FAST AWAY THE OLD YEAR PASSES

In case you're interested, the Democrats have sent a united letter to Harry Reid to end the rules of the Senate regarding the Filibuster.  There is only one day every Congressional session that they can do this and every Democrat has signed on to it.  If Harry retains his balls, we can actually make incredible strides to fix the Senate.  I'm sceptically optimistic.

In the meantime, it's the last week of 2010.  Do one thing this week that matters...big or small.  One little thing.  Then call it a year.

SO IT IS CHRISTMAS

Tillie is sleeping beside me, the lights of the Christmas tree shine.
I have who I love to abide me...my husband, my son, they are mine...
The fears of tomorrow will wait now, I'll drink in the the silent dark night
I know in the darkness it's Christmas.  Somehow, it will all be alright.

Happy Christmas to all who may stumble upon this little poem tonight.  I hope it brings you what this season is meant to bring...comfort and joy.  It's the very early morning so I'll not say goodnight...Happy, happy Christmas Day.

p.s.  If someone you love is apart from you, this is a great time to say "Hello."  No, not right this minute, it's the middle of the night you dimwad, I mean during the Holidays.  Get in touch at a reasonable hour for Christ's sake.  And yours too...Happy Christmas to all and to all a Good night.  I'm going to bed now.  Ho dee Ho Ho and all that.  The dogs have more presents than we do. Just thought you'd like to know.  And Batman just got in the middle of the manger.  I don't care, I'm going to bed.  Soon.  Good night, Universe.

20 YEARS

Tomorrow is December 23, 2010.  20 years since Viola Matilda Lilian (Ole Tilly Lilly according to her) left this world for the other side.  The woman who invented laughter and created a legacy of glorious stories, nonsense, silliness, love, acceptance and laughter for everyone who ever crossed her path.  My Grandmother.  Gramma.

It seems forever since I sat with her although I've felt her presence innumerable times since her passing.  She visits me.  Not like the ghost of Christmas past but as a feeling.  I know when I'm being who she would want me to be...that person is myself.

When I'm talking to a plant and scolding it for being uncooperative, I suddenly feel that way I felt when she was standing beside me.  When I collapse in laughter and have to wipe my eyes again and again I hear her raucous cackle (a laugh we girls all inherited...completely unfeminine and awesome) and know she gave me that ability.

So many people can't do that, you know.  Completely lose it in laughter.  I remember one comedy class when every one of us got so caught up in laughing that we actually just stopped the class because we all just kept looking at one another and laughing at the other one laughing...just like in the living room of Gramma's house, with Dad and Mom and Uncle Bobby and Gramma and all of us telling stupid stories or laughing about anything that struck us at the moment.

I am thankful for so many gifts that have been given to me in my lifetime.  My parents were teachers and gave me my love for learning.  My brothers and sisters have given me endless gifts. I have friends of every race, color and creed from all over the country and even the world and they have given me gifts that I can't begin to list. I'm grateful that I was raised in a spiritual home because even though I'm no longer a practicing Catholic, I have a connection with my God and Jesus will always be a mentor. I like that Buddha guy too...I'd like to get a piece of that calm in my life ...perhaps a goal for next year.

All the gifts are wonderful and become essential at the times that I need them...but I have to say that if one thing has saved me throughout my life, in sickness and health and pain and good times and bad times and all the in between it's the rowdy, raucous, irreverent, bawdy, crazy, loud laughter that I inherited from my Grandmother...Viola Matilda Lilian...Ole Tilly Lilly...to say rest in peace would be a travesty.  Keep shaking the Heavens, Gramma!  We'll have one Heaven of a laughter reunion one day...and as the universe goes, it's only a moment away.  Oh, how I love you.

LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE

My son says people read blogs even when they don't comment.  I now tell him "liar, liar, pants on fire."  I have opened my heart again and again for months now.  My darling Sister-in-law Jen comments when she has time.  That's it. Nobody knows I'm alive, in the Cyber world.

But you know what?  I won't quit because I'm shouting to the universe and the internet never dies.  Who knows?  Someday, someone may find these postings and just one missive might make a difference.  In the meantime, I get to write and rant and tell the universe my version of the truth.

So, perhaps Jimmy is not a liar.  It's just that the people who might read my blog will be doing so when my ashes are in the Mississippi River off the coast of Lacrosse.  But if that happens, greetings.  I wasn't wrong, huh?  Good luck to you all. What a world these nutbags handed you.  I tried.  I really tried. Move to Canada.

FA LA LA LA LIFE GOES ON

Since we're getting close to Christmas, I thought I'd post another letter from a while back.  This was 2006 when I really did a lot of travelling for the company.  It's hard to believe that the years our life circumstances go "Slip Slidin' away" as Paul Simon would say.  But when we look at what we survived and celebrated, it also gives us an idea of what we are still capable of doing.  So here, a bit of nostalgia from 2006.

Greetings My Darlings!  What a year!!!  A new beginning in so many ways…life is never boring, that’s for sure!

There were so many comings and goings this year…Ron is working in Durango, so I’ve been back and forth, trying to adjust to a long distance marriage for the time being.  I do miss him, but he’s working for himself again, and near his kids, which makes him very happy.  He’s going to be a Grampa, as his daughter Maureen is due to bring “Elizabeth” into the world sometime in February. So, we hang in there and punt!       

              

Some of you may remember me speaking of Scooter, a young man Ron and I mentored while we were in Memphis.  So much potential gone in a heartbeat…shot dead for no reason except that he lived in a bad neighborhood…he flew away this past spring.  My dear friend, Betty Cook flew away this year too.  But I had the joy of heading down to Texas, meeting her kids, and adopting her beloved fat cat, Pinto.  He now lives with Louie, Roxy and Tillie in our little house here in Colorado.  He thinks I invented the cold weather and snow and I get plenty of dirty looks from him when he can’t be the mighty hunter in the back yard. 

Jimmy is back in Michigan, and getting a little rest after an arduous many months as the chief researcher for Democratic Senator Debbie Stabenow’s re-election campaign…she won resoundingly, and I couldn’t be more proud of my wonderful son.  My parents are doing pretty darn well, considering they’re both octogenarians now!  It’s hard to believe, especially when I see people so many years younger than they who don’t have anywhere near the energy and life that they have.  I come from great stock!

So, as always, I have some great stories.  I did a lot of traveling this year with my job.  I was in Honolulu, San Antonio, Dallas, Los Angeles, Tulsa and Orlando! So my first story is about Roahlun.  (Pronounced like Roland, without the d.)  I was on a return flight into Denver, and as soon as I sat beside him, this proud Grampa started telling me about how he was going to see his grandchildren in Sacramento.  He had a bag of gifts that I helped him situate in the overhead bin, among them a porcelain Barbie doll.  He confided in me that it was his last time to visit the kids.  He had cancer and was going into hospice.  We talked all trip, and as we were taxiing into the terminal, he looked at me, his eyes filled with tears, and I took his hand.  After a moment, being polite, he started to remove his hand.  I told him, “It’s okay, let’s just stay this way till the plane stops.”  We held hands into the terminal, both grateful that we had this tiny moment in time to share.  We said goodbye as they helped him into his wheelchair, his precious gifts securely in his lap, then he waved one last time as he was wheeled down the concourse.  Goodbye Roahlun.  Godspeed.

On my way to Orlando, mid-November, I had a lot of time to kill, as we were to be at the airport 2 hours before flight.  So I got some breakfast, and sat at the bar with a Bloody Mary, watching the hoards roll by.  Then a young man, 22 years to be exact, in a Marine Uniform sat down a few seats from me.  I asked him where he was going.  He told me he just got back from Iraq, and was headed home to Florida.  I asked him if I could give him a hug, and he said “sure”.  I held him and we both started to cry.  He was surprising his family who wasn’t expecting him until just before Christmas.  I told him, as a Mom, that first she would be so happy, and then she was going to smack him for not telling her.  He laughed, I bought him a beer, and we celebrated his safe homecoming.

Thanksgiving Day.  I’m about to head to the airport to get Ron, and I decide to get some muffins, cause I know he’ll have an empty stomach.  Ron gets motion sickness, so he never eats before he gets on a plane, no matter what time the flight.  So I notice that the Winchell’s Donuts right by our house is open.  Inside is a little, chubby man with a Middle Eastern accent.  I order my donuts, and then ask him if he will be able to go home pretty soon.  He says he has to sell all the donuts in the case first. Then he says, “Talk to God!”   I asked him how many donuts in the case, and he said about Eight dozen.  The streets were deserted…I knew he wouldn’t get to go home until well into the afternoon, if at all!  So, I got an inspiration.  I got the address for the Denver Rescue Mission.  He called the owner, and the owner promised to deliver them to the Rescue Mission if I bought them all.  So I did!  The little man was so happy…as I was leaving the store he threw his hands in the air and said “I’m going home!”  The Rescue Mission called about an hour and a half later, ecstatic about the unexpected treat!  But I truly think I had the best time of all…what fun it was to do something so spontaneous and joyous.

So, another year.  I designed these Christmas Cards for all of us.  Scooter and Betty and Roahlun, for my young Marine, the little man in the Donut Shop…for Ron, for Jimmy, for my parents, my brothers and sisters, and for all of you my dearest friends, both near and far…but mostly for the children who count on us to lead the way.  As God’s grown up children, it’s up to us.  Pray for, strive for, work for Peace.  May the coming year bring you countless joys.  Stay in touch.

IT GOES ALONG LIKE THIS FOR A WHILE

My old buddy Rocket used to say "It goes along like this for a while and then it gets worse."  I know he stole the line from someone but it doesn't matter.  It always sounded great coming from Rocket.

Just as I was going to post this blog the "Alleluia Chorus" from Handel's "Messiah" came on the Holiday music I was playing as I wrote.  It reminded me of a Christmas.  We actually laughed at this story at Mom and Dad's after Jim's funeral.  There was a Christmas when everyone was there and gathered, had all eaten breakfast and were ready for the "present fest."  Jim was still sleeping.  I have no recollection why since at that time he would have been on college break, but we had had enough of it.  So I went upstairs with the help of either Jane or Andy and took the humongous speakers that he had in his room and put them at the head of his bed.  Then I rifled through his records and, of course, found the "Messiah."

Knowing it would be the last track, we jacked the speakers up as loud as they would go. I dropped the needle softly and suddenly, at the volume that would rival full orchestral concert, the chorus began.  Jim literally levitated from his bed.

He sat, disheveled and ticked off as he shook the sleep away and said "Why the Hell did you do that???"

I responded, "I thought you could 'Handel' it."  As angry as he was, he laughed.

I had something completely different I was going to post and now I can't remember what it was.  I'm tired, it's been a long weekend and tomorrow starts another day.  But I remembered my brother with a smile and a laugh as opposed to anger.  That's wonderful.

Oh, and I am going to start playing at this awesome gay bar named the "Aqua Lounge" twice a month.  I think that's what I was going to write about.  I think that getting my life back and reconciling Jim are one and the same.  Good night then.

DON'T GIVE UP ON PEOPLE

I was really upset with my mother, though I didn't tell her so because when your Mom is pushing 85 you would like to have as loving and peaceful a relationship as possible.  Again and again, I see why holding your tongue and holding on is the right decision.  You can go to therapy after they pass. Our time here on this side is limited. I don't want to lose a minute.

This evening she sent me a Powerpoint that contained photographs of women - it was breathtaking and humbling and astounding.  Women who have endured so much.  I opened it when I sat down after cursing and swearing over the fact that I was too short to reach the area I wanted to hang a Christmas wreath and the fact that because I was too short two nails flew God knows where (I took off my shoes before I viewed the photos and said out loud to myself "well, I'll find them now that I'm not wearing my shoes.")  I was tired and sore and worn out. A grumpy old grouch, to say the least.

I finally said "Fuck it, I'm done."  I poured a glass of wine and checked my email and there it was.  It just looked different from the emails that Mom sends.  It just said "Women."  All she said in the body of the email was "Good reminders of women all over the world."  Again...so uncharacteristic of the emails or forwards she sends.

I don't think that she knew what she gave to me.  Sometimes we give what we conceive to be a tiny gift and to the recipient it is beyond words.  That's what happened.

I live in a really nifty home that Ron and I have worked so hard to make our own.  Nothing in this house would ever speak "Homeowner's Association" or "Model Home."  It's an old house...built for the military just like all the other houses in our area, only we have a lot more area because one of the owners before us decided to build an addition with brick that matched the original.  When Ron and I moved in we went about making it our own and did wonderful things like ceramic floors, rebuilding areas to be more efficient...really put effort into making a house into a home.

The reason I'm bringing this up is the photos.  I saw photographs of beautiful and loving and old and young and heartbroken and homeless and every circumstance that could exist in the life of a woman.  It made my frustration at being short and tired so absolutely ridiculous.  There is a photograph of a woman with a joyful smile carrying what would amount to two laundry baskets on her head and another under her arm with a child beside her.

There are elderly women carrying loads of firewood, sewing, working the fields.  There are women teaching and weeping and living lives of such deprivation with smiles still working the corners of their mouths and the lights of their eyes.

Shame on me and shame on all of us who think our life is so bad.  Even for one minute.  We have the strength of lionesses and to let anything break us when we have such plenty here is nonsense.  We just have to stop being afraid.

I, for one, will just have to buy a little higher step ladder.  And I have the money to do so.  To put up decorations.  I doubt that most of these incredible women have the luxury to consider that to be their pressing issue.

To the women of the world:  You give life, you are life and you are more powerful than you can imagine.  As I tell you to believe in yourselves, I'm telling myself to believe in me so that I can be a part of the proud legacy that is woman.

Thanks, Mom.  What an unintentionally beautiful gift.  It's amazing how an evening can turn.  Life is something.  I'm not sure what.  I guess it is what it is and I will always welcome the surprises.

NEWS FLASH: NO WAR ON CHRISTMAS

My Mother sent me an email with a Ben Stein Essay.  Ben Stein is a wealthy conservative who's two biggest claims to fame are his appearance in "Ferris Beuler's Day Off" as the teacher who keeps repeating : "Beuler...Beuler...Beuler..." and his game show "Win Ben Stein's Money" hosted by Jimmy Kimmel (who has, so happily gone on to better venues.)


Ben Stein is no benevolent.  He, like so many other conservatives, continues to try to tell very nice people who want their Jesus in the Manger Christmas, that someone out there is totally out to get them.  He even couches his theories in rhetoric that says "I'm a Jew and I'm not offended when I don't see a Menorrah placed beside a Nativity Scene."  Whoopee for you, Ben.  Neither am I.  Nor am I offended by any other celebrations of the season by people of every faith and ideology.  So I'm going to post for you the gist of what I wrote to my Mom and, to her credit, she is always willing to read another opinion.  I'll tell you her response at the end because I laughed.  She can't fight her Catholiciness.  So, here's my commentary on the phony war on Christianity:


Dear Mother - I know that you sent this with the very best of intentions.  I got a similar type of missive from Toni.  The problem is that it's a fake controversy.  I'd really like this whole "assault on Christians" nonsense to disappear."  So here's a little something to think about from me. 

Thanks for sharing the wisdom of Mr. Moneybags, Ben Stein.  He's quite articulate. There's an inherent problem with all of this.  NOBODY discrinimates against Christians in America.  In fact, the majority of the bullying and railing against other faiths and other belief systems generally emanates from fundamentalist Christian organizations/faiths.  This stuff always ticks me off because it is couched in this benevolent language that sounds so reasonable and kind. 

Now, referring to some of the issues highlighted by Mr. Stein:   "Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem.  We said an expert should know what he's talking about..  And we said okay." 

The truth is that spanking IS bad.  It teaches kids to hit one another. 

"In light of recent events... terrorists attack, school shootings, etc..  I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK.  Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school.  The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself.  And we said OK."

Reading the bible in public school IS bad (regardless of whether or not it offends Ben Stein who is extraordinarily wealthy and probably went to an expensive, exclusive Hebrew school) because there are children there who are Muslim, Jewish, possibly Buddhist, Baha'i, agnostic...

Nothing wrong with teaching morality and having an intelligent discussion on issues of right and wrong - and as far as prayer goes, if you want to give everyone a few moments in the morning to reflect upon their personal faith that's great.  Just don't demand that it be YOUR faith.


Nobody picks on Christians and nobody says you can't celebrate Christmas, even though Jesus was born in July and this holiday actually came from the Pagan ritual of the Solstice.  It just coincides nicely with that time when the days, once again, begin getting longer and the period of time when the economy needs a final boost before the year-end numbers come in.

Nobody is less cynical about Christmas, the Christ Child, Wonderful Christmas Lights, Manger Scenes, Menorahs and even the "holiday trappings" than I am.  It is a wonderful thing, as the year draws to a close, to remember friends and family, those with us and those who have passed on.  To spend time thinking of a gift that would light up the face of a loved one, or make them laugh or just remind them that they are loved is tremendous.  I love Christmas/Holiday music.  Now there's an area where the Jews could work on things a little more.  That Dreidle song kinda sucks. 

I'd like to actually give credit to Mr. Stein, though he didnt' intend for his words to so closely quoted.  Here is one of his final comments on our moral decline."Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out.  I think it has a great deal to do with 'WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.' "

Yes, Mr. Stein, we reap what we sow.  And as to you and your ilk, the poor, the disenfranchised, even the middle class is reaping what you and your wealthy pals in the safe, upper 1% of the wealthy bestow upon us.  Meager existances, crappy jobs and little hope for the future.  As you write your Christmas Bla-de-Bla, let me tell you that we, like the Whos down in Whoeville will still celebrate Christmas.  Oh, there might be less lights and a lot less under the tree. 

There might be a chicken or even maybe a stew and a Cherry pie as a treat instead of the usual Christmas feast.  But there WILL be a Christmas because you and your friends don't get it and can't figure it out, much less stop it.  


Go open your garage to your new fancy-ass car with the bow.  It won't hold a candle to the WII game that Mom and Dad saved up for so that the entire family could share a gift.  Or the Christmas dinner to which countless numbers of us contributed so the folks down at the Denver Rescue Mission could feel safe and warm and human and wanted and cared for.  


You, Ben Stein, and Bill O'Reilly, and Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh and the rest of your ilk will never know this feeling.

Well, there is my missive on the subject of Christ in Christmas.  Christ is the first half of the word.  Just don't try to squeeze Christ into Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or Solstice.  He doesn't, nor would he want to, fit there.  He's is as he always was.  Happy to be among us.  

Oh...Mom's response was:  "I AGREE WITH YOU ABOUT THE SPANKING."  Gotta love her.

A Flash from the Past

Here's my Christmas letter from 2005.  My, how life changes.  I guess that's why I'm doing this. I'm hoping I'll get some earlier ones, because I've been doing this since 1981...quite a story if I can gather them up.

Here's the 2005 Christmas Missive:

So here we are, my friends…another year disappeared and, in many ways, that’s not a bad thing.  It has been a year of trials, to be sure.  In January I was bitten by a brown recluse spider, near my eye on the side of my nose.  Talk about “while you were sleeping”! This led to a myriad of cascading problems including egg sized edemas on my forehead and face, holes being eaten into the side of my nose on the bite site, infections and hospital visits.  6 weeks of Prednisone had me hallucinating and packing on weight like a sumo wrestler.  I was unemployed for three months as I went from doctor to doctor, turning into a walking pharmacy, sedentary, sometimes bedridden, and forlorn.  The three remaining scars on my nose remind me on a daily basis that life can turn on a dime…or as swiftly as a spider in the night.

My beloved Jessica was diagnosed with aggressive cancer in March.  They predicted 2 months, and we opted for lots of love, painkillers, and anything she wanted, from ice cream to steak and everything in between.  We took walks in the park as a family until close to the end, then Ron took Tillie and Jessie and I slowly brought up the rear, at her pace.  She died on May 30^th, with all of us beside her, as she lay in her favorite place on the couch. 

I thought I’d take a good long time before bringing another dog into the family.  After all, Jessie had been my best friend for 11 years.  But Tillie and Louie mourned so dreadfully that I knew something had to be done.  I went to Petfinder and read a heartbreaking story about a little Pom.  She’d been thrown from a car on the freeway and some people following behind saw it, and picked her up.  They took her to animal control, and since she was hurt, they were going to kill her.  But a wonderful woman with a small animal rescue had taken her in. I believe that Jessie’s spirit guided me to her, because she and Tillie and Louie bonded immediately, and they became a family so quickly that it was amazing.  She’s just had surgery on her hip and knee and the doctors believe that she’ll regain full use of the leg.  So with Jessica’s spirit still in the house, we have a little family of five again.

I was lucky enough to see Jimmy and Danielle this summer, in DC…what a great trip.  A bonus was catching up with my incredible friend, Lee, and I stayed at his home in DC throughout the visit.  Jimmy and Danielle are wonderful, pursuing their interests and leading VERY full and busy lives.  Then it was on to Wisconsin, to see my family, where we caught up and had a lot of laughter and love.  Dad is 82, Mom will be 80 this February, and they are still vibrant, active and I thank God every day for their presence in my life.

So here I am in Denver, thanking God for Ron, who helps me get around and has been eternally patient and kind through all this awful stuff. And I do mean helping me get around.  Chronic pain (I believe brought on by that stinking spider) has caused my hips to enflame, and Docs aren’t coming up with much in the way of help so far.  I keep hoping.  It’s awful to look at the prospect of being sedentary at the age of 53.  If ANY of you know anything about chronic hip bursitis (we’ve tried all the conventional stuff, short of surgery,) email me or call me.  I’m desperate for something that works.  No physical therapy, because my insurance only covers 20 sessions and I’ve used them up. 

So what do I tell you this year?  What do I tell myself?  Do you remember the line “Greed is Good,” from the movie “Wallstreet”?  Well, I have to say that I agree.  Not the greed of the current administration, the wealthy pigs at the trough that only want more.  I mean greed for the important things.  Be greedy for your health…if you can get around, then GET AROUND.  You have no idea the frustration of not being able to take a nice long walk.  Be greedy for your friends…my friends, many of you, sat through midnight phone calls brought about by Prednisone panic attacks…without you, I would truly be poor.  Be greedy for time…time to think, time to play, time to pray.  Be greedy for the very air you breathe, and the blue sky.  Be greedy for laughter, and nonsense, and everything this life has to offer.  It can all be taken away so swiftly.  Develop your greed for honesty and integrity, and suck up faith and hope like the truly fine wines they are.

And since we celebrate the birth of Jesus, take his words to heart.  Not just that beautiful, dark skinned, dark haired baby who slept in that Middle Eastern barn so many years ago. Listen to His words.  Follow his teachings, be greedy for knowledge and discernment and truly follow Him, and you will not only have a happy life, but you will be saving the world for everyone.  I’ve included just a few of the many instructions given to us by the one we claim as Savior.  Think on these things, as will I.

And always remember that I love you.  Pray for me, I really, really need it.  And I will do the same for you.

Happy, Happy Christmas!  Let’s hope for a joyous new beginning in the coming year!

Love,

Patti, Ron, Tillie, Roxy and Louie the Great

***By the way, if anybody knows anything more about bursitis, I'm still open to ideas.  

More to come.

STAR OF WONDER

I wrote an entire posting and then Carson barked frantically and I tossed my laptop aside and all was lost.  I'm so glad you're out there.  Ron wound up in lousy, bad weather while he was doing what I thought was fixing his toolbox to his truck.  I was busy packing up a care package for his next road adventure. I then saw him grinning and connecting a plug to the power box above our mailbox and I immediately knew what he was doing.  He hooked up my star.  The one he built for me so many years ago.  The strings aren't there yet, Jimmy will connect them this week, but the star is shining bright.  We are the star house...I hope our star sends hope to not only those who see it, but to all of you.

I will be posting some old Christmas letters.  I don't have a lot of old ones so I'm going to be sending out missives to everyone.  I started my Christmas stories in 1981.  How great if I could find them all...quite a story they would tell.

In the meantime, don't let the holidays get in the way of your celebration of life.  We have one another.  That's quite the gift.

To the universe...make a difference in a tiny way this season and, while you're at it, every day. Why not?  Tiny steps.  One by one. Change the world.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Well, the Holidays are upon us.  Ron lied and told me that he was cut loose and on his way “to the house.”  He sounded weird.  Ron is a terrible liar.  The reason he sounded weird is that despite the snowstorms he was headed to Denver.  I talked to him again when he was 20 minutes out.  He’s now sound asleep after putting in a day that started at 5 am and ended with him in our loving arms. 

So here I am, awake at this hour, thinking of all that we have to celebrate. So here it is:  

MY LIST OF GRATITUDE

My parents.  I’m so lucky to be pushing 60 and to not only have them both still alive but vibrantly in my life.  My Mom called me late last night to tell me who won “Dancing with the Stars” because she knew I was boycotting until I knew for sure that the Bimbo didn’t win.  How funny is that to have a late night call from your Octogenarian Mom late at night about “Dancing with the Stars?”  Then, this afternoon, Dad calls and starts telling me stupid golf jokes...I don’t even understand golf but his cackling was enough to make me laugh my ass off.

My siblings.  Jane who keeps me sane.  Bunny who is always funny.  Andy who is dandy.  And, after all these years, Matt the brat.  I am hoping and praying that his status will change since there’s now one missing. 

With those siblings come some wonderful gifts...thank you, God, for Jen, for Fred, for Cindy and the nieces and nephews who come with that beautiful gift wrapped package.

I am grateful that we will no longer dread what might happen during the holidays.  I am grateful that my brother, Jim, is safe and soft in a place that has taken all his anger and petulance away.  He is home.  He’s no angel. The angels are his loving caretakers.  I really believe that he is “sleeping in Heavenly peace” because he has a while to rest before trying this whole thing again.  I know that I’ll have another go-around in another incarnation and I’m ready for things to click and tick the next time.  Never give up on a soul.

I’m grateful for my wonderful friends who continue to care and support me, even though most of them live far away.  Their response with gifts of love to help Mom and Dad through the crisis with Jim just underscores what I always say...I have incredible, wonderful friends.  I love them and miss them always.

I am grateful that I survived a really nasty surgery.  I am ready for a year without injury, illness or surgery.  I respect all my doctors but I would very much like to miss them.

I am grateful that Jimmy loves his life in Denver and is building a new life in this wonderful place. I have so much fun with him...I hope I’m as crazy and fun for him as Gramma was for Dad.  I want him to be able to tell as many funny stories about me as Dad does about Gramma.  She was and always will be my mentor.

Last but not least, my adorable and wonderful furry kids:  Tillie Marie, Roxy Jane, Carson John, Batman and Addie.  Endless joy on a daily basis.  So I go back to my first gratitude.  It was my parents who instilled this love of animals and, thus, gave me the life-long gift of furry, fuzzy and feathered companions who will grace my life until the day I die.

Thank you God.  Thank you family.  Thank you, Friends.  Happy Thanksgiving.

I'M BAAAAAAAACK

Well, this has been quite the Autumn. Jim's passing has led to some of my wonderful friends from the Mississippi and Delta Queen sending Mom and Dad donations not only to the Fox Valley Humane Society but also to them to help defer the costs of Jim's funeral.  One of my friends in Florida hooked us up with a place to sell every Corvair part.  I have all these incredible friends who I never get to see...scattered all over the country.  But, tried and true, they come through.

My gardens are yelling at me and I was going to clip everything down and mulch except that it got ridiculously cold and windy so I couldn't do a damned thing.  All which made me ticked off that I missed my perfect garden mulching and planting weekend because I was in Dallas at my company's annual convention.  Yup, standing behind a booth proffering our services and receiving the germ that gave me bronchial pneumonia while I could have been planting flowers that bloom in the spring.  So, now, I still have to figure out how I'm going to prepare my gardens for winter.

Ahhhhh...it feels so good to just complain.  This is my place.  I really hate to be a pain and I can tell the universe and sometimes Jen concurs.  This will now be my running joke because I have one reader.  However, I will now, hopefully propel myself into a wider readership.  Oh, yes.  More important than my brother's death. More important than the fact that Korea has enriched nuclear (Yup...it's pronounced "new-clee-er and not new-cew-ler) abilities...More important than the fact that the Republicans are trying to stop the signing of the START treaty even with this knowledge...

Yes, I'm going to say something that will propel me to stardom on the internet.

BRISTOL PALIN CAN'T FUCKING DANCE.  SHE IS A BIMBO THAT HAS CAUSED THE ABC SERVER TO "ALLEGEDLY" CRASH AND YET, HER VOTES GET THROUGH.  KINDA LIKE 2000 ALL OVER AGAIN, EXCEPT THIS TIME, YOU HAVE TO WATCH HER EVERY WEEK.

In the small world, if the Bimbo wins after they voted off Brandi who was incredible, I will simply stop watching the show.  In the big world, if the Bimbo wins, beware elections.  Just sayin...

TO THE UNIVERSE

Tonight I finally cried...cried and wailed into the arms of my husband who was able to come home for a few days.  He got more than he bargained for.  We both agreed it was all good - and he agreed that nobody will ever know how much I loved my brother.  My son Jimmy says that people read this blog...that the fact that there are not followers doesn't mean that there aren't readers.  I now doubt that because if nobody had a comment to my brother's passing, I doubt that anyone other than my sweet sister-in-law is reading this...and Jen probably wonders why I haven't sent her another message from the universe of Patti Lee.  But I also know that she understands, since she is living the same experience with my brother, Andy.  We are all trying to deal with Jim going home.

I want my family to hold on to somebody.  Jiminy Cricket.  For now, let the song be "When you Wish Upon a Star."  I have something else in the future for you all.  It will unfold.  It's nice to be beholding to nobody but the universe.  It gives not a shit what I say or do.  So I make a promise to all of you, whether you read this or not.  a message of joy will be coming to you soon.  It will make you feel better.  And, Jen, I know you're reading this and I love you.

I AM NOT ALONE

My son, Jimmy tells me that although I do not see followers, people do read my blog.  I doubt that, since I've raised some rather provocative subjects and there hasn't ever been any flurry of response.  However, writing this missive out to the universe has helped me.  I was told that I should write a journal when I had my shoulder accident...that this journal would help me work through my journey as I worked to get better.

Boy Howdy Shit, was that the worst advise I ever received.  All that journal did was focus every single day on the fact that I was in absolute pain and all alone!

They should have told me to do this!  What Jimmy kept telling me to do.  Write a blog.  Write about all the other things in your life besides the fact that you are always in pain!  Write about how Karl Rove is an Asswipe. Write about how the sun hits the window at the perfect time in the morning to make rainbows on the floor of your sunroom.  Write about how Tillie just found a new toy to gut.  Write about how people should treat one another. WRITE ABOUT YOUR LIFE REGARDLESS OF WHOEVER READS IT!

My son told me to start a blog.  I started a blog. Granted: they don't quote me on Huffington Post and nobody credits me with "Old Broad Wisdom says..."

Still, I have somewhere to go. It's 11:30 at night and rather than watching television or playing a video game or taking something to help me sleep, I'm writing.  I'm writing something.  So if someday, someone out in the universe is reading this and finds comfort, laughter, or friendship, even if I never know about it, how great is that??

I have always known that my place in the world is to make a difference for others.  I now believe that God made me a goofy, screwy, sexy, silly, fat, cute, talented, nutbag of a human being in order for me to be available to every single person...how could anyone be intimidated by someone with so very many flaws??? I am meant to find a way to care for all of you.  So, I will continue upon the road before me.

I will write sad, silly, funny, boozy, angry, happy, political, crazy, serious, and ALWAYS honest missives out to the universe.  I will write them for myself and I will write them for you, the wandering soul who might just click on some internet search engine that leads you to my story just when you need it.  For all of you and for me, here I am.  The old broad.  I am beginning to like myself.  That, alone, is a major accomplishment.

AND SO IT GOES

My brother Jim died.  The EMT's found him in his bed.  We're not certain how long he'd been gone when they found him.  They took him away and sent his little cat to the shelter.  I'm sure she wondered why he didn't wake up to feed her.

It's difficult to write about someone who so deeply alienated himself from his family.  He didn't have many friends.  He didn't make it easy.  Jim was an angry, tortured soul and there aren't many who knew him who didn't, at one time or another, feel the wrath of his demons.

So how do I reconcile this?  The ache I feel inside has lived there for so long because in so many ways, my brother died many years ago.  I just wanted so much more for him than he would allow himself to have.  I wished him so much more love than he was capable of receiving.

I will tell you, though, that there wasn't a cuter little kid on the face of the earth. When we were young, my little brother Jim was dubbed "Jiminy" and when asked his middle name, he would respond "Cricket."  He and I had a special bond and shared a voracious appetite for memorization...we'd perform skits and commercials, me at the table and Jiminy in his "baby tenda" (AKA highchair) believe it or not.  He was precocious and funny and brilliant and mine.

He played the tuba.  He always said he picked it because it was the most misunderstood instrument in the orchestra.  He self identified and majored in music with the tuba and brass instruments as his discipline.  His middle name was Paul and I called him J.P.  Years ago I found a T-shirt that advertised "JP's Tuba Lube."  I gave it to him for Christmas and he loved it.  I saw him wear it often.

So much went wrong for so long.  There's no way to put it into words.  Frankly, it doesn't matter any more.  In the end, he was here and now he's gone.  A moment's sunlight fading on the grass.

We used to go sledding together - his little legs were too tired at the end of a snowy Wisconsin afternoon to walk home.  So on the sled he would sit and I'd pull him, watching the sun sparkle on the snow as it crunched and squeaked beneath my boots.  Bright, white, light.  So, God, I'm handing the sled rope to you now.  The white light is already there.  Pull my brother the rest of the way home.  My heart will follow.

Rest in peace, Jiminy Cricket.  I love you.

TV WOMEN AND REALITY

Okay.  I hate chocolate.  I hate all sweets.  I also try to exercise as much as possible and have since I could remember.  All of my life I had my mother telling me "get on the bike" and I did...I biked to my art classes every day every summer...at least 6 miles.  I've walked and I've worked out and I've exercised and I am FREAKING FAT!!!

I see all these shows on television where these absolutely pristine and perfect women eat chocolate and cake and look like they could do a catwalk in a bikini.  I never eat any of that. I never have.

I look like a beached whale.  My gut would cover three bikinis and I never display my arms in public.

I am waiting for network TV to show someone as wonderful as me (other than Dr. Bailey on Grey's Anatomy who isn't even close to my fat ratio) as a hero.

I'm tired of being embarrassed every time I walk out of the house.  I'm tired of cutting off my food intake at 2 pm and still seeing no evidence of my efforts on the scale.  I'm tired of swimming and walking the dogs to the best of my ability with my debilitating bursitis, each step hurting beyond description, but still doing this hoping for maybe some difference...but, no.  And it has been "no" all my life.

I started obsessing as a teenager, and I have been on regimen after regimen.  I could show you photos of me that are drop dead gorgeous.  But they are crap because they are programs meant to keep you on the program. The only success I have seen are with these bogus programs...I have done them all.  Nutri System, E-Diets, and all those local protein diets that have you worried about even taking a host at communion.  REALLY?

I don't know the answer but I will tell you that I only wish I had one friend who would commit to taking a walk with me three days a week.  You know what?  Nobody responds.  Now, if I send out an email for people who would like to join me for martini's I have a crowd.  I don't need help with martini's. I can make one myself if I need it.

I don't know the answer. I don't need help to have a drink.  I need a friend to help me stay alive. I am so freaking sick of being fat.  I'm also sick of being alone.  As motivated as I am, I just can't be a Lance Armstrong because I have to sit at a freaking computer for 10 hours a day.  Help.

QUARTERBACKS, WOMEN AND SPORTS

I would like to preface this posting with the disclosure that I am of the feminist generation, as well as a rape and domestic abuse survivor.  I was stalked by my abuser and understand what it is to be dehumanized and abused by a man.

Now to the Brett Favre situation.  Bullshit.  I am sick of women who enter the testosterone laden locker rooms of professional athletes, scantily  or suggestively clad while claiming that they only want equal footing with men.  Oh please give me a big fucking break. You are going into that locker room with one agenda and it has to do with you. You no more want to be a masseuse or a reporter or a documentary film maker than I could fit my fat ass into a size 3 pair of jeans. You want attention and you don't care how you get it.

What if the tables were turned?  What if a REEAAALY HOT GUY who had a journalism degree and a microphone decided that he wanted to go interview a women's basketball team in their locker room while they were running around naked.  OMG...that's so totally inappropriate. Guess what, hotty massage therapist...SO ARE YOU.

Furthermore, SHAME ON YOU, New York Jets who was one of my favorite football teams cause I loved Joe Namath. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING????  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???  Out of all the massage therapists for your team that you could hire, you hire scantily clad hotty girls?

Please understand, if this is truly Brett Favre on the tapes and the photos, he really disappoints me.  I'll bet he wishes more than I do that he'd "curbed his enthusiasm" (so to speak)  But just when and under what conditions did these massages take place?  Male athletes are pigs for the most part and we, as Americans, like it that way.  We groom them to be iron men and that includes that testosterone thing.  I'm not excusing it but why hire a women into that situation when there are so many other options?

My last statement on this whole thing is that if this woman was so terribly harmed, why has it taken her until now to come forward?  I don't think Brette has had so much free time that he stalked, intimidated or scared her into silence.

For those of you who are doing your bits about "this is what he'll be remembered for" please give me a break. His 37 yard over the shoulder touchdown pass to Moss was his 500th career touchdown pass.  He finished the game with 502 career touchdowns.  Gee, and that was just last night.

In the end, it's all about some bimbo's 15 minutes of fame. I would hope that if I ever get my 15 it will be for something that matters. Your 15 minutes, Bimbo, amounts to the fact that I don't even know your name. And I'm saying that as a feminist, rape and domestic abuse survivor.  We know the difference because we have actually been harmed.

WHY I'M A LIBERAL

I realize that this is the second post of the evening. I'm having some trouble sleeping since I've had to make up for the work I missed and deal with, once again, saying goodbye to my family.  Which is what also brings me to this posting. I CAN'T SLEEP!!!  I'm also afraid of the precipice that the election of Rand Paul, Ken Buck Sharon Angle and Witchy Woman in Delaware would lead us to stand upon.

I just can't understand the Ayn Rand crap that leads to the social Darwinism advocated by people who want us to teach the fantasy land that is "intelligent design."  However, these same people want us to treat our entire society to their version of survival of the fittest...if you're not born into enough resources to give you a fair shake in the America that they envision, you must just relegate yourself to working a serf life as a convenience store clerk or a 72 year old McDonald's employee asking "Do you want fries with that?"

I am appalled by the new Walmart Ads where they hand pick a few token people who advanced in the company.  What a bunch of crap.  A race to the bottom company that abuses their employees in ways that defy social conscience pimping out a minority employee for a commercial that says "I LOVE working here." Bullshit.

I am appalled by the money from outside our state and that is being lambasted from Karl Rove and friends into every state.  The Supreme Court led by John Roberts has opened the floodgates to the death of the common man representing his district.  It is now a money game to the point of complete bastardization of our entire repubic.

So, what can I do?  Stuff voter guides and give people rides.  Vote and forward every email to everyone I know to get out the vote.  After that, nothing.

But, in the end, I just don't get it.  A guy who would see his neighbor in trouble and rush to his rescue would not extend that philosophy of his responsibility to society.  A man in Tennessee watched his house go up in flames because he neglected to pay the $75 fee to "pay to spray"  fee. The county had privatized the fire department.  He and his neighbors tried to pay on the spot and the fire fighters cried as they told him that they weren't allowed to accept the payment, nor could they help him.  He lost two cats and two dogs in the fire and has nothing but rubble to show for his life.

What have we become?   By the way, I don't give a crap that I was required to read "Atlas Shrugged" in High School.  I'll never understand why it was considered literature or relevant. It is crap. It is garbage.  It defies everything that makes us human.  Compassion, love, and social justice.  Ayn Rand had better like warm climates because her philosophies are relegated to the hottest flames of Hell.  I'll bet she never struggled or  missed a meal. Had she EVER suffered hardship her let them rot ideas would have never formed or been put to print - at least by her.

With that, I'll sign off.  For Christ's sake vote and vote for the ones who will inch us closer to being a better, caring and loving society. We could do that.  Look to our Northern neighbors.  They got it right.  Perhaps it's time to emulate.

WONDERFUL WEEKEND

Well, I got to go back to Wisconsin to celebrate my Dad's 87th birthday and be with my family.  I know, lots of people think that's the last thing they'd like to do but I was in Heaven.

I watched "Cheyenne" with my Dad Thursday and Friday, plus baseball and football.  Mom and I went card shopping and I reminded her that I love taking care of them.

We had dinner at a great place in Combined Locks..."The Lox Club" which has been there since I can't remember.  Oh, God, the best bad for your heart but good for your tummy food in the world.  Got to share the time with my brother Andy and my niece Taylor.

I got to meet "Wally", the newest member of our pet family.  I must have that magic "Doggy Appeal" because we hit it off immediately.  He is the most ADORABLE puppy!  He came over for Dad's birthday party on Sunday, his official birthday, and met "Honey", Mom and Dad's old Australian.  She wagged her tail and had a blast with the little guy and it was sweet and cute.

My sister, Bunny, is having a bit of a hard time these days.  All of our family have lived through this and our wonderful "big guy" cat "Nosy" is in kidney failure.  She knows we will all be with her.  We also know that they are wise and he will tell her when he is ready to go.

Jane came for Dad's birthday and we all contributed to the food - I got Deli trays and contributed some of my home-made salsa and chutney.  Jane made awesome ribs and Andy did burgers in his slow cooker.  Everyone ate their fill and the weather was so cooperative that it was beyond perfect.  I am still feeling the warmth of the back yard and the presence of the people I love.

I didn't have nearly enough time with my sister-in-law, Jen.  But we had enough time together to know that we really like one another which is much more important than loving one another. You can love some people that drive you crazy but when you like someone you can look past a gazillion things because they are irrelevant.  I am happy to say that I not only love her but I like her a lot.  I think that I get her and she gets me.  And Taylor and I spent a night at my motel followed by swimming in the morning and a special "girly" breakfast before preparing for the party.

All in all, it was completely ordinary.  Which is just what I needed.  The glorious, joyful and ordinary moments that live within your heart forever.  The moments with the ones you love.  I feel every one of them in this room tonight and I will be able to sleep in the warmth of their love.

JUST SAD

I am so safe in writing this blog entry.  That's because nobody reads it.  So I can write this and I won't get reported as to being an almost senior citizen in need of monitoring or psychiatric help or just fucking nuts.

I'm just tired and sad.  I get approximately 100 emails per day, mostly people who need something from me.  I get unanswered phone calls from every charity that found out that I gave to another charity and I don't have the money to give to them.

I work so many hours at my job that I can't even spend any time at my heart's desire which is music and art.

Even my dogs suffer because I can't walk them every day. Sometimes my hips just hurt too much.

I have never gone on a vacation. Seriously, and I'll explain all that in a minute.  As to the present, even if I got the opportunity for a "vacation", I would first have to consider where the Hell we'd get the thousand plus dollars to do it...then I'd have to wonder if Ron could get the time off...then I have no idea if I could even manage to enjoy it at this point.  I'd probably worry about whether or not my babies were being cared for and if I would come home to (as I have before) all my plants dead and a yard that looked like it had been nuked.

I've had to take care of everything and everyone for so long, I don't know how to not do it.  I twisted my ankle tonight bringing Carson home from the vet because he bolted out of the car and I didn't want him to run in the street.  I took a bad step onto a stone and, thankfully recovered myself before I fell. That would be way beyond what I can handle. So now I have a swollen ankle, just in time for my trip to see Dad and Mom.

I'm tired.  I'm just tired of being the go-to person for everything.  I can't imagine what it's like for my friends who go on cruises and trips and don't think of anything else but having a nice time.  I've never done that in all of my life.  Thank God nobody reads this.  I don't want sympathy and so this way I get to feel tired and burned out and sad and wiped and nobody has to tell me that a lot of people all over the world have it a lot worse than I do.  I'm well aware. I'm just really, really tired and really really sad.  It will be nice to see my family, at least for a few days.  I wish, at the age of almost 59, I had a few more options.  Guess I'd better think about trying to move to Canada. Or something.

WHY WE ARE HERE

I have a friend who I consider to be my brother.  We grew up together, riding bikes in Darboy, Wisconsin when there were open streets and roads bordered by cornfields.  We laughed and talked and sometimes competed and completely loved one another.  He is more my brother than two of my siblings who are blood related.  We never lost touch with one another over the course of 42 years.  We have seen one another through every incarnation of our friendship and our love for one another.  It's a testimony to the resilience and eternal nature of friendship.  The lines blur until this wonderful person is so much a part of your life, your heart and your soul that, near or far, they are a constant...with you always.

My brother has prostate cancer.  He is younger than I and he is scared and in the first stage which is grieving.  I have been on the phone encouraging him in the very reason he didn't want to tell me. He cries.

Please, all my male friends, quit the shit.  If you would cry when things hurt and talk about the things that make you nuts and actually share your feelings, I believe that the cancer rate would go down.  In the meantime, I am dealing with my brother.

I would never betray him by sharing his identity so let's just call him "Johnny."  Any wanderer in the world of cyberspace who may happen upon this blog, speak his name and send it on high.  Just speaking the name of someone afflicted with an illness, accompanied with the faith that says someone hears it, impacts the universe.

Johnny has so  much left to give to this world. I know in my heart it is not his time.  I hate what he is facing as far as pain and exhaustion because Johnny, like me, can't stand a day that didn't produce something that makes the world better.  Even if it's just grading a road before the snows come.  Even if it's just learning a new skill that would make me a better employee.

We are partners on a soul level.  I'm not ready to lose him.  He's not ready to go.  So, any and everyone, just say his name..."Johnny"...God will sort him out from the other "Johnny's" because God already knows.

I guess that's all.  I want to ride in with the cavalry and make everything right and there is no cavalry and I have no control.  Except to love him, support him and be there any and every time he asks me to be there.

Pray for my brother.  My prayer is that, somehow, just once, this blog gets some attention.  Regardless, I have just asked the universe to take care of Johnny.  The rest is up to God...and me, since I will be there for him, regardless the day, time or expense. He ain't heavy.  He's my brother.

BASEBALL AND SEX

I'm up late nursing a loss to the Padres. This time of year is baseball at its best and the best team in baseball in my estimation is the Colorado Rockies.  So after the loss, I have to do something to settle my crazy brain and I'm watching an episode of "Parenthood" where the kid is doing the "where do babies come from routine."

What is wrong with us as homo sapiens. We are the only part of nature that is frightened, ashamed and unable to communicate to our young how life begins.  I can't conceive (no pun intended) of a dog saying to his mate ("Oh, don't tell him, he's too young to know.")

Idiot people of America...it is nature.  It is our responsibility to fully educate our children as to how they came to be.  And for you Evangelicals, you should be the first to educate your children because as far as your teachings go, God created this methodology.

Good Lord, when my poor Catholic mother was forced to "educate" my sister Jane and myself, she gave us a book from the Catholic church that we were supposed to read before Mother was then to talk to us.  We read this nutsy thing about God and Fathers and Seeds and it made absolutely no sense.  Mother left us alone for a while and then asked if we had any questions.  We both said "no" and Mother, quite relieved, left the room.  I then asked Jane "Do you have any idea what that was all about?"  She said "no".

Oh, by the way, Mom lucked out because that was also the "period" talk that they addressed in a different, riveting episode.  It gave advice that a cold water bath would check the flow.  Of what we weren't sure.  I remember my first cold water bath to try to check my period. God knows why you would even need or want to do that.  The cramps convinced me that I wouldn't do that again.

My point is that I told my son about sex while we watched the sun rise over Virginia Beach overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  He asked and I told.  I was scolded a few months later when his stepmother called and said "I just want you to know that Jimmy just told Felicia that she has a vagina."  My response was: "Well, she has one, doesn't she."

I'm not certain why America is so screwed up about sex.  All of our advertising, our media, our booming businesses, our popular singers and entertainers are objectified and work day by day to be perfect examples of sexual delight.  Yet, we don't want anyone to tell us about where babies come from.  What is freaking up with that?

Back to Baseball.  How does this tie in?  Honesty.  If a guy needs to be pulled out of the game, hurt feelings be damned.  Pull him out.  It's about the season.

If a kid asks you about sex for Christ's sake, tell that child the truth.  It's about the rest of their life.  An error in baseball could mean a game loser.  An error in your child's knowledge and preparedness regarding sex could mean a pregnancy.

I love Baseball.  I love our kids more.  This odd convergence of the two subjects was a complete accident but I welcome it.  I hope someday I reach some people.  I have so much to say and I care beyond measure.

The Rockies aren't out of it yet.  Take care of your kids.

9 YEARS AGO

Nine years ago, I watched Denver Bronco Ed McCaffrey break his leg on Monday night football.

The following morning, I was awakened by a phone call at about 6:30 by my best Pal, Thom, asking me "Do you know what's going on?"  I had gone to sleep listening to Sports radio, so I said "Eddie's out for the season, his leg is really badly broken."  Thom responded that I had to get up and turn on the TV...that a plane had just flown through the first tower of the World Trade Center.

I'm not going to recount all the pain and horror of that day. We lost countless wonderful, bright and hopeful people of every faith, ethnicity, size, shape, color and ideology.  We lost every contribution these lost souls could have made to their families, their neighborhoods, their city, their country and their world. We lost our neighbors and our friends.  It was a horrific attack. However, one of the reasons that this attack remains so vividly raw, painful, abominable and unbelieveable is because we, as a nation, are so very fortunate.

We are not Europe...Spain, Ireland, London -  We are not Palestine,  Israel, Afghanistan or Iraq...We are not Africa...Darfur, Somalia...We are not Eastern Europe... I guess what I'm saying is that nine years later, we are the United States of America, still painfully grieving a single incident. Please don't misconstrue this statement as a minimization of what happened on September 11th, 2001.

However, as a mighty and powerful nation we have observed while other nations have endured daily attacks, multiple bombings, torture and other horrific wounds.   While our neighbors on this planet live with these painful and sometimes daily realities, we in America  look to this one terrible incident...the first such attack on our soil since Timothy McVeigh...a domestic terrorist who wanted to "water the tree of freedom."  This USA born and bred Iraq veteran slaughtered hundreds of innocent victims, including tiny children in a day care center, when he successfully detonated a fatal and deadly car bomb at the the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City.

Timothy McVeigh was proudly white. In an interview before his execution, he maintained pride in what he had accomplished.  The victims were, in his own words, "collateral damage" and a means to the end of his statement against the intervention of the United States government upon our freedoms. Waco Texas was his inspiration.  The fact that David Koresh held his alleged followers captive and had sex with the children of the "flock" didn't seem to bother McVeigh.  Only the government intervention pissed him off.  At the time I was a youth minister and we worked on a project as to how things like this happen and how to deal with life in the aftermath.  We did this without blame or hatred.  We did this to try to understand what had just taken place in the middle of America.  I remember everything as if it was yesterday.

Funny...there's one thing I don't remember. I don't remember a backlash against young, male, white people after that horrific attack occurred in our homeland. I remember that upon each anniversary of this horrific attack upon our homeland, people rang bells and held memorials.  Honorable and meaningful gatherings of people who joined together to comfort and help one another through...even today these people band together in community and love.

The 9/11attack was exacerbated by the fact that only a few months earlier, the serving  president ignored a daily briefing that pretty much laid out the details of the very act that came to fruition on that day. This president scoffed and ignored it.  He couldn't be bothered.  He went on vacation.  He continued to bask in the longest and highest number of vacations that any president has ever enjoyed in the history of this country.  While a nation wept, purchased duct tape and gas masks (where available...another panic driven market that ripped off the frightened public thanks to Tom Ridge) and lived in shocked and dazed fear, the president played golf.  If you doubt me, here's the direct quote from the former president:

" I call upon all nations to do everything they can to stop these terrorist killers. Thank you. Now, watch this drive." 

We stand this day at such an important crossroad.  We can continue down the path that is being perpetuated by the Palins and the Becks and the Gingriches and the Limbaughs and the Hannitys.  We can continue to target and blame a particular group of people who share a faith that predates Christianity.  Since life is so often reduced to the path of least resistance, guided by the hate-mongers the country follows and funnels all of its hate and anger upon the Muslims. Unlike Timothy McVeigh, they are kinda tan and have an accent and dress differently so we have an easier target.

There is another road.  We can, first, remember the lost. We can remember and thank the heroes who ran into those buildings and lost their lives on that fateful day.  Even more, we can join the effort to provide medical and mental health care for the heroes who survived the onslaught and are now dealing with every illness, pain, and disorder as a result of what they experienced.  We can also get off our asses and try to build bridges in our country and in our world, utilizing the virtues of discourse, kindness and understanding as opposed to hatred, bigotry and blame.

We are so very lucky.  This big, bad-ass country is still standing.  And I'm flying my flag high as I have for years.  Yeah, all that crap you hear about us liberals hating America is a bunch of hooey.  I would just like to see us, as a country, deploying all that big, bad-ass strength to build a better, safer, and more generous world.

You can start with the burka-clad Muslim woman in the grocery store looking furtively without a friendly face and ask her if she might need some help.  You might smile and tell her that the canned vegetables are on aisle six. It begins there.  It's really as simple as that.

My life is no peaches and cream but it is Heaven compared to most of the rest of the world. Tomorrow I will get up in my safe house with my three dogs and two cats, my gardens, my canning jars awaiting another day of putting up my fall preserves and a weekend to care for my home.  So many of our brothers and sisters around the world are, tonight, sleeping on the ground.  They attempt to rest, fitfully, finally awakening and wondering if they will find a drink of water this morning. Perhaps a bite of rice for my failing child.  I, in turn, will probably have an invitation from one of my friends to go out to breakfast.

I struggle with the disparity and have many times turned down the invitation and then donated what I would have spent to a worthy charity.  But this isn't about me.  If I sold everything I owned to give to them I would become a burden upon my own community and that is not what I'm saying.  We need to enjoy our life and our friends and our families.  I only want us to realize how very fortunate we are and act upon that fortune rather than accepting it as a way of life.  It is not a way of life for so much of the world.

I also believe that we should forever commemorate this day. We should always bless and remember those we lost.

However, I believe that those angels, now watching over us, would want more out of us than countless recitations of names, throwing of roses in a pond and re-viewings of the planes flying through the twin towers.  I believe that they would tell us to count our immense blessings and get off our behinds to make this a better world.  How about it?  Are you in?

Will you still be writhing in the pain of this attack year after year or will you choose another course. The latter choice will mean turning off Fox News and turning on your inner moral compass.  The one that tells you to love one another.  You know...the thing that Jesus would have done.  He loved everyone.  How about you?

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PERHAPS IT'S WHAT THEY WANT

The silence of the right after General Patraeus warned about the dangers of an ignorant, southern, white church holding a Koran Burning assembly on September 11th makes me wonder if they might just want the resulting anger and retribution from the Muslims of the world.  Those who have read 1984 know the campaign of eternal war is one of the ways of keeping a society in line.  Plus, America is really good at trading out hate groups.  Oh, we can handle several at a time but they are on a tiered basis.  Right now, I'd say the top three in order are Muslims, Brown people and Gays.

I'm so sick of hate. I'm so sick of hate-mongers hiding behind freedom of speech with no impediments as they spew their venom and propagate unfounded fear to low information or uneducated members of our society.  They know it works. Put a lie out there and that's the first piece of information people hear.  All the arguments to the contrary, including a confession from the liar that he/she "misspoke" does no good.  The lie is out there and has already been accepted by those thirsting for a reason to justify their prejudice and hatred have taken it to heart and are off to the races.

We need a movement.  We need to get off our asses like we did when I was a kid in the 60's.  Sing, yell, protest, march...not this Glen Beck bastardization of a rally but real discourse and instead of "Hell no, we won't go" (as was the chant during the Viet Nam war) we need to stand against the party of "NO" and shout "HELL YES...WE VOTE YES!"

Obama is not perfect and the great communicator is too often a professor.  That's because he's really, really intelligent and makes the mistake of thinking that the the American public is also intelligent.  When he says that I cringe because I know it to be nonsense.  However, the man has worked virtual miracles with an economy and two wars and more disaster than faced any president since the 1930's.  So will I stand with him and will I vote?  HELL YES!  Enthusiasm be damned.

They say we lack enthusiasm as Democrats.  Well, I have lots of enthusiasm for my Congressman, Ed Perlmutter and will work my butt off to get our house district Candidate, Rhonda Fields elected and I will vote for Michael Bennett. My enthusiasm for him is not what I'd call over the top but, by God, he is Jesus walking on water compared to "Conservative Ken Buck" for God's sake. I'm also sending money to individual candidates across the country. I know $5 isn't much but if everybody sent $5 just think of the grassroots campaign these people would have.

Don't count us out in the election.  As to the book burners...this idiot pastor actually used the non-word "tragical" to describe the idea of a soldier dying because of their church's actions.  I think we ought to raise billboards in this country saying "America loves ALL PEOPLE OF ALL BELIEFS."

We need to shout about how many of us are just fine among our Baptist, Catholic, Muslim, Jewish, Mennonite, Jehovah Witness, Buddhist, Methodist, Wickin, Presbyterian, Hindu, Church of God, Unitarian, Baha'i, Quaker, Mormon, Agnostic, Amish, and Atheist neighbors.  I'm sorry, I know I skipped a bunch but in the interest of making the point, I hope you'll forgive me, I didn't intend to slight anyone.  Not that an Amish person would even be reading this, but you know what I mean.

And if we're not just fine among all of these, then we'd better get fine.  It was why the Pilgrims came here.  Freedom of religion.  Contrary to all the voices who say this is a "Christian" nation, this is a nation that was founded upon the freedom to practice every faith without persecution.

And, yes, it's in the Constitution.

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BASEBALL AND HOME

When I was a little kid, the baseball games were always on.  Back then, there was only one game on the TV... the game of choice for one of the three networks. We got to hear Dizzy Dean's wonderful bending of the English language with such verbal jewels as "he just slud into third!"  Interviews with Casey Stengel.  Gems that fell from Yogi Berra's mouth like chipped diamonds.

As I write this, the Rockies just beat the Padres 4-3 and I'm completely distracted by the commentary by our Manager, Jim Tracy, who freaking rocks by the way. To my point.

Parents give you unintentional gifts.  From the time I was an infant, it was obvious that I was a musician. But the inundation of athletics and, particularly, baseball in our home, the fact that Dad taught his daughters to throw and catch and to stand at the plate with a chance to hit the ball just like the boys - then to top it all, taking us from an early age to see the Milwaukee Braves play at County Stadium in Milwaukee gave me something that is as much a part of my heart as is music.  I am exhausted after I watch a game because I stand at the pitcher's mound and I stand in the Batter's Box...my body feels the swings, and every muscle in my body feels the pitch when it flies across the plate.

I am looking into ideas for getting me out of the house and involved in life since the accident pretty much screwed my opportunity to return to the Improv community. So, now that I'm becoming a bit more mobile and am dealing with the residual pain issues, I'm ready to get out and do something and it has to be in performance.  I wish I'd been chosen for the job I applied for so long ago.

When the Rockies were becoming a reality in the early 90's they ran an ad for the team organist.  I wrote the coolest letter and included a resume of everything I'd done, my knowledge of baseball and ability to know when and where to play, and how it would be so cool if the daughter of a coach became a part of a major league ball club as a MUSICIAN.  I didn't get the job.  I was really sad. That would still be my happiest job of my life. Revving up a crowd with my ridiculously creative brain. (They don't know what they're missing.)  Ah well...

Again, I took a trip down the tangential river.  I have always been a fan of boat rides so I hope you enjoyed it along with me.

I'm mostly thinking about how when you're a teenager you have, by necessity, an adversary relationship with your parents. You are establishing your personality, your ideas and your independence.  The time to worry is when a child just complies with everything its parents say throughout its growing years and never even attempts to develop its own identity.  While annoying, disturbing and difficult because parenting is such a long time investment, letting go and allowing them to grow up is such a challenge. The word "NO" from your child is actually the first sign of success.

So, in the "no" time there were a lot of disconnects.  A good parent keeps presenting the connects and I got those.  Countless baseball games:  High school, Legion and Major League.  I guess that's why my list of favorite movies contains Broadway musicals (including Damned Yankees) but also "Field of Dreams," "Eight Men Out," "Bull Durham," "Major League," (filmed in County Stadium, the stadium of my youth and my son's youth to boot) "The Natural," and perhaps the baseball movie I have yet to write with the brilliant aid of my son.  I supply the plot and pithy dialog and he supplies the "inside baseball" knowledge.

You know what's awesome about writing a blog that pretty much nobody reads?  No fear. I'm often told that I hold back and don't tell people who I am. So here I am, sending it out to the universe and nobody knows.  I guess the universe and I are even.  Here I am.  Tonight, I'm home and the Rockies won.  All is well with the world.

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CATS AND FLAME THROWERS

Okay, if you wonder why I love Craig Ferguson, here you go

He just said this country was founded on the premise of entertainment that was best expressed by a cat with a flamethrower in its ass.

The "What Did We Learn on the Show Tonight Craig" had the usual kitten who, in this incarnation, tried to kill a Zombie with a gun and when that didn't succeed, shot a flamethrower out of its ass.

A Kitten. With a flamethrower. In its ass.

How could I not love this man?

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I'm going to sleep now.  I hope.

WELL PLAYED OLD BROAD

I'm sitting here with a bit of insomnia.  Worked late and it's difficult to get spreadsheets out of a compulsive brain. So, I'm watching "Pal Joey" starring (of course) Frank Sinatra and remembering pure joy.

I just put an old pal on the plane today.  Kimmy was my drummer back in the early 80's when I was playing out east.  We had a blast.  She hasn't changed a bit - she's still the same kid she was when I met her - back then she was turning 20 and I was turning 30.  Now she's close to 50 and I'm pushing 60.

She said how she often wishes she'd realized that those were the best days of her life.  I knew it when it was happening, just like I knew it every single day I could make a living as an entertainer.  She remembers every single detail because it was her only real Nightclub/Cabaret experience.  I was so lucky to have so many.

It's funny...she brought up people and events that had faded into black.  But the people we really loved in common were as vivid today as they were almost thirty years ago.  We brought them back to life together, and I got way too little sleep but we laughed and talked and it was simply wonderful.

I also pulled off a great gotcha on my son.  Mind you, this kind of crap was my specialty when I was on the boats.  I was, however, among experts who gave as good as they got. But I digress...to my recent gotcha.

Jimmy found an ad for "Midget Wrestling" and knew immediately that he could push every button in the world with it.  So he cut it out and put it on my refrigerator with one of my magnets.  So I decided to show him the brilliance of "Mother."

Last night a bunch of us were going to meet for dinner, so I arranged that we'd meet at Jimmy's apartment.  I, in the meantime, took that advertisement and cut it to fit the width of a toilet paper roll.  I then took a roll and unwound it several feet and taped the "Midget Wrestling" ad into the roll and rolled it back up.  I then traded my purse for one that was big enough to hide a roll of toilet paper.

When I got to his place I did the usual thing.  "I have to use the bathroom" before we left for dinner.  I replaced his roll with the sabotaged roll.

This morning I got an email with the subject "The Bathroom."  His only comment was "Well played Old Broad...well played."

It gave me immense joy.

One point for the old broad.  Good night...I have a date with Frank Sinatra for about 40 more minutes and I don't want to be late.

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WHAT I TOLD CHRIS ABOUT LIBERALS

I know...this is all going out into the universe and dissolving into little tiny pssssts.  But I keep writing because I need to do it.

I thought I'd share a little about what I think is going to happen in November with Hardball.  I love Chris Matthews!  We share almost the identical laugh.  This is the email I sent to him today.  I am pretty certain that you won't see this blog go viral as of tomorrow, but I can't sit still and silent.  So, I'm sharing with the universe what I shared with Chris.

Hi, Chris. I've been listening to you and a whole lot of very intelligent pundits, protagonists and pollsters talking about the lack of enthusiasm on the left.  Will they come out and vote?  The right has the enthusiasm factor.  The left is ANGRY!  Let me just share an observation that comes completely from my experience here in House District 42 in Aurora, Colorado.

I was an avid Romanoff supporter.  I was very angry at all the DNC money that was put into Bennet, a milk-toast, non commital, appointed Senator.  People like myself and my husband who overwhelmingly made Andrew the nominee (I was a Delegate) at the State assembly Iand whose combined income is about $75K / year) were giving $10/ paycheck (as we did for Obama) to Andrew.  I will always believe that the dynamic, true Democrat (who is trying to figure out where he's going to live and for whom we threw a 44th Birthday party in order to help him retire his campaign debt) got the major shaft.

HOWEVER...I believe that the data used to determine our "enthusiasm" comes from the lack of donations to the DNC, DSCC and DCCC.  I hope I can shed some light on this.  People like myself are sending money to Russ Feingold, Barbara Boxer, Joe Sestak, and our own candidates: John Hickenlooper for Governor, HD 42 Congressman Ed Perlmutter (someone you should have on your show - what an incredible congressman and more energy than a bowl of green chile stew!) and other local candidates who desperately need our help. 

When the DNC, DSCC and DCCC call me, I rip off the names that will prohibit me from donating to them.  Ben Nelson.  Max Baucus.  Blanche Lincoln.  Three is a good number so I'll quit there.  I could go on but I'll restrain myself.  It doesn't matter if they're up for re-election.  They are the symbols of what true Democrats abhor.  The phone bankers and I have quite lively discussions that usually end with me asking "do you think that if you argue with me long enough you are going to change my mind?  I will contribute to real Democrats." I understand that they are beginning to make a list of "us."  Kind of like in the 60's when I know damned well I was on Nixon's list.  HAHH!

When I hear you talking about the fact that "THEY" don't get out there and DO SOMETHING and then in the same breath tell Harold Ford how much you agree with the philosophy of the DLC, I can't help but wonder.  Chris, DLC Democrats are precisely why we get nothing done.  Triangulation does not work.  We have to stand for something.  You can't triangulate with nut jobs!

Here's how it works with me and all the rest of the Lefties who are pissed off.  (Less at Obama than at the Senate and Congress..mostly the Senate) I WILL VOTE. I will vote for Bennett.  I will even put up a yard sign.  (I'll hold my nose as I walk past the damned thing but I'll do my duty.) 

I truly think that the pundits are going to be surprised at how many "me's" are out there.  Dedicated Lefties who will still do what we have to do to keep the wingnuts out.  However, small, targeted grassroots donations to real Democrat candidates will be our modus operandi going forward.  We're done contributing to DINO's.  That doesn't mean we won't vote - we are not idiots.  Never confuse lack of enthusiasm with stupidity!!

By the way, you rock (although I think you're a lot smarter when I agree with you.)  HAHH!!  (LOVE the laugh...my family laughs in a baudy loud expletive so every time you laugh, I laugh too!!!)   And way to go on "Let me Finish."  Nice touch!!!!  

I'll let you know if I hear from him.


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