A Long December

Here are the lyrics from my favorite Counting Crows song.

To quote my favorite line, and my wish for all of us,

"Maybe this year will be better than the last."

Happy New Year from KAT

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A long December and there’s reason to believe

Maybe this year will be better than the last

I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leavin’

Oh the days go by so fast

And it’s one more day up in the canyons

And it’s one more night in Hollywood

If you think that I could be forgiven...I wish you would

The smell of hospitals in winter

And the feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters, but no pearls

All at once you look across a crowded room

To see the way that light attaches to a girl

And it’s one more day up in the canyons

And it’s one more night in Hollywood

If you think you might come to California...I think you should

Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after 2 A.M.

And talked a little while about the year

I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower

Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her

And its been a long december and theres reason to believe

Maybe this year will be better than the last

I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell my myself

To hold on to these moments as they pass
And its’ one more day up in the canyon

And it’s one more night in hollywood
And it’s been so long since I’ve seen the ocean
I guess I should
_________________________________________________

“Ideas are only good if they’re shared,” he said.
The silence was deafening.

Merry Christmas

(Written By Hennessy)

Perhaps it should have been prefaced, “Once upon a time, long ago.” Maybe even “as the story goes” might have sufficed as its beginning.

Those lines are for fables and fiction. This story, not of fiction, not of folklore, but of truth, has passed on from those who were there that night in Bethlehem. This is the very essence of just how we are to celebrate this time of the year. It has taken on many shapes and forms, but it still has the same core meaning we all wish to capture in life.

This is the story of hope, love and peace.

I have never been to Bethlehem, nor have I crossed the sands of Galilee. I cannot begin to imagine the journey that was to take place in order to deliver this Savoir, this man who was already to be called Jesus. I do know however, that on that night, that most silent of nights, the holy spirit came to be in a manger with the animals as witnesses to watch the hand of God see that his Son be delivered to us all. A lone star shining in the darkness of the desert provided the light to the manger where the magi assembled to bring gifts to the newborn King. They knelt at his feet, and glory be to the newborn rang true throughout the tiny manger. This night, there in the cold, a miracle amongst mankind was under that magic star. Perhaps today, we see stars and think to ourselves; where is my miracle.

As I said, this is the story of love, hope and peace. This is also what Christmas is as well. On this day, we shall not find under the adorned trees that grace our homes any of those three things (love, hope, peace) as a wrapped present. They are wishes of ours, beliefs we hold in our hearts and souls that we pray we never lose, or that we pray we obtain, should they not be with us just yet. All of them represent the essence of who we are as a people. I find it rather humbling to seek these three magical elements of life. So precious they are, so fragile and in an instant can be gone should we not guard them with care. It is a blessing to us all that we have them with us and let their meaning guide us just as the star did for the Wise men. I hope that you have love, hope and peace, and hold them closely, never letting them out of your thoughts.

Love. This is an emotion we extend to those we care for. Our families mostly are the receivers of this. Acts of kindness not provoked, but rather given freely as we love those that matter most to us in our lives. While the sands of time permit us to be together in life, tell those that make you who you are that you love them because one day, the hourglass of time shall have not a grain of sand left and time and love shall have slipped away.
Hope. Perhaps this is what we desire daily. We use that word an awful lot in life, and when it appears in spoken word or thoughts, we overextend its true meaning. To all of you, I so hope from my heart, that all of you have a blessed Christmas together with family; the ones we love the most in life. I hope over your homes that day, that your star shines, and that your miracles take place.

Peace. The last of the three holiday spirits. Let it visit you this day. Let peace be in your hearts, your souls and in your homes. May the hand of heaven hold yours and let you know that peace and kindness on this day shall be yours to have and to hold. May serenity and tranquility rain down upon you and those that matter most to you in your lives.

Permit me to take this time and opportunity to extend wishes to you all in hopes that you on this most magical of days experience the love, hope and peace that you so all deserve. May the beauty that is this day be with you all and that you experience in the love of this season of giving and receiving. Let these blessings be with you this Christmas, and forever and always.

There's more, much more, to Christmas than candlelight and cheer; it's the spirit of sweet friendship that brightens all year. It's thoughtfulness and kindness; it's hope reborn again, for peace, for understanding, and for goodwill to men.

From our home to yours my friends, a very blessed and Merry Christmas day to you all. God bless.

Peace.

So This Is Christmas...

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas.

For all you have, for all you need, for all you want, for all you are grateful and thankful for.

For all you've lost, for all you will gain, for all you hope and for all you dream.

I wish for you that your Christmas wish comes true.

(And mine too!)

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So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun

And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong

And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let's stop all the fight

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
And a new one just begun

And so happy Christmas
We hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

War is over
If you want it
War is over
Now...

John Lennon Happy Christmas (War is Over)

A Few Days Before Christmas...

Written By Jules:

On Wednesday late afternoon/early evening, I drove through downtown Elyria on my way to a meeting for work. I couldn’t help but notice the town square, always beautifully lighted for Christmas and it is no exception this year. However, my thoughts were not so much on the pretty lights and the holidays only a few days off. It was hard to feel much joy. The day before, the company I work for eliminated three positions in our department. Like most every business out there, the domino effect of the economy has hit us and due to “changing business” needs, as it was referred to, three women were told their positions were cut – effective immediately. Somehow losing your job the week before Christmas seems even more brutal. It was mentioned in our meeting that there is no good time to be told you are out of a job, but I beg to differ – it seems these cuts could have waited until after the holidays, but that was not how it was handled.
In the past month, two women I know lost their mothers – in the same week. My neighbor’s mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in early November. She had not been obviously ill – the diagnosis came through the investigation of a swollen ankle, which led to other tests and unbelievably, stage IV pancreatic cancer. As Thanksgiving and the pre-Christmas season came around, my neighbor and her family watched her mom rapidly dwindle away. I could only imagine the shock and grief they must have felt during the month that her mother was dying. I cannot begin to know how they are coping now, but certainly with the deep sense of pain and loss that perhaps makes their lives seem unrecognizable as they work through this rough time.
A week earlier, a young college student who works at a coffee shop I frequent lost her mom; a 51-year-old woman. She passed away in her sleep from an apparent heart attack. I saw this young girl today, back on the job for the first time since her mom died. I didn’t know what to say, except, “I’m glad you are back.” Her face was sad. We didn’t go anywhere near the discussion of her mom. She thanked me for the card I sent her. She told me that they had put a tree up but she had not bought presents. I got the feeling she didn’t want to celebrate Christmas. I can understand why. Her pain is too fresh.

There is the terrible sadness over the discovery of little Caylee Anthony’s body being positively identified this past week. There is nothing left of this beautiful little girl but her bones, tossed into a garbage bag with duct tape across her mouth. No one can comprehend this tragedy. What can you say? Caylee will not be here to celebrate Christmas with the people who did love her. So many people who didn’t even know this child feel the grief of her loss – So many people who hoped that by some miracle she was still alive. She lives on in a video made of her singing the song “You Are My Sunshine” in the voice of a toddler who cannot quite get the words or tune quite right. You can ask why over and over and there will never be an answer that makes sense.

So many people I know must feel their lives are fragmented; changed in ways they never expected, through loss of loved ones and loss of jobs. I know they are hurting. I keep them in my prayers and I hope they can move toward better times and the road will not be long and difficult. I hope that they are shown kindness and a lot of care right now – that they are not alone in their pain. I hope they are given peace, strength and hope this Christmas. I hope they will be okay.

For KP, MB, MM, RM, and JK.

And for anyone who was touched by Caylee and loved her. And for anyone who is having a hard time during this holiday season.

Take care,

Jules

Christmas Past - Remembered and Missed

(Written By Jules):

This year, my 12 year old son has asked for an iPod for Christmas. We have decided, however, that a less expensive MP3 will most likely be what he gets. Being that he’s on the immature side, loses things such as his winter coat on a cold snowy day last week (it did turn up in his locker at school), his $15.00 Virgin mobile top up cell phone (again, went the cheap route because of his track record) and countless school supplies – he’s already on a second round of new supplies and it’s only December), the same brand less expensive MP3 that I personally own will be what he gets. It will still have to be heavily monitored because of the high probability of it turning up missing, or found in my washing machine…

I started thinking about the things I got for Christmas when I was a kid, particularly around his age, or a little younger. There was my transistor radio, no doubt a Christmas gift, a little handheld one in a brown leather case with a strap. I do not remember the brand name. It required some effort to get it to work at times, probably due to dying batteries since I played the thing constantly – pressing the 9 volt battery up against the connectors, holding it this way or that way, whatever it took to get the best reception from CKLW out of Detroit/Windsor. Transistor radios are pretty prehistoric compared to how we access music today, but nothing opened up the world to me like the music that came, often crackly, from that little radio. Music was my escape from things that were hard on the not so popular loner kid that I was. Music in many ways was EVERYTHING to me. It made me feel happy. I could listen to music and forget that I didn’t like school, that I was a shy kid and struggled socially. Music connected me somehow to the world, and helped me get through. Thank you Elton John!!! No, I didn’t have an MP3 player but I had what most of us did during the 1970s – and it was enough. It was more than enough. It still makes me feel good to think back on the many happy hours I spent listening to that radio.

I went through my Barbie stage for awhile, but I never actually owned my own Barbie. Rather, I inherited my sister’s dolls, which were probably circa 1960, possibly original versions of Barbie, with the heavily lined lids and the high ponytail. My sister had a “Midge” doll too who wasn’t too cute. We had Skipper who was a kid doll, Barbie’s little sister. It wasn’t until I got Barbie’s English cousin (later I think she was plugged as Barbie’s sister) “Stacie” in 1968 that I felt I had a cool doll. To me, Stacie was the hottest doll in the collection of Barbies (unlike kid Skipper or Midge). She was up to date, red hair with bangs, a side swept ponytail (which would require extensions if you wanted to recreate the look today) and eyelashes. I thought Stacie emulated total beauty. I wanted to look just like her when I grew up. Never was there a more beautiful doll than Stacie. I can still remember the rubber/plastic smell of that doll when I opened the box on Christmas - Stacie by Mattel.

There were other things I remember like Liddle Kiddles, an Alice in Wonderland watch, a Mickey Mouse watch that was “electric” and needed battery (the beginning of the end to the wind up watch), a baby doll early on called Thumbelina that squirmed and moved like a baby. But my brother had the toy I truly wanted, Mattel’s “Thingmaker” and the molds for Creeple Peeple. A little heating unit which could most likely send a kid to the ER with third degree burns melted different colors of PlastiGoop that was squeezed into molds set on the unit – the plastic “set” somehow while emitting unbelievable fumes throughout the whole house while my worried mother, downstairs, would scream up to his room, “You are going to burn the house down – and that awful smell!” He wasn’t banned from using it (I honestly don’t think my parents knew what they were buying when he asked for it and they never took it away from him and I don’t remember any recalls of it being a dangerous toy – which indeed it was) and we ended up with rubber ghoulish monster heads made from the goop that we stuck on our pencils. I can still see the face of one ghoul in particular – you could glue little rhinestones onto the ears of this creature. I can still remember watching my brother cooking that goop in those molds with the stench permeating the air – while he chewed gum. He didn’t let me in his room often but I think he must have felt he had something with his Thingmaker and loved to demonstrate it. He knew I was jealous.

One last thing I want to mention – K-Tel’s 22 Explosive Hits LP. It was advertised on TV nonstop. I knew the order of the songs, the photos of the artists, and I wanted that LP. None of the songs were full length – they were all shortened to fit the 22 songs on this piece of vinyl. There was a song called “Popcorn” by Hot Butter, done on Moog synthesizers (if you don’t know it, check this out and I’m sure it will come back to mind… http://www.blogger.com/. K-Tel LPs and 8 tracks – yes, 8 tracks – were popular during the 1970s. Although I can’t find a You Tube for the commercial for 22 Explosive Hits, this one comes close… http://www.blogger.com/ . My cousin and I both got “22 Explosive Hits” for Christmas one year and we talked about it constantly. There was “Chicaboom” by Daddy Dewdrops, “One Bad Apple” by the Osmonds, “If Not For You” by Olivia Newton-John, and a bunch of songs long forgotten and artists never heard of again. What was so “explosive” about these hits, I am not sure, but my cousin and I thought it was a big deal and we wore our LPs out.

I miss childhood anticipation and those long ago Christmases. I wouldn’t trade it for another era for anything. I can’t hear the music of Vince Guaraldi’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas” without thinking of my childhood – particularly, “Christmas Time Is Here” or “Skating,” imaging snowflakes falling to that lovely piano piece. There were no iPods back then but I was happy listening to AM radio on that transistor. It’s what we had. It was cool to us. There is no more Mr. Jingaling or Santa Claus set up for two weeks after Thanksgiving at the Ben Franklin store in my home town – things change, sometimes sadly – but I remember them, and those memories are always with me.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE – FROM JULES

Sometimes I get to feelingI was back in the old days - long ago
When we were kids, when we were young,
Things seemed so perfect - you know,
The days were endless, we were crazy, we were young,
The sun was always shining - we just lived for fun.

Lyrics to “These Are The Days Of Our Lives” – Queen

Happy Thanksgiving

By Hennessy:

Permit to begin by wishing you all a very Happy Thanksgiving. Perhaps I should say, a Meaningful Thanksgiving. You see, this is the one holiday we gather as family not to exchange toys, gifts, bad fruitcake, or watered down eggnog. This is the day we come together, as family, as friends, as one.

We are where we are because of many things; jobs, childhood homes, family nearby. You are where you are because that is hopefully the ideal place where you are in comfort, peace, and love. True, we only live in houses, but it is what is inside that makes it a home, and so very special. It is the people, the memories, and pictures of your life from a time gone by on the walls. Sometimes, it can be merely the smell of a good meal that rekindles a smile from your mind of when your mom or grandma cooked or baked. Memories; may they never dwindle or disappear.

Thanksgiving is a time of gathering as I have said. We travel this day more than any other to be with those we care so much for, love so dearly, and wish to spend this meaningful day with. Planes, trains and automobiles criss-cross the globe joining loved ones to celebrate a day of cherished times and laughter. We sit at a table, across from one another, and on this day, we talk. I find this humbling as out of the three hundred and sixty five days of they year, we get this day to talk. We speak of all that we have done and been through since we last sat together; the talk is of pride, our accomplishments, a new baby, or maybe grandpa saying he is just glad he woke up today. I find this most amazing that we can cram the previous year into one day of all that we are, of all that we have done. It is a shame we don’t get to do this everyday. I guess we don’t have Ozzie and Harriett for parents and the ‘50’s are just a memory gone by.

For those of you that don’t know a poet by the name of Samuel F. Pugh, I shall introduce him to you. He wrote a poem about our day long ago, I guess back when the words he penned were symbolism over substance. He spoke of having food, but remembering those that went hungry. Work, when others were jobless. A home, and acknowledging that even in his time, some went without. He went on to ask that he remember when he is pain free, that he knows others suffer. Complacency was to be ridden of; it was to be replaced with the understanding he is to help others. For those that cried out for help, give to them, and take nothing for granted. He closed with an Amen. Thank you Mr. Pugh, I too shall do my best in life to honor your wisdom and kindness.

Today, we are to be grateful, thankful and remember why God put us all here. When all of you gather at your tables, and the sights, sounds and smells of this day permeate your mind, give thanks we are not in Baghdad, we are not in an AIDS hospital in Africa, that we are not in a soup line during the Great Depression, and that September 11, 2001, God willing, shall never happen in our lifetime again. Rejoice in the fact that the lights are on, the heat is working and soon after that sumptuous meal, yes, we can all sit back, loosen our pants, and slip deep into that wonderful after turkey food coma. Just don’t forget to buckle when you get up.

As I went to the bakery to get our pecan pies, I passed a car with a license plate bearing the word GR8TFUL. I would be that too if I had the car that the plate was on. But, I have a Harley Davidson, and they don’t, enough said. Yet, that plate got me to thinking about the word "grateful", and just what I am grateful for. This past week here has been rather tumultuous with regards to Jennifer and the treatment she is receiving for her MS. I am not exactly grateful of what it does to her, robs her of and how it saddens me; however, it is helping her to maintain a quality of life she and I can be thankful for. This God forsaken disease has taken away so many things, but it has not worked its evilness and trickery on our souls. I do have to be a caregiver for the rest of my life, but I am grateful that Jennifer smiles at me and tells me I am the bestest caregiver anyone could ever have. It saddens me to hear that, it makes me weep openly and humbles me to no end, but I am grateful and thankful someone in my life lets me know I matter to him or her. And for that, I accept this as a pathway to peace. I cannot think of a better thing in life.

Wherever you are my friends, and whoever is at your home, I sincerely hope that you have a most magnificent day. My table is already set here, the vases of flowers adorn it and I sat and polished the silverware all afternoon. I shall cook and serve Jennifer our holiday meal and after we unfold our hands and our prayers have been said, we shall sit by the candlelight and well, talk. Our Thanksgiving is just ours, just us together. Being together this day, in love, side by side as the candles flicker on in time, is a joyous occasion I shall forever cherish in my heart. I wish this for all of you. May you enjoy your talks on this Thanksgiving day and God bless you all.

Humbled and Blessed

Written By Hennessy:

To think I rode my Harley just three days ago and now there is 3 inches of snow on the ground is rather hard to grasp. But, if you live where we do, you have come to expect this weather as a right of the calendar. Rarely, do we get out of this time of year without snow. Being a biker, I do not exactly welcome this, however, it is time for the seasons to change, and the snow to fly here. What it also indicates is that Thanksgiving is here upon us once again. I love this day, and for it to be snowing is just so much more enjoyable.

As I sit and watch the snow fall slowly from the sky and into our lives, I feel so humbled and blessed. I cant exactly put my finger on it why the snow just makes this particular day so captivating. Any other day it snows I really don’t care to enjoy it, but this day makes it just that much more special. It tells us to be home, for this holiday, together with family and be amongst the ones we care so dearly about. Perhaps knowing that we don’t have to leave the house for any reason is why I am enjoying the snow. It is telling me that there is nothing outside, that the snow is a barrier to hold me in my warm home with the one I so dearly love, my wife, Jennifer. No need to venture into this cold arctic, just stay inside and let the day work its magic into our souls. A day of thanks, a day of love, time to sit together and smile. If there is such a thing as a snow god, I thank him.

This day is not about gifts, malls, returns, or commercialism. It is the one-day of the year we assemble for visiting and family that has really only the purpose of gathering together for friendship. A day to reflect, a time to talk and a setting of peacefulness. The dinner table has been heralded as the pulpit of speeches. We gather and sit amongst our families to visit. No gifts, just talking. A lost art I think that has escaped so many of us. But why? Sure, we make some phone calls long distance, laugh and relive the year we have missed out on together. We wave at the neighbors, maybe even send an email. I don’t really understand why we don’t do this each and every day. What hold does this day have on us that we assemble and tell one another about our last years life’s worth. At least we have this day, we should not be greedy. This day is not for that; it is for cherished moments at the table.

So let it snow then. Let feet of it accumulate and hold us hostage with one another so that the clock does not tell us it is time to go. May the snow fall upon our roofs and blanket us with more time to spend together. Wrap us up in laughter; remind us we can stay for another hour or so before our departures. It is OK... we can shovel later.

My day will be spent in my kitchen. I will leave it to be with my best girl, and sit her down at our table and light the candles and just hold hands in the twinkling of the flickering light. I will hear in my distant memory the words and the laughter that once came from this table. Memories of my father carving the bird as he called it. My mum in her apron. My two brothers side by side across from me. I shall pause, recall, and smile. I wish they were here now with me to talk. Just for this day. I wish the snow would bring them to me. Come home, come back. Just for one day. Sit with Jennifer and I, say hi to Izzy our dog. Bask in the warmth that is our home. Sit, and please stay for just a while.
I can’t wait to cook. I have so looked forward to this day. My mum labored tirelessly to prepare this meal of thanks for our family. To me, it is a labor of love I cannot get enough of. The smells, the taste of the feast; memories. I look back at the Thanksgiving days we have spent together in our marriage. It is storybook and will forever adorn my mind. I am a homer, and this day is my day at home. I love my wife, and home with her is heaven on this earth of ours. So let it snow, keep me inside where I am shielded from the world and let me savor this day and pray to God my many thanks for letting me enjoy it and be here for it. Thanks, for giving us the snow. The heavens have blanketed us with comfort, I for one shall enjoy the quiet storm outside, for I know that in my home, there is just peace inside these four walls. May God bless us and let us be humbled.

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

I know I’m not perfect. No one is. A flawed gemstone isn’t even realized until it cracks in 2. I was close to cracking the last month or so. The flaws, worries and stressors are still being camouflaged to the best of my abilities. I find that deep breaths and wine help, but not as much as my friends.

There are times in my life that I should have taken a right turn but I chose to turn wrong instead. But as StoryPeople so rawly states, I am only strong enough for a life of partial virtue. And that my friends, is why I need a REWIND button. Well, of course WE ALL could use one of those but I find I am in need of one more often than I care to admit. (What the hell is up with that?)

I try not to judge and I ask others to do the same. Thank God for my friends who have had to put up with me a lot the last couple of weeks.

Don’t judge and you’ll never be wrong. Thanks for that.

Things are finally starting to look up a bit but I think some irrevocable damage was done. I was less than pleased with some of the answers I received this week but I’ll deal with it.

You can sew it up but you still see the tear (U2 – The Sweetest Thing).

I’d like to rewind a lot of things I’ve done in life but all we can do is learn from our mistakes, mishaps, and bad choices (no matter how good it felt at the time).

But what do you feed a hungry soul?

And leave it my friend Hennessy to remind me of two very important things:

1. The strongest of us were forged by the hottest fires of hell

2. Three can keep a secret if two are dead

Big thanks. Much love.
_______________________________________________

What do you see when you turn out the light?
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends

Her Name is Misty

Written by Jules:

This morning, I went to Oberlin with my sister to visit a favorite store of mine, Bead Paradise, before we headed to Wellington to hit a wonderful little coffee shop for lunch. My sister was hoping to get ideas for Christmas at the bead store, which is an amazing place - there is so much there that one can become totally overwhelmed and decisions can be difficult at best. After our trip there, we went into a little flower shop so that my sister could look for a card. It was in this little store that I made an encounter that has stayed with me all day, and probably will forever.

I wasn't particularly interested in looking around the store, as my funds were limited and there was nothing I needed, but I soon noticed in the back of the store a small collie dog. The dog was sleeping and not paying much attention to us. Within a few feet of where I was standing, there was another collie. I was not sure if she was friendly. I called to her and after a few attempts, she rose from her position and came to me reluctantly. She let me pet her, but what I noticed right off was a distant, far away feeling from this beautiful dog. She was aloof, a bit afraid. I kept talking to her and she looked at me, but she did not react much. She reminded me of how my calico cat Ginger behaved when she first came to live with us.

Ginger had been a shelter cat, having lived in a cage for at least six months before finally ending up with Erieshores, who put her in a foster home where she lived during the week with a family and other homeless cats. On Saturdays, Ginger and other Erieshores cats went to Petsmart where the hope was someone would adopt her. On a Saturday in late January 2002, I was at Petsmart, and happened to see Ginger. It was 3 months after my calico cat Lily had passed. They looked so much alike. Ginger became a member of our family one week later.

The dog at the flower store, I learned from the lady who owned her, had lived in a kennel for 7 years - her entire life. She lived in a cage and was kept for breeding purposes. At some point, her vocal cords had been snipped to prevent her from barking. The beautiful collie's name was Misty. Her owner told me that Misty has had very little socialization. When they adopted her, she wanted only to go into a cage they kept in their house. They soon realized they couldn't let her stay at home during their work hours so they brought her to the store. They have had her for three months. Misty does not wag her tail. She does not seem to be able to react back to affection or attention. But after three months, her new owners feel she has made some progress. They were told it could take as long as a year to help her acclimate to a loving home and respond back. After sitting on the floor in this flower shop, petting Misty and talking quietly to her, my heart broke. I could have cried.

I do know, though, that on the one day a week my son has his guitar lesson, and my husband and I go for burritos at Agave Burrito Bar, we are also going to visit Misty in that flower shop to see how she is doing and to get to know her a little better. I want to see light in this beautiful dog's eyes and not the fear and emptiness I saw today. With the owners who have her now, I believe strongly that in time, just like my cat Ginger, that Misty will come around. She has a chance now. She has a chance to know a life with caring and loving people.

President-Elect Barack Obama's election night speech in which he told his daughters that they had earned a new puppy and that puppy would be going with them to the White House, has captured the attention of the media, but especially the attention of those who work with or are committed to animals in shelters. The family hopes to adopt a shelter dog. And I hope they do too. It will send a message out that it is absolutely THE RIGHT THING TO DO and perhaps can help other dogs like Misty and cats like Ginger get good homes with people who will love them.

"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace." - Milan Kundera

Girls' Night Out - West Virginia Style

I know. I’m so very more New York Style (which might be the next destination) and I’ll be the first to admit the housing in the area was more than frightening (and those were the homes that didn’t have their Halloween decorations out yet), but an animal grooming business called “Doggie Style” made us laugh out loud despite ourselves!

Welcome to West Virginia!

And yes, just like Vegas, what happens in West Virginia, stays in West Virginia…at least to some extent.

Mountaineer Casino was the destination of choice. A friend of ours had been there numerous times and thus the idea was born…I planned “Girls’ Night Out.”

It was a beautiful drive down. The fall foliage was amazing and vibrant. The earthy hues of nature surrounded us as we talked and giggled and almost missed several important exits!

I thought how much Hennessy might like to ride his bike this way because he spoke so adoringly of this season. I thought how thrilled we all were to be getting away from the stressors we have – and boy do we have them! I thought of some other friends and one other person I might enjoy spending this much time with – on a destination to fun and trouble. The mind wanders…lost in fantasy and far from reality, which, after all, was the point of the trip.

The narrow bridge we took over from OH to WV had our driver white-knuckled. I didn’t look down. I prayed with my eyes closed and teeth clenched. I needed a glass of wine, or three, or maybe a bottle.

We had the car valet parked. I checked us in. I was still a little nervous it might not pan out as planned. You see, I had to rely on others, which I hate to do, but it was necessary… he said he’d make the call. Sometimes people offer to do things and they don’t come through. This was not the case. (I, of course had a PLAN B). There was absolutely no problem at all though and, instead of 11:00 AM, we received a NOON check out. SWEET!

He gave the word.

Our rooms were COMPED.

Nice.

Ravenous after the trek, we went to Gatsby’s for burgers. (Next time, we’ll try the 5-star Restaurant, La Bonne Vie). After that, a quick tour of the casino and then, time to gamble. Some of the slots were silly (CashSquatch, MIB, etc) but they paid. It was cool to spin a “bonus” which could last anywhere from 5 seconds to a couple of minutes. We moved to various games and hit on and off. It was addictive. We laughed, we joked, spent money, we ate, drank, won money. Everyone was friendly and having a good time. Deeper into the night, it became increasingly more difficult to find an open machine. The place got packed – quick! Noise, smoke and lights filled the casino and you couldn’t help but get caught up in it all.

Being from Ohio, it was strange (and a bit rancid) to see people smoking inside. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run away or light up myself. I did neither. Later that night we hit the Mahogany Piano Bar and treated ourselves to more cocktails along with Gorgonzola Dip and focaccia bread baked with sun-dried tomatoes. Rich and delicious! Dirty martinis came with olives stuffed with almonds.

The next morning, we hit Gatsby’s again for a quick breakfast. Blueberry pancakes, Belgium Waffles, sides of protein and lots and lots of coffee. We gambled a bit more before heading home.

The sun peaked out on and off to brighten the reds, yellows and oranges coloring the leaves of trees located in the gully and valleys on either side of us. We couldn’t believe how beautiful Ohio truly was during the season of autumn. We breathed it all in remembering that winter would soon be upon us once again.

And so, we decided, whether COMPED again or not,

“We’ll have to do this again.”
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Ships are only safe in harbor
But that's not what ships were built for

Keeping The Faith - At Least Trying To

Another submission from our friend Jules. Enjoy:

“I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.
I believe in love, even when I cannot feel it.
I believe in God, even when He is silent.”

Written on the walls of a basement in Cologne, Germany, by a Jew in hiding during the Holocaust.

Faith is not an easy thing to me to write about, but I’m going to try. My faith, that is. I’ve always been interested in the faith of others and how they make it work in their lives, obviously making comparisons to my own struggles with belief and trust in God. I would not call myself a particularly religious person, although I have been raised Catholic from the get go and had strong religious influences growing up. Some of them were comforting, and some of them were scary. Today, I have to admit that my thoughts regarding my personal faith have a “confused” aspect to them, since I was taught that God loves, but God also punishes. Prayer life consisted of praying for the sick, those already gone, for something bad to get better and yes, at a more immature stage, for personal things I wanted for myself. Prayer was structured prayers and a little conversation added on for the personal stuff.

I’ve been praying since I could talk and was told to say my prayers. A younger “me” believed in the power of prayer and the answers that came, not always in the obvious way one might expect. Novenas weren’t something to sneeze at. Like everyone else on the planet, I have had hard times physically and emotionally, some difficult and some not as difficult as what others have to face. I felt God was there for me. So what happened? Over the years, my prayer life has taken on a more apprehensive angle – it’s gotten harder. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe. There are times, many times, when I feel myself praying to the air around me, alone. And that silence – well, let’s say I’ve “heard” that silence quite often, and I cannot not help but feel total isolation and abandonment from God. Hope sometimes goes down the drain.

I know that life is no piece of cake – it’s damned hard at times. We have no choice but to learn to accept. Some things, of course, take longer to accept, and some are perhaps never accepted – and this accumulation of loss, a fact of life we cannot escape, can strip your heart of hope. And how can a person live without hope?

Perhaps knowing, through the honesty of others that I am not alone in these feelings has given me a kind of courage, in a way. Opening up to a Catholic priest about the same age as myself, and also to a wonderful sister at the convent of my parish, I have learned that even the most seemingly religiously “intact” among us also feel this spiritual aloneness. I have desperately appreciated their honesty and sincerity in talking about the ups and downs of their faith. They made me feel less “guilty” about my thoughts, less of an agnostic because they, too, fluctuate in the strength and weakness of their faith. I expected to be chastised, but I wasn’t. I found common ground with these people – people who have dedicated their lives to God and the life of the religious. They sacrificed marriage and children to lives in service to a God they cannot visually see, a God they cannot personally have a one-on-one conversation with. They don’t think that much different than I do – well, that may be taking it a step too far, but I felt a lot better about myself for the conversations that we had.

A book written about Mother Teresa was released a few years ago – an account of her spiritual journey and, ironically to those who held her in high regard as the Saint of Calcutta, her spiritual darkness. I doubt she intended for her most personal thoughts, written in letters, to one day be published in a book about her life, but nevertheless, her most private thoughts about her faith, and sometimes lack of faith, were published. Some people were surprised by such admissions that this Nobel Peace prize winner for her humanitarian efforts had her doubts and maybe they were disappointed by this revelation. To a trusted spiritual director, she wrote, “…the place of God in my soul is blank – there is no God in me… He is not there… Sometimes, I feel my own heart cry out, “My God” and nothing else comes – the torture and pain I can’t explain.” I was grateful for her honesty. I felt little less alone myself to read such words from a woman who devoted her life to doing God’s work and helping the poor, even when she felt that silence. But Mother Teresa didn’t give up. I think of all the people she helped, prayed for, administered to, showed kindness and love toward when she felt her own private spiritual darkness. Yet she was a light in a dark world for a lot of people who were desperate for the basic of human needs. I admire her more now just knowing how she personally felt, as well as the sacrifices and good that she did.

The Serenity Prayer – the prayer of AA, the prayer of accepting, courage and wisdom. That prayer actually says a lot of life and coping. I really like that prayer and try to keep it in the back of my mind as much as I can, when I feel discouraged, and am having problems coping with the cold and heartless realities we all must face. It is a good thing to focus on – a little hope in a dark and confusing world. And we have to have hope – as difficult as it may be sometimes to really hang on to when the going gets rough. But without hope, you may as well never get up in the morning. The world is too difficult a place to cope without it – faith too. People search for meaning and purpose in their lives and maybe sometimes we just aren’t going to find it in the way we want. My faith may have its ups and downs and I may fluctuate during the course of a day. I will have my doubts and my fears. I’m human. I am geared to question. I hope God understands. Because I have to believe He is there, in all this silence.

Changing Seasons Changing Lives

(Written By Hennessy)

Autumn.

Fall.

We have come to recognize this season of the year by both names. I prefer autumn. It just sounds prettier and conjures up a nice image in my mind. The colors of the leaves appear to be prettier when I think of autumn. I guess fall is a signal to a change coming, a time when something disappears, and reappears as something else.

Winter.

I am not fond of winter, especially since I live in Cleveland, Ohio. Even though I prefer autumn, things did change for me in my life, and I suppose that is why I don’t like fall. Wake me up, when September ends.

I say that because of my brother, Bill. I lost him in September and, in October, I lost my brother, Mark. Fall; the fall of my brothers. That is why I prefer autumn. Perhaps I fell too after they left me. I wonder if I ever made it back up again. Sometimes I am not so sure now that both of them are not with me anymore. Two people I sometimes think I have let slip from my mind. Two brothers I need yet they don’t answer me when I call to them. The silence is maddening at times; not hearing or seeing them anymore. To have them both gone is just tragically sad for me. I miss them terribly. I wonder a lot what we would have been like as brothers now at this time and age of our respective lives. I can only wonder, as they are not here to let me witness what might have been.

Perhaps this season of change is something that I don’t really understand since I feel so sad that my brothers cannot share in it; this special time of nature. It is rather cruel I feel that we cannot be as family and talk about just how pretty it is now. I do feel rather lost watching the leaves turn to brilliant colors without them. Maybe watching the changes in the leaves is telling me that life changes, and that even though the leaves do disappear, they do return. Could it be that nature is telling me that they are here, and have returned in spirit and are with me now? I will ponder this always and wonder if it is true. When the leaves all come back, are they there? Are they both as full of life as the newly adorned trees are? Can they see me as I see them? I wonder.

When my memory of them rests, I shall never forget what I lost. Wake me up, when September ends. Summer has come to pass, the innocence can never last, wake me up, when September ends. Every memory of walking out the front doorI found the photo of the two that I was looking for. It is hard to say it, but time to say it, good-bye, good-bye my brothers. Let my wishes be those that one day you return to me in spirit, like the returning leaves that left in autumn. May they be bright, full of life, and always wave in the wind, a sign telling me you are there.

I do like autumn, and this change it brings me each crisp day when the leaves are beginning to come down. It helps me relive those days I so wish I could have just one more time. I know there is a time where there will be a return of innocence. Watching as the leaves change, from one shade to the next, makes me aware that you cant keep things constant. Time and change are a given as they never stop for even one minute, one day, one year. Seasons come and go, memories are made in each, yet memories of days from the past are lived during this time as well. Perhaps this is what I long for, a change that brings them back, not just as a memory, but also as my brothers and their spirits. I will continue to watch the leaves change, be swept away by the wind, and think of them and smile. Maybe that breeze is them laughing, speaking to me. I hope so. Till then, I will wake when September ends, and wait for them. Come back Bill and Mark, come back to me. Do you see the tears in my eyes as the sun sets here? Do you see me waiting for you? Let me know when you are here with me. I would love to be your brother once again as my life needs that void filled you left me with. I am not angry, just lonesome for your faces. I miss you. Just wake me when you get here.

Milestone

My friend Jules had been dreading a certain event with a little fear and apprehension. She captured it as best she could in words. She needed to express this for herself and for others, and so, I offered this blog as a safe haven of sorts. Please read and enjoy Jules very first post below. We hope she will continue to contribute here along with Hennessy and me.
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I turned 50 years old this past spring. It was something I had thought about for years - – the reality of actually being a half a century in age. It was not something I was looking forward to. I saw the age of 50 as an end to whatever “youth” was still left in me, as if it was the truly “over the hill” mark. I would no longer be looked at the same way, valued the same way, as if outside forces in my life were all the mattered – what others thought. I felt a certain amount of “stigma” attached to being a 50-year-old woman. For a good five years, I didn’t like saying my age either – I’m 45, 46…” But telling someone I was 49, well, I might as well have said I was already 50. I spent the winter months before my birthday (I am not a winter person anyway) pondering this inevitable birthday with total dread.

There was no awakening to the acceptance of being 50. It just came. In retrospect, my biggest critic about this age thing was no one other than myself. I bought into the idea of 50 being something negative, and it was me who attached that label of “over the hill” and “end of youth” to who I am. The Buddha quote, “You are what you think, and with your thoughts you make the world” made a whole lot of sense to me. Maybe turning 50 is something honorable - even if this world is obsessed with youth and being superficial.

I found it was far worse to think about turning 50 than being 50. I had friends who did kind things for my birthday – gave me interesting and unique gifts – friends who treated me to lunch, family who gave me not one but two birthday parties. I quite honestly think that my 50th birthday was possibly one of the nicest, if not the nicest birthday in my memory. It was because others went out of their way to make me feel special. And I did. All 50 years of me.

The actress Jamie Lee Curtis turned 50 last fall, about 5 months before I did. She has, in the past year, embraced who she is, not ashamed to pose on the cover of a magazine in her underwear showing her middle-aged body (she still looked pretty good to me though) with no makeup. She’s okay with her age. Yes, she looks older than she once did but somehow she emits a vitality that to me is far more attractive than being a physically youthful 20 something. I quote her thoughts about aging, “Aging is God’s way of telling me there is no time to waste.” She views life now as a time to shed bad behavior, work on the good, to continue to grow and be happy in who you are. She’s right. In the past year, I’ve worked to drop a few pounds, embark on a walking program for health benefits as well as a time to clear my head of all the crap this world throws at me that I often can’t do a thing about. I like the idea of “shedding” the negatives – the thoughts, the bad habits, a few pounds, and work on making what I can’t change things I move away from, or learn to accept.

“Forty is the old age of youth. Fifty is the youth of old age.”
~Victor Hugo

On Year Later...

They said to me: "It will be interesting to see where your life is a year from now…”

A year after I lost my job because I wouldn’t move/conform …

A year after I lost my work-friends…some who lost their jobs for the same reason as me…some who hung on but wondered for how long…

A year after I lost my comfort zone…

A year after I lost my seniority, vacation, freedom…

A year after I lost my “untouchable-ness” and security and semi-golden-girlness…

After several years of just losing it all…

I’m still here.

My one-year work anniversary came and went like any other day. No congratulations, no cake, no pop, no mention, no nothing. The day before, my boss offered some semblance of recognition but only because he would be out of town the next few days and knew I considered that a “gift” in and of itself! Plus I reminded him repeatedly (think monetarily here) but to no avail.

My former boss would have remembered.

Mostly, I just wanted the raise. The rest I knew.

At my former gig, they would have had my review and raise prepared ahead of time. I would have received a commemorative key chain and, much smoke would have been blown up my ass. I wouldn’t realize it until years later, of course.

Supposedly my review and raise will be forthcoming.

Have I mentioned I’m jaded?

Too bad when he came to visit or rather made his “rounds” (as I like to call them) today, I was on the phone…all I got was the handshake…not the never-ending type…no shoulder squeeze…barely a gaze into the eyes because I was on an unimportant phone call.

Working.

Of course he couldn’t be expected to realize… but part of me can’t help but wonder if there would be some minute flash of disappointment across his face for the lack of knowing or not being foretold… that after all the changes, they didn’t do right by "one of us”. Especially the “one of us” he felt compelled to issue a bonus too. (It seems that a bonus in general is done rarely and whole-heartedly, unlike reviews.)

The “one of us” who had to answer all the tough questions with honesty and integrity because she was going to give him a chance and a very ever-elusive piece of trust to eventually break into fragments. Probably.

They don’t know what it’s like outside of “their” realm of reality. Sometimes you need to go outside the bubble and beyond the gate to see the real world that exists.

I think it’s high time I burst the bubble.

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

(A prediction that, by being voiced, causes itself to come true.)

Well then, I want to be happy and healthy and I want my friends and family to be happy and healthy too…being content will not suffice! I predict it and I belive it and I’ve voiced it.

If only it were that simple.

When he asked me those very pointed questions and I answered as honestly as ever, I told him I went on my interviews and truly didn’t care one way or the other about any one job in particular because I knew I had to land on my feet and that I would…there was no other option. That wasn’t a prediction per se, but a belief and goal and moreover, a FACT!

BUT – to land somewhere decent, was a bonus and a surprise. OK. It was a flippin’ SHOCK. But how long would it last?

The day we found out we were being terminated (because we “chose not too”/refused to relocate), I knew I would land another job – depending on one’s willingness to “give a little” we can all land other jobs…but what kind of job and how willing of a decrease in pay and status one was willing to take was another subject all together. But to land a job where you actually like what you are doing (most of the time), well…If I look at it clearly, I really didn’t give up much. Clarity isn’t by strongest suit though.

I like my job. It’s a little miracle. Especialy when the benefits kind of suck (compared to what you were used too) yet thankfully your boss is willing to “work” with you if you know your stuff. Thank goodness I know my stuff. I almost ended up at a bank. That seems pretty comical now considering all things.

So, as I was saying, I knew I would land a job but to land a damn good one was…? Was it a self fulfillijg prophecy because I believed in it and said it out loud? Did it have anything to do with karma or fate? LUCK? Is it a credit to me at all? Is it surprising that my two predecessors didn’t last more than a year? Was the job THAT difficult or was there something I was missing?

My friend landed his new job well before me. There was so much pride and happiness. No one deserved it more. Big smiles all around. But one year later, my friend goes to work every day taking a huge paycut and hating the job…my friend begins the dreaded job search all over again. This scares the hell out of me. Mostly, I just feel dank inside that his happines was short-loved and fleeting. Selfishly, I can’t help but wonder if I too will become part of this statistic? Will I want to leave a year or so later for greener and brighter pastures? Do they even exist? I can see the flaws in the current system I call “my job” and “my workplace”… and there are ways to prevent and repair them. However, saying you’ll support me and actually being supportive are two very different animals. Beasts. Demons. The “trust” is not there. So much of me is still jaded. We’re still so mistrusting. Sometimes we feel like we’re on the Island of Misfit Toys.

It makes me wonder how and why I landed here though. Fate? Luck? Karma? Self-Fulfilling Prophecy? Honestly I don’t have a clue.

It makes me wonder how my friend landed THERE. Miserable. Was it fate? Karma?
Honestly? No way. No clue. We must have to pass these tests and trials and tribulations…and ultimately choose our courses more or less wisely based on stricter or losser criteria. Clear as MUD! Sometimes you do things for yourself and sometimes you do them for others. You do the best you can with the cards you are dealt. Sometimes decisions are clouded and sometimes there is just a thick fog you can’t cut through. Clarity comes too late too often.

He doesn’t say much but he slowly turns his gaze into this evil, intimidating squint and stare-down. I return the favor before I gradually look away, trying not to vrack a smile, and focus on the event at hand. Like his father before him, he toys with people to demand respect and to obtain information. It’s all bullshit. But you play the game to keep your employment, to stay in good graces and to let them think they are manipulating you when they are simply playing into your hand without the slightest notion. And eventually, when the timing is just right, you go for the jugular…to get what you want…because no matter where we end up, like it or not, we have to conform at least slightly and play the game.

If only it were that simple.

I predict another very interesting year for us.

Beware of Falling Shoes (Truth IS Stronger Than Hope)

I see God upon the ceiling
I see angels overhead
And he seems so close
As he reaches out his hand
We are never quite as close
As we are led to understand
(When I Dream of Michelangelo/Counting Crows/Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings)

I relate to these lyrics. So poignant and obvious that God never seems to be as close as we want him to be. Like the way he appears to Adam with fingers barely touching (upon the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel). We could only hope to be so close. So close and yet so far. Just out of reach. Like many, many, many things.

Sometimes he’s closer than you think.

I hold onto hope like a lifeline. It’s different than faith yet similar. Some people lose faith – for
awhile, forever, for good reasons and for poor ones too. We have one life. You want to have faith in it and in the people in your life. Regrettably, faith can be lost. If and when it happens, the best you can do is hold on to hope. They are intertwined. Connected. Never lose both.

I remember hoping to land a certain job and doing so. I remember hoping to keep a job and it slipping away in front of me like sand through your fingers. I kept trying to scoop in up and hold onto it. Contain it. It turned into water...then air. Invisible but somehow giving me something to breathe in and…hope for.

I’d learn new techniques and take new classes. They’d offer me false hope, which is better than no hope at all. I’d throw myself into it and make it my primary focus to the point of obsession – to the point of OCD actually. It still slipped away – just of reach. HOPE would spring it’s beautiful notions to me and rumors would lead me to believe I could be saved. Liars. Judases! And then it all came crashing down. The ones I counted on to save me simply could not. They were not happy about that. I was unhappier than they will ever know. I lost my security blanket. I lost my mega vacation days, sick days, my comfort zone. I was once untouchable. I liked that spot. I miss it.

I had faith that the certain powers that be could protect me from the ugliness - the foreboding bittersweet panic that would ensue. They couldn’t. But they wanted too. That had to mean something to someone besides me. It didn’t. Exceptions for one meant exceptions for all.

You can’t have that. THEY couldn’t have that.

Truth is stronger than hope. I lost again.

I would start over…I would have no choice but to start over.

From scratch.

With nothing.

…and yet it would not be the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I knew I would land on my feet because I had no other option. I told him that later on. It was an ultimate truth that was known and accepted long before I could ever speak it out loud. It was nice to get the opportunity to tell someone who would be a little amazed by it. Baffled.

I would hope to do all of it with grace and dignity. Faith crept in along the way. Faith in myself. Faith in starting over. Faith in landing a job with my own capabilities with no help from anyone.

Maybe I’d be OK.

I could only hope to survive and yet had faith that I would – no matter what - there was no other acceptable option. That was the resounding and annoying advice in my head...there is no other acceptable option." (Key word: acceptable)

I had hoped that someone would see this seeding dandelion as a chance for wishes (come true) and wonders and WOWS instead of a potential for weeds.

I struggle with faith – like many. I’m grateful for friends and people like Ann Lamott who write books and admit their struggles too. Good to know one is not alone in times of strife. Misery loves company, right?

The truth is that loss is a part of life. He couldn’t be saved and neither could I. People lose jobs. People lose lives. Hardly a comparison. She lost the use of her limbs. They lost a child. He lost his freedom. We lost our 4-day work weeks. Wait…that’s hardly a comparison.

Everything after that was nothing. I had hoped for a better outcome. What I got was the truth. What I know is this:

Truth is stronger than hope.

Somehow, we have to be strong enough to handle the truth. Perhaps that is where faith kicks in.

Too many times, I felt like I was at the epicenter – the point directly above the place where things would start to shake and become scary as hell. And I survived that. Losing a job was nothing to me because I had lost so much more already. We have all lost things that meant more to us than a job or… a 4-day workweek.

It was my empirical belief that once one shoe fell the other would surely follow.

I can only hope that enough time passes to make me stronger between the shoe falls…to make us all stronger between shoe falls.
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God, it’s so painful, something that’s so close
And still so far out of reach…
(American Girl/Tom Petty/Remake by Goo Goo Dolls)
(Click the link for this...it ROCKS!)

Let Go...Let God

(Written By Hennessy)

When does one stop the insanity and break all the rules to stand up for someone or something that you hold in your heart and it is the right thing to do? When do you quit believing what you are being told and take matters into your own hands? At what point in your life do you become so frustrated that you make a leap of faith and go against all odds to get what it is that you so desire?

It is now. Time has ticked on for too long and I am not waiting anymore. Enough is enough.

I have this vision of a scenario in my head that has been there for quite a while now. It has lain dormant for too long. It has also been spurred to come forward out of the shadows and into hopeful fruition by a recent event. A man amongst men has passed just a month ago and I have become incensed to see that a legacy that has not been born yet happens. I do this not for him alone, but for all who suffer terrible inflictions of incurable diseases. I do this more so for my wife, Jennifer. I am sick of political rhetoric, lies, mindless double speak and the incessant babble I am hearing from our government regarding stem cell research. I realize I am up against Goliath here, not to mention the Bible, but I am tired of it all. I am weary of watching my wife day after day struggle just to walk a few steps. I have grown despondent and have realized I need to be her martyr. I need to be so many things to her; this one is not going to be easy.

With my back up against the wall and with insurmountable challenges and odds, I still feel like I can muster this endeavor. If a person does not stand for something, they will fall for anything it is said. I stand for Jennifer because she needs me to help her stand. Being in one another’s shadows forces you to learn that person almost as much as you know of yourself. You become one with them. You want so badly to have it all, not for yourself, but for them. It is a battle sometimes, and you win some, but you don’t win the war. That is what I want to erase; the war. I want it over and I want it now. I can’t bare it sometimes to see her struggle with the simplest of tasks. Walking is a chore. I am scared for her and I cry a lot when she is not around. I am tired of crying. I am tired of bad answers to our questions. I am tired of red tape, protocol, being silent, and excuses. I feel at times we are being lied to about a cure. A cure? When? That is my question. Enough with the poisons, the exams, the bullshit. I want more.

I want to confront the highest person known who can answer, and I do mean answer to my satisfaction, my questions. Why? When? It is all drugs, nothing else. That’s just maintenance. That is bullshit and not good enough. How much longer are we to believe there is no cure on some horizon for this disease? Are we being led to think that someday there will come this cure? I get so frustrated anymore. I am not one to continue to be told what I think are lies and misgivings. How about all the drug companies that came out of nowhere a few years back with maintenance drugs. One day there was nothing, then BOOM--- 3 choices. I find this all hard to accept. I watch every day as my wife struggles to do the simplest of things. It just tears at me to see this. She and I were not ones to think bad things would ever happen to us, and now look. When does it all just stop?

Today was an especially good and bad day. So many things went right. And then it hit her, like bricks falling out of the sky. Too many to dodge and get out of the way from. Why? We had such a nice day together; in a flash it all went sour. That is what just amazes me as how quickly things can change. Almost in an instant, you go from greatness to dismal. It has such an odd way of playing with you, toiling with your emotions along the way. The fairness of this unexplainable phenomenon is a mystery that has to have an answer. I struggle to understand the complexity of it all. The emotional roller coaster is sometimes a ride I wish not to ever go on; yet, I have no choice but to ride along. Each turn, every slope or down hill is always a new venture that grips you and holds onto you and never gives a second thought to let go. Racing emotions, turbulent, bumpy feelings and all your thoughts and fears run the course along side one another. Some days, I just want to get off this ride, but I can’t, nor do I really want to.

I don’t think that any time soon I am going to get my answers to my questions. I tease my wife about all the questions she asks of others, or of me, but she wants to be well informed and I think that she is just that. Her ability to learn is staggering since most people feel they have learned just enough in life or about life to try and get along in life. Those are the ones that drift aimlessly without any sort of compass or direction as to where they are headed. I wish to be more like her; aware and focused and smart. I adore this quality in her. It is just one of the many emotions of love I have for her. She is everything to me. For this reason, I just want for her to enjoy being who she is. I so wish for her to be happy in life and savor all that is at her feet and for the taking. I want answers because I want her well and want something good to happen again in her life.

That vision probably wont happens either. My scenario is with the government, asking them questions and looking for answers. I am not an athlete, a movie star, rock star or anyone famous. I am I. I have nothing to offer, yet plenty to give. I am who I am and I cannot be the one to change what is so desperately needed in a cure for this. So close, yet oceans and hemispheres away. That is hard to take sometimes; it’s a big dose to swallow. You just imagine how much better you want it for your wife yet you can’t stand up and scream, “Listen to me!” All I have is the hope in my heart for her. A hope with a burning light that won’t be put out, even for lack of trying, to get those elusive answers. I can’t fight the government. I am not powerful enough. But I will never give up or give in and I will do all in my powers for my wife.

That higher power I earlier spoke of is not the government. It’s much more human and kind. That power I seek is God. I need to pray more and do it more than anything else. This is where my answers will be coming from - no place else. I shall seek the high heaven above and ask for miracles. As if answers aren’t enough, I want a miracle too. Perhaps, it will come in the form of something being done for everyone. Let God be our light and our hope. Through prayer, perhaps I will find out in my lifetime that perhaps this will all just one day go away because of a cure. Is it stem cells? I don’t know. It seems to be the answer. Let it be. God in Heaven let it be. I pray for my wife God, please here my prayers and help her. Let her live life God; let her live it in any, which way she wants. Answer her prayers as she seeks guidance from you. Reach down and help her. Come to her aid, please. Give her strength, give her freedom to move and walk. Take away any pain from her and release her from the grip she has wrapped around her. I have yelled enough. I have come to the realization I won’t get my answers from anyone but you.

I scream for something to be done. I whisper to you, Dear God, grant her every wish. Give her and I the power to hold onto the hope that someday, there will be something amazingly good that comes from all of this. We have changed, we have adapted. We have held onto our hopes and dreams. Yet we seek you for more help. I ask now that you help us get her over that rainbow to the other side where is peaceful. She is my sunshine, in our life there is much rain; with your help, we ask that you build us that rainbow from that sun and rain.

Lord, hear our prayers.

The Riders, The Witch and The Wardrobe

I had the pleasure of hanging out with Hennessey and company one night.

I heard the roar of the bikes and met some of their riders. I learned a few things about friendship, brotherhood, history, freedom, and rider names.

We also met a very nice witch - a practicer of Wicca. She would give Glenda a run for her money.

I’m grateful to have “Henny” as my friend and feel completely honored that he asked me to be part of his inner circle and safe haven. The Inner Sanctum if you will.

It’s always good to escape reality whenever possible. But when an event occurs that enables you to do just that, the first question that comes to mind is, what’s a girl to wear? My posse and I came dressed in black tops – of course – because that’s always a safe bet. My Harley Davidson wedge sandals were obviously the right choice.

The way one dresses reflects much about them – not just their personal style, or lack thereof, but also, like riding, their sense of freedom. Some of us are obviously “free-er” than others. The idea of ‘less is more’ was not lost here tonight however, we were cool and classy and that wasn’t lost either.

So there we were with a crowd of ‘bad boys’ (and girls) that ended up being a bunch of good guys (and girls). And we were invited back. I was also given the honor of open invitation to the clubhouse, though I don’t have a clue where it is.

That might be a good thing.

I am definitely looking forward to my next adventure.

Aren’t you?

A Perfect Day

A Perfect Day...no such thing!

Usually, for me, a good day consists of pizza, wine, laughter and good company. I’m very easy... TO PLEASE, that is.

Sometimes, you have a perfect day. They are rare. Few and far between. But you recognize them instantly. Your hair turns out right. Your makeup looks better than usual. The outfit works (it makes you look thin, even though you need to shed a few pounds). You feel good. No headaches, no vertigo, no shit! And you’re about to hang out with a friend you don’t get to see and hang out with as often as you’d like.

The trek to your destination isn’t a straight shot and there is plenty of construction. You master it with ease. The semi threatening to throw you into the concrete wall decides you can live. Thanks buddy. Thank God!

You ignore your ringing phone.

The sun is shining.

The shoes, 4-inch stilettos, are comfy. Ah, gotta love Gabriella Rocha (Zappos, of course)!

Linkin Park (Shadow of the Day) is blaring through the speakers.

You arrive at your destination just waiting to hang out, relax, drink, laugh, shop, eat and drink a little more. It’s a great day. You know it’s great because you’ve finished a bottle of wine before 11:00 A.M. You know it’s great because it is over in what feels like a blink of the eye. So worth it.

It’s like the day I met my favorite band. It was over in a nano-second but OH SO WORTH IT. You wouldn’t trade it for anything and leave wondering when it’s going to happen again and worry that it won't.

We hit Standing Rock Gallery and I did major damage. Then, we were off to Don Drumms. MAJOR DAMGE x 2 (and then some)! If we had more money, we could have lived there for the remainder of the weekend. Just the most eclectic, beautiful, original, mind blowing pieces of rareness and authenticity and beauty and coolness you could ever behold. Probably my favorite gallery of all I have visited (to date).

I bought my first drawing by Brian Andreas (www.storypeople.com). It’s OK – you either get him or you don’t. We do. You might. Check it out.

After excellent white wine and homemade salsa (regular and mango – both to die for), we hit Chrissy Hynde’s restaurant, The Vegi-terannian, for more wine (of course) and appetizers. We ordered the pizza which, to be honest, we labeled as “salad on bread” but it was good. We also treated ourselves to “Chrissy fries” which, minus the dollop they call cheese (this is vegan my friends, get with the program), were excellent. We could handle the vegan ketchup but the cheese was just another story altogether. I’m not there yet. I love the idea of vegan, and am getting close to incorporating it but you’ve got to make better cheese. I don’t quite dig ricotta to begin with but what they threw on the fries, was, well, indescribable! I know. I try to adhere to the “eat nothing with a face” philosophy and I do so believe in it. But this cheese was…unnatural. UN-FOODLIKE! Sorry.

Still, a great place to try and try again.

I left my friend way too early but wanted to beat the traffic and construction. Let’s face it, Friday afternoon traffic sucks. We’re all in a hurry to get home and enjoy the beginning of our weekend. Fortunately, mine was already off to an unforgettable start.

My drive home was a breeze. I sat outside with one more glass of wine, the sunshine, the cerulean blue sky, a little music in my head, and a little peace and quiet. A little stolen moment of serenity that was all mine after a very fun and exciting day. A day filled with laughter and sunshine, wine and wonders, treasures and friendship…and all around…

A perfect day with a treasured friend.

Fight or Flight?

I want to have more clarity than I do. Most of the time I fly by the seat of my pants or put out all the fires that spark, flash and spit - then try to engulf me.
Sometimes I stay and fight.
Other times I flee the scene.

I want to be more grounded.

I want to be proactive versus reactive.

I used to be.

Funny when you don’t recognize those things you knew so well about yourself.
But that’s what’s cool about starting over. No one knows you and you can be whoever and whatever you want to be.
Sort of a re-creation.
Still you, but with better nuances.

It’s hard for me to be “committed” to much of anything. There are plenty of reasons for that. Get to close and the illusion is forever spoiled. I don’t want to get too comfortable either – because then you don’t see it coming.

I hate that.

So, among other things, working 5 days a week after several wonderful years of 4 day work weeks – well – it’s claustrophobic to my very being! It messes with my semblance of sanity. With me, occasionally, it’s FIGHT OR FLIGHT. Sometimes I just need to go. Get out. Be FREE. If not, I’ll fight you for all the reasons that make sense and every one that doesn’t. I don’t mean to be combative. I just need to know that I can walk away, from anything…
...and this time, it’s my choice.

I’ve been leaving early and taking days off work pretty much all summer. A caged bird can’t fly but it also won’t sing.

It will sing for freedom.

I want to sing.

So they have to set me free... for a week…

…And if I come back…

…Then it was meant to be.

I WILL COME BACK…

…But that’ll be our secret. Don’t tell them!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These are the things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this.
One step – One prayer – I soldier on, simulating moving on
~Alanis Morissette/The Torch/Flavors of Entanglement

Sometimes solutions aren’t so simple
Sometimes goodbye’s the only way
~Linkin Park/Shadow of the Day/Minutes to Midnight

I Believe...That you can keep going long after you think you can't
~Unknown

Good Graces

At my former gig, I was ingrained in the midst of some very astute, forward-thinking individuals. We worked "beyond well" together.

It was wonderful.

I was untouchable.

I loved it.

I was finally getting those ever-elusive dangling carrots – AKA bonuses!

I was told to ride this ‘wave’ for as long as I could.

That was the plan.

It was short-lived.

Fast forward to my current gig. I received a thank you card and check from them.

A BONUS check.

Correction – a SWEET BONUS CHECK for my "hard word and dedication throughout the year." Funny, I haven't even been there a year yet.

Impressive.

It took some mystery solving skills to figure out the “WHO” (as in “WHO” said to give me the bonus, and yes, I should be more concerned with they “WHY”), but I think it is safe to say, I’m in good graces once again…

And this time…

I plan to stay there.

Whatever it takes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Faith is believing that one of two things will happen,
That there will be something solid for you to stand on
Or
That you will be taught to fly.”

~Unknown

The Dance

(Written by Jeff; Posted by Kellie)

My movie. I wish to write one. It will be about love, about my wife, about us, and what two soul mates do to enrich one another’s life. It will be a true story, not fiction in any way at all; love is never fictitious or blinded. It will be beautiful, because she is beautiful. Like I said, beauty and the truth.

She is beautiful. I have a special song I play and let the words wander through my mind as I sit and listen to it over and over. The words are extremely powerful, enlightening, and they let us know we are beautiful. Trying hard to fill the emptiness, the puzzle undone. She is beautiful. Words will never bring her down. Nor will her MS. I hate it. Its here. I can’t get rid of it. But the sun shines on her. It beams on us both. The sun will always shine.

I have played this one scene through my mind continuously. It has us dancing in the shadows of one another. Yet the shadows become one, not two. They meld together, not like oil and water. The sun is behind us coming through the windows. It is a very large room we are in, old, stately. We are alone, just together with our smiles aiming at each other. The problem is, neither one of can dance. Dance Lessons.

I grew up never seeing my father perform, he must have been quite good at his craft, and he was known as The Little Shadow. He emulated his partner. Side by side they stepped, never out of rhythm, always in stride for stride. Needless to say, I did not inherit this marvelous form of expressing oneself. I can’t dance. Yet this scene won’t leave my mind. It constantly runs, never stops, it repeats itself over and again. I want to dance with my wife. I want to lead, have her flow across the floor, never out of step, shadows as one. It is painful, I am ashamed, and I can’t teach her. Dance Lessons.

This brings me down; it deeply saddens me and torments me to no end. I’m consumed with this. It has become a passion. Fred and Ginger, Kelly and O’Connor. Jeff and Jennifer. It wont beat me; I have a mission to whisk her all over that hardwood floor, the sun always shining on us. I have to teach her, I can’t go on without living out this dream of us cascading in stride, smiling, laughing, and being in love. No crutches, no chair, no scooter, no canes, just four legs mimicking one another’s movements and flow. Words won’t be spoken, perhaps just a few laughs, and the room echoes with just smiles as if they were mirror images of one another. This day, this sunny afternoon, no one has MS, there are no mentions of it, its gone, and it has left us just for this one special day.

I wonder to myself sometimes if this is all just a mere dream. I’m delirious, so consumed in all of this. Trying hard to fill the emptiness, the voids are painful. Can this be in my grasp? Can I truly teach her how to dance? I have a plan - a drawing in my head, a vision in my eyes. My father was not only a good dancer, he was an engineer. I won’t design any steel mills for the world; however, I did learn a thing or two from him. And with the mindless ingenuity I possess, I can do this. Dance Lessons. It is in my power for I am her Angel. If I truly have earned these elusive wings, I must put my plan into action.

If we are to assume I am an Angel, as she claims often that I am, then it is imperative that we shall have our afternoon. But, you can’t always get what you want and it is not having what you want, but wanting what you have. I have more than any human being should be allowed to have; yet I yearn for more. As I sit and think about it, it is not for me, it is for Jennifer. I want for her. I want her to fly. I believe she can fly. I believe she can. I have to see it, hold it, and make it tangible. It is just a belief; I have this quest to witness this. Thoughts don’t complete what I want for her, it has to be in the palm of my hand to realize it is true.

I will always stand by her; I wont let anyone hurt her. She is the light in front of me that lets me travel down the streets with no names. I guess what that means is that wherever I go, she is there with me, regardless of where it happens to be that I am. I can’t shake her image from my mind. She is in me forever. I love her and will always and forever stand by her. Standing is easy; it’s this damn dance that has me puzzled. Enter my father.

I was not there the day my father passed away. I was not there to tell him all the things I had to say. They say you can listen as well as you hear. Today, at this time in my life, I know I listened to him. His echo is in my tears. Ten years have now passed since he left for Heaven. I miss him terribly every damn day. His departure from this earth left a void, yet an impact in my life. It is his wisdom and intelligence that will get me to the dance floor. Dance Lessons, Duct Tape.

I wear motorcycle boots because I ride a Harley. Funny, they are engineering boots. Coincidence; no. Fate; yes.

I have devised an idea using my boots, Jennifer’s shoes and duct tape. I take my boots off, place her shoes over top of them, and duct tape the shit out of them. Slipping my boots back on, I stand, smile, take her into my arms, and let nature take its course. This is how I shall dance with my wife. No matter what we do, no matter what we say, the sun shall shine on us. We are beautiful, no matter what they say, and words wont bring us down, not today.
Maybe I didn't love youQuite as often as I could haveMaybe I didn't treat youQuite as good as I should haveIf I made you feel second best I'm sorry I was blind. I am no longer blind. My shame is over. You are always, and forever, on my mind. I will teach you, I will lead you.

Let’s dance.

Friend and Art Festivals = Summer Fun

One of my favorite things to do in the summer is hit as many art festivals as possible. June seems to be the perfect month for that.

It started a couple weeks ago in Little Italy. It was hot (90+ degrees – no exaggeration), windy as hell (my hair had seen better days), but also a very fun time. I was fortunate enough to find my red coral Buddha (which I passed up a couple years ago – but not this time) at Xen Gallery. Cool place. Another treasure, a very unique silver metal star, twisted at each point, with a jewel in the center, was purchased at Juma Gallery. This is probably my favorite place. Dinner at Valerio’s with a bottle of Pinot Grigio was excellent. Big thanks to my friends for that perfect night – we laughed a lot during dinner and we all needed that more than anything else.

This weekend was the annual art festival at Crocker Park. They blocked off the main thoroughfare so each side of the street was lined with tents for each artist. There were approximately130 artisans. Though rain threatened the day, not once did we need our umbrellas. Even more surprising, considering the forecast, temperatures were quite manageable and rather pleasant. The event began at 10:00 AM and we arrived at 9:30 AM - because we are smart and - we wanted "first dibs" - on anything and everything that caught our eye! We were able to walk the thoroughfare immediately. It wasn’t crowded at all – barely any patrons so early in the morning. (And this is just another reason why it's good to be a rule breaker in the land of rule makers!) By the time we left, both patronage and temperatures were heating up.

The artisans had many treasures to sell. Everything from jewelry, leather goods, mixed media, pottery and glass art to paintings, photographs, metal and whimsical pieces for home and garden. Though to many to mention by name, my favorite by far would be Glass Designs by David and Susan of Bay Village. I was at their kiosk for quite some time talking to the artist. He signed each piece I purchased. My little piece of art, “so the legend goes, helps channel positive energy (chi), good health and good fortune into the room.” We’ll see! I bought one for home and work - you can never have enough CHI!

I should have purchased the kaleidoscope too – it was over-the-edge cool. Their card says they specialize in flowers, kaleidoscopes and panels. The artist was also personable and had a few fun stories to share. No website listed so I’m thinking “ROAD TRIP!”

This weekend I’m taking a much-needed day off work to catch up with an amazing friend I made while working at the former gig. And I’ll be sharing lots of stories about the new gig – over wine! Soon after, we’ll be well on our way to do major damage at Standing Rock Gallery and Don Drumm’s Studio. I can’t wait.

Is it sickening to say I’ve already purchased some Christmas presents at these events?

______________________________________

Cool quote for today:

If you do things well, do them better. Be daring, be first, be daring, be just
- Anita Roddick