Dennis

Sitting up in bed last night and watching the coverage of the fires in California made me think of a dear friend from San Diego who had been a fireman there. 

We first met Dennis when my childhood friend married him and brought him home to meet everyone. He had been a fireman and was injured several times. From falling through at least one roof (two I think), he’d damaged his hips. He was a man in his 50’s when we met him, drawing disability for his injuries. He suffered a lot with hip pain. Both hips had been replaced, one twice.

He loved the small town where we lived then, the place where my friend’s family and mine had lived for generations.  But when he and my friend bought a huge old two-story house that Jim and I had once owned, I was surprised — and thrilled. 

For the next few years the friendship grew and a deep bond was formed. Dennis was like a dear brother to us, and at last (after a lifetime of only seeing my childhood friend in snatches of a few days or weeks at most) we had my friend only a few blocks away.  Then Jim went into the ministry, and we began to move around to the churches he served.

Although gone from Dennis and my friend, we knew we would all spend our retirement years together in that small town we all loved. Whenever we’d go to visit our daughters and their families, we would visit with Dennis and Christa, sometimes even staying at their house. Those visits were precious. We didn’t realize how precious until Dennis got sick.

The ultimate diagnosis was not good. We lost Dennis in 2004 at the age of 59.

I still cry thinking of him, thinking of this fine man who was taken from those who loved him at an age when he should have been planning the next 20 years of his retirement. He was a fine man indeed. He was a people person. Despite his disabilities, he worked hard to help his new neighbors and friends. He was always there in a disaster, pitching in with his knowledge of emergency medical aid and just plain general knowledge of what to do. When tornadoes hit nearby, he was among the first to go and offer help.

He was a large man, a kind man, a gentle man. And yet he was a rock. He was a product of California’s beach culture of the 60’s, a surfer, a big blond man who was handsome beyond belief. I will never forget him. Times like last night, when I was watching the fires that are destroying so much of the place that he called home for most of his 59 years, touched deep into my soul and brought back all this love and loss to me. Today I’ll call Christa, for I know in my heart that she is feeling these same things during this tragedy that is befalling those in California.

Please pray for those who are suffering. These fires are going to have so much more impact on ALL of us in this nation than any tragedy that has ever befallen us in the past. Even more than Katrina. Just think about it. And then say a prayer.

Later, y’all.

(P.S. I’ll never forget your stroganoff, either, Dennis.)

I’m Not Lisa

Two nights now I’ve had good solid sleep, thanks to my husband, who babysat the cats. I went to a guest room and shut the door. Thank you!!

Does anyone else get this dread feeling in the pit of their stomachs sometimes — a feeling that something bad is about to happen and there’s nothing you can do to stop it? That’s been me for a few days. It’s an uncertainty, a dread, a feeling of unease and secret fear.

I think maybe it stems from knowing that I can’t please everyone. I tried for a while, but now I am too tired to keep trying. I knew going in that I would disappoint some. No, I’m not “her” — I’m me. Funny how people expect you to be just like your predecessor.  I keep thinking of the song by Jessie Colter, I’m Not Lisa. Here are the lyrics:

I’m not Lisa, my name is Julie
Lisa left you years ago
My eyes are not blue
But mine won’t leave you
‘Til the sunlight has touched your face

She was your morning light
Her smile told of no night
Your love for her grew
With each rising sun

And then one winter day
His hand led hers away
She left you here drowning in your tears, here
Where you’ve stayed for years
Crying Lisa, Lisa

I’m not Lisa, my name is Julie
Lisa left you years ago
My eyes are not blue
But mine won’t leave you
‘Til the sunlight shines through your face

I’m not Lisa

Those are haunting lyrics. Clearly they’re meant for a lover. But they fit, as well, for my situation. In an odd way, I’ve been trying to be “Lisa” and it hasn’t worked. Now I have to let myself be “Julie” — just Me.

Too bad that we can’t read deeply into other people’s thoughts. Or maybe it’s good that we can’t. I guess most of us have thoughts without even realizing that they are so deep and private that we hide them. It isn’t a deliberate deception; it’s simply the way humans think and guard that part of themselves.

If this is what two good nights of sleep do for me, I’m in trouble! LOL

Take care, everyone. Have a good day.

Later, y’all!

What Kind of Blogger Are You?

New Parent’s Woe

I feel like a new parent. The new kitten, Max, had been sleeping in the big bathroom with food, water, and litter box, but now he’s been liberated to the rest of the house with Girlie, the older cat. It’s working out well, except at night, when both want to romp and play, and take great pleasure, it seems, in romping and playing on my prone body.

No sleep for the weary parent.

Two nights like this, and I’m worn out. Today will be a busy busy day, and I’ll be running on low.

My confidence and general joy in life is slipping, and I’m afraid if I let this pre-depressive state get a strong hold on me, I’ll be in for a long spell of depression and sadness. Determined not to let this happen, I’m trying to stay positive about everything I can, but sleep is a necessary thing to good health, both physical and mental.

The good part of this day is that it’s cool, the birds are singing, and autumn has arrived at last. I love autumn! The colors are my colors. The air is crisp and a bit nippy. All that summer air polution  is cleared away, and the sky is the bluest ever. Happy fall, everyone!

Time to get moving on the morning.

Later, y’all!

Long Time Gone

A long time gone. Nearly two months since I’ve written here. Nearly as long since I’ve written anything. I hate good intentions. It seems that most of my good intentions fail. Can you tell that I’m feeling down and unfulfilled? My own fault. What is it people say these days? My bad. Mea culpa. Whatever.

The past three weeks have been a bit lacking in peace and rest due to the addition to the family of a kitten. Max, or as we sometimes call him Mad Max or Bad Max, is about 3 months old and just an active kitten. He isn’t really bad, except that he likes to chew on things. Our older cat, Girlie, has accepted him better than we expected. They play together and get rough sometimes, but usually they are good playmates. I’m wondering how things will go when we decide to let Max stay out all night. Now we put him in the big bathroom at night with food, water, and litter. Otherwise he’s usually loose in the house along with Girlie. Time will tell. I think this will be a fun adventure – someday after I’ve gotten enough real rest.

I’m sad today. My get up and go has gone. I have so many things I want to do with my life (what’s left of it), but there’s just no time, and I’m too lazy to get anything done. Instead of choosing one thing and getting it done, I end up with getting nothing done. My energy level has dropped. I’m slightly anemic again, and my thyroid meds are being reset by my doctor, so perhaps those two things have a hand in this mood and feeling lately. I just want to weep today. I have so many things flitting up there in my brain, and yet I can’t focus on any one thing.

I’ve tried for two weeks to get critiques done for my two very patient critique partners. Both of them have busy lives, and say they expect a critique only when I can get to it. But I’m feeling much the failure as a critique partner. They both have completed mss, and I have only bits and pieces of old writings. NOTHING new. Nothing. I seem incapable of thinking a new novel thought, much less creating a story. My whole world seems to revolve around the cats and my health lately.

And yes, I do spend way too much time online and in chat rooms. I wish I could break my addiction to the chat rooms. But I love going there. I also spend way way too much time surfing the net. My mind flies from one thing to another, and each new thing brings with it questions and curiosity, so I’ll google something… and I’m off again! New things to learn about! Or perhaps it’s just new ways to waste my time. New ways to spend the time I have left on this plane.

I think having just the truck is getting me down, as well. For over a year now, we’ve only had the pickup truck. I sold my car, and now when I need to go somewhere, Jim is left without transportation, and vice versa. I really miss my outings. My LONE outings. And I used to take small trips alone. I would go do some genealogical research or just get away about once a year. Only three or four days, but just the driving wherever by myself would be regenerating to my spirit. My last trip away by myself was to Kentucky. I took small country highways that I’d never driven before and spent a wonderful three days just doing whatever or nothing at all. I pray that we will be financially able to purchase a second vehicle soon after the new year.

My hair is letting me down lately. I can laugh and explain it away by saying that I have my mother’s hair – thin and straight – but the fact is I just don’t want to take much time with trying to make it look presentable. I need a good haircut, but that isn’t the whole story. Perhaps it’s time to find a carefree style that I won’t have to do much with. Whatever happened to those old curly perms that you simply washed and shook out??? Any chance they might come back in style? LOL

There are still at least half a dozen boxes to go through and unpack since the move. I emptied several last Saturday. I can’t believe how many boxes of folders with my old writings in them. I’ve bought some of those open plastic file containers to house them all. But now where do I house the file containers? This house is so much larger than the house where we’ll retire in a few years. How will I ever manage to find space in that little cottage? I guess I will have to bite the bullet and throw out reams and reams of crap writing. That doesn’t sound as bad as it once did. Perhaps I’ll actually be able to part with all that crap.

Enough for now. I’ve written out my frustrations for the time being. Perhaps by clearing out this stuff from my pent-up insides, I  will be able to find a good mood for the evening. We’re going over to the Country Village with a couple from El Dorado, two preachers, man and wife who share a charge. At least I won’t have to feel guilty about not cooking.

Later, y’all!