantings to explosions of exciting florals, each interspersed with artwork that miraculously seems to be in a perfect place.
May the bridges you cross lead you to perfect places.

Tripp takes a trip!

Our only male dog works for his biscuits. He is a "donation" dog for Animal Protective League and he makes trips to schools to visit students in classrooms. Most recently he went to be with about 50 students during two periods of history.

Although he's not up to speed on world or even local history, Tripp helps demonstrate the importance of pet care. Together we talk with students about pets' needs. It turns out we can conclude pets and people need a lot of the same things - food, water, shelter, warmth (clothing for us), and love.

The basics give us all a better sense of worth, of well-being. When we have these we can provide them for others. We can pass it forward or return a favor. We can become ambassadors for better living right in our own neighborhoods.

The students we visit come from very broken homes. If they have pets often they are treated as things not living beings. Already that creates a similarity for them; as children in these homes they are not much different from the other "things" there. Respect, gratitude, kindness, gentleness, love - those characteristics, those human skills are not learned at home. The children rarely know these qualities exist let alone that they can be recipients and givers of them.

Sometimes it takes a dumb animal to teach what we need to know most.

In Memory Of

In a few days we mark the 2nd anniversary of my dad's death.It seems like forever yet it was almost yesterday.I didn't know until a couple of years before his death that he wrote poetry, meaningful poetry.There were many about WWII but more about his love for my mom.It was quite a discovering.I learned from them.Learned some more of why I do what I do.
If you can, reach out to your family and learn about yourself before there is no gift of time during which you can do it.