Sunday, June 16, 2019

Father's Day Memories

Even though my father was very stern and reserved with me, I do still have some very good memories of him.

This one starts out hard, but ends up with a great line...
I had to pretty much run away from home to go to college. My father forbid me going, and I ended up living at home a couple of years until I turned 18 and could leave on my own.My mother understood it was something I had to do, and I think that is because she couldn't afford to go to college when she graduated from high school in 1930. So, I turn 18, and I am on my way to the bus station to head to college. The last thing I hear my father say to my mother is that "Nothing good will come of this, she'll go off and come back pregnant." He had such faith in me! So of I went to college, majored in theatre, ended up working in theatre and radio, won awards in both careers. My father saw me on stage one time, and heard me on the radio once. A few years later, when their health was failing, Papa had congestive heart failure, emphysema,and Alzheimer's. Hard to believe, this was a man who retired from a roofing company at 65, and went back to work at the roofing company at 67, and the young guys couldn't keep up with him. He fell off a roof when he was 73, around Halloween. He broke his hip and had surgery to implant screws and a rod the first of November. Doctors said he would take 8 months to a year to walk again. On January 1st, we were watching the news and there was a fire at the company where he had worked for 50 years. He said "They're going to need everyone and went back to work on January 2nd. He worked for several more years, until the Alzheimer's got bad enough that he couldn't work anymore.But I digress...when his health was getting worse and he and mother couldn't manage on their own anymore, I left my career in radio and back to California to take care of them. I did not know at that time that I was pregnant. After I had been there a couple of months it became obvious I should see a doctor, and I was shocked to learn that I was expecting. Remember what my father said when I left for college? Well here it was decades later,I was an award winning actress, designer,and broadcast news director, afraid to tell my father that I was pregnant because I was his old maid daughter. So, I call my little sister (two years younger than me) who was a married mother of two. My sister tells my mother, and my mother goes in to tell my father while I sit on the porch. It is late summer, and the windows are open and I can hear my mother telling my father what the doctor had said and the next thing I hear is my father's voice..."I told you if we let her go off to college this would happen, she came home pregnant."

Did you notice that I was his old maid daughter? This is one of my favorite stories. I was working at a theatre on my 25th birthday. We didn't have a phone back in the costume shop, so if there was a call someone would have to come get us. So it is the afternoon of my 25th birthday, here comes the office girl who says "You have a phone call, it's you're father." My father? My father never calls. He always has my mother call, even his favorite sister. He will talk on the phone  but he never makes the call. Assuming the worst, that something is wrong with Mother I run to the office to answer. I pick up the phone and say hello. My father says hello, and I ask him if everything is OK. Is something wrong with mother? Here is the rest of the conversation...

"No, your mother is fine, I wanted to talk to you."

"Is everything OK?"

"Do you know what today is?" 

"Yes, sir, it's my birthday."

"Do you know how old you are?"

"Yes, sir, I am 25."

"What did you do last night?"

"We had a show, I worked."

"What are you doing tonight?"

"We have a  show Papa, I am working."

"Did you get married since the last time we talked to you?"

"No, sir, you know I didn't."

"Are you sure? Do you have plans to get married tonight?"

"Yes, sir.I am sure.No, sir, no plans to get married.""

"Do you know what it means when a  girl turns 25 and she's not married?"

"No, sir, I don't."

"It means you are an old maid.If you turn 25 and you're not married you are an old maid. there has never been an old maid in my family.I'll be the first one to have an old maid daughter.Do you know what happens when you turn 35 and you're not married?"

[By this time I am laughing]
 "No, sir, I don't know."

"If you turn 35 and you're not married,and it doesn't look like you're going to be,at 35 you become the little old lady who lives on the corner."

[I am really laughing now]
"Papa, I am 6'1" and weigh over 300 pounds, I hardly think I will be a LITTLE old lady."

"It doesn't matter, at 35 you become the little old lady who lives on the corner. I won't be able to hold my head in my family."

And then he hung up. I am not sure to this day whether he was serious, but once again I did not disappoint my father. I was 47 when I married. I wish he had still been alive to come!

Here's the last one I will share today. I only talked back to my father twice in my life. The first time was when I was 13, and it was the last time he whooped me with the leather strap. It had to do with me sassing my mom, and that was NOT allowed. The second time, I was 22. It was the night before my sister's wedding. For reasons that don't really matter anymore, my father had decided he was not going to the wedding. My sister was hurt. Some in the family thought he didn't want to get dressed up. He wore bib overalls every day of his life. I only saw him dressed up in slacks and jacket one time. But my sister didn't care if he came in his overalls, she just wanted him to come. One of our older brothers would be walking her down the aisle because of my father's stubborn stand.So, since we are all busy getting ready for the wedding, it is decided that we would go pick up some take-out food. I ask my father to go with me, and he does. While waiting I get my nerve up and I say to him "I am going to say this and you can whip me if you want, but you are going to that wedding." "No, I'm not," he answers. "Yes, old man," I say, "you are going to that wedding if I have to knock you out and take you there myself." Nothing more was said, the food came and we took it home. We all went to the wedding the next day, and left him at home. We got dressed, and the music started.As the maid of honor I start down the aisle just before my sister, and there in the last pew, sitting on the aisle, was an old man in bib overalls. I looked him in the eye and smiled. He did not smile back. My sister, who had not cried yet that day started crying when she saw him. So, later as I drove him and mother home from the reception,a reception where he had a great time and maybe got a little tipsy, he said to me "you were right, but don't you ever talk to me that way again."  I never spoke back to him again.

The morning he died, his mind was amazingly clear. I had him up and bathed and dressed in his beloved overalls. he was playing with my son, who was about a year old. Papa told my son he loved him, then looked at me and said "He's going to grow up to be a fine young man, I wish I was going to be around to see it."

I treasure those words, and I miss my father, and I wish he were here to see that his words are true. My son is an amazing young man, and I tell him the stories of my father.




Peace and Blessings,
 EB


P.S. I dislike doing this but there is a paypal button over there,just in case. I told a friend once who was embarrassed about asking for help that if we don't make our needs known how does anyone ever know we have needs.The William and I are struggling,and just as embarrassed I am pointing out the button.We are continually blessed.

Sunday, May 12, 2019

Mother's Day

Mother's Day is not an easy day for all of us. Some of us are struggling,physically,financially,spiritually. 

Some of us are alone,missing Moms, or kids,or just wishing life was easier even one damn day.

In years gone by,my guys were not the best shoppers. So, I would get really sweet Mother's Day gifts like a San Francisco 49'ers ink pen-we live in Kansas City and my guys were die hard Chiefs fans. So, we began a new tradition. I would go shopping for my annuals and soil, and my guys would provide the muscle for me to spend the day planting flowers. Then rather than go out to a crowded restaurant, William would bake a Di Giorno pizza and serve dinner. It became a wonderful tradition. I loved it so much.I miss it so much. Amazing how traditions are formed,and how important they become in our lives.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY. You either are a child of a  mother or  a mother or are truly blessed to be both of those things. You may be a friend or an auntie or a neighbor who smiles, but you deserve to feel the love and respect and admiration that comes from those words.

Some Mothers may not hear those words out loud. OH, I could remind my son to say them, but it would sound forced.So, I choose to not remind him. I choose to allow myself to feel true gratitude for the gifts I have received this morning. Brother sun peeked out for a minute--and it has been raining all week, so that was a gift.

 When the eternal teenager gets up, he will read me the funnies.We will talk about last nights hockey game (his beloved team did not win) and I will treasure the times we are able to have a spontaneous conversation no matter how short or long every single moment of my life. I choose not to feel left out because I do not receive gifts or hear the words. I choose to know and believe that they are there.

I will share vicariously in the joy of others as they post pictures of their families.Being able to share the gifts and blessings of others is definitely a choice, and I have to choose to feel gifted instead of bereft.So, blessings to all who share their gifts, and to all who can be grateful for those gifts.

Are you feeling alone today? Has someone forgot to call or write? I am so sorry. We will choose to forgive them. Recognize the gifts all around us, thank Mother Nature for the sunshine, or the rain.

 I may even wish Mother Nature a Happy Mother's Day, even though she has been annoying me to no end with the never ending days of rain this week.

 Happy Mothers Day to those who need to hear it.

There is a place in all of us that needs to know we belong. 

Happy Mother's day.


Peace and Blessings,
 EB



P.S. I dislike doing this but there is a paypal button over there,just in case. I told a friend once who was embarrassed about asking for help that if we don't make our needs known how does anyone ever know we have needs.The William and I are struggling,and just as embarrassed I am pointing out the button.We are continually blessed.





Sunday, April 14, 2019

Dandelions and Spring things

Spring has sprung, and it's about time. It has felt like Narnia around here-and that may be part of why I was busy having a pity- party of one this morning. The bank account is empty, as I have tried to catch up  on the gas and electric, because as my son has suggested we think Mother Nature has probably invested her retirement funds in utilities and is gleeful at the huge bills we have racked up this winter.

My whining about the Narnia winter has inevitably given way to my misery as the pollenpocalypse makes me remember that ice and snow aren't really the worst things dear Old Mother Nature has to throw at me--ice and snow may keep me from getting out much,but at least I am not allergic to them.

So, here I was wallowing, stressing, kvetching to the universe that damn it, we could use some grocery money, etc.etc.etc,yada yada yada, and I hear a tapping on the patio door.

tap.tap.tap.

tap.tap.tap.

So I head to the kitchen to check it out. Open the blinds and tapping on the sliding glass door is the 2 year old neighbor. Now, this little guy is one of my favorite people in the world, and it doesn't hurt that he is totally toddler cute and funny , or that he thinks I am very cool. I love talking to him.

His sister thinks this...

Had a great conversation with the 2 year old (he lurves me)

The 5 year  old sister said "YOU speak two-year old?"

"I do"

Sister says "So does my mom, none of the rest of us ever know what he's talking about"


So, anyway, there he was tapping on the patio, so I slide the door open and he hands me a handful of 'flowers'

"Brunj you dandies" he says.

My heart thaws, and I say thank you so much, and he turns and runs off to play with his sisters.

He brunj me dandies!!

Now, many folks do there best to rid the world of dandelions. My late husband and I totally disagreed about dandelions in the lawn. He HATED them, wanted his golf course perfect lawn. Me, I like 'em.

They are a sure sign that spring is sprung, and they remind me of my father. My father, old Missouri farm boy thought people getting rid of dandelions was just plain dumb. He taught me that dandelions weren't always considered the enemy, before perfectly manicured lawns they were praised as a bounty of food,medicine and health for your garden. Gardeners used to weed out the grass to make room fro the dandelions. 

Dandelions are good for your lawn. Their roots loosen and aerate soil. The taproot pulls nutrients from deep in the soil and makes them available to other plants. Dandelions actually fertilize the grass. (I never did convince my husband of these things).

Besides, dandelions are fun. The only flower little kids can pick without getting into trouble. You just don't run out of things to do,like make little bouquets for the neighbor,hold them under your chin to tell your fortune,and once they go to seed and become puffballs they are make-a-wish magic.


Hey, they worked some magic on me this morning, lifted my mood right out of the pity party for one realm and made me smile.

I hope someone brings you dandies soon!



Peace and Blessings,
 EB



P.S. I dislike doing this but there is a paypal button over there,just in case. I told a friend once who was embarrassed about asking for help that if we don't make our needs known how does anyone ever know we have needs.The William and I are struggling,and just as embarrassed I am pointing out the button.We are continually blessed.



















Wednesday, March 20, 2019

I Am NOT a Wicked Witch

We were planning on going to get his monthly labwork yesterday morning, but it was raining, so I decided to let him sleep.

I  went in to change his appliance, and told him I decided to wait until tomorrow because of the rain (need new wiper blades-not in budget) and he said...

"Why? Last I checked you aren't a Wicked Witch, you won't melt from getting wet."


So, there...I am not a Wicked Witch!!




Well, OK, you say,but why is this important enough to blog about?

Well, because life is hard,and my son is starting to regain a bit of his personality after a couple of very,very difficult years.In the midst of stress and worry smiling because my son said something witty is a gift.

He has suffered so much in his illness, and while he is as stable as he will ever be, he has had to relearn much and it is taking a while. So he is worth celebrating.



My son is my hero. He used to meet every day with optimism, and was truly the most content person I have ever known. Things most of us take for granted can be difficult for him,but he has spent his life  persevering. Things we take for granted make no sense to him. We are still trying to establish a new normal, and it is hard. So the days he is witty are important.


Even though he has the most amazing sense of humor he really doesn't realize he does.Funny was always hard for him. In middle school he realized he didn't understand the jokes the other kids were telling, and why they were funny. So he checked out joke books from the library and studied the situation.

 Because his brain works differently, he doesn't see things the way most do. He can't read body language or facial expression. He is challenged by tone of voice. Having a conversation is not easy for him. He talks to me the easiest when we are in the car. There is a reason for this, when we are in the car, Mom has to pay attention to driving, so I can't ask him for eye contact, or even to look at me.

The truth is, he has every right to whine these days.Yes, his health is stabilized,but still he is not healthy--and won't ever be again.Life is hard for him in ways he really hasn't come to grips with yet. 

This person with autism, who can't stand to be touched has to allow his nurse mom to help him with his medical needs dozens of times a day. He has to tolerate what is to him intolerable, and he must be forgiven for the times that makes him cranky and whiny.



So, while life is grim at our house, life still has its moments. Moments where I can see my son returing to me, and even though we are poor, and behind on everything (as usual these days) those moments are the things that life is actually about.


So, happy Spring, I am Not A Wicked Witch!!


Peace and Blessings,
 EB



P.S. I dislike doing this but there is a paypal button over there,just in case. I told a friend once who was embarrassed about asking for help that if we don't make our needs known how does anyone ever know we have needs.The William and I are struggling,and just as embarrassed I am pointing out the button.We are continually blessed.









Friday, February 22, 2019

Cabin Fever

cabin fever

 noun

Definition of cabin fever


extreme irritability and restlessness from living in isolation or a confined indoor area for a prolonged time


Dear Mother Nature,

ENOUGH! In the last 6 weeks I have only been out of the house twice. TWICE! First the cold killed my car battery,angel cousins fixed it so I was able to run a couple of errands before the snow and ice came again...and again...and again...


Please, it feels like a movie scene-- 

 Groundhog:  No shadow, early Spring!!

Mother Nature: Hold My Beer!


 Of course we all know the ground hog is a notorious liar,-but, girl, you are killing me here.

My walker does not have snow tires. My canes do not have ice cleats. I need to get out of the house.

 I'm not asking for the world here, just a couple of days where I can run to the grocery store and get a few things for  the empty pantry shelves

A few hours where we can feel the sunshine.

A day or two where the furnace isn't running the gas bill into bankruptcy territory. 

There are other human beings in the world, I remember actual conversations with living breathing people. Yes, I know, I do not live alone, but woman have you met my son? Chit chat is not his strong suit.

We're a bit tired, and weary, and stressed out and we need to get out of the house. So, knock it off. Please?

Asking as nicely as we can. 








Peace and Blessings,
 EB


P.S. I dislike doing this but there is a paypal button over there,just in case. I told a friend once who was embarrassed about asking for help that if we don't make our needs known how does anyone ever know we have needs.The William and I are struggling,and just as embarrassed I am pointing out the button.We are continually blessed.







Monday, January 21, 2019

January...bah humbug...

So last year I wrote that January sucks, and that still stands.


 But this year we can add that my son started the year with a cold...it's wasn't a bad cold, a bit sniffly, a few sneezes, nothing a couple of doses of the purple stuff (Dimetapp) wouldn't knock out...

BUT, instead of the beloved eternal teenager with serious health issues who I assiduously work 24/7/365 to keep alive, he was for a week...

A MAN with a cold.


Of course, then I caught it.

The weather killed the battery in my car, so when the ice melts I'll have to find someone to help me get that fixed.

But, still...

T.S. Eliot may have told us April is the cruelest month, but I would love to nominate January for that honor.

It's cold. C-C-C-C-old, and still dark, and my kid only has one of his sports in its  season,thank goodness for hockey--Go Blues-- so he is cranky.


Every time the heat clicks on I cringe,because I know what that is doing to the gas bill--that I am behind on anyway because December choices to give the kid Christmas..


Yep, January sucks.


BUT, wait, as long as I am whining about winter and doubting T.S. Eliot,maybe I should listen to Albert Camus...


“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.”― Albert Camus


Well, darn, the fact that I survived this long is supposed to make me happy.

What to do.

Well,I've bitched about other months int he past. 

Heck a few years a go it was August and I wrote this...

It's the week I ran out of money and had to tell my son we couldn't buy groceries. But, he's a trouper, this is how part of the conversation went...

Me: It's hard the last week of the months some months. Sometimes it seems like it takes a while for the universe to provide.

Son: Did you tell the universe we have paypal?

Hey, you can get through anything when your kid makes you smile!

So, here in January when we had the same conversation yesterday, it was OK.My kid still can make me smile,in fact he sometimes makes me laugh out loud. And considering what he has gone through, and still deals with, that is a a sign of the invincible summer.


SO, I'll suck it up, even though we all struggle, there are always moments to share. The important things in life are always available. 


I will work on being positive today.

But, darn it Mother Nature, it needs to warm up soon! Apparently being cold makes me cranky. But, let me allow the universe to adjust my attitude. 


So, OK, I'll admit that now that when the sun has come up,the ice on the trees is seriously pretty-- sunlight illuminating ice crystals that look like little diamonds smiling at me. 


Well, shoot,maybe January isn't the bitch I thought she was an hour or so ago. 


 But it's still too dang cold.




Peace and Blessings,

 EB


P.S. I dislike doing this but there is a paypal button over there,just in case. I told a friend once who was embarrassed about asking for help that if we don't make our needs known how does anyone ever know we have needs.The William and I are struggling,and just as embarrassed I am pointing out the button.We are continually blessed.

Saturday, January 19, 2019

One More Year...One Day At A Time

Oh my word, I haven't had a drink in 40 years!

Today is my birthday. Not my belly button birthday, my day I got clean and sober birthday. Today I am celebrating 40 years of sobriety. Celebrating 40 years of choosing to deal with life and all its challenges, obstacles, defeats, and victories without using drugs or alcohol. 

I don't remember when alcohol wasn't available to me. My older brothers-14, 18, and 21 years older than me- were the kind of guys that thought it was cute to give a baby or toddler a sip of beer, or whatever cocktail they might be drinking. There was always a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cupboard, and when my dad wanted a glass of wine in the evening, he sent one of us to get it.Alone in the kitchen, no one was there to see me take a swig for myself. If there were family gatherings, not much attention was paid attention to what you were grabbing out of the cooler. After all, the men usually sent a kid to get the beer out of the cooler. So I developed an enjoyment of the taste and effect of alcohol at a very young age. It was an easy way to make life stop hurting for a little while. 

Of course,as soon as I left home it was no problem. I looked older than my age, and was never carded. Really, the first time I was carded was on my 21st birthday. There was a new guy at my liquor store, and he carded me and wished me a Happy 21st birthday. The owner was shocked, since he had been selling me alcohol for 4 years. But, he didn't make a big deal about it. I was a very good customer. By the time I was 21, I was drinking every day. I had started down that road as a teenager with undiagnosed bipolar disorder. I was self medicating with drugs and alcohol for several years. When I was diagnosed, I started letting go of the drugs, but consumed more alcohol to make up for it.

I drank my way through college, and 5 years into my working life. I managed to get good grades, and do good work while I increased my drinking. I had good jobs, but my drinking caused me to make some really, really stupid decisions about men and relationships.Just like the song says "Looking for love in all the wrong places."


I knew that eventually I would have to quit drinking. I knew that it was impossible for me to drink in moderation, and I hated that, because there were things I truly enjoyed and did not want to give up.I truly enjoyed choosing the right wine for a good meal. I truly enjoyed a cold beer on a hot afternoon.But, as much as I wish I was, I am not the kind of person who can stop with one glass of wine, one cold beer, one mixed drink. So, I had to listen to the small voice and quit. The last time I got drunk was on a Sunday night. I had been to a party. I don't remember much about the party, I had been drinking all weekend of course, but for some reason I got really drunk at that party. I think that I totally embarrassed myself, and a friend suggested we leave and go somewhere else. We ended up at her Mother's house. I don't remember how we got there, but I do remember sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and talking to her mother until 5 o'clock Monday morning. I drove home and got in the shower and then I decided to call in sick and get some sleep. I had never done that before, I always went to work. In fact, I got in the shower intending to get ready for work, but while I was in that shower I started getting quiet, and when I get quiet I can hear the small voice, and the voice said "It's time to heal." 

So, I called in sick, went to bed and slept for a couple of hours. When I woke up I felt like crap.I never got hungover, but that day I was hungover. I spent some time feeling sorry for myself, but then I remembered hearing the voice. I knew that it was time to stop numbing the pain, time to stop dulling the memories and to start healing the wounds. I called my doctor, and went to see her. I had a good talk with her and she referred me to a therapist. She called him right then, and he saw me that afternoon.It was Monday, January 19, 1981. The therapist said that he would work with me, but he also suggested that I go to AA. He got out the phone book, and handed me the phone. I made the call and found a meeting that evening. That was the beginning of my journey to health and wholeness, a journey I am still on. It is not an easy journey to start. It is not an easy journey to continue, but it is a journey I believe we must all undertake.

So, here I am. I haven't had a drink, oh how I have wanted to, but I have not had a drink.My Higher Power and I are taking a journey. One day at a time.


Peace and Blessings,
EstherBelle