You are Important

Years ago I read a quote and unfortunately I don't remember who originally said it.  It sounds like something Eleanor Roosevelt would have said but don't know for sure.  "There is no unimportant work."  Short and sweet but is says oh so much.  Each and every one of us are important.  Someone out there is depending upon us.

What do you do for a living?  Flip hamburgers?   Doesn't seem very important?  Take time to think about it.  Someone is depending on you to cook their meal to nourish their body giving them the strength to do their job.  Are you a handyman, housewife, janitor, garbage collector, baker's assistant, clerk, chief bottle washer, doctor, lawyer, Indian chief?  What ever you do for a living, your job is no less important than that of your boss.  The head honcho can't do it without you. 

I hear people say they wouldn't do some jobs; it is beneath them.  We are all equal and we all serve one another.  Some just get paid more than others but that does not mean their job is not important.  Whatever it is you do, do it with pride and excellence.  Remember someone is depending upon you.  You are important.

Mission Possible

Your mission today if you choose to accept it is to be true to yourself.  Boldly move where you have never gone before - move beyond your insecurities to become the confident courageous person you were meant to be.  Accept your own power as an individual.  You deserve it.

Good luck on your mission.

This message will not self-destruct in ten seconds.

(Thank you to Rich Proctor.  I first read this on his blog and then changed it to fit my mission.)

Camping Weekend

I was really looking forward to this past weekend.  Darrell and I were finally going camping in his new camper.

                                                  AGENDA
           1:00 Darrell gets off work
           1:15 Jump in truck pulling camper and head for Rend Lake
           3:30 more or less: Arrive at Gun Creek Campgrounds
           4:30 Start campfire and cook wienies
           6:30 Watch sunset on lake
           7:00 Watch old movies in camper
           11:00 Bedtime
                                      Next Day
           10:00 Eat breakfast
           11:00 Hike around campground
           1:00 Go to Art and Wine Festival
           1:15 Drink wine and view art
           2:00 Drink wine and talk about the art
           3:00 Drink more wine and view more art exhibits
           4:00 Drink more wine and eat BBQ
           5:00 Drink more wine
           6:00 Art and Wine Festival ends. 
           6:15 Go back to campground and sit around campfire.
           6:30 Watch sunset
           7:00 Sit around campfire eating some mores
           8:00 Still staring at campfire.  Too much wine
           9:00 Watch old movies
           11:00 Bedtime
    Head home early next morning for funeral of friend.

The best laid plans are often spoiled and so it was with ours.  Saturday went pretty well as planned but around midnight it started raining.  It rained for 22 straight hours. I was beginning to look out the camper window for Noah, thinking the second great flood had arrived.

Obviously the Art and Wine Festival was rained out.  As I reflect back on this weekend I am struck with a profound thought.  I have fought getting old with a passion and yet I realize there is no way around it unless I am ready for an early grave.  I'm not.  I love my life.  Here is one of the wondrous things about this age: I am able to appreciate the experiences whereas I was unable to in my youth.  I understand why a common saying is that youth is wasted on the young.  I was so busy running around like a chicken with its head off that I didn't take the time to savor the beauty that surrounded me.

This weekend I witnessed the most breath taking sunset I have ever seen in my 61 years.  Yes it is possible that I saw a prettier sunset sometime during my life but I don't remember it.  This one I will always remember.

Darrell and I stood on the shore of Rend Lake quietly watching as the large reddish orange sun slowly sank behind the trees lining the circumference of the lake.  The clouds just above the sinking globe of fire looked like snow covered mountain tops and the sun was reflecting on the smooth lake.

Rather than staying in the dry camper the next day bemoaning the fact that our plans were ruined by Mother Nature we ventured out to see what adventures we could find.  Yes we did find some fun adventures.  First we checked out the remaining soggy tents at the Art and Wine Festival.  Happily we found a small handful of vendors braving the weather.  We drank wine and walked around the wet grounds talking to the artisans about their arts.  It was a very relaxed atmosphere.  If we had been there the day before we would have been pushing our way through a crowd of people vying for a view of the art.  Okay, we missed most of the exhibits but it really didn't matter and the vendors were happy to see us.

We then drove to Mt. Vernon for lunch, a movie or some shopping. We had lunch but never found a movie house and no new stores to shop.  We found something better.  We drove past an industrial park in search of something to do.  Suddenly we saw two large does and a fawn walking near the road.  They stopped and watched us for a couple of minutes, not appearing to be one bit afraid of us.  They took us in as if we were animals at the zoo and they were amazed at how different we were from other such animals they had seen.  Finally they tired of staring at us and returned to their home in the small patch of woods adjoining the industrial park.

In my youth I would have been much too busy, too wrapped up in my petty problems to enjoy the beauty I witnessed this weekend.  I am now realizing that one of the most crucial practices in the quest for a satisfying life is seeking out beauty and making the time to savor it.  I had to get old to finally realize this fact.
          

The Balloon Glow

Last week Darrell and I, hand in hand, broke the rules and it felt so good.  It was such a little thing and if Darrell hadn't suggested it first I would not have crossed the line; but he did and I did.  As I have mentioned before I am a rule follower, yet hidden deep in my psyche there is a rebel who is screaming to get out and break some rules.  Not all rules mind you, because I truly believe rules are good.

Darrell took me to Forest Park in St. Louis to witness the Balloon Glow.  I didn't know what a balloon glow was but I knew it had something to do with the 70 hot air balloons that were scheduled to race the next day.  I soon realized it must really be a big deal because there were thousands of people milling around us waiting for the show.  Most of the people had brought lawn chairs and blankets and a couple had set up tents, all behind a chalk line drawn on the ground to mark off the area between the balloons and the spectators. 

Now I am no dummy, I knew that white chalk line was put there for a reason but when the owners of the balloons started inflating them and Darrell suggested we get a closer look, I jumped right over the line as if it didn't exist.  The balloons got bigger and bigger and my excitement level just kept raising with them.  We counted 36 hot air balloons all around us.  Once the balloons were completely inflated a horn blasted the signal for the glow.  There was a loud whooshing sound as the balloon burners ignited and large blue, yellow, white flames licked the inside of the balloons to create a surreal and beautiful sight against the dark sky.

Yes, I could have seen the balloon glow standing safely behind the white chalk line but I would not have felt the same sensation of exhilaration sitting quietly behind the lines as I felt standing amongst the giant monsters and feeling the heat of the flames bursting from their hearts.  Damn it felt good to break the rules.  I felt so alive and even a little bit bad.

Who's to Blame?

I have written in a journal for years.  Most of the journals have been tossed so that no one could read them and laugh at my childish dreams and unfulfilled goals. 

I was reading through some old journal entries that still remain and noticed a disturbing pattern.  Over and over, year after year I wrote about how I had gotten in a rut and it was time to dig myself out of that deep hole.  Another interesting fact kept showing up that disturbed me even more.  I was good at blaming others in my life for not successfully digging out of that hole.

Who is really to blame if my life is not what I want it to be???

God?
Obahma?
Democrats?
Rich people? Poor People?
Christians? Muslins?
Fate?
Circumstances?
Money or lack of?

No, just little ol' me.  How could I be so foolish as to blame someone else?  The easy way out, I guess.

"You must take personal responsibility.  You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself.  That is something you have charge of."  Jim Rohn

You can't have an interesting life sitting on the couch watching television or reading books.  The best times involve getting outside your comfort zone and doing something difficult or connecting with someone.  Life can be so exhilarating but it is all up to me.  I just have to get out of this tight confiding cocoon and spread my wings.  Try stuff I wouldn't normally do.  Fun can turn up in unexpected places and I am going to find it.

As Ferris Bueller said "Life moves pretty fast.  If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it." 

I am not a Monster

I love quotes, especially ones that make you think.  I just read this one today by Karen Maezen Miller.  "Every conflict is fought in self-defense.  So when you're having a disagreement, ask yourself what you're defending."

Last night someone said something to me that hurt me and made me mad at the same time.  I am going to do a little ranting right here and now and then it is over.  I do not believe in holding a grudge, revenge, belittling others, etc.  In fact I try to stay out of other people's business.  What am I defending?  I am defending my right to live my life with whoever I choose and when I choose.  If I choose to live alone, that is my right, no one else.

I have enough issues of my own so here goes:

I am not a monster!

I have no need to break an old man's heart!

I am not mean!

I have the right to find someone who sweeps me off my feet just like he does. 

Only I have walked in my shoes.  No one else carries the scars and heartaches I carry.

I have only one desire, to live out the rest of my life in love and harmony with all and that includes with my accusers.  Life is much too short to live any other way.  Trust me, I have seen a lot of sadness and hardships and refuse to succumb to remarks made by others.  I will live my life as best fits me.  Stay out of my business.

Now go and have a good life.  I am going to.

Lil' Mary Margaret

I have a pretty amazing little sister.  I don't think she really knows how amazing she really is.  I'm talking about Lil' Mary Margaret, number 5 of the 6 Reese children.  Mary could have been a child actress or model.  She was a beautiful curly headed blond with big blue eyes and perfect white skin.

Somewhere along her growing up years she had her self-esteem pretty badly beaten up and ended up marrying a good for nothing drunk, a likable drunk but worthless just the same.  She gave him three beautiful little girls and he gave her nothing but heartaches.  I would go into more detail but I don't think she wants the world to know how really rotten he was.

Needless to say when the baby was still a toddler she left him.  Fortunately she met and married a good man who took the girls in as his own.  No, that's not the end of the story, only the beginning. 

Mary was determined to never put herself in a position where another human being had complete control over her.  She worked at night and put herself through nursing school.  She read a life changing book and became a vegetarian.  (I tried but found it much too difficult.)  She felt she needed spirituality in her life but could not relate to Christianity so she studied Wicca.  She is now a solitary Wiccan.  (Before anyone jumps to conclusions I want you to know this is not Satan worship, merely the old pagan beliefs practiced before Christianity.  When she first started practicing Wiccan rituals I was concerned so I did some studying of my own.  I wish our Christian friends could say their history was as pure as the Wiccan history.  Christians have killed Wiccans but never the other way around.) 

Mary is now a petite sassy 50 year young woman with extremely short platinum blond hair with pink highlights.  She is the head nurse for the CEO of the medical clinic where she works.  She works two jobs so she doesn't have much personal time and yet she always seems to be found wherever the action is.  As you may have guessed, Mary was the sister who took me skydiving.  Blessed be.

The picture is of my sister Mary and myself at a Halloween party years ago.  She was Harpo Marks.

Procrastination is the Name of the Game

Procrastination is my enemy.  I know it but I keep inviting him in as if he were my closest friend.  I think I do it out of fear; fear that I am not smart enough, experienced enough, talented enough, liked enough or just good enough in general.  I am a master at excuses.

Time after time I find my back up against the wall forced to rush through something or not doing something at all because of these petty little fears.  My mile long to-do list consists mostly of projects I have started and then got scared that I was not capable of doing this project properly and stopped.  I usually blame my lack of ability to complete a project to my ADHD but since I have struggled with this since I was a child, I have gotten pretty good at keeping it (almost, not completely) under control.

Presently Illinois Internal Revenue is on my back.  I have always done my tax returns myself.  This year I decided to use Turbo Tax and of course I waited until the last minute.  I had a hell of a time with some of the questions it asked but finally completed it by the due date.  I checked answers on the computer but not on the forms themselves.  Big mistake. 

Three weeks ago Illinois sent me a statement saying my return was wrong and I owe them an additional $346.  Damn!  I dug my copies out and I couldn't believe some of the numbers on the form.  Why hadn't I looked it over better before mailing it?  Turbo Tax is suppose to be the expert, not me, so why should I?  Now I am going to have to check the numbers on my IRS tax return and completely redo my Illinois form.

As I said, I have had this info for three weeks.  Guess I had better stop procrastinating and get to work.

Sailor Clyde

My father once had a friend by the name of Clyde.  Clyde was a retired sailor who like many old timers liked to sit around and tell tales about his many adventures.  The following poem is rather lengthy.  It is actually three poems Dad wrote at different times about his friend Sailor Clyde.

SAILOR CLYDE by Roger W. Reese

There was an old sailor named Clyde,
Whose skin was all wrinkled and dried.

His legs were crooked and bowed.
His pants looked like they carried a load.

They couldn't get him afloat
His ass wouldn't fit in the boat.

I laughed so hard that I cried
If I'd have laughed any harder I'd have died.

This old sailor named Clyde,
Was full of bluster and pride.

Yes, sir! He was some "tom cat",
Or at least he thought that.

You could see the girls all snicker,
He could have too if he were quicker

He's no fancy tom cat,
Just a hairy old bat at that.

Boots the cat with Sailor Clyde,
Fishing they sat there side by side.

After a while Clyde began to dose,
With the fishing line tied to his toe.

In the water the bobber did bobble,
The line jerked and his toes did wobble.

Boots hopped to the line and gave it a haul,
But he fell in the water and let out a squall.

Clyde was startled by it all,
And in the water he did fall.

As you guess, Clyde was wet
And madder yet at his pet.

More about this old sailor named Clyde
He thought he'd find a bicycle to ride.

But first he would have a beer,
Just to help him over his fear.

One beer and several more, shook him to his core,
He thought he had need no more.

Staggering to the bicycle outside,
He needed help to get astride
Wobbling and reeling he fell on his side.

One leg was caught in the wheel,
The other he couldn't feel
This was one heck of a deal.

"A bicycle I will never ride,
It's safer in a boat to glide"
Said this old sailor named Clyde.

The snow fell all around old sailor Clyde,
So over the snow he thought he would slide.

He stumbled out to his old shed,
And finally found his boyhood sled.

He was covered with fur all skin and hair
Which made him look like a big clumsy bear.

Huffing and puffing he trudged to the top of the hill,
Now he was ready to repeat the thrill.

Climbing astride that old sled,
Had he known the future he would have stayed in bed.

At first his progress was somewhat slow.
But soon he was speeding across the snow.

The trees were whizzing bye - he was on a roll
Get out of the way he screamed as he lost control.

Now he was ripping down old route thirty-six
He thought to himself, "I'm in a heck of a fix."

Trucks and cars wee heading for the ditch
Tires and horns were screaming at a terrible pitch.

Poor old sailor Clyde had shut his eyes,
Feeling bad for he had not said his Good-Byes.

OH! OH! Here comes the river,
The very thought made him shiver.

He hit the water with a great big splat.
And out he popped like an old wet rat.

Old sailor Clyde has experienced many a tale,
But this is the one, the very thought, turns him pale.

Dad actually has written much better poetry but he likes this best because it is about an old friend who is no longer with us.  My father is now 85 and sadly, most of his friends are gone.  He misses them.

Rule No. 1. RESPONSIBILTY

My parents were wonderful nurturing parents with lots of rules that they insisted their children follow.  Five of their six children were pretty good at following the rules, with only an occasional misdemeanor to disrupt the household.  By the time Baby came along my mother, the master of the house, was very ill and no longer had the endurance to keep a heavy hand on Baby Dearest.

One of the rules we learned at an early age was each of us was responsible for our own actions and our lives.  From this rule we learned to be totally independent, do everything ourselves, not to need anybody. 

In the last couple of years I have been discovering the error in this type of thinking.  In the film classic, Funny Girl, Barbra Streisand sings "People who need people are the luckiest people in the world."  Bob Merrill just may have hit on something when he wrote this song.

Two years ago when Les passed away I moved into my little dilapidated house determined to fix it up and make it livable once again.  Yes, I could have done it over time by myself but truthfully my state of mind was really dark back then and without the help of my friends and family who knows how long it would have taken me to turn the little house into my Magic Cottage.

I still have that old mind set thinking I must prove to the world that I am strong and can live alone. 

Who do I think I am fooling?  I do not want to be a bother to people but I realize how lucky I am to have wonderful people in my life; people who want to be a part of my life,not just the good times but also the bad and who want to help make my life more comfortable. 

I am also realizing that people really do need people.  When we ask someone to help us it gives them a reason to feel good about themselves.  Basically people are good and generous.  They take great pleasure in doing for others.  I had it all wrong.  I was not taking advantage of friends and family.  Rather I was taking from them an opportunity to feel needed which gives them a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

My grandfather died a broken man.  Why, because he felt he was no longer needed.  He felt he was simply a burden on others, a waste of space.  My father is beginning to see himself that way.  It is important that I encourage him to tell his stories, to visit his friends and to participate as a veteran in parades and at other veterans funerals..

So I am now looking at the word "responsibility" differently than I ever have in my life.  My responsibility is not just to myself, it is to others.  I am not a believer of the Welfare System.  I still believe we all must be responsible for ourselves but we are in this mess together.  Together is the key word here.  Together with love all things are possible.

Second Half of Day 1, Slaying Dragon Sloth

Maybe I was a little too ambitious for the first day.  I have a tendency to run into battle with guns a blazing first day out and then fall flat on my face. 

Just to let you know, I didn't fall flat on my face but I also did not conquer the dragon on the first day.  Good think I have been allotted 30 days to become Queen of the Hill.

This is how the battle began:

I left my house with spirits soaring in jogging shorts and tennies on my way to the dragon's lair a couple of miles away.  Half way there I realized I had not quenched my thirst since I got out of bed this morning and was in the process of getting a dehydrated headache.  Fortunately I had brought along a bottle of water.  After quickly consuming it I felt much better and continued on my quest, but by that time I no longer felt the zest for victory and decided to shorten the trip a bit.  I had carried with me a bag of my recycling ephemera that I planned to dispose of at Schnucks on my way so I continued in that direction.  Dumped the trash and went in to Schnucks to purchase milk then headed back home.

Since I was no longer walking near the distance I had originally planned I decided to take the long way home.  I zig zagged through the old neighborhood I had grown up around.  I paused a moment in front of Gail's parent's home long enough to remember the first time Sue and I went there.  We were walking home from our first day of high school and somehow missed our turn.  We were lost (which was nothing unusual for Sue and I then nor now).  We happened upon Gail sitting out on the front porch with her mother.  Gail's mother was such a dear; she gave us something to drink, called our mother to explain where we were and then took us home.  Next I ventured toward Mrs. Firner's house, one of my English teachers in junior high school and then in later years a dear friend.  She has been gone many years but I still think of her fondly.

I finally arrived home and went straight to my computer to document my semi-failure.  This just wasn't to be my day, or so it seemed.  Now my Internet was down.  Oh bother!  I was determined to get the momentum going and sat down to follow the lessons Corky had taught me for getting my computer up and running again.  It didn't work at once but as you can tell, it finally worked.  Thank you once again, Corky, my computer genius.

I spent the next hour proving to myself that I was not a sloth.  I worked on my yard collecting enough yard waste to almost fill my little truck.  The day is not over and I am feeling pretty good about my abilities to slay that dragon Sloth.  Tonight I plan to make a list of 30 ( make that 29) ways to slay the dragon.  Monster you have met your match in this Faire Maiden Louise!  You will learn to bow to me in the future.

The Dragon Sloth must be Slain

I have been in a funky mood lately.  No, I'm not depressed.  I think I am simply bored which is difficult to explain since I have something going most every day and every weekend hour is taken up with some activity.  No, this is a Louise problem that only Louise can handle.

My charmed life may be the problem.  I've had it way too easy for the last few months and have become complacent. 

I have been following a blog by Rich Proctor, Lionhearted for the last few weeks.  He calls the enemy Sloth, one of the 7 Deadly Sins. (Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed and Sloth.)  "He will steal your dreams and goals and desires.  If he's not stopped, he will slowly spread his tentacles throughout your entire life until your ambition and potential has been completely choked off.  Total devastation is his goal." 

Sir Lionhearted's call to action is a 30-day challenge in which he plans to take small measurable action each and every day of the month in an area of his life that he has become dissatisfied with.  And as all good bloggers do, he has invited his readers to join him in his 30-day challenge.

OK Richard the Lionhearted, the Faire Maiden, Louise accepts your challenge.  To prove my worth I have decided to begin this quest to demolish the monster Sloth by walking bravely with my head held high from my house to the dungeons of Club Fitness where I will joist with the monstrous exercise machines hidden deep inside the dreary walls of the dungeon.  I realize this quest is far more dangerous than any I have endeavored lately, but I must prove my heart is pure and worthy. 

Gentle People, I beg for your prayers as I forge forward into the dangerous lair of the dragon named Sloth.  All those with like mind are invited to join me.

My Baby Boy's Whiskers

It saddens me to think of my son and his father's bitterness towards one another.  I pray that as the years pass by son will have time to reflect on the good times he spent with his father and be able to find some peace.  Regrettably his father passed away without reconciliation with his son.

Scotty and his father had not always been at odds.  There was a time when they played happily together.  It was such a joy just to watch them interact with one another.  One day when Scott was a curious three year old explorer while visiting his Grandma and Grandpa Reese he fell and cut open his little chin requiring stitches.  I stayed home with baby sister while father and son went to the ER.  I'll never forget how proud my husband was of his "big boy".  He bragged about Scotty's bravery and how he never cried as the doctor gently stitched up his little chin.  Several days later Scotty and I visited the family doctor to have the stitches removed.  Wow, how the situation changed.  Even though the doctor insisted there would be no pain Scotty cried and kept his little hands tightly cupped around his chin so that the doctor could not remove the stitches.  After some time the doctor wisely asked the terribly upset little fellow what was wrong.  It turned out Scotty was proud of his stitches.  He thought he had whiskers just like his daddy and wanted to keep them.  The doctor asked Scotty if Daddy shaved every morning?  He slowly nodded agreement.  She then asked if he would allow her to shave him.  Then it was all right and he calmly let the doctor remove the stitches.

Those were precious and wonderful days.  My husband and I had very little in the way of material possessions but what we did have was two beautiful toddlers who loved us and we loved them.

Surfing the Net

Fall is such a lovely time of year to savor the cool crisp air and colorful tree leaves changing from green to a kaleidoscope of yellows, reds and oranges.  I look forward to the beauty fall offers but not to the mold count rising from 9,000 to 49,000.  As the mold count rises my throat becomes raw, my eyes water and my nose runs like a faucet turned on full blast.  This situation usually begins late September, early October but not this year.  I am already miserable.

Feeling as I do, I find it difficult to stay active, but since my new mantra is "Life is Short" I have managed to keep busy.  Most of the "busy time" has been surfing the Internet.  I love checking out people's blogs; reading about their dreams, adventures, heartaches, fears, ambition or lack of and their passions. 

For years I didn't think I was liked -- no more than that, I thought I was such a bore people did not want to be around me, fearing I would bore them to death with my hum drum mundane prattle.  I  now realize how very wrong I was and hate all the time I wasted hiding behind my fears of not being accepted.  It wasn't that I was boring and terribly ordinary; I bored myself because I was only around myself all the time.  Those people I feared would snub me were so involved with themselves that they probably wouldn't have noticed me anyway no matter what I said or did or they just wanted someone to listen to their stories.  Now that I have stepped out of my comfort zone and I meet people, I find that what most people want is to be recognized.  They want someone to listen to their stories.  Guess what?  It is so much fun listening to other people's stories.  Then I have a blast turning around and telling them my stories.

People are awesome and all their stories are so inspiring no matter what the subject matter.  Check out the blogs on line and you'll see.  There are stories of ambition, greed, love lost and found, instructions to do just about everything and wondrous places to travel.  Thousands and thousands of stories and each one different in one way or another.  So many stories and so little time.  Happy surfing!

Sappy Saturday Stories - The Good Doctor's Bones

As I was growing up both of my parents told my siblings and I stories.  Dad was a great story teller of imaginative animals talking to him and Mom told stories about her family.  Now that my father is approaching his final days his stories have gotten more serious but still he enoys stretching the truth a bit.

The following story is one of my mother's favorites.  I have heard it many times.  Before my mother passed away she wrote down some of her family stories.  This is in her words and may sound crazy but is quite true.  I wish I knew in what year this occurred.  My mother was born in 1927 and I know it was long before she was born.

                                                  The Good Doctor's Bones

I don't think that one of the Barnes family ever paid a doctor for a house or office call.  They did chores for the doctor like raking the yard, sweeping out the office, cared for the horse and at night drove him on his rounds.  In that way he was paid his medical bills, you know, you scratch my back and I'll scratch your's.

Now the good doctor wasn't too well-to-do and he wanted a skeleton for his office.  He wrote letters, looked at catalogs and deligently shopped for a good cheap skeleton.  In those days the sign of a good doctor was a skeleton hanging in the corner of the waiting room.  My, how that man wanted a skeleton.  He worried and stewed about the lack of one until he was almost as sick as his patients.

Finally he hit upon an ingenius scheme to redecorate his office -- he would have a skeleton.  Again he wrote to St. Louis and awaited anxiously for an answer.  He took no one into his confidence, this had to be on the Q.T. to get the effect he wanted.  The people of Pleasant Hill were going to be so proud of their doctor's office -- just like a big city slicker's.

One night when all was quiet, dark and peaceful an old car backed into the yard at Poddy and Jake's.  They backed right up to the barn door.  Like a couple of bumbling thieves Jake and Poddy came stealing out of the cabin lean-to where they slept, and joined the driver of the car.  There was low laughter, plenty of foul language and the three staggered into the barn carrying a well wrapped package.  They all three stood beside the car for a few minutes, a bottle was passed, they had a snort or two, then the car was driven away.  Jake and Poddy went back up the walkway, into the lean-to and back to bed.

The next morning the town awoke and had a surprise--Jake and Poddy were already up and at it.  They were at their wood pile splitting wood and laughing and joking like they had good sense.  Now if it had been winter everyone would have known what was going on but this was late spring.  Jake would have liked to stop and talk to everyone walking by but Poddy kept him at the chore.

That afternoon a young man noticed smoke coming out of the chimney at the barn.  Jake and Poddy only used that when they were butchering.  Butchering was done in winter not late spring; what in the world were those two old men up to?  Everyone in Pleasant Hill kept a look out for Jake and Poddy, they didn't take care of themselves, the townspeople were their self-appointed guardians.  Up the hill went the young man, curious?  Yes, but he'd help if help was needed.

When he was near the barn he noticed a foul odor and Jake, of the weak stomach, was behind the barn heaving his socks.  He peeked into the barn and there was bandy-legged Poddy, pitchfork in hand, standing over the tub used to scald hogs.  Every so often he'd say, "Get back in there you old son-of-a-bitch!!" and push something back into the tub with his pitchfork.  The young man stepped closer and dear God in heaven, the Barnes had done it again.

There in the scalding tub was a little old man with wisps of red hair standing straight up all over his head, watery pale blue eyes stared into space and chin whiskers bristled indignatly!  Our young man decided it was best if he joined Jake behind the barn--in a hurry.

After relieving himself of his lunch he ask Jake,"What have you two old fools done now?"  "Well," answered Jake, "Doc wanted a skeleton!"  Now everyone knew how Jake and Poddy loved the old doctor but this was carrying that love a little too far.  MURDER!!!  "No, no", Jake said.  He was sure he and Poddy were not involved in any murder, they weren't that kind of Barnes.  The two of them went back into the barn where Poddy was still at work, they had to stop on the way so that Jake could get another armload of wood.  The old man was a tough old bird and took lots of boiling.

The good doctor had come upon the idea of buying an old derelic from the St. Louis Morgue and using it for a skeleton.  He couldn't quite figure out how to handle the job but he knew two men that could.  He called Jake and Poddy into his office and put the question before them.  Later the two came back and explained the whole procedure.  It sounded logical to him so another letter was sent to St. Louis telling them to notify him immediately of any unclaimed bodies.  He needed one for medical purposes.

Jake and Poddy explained this to the young man.  Jake stirring the vat now while Poddy grabbed a bite to eat.  Uncle Jake wasn't hungry!

Later, when all the meat was picked off the bones, our two family scientists took them to the good doctor.  They were firmly wired together and strung up -- why Pleasant Hill had as fancy a doctor's office as any city slicker's.  I use to wonder why Uncle Jake would always ask the doctor, "How's the man holding up?"  --- Now I know.

A wandering I Go

"Next to resistance, rational thought is the artist or entrepreneurs worst enemy.  Bad things happen when we employ rational thought, because rational thought comes from the ego.  Instead, we want to work from the Self, that is, from instinct and intuition, from the unconscious.

A child has no trouble believing, nor does the genius or the madman.  It's only you and I, with our big brains and our tiny hearts, who doubt and over think and hesitate."  Steven Pressfield, Do the Work

For quite some time now I have had an acute case of wanderlust.  I read this quote on the net and the symptoms worsened - a desire to buy a GPS, read all the travel magazines, get out my Atlas and work up a route around the United States. 

As usual I got realistic again.  Dang it!  Why did my father have to pound that word "responsibility" into my head so hard?  Getting "real" often means putting your dreams on hold.  But why now that I am single and unemployed?  All the reasons are echoing in my head - a woman alone, what if the car broke down, you got lost (as you have a habit of doing), you don't have the money to squander, and of course the number one reason WHY, WHAT IS OUT THERE TO SEE?  I was talking to a friend about my desire to go on a road trip following the Mississppi River to the Gulf of Mexico, stopping at the little towns along the way.  That was what he said.  "Why, what is out there to see?"  That's what I want to know.  I want to see how people live in these quaint little river towns that have been there since the early American explorers trapped beaver along the river.  I want to talk with them and hear stories about their dreams.

This is one dream that has been dancing around in my head like sugar plums for years.  I don't think I can resist much longer.  The temptation to run away without telling a soul is so strong I can taste it and it tastes like sweet chocolate, like the flight of the eagle, like sweet freedom.  I realize I have obligations to fulfill but when that is done I will have a plan and will fly by night when no one is watching.  Perhaps I'll start heading south to visit friends I haven't seen in years or perhaps I'll head east.  I have seen some of the west, but have never had the opportunity to visit the east.  I am so excited about my plan that I feel like a giddy school girl with her first love.

A wandering I go, a wandering I go, Hi Ho a darry O a wandering I go!