Ties that bind

I am 51 years old.  My niece Christine is 42.  We've known of each other all our lives,but until a week ago we did not really know each other at all.   This week Christine became my friend. Her family became my family, not just in name, but in the heart. 

Today I am so happy and so sad at the same time. They hopped a plane home today and I do not know when I will see them again.  That is sad.  I miss them already. I want to know them better.   But I am so grateful too... grateful, happy and proud. I'm grateful that they chose to visit and give me this opportunity to know them.   I am so happy that we have "discovered" each other and that this is just the beginning of our times together.  I am proud to be related to this family that is so beautiful, loving and strong. They are a family I am proud to be an auntie to.

How did all this finally come about?  It's funny, but, thank you Facebook. Without you, I doubt we would have made this connection.   A connection that will hopefully lead to future fun times together.

Sad at the loss of a friend.

My friend Kathie died on Friday.  A friend calls on Saturday to tell me this news. What? Kathie? Heart attack? How is she? "She didn't make it. " Those words. "She didn't make it". What do you mean she didn't make it? That's impossible. This just can't be. Shock. Anger. She is too young. It is true though. She didn't make it.

It is impossible to imagine that this is true.  That she is gone.  That I will not be able to call her the next time I need to hear her wise counsel.  That her distinct laugh is no longer to be heard.  She wasn't sick that we knew of.  She was only 47 years old.  She was happy and starting a new adventure in her life.  She had so much going on and was living life to the max.  She woke up on Friday morning not feeling well and by nightfall she was gone.

Sadness.  No words can express the sadness. The oddness. The sense of loss.  How can this be?  What are we supposed to feel?  How are we supposed to act?    It seems too unreal.  Too impossible.  Numbness.  I wish I'd spoken to her more recently.  I still have things to tell her, times to share, plans to fulfill. 

Kathie loves Brad.  Brad loves Kathie.  What can I say to him to help his hurt?  How can I face the pain that he is feeling knowing that nothing I can say or do can help?  I can not make it go away.  We are all helpless.  How could I possibly be strong when I do not know if I could endure what he is enduring.  Why am I so afraid to face his pain?   Again, I do not understand myself why I feel the way I do.  I hate this.  I hate my weakness.  I am human and I am flawed. I will do what I must do come to my own terms with the sad reality that Kathie is gone...., and of my own inability to deal with it.


My friend Kathie died, before her time, on Friday, July 2nd, 2010.    There is nothing I can do.  It is true.

Post note to self:
We must all move forward.  It is so true that everyday is a gift, precious.  We must live each one fully for we do not know that there will be another.  Tell people you love them often.  Do the things you dream of doing.  Live.

american chocolate

I have to laugh at this memory.  And, I don't want to lose it.  So even though it is a short tale, I'm going to put it in here.

It was 1967 or 1968.  We were living in Seoul , Korea.  Our house was "in town", a walled house with a front courtyard that faced one of the big 'nightlife' streets.  Out the back gate was an alley way down to the black market.  (That year in Korea was an interesting year).

Anyway, we had a maid that year.  Connie.  She was 17.  She was bubbly and big eyed, eager to learn English, fascinated with our family, funny and fun loving.  She and Mom were close and Connie went everywhere with us.  Late in the evenings, (since Dad was always gone during the work week), Connie and Mom would peer over the front wall to watch the comings and goings at the night clubs.  (I was too young to find this entertaining then but I can see that it must have been very entertaining for them ) . LOL. 

As Mom used to tell the story, she and Connie were spying on the nightclub one night when out the club door comes a handsome, very tall, very black,  soldier.  He must have been pretty impressive because Connie was all excited and turned to Mom and asked - "oh Mawmi... what is that?  what is that?".  My Mom, probably with a very straight and serious face replied  - " oh Connie... that is American Chocolate".    From then on, anytime we say a handsome black military man, he was American Chocolate.

We left Korea after only 10 months there.  We never heard anything about Connie again, even though Mom tried to stay in touch (Mom had wanted to adopt her). :).  But... in my mind, I imagine that eventually Connie wound up with an American Chocolate of her own.  Wherever she is, I hope her life has been a good one.

Memorial Day

Soldier. Today I stop and think of you, thank you for all you've done. 
You've lost your life fighting for our freedom.
You and your brothers and sisters in battle did not come home.
You did not see your children grow.
Your life was cut short, because of intolerance, stupidity.
If it were not for your bravery and the bravery of your comrades,
where would we be?  Where would we be?
We would not be free.
Thank  you for all you've done.  Thank you for giving all.

A new kitten committment

Well.   Sometimes in life you make committments without realizing what you are getting yourself into.

First, I already have a cat.  My cat Scooter is at least 15 years old.  I got her from my niece Amber when she was living in Seattle.  Amber got her one day while walking out of a super store and someone was giving away kittens.  Scoots was so cute, and so small, and purred .. and was playful.  (Kitten tricks designed to find them good homes). :)   .... Amber brought her home, but within a few months realized that she could not keep a cat (it was against her rental policy)... so, I got Scooter.  Scooter has lived with us on a 5 acre piece of land in Redmond , WA, where she was known as BK (short for Bunny Killer)... and was famous for leaving dead animal body parts (all be it small ones) at our doorstep.  Scooter has live with us on a 50 foot boat, where she was famous for midnight raids on other boaters.   Scooter has traveled down the west coast, accross the country, and through the air.  She now lives on a tropical island and no longer has time to do the things a cat is supposed to do (like chase mice)... she spends most of her time lying under a fern frond, or in a lounge chair.  Like most cats, she lets us know when she expects something from us, and like most cat owners... we oblige.  She no longer has to purr and be playful, act silly, or hunt bravely in order to assure her daily Whiskas... she has it made.  She haughtily rules the house...Or.. at least she did.

Enter Loki.  Loki's arrival on the scene is kinda like the beginnings of a joke.  "I was sitting at a bar one night"... literally.  I was sitting at The Palms bar last Tuesday and saw our friend Barbara.  She was all excited as she had found a kitten and was looking for someone to take it home.  Guess who did.   Yep.  Loki came home with me.  Now I've been thinking of getting a kitten , a couple actually, for some time.  We live on a lot of land in the tropics and there are bugs and critters.  Our neighbors used to have a couple of cats that were great hunters but they have moved away and I think a couple of kittys on patrol might be a good thing.

Scooter hates him.  She can't stop hissing and pitching a fit.  Speedbump does not understand why I'm laughing and loving at something other than him.  Riot is confused.  The order of the pets has been disrupted.  And... what exactly am I doing?  Do I really have time for a kitten?  And am I ready for the long term committment?   

He is so cute and I had forgotten how silly kittens can be.   He's smart.  He's funny.  Surely the other pets will come around?

Sometimes we just don't realize what we get ourselves into when we say yes.  But, life can't all be planned and perfect.  And... so far, Loki, my little kitten of mischief,  is pretty darn fun.

2024 update. LOKI was actually a she, she is a great old cat now.

Post mortem poetry posting.

I'm often surprised to find out that I'm like my mother in a lot of ways.  (Aren't we all? ).  From her I learned to love and play with poetry.  Last week I signed up to participate in a little poetry appreciation for the town I currently live in to celebrate its 275th birthday. (More on that in a future post). This past Wednesday  I spent several hours on the computer fine-tuning and submitting the final poem for the reading.  It was my birthday and in the middle of this,  my brother David called to wish me a great day.  We don't talk much anymore so we chatted for awhile about all kinds of things and he told me he had just submitted one of our mother's poems to a Living History project .  How odd that on the day I was writing a poem about the little town I live in now, my brother posts a poem my mother wrote about the town she lived in then.  Weird.  I didn't even know my brother was interested in Mom's poetry!  How wonderful.   I'm so glad he took the intiative and submitted Mom's poem and helped it find its way back home.  I'm sure it will be enjoyed by the residents of the town today.

Here is the poem Mom wrote back in 1964 about the town of Ridgefield where they lived.  As the story goes, the poem was written for my sister to turn in as her english poetry assignment - she got an A from what I'm told. Ha.  Anyway ... Mom's poem was called

My Home, Ridgefield
                by Avis Alice Eaves

I’m in love with Ridgefield town.
So peaceful and so small.
It's building memories renown,
and I treasure each and all.
For I live high on top of a hill,
In the land of rivers and trees.
And rise up early at my will,
To see the sights like these.
Majestic mountains in the east,
Snow-capped and standing high.
Glittering lights shine in the west,
And a river boat goes by.
This is my town, my very own,
My heart and soul, they call it home.

Rest in peace Mom... we think of you often and love you much!

A new piece of jewelry

I turned 51 yesterday.  Another birthday.  Another milestone in my life.  Ha!  My clock is certainly ticking. ;)

So, to celebrate, I went with two wonderful friends to New York City for the weekend.  Katie had never been there before and saw it through a newcomers eyes.  Asha had lived there for several years during college, and therefore knew all the hip places to go.  I've been once or twice ... but this visit was different and very very fun.  I can't wait to go back again.

The one thing I knew I would get while there will surprise you.  I can't believe I did it.  I've been admiring them for more than 10 years and wanting one for myself for more than 5.  But.. I was afraid to get one.  Really?  A Belly Ring?   Yes!  A navel piercing!   I did it.  As did my friend Katie.  Asha already had hers so she joined in and got a new beautiful jewelry piece for hers.  I did it.  Now... six or more months of healing.  So far, I love it.  I think it is so beautiful.  (I've always loved my belly and even fat as is is... I love the belly ring).   Silly me.  51 years old and piercing my navel.   Laughing out loud.