Category: musings

YOU….

theycallmebetty7 Comments

As of late there has been a long enduring power struggle taking place within our home. It seems our 15 year old has taken it upon himself to follow in his father’s footsteps despite my best attempts to thwart his actions. To say I am disheartened would be an understatement.

My mother once told me at the height of my rebellious, disrespectful path that she hoped I had children and they were all J U S T L I K E M EEEE! Thankfully that didn’t happen, yet the one that is like me, JUST LIKE ME has embraced my persona of old with full-fledged gusto.

I once had a teacher in high school, I believe she was my French/English teacher who at the end of my junior year grabbed me, pulled me in close and with a quiet voice asked me a question that’s stuck with me for 33 years.

What are you going to do when your looks are gone?

That’s all she said, then with a smile wished me a good summer and went about her business. No explanation, no further words of wisdom, just that, a wink and into the classroom she vanished.

Now it wasn’t that I was a particularly great looking kid, I was average at best. But that damn question would pop into my head out of nowhere and it haunted me from senior year and beyond. 

What are you going to do when your looks are gone?

Why would she say that to me? What was its purpose? Was it a joke? It took many years with it rolling around my head when one afternoon while pondering the good old days I figured out exactly what Ms. Kaplan meant.

It really had more to do with my personality than anything. About buckling down and putting myself and my future first! I treated everything as a joke. I still do to this day but on a much smaller scale as life has honed my ability to recognize the importance in certain situations. Take an average kid who likes to be the center of attention, make everyone laugh at all costs and who is willing to go along with just about any plan that may arise to ensure I was someone’s friend and well you had me. You also had a gigantic recipe for disaster.

Late for class? Who cares, I am with my friends. Disrupting class, oh well I made everyone laugh, who cares that I missed todays assignments and disrespected my teacher. I’ll apologize with an honest smile on my face and a caring tone in my voice. It will all smooth over, it always does. Sent to the office for cutting class? A twinkle in my eye, some cool charm and I will get out of it. Trust me.

Ms. Kaplan saw this in me. She never bought any of my bullshit and there was rarely a time when one of my sly patented smiles ever got me anything other than a smile in return.

And so here we are. Today I asked my son the very same question.

What are you going to do when your looks are gone?

For you see unlike myself, my 15 year old is a very good looking kid (got it from his mother). He has a million dollar smile and has learned to use it to his advantage. But he is struggling ethically and scholastically. He disrupts class to be the center of attention, does anything, anytime, anywhere to make someone laugh, and has a very strong sense of who he is and what he wants to become. So needless to say when I posed Ms. Kaplan’s question to him he merely stared off into the distance not knowing what to say.

He looked just like me.

I explained the importance of this question and what it ultimately meant to me. I explained that for the most part these people he is trying to impress will be long gone from his life 5 years from now. I tried my best in showing him the importance of working hard now for a later reward. That all his dreams of participating in college rodeo are rapidly slipping away as he chooses his in the moment friends first, making them laugh while slacking on his responsibilities and rarely living up to his word. I even explained that saying no to your friends sometimes is ok and if they get mad or don’t want to be friends anymore because you are chasing you’re dreams that’s ok as well! The hardest thing to explain or get him to understand was that a few of my closest friends are the ones who understand when I’m busy, care about my dreams as I care about theirs and at one point or another before we became good friends we may have even told each other to Fuck off at some point. Respect was earned and friendships arose from the ashes. It is ok!

We only want the best for our kids, parenting hopefully through learning from our own mistakes, but one sentence spoken through echoes of my past brought it all home, and it hurt.

It hurts because I don’t want to see him fail yet his stubbornness is strong (yeah that one’s mine). It hurts because if he keeps going he is going to land hard and that will hurt him, although that may be exactly what it takes. It hurts because we love him as we love all our children.

A repeated theme came from our discussion and I thought I would share.

YOU

Only YOU can make a difference in YOUR outcome

YOU are the only one in charge of YOU no one else

YOU are the only one who can chase YOUR dreams

YOU have the power to say no

YOU are the only one responsible for YOUR grades

YOU are the only one responsible for YOUR homework

YOU are in charge of YOUR emotions, no one else

If YOU need help then YOU need to ask

YOU should rely on YOU to complete tasks, if you receive help fantastic but make sure it’s YOU that determines if they are complete

YOUR word is really all that YOU have that explains who and what YOU are

Only YOU can hate and only YOU can love

YOU need to remember we love you always

And YOU were a gift from God, don’t waste that gift.

All of this came from one child struggling to find YOU in himself and one English/French teacher who haunts my past.

Thank you Ms. Kaplan If you touched me this way from so long ago, I can only imagine how many you touched during your career.

And all of this insightfulness was because of YOU.

 

 

 

 

So you’re an expert? Hmmm?

theycallmebetty1 Comment

One of the greatest things about the internet is its ability to connect people and share information. Sharing information creates an ability to learn, understand and grow. It is what helps us better understand ourselves and the plight of those around us.

Today during my usual coffee and cruise (the internet) I stumbled across an article about how I should be raising my child. Notice I said “should be” because apparently I am doing it all wrong! There were a couple interesting pointers from this apparent “expert” to which I chuckled for the sheer naivety. In the end I felt the article to be immature and lacking. Scrolling to the bottom an authors name with picture prominently displayed led me to do a little research.

She is appears to be an early thirties mother of one 5 year old girl. She is also a child psychologist.

Why does this matter to me? Because as I let out a heavy sigh, the sigh reserved for those of us with years of experience under our belts handling multiple children spanning several age groups and personalities. A humorous analogy popped into my head.

Taking serious advice from her on exactly how I should be raising my children is the equivalent of relying on a new probationary fighters experience to get me out of jam during a fire. I know she has countless hours of clinical time, with countless papers studying the human child, but just like a new firefighter has countless hours in the burn room and on the training grounds none of that matters until it is your own out in the real world. That ladies and gentlemen is the game changer.

So yes you may have a few good ideas, you just lack the experience to back it up when things go sideways.

As any well-worn parent will tell you, raising children is NOTHING like they envisioned while pregnant with their first child. The process is not static but continually dynamic and though incredibly rewarding will humble any human being. I hope she does a re-write in twenty years after a few more kids, I think her Democratic approach will sound a bit more like a combination of Autocratic, Democratic, Laissez-faire, and Paternal. For no one way truly encompasses all situations.

Thank you for the morning laugh though… (insert Betty Rubble giggle here)

 

 

And so we say goodbye..

theycallmebetty11 Comments

Quietly we slipped into town. It had been a while since I last stepped foot in my hometown of Sonoma California and as we meandered through streets filled with wandering tourists my memory tried hard to visualize this once peaceful quiet place as it was many years ago. This town still holds a certain charm, a quaintness which unfortunately now feels like a false front. Gone are homes actually owned and lived in by people downtown, instead each cute little cottage or early 1900’s home is filled with one type of business or another. Gone is that small town feeling where mom and pop mercantile line the plaza. Instead the city is surrounded by winery getaway bungalows, tasting rooms, restaurants, and high end hotels catering to those with wine adventures on their mind. Oh there are a few small business breweries, diners and stores but for the most part as you drive in it no longer has that small town charm but more of a high dollar Los Gatos feel.

The traffic was horrendous and as we pulled into Duggans for dads memorial service it was evident no one held an ounce of patience for driving across this very congested portion of the city leading to downtown. Standing outside for a moment before walking in to face family and friends I did soak up the Sonoma sun and smiled, remembering how blessed I was to grow up here. Something I have never taken for granted.

Once inside mom and I placed a few pictures around, made sure everything was in its place while beginning to welcome people with open arms. Last night I had decided for me at least this was not going to be a sad event. Dad wouldn’t have wanted that, besides I have learned over time there is no reason for us to cry or be sad. The only reason we cry is for ourselves, our own misery with someone we love being gone forever. Our loved one feels no pain, carries no worry and would only want those of us left behind to smile, remembering the good not the bad.

After many, many hugs, some wonderful conversation, and several well placed jokes we came inside and began the service. Our pastor was fantastic, light, charming and funny he brought a warmth and glow to this occasion that was desperately needed. Family sat in front and when it came time to speak, my mother did her very best to relay how she felt and followed up her recollections with directions for after the service.

Next it was my turn and I have to say, I was pretty nervous. I started with a joke. Dad and I had spoken on several occasions about memorials and funerals. Our running gag was never had either one of us heard a family member walk up to the podium, thank everyone for coming then slam their fist on the table, look the audience in the eye and say: John Doe so and so was a Son of a Bitch!!!! So that’s what I did by sharing that story! Thankfully the room laughed and just like that my nervousness melted away just a little. Pulling a prepared statement from my jacket pocket I cleared my throat, steadied my vocal chords and began to read:

What I learned from watching my father.

Many things can be said about Robert Franceschi

He was a charmer when need be.

A friend for life once you worked past his often times gruff exterior.

A hard worker

He loved 49r football

He was my dad

But it’s not the image he portrayed that matters to me, instead it is what he taught me from witnessing his actions as opposed to his words. For we know as young emotionally charged youth we fight against our parents every chance we get. Yearning for freedom of our own, to make our own decisions without help from our parents so called “words or pearls of wisdom”. No it’s what I witnessed, without words through silence filled deeds and actions that resonates so very deep within my soul.

From watching my father since the moment I can recollect his life lessons rang true, teaching me…

It’s never too late to re-invent yourself – Dad struggled and worked hard every day to support his family and even when things didn’t go his way he never gave up. We were never rich, often times just barely having enough money to get new school clothes was a burden but my dad did what had to be done and if that meant going from a salesman to a barn builder, a store owner to a restaurateur then that’s what he did. Was he scared? You’re damn right he was, but he always tried and it’s because of him that I have never been afraid to try something new, reinvent myself, morphing into a new side job or purpose and I will sell my last belonging to make sure my family always has what they need.

A love of animals- My dad loved animals, he loved horses, dogs, cats, birds and ostriches. Oh he complained like hell about them, especially my mom’s dogs! But when he wasn’t complaining and no one was looking that tough guy wall came down and he would sit with a dog/cat on his lap or a bird on his shoulder. When his last horse passed away he was devastated for as he put it; Goldpiece was the only one who listened to me anyways.. I love my horses, dogs, chickens, pigs and cats. They are part of my family and whenever they hurt, I hurt. It’s because of my father’s spirit for animals that I care about them as much as I do. I couldn’t imagine life without pets and livestock roaming our property. Whether for riding, petting or putting dinner on the table they are a huge part of our lives. And yes whenever that damn SPCA commercial starts and Sara McLaughlin begins singing while sad puppy eyes stare back at you through the tv screen well I am here to say you just may find it raining only behind my glasses.

To sing whenever possible. I know right? No one can picture my father standing tall in front of a crowd singing his heart out. Well he didn’t, but what I learned was no matter how difficult a day’s become when a song comes on the radio that you love don’t be afraid to belt it out! For you see many times I witnessed his day/mood go from bad to good with nothing more than a good country song and some alone time inside the Ford truck recording studio traveling down Hwy 12. The power of song is amazing, you don’t need to know how to sing or even sing well but for those two and a half minutes you are George freaking Strait and no one can take that away from you. I drive my kid’s nuts to this day singing every song that makes me happy as it billows from our cars speakers. When I am through I always have a slight smirk upon my face.

A genuine appreciation for the automobile. Dad loved cars, all kinds, makes and models and that love trickled down to me. From the time I could walk I can remember staring at this truck, crawling around in that car and listening to my dad tell stories about not having much money so one time he painted a car with a roller and brush. When dad purchased a restored 1936 Ford and brought it home it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. With its swoopy fenders, giant bug eye headlights and sparkling chrome grill that car was to me what was right with the world. Soon after a 1941 Mercury arrived and not long after that a 1921 Model T. The two latter cars are in my garage awaiting the day they will travel the roadways again with the same regal status they once held within their time. Nothing made my dad smile more than when he drove one of his old cars.

Nothing in this life is given to you and hard work pays off. Shake a man’s hand when you see him, look him in the eye, your word is more important than anything you possess. If not for watching him work the way he did while trying his best to keep things running at home I never would have learned the patience needed to understand the old adage of “Rome wasn’t built in a day”. Yes you can risk it all by taking loans and building your place into the very best place it can be from day one. Or you can work hard, recycle materials and slowly, without debt build something from nothing, hopefully leaving some form of legacy for your children to inherit. I am working hard to teach my children those very same values.

And lastly but most importantly

Marriage isn’t easy- That’s right, marriage is in no way shape or form easy and if you believe it to be some fairytale story you are sadly mistaken. But what marriage is, is filled with mistakes, sometimes big ones! And with those mistakes also come huge successes, both of which help forge a bond between you and your significant other. Learning the ability to say you’re sorry so another doesn’t emotionally suffer and learn to accept apologies in return, forgiving all wrong doing while never holding a grudge. Giving of yourself wholly to your spouse and your family regardless of time, place or series of events. Remembering that someone you love, loves you back no matter what and with that love comes good times and bad, but it’s how we handle ourselves that create true memories lasting a lifetime. Not posed pictures hanging on a wall staged like a portrait session in the woods, but memories of moments alone, together, surrounded by smells, sounds and sights. From the moment you first met to your final kiss goodbye 55 years later. Marriage isn’t easy but done right, marriage is life fulfilling and holds rewards like no other….

I am sure there is a dozen or so more I could recite, but this is where it ends. I know he looks down upon us all, free from pain, free from his broken down body, free from stress and doubt. I pray his spirit sends a sign to my wife so she feels his comfort, knowing he is alright with her not being here to help celebrate his life. I pray he is surrounded by old friends, family and those he cherished. I pray he feels our love and rests easy knowing we are ok, for sadness knows no place when your job here on earth is done.

We celebrate who he was and the legacy he left behind.

I love you dad…

When it was over I was relieved. Sitting down and listening as my Aunt and Uncle spoke, then watching as our former neighbor stood in front and said something that rang so true of my dad. If I was ever in a fight I would want Bob right behind me. Along with; Bob always did the right thing. That indeed was my dad. To hear it from another adult male figure from my young adolescent life was indeed fulfilling. Dad always did the right thing, no matter the cost and if you ever witnessed my fathers rage then you definitely knew you wanted that man in your corner when the shit hit the fan. Not because his anger was a dangerous thing but because as stated prior, dad always did the right thing. That extended to his ability to control and corral that anger, putting it to good use when the moment arose. Usually leaving a UPS driver or two with a need for an underwear change should they be found guilty of speeding on our road.

At the end of the day we had a very nice lunch at Rossi’s, it was such a pleasure to see so many faces from our past. The ability to reconnect, tell tall tales, have a few laughs while surrounded by so many special family members and friends will keep my heart warm for a long time to come.  Its just to bad that life has engulfed us so, that we may only see each other at weddings or funerals.

Either way thanks to all those who gave up their Saturday to pay tribute to my father. I know he was looking down, smiling and wondering just who in the hell was going to pay for the whole damn thing!

God Bless you all..

Tomorrow the adventures continue as the Franceschi clan loads up and heads to Saratoga to spend the day with their mother…

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Another page….

theycallmebetty2 Comments

I was asked to write my father’s obituary to which I declined. I have no answer as to why, other than for some strange reason it just didn’t feel right. Mom of course had no problem picking up the pen as it were then hammering out a short synopsis of my father’s life. After all having been married to the man for 55 years I am sure it came fast and easy.

I haven’t been able to open it.

Mom sent me the obituary in an email. Every day while checking my personal and work emails there it sat, unopened, like an unsolvable Rubik’s cube waiting for me to spin it around in hopes of unlocking its color coding on the very first try. There just hasn’t been any desire to try.

I am proud of my mother, she has handled this all with her feet firmly planted on the ground. Never once has she faltered or wavered in my presence over any decisions since her husband’s passing. She gets out almost every day visiting friends and running errands. She has handled the upcoming memorial with very little assistance from myself and is working on a full reorganization of her life. My mother is living up to the old adage; tough Old Italian woman.

We speak on the phone every day and through conversation she has discussed bits and pieces in regards to her final marital note. It is obvious mom has put time and effort into this little piece that will run in the local paper and yet for a week now, even knowing all she has done I just hadn’t been able to open it, to read it, to absorb what it means to her or anyone who knew my father. I just couldn’t do it, I would scroll past it, move it to another folder only to place it back into the main folder still unread, unopened, as if I was a cold and uncaring person. Scared of what it meant to me.

So with exactly 6 days to go until his memorial service and nothing remotely pressing on my gigantic plate of daily activities, my fingers (on their own accord) scrolled over the email and pressed the little W icon releasing information from the cloud into my server for my eyes to fixate upon and probably wonder why it had been hard for me all along.

And so I read it.

Halfway through my eyes glaze over and instantly I’m transported from my desk inside our fire station to a bench at Prestwood elementary where I sit waiting for lunch. I can smell it, feel it, I have chills upon my skin, my friends from years long gone are buzzing around me, laughing, joking, running playing, I am at ease. The fears of being a small child have enveloped my soul, scared of the bigger kids, jokester to my friends, a storyteller just trying to fit in. My little brain wondering if I will ever understand fractions while hearing my teachers telling us with effort we can achieve anything. Of course all this is happening while I daydream the day away. Yep I find myself staring at a white faced clock with black hands, the second hand slowly moving clockwise eliminating minutes from my daily school experience so I can go home and see what car dads driving home today and hopefully talk him into a game of basketball.

Lights passing overhead as the enormity of the freeway made my eyes larger than pie plates. Dad and I are on a trip to a dealership down south, he works for Kastner Pontiac/GMC and we are trading one car for a truck. I have never been to far from Sonoma in my 8 years and traveling through Sacramento onto 99 south was filled with new sights, sounds and my father singing country music on the radio. (Something I do to this day that drives my kids crazy). It was an all-night trip and I felt like a big kid! It is also where my early love for the GMC/Chevy stepside began. We ate out (something we never did) we sang, laughed and had fun. I slept most of the way home, but for that moment in time I was my dad’s friend, there were no girls (sorry mom) we were hanging out and it was an adventure. Just two men and a really cool truck.

Moving through time we are on a field trip, I cannot remember to where, but I am sitting in a bus full of students and parents. My dad is sits beside me smiling. It was one of the best memories for me as dad rarely made any of my school activities. I remember laughing, joking around and can even still feel the air blowing through the bus as a mixture of the suns golden rays and dust flows through the cabin.

Sitting at a bar while a man serves my sister and I 7up with cherries at Napa Valley Horseman’s Association. Dad was president and he would lead the Monday night monthly meetings. I remember thinking maybe that would be me one day. I can still see the lights of Napa off in the distance from this clubhouse on a hill. Soon we would be off to bed in the camper or later dad’s motorhome. It was the closest thing to camping we ever did and it was always fun sneaking out to watch our parents dance the night away after some of the meetings.

Driving dads Ford 8N tractor helping put fence around our property, mixing cement inside the rotating box scraper/drag that I guess I now own as it sits unused alongside my barn. Hearing him tell me exactly how to do it. Just the right amount of water, too much and it will be soup that takes forever to set, too little and it will crack and crumble never becoming a solid footing for these posts. Hearing him telling me just how far to back the tractor up, getting mad at me for almost smashing his hand with the bucket then forgiving me as I set my third post perfectly. I hear his voice, see him sweating and wonder why I can’t go back in time. I am talking to him but he can’t hear me. He only hears the very young boy on the tractor and not the 49 year old man trying his hardest to speak.

We are riding together, headed to test drive my possible first car. A 1957 Chevy Bel-Air. It was blue with chrome everywhere! The 57 was my favorite car next to the Chevy Stepside and as child I had built several models of this exact vehicle. When we arrived dad was the most charming man you had ever seen. He always knew just how to talk to people when it came to business of any type. They chuckled and laughed, went over the car from front to back. We jump started it as it had been sitting for a while and took it for a ride. It was everything I had ever dreamed of from the time I was 9. My dad was in love with the car, or so it seemed from the twinkle in his eye as we talked about it, how nice it was, how well it ran with a snappy little corvette motor wrapped neatly in chrome under the hood. I’m there all over again, I can even smell the interior. Several thank you’s were exchanged and my father left the owners with the old “we need to think about” line. On the way home I asked when we were going back to retrieve this heavenly piece of Detroit iron, to which he turned and with the same twinkle in his eye responded; we aren’t. The sixteen year old and 49 year old are yelling at him all over again. WHY??? That car is too fast for you, it shouldn’t be your first car. I can still hear him saying it. I was angry as hell, but he knew I would get over it. (I never really did) Dad was right though, as I wrecked my first truck sending it to the scrap yard. I had the pleasure of seeing that car while working at Aunt Josie’s restaurant as its owner would eat there once a week. It had an unmistakable license plate; 5SEVEN. That car lives in my dreams to this day.

Over the years there were times of laughter and great disappointment, times where we tested each other and times we just gave in, never acknowledging we had called a truce. As we grew older the equality of our stubbornness created larger walls between us. We talked once a week, grumbled about each other’s choices and would always part with an, I love you. But one thing is for certain, my father’s laughter, happiness and inexplicable ability to talk with people will always resonate deep within my soul. I have learned from him by witnessing both the success and failure in his life.

Reading the obituary today made it all too real for me. Yes I was there with him in his last moments, and was honored due to my position at work to actually be at his side when the ER doctor called time of death. I was able to hold his hand and cry, wishing he would squeeze back just one more time. I fully comprehend he is and always will be gone from this earth.

I just wish I hadn’t been so stubborn for I will never be able to take back all the times we butted heads or couldn’t come to an agreement on an issue, I’ll never be able to hear him tell me he is or was proud of me, never be able to apologize for the grief I gave him as a teenager. And yes I know I need to take it easy, and realize he had probably forgiven me long ago. I know, I have lived through death many, many times and it is what it is. But even after you put all that aside I think the hardest part for me is now that I have read this permanent record of decease, absorbed its significance, traveled back in time over the last several hours while sadly staring at the wall I come to the hardest part of this whole circle of life bullshit.

I no longer have a dad, and the little kid inside this aging man is crying his eyes out, holding a pillow across his face to muffle the tears wanting nothing more than his daddy to come home and play basketball with him one more time.

Just one more shot dad, it’s not dark yet I swear…….

Unknown

 

 

 

The Barn is a great place to think.

theycallmebetty3 Comments

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Sitting in my barn this morning listening to the horses eat while chattering with each other, the sun crossed over with warmth entrenching the very entrance for which my bum was planted. Smiling at a state of relaxation which overcame my body, a bit of gratitude for all God has placed before me enveloped my being.

And so I pondered…..

Staring at standing water, which was everywhere, in times of past my frustration level would have risen. Instead I am pleased, for even though this means mud all around and frustrated horses it equates to much needed water and lush turnouts in the spring.

It was a heavy soaking rain and a portion of one of our barns that for years no matter the adjustment would flood instead remained high and dry after a summer rebuild. We are slowly gaining ground and this quirky piece of land will continue to challenge us, but seeing the west side high and dry was a huge win! My arena is a small lake, yet the water allows me to see where it needs to be floated and readjusted creating a better arena next year to ride and train.

The back piece where we began building a roping arena before Ms. Jacy went into the hospital has held up perfectly with water shedding in the direction we planed the ground. This means come spring we will add the permanent footing with no adjustments and before you know it the long summer nights will be filled with horses, people and fun. The way it should it be.

I am thankful for the people God continues to place in my life.

We are not supposed to agree or get along with everyone, that would be insane. But as of late I have learned to forgive, forget and understand that many times the problem isn’t with them, it is with me (short of someone intentionally hurting you). A person who rubs you wrong or continually pushes your buttons is who they are and you cannot change that so (as I tell my children) when you are wits end remember that and understand you are the one that has a problem with them! Limit your exposure, take your own stress away and appreciate them, for they have taught you how to become a better you.

An entire community has surrounded our family during these last two years and that support has seen us through many rough spots. We are very blessed to live in a town filled with so many loving caring people. I have sat and watched with pride as our little population has stepped up for the benefit of so many as it seems we are in a weird slump when it comes to survival. The numbers of those in our town reeling from the effects of Cancer, Leukemia, and unexplained tragedies is astonishing! Yet we come together, strap our boots on tight and march to help. Our town folk don’t help for notoriety as I have seen in some places, but because we are still small enough that everyone knows, everyone and genuinely care! There for it is done out of love. There is no greater reason to help.

If you build it they will come. When we built our first barn we hoped to have a bigger family here, a horse family of like-minded individuals who not only loved their animals but enjoyed the company of those around them in the barn as well. We have all been to those barns where everyone complains and the atmosphere is filled with unhealthy competition and all feels toxic. But I can say almost four years later I feel as though we have accomplished that goal. When I walk into our barn I am surrounded by an extended family. Fantastic people who are fun, caring and look out for each other without an inkling of malice or complaint. I am a fan of getting to know each horse and their owners, understanding their personalities, how they behave and react to any situation. We are filled with quite the group and they are all wonderful. My barn manager is also a huge blessing as without her drive and enthusiasm, especially during these very trying times for our family I am convinced without a doubt our place would have suffered greatly. She is my go too, a solid foundation for what we have that I can stand upon; we are very blessed indeed.

Rodeo is a big part of our lives and without an escape from reality into this world I love so, I am certain I would have gone crazy by now. As many of you know I love cutting horses! I love riding them more than anything in this world (thank you Wes and Jalinda) but with my wife being sick that has taken a back seat for the last two years. Rodeo is my son’s passion and to witness this foundation we gave him and our daughter in regards to horses and riding flourish and expand under the tutelage of many great caring and giving adults has been a Godsend for certain. Every weekend we pack up and head out is another opportunity for him/her to reach their goals, take another step forward in competition, and to meet new people even if to only shake a hand and say hello. The rodeo family is huge and they all look out for each other. It is amazingly fun to see so many adults come together for the benefit of not only their children but everyone’s children! Offering help and support while coaching them hopefully to the next level. For me, to be able to help on horseback during the cuttings and in the chutes with other friends during the roping events has allowed me to cheer on so many kids while still feeling like my normal horseman self. To share in this experience is like no other! I hope other parents see it the same way when they are tending a gate, loading a bucking chute or pushing cattle through the chutes. It’s being able to pass on your knowledge, your love for the sport, your passions all while doing nothing more than being the support crew! It has kept me sane through this time of hardship. I thank every family that has adopted me over the last two years. Made sure I was ok, asked how my family and wife are, and ensured I was never excluded or left behind. It’s tough being the lone man out, even tougher when you think about how you can’t share any of these experiences with your wife, your son’s mom, but thanks to this new family I have become a part of I have never felt out of place or alone. I am truly blessed and thankful for you all…

My second family has been behind us all the way and staring here across our fields, I am thankful for the opportunity to do so. Being in the fire service is tough, long hours away from home (especially in the summertime) at times mentally and physically exhausting. But there is no other job quite like it. It also allows you to forge a bond with others like yourself. Living someplace else for a third of your life you become a family, and family always takes care of family. I don’t know how I would have been able to keep my head on straight without the love and support I have received from my fire department family. They have been there from the beginning two years ago, covering shifts, making sure my family is taken care of and always leaving me with these words no matter the time or place. “Whatever you need James” I have been humbled by them all.

Looking over at my dad’s house, I wish I knew it was going to be his last Christmas. I don’t why? It just is resonating with me that maybe we could have carved out more time for him between running around to the hospital and two separate families. I know there is nothing I could have changed and what is done is done. My dad and I hardly saw eye to eye on anything and he could be a touch over the top when he was cranky. But I just wish I could have told him one more time I loved him and given his frail old body a hug. Oh well, I am blessed they allowed us to move them here, where at least he died with his family around him and as we put the finishing touches on his memorial at the end of the month I hope he looks fondly upon all who come to say goodbye and know he was loved.

Staring at the back of my house I think of my wife. How lucky are we she is still with us today? She still hasn’t made it home and it has been almost 7 long months since we drove out of the driveway headed to Stanford for what was supposed to be at the most a 4 month turnaround. Once again the word family rings loud as without this tight, crazy group of misfits that we are I am sure without a doubt this entire process would have been a complete nightmare. Jacy’s family has been by her side every day. Helping with our children, jacy’s care and ensuring she is never alone. Her sisters have brought smiles and laughter and her step mum quit her job to care for her every day! The true definition of a strong family is enduring even the hardest of times and never faltering, no matter the circumstances. To her mom, dad, step mum, sisters and brothers I love you all and admire all that you are as a family. I feel very blessed to be a very small part of what and who you are. Thank you for caring for my wife.

I am also thinking about my oldest son. It has been quite the year for him. Coming home from Humboldt and deciding to join a local junior college to save money while helping me with his siblings. I joke he is my domestic partner, he thinks it’s funny, well not really. We are hoping Jacy is home before August and healthy so this young man who has placed his life on hold to live at home, help raise kids, while going to school can step foot upon Sac-States campus and finish his education. I worry about his ability to grow as a man trapped at home like it’s his senior year all over again. But it is a good deal, he lives for free, helps me and has no bills while going to school and working. Plus he has his beloved dog Cricket by his side! He seems ok after finding his grandfather in the driveway a few short weeks ago, but that is another thing he will live with forever. Thankfully Cody has very broad shoulders and seems to be able to handle a lot. A gift that will serve him well as he chases his dream to become a CHP officer. Blessed to have such an outstanding young adult for a son.

We will continue this fight, hourly, daily, weekly and monthly. Ensuring sanity remains while hustling here and moving about over there, remaining blessed and appreciative for all that we have and hold. Jacy’s fight is far from over. She is slowly regaining a bit of strength but no great progresses have been made. She is very comfortable in her new apartment and continues making her scheduled appointments at Stanford. She still has pretty severe GvHD of the lungs and is battling the very same condition in an eye. Today she is at Stanford getting poked and prodded while receiving platelets. She is also feeling the love this morning as her mom and step mum share the duties of caregiver and transport coordinators. Jacy wakes up each morning, wishes she was home, but is very thankful for her family and to still be here with us!

In summary, I guess it just comes down to what you want out of each and every day. These are things I am thankful for right here, right now. They will not fade away tomorrow or the next day, but instead be built upon, stored in the “forever appreciate” locker inside my head and used for the day when it’s my turn, to show some love, compassion, caring, encouragement, excitement, admiration, and humility at some point during someone’s day.

And for all of that I am truly thankful…

One last thought comes to mind.

You can curl up and die in the shadow of some perceived misery or gather yourself up, stand on your own two feet while learning, absorbing, adjusting and reinventing along the way.

One life right? So I have chosen the latter….

 

 

So I sat in a barn..

theycallmebetty12 Comments

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Yesterday after cleaning house, shuttling children, and spending the better part of an afternoon fixing my tractor (something I hadn’t planned on) a feeling of failure for accomplishing none of my daily goals swept over me yet again. Frustrated and tired, I fight a daily battle of just giving up. Wanting more than anything to walk into the house, climb into bed and pray that maybe I’ll just sleep until this is all over. Lucky for me my will is stronger than my lazy ass, feel sorry for myself attitude so I did something I haven’t been able to do in a while.

I walked into the barn and just sat down.

Now for some there could be no understanding of just how important that moment was for me. You see with life running at a hundred miles an hour there is one thing that has been cast aside day after damn day. My horses.

Jake is doing a good job. He is riding them when it’s not raining, making sure stalls are cleaned and they are fed in the morning. One of our borders Ms. Lisa takes care of them all in the afternoon, spreading the very same love and care I would lay upon them if I were here myself. But I am not and that is my mental meltdown.

Mornings of days past haunt me like an elderly hunting dog who can no longer hunt yearning for one more chance. Feeding, walking, riding, cleaning stalls then heading over to another ranch where the rest of my morning and early afternoon are filled with more horses to ride/train and of course working cows. To enter a show ring, scared to death and no matter the score when it’s over ride out having learned something new. A dream constantly plaguing me, that one day I will ride into Fort Worth on a good sound horse, under the lights with fresh cows. It’s all there, teasing me, feeling father and farther out of reach.

So what does sitting down in the barn have to do with anything?

It is where it all begins. We move so fast every day we forget about our dreams, putting them aside as life throws roadblock after roadblock in our path. Every second centered on the next dollar, the next moment with our children, appointments, sports and well LIFE. Our priorities and supposed priorities.

So instead I chose to stop and sit in my mares stalls. Cassie is my rock, she is a special horse for me. Most stories about people and horses for some odd reason revolve around little girls. I am sure it has to do with ponies, then unicorns, oh wait, pink unicorns and of course countless books written about a girl and her horse! Yet I have seen more than my fair share of grown, tough, grizzled men shed a tear over the loss of their riding partner, their friend. The same dynamics apply for us boys/men as do the girls/women, these animals we’ve spent countless hours riding, training, growing to know and understand become a part of you. As a boy you are John Wayne or the Lone Ranger, Quigley down under or the Man from Snowy River! As a man they are your roping partner, cattle mover or cutting friend. They become a sounding board for your day, they listen to your frustrations without arguing back and keep you in check when your emotions filter into the riding experience. These four legged beasts continually teach us every single time we are around them, whether its patience, empathy, kindness, sharing, determination or love. It’s all there every time they are around, and if they get sick of your attitude because you are the one not listening to them, well you just may find yourself looking up from the ground as a muzzle is looking down upon you. If we are smart, we slow down, take measure of ourselves and reward them for all they have given to us.

Sitting in Cassie’s pen, she snorts at me, walks a few circles as if to ask what the hell I am doing there in her space. Then realizing there was much more on my mind than just occupying her space, she walks over, tips her ears forward and slowly leans up next to me. Once my hands are upon her neck her head drops and she leans a little more. For the next 30 minutes she listened as I apologized for having not been around. She is a funny horse, if she knows you she will talk back, little grumbles here and there but for me it’s like sharing a cup of coffee with an old friend.

I looked around the barn, not at the barn, but actually looked around it feeling disconnected. I think I needed to feel that moment to help me reconnect and reaffirm that although this journey has been a very long two years, in the grand scheme of things it is only a blip in time. Leaving Cassie’s stall she whinnies at me as if to say; hey dad, don’t go! I gave her some fresh hay and moved on, heading over to my daily rider, my amigo Mr. Tank. Checking in with him was much the same, except this old boy is still a proud stud, therefore he doesn’t have much to say unless you are a mare. Then, well he is the Barry White of the barn. Walking around I checked on the other 15 horses in our barn, said hello to each one with a little pet/scratch time in between and by the time I was done, my world was a bit more centered.

I am blessed for all that I have. A great family, good kids, a wonderful place to call home and barn full of some of the coolest animals on earth. Tomorrow is another day, so we will keep trying.

Jacy is still fighting hard. As I have said before we are in for a long tough battle. We were lucky enough to participate in an E-wing Christmas party the other day and it really brought some wonderful Christmas spirit to those who attended. Christmas Carrols, hot coffee and cookies, plus handmade stuffed animals for everyone! I never tire at the caring that comes from each and every staff member in this wing. In a place where it would be easy to only see the negative there is nothing but positive all around! It is never a place one would dread to be, and I am speaking from the patient/family member side of things. I can only image how it must feel to work there, they are all truly special people.

Jacys bladder continues to bleed, we are still hoping for a miracle but know this invasive procedure is right around the corner and as Ms. Jacy says; if it gets me outta here well then so be it! Her diet has been increased again and as of yesterday I watched her eat a turkey burger!!!! It was awful and she could only stomach half of it, but what an incredible step towards walking out! She almost has a full covering of hair upon her head and she is walking a little more each day! Her lungs are still giving her trouble but the breathing treatments she receives twice a day seem to help. What an amazing fighter my wife is, she inspires me everyday.

So hopefully we continue gaining ground, nothing would make our family and of Ms. Jacy happier than seeing her at her dads sometime in January! Please keep us in your prayers.

Christmas is coming, be thankful for all you have for it is not a gift that makes your life wonderful it is the gift of life that makes it all worth living.

 

 

Thankful

theycallmebetty1 Comment

 glad that something has happened or not happened, that something or someone exists, etc.

: of, relating to, or expressing thanks

As people are winding down their 26 days of being thankful prior to Thanksgiving, I ponder. Sentiments aside, these one, often two line quips of gratitude at times feel forced. You know as in; I better come up with something, I have 18 days to go and I wouldn’t want my friends to think I am a thankless idiot! While other lines of recognition feel genuine and heartfelt, leaving one to pause and reflect, often times a nod of approval comes forth as we connect through their honesty.

I decided in late October this was my year to compete in this annual tradition. 26 days should be simple enough, Lord knows there is plenty for me to be thankful for! Being one who thrives on a challenge it appeared as though I would have no trouble. A comfortable location was established, pen and paper solidly in hand when it occurred to me (quite arrogantly I might add) writing down my overwhelming gratitude in one bold sitting would be of no consequence! Just a man, his love for everyone, gratefulness for prayers answered and the watchful eye of an entire community! It would be as my son would say; easy, peasy….

After 30 minutes I found myself with head firmly placed in hands, everything I wrote sounded trite, as if I was pandering, pleading for recognition in my sincerity, my “thankfulness”. Verbs, adjectives nouns and pronouns all clashing together like a 60 car pileup on Interstate 80 in dense fog! Of course the metaphor being fog, as in the soupy, dense thought process consuming my brain! Writing then scribbling, scratching then tossing it all aside! Sitting at my desk going through page after page of printer paper was incredibly frustrating! Of course even more frustrating was the moment I realized; I WAS SITTING AT MY FREAKING DESK! WHY IN THE WORLD WASN’T I ON THE COMPUTER USING WORD!!!

Phew sorry I had to take a break and return my heart to a reasonable rate. 

26 days of being thankful may as well been 2600 days describing the taste of peanut butter! I was stuck and stuck good.. Then like the sun rising in the east, it dawned upon me. I am thankful everyday even when at times I may not show it. So if I were too, let’s say, write down my feelings in regards to being thankful, maybe and this is a big maybe now, maybe I could try expressing myself in one single written act of thankfulness? No little one/two liners or single paragraphs although there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, it just isn’t my style. One written piece that says it all by getting to the root of my thankfulness, no extra explanation, no need to wonder where I am going with it and no publicly being thankful my cat still uses a litter box! (That was day eight on a friend’s page) Although that is a giant plus! Really!

Better late than never! With one day left to go Im diving in head first! Wish me luck!

14 years ago a woman entered my life, she brought with her light. For you see at the time my life was somewhere lost inside a dark tunnel. I was alone, trapped inside myself, cold and filled with hate. Life was not what I had expected, or even planned and I wondered how I would ever be able to share the joys of life with others when there was no joy in mine. For many years prior my personality was a fabrication, a way to hide my insecurities, my short comings. The person I had become over the years I didn’t particularly care for and in reality if I had met myself in an alley somewhere I would have probably kicked my own ass. I yearned for a way out of who I was and what I had become, but did not know how. Stubborn, jaded and incapable of recognizing it was not the world who had a problem with me, but me who had a problem with myself. It was tough to even look at myself in the mirror each morning and I usually hated the upcoming day.

The light walked through my door and she knew, she knew that very minute I was trouble yet there was something more. She knew despite fighting every urge she had to run that this was where she needed to be! She braved the loss of friends and family because in her heart and soul, even though it was confusing and it hurt, this was where God needed her most.

It was a tough decision to love me. She could have done much better, she could have had a better life financially, and she could have found someone with the same values and views right off the bat, but she listened to that voice that said to trust in him. She listened even though at times it frightened her to do so. Sometimes the whole thing was just too much and she would run home for a week or two. After careful reflection she would return, renewed ready to follow this path.

I was no easy catch or treasured prize! In the beginning it was hard, very hard. My angry, one sided, opinionated views were difficult to take, but she took them. She would fight back, never relenting until the hardened crust around me began to break. Even during some of the toughest times she would say, I am never leaving you, never giving up, I know who you are James and I know this will all be ok. I love you.

In the end she was almost always right, I didn’t have to like her methods, but knowing she loved me somehow made it easier to accept my faults. Having her smile at me, give me a hug then let me rest my weary head on her shoulder after a day or two of kicking the ugly side of me to the curb left me feeling protected, needed. She had become the light, carefully leading me from the dark tunnel that was my personality and my life.

For 14 years she has stayed by my side, we have built a life like no other. We have four children who have also benefitted from her stubborn way of doing things, her take no prisoners attitude. One of our children is a solid man ready for the world and three others are following suit faster than I care for! She is the center of our family, the nucleus; from our ranch to the animals that inhabit it, there is a piece of her everywhere you look. She is the best of friends to many, a teacher who loves her students as if they were her own children, a hand that reaches out for you when no one else will with honesty, generosity and love. She loves her town, her church and all of her church family. She has shown our family how life is sweeter when you give of yourself and that receiving Gods love is so very important. She believes everyone and everything deserves a second chance. I used to get upset when she was mad and I never really knew why. Everyone deserves to be mad at some point, I mean no life is so perfect that you are happy all the time. But when she smiles, when she laughs, when she looks at you with that relaxed caring look, you realize you hate to see her upset or mad because it is wasted emotions in regards to who she really is, to what she really provides! To see her inner light as it shines over all who reside within her love.

I really don’t know what I would do without her, she taught me how to accept myself. I still struggle daily with old emotions and it’s hard to not have her here on a daily basis. But inside, when I get frustrated or mad, or feel the “old James” fighting to emerge because it’s the easy way out, I think about the strength of her love. Today when she hits rock bottom with treatment or ongoing issues with her body she looks at me, knows just how much I love her; knows how thankful I am and I’d like to believe it drives her forward. She has given me the strength to be loved and to whole heartedly give that love right back. To shine.

So what am I thankful for this year? Well unfortunately it’s not going to take me 26 days to explain it. (And remember there is nothing wrong with that)

It only takes one sentence.

This year I am thankful the light in my life is still able to shine.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in my life, I love you all…

 

thanksgiving-gratitude

 

What a difference a day makes

theycallmebetty2 Comments

What a difference a day makes

Twenty four little hours

Brought the sun and the flowers

Where there used to be rain

~Stanley Adams-Maria Mendez Grever~

 

Yeah it’s a tad corny I know but you see yesterday Jacy and I had a meeting with her doctor. Now for the last 48 hours work has been my home. Any information received was met with fret as no alternative exists for me in regards to any form of action. In reality there is no “action” to provide for as hard as it is to abide, my wife’s wishes remain the same. Take care of children, ranch, work and you before coming to sit by my side. Being a good husband I try my hardest to fulfill her requests.

I digress… The last 48 was met with daily updates in regards to a nasty gastrointestinal bleed (yes the very same one we have been discussing for the last 7 days) which has grown considerably in volume since the last time we prayed for it to stop. Within the last two weeks another conversation has repeatedly taken place in regards to Jacys care should this bleed become unmanageable in combination with several other issues that keep rearing their ugly head! Not a very comfortable conversation to have.

Now back to the GI bleed. It just would not slow down! Her volume increased, several options were discussed and throughout the last 48 hours her intake of fresh blood and platelets expanded to a point where it became prudent for an offensive stance as opposed to continuing with the defensive wait and see position. Several phone calls were made, and I being trapped within the four walls of one second home (my fire station) began pacing the floor. Talk in regards to urgency of care, ICU and paperwork which appeared unclear to some being properly disseminated so there would be no doubt as to our wishes should this bleed progress with no option for repair.

Nuclear medicine was advised and late Wednesday evening she was shuttled down for a radionuclide scan. A very small portion of blood was drawn then mixed with radioactive isotopes. Once the two were “shaken not stirred” they were re-administered into her vascular system where a machine rapidly captured pictures using gamma rays emitting from her blood to track, trace and locate any bleeds. By 10pm no conclusive evidence had been found. Early Thursday morning after checking her numbers her doctor decided another round of photography was in order as her output was increasing. By noon we had our answer.

Arriving to Stanford at 1130 my mind was weary from 48 hours filled with negativity. You know the very demons I have written about prior, taking hold of common sense and reality, forcing you to dive into the deepest most negative places your mind can go. Yet, I did what I always do once my shoulders pass through those gigantic, elegant glass doors. I stood up straight, put on my best poker face, took a deep breath and walked through as if I hadn’t a care in the world! If only it were true.

I hadn’t been in the room long when Jacys doctor came in. Prepared for the worst, simply because that’s all I’d thought about for the last 48, plus after seeing how much better Jacy appeared I just knew her appearance couldn’t possibly be indicative to her reality. Doc greeted us both, sat down and proceeded to give us a general, sanitized run down of where we were in regards to status. You know, like that little teaser they print on the inside cover of a book that leaves you wanting to either buy it, mull it over or throw it as far as you can. Afterwards he took a deep breath, started talking quickly and confidently while throwing it all on the line. Something I truly admire about this man. Basically; Jacys body needs to start working! They located several bleeds in a section of small intestine and though many options had been tossed around from surgery (although there was some confusion as to where that little rumor started) to an endoscopy procedure where they would cauterize or put a spring style blocker in to slow and stop the bleeding, to continuing the current course which would be platelets and more blood.

This doctor is a fan of giving things a chance. He circumvented a solid push to have Jacys bladder treated with chemicals to stop it from bleeding. These chemicals would have left her incontinent. Why did he do this? He felt even though her bleeding bladder had gone on for much longer than need be, there were other pressing issues and he just wanted to give her body a chance! Result? Clear urine for the last two days! What, what!!!!

Now with many pushing for the invasive endoscopy procedure he stood his ground once again prefacing with: I will do whatever your primary doctor wishes, but you are my patient this month and I am going to fight to give your body a chance! All we need is blood, and we are the largest user of blood anywhere, believe me there is plenty on hand!

When asked how Jacy felt about this she stated that since yesterday the amount of blood coming out feels as though it has slowed down. Her nurse confirmed this to be true, in fact 1/3 as much fluid had been collected during the same previous period of time! To that we all smiled, he (her doctor) smiled the biggest and proceeded to cover some finer aspects of his plan to which we all happily agreed! So we proceed, more blood, more platelets, more waiting and more prayers! I believe not only is she in good hands with her doctor this month, but that something else might just have something to do with it!

What a difference a day makes? Yes this catchy little song popped into my head. I am a sucker for old music and this hypnotic little 1959 tune just naturally stuck. As her doc walked out the door he patted me on the shoulder as if to say; I got this, quit worrying, and relax for a while. After speaking with him, feeling the confidence he exudes in combination with his very straight forward and at times humble explanations what else could I do?

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Pythagorean Theorem=Boobs????

theycallmebetty4 Comments

Over the years my wife and I have spent countless hours helping our children to succeed through both word and deed.

It takes no shortage of creativity, knowledge, a sense of humor and occasionally some good old-fashioned ass kicking to solidly seat things into our children’s thick know it all skulls.

A week ago a new low had been reached in our household, the bottom if you will. All was going reasonably well, homework becoming finalized before an upcoming work week, and yes I can hear a collaborative parental moan now: why wasn’t the homework done Friday night? No excuses, no answer other than it is just the way we roll here at the BCR (Black Cloud Ranch) if it isn’t last minute well then it wasn’t worth doing!

One of our boys, oh hell why beat around the bush; it was the fourteen year old! Anyways he just doesn’t seem to grasp the importance of Algebra! Seriously Algebra! Algebra is the very basis for all math we will NEVER EVER USE AGAIN IN OUR ENTIRE LIVES!!! It might as well be stinking cursive! Who the bloody hell uses cursive or ever thought cursive was so freaking imperative? Isn’t Cursive like the Beta video of language expression? Oh sure I have seen many hybrid versions, you know a mix of block lettering, plain print and cursive. But really in the end it is as useful as a chocolate tea-pot!

Algebra was the very bane of my existence as a freshman in high school, and it appears to be a genetic learning disorder! Yet Jake has one glaring ace in his pocket for which he refuses to take advantage that I never had at my disposal! His mother teaches math! I know right? Mom teaches math! HELLLLOOOOOOO????? You say you don’t understand math, ask your mother politely for assistance and well, 1+1=uh an easy freaking A! But no, Jake stands before his mother, arms crossed as though he was in the center of a Law and Order episode awaiting his lawyer! This boy, this hard-headed, rodeo driven boy, has been given a free ride for way too long based upon his dimples and charm, yet at home his mother and I see the poop thrower from three years of age. His dimples purchase no currency at the parental store of effort and trust. Mom continues teaching, Jake continues fighting the process. My teeth are grinding and my inner voice hears our beloved dentist God Bless her soul telling me to let it go before irreparable damage is done!

Finally after many witty and not so witty exchanges take place mom has hit the wall, this lad has more excuses for why he cannot learn the Pythagorean Theorem than a desert has sand! Who doesn’t understand the relation of lengths in three sides of any right triangle! Right? RIGHT! Ah Duh!!!! (Ok truth be told I didn’t know what it was either until this fight, but hey enough about my adult ignorance!) Yet a no learning wall is up, affixed, complete with eye rolls, heavy sighs, and the occasional slack-jawed look of stupidity.

This entire process of enlightenment and denial was finally broken when my wife, teacher of equations and mentor with wit, creator of interesting theory and conclusions nonchalantly threw out a reference as to the design of her latest mathematical problem looking a tad bit like boobs! Yes you heard me right BOOBS! Brought forward in that casual oh look what I accidentally drew they resemble BOOBS, kinda way! Every teen boys dream! Men and women alike can agree that BOOBS are pretty freaking cool! Right? Hey I won’t lie, I looked! She said BOOBS for Christ’s sake!!! But instead of a chuckle, juvenile laugh or smirk our sense of humors, no matter how imperfect for the moment (seemingly appropriate I might add) were greeted with teenage loaded snide sarcasm and cynicism!

NICE! Now I am not referencing “NICE” in relation too, eyebrows wiggling, crooked grin, hey there look at that or creepy stalker nice; oh nooooo. This was a thoroughly disgusted, grossed out, want to vomit because my mom referenced a girls private parts “nice”.

What the hell! Its boob’s son, no matter how big or small all girls have them! Even some men! How in the hell can you treat it as though it is a dirty word? BOOOOOOOBBBBBSSSSSSS! See rolls off the tongue! Remember when we had the sex education talk and we made you say PENIS, PENIS, PENIS- VAGINA, VAGINA, VAGINA? You thought that was a freaking riot! Red cheeks and all! So what gives? Wait is this because you think we are automatically referring to you moms boobs? Well heaven forbid your mom, a WOMAN has boobs! Or is it because you cannot stand looking at boobs in front of your mom? Well then we have done something wrong if you are ashamed of the female body and all its glorious shapes, curves and dimensions in front of another woman! What is it? No son of mine is going to ramble on with some form of weird embarrassment over a hand drawn set of circles that look conspicuously enough like a set of boobs! (+)(+)

Then it dawned on us, he saw two circles, we saw two circles, he still remained steadfast in his attempt to thwart any assistance given by his mother, his mother remained steadfast in breaking down that wall. Hence forth two circles that once were nothing more than an equal equation in a math problem became the nucleus for an excuse. By acting as though we had stained his little eyes, burned an unwanted image into his brain, leaving him to die upon the sword of our humor amidst an assumed embarrassment. He believed homework time would be over, a byproduct of our apologies for such inappropriate behavior on our parts. Crying at the table, head in our hands, relished to failure as parents for our poor lack of judgment, he could leave the table thusly going about his evening bypassing another painful night of math while feeling as though he finally got the upper hand!

Hmmmm in retrospect, quick thinking young grasshopper! I am impressed at how fast you grabbed ahold of an opportunity to exploit a situation hoping for instant benefit and gratification… In many instances this quick thinking may have brought forward a prosperous outcome. This would not be one of them!

BOOBS, BOOBS, BOOBS (+)(+) Do you see them???? BOOBS, BOOBS, BOOBS!!!!!

Now do your damn homework!

 

 

Every minute of every second of every day…….

theycallmebetty5 Comments

 

I have not written in a while and for that I apologize. Today while thinking about my children, watching the news and looking into the eyes of some of our youth. This came to me. I don’t know what it means, but once I started typing I could not stop.

Every minute of every second of every day, we grow older. Life moves before us at an astonishing rate, faster than our minds are able to fully comprehend. In reality we stand frozen facing the hourglass of life, witnessing what appears as agonizing seconds, thunderous ticking of a tock, movement that seems to stand still as life revolves at a pace that is not to our liking and yet we breathe.

Breathing an absurdity that is our arrogance. For as we breathe we continue to expire and yet no reality of decay meets comprehension. It is within our egotistic nature to face the hands of time and laugh. Laugh through our young mouths as we expire, laugh with our condescending young minds as we inhale, laugh and laugh some more, for we fear not what may lay ahead when youth is our only guide. We fear not what lies ahead when youth is our only means, we fear not what lies ahead for we have never known otherwise.

Every minute of every second of every day we are older, we are wiser, and once age has gripped us tightly we slowly become irrelevant. The youth of this world hears not what we say, they hear not what we have to offer, and they fear not the repercussion of blind foolishness. Though we have learned through experience, though we know from pain, though we still struggle with suffering, we have mentally surrendered to the tick tock, we stand brave faced into the hands of time ignoring what we could never have known and yet we are to be considered by youthful brigades as obsolete.

Breathing in we struggle with ignorance of youth along with an hypocrisy that is born of our own. For through inspiration knowledge falls away, sloughing from the skin of an aged arm, what little remains unused, thrown to the wind by the deafness of youth. Exhalation of life reveals that our future is of our own making; its remnants left from advice unheard throughout our journey of youth. Elders ignored, a blind eye turned to the very history we were scorned for not abiding.

The world, our future, our children’s future can never be realized until the hand of youth joins with the strength of age. Youthful creativity meeting elderly knowledge, young love and passion mixed with aged temperance, wide-eyed exuberance with sometimes narrow but skilled guidance. One melded with another, not two separate living beings fighting for space and time to no real conclusion.

Every minute of every second of every day we grow older, and unless we understand a world will always turn, a day will turn to-night and then to-day again and soon what came from nothing will return to nothing. There will never be a unified progression.

We all leave this world with only what we chose to share.

I choose to share love, wisdom, peace and tolerance for all. Some days are harder than others, the fight for tolerance on all levels is tough, but I have been guided by many great people who imparted wisdom that remains heard though they are gone. Hopefully my children or the youth, will understand, listen and realize that one day they too will be older, they must share, understand and guide others.

For every minute of every second of every day will soon be over.

What else do I have to leave behind, what else do we all have to leave behind but love?

 

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