I wish I were me

But right now I'm not. I miss me.

Shock and Awe

Yeah, I started May with good intentions. But sadly as soon as we returned, we had one family drama and then tragedy after another. I thought the year my father died in 1992 was the worst year of my life was bad, but this year has left me, at this point, in complete shock.

I'll go into the other details at another time, but after 4 horrible incidents I will only detail the 5th one since it didn't begin until Friday, September 2nd.

My mom has been the strongest women I have ever known. In early August, she was still cutting her own grass which was not a small yard. She has never been sick. Sure a cold now and then, but she has never been seriously ill, ever.

May 24th she turned 84. Her mother was always sickly and she lived to be 93. I called her on her birthday, which was the day we were flying back from Italy. I felt badly missing it, but I knew my mom would understand.

On Monday, August 29th, I got a text from my brother-in-law saying Mom had been getting seriously out of breath and the week prior they had taken her to have her heart checked. The results: Normal. But by then she was becoming very very weak. So they took her to the ER. Later they said her blood sugar was in the 400's so the ER said she was diabetic. I wasn't really buying that, because except for the high blood sugar, there were no symptoms that would indicate diabetes.

I was planning on coming down Labor Day weekend on Saturday. Thursday night, my brother spent the night with her and we was worried about her. He left mid-Friday and by the time my sister checked on her later that afternoon and she could barely move.

My brother-in-law sent me a text about 3:30 saying they were taking mom to the ER again. I packed a quick suitcase and headed out for what would normally be a 2 1/2 hour drive.

Except they are expanding I-69 and there was some 8 car pile up on I37 and the normal 20 minute drive from Martinsville to Bloomington turned into a 2 hour horrible delay. I suddenly found myself in the middle of Indiana University and trying to ignore my GPS because it wanted to direct me to more delay. My nephew called me at that time and was able to guide me to a road I recognized. Probably an hour still away from Jasper, Indiana where the hospital was.

I saw my niece sitting outside the hospital waiting for me and I had a pretty good inkling she was there for a reason. I gave her a hug, she said her brother and my sister was in the ER with her and she would text her brother to come out so I could go in.

In the meantime, it didn't go unnoticed that she was walking past the ER to a more deserted hallway in the opposite direction. Then she told me the news that I realized they had received only a few minutes earlier but knew it was best to wait to tell me until I was there.

My healthy as an ox, never complaining mother had cancer. Not just A cancer, but it was in her pancreas, liver and lungs.

That was Friday, Sept 2nd. Mom passed peacefully at her own home surrounding by all her kids and my sister's daughter and son, the next Thursday, September 8th.

There are many amazing stories I could tell you about those few precious last days we had her. She was amazing and funny and accepting of her fate. One day I will get to those. She passed away six weeks almost to the hour after Bob's sweet father passed. I was there at the end for both of them. Something I will never regret.

But at this time, I am just stunned. I know everything will hit me later, I'm really good at denial, I learned that when my dad died 24 years ago.

So, for those who were wondering, I'm still around. Except I'm not me, just a shell of myself until all of this year hits me. I'm not looking forward for those days.

Until them, call your parents, your kids and everyone else you know and tell them how much you love them. Those were words my mother always said to us and we said to her. My dad waited until he was dying before he could say them.

In the meantime, I'm praying for 2017 to be better.

Peace and love to you and yours.

I'll leave you with this. She wiped away my very first tear, I wiped away her very last one. I'll go to grave remembering wiping away that tear.

If I Can Make it There.

I realize now, how ignorant this observation will be having visited both cities.  Up until I visited Rome some seven years ago, Chicago or LA were the biggest cities I had ever been in.

When we first got off the train in Rome, I kept forgetting I was in Italy, we hadn't yet spotted any of the classic sights, but we're just strolling through the crowded streets with hearing all kinds of different languages and I simply kept thinking I was in NY. At least as I imagined what NY would be like. 

And up until May 8th of this year, I didn't realize how wrong I was. 

In my second to last post I told you I sneaked a quick overnight trip on our anniversary in NY on our way to Venice and then eventually our cruise. 

First, let me warn you if you fly SW, they assume you have no knowledge of NY airports, so they include Long Island ISLIP as a NYC destination. Since the one way flight into ISLIP was about $100 each and JFK or Newark was at least $300 to $400 each. I grabbed into them. Then when I went looking into getting from Long Island to NYC, we were stayhing at the Belvedere.  I found we would have to lug our luggage over about 20 types of public transport or I could try to arrange our own transfer. 

Thankfully, my traveler nephew found a site called Book A Limo who is apparently a limo broker. For the bargain price of $100 we got a 45 minute ride with a sweet driver in a great car. He had been in NY 26 years, originally an Indian who had raised two daughters who were becoming doctors. He proudly wore the American Dream in his sleeve. 

We decended the escalators to find this sharp dressed man holding a sign with my name on it. It was the first in many great surprises. 

He helped us with our luggage and while it was dreary and drizzling, he made our long ride into NYC

.  It was if the seas suddenly parted as just as we were getting within view of NYC, the skies parted and the sun shined on the New Workd Trade center. 

It was nothing like I imagined. And certainly in no comparison to Rome. While Rome is interesting with all its ancient history, it has none of the unexpected charm of NY. 

We never felt unsafe, even when entering the subway for our first ride. 

The only disappointment was although the Belevedere was a great hotel, we discovered we could have saved $110 a night if I hadn't booked in advance. They did discount our rate $50. We decided to just move on. 

We managed our way down to the 9/11 memorial on the subway. I have been in subways on DC and Rome, but Bob was a bit nervous since he is one who has to know what to do 45 days before he has to do it. 

But we were fine. 

Getting late and more family drama going on. More to come. Stay tuned. 

Just pics.

At the 9/11 memorial

The new World Trade Center. 

Nearly all towers lean in Italy. This is Burano, an island next to Venice. 

Our favorite was Santorini. 

Second favorite was Montenegro.  The pics don't do it justice. 

Mykonos. Our third favorite. But only in the afternoon. 

So I made it to the Acropolis in Athens. Been there, don't that kind of place. City feels safe, but is ugly, dirty and crowded. 

Back to Venice. The Bridge of Sighs is in the right and St Marks is center. 

This time tomorrow.

I'm sure I will be feeling quite a bit of raw emotion even though we will have started out to our trip to Venice for our 25th anniversary.

I decided (I say I because I didn't consult Bob first because I didn't want him flipping out about how many days we would be gone) decided since we would need to fly through NYC, that I would finally spend at least one night there.  I've only flown through and I was determined to see Ground Zero.

It may seem like a morbid idea to start off our trip remembering the worst event in American history, but this was our opportunity and I wanted, no I needed to see Ground Zero. I can not and will not ever forget that horrible day and the months following.

I expect we will both be a bit sick to our stomachs afterward, but the next morning we'll take a ferry ride past the Statute of Liberty and we will be fully aware of what a great country we are blessed to live in.

Then Monday night it's off to Venice where we will stay 3 nights before heading out on our cruise hitting the Greek Isles and Montengro.  I've only seen picture, but I've wanted to see them for years now.

Wish us a farewell and a Bon Voyage.

Happy Mother's Day.

How can I blog if I can't sign in?

Yes, I realize it's been THAT long. 

Ugh. 

Let's catch up, shall we?

Since we last talked, well, I typed, and a couple of you read. 

Here's what I've been up to. 

Bought a gun and took a gun class. Been to the shooting range once and I'm not half bad. Been wanting to feel like I could handle an gun and not act like I was part of a demolition team by just picking it up. The circumstances that finally pushed us over the edge was a young pregnant mother murdered in her own home in a nice neighborhood of town. They caught the bastards, but it still scared a lot of women in Indy. Half of the people in the class were women. 

Took some sorely needed dance lessons and we still look incredibly stupid, but we have fun and that's all that matters, right?

Made our winter transition down here in Fort Myers right after Christmas. And sadly, we are counting the days to go back to reality. The community down here is amazing, we have so many friends it's very hard to leave, but nearly all of them go home too, so it gets really quiet here. 

Planned an amazing trip to celebrate our 25th, which is May 11th. Hard to imagine it's been 25 years. Some good, some bad, but definitely wouldn't change it. 

I started "lobbying" for a nice trip for our 25th this time last year. I was thinking Hawaii. Bob kept hem hawing around. His suggestion was to take a cruise. Nice idea, but I knew he was talking the Caribbean where we have been 6 times. 

I told him that and said unless you mean an Italian cruise. So he casually asked me which I would rather do, take an Italian cruise or go to Hawaii. I couldn't spit the words our fast enough. Italian cruise. To my utter disbelief he told me to book it. 

Well I certainly didn't waste any time doing that. 

So we leave May 8th and spend one night in NYC. I know that's not enough, but I want to see Ground Zero since we have never been there before. 

Then we fly to Venice to stay 3 nights and hop on the cruise ship which goes to Ravenna, Italy, Kotor Montengro, Corfu, Santorini, Mykanos, and Athens. 10 days in all. Sail back to Venice and stay one night and then head home. 

I still can't believe I'm finally getting Bob to Italy. Now here's hoping he catches the bug. The travel bug that is. 

Maybe I'll have some pics to share. If I ever blog again. ;)

Cuz

On and off I've talked about our cousins here on this nearly obsolete blog.  But they were the sons of my mom's big brother and while we have some great memories and a closeness that's unlike most cousins, we also had cousins from my mother's older sister. 

We didn't get to see to my Uncle's sons that often, they lived in Alabama and we grew up in central Indiana.  

Mom's twin (my namesake) never had any children, but her older sister had four kids and they lived in my mom's small hometown.  We spent a lot of time with them, especially in the summer when we might stay with my grandmother for a week or two at a time and enjoy the sweet summer days.

My cousins lived an easy walk from my grandmother's house and so we spent a lot of time together as kids. 

And OHHH.  The stories we can tell.

My "youngest" big brother (CnC) turned 60 yesterday.  We had a very informal party at my house and on a whim I invited my cousin Kim who lived about an hour and a half away from us.

Kim was the youngest of all of my cousins, a good four years younger than me.  But we spent so much time together as kids, that we were very close growing up.  Their household was like nothing you can imagine.  It was the craziest, most bipolar household I have ever known.  You could stay all night and you never knew when you awoke if you would be laughing hysterically at the antics my aunt, uncle and cousins would pull or be cowering in the corner if the mood in the house would suddenly change.

I cannot see a Hot Wheels Track picture without remembering how the second oldest girl in the family used those sharp plastic suckers to whip the tar out of her brother.  Once when I was still laying in the hide-a-bed when she started out after her brother.  He fell on top of me trying to avoid the cobra like strikes coming from the mouth at the end of the plastic track which then meant any whiplash that missed him, hit me. 

Don't ask me why she began beating her younger brother.  I didn't question it at the time, it was just a routine bipolar relationship that we accepted of this wonderful, scary relationship we had with the entire family.

The oldest sister had ran off in the hippy days for months.  No one knew where she was.  When she returned, she moved back in the same house.

Late one night, my cousin Kim, her brother and I were playing some game in the what they called the rec room.  My aunt and uncle were asleep on the back side of the house.  Suddenly there appeared the oldest sister.  She began to scream at us at the top of her lungs, " SHUT UP.  You're going to wake up mom and dad."  I was struck at how loud she screamed versus our laughter and could imagine that her screaming could have created such seismic activity that she probably woke up my grandmother sleeping 1/4 of a mile away. 

Her brother, never learning when to keep his mouth shut to avoid some Abu Graib torture then yelled back, "Shut up you wild eyed drug addict."

Have I reiterated how much fun it was to stay all night with this family? 

With that accusation hanging in the air, his sister then went into full ISIS mode.  I could almost swear to you today that I could see these talons grow out of her fingertips and with a shriek that had my eardrums bleeding she grabbed ahold of my cousin and literally ripped the t-shirt off of his back.  I didn't even know that was possible until I watched it.

Of course the rest of the night was a complete blur, but for some reason I think we went back to playing the game as the rage had been expended.  God was in his heaven and all was right with the world

But here's the story that I thought of yesterday when my cousin Kim arrived at my house.  (I thought I wrote a post about this once, but can't find it now)

When we would stay all night at Grandma and Grandpa's house, we would sleep on a hide-a-bed in a room just off their front room.

Kim and I were still talking late one night, laying there giggling about something silly I'm sure, when we heard a car suddenly stop out front.  Within just a few seconds, not long enough for someone to get out of that car, we heard very distinct footsteps in the kitchen of the house.  Like a man's dress shoe footstep.  We were both frozen silent.  The sounds went through the kitchen and back around and then they stopped.  Within another couple of seconds, that car out front, who had been stopping there for the entire time for no apparent reason then took off. 

Both my grandparents were still asleep.  We both laid there, eyes wide open afraid to utter a word. 

A couple months ago, Kim and I met in Alabama at my aunt's funeral.  We haven't spent but a few hours together for 30 or 40 years now.  We brought up that night.  To this day we both distinctly remember the night in crystal clear detail and we, to this day cannot come up with a logical explanation as to where those noises came from and whether the car outside had anything to do with it.  There was no sound of any door opening or closing.

It still freaks us out somewhat since we both have it burned into our memory and we have no explanation of what those sounds were.

I have more crazy stories from this crazy side of my family, but I suppose those will have to wait for another day.

The Aliens are not in the skies in Greenwood.

This was captured a few days ago by a bicyclist in my hometown, about 30 minutes from where I live now. It's a phenomenon called Crown Flash which essentially is like lightning but in the clouds.

It's certainly cool. Warning: Strong language content.

Doo Doo Doo

Lookin' out my back door. 

Sadly there are no tambourines not elephants playing. 

However there is usually a bunny or two. 

Selfied Out

I'm sure no one would be surprised, but man, our culture has become so self absorbed. A couple weeks ago we went to Nashville, home of the Batman Building. It's claimed the architect did not realize he was designing a building which would look as if Batman was watching over the entire city.

We were in the city for four nights attended the CMAFest, which is basically four days and nights of country concerts.  The nightly concerts are at LP Stadium and each night features some big names in country music such as Brad Paisley, Carrie Underwood, Keith Urban and then some up and coming new artists also.

But what I found fascinating was the people watching.  The assigned seating means that you end up watching the same people around you all four nights. 

Such was the case of a really young girl that sat in front of us.  She was with an older big, bulky weight lifting fiend of a guy who seemed as if he could not have cared less if she was next to him.  I understood, because what we first noticed was her gorgeous short black hair.  It was impossible not to notice because she flipped her hair every 10 seconds or so.  It was a really irritating habit which I tried hard not to roll my eyes each time she did, or I would have been very dizzy by the end of the evening.

She looked about 16, but she might have been older.  The hulk sitting next to her looked late 20's.  And she would not leave him alone.  She was constantly poking him with her fingers, pinching his arm, touching his face not in a caress but as if the only thing she knew to do was try to irritate him.  Which it did.  There was never a sign of affection between the two, but it was obvious they were a couple.  A couple that didn't stand a chance in the long run. 

She, and soooo many others spent the entire weekend grabbing their cell phones and taking selfies.  A LOT of selfies.  I would bet half of the people sitting around us took more selfies that anyone would even need. 

Hulk's girlfriend had a Samsung phone, which I noticed most of the younger generation seems to be switching to.  She would then have to post every selfie to some social media, either Facebook or Twitter or something called My Stories.  I wasn't sure of what that last one was, maybe it's a Samsung thing.

The selfie stick made it's appearance all over the stadium.  Maybe I'm just becoming one of those old people who scream at kids, "Get off my lawn", but why spend a lot of money attending a bunch of concerts and then not pay any attention to the actual shows. 

Now there were some artists that I could have not wasted my time, but when Carrie Underwood or Keith Urban are performing, you really should be in the moment.  Not snapping some poorly posed picture of yourself with a huge jumbotron behind you showing the artist. 

It's not that it shows how self absorbed you are, but it's really irritating to the people around you.  We've created a generation that has to record their every moment and share it with the world.  LOOK UP.  You might actually just enjoy the show.

Especially if you're a straight guy. 

Yes. I Have Dropped Off the Face of the Earth

Well Earth, as I have known it now hitting 56 years.

We started our drive back to reality early Sunday morning, arriving at Normal Earth Monday afternoon.

We unpacked, trimmed the grass and grabbed a gallon of milk.

And here we are now, a good 48 hours back in looking out at the bright green grass and already bloomed out daffodils drop their last petals.

Yesterday morning I learned my last favorite aunt passed away at the age of 92. This same lady lost her son two years ago, when my brothers took him in and nursed him until he passed the night of Bob's spinal surgery. The same one who worried about her eldest son last year, when he lost his precious bride of 20 some years at the "not fair" age of 50. She was a gracious, gentile woman who used to watch me as a kid because she didn't birth a daughter and you could just FEEL that she had always wanted a little girl to teach her how to be a gentle woman. Unfortunately I have never been a girly girl. Aunt Nancy needed a girly girl.

But in the meantime, since we left here two days after Christmas, I can tell you we experienced life like we didn't know could exist. I finally saw Bob relax and enjoy life like never before. Even during some stressful times. About two months ago, they had to take his mother into a nursing home (I'm sure they are called something nicer now) with stage 4 dementia. We have known something was wrong for 4 or 5 years now, but getting someone help is never as easy as it seems, especially when they still have enough of their faculties to convince some unconcerned doctor.

We were relieved she was finally getting the care she needed, but we were not the ones facing the wrath of a strong woman who believed everyone was plotting against her to force her somewhere she didn't want to be. But her health and that of her husband was much better served with her being placed somewhere safer.

And then tomorrow I'll head south with a handful of my family to honor a lady who thankfully had her sharp wit up until yesterday morning when her health finally gave out.

I haven't quite settled in here enough to tell you that I feel like I'm home. I know the stress is back and that is never fun. And certainly not how I want to live out my final days.

I set out the bird feeders and bird bath today, weeding the landscaping and cut back the dead clematis. May is wonderful in Indiana. Yeah, I know it's a couple days away.

I'm counting the days until we drive back to the Un-Reality.

Life is Different Here

It really is.

About two years ago now, we decided that would be our last winter in Indiana.  We've owned property in Fort Myers, going on about 12 years now.  And we were always renting during the winter season to Snow Birds (as they are called down in SW Florida).  Those people who escape winter's worst months to warmer climates.

Some might remember, we were facing Bob's upcoming spinal surgery to remove the tumor that was destroying his gait and his calf and left him, as he says, "a half-assed man".

So last year we actually did it.  We were delayed to January 4th and we bugged out of Indy as Chuck Lofton was predicting blizzard like conditions.  We scooted on down to Valdosta, stopping for the night, carried my orchids into the hotel because even that far south was experiencing colder than normal temps.

As we made our way to the Florida state line that next morning, we noticed the sun shining bright and the temps increasing rapidly.  About an hour into our morning drive, we rolled down the windows and breathed a big sigh of relief.

It took a bit of adjustment.  The coach home we have owned since 2007 is in a great community.  We had not yet met many people other than a few of our neighbors.  January last year was pretty cold, even in SW Florida.  So the windows were kept closed and we didn't venture out to the pool or the beach.

Then February came and with it brought outdoor temps. 

And then we got to know nearly all of our neighbors. 

That's when life changed. 

I have always lived what some people think is the country.  It's not actually, but people who live in communities where the houses are packed together believe it is.   We own about an acre and a half.  Across the street, they have the pleasure of mowing about 5 acres.  So we wave to our neighbors and maybe once every two weeks go out to dinner with friends.  It's nice, we enjoy it.  But that is about all of the socializing we do.

And then we became Snow Birds. 

Even with the slow start last year, by February and March, we would be sitting at home and up would walk one of our neighbors asking if we would like to come over for dinner, or go out to a restaurant.  It was such a change from our routine in Indiana. 

And we loved it.  We had planned to stay until the end of March, but delayed our return to mid-April.  Our first morning back in Indiana came with snow whipping around our house.  I did not feel welcomed.

We were able to leave in late December this winter.  When we got here, many of our buddies we had made last season were still up north for Christmas.  It didn't take long to settle in our "retired" feeling routine.

For those few who read here and at my brother's place, you already know he is spending the winter down here as well.  For years, while I was working, he and Bob would come down for 2 to 3 weeks in January before our renters would arrive.  When he arrived last year, we went to visit my mother's cousin (who calls me "once removed" but calls my sister his cousin, how does that work?).  He was volunteering at a state park in exchange for parking his RV free of charge for the winter.  That led Mark to his nomadic lifestyle he is now thrilled to be living.

For these 15 or so weeks out of the year, it feels absolutely free.  Gone are the early alarm clocks buzzing us awake at 5 o'dark.  Gone are the pain in the ass bosses who delight in making everyone miserable.  It feels like we are finally enjoying what we have worked so very hard for.

It will always remind me that Bob is now knocking on the door of 67.  Which draws me back to my father's retirement back in 1991 when Bob and I were first married.  He retired in June at the age of 59.  In August he was diagnosed with liver cancer and by the end of January, just a few dozen days past his Christmas birthday, he passed away as we held his hands and feet.  How very little time he had to enjoy his freedom. 

Wait.  This was meant to be a feel-good post

But life is short.   And we need to make sure we live each day as if it will be our last.  And we fail at that so often.

But right now, life is just so good.  It was warm today in the later afternoon.  Next thing I know, Bob had talked with Mark and they had their fishing poles and bought their fresh water fishing license and were heading to the park located directly behind our complex.  I joined them for a little while, but when the fishing looked like it was going to be a series of Mark catching stick fish, I walked back to our coach home.

Then Bob sent me this picture.  

We are still trying to figure out what kind of fish it was. 

I figure if they are going to be catching that big of fish practically in our own backyard, I need to buy a filet knife.  Nothing better than fresh caught fish.

I haven't bought my fishing license yet.  But believe me, I would rather fish than anything else down here.  Especially deep sea fishing. 

But that's another license and another story for another day.

Stunning silence - He Said She Said - He Said

A continuing He Said She Said Series with a twist.  Our "brother from another mother" from the internet is joining us for this edition.  Welcome Ed from Not of This World. (This guy below is not Ed)

I guess I must first address all of the negative hype going around concerning the movie, "American Sniper".  I had heard those Hollywood idiots which I will not even name because they are not worthy in being mentioned in a post regarding a true American hero.  I'm always amazed at the Hollywood pansies who sit at home with their $60 million dollars and think what they have to say actually matters to anyone but themselves.  Armchair warriors/pacifist are allowed to spew their vile because they are cocooned in their safe little world because of people like Chris Kyle. 

Enough about them.  They aren't worth the blinking cursor time..

We decided we wanted to see American Sniper, but honestly, I was a bit concerned about Bob going with me.  Starting Christmas Eve every year, he is haunted by the memories of Christmas Eve 1969.  Each year the memory seems to become more vivid.  I have heard some theories that many of the Nam guys who has spent their lives productively are finding retirement brings with it full blown PTSD.  You see, they have kept busy, deliberately so.  Now that there is time to sit back and relax, many can't because their minds drift to the worse part of their lives.

Originally I had asked my brother, CnC to join me since he too has come to Fort Myers for the winter.  You'll find those stories at his place.  I began hearing about the huge crowds, so I decided to book the tickets early through Fandango.  When I told Bob, he said he wanted to go.  I've learned I have to let make those decisions.

We met Mark at the Imax Theater.  Several of my friends had already seen the movie and raved about it.  I felt like I might be at the top of a big roller coaster.

During the previews of other movies, all of which were filled with violence, weapons, bombs, etc.  Mark leaned over and said, "Amazing how Hollywood despises guns, huh?" 

For those critics who thought it horrible that Kyle and his buddies called the terrorists savages and evil, it takes only the first scene to understand why their descriptions are on point.  When a mother sees nothing wrong with handing their 5 year old kid an RPG to take out American soldiers, then savage and evil are mild compared to what I want to call them.

Bradley Cooper was simply amazing as Kyle.  His preparation in the physical and mental roles was extensive.  He gained 40 pounds in just 10 weeks for the role, all muscle.  In one scene, Cooper deadlifts 400 lbs.  They originally wanted to create fake weights, but Cooper refused.  Kyle's father and wife have all said that Cooper did an amazing job creating Kyle's walk and mannerisms. 

This was the third movie I've watched featuring the amazing job these SEALs do.  The last thirty minutes of Zero Dark Thirty had me on the edge of my seat as did Lone Survivor.  I read Lone Survivor which went into a great bit of detail regarding the training of the SEALs.  I am constantly amazed they could endure that type of physical and mental training.  

What was most striking about the movie was the ending scenes.  Everyone (except two clueless idiots) just sat and watched.  That was when the tears started in great waves.  I had thought to being plenty of Kleenex.  I had several in my hand when I noticed some face wiping to my left, where CnC was sitting.  I kept my eyes on the screen, grabbed a few more Kleenex and quietly handed them over.

When the credits started rolling the entire theater stood quietly and no one spoke.  No one.  Everyone proceeded to the exits and there was only very quiet whispers, as if we were leaving a church after a funeral.  Sober and somber.  It felt respectful.  As if we were giving Kyle the honor he deserved.

I am optimistic that the movie is doing so well.  Knowing that it matters not what some pampered ass celebrity says about the movie or the man.  It shows that Americans really do believe the SEALs are the good guys.  Maybe some are again getting convinced that America is exceptional, in spite of the last five years of the political leaders attempts at convincing us otherwise. 

God rest your soul Chris Kyle. 

To see what my "brothers" had to say, read CnC's version here and my internet brother's version here.

My Favorite Christmas Song.

Too good not to share.

 

 

He's Leaving Me.

Of course it didn't come as a surprise. He's been hinting subtly and not so subtly for at least three years. It was obvious his feelings were changing, but I chose to stick my head in the sand and not address the real possibility that he would leave me. 

He was no longer happy in his job and I knew that would eventually affect our relationship.  He was having personal family issues and I knew those were also tearing him away. 

But I couldn't let myself imagine my life without him. 

Our relationship began thirty years ago. Looking back now, I realize we were both kids. 

I think back in the ways that he changed my life, and in some cases literally saved it. In fact he was the deciding factor in my decision on dissolving my first marriage. That wasn't his intention, of course, but his advice at a critical time in my life, changed it completely. 

He was there for me then. He was there for me in my worst times of my life.  He has known nearly ever aspect of my life. 

I saw him for what is likely the last time ever yesterday. As I was driving away, I noted the dreary looking day matched my heartbreak over losing one of what I feel like has been one my best friends, someone I could always count on.   I wished him the best and insisted on a goodbye hug. 

I doubt I can ever replace him. Sure, there will be someone new eventually. But right now I doubt I can ever replace the relationship that has been torn away. But I'll go on. I have to. 

We talked about his wife's condition.  She was also a family doc and had to quit a couple years ago because of early onset Alzheimer's. We talked about the disaster of Obamacare. He made his political preferences known to me years ago.  He was a conservative Christian. 

He was more than just my family doctor. He was my friend. Never to be replaced.  

Carlton in Ferguson.

If Alphonso would teach the protestors this dance, we might that not have these race issues in Missouri. 

STOP

It was around the time of Columbine when we noticed the neighbor's teenage son began wearing the goth attire. When he and his friends would hang out in the driveway sporting their long black coats and dark pants, I wondered how one could see their sons expressing themselves by donning the same clothing of Klebold and Harris and not take some type of action.

I remember being especially freaked out one day when I came home to find that the boy and three of his friends were sitting on top of their garage roof. Now obviously I might have been a little too sensitive because of the recent events. And in fact, the boy never caused a bit of trouble in the neighborhood.

Within a few months, the goth fad had faded and nothing horrible happened at the local school.

By the time the boy had graduated, he had turned into a very polite young man who then joined the service.

It was a stark contrast to see the young man come home on leave in his distinguished uniform. I vowed not to be so judgmental when kids go through phases although truthfully I probably haven't changed enough.

Since we live "in the country" according to some, we do not regularly visit with our neighbors, mainly seeing them as they mow their lawns or wave as we pass them going to the mailbox and exchanging Christmas cards once a year.

It wasn't long before we heard that the boy was going to be deployed to Iraq. I remember seeing him in the backyard shortly before his deployment playing with their dog. He was no longer a boy, of course, instead he was a fit young man and I wondered what he might face in his future.

After Iraq, he was deployed to Afghanistan. There had been some neighborhood rumors that he was given some top secret assignments possibly involving assassinations but I still don't know how true those rumors were.

In the last few years, he had come home and began his life outside of military life. Other than a few brief times of seeing him and his girlfriend coming or going to his parents house next door, we knew very little of what his life has become.

A few short weeks ago, Bob noticed him taking out an infant carrier from his car when he and his girlfriend would visit his parents.

And while I fully admit we actually knew very little about his life, we were still shocked when Bob got a text from one of the other neighbors the other night that said that Jeremy had taken his own life.

Suicide is just so heartbreaking. It leaves such and ache that screams, "WHY?"

We cannot imagine what our neighbors are going through. I don't even want to imagine what they are going through.

You want to be able to ease their pain, to make it all go away for people that we really barely know. Of course we can't. About an hour ago, we carted over some food in hopes to make some small dent in their misery. It's impossible of course. Looking into the father's eyes as he thanked us for the food was like looking into the depths of hell, where nightmares seep out of your dreams and attack your very soul.

We came home and wept for their pain, knowing it will never go away for them. I wish people who were contemplating suicide could look at the eyes of their loved ones before they make that choice that can never go away.

 

Thank a Vet Today

Yes. Yes. I know I've been MIA for some time now. And I don't really have an excuse. 

But I'll make one anyway. About a month ago I updated my IPad to IOS 8. And boy, was that a mistake. It's a buggy as the Obamacare website. 

Want to see how buggy?  Here's a pic of my keyboard when I'm trying to type something.  The keyboard also likes to hide the field you are typing in. 

I cannot see what I'm typing. And when I know I've made a mistake, attempting to backspace in a blind field is next to impossible. 

But enough whining and complaining. 

I want to extend my deepest gratitude to all Veterans today. We can never repay their sacrifice. 

When Bill Maher is Right.

Which I would never had believed.

Apparently he talked with Charlie Rose this week according to Real Clear Politics.

Read for yourself.

BILL MAHER: I saw Howard Dean on TV the other day and he said something along the order, he said the people in ISIS -- he said I'm about as Islamic as they are, you know, distancing the vast numbers of Islamic people around the world from them. That's just not true.

CHARLIE ROSE: It is true.

MAHER: It is not true, Charlie. There is a connecting tissue between --

ROSE: Behind every Muslim is a future member of some radical?

MAHER: Let me finish.

ROSE: I was doing that.

MAHER: There are illiberal beliefs that are held by vast numbers of Muslim people that --

ROSE: A vast number of Christians too.

MAHER: No, that's not true. Not true. Vast numbers of Christians do not believe that if you leave the Christian religion you should be killed for it. Vast numbers of Christians do not treat women as second class citizens. Vast numbers of Christians --

ROSE: I agree with that --

MAHER: -- do not believe if you draw a picture of Jesus Christ you should get killed for it. So yes, does ISIS do Khmer Rouge-like activities where they just kill people indiscriminately who aren't just like them? Yes. And would most Muslim people in the world do that or condone that? No.

ROSE: No.

MAHER: But most Muslim people in the world do condone violence just for what you think.

ROSE: How do you know that?

MAHER: They do. First of all they say it. They shout it.

ROSE: Vast majorities of Muslims say that?

MAHER: Absolutely. There was a Pew poll in Egypt done a few years ago -- 82% said, I think, stoning is the appropriate punishment for adultery. Over 80% thought death was the appropriate punishment for leaving the Muslim religion. I'm sure you know these things.

ROSE: Well I do. But I don't believe --

MAHER: So to claim that this religion is like other religions is just naive and plain wrong. It is not like other religious. The New York Times pointed out in an op-ed a couple weeks ago that in Saudi Arabia just since August 4th, they think it was, they have beheaded 19 people. Most for non-violent crimes including homosexuality.

ROSE: I know that they cut the hands off the thief.

MAHER: Right, okay, so we're upset that ISIS is beheading people which we should be upset about but Saudi Arabia does it and they're our good friends because they have oil. Okay. But they do it too. This is the center of the religion. I'm not saying -

ROSE: But they're now fighting against ISIS too. They're joining us in the fight. As is the Emirates. As is Jordan. They are all Muslim countries.

MAHER: Well, they are both fighting ISIS and they are for ISIS.

ROSE: Well, it's not the government. I mean, some of them --

MAHER: Certainly the governments.

ROSE: It's a bit like today about Qatar. The big story today in The New York Timesabout Qatar. And some guy there is supporting, who is a Muslim --

MAHER: But I mean in Mecca where infidels, non-Muslims, are not even allowed in the holy parts of the city. I mean, right there, we don't have that example in other religions. They do behead people. Now if they were beheading people in Vatican City, which is the equivalent of Mecca, don't you think there would be a bigger outcry about it? So this is the soft bigotry of low expectations with Muslim people. When they do crazy things and believe crazy things, somehow it's not talked about nearly as much.

ROSE: Would you come to the table and debate this with a moderate Muslim?

MAHER: Find one, yes. Find one.

ROSE: I promise you I'll find one.

MAHER: Find a Muslim --

ROSE: I do believe that what we see with ISIS is not representative of --

MAHER: As I said, connecting tissue.

ROSE: -- not representative of the Islamic religion. I don't think the Koran teaches them to do these kinds of things.

MAHER: Well you're wrong about that. The Koran absolutely has on every page stuff that's horrible about how the infidels should be treated. But for example again ISIS says that they should perform genital mutilation on all women 11-46. Would most Muslims agree with that? No. Or carry it out? No.

But as Ayaan Hirsi Ali points out, she says --

ROSE: I wouldn't expect for her to --

MAHER: And she would know better than --

ROSE: Exactly.

MAHER: But can we really say --

ROSE: She's been a victim.

MAHER: -- women are treated equally in the Muslim world? I mean, their testimony in court is very often counted as half. They need permission to leave the house in some places.

ROSE: But a lot of moderate Muslims would say in fact one of the things that we need to modernize is the idea of the way we treat women.

MAHER: But in this country, if you just use the wrong word about women, they go nuts. And all these other countries --

ROSE: As they should.

MAHER: -- they're doing things like making them wear burqas and I hear liberals say things like, 'they want to.' They want to. They've been brainwashed. It's like saying a street walker wants to do that.

White Hot Anger

Here Comes the White Hot Anger

Come let it wash over me like the hot steaming lava from a volcano. 

I let myself one day every year to feel the rage. 

I understand some handle it differently. That's okay. I consider it like grief. Everyone grieves differently. No way is right and no way is wrong, just don't judge another's ability to handle it. 

For me. I want. No. I NEED to feel white hot anger every year. It is my tribute to those people that the spawn of satan were allowed to destroy. 

And here we are now having videos played out of Americans beings beheaded by the bastards that managed to escape the gates of hell and currently are allowed to reside on this earth. 

What's even worse?  The idiots that believe the radical Islamists are being discriminated against. 

So let me grieve. It may not be your method of dealing with this life altering event. But it is mine. 

One day out of 365. The victims deserve at least that. 

Amongst the Mangroves

I flipped the channel over to ID (formally Court TV) just a few minutes ago and when the show mentioned something about mangroves a memory of our first trip to Cancun came rushing back. 

Not this one.

Same trip but an unexpected adventure on our last full day there. 

I had originally thought we would take one of our four day to go see the Mayan ruins, but none of my fellow travelers had any interest. When my sister-in-law tried to insist we go because I wanted it, I explained I would feel much worse dragging three people to somewhere they didn't want to be than not going at all. 

So that left us with nothing to do our last full day. Normally that is really what I would prefer, but everyone wanted to do something. 

We asked around and someone suggested we rent a boat with a driver across from the hotel. When we went to book a few hours trip, the guy assured us the "captain" spoke perfect English. 

He was right. The guy spoke perfect English as long as the word was a simple, "hi". Other than that the was zero ability to communicate with a fairly gruff grouchy overweight "Captain". 

The four of us loaded into the boat and not realizing that we really shouldn't wear sunscreen because it kills the fish and we set off. Our guide wasn't happy when we attempted to apply the sunscreen. I guess it would have been better to fry like a lobster out in the gulf. 

We puttered around the outskirts of Cancun with the man pointed and attempting a bit of broken conversation but most of what he was trying to say was completely lost in translation. 

When he pointed to a green "island" type of growth out in the water, the only thing I could understand was "mangroves". 

He slowly pointed the boat in the direction of the floating island and we could see there was actually a small water pathway between the islands.  And in we went. The water path was narrow, really only enough room for one boat. 

About 5 feet into the path, I could feel a small bead of sweat start to form on my upper lip. 

Something didn't feel right. 

I realized that we were now in a very small boat in the middle of Gulf of Mexico and between two large mangroves, both of which hid us from everyone. This was before the age of Internet access and Facebook checkins. And we had paid the boat rental in cash.   We literally could have dropped off the face of the earth and no one, ever would know what happened to us. 

I then realized we had made a very bad stupid tourist decision. Here were two middle age couples like sitting ducks in a boat with a complete stranger. And we even more stupidly had a couple of nice sized diamonds sitting on our left hands that sparkled brightly in the Mexican sun. 

Suddenly I could see the future as if it was being filmed by some horror director. 

Just as I was doing my best to stop imagining some silly graphic crime scene, the guide began to slow the boat. I began to look around the small hull for weapons. 

I could see it all play out in my mind. The guy would suddenly appear with a gun. Quickly shoot my brother-in-law, since he was the biggest. Turn the gun to my husband next. And then that leaves two women, alone, hidden between the mangroves with no ability to protect themselves. First go the rings we should have left behind either back home or at least in the room safe and then I didn't even want to think about what would happen next. 

By the time the boat came to a complete stop within the mangroves, I was nearly panicked. Everyone else on the bait looked perfectly calm. 

Then the guide was able to ask something about taking a swim. Ummm, no not so much. My BIL asked about gators and he assured him there were none. My BIL remove off the boat as did the guide. It was only then I released the tight grip I had on my beach bag, as of it held some magical potion that would ward off bad stuff. 

They swam for a couple of minutes and then they both got back on the boat. 

I finally realized I thought we were likely safe. Why bother with the swimming if you're goal was to rape and plunder?  

The guide then steered the boat farther in as we poked our way through. Just a minute later we saw a baby gator sunning himself on a low mangrove branch. 

Ummm, excuse me. Thought there were not gators in here. If we have a baby sitting there, his momma couldn't be far away. I was glad I didn't jump in the water. 

That was certainly the highlight of the boat trip, but certainly not the end of the craziness of the day. We were to go snorkeling. I had been before, not far off the beach. But this guy decided the best stop was right between Cancun and Isla Majeres. 

This is when I made the mistake of getting off the boat first. The water was very deep and the waves were high. I am normally the adventurous type, but the waves were quickly carrying me away from the boat and I attempted a couple of times to snorkel, but the minute I would barely out my face down in the water, I could just see another big wave overtaking my snorkel. Of course that didn't happen, but as soon as I would pop my head out of the water, there was another swell. At one point the boat was getting close to me and Mr. Guideman gunned the engine and I thought for sure I would lose an arm or a leg in the propeller. 

I finally did enough signaling that I was just DONE. I wanted back in the boat.   

Finally after all that, he managed to take us close to the beach at Isla Majeres and my BIL and I spent 15 minutes of boring snorkeling. 

I was never so glad to get off a boat on my life. 

The Smell of the Sistine Chapel

 

 

I Don't Get It

I was pretty adamant about it. 

I refused to give in to all the hype a couple years back. I'd just roll my eyes whenever I would hear something on TV or refuse to read an article about what the latest craze was that was making all the middle aged ladies I knew lose their minds. 

And one day I was having lunch with a young friend of mine. She insisted I had to have it. 

So, I reluctantly bought it on my Nook. 

Should I sum up my review here or should I make you wait. 

Nah.  I won't put you through the misery I endured. 

It was the worst purchase I have ever made in my life. And after reading to final page, fully expecting that surely at some point there would be one single redeeming sentence in the whole damned thing, I found out I was wrong. If only I had stuck to my original principle and not given the author one single penny of my money.  

Hell, I would rather have given it to Michael Moore. And that's saying something. 

So now, all those rabid women who read the book are back at it. Because some idiot decided to make it into a MOVIE. Gad. Now I have to listen to all those same women drone on and on about who played Grey. 

I could only care less if they had cast Johnny Depp. Thank God, that psycho never made a penny from me. 

Ok, I understand all the idiotic sex scenes described in the book sent some horny old and apparently young women crazy, but I still didn't get it. 

Since I had originally heard many middle aged women talk about Fifty Shades of Crap (sorry, I cannot bring myself to say what should never be mentioned), I had assumed it was some erotic mid-age crisis drivel. 

And again, I was wrong. 

Instead the female lead was nothing but a fresh young newly-graduated college chick. And instead of following in the footsteps of all these crazed empowered feminists, she becomes some neurotic sex slave to a man that is several years older than her. 

That's it. The entire novel is nothing but this chick getting smacked, beaten and sex-slaved by this idiotic character. 

What the hell happened?  

I am NOT a feminist. Mainly because I think they are all idiotic Sandra Fluke wannabes. And that crappy book just proved it. 

I mean if feminists really believe the crap they spiel, then why didn't even one of them complain about this book?

I mean, here is this supposed smart college graduate who instead a of even attempting to become a functional part of society instead decides to be hit and whipped and controlled by this older man. She is not to have a job, see her friends and she must answer her phone the minute her "master" wants to screw her after he's finished with his female sex torture room. 

And not one radical feminist that I heard screamed foul. Not one. 

There was a deafening Bill Clinton silence. 

Feminists, my ass. 

Just Get Over It.

I just must be in a weird mood lately. 

Like in the last year "lately". 

I have all these things to blog about all day long. Imaginary writings during the day that if someone would invent a damned app that would just auto fill this blog would leave you in awe of my amazing talent. 

But when I sit in my chair, which is way too often nowdays, I don't accomplish anything. 

Sometimes I'm working on this new "secondary" career so that I no longer spend months and months at someone else's beck and call and will allow us the freedom to winter far from this frozen hell.  

Sometimes, I'm playing some idiotic game on my IPad that I would never admit to in real life. 

Sometimes, well most times, I'm facebooking.  

Which should bring me to the subject of how horrible it was to learn that two of my five readers have been Facebook friends and have left me out. 

Ok.  That's just a joke. I HATE Facebook drama and decided to poke fun at Dana and Coffey on her post about drama bloggers. 

Which exhaustedly brings me around to my original intent. 

I stay away from drama. My family doesn't do drama and I attempt, at nearly all costs to avoid it everywhere. Not always possible, but it's certainly better than it has been in years.  And somehow tonight I fell. No, that's not right,  I inserted myself into a situation on Facebook with a friend who posted his rant about a bumper sticker. 

Now one would think from reading this blog o' mine that it was a political argument. 

But I refrain from political discussions on Facebook.  And I quickly unfriend anyone who feels it necessary on a daily basis to post cartoons or make comments about my political beliefs. 

Anyway, here was the first part of the exchange.  

This was written by a guy that grew up in my hometown and who, until recently shared many of the same beliefs as I. He has recently had some life changes and I have been sensing this "turning liberal" mantra coming from him. 

"I have a rant (again) and well, quite frankly, it is sure to piss some of you off. And well, I'm sorry about that, but it will not change my attitude. I just saw a pickup truck with a bumper sticker that read "US Army, Vietnam Veteran, You NEVER welcomed us home"

First off, thank you for your service. I cannot express enough how much your service means to me as an American. But here's my issue. The Vietnam War was 40 years ago. The majority of the folks who never welcomed you home are either deceased or at the very least no longer a player in the public or private sectors. You will be the first one to tell a young black man that he needs to get over his ancestors being slaves because that is ancient history and we have made amends to them. Well sir, it's time for you to get over the fact that you were never welcomed home. Every President since Reagan has honored your service. Each one of them has done something to memorialize your service. Many memorials across this great country have been built to show you this generation does care and we do thank you. It's time for you to move past it and allow your heart to heal."

I read it earlier and started to dismiss it. 

And yet tonight it really started to irk me. 

And then I read what a friend of his wrote. 

"Also the same ones that tell us to suck it up they faught real war...they aren't comparable really two very different animals...but both WAR, how does the type of fight entitle you to be "more" scarred. Dont get me wrong love and respect the road they paved for me, but like you didn't want judged don't judge us. We dont choose the WAR."

I thought about my response for a minute. 

As I said, I don't do drama and I normally just ignore things that can get heated in a Facebook discussion. 

But tonight I wasn't in that kind of mood.  Maybe because I have respected this man up until this point. So I was honest. And I worded my response as I would any other good friend. If you're my friend and the time has come for real words, then expect them from me. 

So I wrote the following. 

"Ok. I am going to vehemently disagree with you here. 

I don't know of any Nam Vets who take this attitude. None. All of them that I know have quietly lived their lives and never used Vietnam as an excuse. 

What is happening now is that many are getting into their retirement years. And that leaves more time on their hands. Which means that they are just now experiencing a lot of the PTSD symptoms that they had suppressed up until now. 

It may have been 40 years for you and I, but it's every night for some of these guys. 

No one living today lived through slavery, so your comparison fails miserably. 

Just getting over isn't so easy when you have spent your life trying to forget the bad memories and just when they should be able to relax and enjoy themselves, they are haunted by horrible nightmares. 

And just so you know, none of those guys CHOSE WAR!

They were drafted. They didn't get a choice like today's vets got. 

They were forced to fight by their own government. 

And instead of hating America, they love it even more. 

Much more that those of us able to bitch about a bumper sticker. 

Because they watched their buddies die beside them on a horrible Christmas Eve in 1969. And they listened to the screams all night long and were unable to help them because of the incoming fire. 

Most likely you saw a bumper sticker placed there by a spouse. Who knows full well the horror of that war. Because she's seen her husband suffer through the late onslaught of PTSD. 

Enjoy your freedom."

Of course that set off a £!%#storm. Especially from the chick who thinks the Vietnam Vets chose the war they "faught" in. 

A couple of women had lost brothers in Vietnam and they agreed with me. 

The last straw was when my friend who posted the original rant came back on and said he had the utmost respect but I had missed the point. 

Here's the great thing about Facebook.  If someone is really starting to get on your nerves, there is about three keystrokes to delete them from your life. 

And with that I was done. 

However he must have noticed because within about 2 minutes he deleted the entire post. 

Yeah, I certainly missed his point. And glad I did.