I Just posted a comment on Larry's blog and realized that I have been talking a great deal about family, or lack of it, friends, or lack of them, and memories, or too many of them. Since I have way too much to do today and am already two hours behind, I thought this might be a good time to add to the blog. Let's start with family. I went to stay with my dad for a few days for Father's Day after spending a week in the hospital. He had a terrible cough and seemed to be getting weaker by the day. He's 88 and still kicking but even so... By Father's Day he could barely walk to the dining room table. I had made lobster tail, filet mignon, and corn for dinner, all his favorites, but he forced down the lobster and left the rest. For those of you who know my dad, leaving anything on the plate is very unusual. Anyway, I took him to the doctor on Monday and he had Pneumonia. They gave him some antibiotics and I stayed with him until Thursday but had to get back for my own doctor's appointments. He is getting better slowly, but needless to say, I am still very worried about him.
I made a card for dad but he was too sick to look at it, and he's got a brain injury so he doesn't really connect, and he's legally blind so he really can't see it. I sometimes wonder why I do it and then I remember why... because he's my dad.
I remember the dad he used to be. I remember the dad who taught me how to dive and do carpentry, to ride and shoot, to fight and to protect myself from the world and from feelings. I think of Reba McIntyre's song "Because of You" and realize that I took on the characteristics of my "knight in shining armor" and never saw the dents.
Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don`t get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid
I lose my way
And it`s not too long before you point it out
I cannot cry
Because I know that`s weakness in your eyes
I`m forced to fake
A smile, a laugh every day of my life
My heart can`t possibly break
When it wasn`t even whole to start with
And now I cry in the middle of the night
For the same damn thing
When I first heard this song I thought it was talking about my relationship with David. Now I am becoming to realize that it reflects more of a pattern. I am never allowed to cry. I always have to be the strong one, always the perfect one, and I always pay the price for it. I have to be Superwoman because that is what everyone wants me to be yet they seem to keep a chunk of kryptonite nearby. Somehow, I am always the one rejected and cast out because Superwoman is not who they want.
I am glad that, while these stupid blogs seem to be "out there" for the world to see, nobody really reads them, much like me. A secret journal that Larry is the only one who reads, and that's ok, because he knows my innermost thoughts anyway, my son confessor. Dan might skim through but he doesn't pay attention to most of it and if it's buried or at the end oh well, se fue. I may yank this after I think better of it anyway.
Back to family. My Boys have been getting worse and worse. It's bad enough that I don't even get a card or call on my birthday, I can understand that and even accept it. But not remembering granddad on his birthday is something else. His should be something special that is marked on a calendar and they can at least give him a call. He has little enough in his life. Then there is Mother's Day and Father's Day. It's not like you can forget them or they can pass unnoticed. Gee, was last Tuesday Mother's Day? Oh, are you my mother? Neither of the grandsons nor the granddaughter even bothered to call dad for Father's Day and that really hurt me. I don't know if he realized it. Although they are quick enough to write their poison pen letters, criticise, and deny the facts while they have no contact with him. He has one child, three grandchildren, and seven great grand children. AND I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO EVEN BOTHERED TO GIVE HIM A DAMN CARD!!! What has our society come to? I'm getting too angry to continue with family. Let me add one point however. Larry never fails to call me on birthdays, Mother's Day, fourth of July, Labor Day, Memorial Day, Spring Equinox, or just because he hasn't heard from me in awhile and is checking to make sure I'm ok. He is someone who cares. He is my son.
Someone once asked me if I had to choose between Max or my children, which would I choose. After a minute they said, "Did you hear me?" I answered "I'm thinking." He saved my life three times, was totally devoted to me, focused on me, I was the center of his world. He never gave me any criticism and only unconditional love. Given the circumstances, which would you choose?
Now let’s get to on the friends. I am blessed to have a great many "friends". Using the face book definition of friends, I have a mountain of friends! I value my friends, true friends, and treasure them. They are more than mere acquaintances that you know in passing. They are people with whom you share a relationship, with whom you share something special, a common bond that keeps you united through good and bad times. They are the people that you could call and say "I'm in jail and need bail money - no questions." and they would put their house up for collateral. They are the ones who actually want to know what is going on in your life and you want to know what is going on with them. They are the ones who, when you have a problem, don't say, "What you should do is..." but "How can I help?" They are the ones who ask "What do you think?" and really want to know. They are the ones who tell you that you have bad breath, need deodorant, look like a slob, did a great job, need to take a rest, or whatever, and you can trust what they say because it is the truth and said with your best interest at heart.
Unfortunately, they are almost all in Los Angeles or scattered about the country, and none of them are here in Ship. While the people here are sweet, for the most part, they are acquaintances and have not reached the status of friend for me. I think the main problem is that there is no central connection point. In LA there was poetry, or writing, or theater, or art, or intellectualism. I have not gotten into any community like that here.
I saw into one such in crowd at the Christmas Dinner last year when the table I was at recounted a story about a Choir competition trip to Europe. Unfortunately, I realized that it was an in group because this was a small town group of married couples who had all grown up and gone to school together. I would never be able to be a part of the group.
Well, I've been going on for several hours now, slow typist that I am. Too much time to really get into memories so we can leave that for another time and I will try to get to the gym for a few hours. However, I did want to throw in a poem I wrote two years ago about my first fourth of July fireworks without my sweet Max.
I have been talking about getting my new service dog in February, hopefully, and getting very excited. As the days get closer, I find myself fighting the urge to call Nancy and ask if they will have a suitable dog for me in that team training session. Of course, the next hurdle is, will it be a dog that I will with and that will bond with me? So many variables! But, like a good marriage, when it all comes together just right... there is nothing better. So in closing this epistle, here is the poem:
LAND OF THE FREE & HOME OF THE BRAVE
You were so special.
Always putting up with
the indignities
every holiday
brought.
Another costume,
another outfit,
another cape,
or lights,
or twinkles
and bobbly star headbands
just to help
increase the degradation.
Your best friends,
Purkle Piggy and
your faithful Tigger,
were not spared
my warped sense of humor.
Poor Purkle Piggy
was smaller
so you could hide him,
somewhere.
Left on his own
he could escape
the suffering of such
public indignation.
But, Tigger,
being too big too hide,
needed to be saved,
as much as possible,
from insult
to his overly large ego.
You would
use your giant paw
to casually
knock off
whatever kind of
ridiculous decoration
I had put on
your faithful friend’s head.
Then,
wrapping your paws around
the two foot long Tigger
you drew him close,
as if to protect him
from as much
of the embarrassment
as possible.
You would quietly
suck on Tigger’s feet,
or neck, or nose.
You’d whisper in his ear,
“Don’t worry, pal.
The insanity’s only temporary,
It ends with the holiday.”
But, everything changed
when it was time to work.
Somehow,
it was different when I said,
“Max, Get dressed.”
and proud!
That perpetual motion machine
He’s sooo cute!”
And you knew the next thing
Was an extra helping of petting
And some special attention.
So those humiliating outfits
had a benefit after all.
But today,
today was the 4th of July.
It should have been
my Independence day.
But, this year
there were no silly outfits.
Instead,
Purkle Piggy stood
at attention,
guarding
A brown wooden box of ashes.
Tigger laid
quietly on my bed.
No decorations.
No humiliations.
And I found myself
still depending on you.
To steady me when I walked.
To watch out for me.
Yet it was someone else’s job who
couldn’t tell me when
my blood pressure was rising,
or when I was getting too tired,
or when the crowd was becoming too much,
because
he was only human and
he didn’t have a
bobbly star headband.
He hadn’t
looked and seen the wonder
of the "boom-boom" fireworks
that we had watched
together for fifteen years.
He couldn’t wag his tail
At the shear joy of all.
And not one person said,
“aww, look at the cute doggie.”
when they looked at him.
I wept quietly,
in the dark lonely night.
And not one person even noticed
in the "boom-boom’s" red glare.
As I left, I took one balloon
That said “land of the Free”.
Because now I say good-by,
to my best and dearest friend.
The Lord has called you home
and said,
"Well done,
good and faithful servant.”
I know you play now,
In the “land of the free
and the home of the brave,”
no longer suffering the indignity
of wearing those embarrasing
bobble star headbands.
eating 
