Sam turned 20 on November 4th. She asked me to get her a cookie cake (which we do every now and then). So I got her a Mrs. Field’s cake with balloons on it (made of frosting, of course) and with the text comprised of LSU colors spelling out “Happy 20th Birthday, Sam”. She loved it. It was a nice day. The next day I had work. When I came home I saw the red cookie cake box sitting on the counter and I peeked inside to see how much was left and I saw one piece. But what I saw about that one piece took my breath away! Continue reading Superstition With Reason
…is a wondrous place. Jen and I used to go to the lakefront with Dad when we were little. Always on a Sunday. Sometimes Kim would come and we’d take our paper kite and fly it while we ate lunch. Kim was a close friend of Dad’s. They grew up together and he was at our house a lot before he got sick. He was diagnosed with cancer later on. I think Kim’s funeral was the 2nd funeral I’d ever been to (after Rie). We never cooked out down by the lakefront. I don’t even think they had BBQ pits down there back then. We just picked up Kentucky Fried Chicken. Dad brought the fishing poles sometimes and we would fish on the seawall. Every now and then he’d bring the crab nets and we’d try and get some blue crabs (that didn’t happen too often that I remember–and if it did, usually the crabs were too small to take home).
Sitting on the seawall with Dad, Kim, and Jen was magical. Continue reading The Lakefront
I read a post written by a lovely lady (Cathy Lynn Brooks) who keeps a blog devoted to her daughter, who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and lost her life in an accident about a year ago. Truly a tragic story! Her story had me thinking about my situation surrounding my dad’s passing last month.
When I was little the backyard was one of my favorite places to be. There were so many reasons for this. In the middle of the yard we had the biggest pecan tree I’ve ever seen that dropped nuts all the time. I’d go out to play by the rowboat we had on the left side of the yard, often. One of my favorite things to do was to turn the boat over and see what was underneath. My dad kept it upside down and usually we just sat on it and played cards or talked but I LOVED to look and see what was underneath! Lots of juicy worms would curl up and writhe free from the dirt along with some slugs and skinks. I loved that!
Where did I look to answer that question when forming my “About” page? It’s hard to look in the past for that, unless you carry your past around like an old suitcase, which (hate to say) I do occasionally… I look at what’s on my mind. What am I consumed by? I’m coming to discover that what I write about will always be pertinent as long as it means something to me or someone else, for that matter. Right now, taking action to move back home to be with my family and friends is foremost in my mind even more than it has been in the last 10 years. Dad’s passing has shoved it under a magnifying glass.
I reside in the Midwest. “Reside” is a good word to describe my existence every day. My heart is at home in New Orleans. For those of you not from New Orleans (or even from the deep south) you may not get my attachment to my hometown. New Orleans is a different kind of city, almost its own country, in a way. The day we were traveling to Rockford was very sad for me; not only because I had to leave my family and friends and the only home I’ve ever known, but we arrived the day after 9/11. It was a remarkable day in history and a life-changing event, personally, for me. It was an unpleasant day. I continue to hold on to the belief that one day I will get back. With my dad gone now it feels even more important that I make it back home. My sister is my only sibling and I so miss my friends from so long ago. What all of us have in common, however, is that we all have a home town. Many of us leave home to go live somewhere else either by choice or necessity. My experience is only one story. What’s your story? Are there similarities in our hometowns? I’m sure there are!
Like water… A pipe broke at my sister’s house and we are without water for a day or so. I’d gotten my son a bathing suit that was too small. I told him I was going to take it back and exchange it. He said he wanted to come with me to Walmart so he could go to the bathroom. Very smart! Got back here and made a sandwich for dinner and was dismayed that I couldn’t rinse the knife after I spread the peanut butter. Little disappointments all because we expect something to be there even when we know it’s not. When I have the thought to wash my hands, I forget that the water’s been off all day. I went for a walk earlier when the sun was still up. Here in New Orleans it’s been pretty warm! I came back dripping and realized that there’s no shower in store for me. So I sat out in the patio and stopped sweating. Then I went inside to let the sweat dry so I wouldn’t be wet anymore. Weird, huh? It just makes me wonder what else do we take for granted like water. Probably more than I’d want to know. When the water comes back on tomorrow or Thursday I will be very grateful, and I’m sure everyone else in the house will like that I will be able to take a shower.
Starting with the song… you know the one.
“To everything turn, turn, turn… There is a season, turn, turn, turn… and a time to every purpose, under heaven…”
A time to live, die, rethink, inspire and be inspired… Ever since I was a girl I wanted to be a writer. As I got older, my dad told me he wanted to write a book with me. His thoughts about what that would look like were kind of hard to nail down, but he was so sweet in his sincerity and his inclusion of me in such a wonderfully, lofty goal! We worked at it a few times. Took copious notes about what he wanted to say, had long talks into the night over dinner at Sal and Sam’s (which is closed now, unfortunately!), and talked on the phone about it ongoingly. Dad is one of the most important people in my life and it saddens me to report that on July 1st, slightly after midnight, he passed away. He was 85. He had a heart condition for most of his life. Three heart attacks, triple bypass surgery, high blood pressure, mild diabetes, etc. He had a good life, however. At his funeral I couldn’t stop thinking that it would have been nice to work a bit more on that book he and I were planning. My thought then, was simple. “Maybe I can do it now, for him, since he’s not here.” So that’s what this is. After having this idea, I saw the ad for the bogging 101 class. I’d just learned a good deal about WordPress so it seems fit and appropriate and Dad would love it! So here I am, giving this a go. I’ve been a journaler since age 7. At 53, maybe I can do this and write something that will be a contribution to someone. Please come with me and Dad on this journey. Let’s see where we end up!