Betting on Me

Even at a young age, I knew I was always going to win in life; no matter what the obstacle.  I had a seizure when I was two, had to be hospitalized and developed epilepsy at the dawning age of thirteen.

I use the word "dawning" because it dawned on me that I was going to be responsible for me.  I was lucky: it takes most humans all of their lives to realize that.  I had to be smarter, and also more compassionate to survive.  Compassion involves looking through the problem kinda like a doctor or a teacher does.  I chose to be a teacher and never looked back.  I treat looking back like I do regrets-such a waste of time.

This was always a good philosophy for me until I met others who were more selfish than me.  I was used.   I became angry and bitter.  I began to second guess myself.   Wow, what a time waster; I began to concentrate on the past.  Didn't  I realize that the past cannot change and the only thing I could do was move forward and hope for the best?

 I guess my husband bore the greatest part of my depression, anger, bitterness and yes-regret.  Poor guy-never knew what hit him.  I did.  Woe be to the individual who is closest to me when I lose my temper.  He never realized he couldn't fix things-he always tried.

And so that brings me to the present.  And Ive never viewed myself as a winner but I am.  I have a 100% track record for overcoming bad shit that happens.  Good for me-going to be a glorious life.

Under the Persimmon Tree

Life lessons shared

Beer and laughter

The happy flight of memories

Flickering like fireflies

Torches passed from Father to sons and daughters

In the gray world of twilight

Lengthening shadows

And the wind whispering

Where did the time go?

Answers

The answers only become clearer in the rear view mirror.
Maybe a little dust is kicked up
And the straight line is smudged
The path becomes more recognizable as we look back to find our way.
Tears,  pain, the foibles and failures of life do not deter, just impede our grasp
momentarily.
We are the past, present and future
And onward we march.

Sun In Our Eyes

As we march toward the sunset,
and ponder where we have been and where we are going,
sometimes the sun gets in our eyes.

So many shining stars have danced before us into the pages of history,
sawdust paths to glory.
One gets overwhelmed with the stampede.

Rascals, damsels, pioneers and all kind of folk,
dazzle and bounce inside our collective minds,
only to form one arrow shot into the psyche of America.

We are the Daughters!
The mothers, sisters, aunts and cousins that have kept our country strong
through time forever forward and backward.

We all contribute to the song of our ancestors.

Why Not Comfort Food

As I was sneezing, coughing and blowing my nose into another Saturday morning, my mind turned to breakfast.  As I thought of the usual scrambled eggs and salmon; I thought why not comfort food.  I am 63,  am certainly no waif like model or have any aspirations in that direction, have been sweating profusely  at the gym for 3 months and have lost a grand total of 4 pounds.  I just bought a size 18 dress for a formal dinner I will go to tonight and the only shake, rattle and rolling I will do pertains to my fat and not my money-maker or variations thereof.

Why not do what I want do and to hell with the rest?  Can I spend my life fearing the consequences?  Yes.

I can eat  and drink what I want to but then I am subject to gaining weight-which is ugly.  The health consequences are even worse.  Death is inevitable but if I can stave off diabetes, high blood pressure and a heart attack then I will certainly give it the old college try.  Hello gym, on a positive note, my personal trainer is very easy on my 63 year old eyes, but he was clueless as to who Antonin Scalia was-1 out of 2.  I'll take those odds

I can spend money until the world looks level and I will float on a temporary high-it only lasts until the bills come rolling in.  Shopping is comfortable-it is something I have done all of my life- and with considerable flair.  Unfortunately I am retired (and all that entails) and the bucks no longer ca-ching with regularity.

My husband of 42 years happily plays golf twice a week with  reckless abandon .  He played golf the day after his mother passed away.  Damn.  Also, he is pencil thin and works out every day and runs 4 miles most days.  I don't have that masochistic bent.

My children are a continual surprise-they are happy, healthy and quasi-well adjusted.  Kinda like me.
I love them dearly and they will miss me when I'm gone.

The Sun in My Eyes

I was driving into the sunset (omen) with a grave figurine in the back seat of my rented SUV.  I headed toward the cemetery where my  in laws and Dad are buried.  I held my tears in check and pulled into the shadowy street close to their graves.  I parked and gingerly stepped my way toward the headstone. The newly placed granite vases stood like silent sentinels guarding the fragile memories that flitted and flittered in the sinking sun.

I was walking to my car when I saw a small car snaking up the street.  Someone called my name and I saw her hazily through my misty eyes; The sweet woman who sold me the vases for my dads headstone.  She asked me how I was doing and I told her I was upset because I was alone and wandering among so many unfinished stories-life is just that way.  It can be such a mean street. 

She told me about loosing her dad and how she has never returned to the grave.  I guess life goes on and rumbles over everything in the way.