Middle Aged Woman Blogging

I've Never Been So Scared - Part Two

2010-09-27T11:13:00.003-05:00

Zach gave the nurse all his information then, she pulled out a wheelchair to haul him back to an emergency room. He refused and walked instead, still carrying his backpack. He isn’t grimacing in pain. He’s smiling and being polite. I’m wondering to myself, what is wrong with this child? We settled ourselves in a room, talked to the doctor and waited for the x-ray technician. Soon, I could see not one, but two doctors sitting at what looked like a television screen staring at x-rays. They had to be Zach’s. It was at this point things moved into warp speed.

Before I knew it, six to seven people were lining up against the walls of our room. I could hear mumblings about a procedure. One person told me they didn’t often get a chance to watch this.

I’m thinking, “Watch what?”

Someone pulled out a tray, shining stainless steel instruments were lain out nicely and the two doctors entered our room.

“He has a collapsed lung. We’re going to try to inflate it,” one said to me as he gowned up and pulled on those awful rubber gloves.

“Right here? Right now?”

“Yes, do you want to stay or go?”

“I’m staying,” I replied as I looked into Zach’s eyes and watched the color drain from his face.

I held his hand tightly as they gave him the shot to numb his chest, then tighter still as the scalpel cut into his skin before they pushed a tube into his side. I could now plainly see all the pain my son had been hiding. He had been in more denial than I ever had.

“Classic case,” I heard someone say, “Tall, thin, and male.”

Another x-ray and the lung looked good. I could breath. Afterwards, I walked out into a hallway trying to reach Zach’s father, who lives in Beijing. Hearing voicemail in a language so foreign to me, I hung up and immediately called my stepson. At this point, my voice broke and the tears began to flow. I’d been more tense than I realized.

“Please have Bob call me,” I explained.

While Zach was being admitted to the hospital, my phone rang.

“Should I fly home?” he offered.

“No, I don’t think it’s necessary. They way they talked this is a classic case. They keep him 24 hours, take another x-ray and probably release him to go home. I just thought you should know,” I told him because I honestly believed this was the worst of it. I was wrong.

Twenty-four hours later, the lung had deflated. Forty-eight hours passed and it was looking like surgery was in order. Not again, I thought. Bob kept calling but still, I told him he needn’t come home. They way the doctor talked, this is pretty common. He did over 155 surgeries like this in the last year. Things should be good, I tried reassuring myself as well as Bob.

Zach almost died as an infant. He’d been born with a hole in his diaphragm. His kidney and all of his intestines were shoved up into his chest cavity and only one lung had expanded. A nurse came into my room to take his foot prints. When she pulled back his blankets, he was blue. Time warp number one. He’d had surgery within two hours of his birth and spent weeks in the neonatal unit. In the middle of the night, I could hear him crying and calling for me. I’d rush to his side at all hours. This could not be happening again. All of the memories weighed heavily on my heart.

Seventy-two hours later he was getting a CT scan. Five hours after that, I was face to face with the surgeon. They’d found a mass in Zach’s chest. It wasn’t going to be the simple “attach the lung to the rib cage” surgery any longer. They wanted to saw open my son’s sternum, just like open heart surgery, and remove the mass. I didn’t hear the “80%” chance of not being cancer, I heard the “20%” chance it could be cancer and “six month recovery period.” Zach heard “school might not be an option this semester” and felt his life coming to a complete halt.

“Come home now, Bob,” I cried into the phone, “It’s more serious than we thought, please, come home now.”

It’s a twenty-four hour flight from Thailand, where Bob had been vacationing. He was home the next day and surgery was the day after that. I wanted my mother, who passed two years ago. I wanted to go back in time and change what had been. I wanted a miracle.

It’s been one month since Zach’s surgery. His biopsy showed no cancer. He’s back in school getting his Master’s and TAing a class. His father stayed with him for the first two weeks helping him get back on his feet. Zach has yet another scar on his chest to add to his collection. He’s telling people he got it wrestling tigers in India.

I want to thank all my friends and family and all of Zach’s friends and professors who prayed and showed support for us while we were going through this ordeal. You are my miracle!!

I've Never Been So Scared In My Life

2010-09-24T18:29:00.011-05:00

My son almost died last month. My only son, whom I love with every breath I take, almost died in my arms for the second time in his life. He is twenty-four years old now. The first time was at birth. He was born with a diaphragmatic hernia, had surgery when he was a little over an hour old and has a foot long scar on his chest to prove it. His father and I divorced almost eight years ago. He moved to Asia and has lived there ever since. I stay in the city where I was born and raised, taking care of my father and providing a home base for our children.

A month ago my son called from Chicago around 7 PM in the evening, “I don’t feel right. Can you come and get me?”

“What’s wrong? Zach! I am three hours away! If it’s that bad get your ass to Northwestern!

“I don’t have a car, Lois, remember?” He has always called me Lois. Lois, Loey, Lobo, Lo Lo… anything but Mom.

“Dear God, Zach, call one of your cousins. They both have cars.”

“But, I want you to come and get me. I want to see my doctor.”

“Let me repeat, I am three hours away. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m not sure. This morning I was tying my shoe, then… I jumped up and threw my hands in the air and it felt like I pulled something in my chest where my pec muscle is.”

“You think you pulled a muscle and you want me to drive three hours to Chicago, then three hours back to Peoria so you can see a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“No!” I hung up the phone in disgust. He had to be kidding, right? My thoughts were muddled. What if he were really hurt? He couldn’t be. He runs five miles a day. He plays basketball four times a week. He rock climbs at the gym a couple of times a week. He lifts weights. He eats healthier than anyone I know.

My phone rang again, “Please, please come and get me, Mom.”

I didn't think twice. He called me Mom. This was serious. I grabbed my purse, jumped in my car and headed north to Chicago. The sun was barely setting as I drove past cornfield after cornfield until I reached I-80. By the time I was rounding my way onto Lake Shore Drive, the city was lit with a million flickering lights. I pulled up in front of my son’s apartment and there he stood, my 6 foot tall, slender and strong boy child, his backpack slung over his shoulder, waiting for his Mommy with a smile on his face.

I got out of my car, threw my arms around him giving him a huge hug. He seemed fine. He seemed really fine. He was smiling and joking and happy. He didn't seem to be in any pain. Why was I here, exactly? I didn't question him. We headed back to Peoria down interstate 55, him sleeping most of the way. The closer I got to home the more I thought... a twenty-four year old man doesn't call his mommy at 7:30 on a Friday night to come and get him unless something is seriously wrong. I drove straight to the emergency room. It was 1:30 AM.

To be continued...

She Used To Be a Backseat Bumpkin

2010-07-25T08:41:00.036-05:00

Reading A Persistent Muse's blog, I couldn't help but be reminded of my own precious daughter's wandering ways. When Paige was little, she kept a pink and purple backpack with her name embroidered on the front tucked away at the back of her closet with her favorite books, toys and other essentials she thought she might need to make her escape. She toted the bag on her back the first time she ran away to the corner. Standing apprehensively at the doorway, allowing her to spread her wings, I was thankful when she finally turned homeward.

"Where did you think you were going," her father questioned her.

"Anywhere!" Paige replied adamantly, "Away from here!"

Many times she traveled with me as my backseat bumpkin, like the times I took her to Chicago and told her we were in Ireland. We sang Irish songs all the way... "Too-Ra-Loo- Ra-Loo-Ral" and "I'll tell my ma when I get home, the boys won't leave the girls alone!" Then, there were the trips to St. Louis when I told her we were in Italy. I'd take her to the park and over to The Hill for spaghetti. A simple trip across town could be to France!

"Bonjour!" we'd say to people in the park.

"Bonjour," they'd reply. Granted, when she finally took geography in grade school it posed a small problem, but nothing she couldn't get over.

When she was in sixth grade, our family was transferred to Switzerland. Her dreams came true as we toured castles, skied the Alps, climbed the Eiffel Tower and pretended we were Monet in the South of France. I thought it was a once in a lifetime experience, and for me, it was. Soon, we were back home in the United States and she was attending football games and proms, but little did I realize her wandering ways had only been magnified.

In what felt like a blink of an eye, she was packing for freshman year at college. I entered her room and noticed her shelves were practically empty. She dragged every suitcase from the basement and there they were, spread out all over her room, filled to capacity with books, trinkets, and every essential she thought she needed to make her escape.

"WHAT are you thinking?" I questioned.

She turned on a dime with tears in her eyes, "You don't get it, do you? I am NEVER coming back!"

"Of course, you are! Don't be ridiculous. You'll be home all the time and after school's over I'm sure you'll come home and look for work." I retorted.

I could not have been more wrong. Her senior year of college, she applied for the Peace Corps and moved to West Africa within three months of graduation. There, she lived in a hut with no running water and no electricity for over two years. After her stint in the Peace Corps, she traveled to Bali, Angkor Wot, Indonesia, Thailand and Singapore with her brother. I thought, now.... now she has seen the world and she'll come home for awhile. I reminisced about the travel games I played with her while she was growing up and realized they were a curse and a blessing. Soon she was engaged, stayed home long enough to plan a wedding and then she was off to California with her husband. Paige had been right, she was never coming back, not to stay anyway, again.

I assure you her wandering ways have not stopped. Paige and her husband traveled to China during the Olympics. After that, they flew to Germany for a rock climbing trip with his brother. Now, almost every weekend she can be found carrying an even larger backpack hiking or rock climbing in the mountains outside of Los Angeles or Las Vegas. This August, she and her husband are meeting her brother at Glacier National Park to hike for eight days.

I often wonder if Paige had a sixth sense about the path her life was going to take. I question if our travel games caused her wanderlust and if I would have changed them if only I had known. Yet, when I think of that little four year old girl standing on the corner with her pink and purple backpack, I know in my heart she had a plan and she stuck to it.

Paige called me last week from California. She's a little homesick and wants to come back the 2nd weekend of August. So, I will be waiting apprehensively in my doorway once again, thankful for the moment she walks up my driveway and turns down the sidewalk, homeward.

Hang Ten, Baby!!!

2010-07-18T04:20:00.012-05:00

My nephew, aka The Stud, flew out to Los Angeles last week

to visit my daughter and learn to surf!

Here's her brother-in-law, my nephew, her husband

and a high school friend of my nephew. (cute, huh?)

Can you tell he was a line backer in college?

Getting ready to go!

And...... He's up!!

Then, drinking!

(that gorgeous blond is my daughter!)

And.... more drinking!

Which leads to this...

Next day, lunch at the same restaurant where Mel Gibson drank a wee bit too much,

just before he asked the nice policeman if he was a Jew.

And my personal favorite!!!

Diddy Riese!!

He flew back on a red eye flight Sunday night and arrived in Chicago safe and sound!

My daughter said they didn't sleep all weekend!

I love having kids! And I love that they have cousins they still play with, even as adults!

Many thanks to my sister for having such great sons!

I love you all!!

MOTHER FUCK!!!!!!

2010-07-12T15:26:00.003-05:00

TWO MONTHS AGO:

Ex-husband: "I'm buying a condo in Florida, then heading back to Beijing."

Me: "Really? (wheels spinning) What are you going to do with it while you're in Beijing?"

Ex-husband: (looking at me like, oh God, here we go) "Yes, you can use it."

Me: (happy, happy, happy) "Cool! Thank you, can I go for two months? I can do some oil painting while I'm down there."

Ex-husband: "Yes, I'd rather have someone living there than have it sit empty."

~~~~~~~~~~

So, three weeks later, my son and his father head to Florida in a U-haul taking all of his earthly belongings that had been in storage for over a year waiting for him to retire. I cannot wait to take a vacation. Two years ago, my mother died. I've been helping to take care of my father, who has dementia, ever since. My son finally graduated from college and I am free! My sisters will help take care of Dad and I am so ready to blow this pop-stand! The real estate market has taken a crap so, I started tutoring at the local grade school, finally putting my degree to use. I have the summer off. What luck! Destiny! Serendipity!

~~~~~~~~~~

TWO WEEKS AGO:

Phone rings...

Ex-husband: "Lois?"

Me: "Bob!" (still in hog heaven about going to Florida!)

Ex-husband: "I'm sitting at the closing and I can't close on the condo."

Me: "Why not?" (thinking, this can't be good)

Ex-husband: "I got married after I made the offer and they need my wife to sign papers."

Me: "You got married?"

Ex-husband: "Call Michael (my cousin the Real Estate Attorney) and have him call me."

~~~~~~~~~

Well, needless to say, things went south. Yes, my 67 yr old ex, Bob, married a 40 yr old Asian woman, who is sitting back in China waiting for a Visa. The builder allowed Bob and Zach to move his things into the condo before closing. During closing, the agent called a locksmith to change all of the locks. All of his earthly goods now sit in boxes in the garage and the living room waiting to be unpacked and he couldn't get back in to do so. Bob takes the papers back to Beijing, makes an appointment at the American Embassy to have them notarized and mails them to the closing agent.

~~~~~~~~~

YESTERDAY:

E-mails...

Shunnedexwife@shit.com: "Well? Did you get the papers signed?"

Exhusband@livingoutmyporndreams.com: "Yes, we got them signed and the closing agent has received them." (end of message????)

Shunnedexwife@shit.com: "Great, then I can go in August after I get Zach moved into his new apartment in Chicago. Thanks!"

Exhusband@livingoutmyporndreams.com: "No, you can't. I want to unpack everything first before anyone goes down there."

Shunnedexwife@shit.com: "Uh, you couldn't tell me this before? When are you coming back from Beijing?"

NO REPLY!!!

MOTHER FUCK!!!!!!

Happy Graduation!!

2010-06-15T10:28:00.012-05:00

He did it!!!

DePaul University

Bachelor's of Science

Chemistry

Dean's List

Continuing on to get his Master's in none other than

CHEMISTRY!!

Congratulations Zachary!

I am so proud of you!

xoxoxo

Hang On In There, Baby!

2010-05-15T08:16:00.009-05:00

Woman in the Rain

Mariia Kouznetsova

I have a sister who is eight years older than myself. She was graced with a private school education, while I was not. Apparently my parents didn’t think it worked out so hot for her so, I was placed in public school. She wore a cool uniform with pleated skirts, jackets with emblems on the pockets and wore saddle shoes. I, on the other hand, looked like an orphan in dresses that seemed to need ironing and hair that went every which way. She had her own bedroom with a HUGE full-length mirror, a stereo and posters of Elvis. She would sit in front of that mirror for what seemed like hours and tease her hair until it stood up on end and then style it into a beehive. I was in awe. I had to share my bedroom with my two younger sisters. My sister walked a few blocks from home to catch the bus to her school. When it rained, my mother would get in her car, drive downtown and collect her. She did this faithfully. I took notice.

One particular day I remember staring out of the windows of my classroom watching it become more and more dark outside. By the time the bell rang for school to let out wind, rain, thunder, and even lightening filled my world! For whatever reason, I remember distinctly standing in the lobby of the school watching as other children’s mothers pulled up onto the playground then, their sons or daughters would make a made dash for the safety of their cars. My rescue never came.

Teachers walked by, “Lois? Why aren’t you going home?”

“My mom is coming to get me,” I assured them.

I heard snickers and talking behind my back, “She thinks her mother should come pick her up.” Giggle! Giggle!

I was not happy. I stood there until one of the teachers told me I absolutely had to go home. My reality was that my mother was not coming to pick me up and I was sent out into the storm alone. I ran. I ran like the wind as fast as I could. I was hurt. I was embarrassed. I remember crashing through the front door and into the living room. By this time, I was mad, so mad! My mother was sitting on the floor holding my youngest sister. I began yelling at her.

“Why didn’t you come get me! Can’t you see it’s raining! You always pick up Sandy! Everyone else’s mom’s came to get them, but you left me standing there!” Tears were pouring down my cheeks while I blurted the words out at her in a rage. The look on her face was one of shock.

“But, Lois,” she said, “you only live across the street.”

This was true. I only lived one house away from the school. Why I thought I should have been picked up is beyond me, but I remember the entire incident as if it were yesterday. Why? Did I think she loved Sandy more than me? Did I want to be like the other kids whose parents cared enough to drive up to the school to get them? Was I that spoiled or was being the child in the middle making me crazy?

I’m not sure what the answer is, but lately I feel I am back in that same position again. I need help getting across the street. I haven’t posted for awhile. I’m busy taking care of my father whose mind is slowly leaving him. He talks to his brother Dale, who has been dead for fifteen years. He doesn’t remember taking his morning pills that I stood there and spoon-fed him. He doesn’t want to eat. My older sister is housebound now, unable to drive anywhere. I check on her, too.

My ex-husband recently remarried, something I didn’t think would ever happen. He’s 67 and his new wife is 42 and waiting for her visa from China. He didn’t have the nerve to tell me, even though I saw him face to face just a week after his nuptials. He’d come home to settle his mother’s estate. The gutless SOB left it up to my son to give me this news. While he was in town he had a doctor appointment to see if he could get his vasectomy reversed. He can’t. I’m thrilled.

I went back to work for the first time in years. I’m tutoring at the school across the street from my father’s home where he lives alone now since my mother’s death two years ago. The same school where I stood fifty years ago, waiting for her to come pick me up in the rain. I visit my father every day for lunch and after school. Some days I still have trouble crossing the street.

Light A Candle For Kate Puzey

2010-03-11T21:24:00.011-06:00

As most of my readers know, my daughter lived in Togo, West Africa for over two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer teaching HIV/AIDS education and helping to build wells for clean water. She lived in the country during a time when over 40,000 people literally walked out when the president of the country died. She lived by a border and witnessed child trafficking on a daily basis and was unable to stop it. Kate Puzey lived in Benin, West Africa as a Peace Corps Volunteer after my daughter's term was up. She tried to stop child trafficking and it cost Kate her life. Please read my post, light a candle and complete a day's service in honor of Kate. Please do this for yourself, in honor of Kate and her friends and family, and for children all over the world who are not safe in their own homes.

Peace Corps Family,

One year ago we lost Kate Puzey, a volunteer serving in Badjoude to a senseless act of violence. As we mourn her death on March 11th we need to also celebrate her life and what it stood for.

At Kate's funeral, many were moved at how amazing her family was and even in her death how they still stressed the importance of her service.

As PCVs it is now our obligation to continue in her honor. Pick a day or even, an hour, in or around the 11th and commit to continue the legacy Kate did her entire life. Please feel free to mention how and where you will be making such a commitment on the wall below.

Also, if you would like to make a monetary donation, please consider her commemorative fund through Peace Corps Benin. You will find further instructions on the wall as well.

Finally, Kate's family is also planning a way for us to memorialize her around the world. Please take a look at the youtube video linked below.

From Facebook

Light A Candle For Kate Puzey

Slain Peace Corps Volunteer's Family Speaks

Atlanta Peace Corps Volunteer Killed In Africa

CUMMING, Ga. -- Kate Puzey’s parents have endured a year of heartache. They lost their daughter under tremendously difficult circumstances, and felt they couldn’t get the answers they needed about her death.

Kate was the kind of daughter any family would be proud of: positive in spirit, a quiet leader (student council president twice), and a citizen of the world who wanted to affect change by helping people hand in hand. She chose the Peace Corps and committed to two years as an English teacher in the west African nation of Benin.
Her connection to her students was evident in the photographs her family shared with Channel 2 Action News reporter Linda Stouffer. Harry Puzey, her father, told Stouffer, “They loved her, and she loved them.”
But two months before her homecoming, on March 11, 2009, she was killed.

For the past year the Puzey’s have struggled to understand the circumstances. They have also kept details quiet, out of tremendous respect for the Peace Corps and the legal process underway in Benin. However, now they are speaking out, to draw attention to her courage and life of service.
Lois Puzey said Kate believed several students had been sexually exploited by a local national employee. Kate apparently struggled with how best to handle the situation, then decided to anonymously report her suspicious. Lois told Stouffer, “The students and the teachers came to her and said can you help us here to try to do something, and in doing that, she put herself in harm’s way. Within a few days of her anonymously trying to get the word out to the right authorities, she was murdered.”
Kate’s parents are just back from a whirlwind series of meetings in Washington, D.C. They are trying to be “Kate’s voice” through a difficult process. They hope to see a conviction in local courts in Benin, but they also want the Peace Corps to be, in Lois’ words: “The Peace Corps Kate believed in: one that’s transparent, efficient and respects and protects and empowers their volunteers.”
The Peace Corps would not provide details of the death of their volunteer. They told Stouffer in an e-mail “The investigation into the death of Kate Puzey is ongoing. The Department of State, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Beninese government are collaborating on this investigation.”
Kate’s parents believe several men are in custody, including the man she anonymously accused. Lois Puzey plans to attend the trial in Benin, which she thinks will take place in November.
In the meantime, Kate’s friends and family are circulating loving tributes… through YouTube and Facebook. Several hundred people have committed to a day of service in her honor.
“She was an absolute joy for us from the day she was born until the day she died. I called her my sunshine girl,” Lois Puzey said.

http://www.wsbtv.com/news/22798759/detail.html

While I'm Getting Ready For The Travel Channel To Find Me....

2010-02-11T13:42:00.013-06:00

I believe in signs. Not just the usual "OMG! You are headed into snake skin curves!" or "Yo! Look out for crazy falling rocks that might hit your car and send you careening off into a ditch" signs. No, I believe in signs from God! or The Universe... whichever you prefer. I believe that if you pay attention or listen hard enough, you will be given answers to your questions. Now, these answers don't always come in ways that you would expect them and they don't always come when you want them, but sooner or later.... you get your answer.

I was sitting at my dining room table yesterday, thinking of my poor deceased mother. "Damn you! You secretly knew Dad was going to turn out like this so you died first," I berated her, even though I couldn't see her. I pondered this statement as I looked out my window and BAM! A cardinal flew into the bushes and stared at me for a good 5 minutes. I knew it was her! Or at least her spirit come to haunt me. She had a thing about cardinals and redbirds. "The first sign of Spring," she always said.

My phone rang. My good friend and life coach, Tori, invited me to her yoga class, reminding me that I need a break and I knew a few deep breaths would do me good. Let's face it, if one is going to be the star of a new travel show, (read previous post) they should probably be in good traveling shape! Please, sit back and let me share this wonderful experience with you.

Heading Om Yoga Studio

Our fabulous yoga instructor, Tammy Mitchell

All relaxed now! Sorry, Mom..... oh, and thanks for the invite, Tori! (I think Mom must have whispered in her ear, don't you?)

I Want a Job Like Rick Steves!!!

2010-02-02T20:27:00.005-06:00

I can soooo do this job! You've watched Rick on PBS, right? He travels all over Europe filming his adventures, giving us travel tips and hints. I'm thinkin' "Middle Aged Woman Traveling!" Yes, I know there is that one travel show with that little, petite thing with the short hair whose name escapes me right now, but honestly, she is just too damned perky! We want a real woman traveler. Not so bubbly, but more realistic, damn it! Sort of like an older Sex in The City woman who can show you where to find the really good bargains on shoes, scarves and handbags in Rome, where to find great sex without getting STDs in Paris, how to spot royalty in Gstaad, and how to tell which Australian men are really hung. This would be a show for after 9 PM when the kiddies are in bed. A modern day Sex and The Single Woman! Only, probably a lot less sex.

Let's face it, late night television needs a pick me up! And there are no women anywhere to be found on late night unless you have cable TV and have access to raunchy (and often hilarious) and crude, Chelsea Handler. She's made it work for herself but she doesn't travel the world! Women of a certain age want excitement! They know this may be their last chance to get out there and live life like there is no tomorrow, but they don't want to lose their divorce settlements doing it! And we can't all be Elizabeth Gilbert, running around beaches in Bali hooking up with middle-aged men who have been living in a hut for years.

I could interview all the interesting people while visiting different countries. I would love to find out what the French President's ex-wives really thinks of Carla Bruni. Granted, Carla seems like a perfectly beautiful and charming young woman, but Nicky's exes just have to want to flatten her sometimes. Now, his first ex has to share her grandchildren with her! Wouldn't you love to hear from her? And how about the guy that runs Toyota? Hello!!! What were you thinking? Or even women in our own country, like David Letterman's wife. "How much is he paying you to stay exactly?"

Travel Channel!! Come and get me!!! I am so ready!!

The Winter Blues Have Set In

2010-01-31T15:54:00.002-06:00

Good morning heartache, you old gloomy sight
Good morning heartache
Thought we said goodbye last night
I turned and tossed until it seems you had gone
But here you are with the dawn

Wish I’d forget you, but you're here to stay
It seems I met you, when my love went away
Now everyday I start by saying to you
Good morning heartache… what's new

Stop haunting me now, can't shake you no how
Just leave me alone
I've got those Monday blues
Straight through Sunday blues

Good morning heartache, here we go again
Good morning heartache
You're the one who knew me when
Might as well get used to you hangin’ around
Good morning heartache, sit down

I Will Survive! I Will Survive! Come on, sing it with me! Did You Think I'd Crumble? Did You Think I'd Lay Down & Die? Oh No Not I, I Will Survive!

2010-01-16T09:12:00.013-06:00

I must confess that lately, I've not been happy with my bad self! Since quitting smoking about a month ago, I also made the decision to get back into shape! You know the routine... exercise, eat right, stay positive, etc. etc. I started thinking about the last time I felt like I was in really great shape and sadly, I think it was after I had my first child. This was 1982 mind you. I would plug Jane Fonda videos into my television and try to orgasmically (is that a word?) breathe and donkey kick. You can now watch all these videos on Youtube. Here's an example for your viewing enjoyment. "This is a very isolated movement of the buttocks. Resist bringing those knees together, make it burn!" (some of us don't care to be reminded! Oh, Jane, what were you thinking? and what was I thinking?) My husband, at the time, loved these videos. After all, it was the first time you could legally watch scantily clad women on your television without it being call pornography.

Anyway, enough about Jane and back to me. I am beginning to believe there is a devil! I quit smoking, which is great! I grocery shopped and only bought healthy foods, which is great. I started exercising, which is great.. This lasted for less than a week and, then I get sick with the pseudo H1N1 flu thing from Hell. I continue eating healthy foods, but exercise went out the window. This week I felt sooooo much better. I walked the long walk into the bowels of my home, deep into my basement where I keep all the wondrous exercise equipment, sweaters hanging nicely from the stationary bicycle, treadmill, climbing machine and the ballet bar. I put in the Nia DVD. (if you haven't tried Nia, I highly recommend it!)

I walk on the treadmill for 30 minutes while watching the Nia DVD. Then I plug in "Body by Jake" for my free weight workout.

I do ALL the exercises and feel wonderful!! I record them all, just like Jake recommends. I did it!! I am so damn proud of myself! I am back in the groove! By Spring I will look amazing again! YEAH me!!! I am motivated! I am strong! I am woman!!
Well, friends, that was three days ago and I haven't exercised since. All that enthusiasm went out the window when I could not get my arse out of bed. Well, I take that back. I got my arse out of bed, but it promptly landed on my bedroom floor. My back was out!! My back is still out! But, I will not give up! Damn it! I will survive! (singing) I will survive! (Thank you, Gloria Gaynor!)

Leave me a message and tell me your exercise routine. Did you ever quit for years and start again? Are you starting again for the New Year? I know some of you are, because I've read your blogs!! What keeps you motivated?

I'm In Love!

2010-01-10T06:43:00.012-06:00

Me and my neti pot.... we're best friends now. Whodathunk? I've seen these silly looking things on either Oprah or the new Dr. Oz show and thought, "No Way!"

I was even rummaging around my sister's medicine cabinet one day looking for an antacid, any antacid, but found her neti pot instead, "OMG! Do you actually use this thing?"

She did. She loved it. Highly recommended it! Bleh! Have you ever seen anyone use a neti pot? Well, I watched Dr. Oz stick this spout up his nose and run water from this tea pot looking thing up into his brain and out the other side. Let me tell you, it gave me pause. It was like a magic trick one of your idiot classmates would pull in third grade science class. You know the one. Billy Bonkers who's always gettin' himself in trouble. Yes, in 1962, if Billy Bonkers brought a neti pot to school, run water up into his brain and out the other side, touting medicinal purposes, his ass would have been tossed down to the principal's office in less that 5 minutes and everyone in school would have heard about it in less than 10 minutes and in about 12 minutes everyone in town could hear, "Eeeeeeeeewwwwe!!!" coming from about 350 kids.

So, here's the low down. Ever since my return from wonderful, beautiful and sunny Los Angeles, I've been sick with what I was sure was a mild case of swine flu. Low grade fever, stuffed nose, cough, tired... you name it (but not that thank God!) I had it! I even googled, "quit smoking get sick" and found soooo many others who had the same symptoms after quitting smoking. Apparently, your body really knows how to fight back when it wants it's fix! Finally, Friday I went to the doctor and I have the sinus infection from Hell! He gives me an antibiotic and suggests I get a neti pot!

"WHAT??!!"

Well, after one use of that silly looking thing, I am in love! I can breath! I plan on having an ongoing relationship with neti for the rest of my born days. I actually felt well enough to leave my humble abode and go eat some sushi with a friend. Thank you, Janet, for suggesting I might not actually have H1N1 and may only have a sinus infection and that I should see my doctor! Who knew that pouring water into your brain would be good for you? Makes me wonder where Billy Bonkers is today.

Maybe, next, I'll even try yoga!!

More Fun Reasons to Return to LA!!!

2010-01-03T05:30:00.021-06:00

My new favorite place for dessert!! If you haven't been there, you are truly missing out! It's quite the experience!

Cute LAPD!!!!! Hubba! Hubba!!

The Getty Museum!! Wonderful views of LA and the ocean, along with great art!

See!! Great art! Do yourself a favor, click and enlarge! LMAO

Comedy Club in Hermosa Beach where Jay Leno plays every Sunday.

I had such fun! It was so beautiful and sunny in California, it made you want to get outside every day and exercise! And that's what I did and that's when I realized, I had to quit smoking for good! I quit for over 23 yrs once, but started again about 5 yrs ago. I've quit off and on during this last year, but I realized while riding my bike from Redondo to Venice Beach (since I could hardly breath) that I absolutely had to stop now. And that's what I did! I haven't had a cigarette now in over 3 weeks! Came home to a deep freeze! Supposed to get 6 to 11 more inches of snow tonight and tomorrow.

Seeing the sights was great, but the best reason to return to LA is love!!!

My daughter and her hubby!!

Copper-filled, Colorful and Psychedelic

2009-12-30T11:02:00.007-06:00

Finally, I understand why so many people moved to California in the 60's and 70's. (also, wondering how I missed out!)

I'm back home now, relaxed and rejuvenated. (conspiring a multitude of ways of spending the rest of my days in warmth and sunshine)

Feeling grateful for the opportunity of watching the Universe manifest her psychedelic light show every night. (right outside my motel window in Hermosa Beach!)

A much needed respite that ground my daily life to a halt, bringing reflection and a new sense of self..... time to move on. (I'm definitely ready for the next phase! Bring it!)

A journey well timed for a woman moving toward her sunset years. May all my days be as colorful as a copper-filled, California sunset! (notice I said "moving toward" not "in!")

I'm Outta Here!!!

2009-12-08T09:18:00.003-06:00

This is where I'm from...

This is where I'm going..

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!! May you be with the ones you love this Holiday Season! See you in January!!

Naptime Dream

2009-12-02T14:16:00.014-06:00

I decided to take a peaceful little nap on my sofa yesterday when all hell broke loose. In my dream, I was actually on my sofa and my mother, who’s been dead now for over a year, was sitting in a chair across from me. I do not remember what we were talking about when I felt a prick of a pin on my right side. I felt down by my bra strap and there was a safety pin that had opened up and was sticking in me. OUCH! Blood!!! I pulled it out and it became a very sharp, black BIC pen. I remember being worried about blood poisoning? I was bleeding and bleeding. It wouldn’t stop. I’ve never seen so much blood and I certainly don’t ever remember ever dreaming about blood before in my life.

I ran to the bathroom and saw there was a pool of blood on the floor from where I had been bleeding before from my mouth or face. I grabbed a wet washcloth to press against the wound. I was wearing a green shirt and there were blood splatters all over it. The back of the shirt was tie-dyed in bright blues and yellows, reds and white. I kept dabbing the wound with the cloth until it finally stopped bleeding. I looked down and the wound was black and dark red and located right above my armpit. My mother was with me all this time. I do not remember what she was talking about.

Then, as I sat back down on my sofa, I heard men singing. At least 100 barbershop singers walked into my living room and I had to move furniture around to make room for them.

My walls were painted pale pink and it reflected on my furniture making it look pink, especially one chair. Then, the room turned into a ballroom or convention room and there was a horse drawn wagon with barbershop singers sitting on top. I remember thinking of Bob, my ex-husband, because he sang barbershop. My mom was still there and I don’t know if we were talking or if I was thinking… Bob was really nice and it’s too bad it didn’t work out, but he has a hole where his heart should be. A void right in the middle of his chest. End of dream.

When I awoke I had to look around to see if I had painted my walls pink. I expected to see barbershop singers, but of course, there were none. Five years after my twenty-five year marriage ended, I am still analyzing and trying to figure out what went wrong, even in my dreams. Five years have passed and I still do not date. Was this a release dream? The loss of blood and a healing wound?

Was it a poison pen or a sign that I need to write more?

I am visiting my daughter for the holidays and who is coming on the exact day my plane lands in LA? Yes, him! How does this happen? I made my reservations six months ago and he makes plans without even consulting our daughter. It was a surprise to her, also. And so, sharing two children, our paths cross. Through blood we are forever linked, and slowly my wound heals.

This song won't stop playing in my head....

Let's Get Fired Up!!

2009-11-20T10:14:00.008-06:00

Cassie, a friend of my daughter's who I have become friends with also, invited me to come along and paint pottery. I'd never done it before and not sure if I'll ever do it again, but I sure had fun!

The selection was almost overwhelming to me. I had no idea where to start. I needed something easy, that much I knew.

So many choices! And colors!!!

I took a peek at some finished products to get ideas.

This is our workspace before we got started... all clean and nice!

Then.... it changed! We got to work!

I picked my colors.

I found a cup I liked.

And I decided to paint hearts. I mean, how hard can hearts be??? I've been painting hearts since before kindergarden!

When I finish my coffee, I figured a little heart would be... you know... heartwarming!!

I need to perfect my writing, but I'll live with this.

All glazed and fired.

A daily morning reminder of how to live my life.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm.....

Thanks, Cassie!! xoxo

What Does Your Music Say About You???

2009-11-17T08:25:00.011-06:00

I stole this from JRobin Whitley. This is quite fun.

INSTRUCTIONS
1. Put your iPod, Zune or other music player on shuffle.
Use any playlist or collection you want.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!
4. Tag friends who might enjoy doing this as well as the person you got this from.

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?

"Don't Cry Baby" Etta James Gotta Love Etta!

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
"Tears of a Clown" Smokey Robinson Laughing through the heartache

What do you kiss like?
"Amethyst" Paul Baker

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
"Soul" Seal

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
"Music and High Beta Brain Wave Therapy" Kelly Howell owmmmmmmm

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
"Talkin' bout a Revolution" Afro Fiesta No doubt! I'm such a rebel

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
"Wonder" Natalie Merchant Duh!

WHAT IS 2+2?
"After Midnight" Eric Clapton Somehow this fits!

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
"An Awakened Life" Dr. Wayne Dyer This is true!

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"De Ja Vu" Crosby Stills Nash and Young Past life maybe?

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
"Don't Let it Bring You Down" Annie Lennox Damn!

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?"

"Precious Declaration" Collective Soul

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"You Shook Me" Led Zeppelin Oh yeah!

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
"All Kinds" Dan Wilson It takes all kinds to make this circus!

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
"From Me to You" The Beatles

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
"Sister Christian" Night Ranger

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
"Take Me To Your Pilot" Elton John

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
"What Child is This" Dan Fogelberg Too Funny! I am always asking my kids, "Whose child are you?"

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
"You Keep Me Hangin' On" Diana Ross and The Supremes How fitting is this?

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
"Long, Long Time" Sara Evans, Martina McBride, Mindy McCready and Lorrie Morgan

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
"My Funny Valentine" Frank Sinatra

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
"Long Time Comin'" Crosby, Stills and Nash

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
"The Lion Sleeps Tonight" Togo Togo Crazy! When my daughter left for Togo, West Africa I cried my eyes out!

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
"Why Can't We Live Together?" Sade LMAO

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
"Don't Let Me Down" Beatles

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
"Cry" Faith Hill Apparently not! LOL

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
"Stand By Me" Playing for Change

Cartoon by Mike Parisi at Off The Mark.com

What does your music say about you???

God, I Miss Mike Royko

2009-11-13T20:36:00.007-06:00

Procopius reminded me how much I miss Mike Royko. My mother saved this article from years ago in her bottom drawer. It must have had something to do with her having four daughters. She made each of us read it. Click on the image and it will enlarge so you, too, can read it. Hilarious! I miss this guy! Chicago Tribune hasn't been the same since.

Or click here and see if it works.

Hold Your Children Tight

2009-11-09T23:04:00.005-06:00

"Jakie"

June 15, 1987 - November 5, 2009

The first time I met Jake he was six years old, blond and blue eyed with a smile that stole my heart away. I loved him immediately. My son, Zach, and Jake met in first grade becoming fast friends. From that point on, for the next twelve years, he was practically a member of our family. I would sit at little league games with Jake’s mom cheering on the boys while his father coached the team. The boys grew older and their fathers would take them golfing. The two of them spent many hours together, fishing and swimming at the lake in our subdivision. I have photos of them in their white shirts and ties making their First Communions, and then their Confirmations. More pictures of them at grade school dances and graduation fill my photo albums. They grew older still, attending Homecoming dances and football games. Jake took up wrestling and won several state titles. My husband and I divorced Zach’s senior year of high school. His father moved to Singapore and I moved into the city. Zach changed schools and he saw less and less of Jake. Zach went off to college, but Jake would still drop by my house and see how we were doing. I saw a change in Jake that made me uncomfortable. I would call Zach and ask him what was going on, but I never quite got a straight answer. It was all speculation. Thursday night, at 10:30 PM, Zach’s quivering voice informed me, “Mom, Jake’s dead.”

My heart sank. Surely, he’s joking. It can’t be. I was in disbelief. Not the little boy who sneezed on your birthday cake? Not the little boy whose smile could warm any heart? Twenty-two years old? No! How did he die? I should have known better than to ask. My first thoughts were of his parents and the hell they must be in, the hell they must have been in for the last several years. These things don’t just happen over night. Yes, the boys drank in high school. Yes, I believe Zach smoked pot when he went away to college, but so did I. I did not want to believe that the little boy who came to visit me, making sure I was doing fine, had died of a heroin overdose.

Zach rode the Amtrak home from school Sunday morning. We arrived at the mortuary that afternoon, seeing the line of people come to pay their respects curving out into the parking lot. Forty-five minutes later I heard, “Oh, Zach!” and I watched Jake’s mom’s arms fly around my son’s neck. They stood there sobbing, unable to release each other for several minutes. I have never witnessed such a heart-wrenching scene. I knew she was thinking what I was thinking. How did things get so far off track? The sight of Zach reminded her of better days. Happier times. Wasn’t it just yesterday they were golfing?

Jake’s death was the third drug related death in the last several months from our former little haven. Heroin has moved into the suburbs, your suburbs. It is cheap and easily obtainable and it isn’t ghetto any longer. I beg you, hold on to your children. Educate yourselves and be involved. If you know of any child that has taken the road that Jake took, do not do what I did, which was nothing. Speak up! Say something. Show them you care about them and love them. Perhaps you will save a life. It is too late for me to go back, now. My heart may never heal and I know for sure, Zach’s won’t. Jake’s dead.

Halloween at the Castle in Peoria

2009-10-31T18:53:00.030-05:00

Full Moon
Dark of Night
Scary Faces
What a Fright!!

A few more steps
I'm not scared
Shhhhhhhhh!!
I'm near his Laird!

They can't hurt me!
No they can't!
What's that I hear?
A witch's chant?

Quiet now
I hear a scream
I'll get my loot
It's not a dream!

I'm so brave
I've got my sword
Mom? Oh, Mom!
Where's the Ford?

A Little Ghost Story

2009-10-28T16:15:00.026-05:00

I'm still plugging away at this painting thing. This first picture is how I wish I could paint.

This second picture is, sadly, how I paint. Notice the windows don't line up, the house is too big... and on and on.

This is a photograph of the house I was trying to paint. It's an old abandoned farm house down the road from where my father grew up and where I spent many Sunday's as a child, riding horses and chasing cats in the barn. It's also... haunted! Two people have committed suicide here, one hung himself in an old abandoned coal mine located on the property and another shot himself in the living room. I did not go inside. They didn't have any money growing up, but as they grew old and were no longer able to farm, they sold their property to the state and acres and acres of their land are now what is known as Jubilee State Park. They became millionaires but never changed their lives, living in this home til all were dead and gone.

I took my children here years ago to photograph them by the barn. It was a day still as death. Not a breeze in the air. We walked up to the property by a field where a path of weeds stood over our heads. In unison we each turned as we heard the wind coming closer and closer to where we stood. Staring down the path, we watched in amazement as the weeds farthest away begin bending in the breeze. It moved towards us and blew through the weeds as if they were tumbling dominos. I heard my daughter's voice, "Theeeeeeeeey're heeeeeeeeeere," and I knew we were not alone.

I wasn't happy with my first painting so a couple of weeks later I tried again, using the photographs I had taken. My father informed me the house needed a path so, I obliged him. It was the least I could do since he had accompanied me on my painting expedition the day I painted the first picture. If we had any visitors that day, my father did not speak of it, nor did I.

We Need Universal Single Pay Healthcare - Public Option Isn't Good Enough for America!!

2009-10-25T12:56:00.003-05:00

A post from Open Salon

by

Rutilus Extraho

Health Care Sent My Wife To Iraq

"Virture makes us aim at the right end, and wisdom makes us take the right means"- Aristotle

I hate this story. It is the tale of my failure as a Man. It is a story of great sacrifice. And death.

I am so very tired of the health care debate. I make no claims to either side. This is my story, you decide...

(as brief as possible)

1999-I am a retired military officer. We move to Mississippi and buy a house. We swear an oath that this is our bastion against the world. I promise my wife that I am finished with guns and violence.

The only work I can find is as an Investigator for the State. Am I nothing but a gunslinger for the man? S. is not pleased. I promise to leave my gun in the car. Blue Cross & Blue Shield. I am promoted to Chief of Detectives.

In Oct. I wake up with a headache. I have a tumor in the center of my brain. Dicey. Leave it in and die or remove it and maybe die. There are no options. Decide now.

Bad day. As they are accessing the tumor it ruptures like a grenade in my 3rd ventricle. Years of memories and motor skills dissapear as the neurons are "insulted" (A Grand medical term) Weeks in the hospital.

I go home beat to shit but determined to come back to my old self. The next morning my wife finds me crawling in blood, naked in our living room. An ambulance ride back to the hospital. Drill that skull, relieve that pressure.

Now come the days of screaming and pain. Nine months. 2 emergency room visits a week. No one knows. Hospitals, doctors, hospitals.

Staph A or Tuberculosis? A needle into my spine a scream. I learn to love narcotics. Staph A. Weeks in the ward, we'll send you home with an IV to your heart to pump in the anti-biotics. A 4 hour IV every day.

Kids. Food. Insurance. Mortgage. I decide that every day I can put my feet on the floor I will go to work. My wife helps me hide the plastic tubing, taping it to my arm she cries. I work. Since I can work BC&BS cancels my home nurse. Now I give myself the IVs.

Four months. The infection is gone but my spine is destroyed. Take a breath. THIS IS NOT REAL.

We add up our medical bills...$150,000 and we are not done yet. More surgeries loom. Corpectomys to remove the destroyed vertabrae, thoracotomys to remove parts of my lungs. But we have the best BC&BS and a secondary plan. We are once and truly fucked. We try, we struggle. For the next four years I work only 4-6 months of every year. We are sinking.

We file for Bankruptcy protection. We can keep the house. The shame makes me want to kill myself. I do have great death insurance. She talks me out of death. But it's coming and I know it's coming.

August 29th 2005, Katrina hits. I send my wife and kids north so I can do my job. The horror. 20 hour days ruin me. 5TH surgery in late Sep.

Nov.- I go to my Neurosurgeon appt. My wife is there with 3 of my doctors. This is an INTERVENTION. I'm killing myself, it's time to put my responsibilites down. Large doses of Oxycontin a 200 mile commute and a gun are not a good thing. I've been a father since I was 19, how can I stop? I must. I do. A Shame Unbound.

2008. My wife is a mathematician and computer scientist. The economy is tanking, she loses her job.

We lose our health care benefits. We are DONE.

We struggle for months. My health is failing. The bank wants the house. I am a deadbeat, no-good, gimp, pussy who can not provide for his family.

When we met, my wife and I were both in the Army. 9 years later with our life in shambles, our bastion destroyed by the barbarians, her husband a failure, she wants to re-enlist. We need an income, we need healthcare.

With out health care I can not afford my 360mg a day Oxycontin habit. So I lock the doors and pull the blinds. Cold Turkey is tough. Brutal. I shake, I sweat, I scream, I vomit. Oh, how I vomit. My brother Iron Mike breaks the lock and after 4 weeks finds me in the tub covered in vomit and blood. He saves me. My wife saves me.

I cry, she enlists. At 34. She leaves for training. She goes to Iraq. Our son is already there. I am alone.

The bank wants the house. "'Fuck You', take the house.". They agree to negotiate.

I worked hard. We worked hard. We paid our taxes and slept in the peace that our life was moving forward. A headache destroyed all of it.

We have been together 6 months of the last 24. My wife is returning to Iraq in early 2010. Our Son is dead.

Over and over I ask myself, "How did this happen. How did I stumble and fail so finitely?", "How did I cause this catastrophy?".

I have no answers. And that will kill me in the end.

Universal health care? I don't know but I wish I had had it.

This will kill me in the end.

It all ready has.

To read other's comments click HERE

Brooksley Born is a Goddess and an American Hero

2009-10-22T13:00:00.007-05:00

I never understood how Wall Street worked and, frankly, I still don’t. For years I watched my stocks go up, down, and then back up. Then, about a year ago, I watched them take a tumble that put fear in my heart. Six months before, I had placed a call to my broker telling him I wanted to cash in some stock and pay off my home because I thought the good times were soon coming to an end. He assured me he was on top of it and would not let that happen. He told me that paying taxes on what I would need to pay it off would be a foolish move. I took him at his word. I did not follow my intuition and now, I am kicking myself. I felt it coming. I saw it coming. I was in the real estate market and I watched as the price of homes skyrocketed. People were buying homes only to sell them a year or two later for almost twice what they originally paid for them. These inflated prices could not go on forever, for after all, what goes up must come down, right? I had never heard of Brooksley Born until last night. Now, after watching “The Warning” on PBS’s FRONTLINE, I think she is a Goddess. Where was Brooksley Born when I needed her? Well, I’m here to tell you!

Brooksie, as she is affectionately called, graduated high school at age sixteen then, received her Bachelor’s in English from Stanford University in 1961, where she had hopes of becoming a doctor. After being told by her guidance counselor, “Any woman interested in becoming a doctor, instead of the more suitable career of a nurse, was merely materialistic and had no sincere interest in healing,” she chose to attend Stanford Law School instead. With only six other women in her class, Brooksie was named president of the Stanford Law Review, being the first woman to hold the editorship of a major law review in the United States. According to FRONTLINE, she received a phone call from the dean letting her know that if the job became too much for her to handle, the university staff was there to catch her when she failed. She didn’t.

Born had a long and distinguished legal career where she focused on international markets and derivatives, a word I had to Google. I suggest you do it, too. She became friends with the Clintons along the way and was interviewed as a possible candidate for Attorney General, but lost out to Janet Reno. As a consolation prize, she was appointed to the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, an independent agency of the United States Government whose mission it is to protect the public from fraud and abusive practices and foster competitive and sound futures and option markets.

Upon becoming chair of the CFTC, Born sought to regulate the derivatives market after her team completed a financial analysis leading them to anticipate the worst crisis since the Great Depression, that would not only affect the American people, but the entire world. We are living this crisis. Why? Because Brooksley Born was not only hushed up, she was shut out by the “Good Ole Boy’s” network headed up by Federal Reserve chairperson, Alan Greenspan and Treasury Secretaries Robert Rubin and Lawrence Summers. All, including SEC Chairman Arthur Levitt, were members of a private assembly known as the President’s Working Group, a group of men Brooksie Born had to meet with on a regular basis. With Greenspan leading the opposition, Born’s recommendations were suppressed and she was forced to resign.

Until recently, Born refused to comment about the fraudulent and unregulated practices leading up to the financial crisis. She, now, talks about how she would wake up in cold sweats at night and says, “The market grew so enormously, with so little oversight and regulation, that it made the financial crisis much deeper and more pervasive than it otherwise would have been.”

Did we learn from our mistake? I fear we did not. Larry Summers, of the “Good Ole Boy” fame, is now one of Obama’s top economic advisers. Summers pocketed over $5 million last year from one of the biggest hedge funds in the world along with another cool $2.7 million for speeches delivered to Wall Street firms who have received government bailout money. Robert Rubin and Timothy Geithner, now United States Secretary of the Treasury who formerly worked under Summers and Rubin, are still very much in the mix. The extent in which lobbyists influence Congress in this country is truly frightening and the Wall Street lobbyists are the scariest of all.

I wish I had followed my instincts and cashed in my stock, but it is too late for regrets. After watching FRONTLINE last night, I do not understand why more of these Wall Street Wizards are not in jail. I personally feel Alan Greenspan, Robert Rubin and Larry Summers should be taken out back and dare I say, executed? Arthur Levitt is the only one that has spoken out in favor of Born. Brooksley Born has finally been vindicated with the advent of FRONTLINE’s “The Warning.” If you haven’t watched it yet, get thee to PBS online immediately!

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/warning/view/

Photo: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/05/25/AR2009052502108.html

What Do You Have On Your Shelves?

2009-09-26T13:34:00.012-05:00

In answer to an Open Salon's Umbrellakinesis Open Call, "What Do You Have On Your Shelves?" I give you this:

I think if you click on the pictures, they will enlarge (don't mind the dust!)

Shelves #1 Hummels and Lladros... Memories of when my children were growing up. All were gifted to me by my ex-husband because they reminded him of our children in one way or another. I am waiting for my kids to take them off my hands, but so far, no takers. I'm thinking e-bay! The vase was given to me by a girlfriend who found it in the attic of the home she purchased.

Shelves #2 The rose plate belonged to my great Aunt Cele along with the woman waving her fan and the tea set at the bottom. The virgins are reminisces of my Catholic years. I still believe in Mother Earth. The steins were gifts from my ex-husband, also, from his travels to Europe.

Shelf #3 More Lladros (gifts from the ex waiting for the children to take). My crystal ball, a music box I purchased at the Music Box Museum in Switzerland when I lived there, glass vases from Venice when I visited, a painting from China and the small box was a gift from my daughter.

Shelf #4 (I have lots of shelves!) My collection of small boxes made in France and England, another music box from Russia and a crystal vase from Sweden (another gift from the ex). He did give nice gifts, didn't he? And, of course, a photo I took of my son.

My rock collection... I'm not sure what all of them are, another music box my mother purchased when she came to visit me in Switzerland. Sadly she died last year. Two toads! One for me and one for my daughter because we are princesses and princesses have to kiss alot of toads before they find their prince!

This picture is for Chuck! My leopard chair! Next to it are three handmade glass boxes and a picture of my Aunt Cele, her sister that passed when she was about 7, and my mother's high school graduation pictures.

I am sick of dusting!!!!! What do you have on your shelves???

What I Have Learned On My Path To Self-Discovery

2009-09-23T15:07:00.013-05:00

These past 5 years, since my divorce I have really, really tried to figure out what it is I want to do with my life. I have been on a voyage of self-discovery and each day I seem to learn something new, for life is constantly changing. It's been crazy... I got divorced, my daughter moved to Africa (she's back now), my son moved away, my step-son moved away, my dog died (two of them), my mother died, then my mother-in-law died and my father has a bit of dementia (to say the least). Each experience brought me new lessons and closer to knowing myself. I have become a hermit basically, only seeing people I choose to see when I choose to see them. I've tried meditating, yoga, writing, painting and photography, looking for a creative outlet. But, an outlet from what, I ask? An escape, maybe? But, an escape from what? Maybe from all the sadness in the last 5 years. Yet, I asked for this. I put it out to the Universe and I got what I asked for. Time alone.... It hasn't been all bad. In fact, it's been quite an awakening. I had never so much as paid a utility bill until 5 years ago, and now I know I can support myself, and very well if I so choose. But, I've been lazy. I now get by on much less that I did 5 years ago, but the upside is that I do not have to work and I've been very fortunate. I think of this time as a gift (mostly from my ex-husband) and I want to make sure I get the most out of it, for as life does.... it may change. But for now, I have been given this wonderful opportunity to be free to be me without reporting or depending on anyone else. I learned I can get by in this old world, being creative and independent. For all of this, I am grateful!!

I read over here at Sweet Indigo Life about how she was reflecting on her life, so I thought I'd do the same.

• I love painting and am so glad I have taken oil painting lessons so I can improve!
• I love visiting an art museum… there are always surprises and awe
• Fall is my favorite season - I love the cool evenings and a crackling fire
• I make the best spaghetti I’ve ever tasted
• Cleaning house is not my forte
• I don’t now how I lived without iTunes
• Writing sets me free
• I believe my kids fucking ROCK! And I love them unconditionally…
• I am thankful that at age 86, my father still has a sense of humor!
• Red wine and I do not get along as well as we used to. Do your feet swell too?
• I need to exercise more and eat less - the older I get, the more I realize how important it is to stay healthy
• Sometimes I wonder if I am waiting for something that doesn’t exist
• I know my mother comes to visit me, even though she’s dead
• Not feeling good enough all those years was a waste of my time, I happen to ROCK!
• One of my favorite things in the world is being able to afford a housekeeper
• I absolutely had to have a Wii, now all it does is collect dust
• Netflix has become my entertainment
• I should mow my lawn more often, but I hate doing it. I'm sure the neighbors aren't happy.
• I treasure my time alone
• I try to live my life through love and not fear
• Sometimes I just want to scream
• I miss skinny dipping
• I should invite more friends over for dinner, or at least a drink
• Yellow tulips are my favorite flower. I love it when they are all wilty and you add fresh water then they come to life
• I need new underwear, but I am too lazy to go out and buy it
• I live to dance
• I find it hard to trust
• I miss my dog, but I don’t want another one – I like my freedom
• I love to travel, but don't do it often enough
• I am a very fortunate person and for that , I am grateful!

Welcome to Peoria Mr. Landesman!!!

2009-09-22T15:35:00.004-05:00

This will teach him to keep his mouth shut!!

NEA head will see Eastlight production of Rent

By GARY PANETTA (gpanetta@pjstar.com)
Journal Star
Posted Sep 22, 2009 @ 03:23 PM
PEORIA —
The National Endowment for the Arts chairman will see a community theater production of “Rent” when he visits central Illinois on Nov. 6.

Rocco Landesman will see the Eastlight Theatre production at East Peoria Community High School’s auditorium as part of a fundraiser that will benefit local not-for-profit arts groups, said Suzette Boulais of ArtsPartners in a news release issued Tuesday.

“For every ticket sold, a portion of the ticket price will go directly to the local nonprofit art organization chosen by the ticket purchaser,” Boulais wrote. “Eastlight’s venue, the Byron Moore Auditorium at East Peoria High School, seats 1100. A sold out house will show Rocco central Illinois’ commitment to the arts, and happily, raise money for those organizations at the same time.”

The rest of Landesman’s agenda while he is in town has not yet been determined. A meeting for arts leaders to discuss plans for Landesman’s upcoming visit will be held at 2 p.m. Monday at ArtsPartner’s offices on 820 SW Adams St.

Landesman’s visit comes several weeks after the NEA head made a critical comment about theater in Peoria to The New York Times.

“I don’t know if there’s a theater in Peoria, but I would bet that it’s not as good as Steppenwolf or the Goodman,” Landesman said in the Aug. 8 article, referring to Chicago theatre mainstays. “There’s going to be some pushback from me about democratizing arts grants to the point where you really have to answer some questions about artistic merit.”

Kathy Chitwood, Eastlight Theatre’s executive director, responded by inviting Landesman to see “Rent.” Landesman accepted the invitation and the community theater will now remount the production especially for Landesman’s visit.

The National Endowment of the Arts did not immediately confirm details of Landesman's visit on Tuesday.

http://www.pjstar.com/homepage/x576517104/NEA-head-will-see-Eastlight-production-of-Rent

Previous Post

I Cannot Wait.......

2009-09-19T03:50:00.002-05:00

To buy this woman's new CD when it comes out in November!!!

I cannot stop listening to her version of this song.... it is absolutely haunting.

Mackinac Island, Michigan - Part Two

2009-09-08T13:38:00.023-05:00

After enjoyed the previous evening's entertainment, Zach and I were pretty excited about attending more of the Jazz Festival events. We got up early, at a scrumptious breakfast at the hotel and I sauntered through the shops downtown while Zach went running and checked out the Esther Williams swimming pool which holds 500,000 gallons of water. Jimmy Durante and Esther Williams made the movie, "This Time For Keeps" back in 1947 at The Grand Hotel and they named the pool after her.

Other movies, such as "Somewhere In Time" starring Jane Seymour and Christopher Reeve, and "The Art Critic" were also filmed here. Five presidents have stayed at the hotel along with a guest list that reads like the "Who's Who" of the entertainment world, including Mark Twain. The history of the hotel is interesting in and of itself, built in 93 days using 600 laborers working 3 shifts a day.

Zach and I meet back up and head out to the enormous lawn where Earl Klugh and his band are starting to play. I had to take a second look at the stage! Front and center stands the man I was chatting with on the ferry. It was Grammy award winner Earl Klugh himself!

After the concert we decide to hike out to the Inn at Stonecliffe, where we had been told you can sit on a large rock and watch the sunset. How far is it? Oh, not far, just a short walk. We hiked through the woods for over three hours. I failed to pack socks so by the time we got back my feet were on fire. I head out to the fire escape for another ciggie and there is the same man I have been smoking with for the last two days sitting one floor above me and this time I recognize him as the keyboard player for Earl Klugh! He tells me how he used to play with the Parliament - Funkadelic!! I am in awe!

Time to rent bicycles to the tune of $94! Zach and I head out on the 8 mile road around the island, stopping here and there to enjoy the views. We get up the nerve to climb the hills to the old cemetery and ride around the hills of the island. When we get back to our room, I slip of my shoes and realize I have on each of my heels, a blister the size of a silver dollar!
I take a shower and a nap. Thank God the dress shoes I brought for dinner were backless. We head down to the main dining room, order our dinner and all of the sudden I don't feel so well. I excuse myself and practically run to the restroom where I spend the next twenty minutes bent over a toilet losing everything I had just eaten. Is there anything more embarrassing? I spend the next 12 hours in bed. Zach is not happy.

When I finally get the nerve to leave my hotel room we mosey out the veranda where I run straight into Dee Dee Bridgewater, whose CDs I've purchased for years. She invites Zach and I to join her at her table and asks us what we think of the hotel. I look at Zach, he looks at me. I comment that I think it's more "colonial" and foo-foo than we had expected. She agrees and said she stays on the mainland where she is more comfortable. I love this woman! She stood up and gave me a big hug when we left.

I stop by the front desk to inform them we will be leaving a day early, Zach wants to get back to Chicago and buy his books before school starts. The clerk tells me there will be a charge of $350 for early check out. Excuse me? I am flabbergasted! I explain to her that my last night was free of charge with the package I had agreed to. She goes into the back room, comes back out and finally says, "No charge." Whew!

Next day, Zach and I get up early and head down to catch our ferry. At this point, we cannot wait to get home. Little did we know that on Labor Day Weekend, the entire state of Michigan shows up in Mackinac to walk the bridge with the Governor. Traffic is backed up for miles. Zach decides to take a nap. I can't find the directions I printed off but I know I need to head south. I follow the car in front of me South on 33. Huge mistake..... 3 hours later I realize I am heading straight for Detroit when I should be heading south on the opposite side of the state.

Zach wakes up. We stop, buy a map, get back on track and land in traffic on 94 where every person from Chicago is trying to get back home. I drop him at his apartment around 7 PM and still have 3 more hours to drive before I finally reach my home destination. He tells me he thought about applying for jobs after school in Michigan but this trip made him think he'd rather be in Colorado.

Though, I am glad I finally went to my dream destination of Mackinac Island, I realize I'm a country girl at heart. I'll look much harder for cabins next time Zach wants to get away for the weekend.

Mackinac Island, Michigan

2009-09-08T10:17:00.028-05:00

I don't remember the first time I heard about The Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island in upper Michigan, but I do remember always wanting to stay there. For years, I've dreamt of visiting this island where the only means of transportation allowed are horses and bicycles. The idea of it seemed so romantic and so relaxing. In pictures it looked so white... so very white and clean... so squeaky clean. This majestic clapboard structure sitting atop a wooded, tree-lined hill at island's edge where it's iconic 660 foot long veranda looks out over beautiful Lake Huron appealed to my senses. I wanted to be one of those smiling people sitting comfortably in a horse-drawn carriage touring the island. I wanted to be one of those happy people riding a bike by water's edge. This past Labor Day weekend, my ~~nightmare~~ dream came true!

I left my home at 4 AM not knowing I was going to be driving for the next three hours in dense fog to pick up my son, Zach, in Chicago. If there's anything I hate, it's driving in fog, especially in the dark. Luckily, as the day set in, the fog disappeared, but traffic out of Chicago was horrendous. Everyone must have had the same idea. It took us over an hour and a half to wind our way to Indiana, but we did not let this damper our spirits. He had always wanted to see Upper Michigan where the tree line changes and I, well... read the first paragraph!

Of course, on the drive up we stop for food and drinks and I take my Hydrochlorothiazide pill. Huge mistake on my part!! We drive for hours before we finally find a lone gas station in a small lakeside town. Zach fills up the car while I run in to find the toilet. What? No toilet? They had sandwiches, pizza, drinks, wooden puzzles for children and loads of beer, but no toilet! The man behind the counter sends us down the street to the local park where I finally find relief!

After another 8 hours in the car, we arrived at the long awaited ferry dock. I hop out of the car, run in to get the schedule for the ferry going to Mackinac Island when the clerk informs me their ferries go to a different island? Huh? I'd printed off the directions, but had obviously failed to read them. Gotta love Mapquest! The ferry I wanted was another 25 miles up the road. Onward and upward we go!

At last, we are sitting on the right ferry to OUR island, my dream island! I start chatting it up with the gentleman sitting next to me and find out we are arriving for the Jazz Festival Weekend to be held at The Grand Hotel! Really? We go back and forth about different festivals we've attended, blah, blah, blah... and we are THERE!

When I made the reservations the girl told me to look for the carriages with Grand Hotel on them and our luggage would be waiting in our rooms after we check in. Now, I've stayed in a lot of hotels over the years and taken transportation from the airport to the hotel and NEVER once paid for that transportation when it had the hotel's name on it. This, however, was not the case on Mackinac Island. We climb into our horse-drawn carriage where a man in red coat tails is at the reins and realize the five gentlemen we are riding up to the hotel with all have tickets and their fee was being waived. I got to handover $10. This was not a good sign of things to come. My all inclusive weekend apparently wasn't as inclusive as I was expecting.

I never thought to ask for a room with a view of the lake and the clerk never thought to ask me if I wanted one, so we had a darling little view of the fire escape, which worked out pretty well since I could hide out there and smoke. Every time I stepped out onto the fire escape there was a man a floor above me who would often be out there too. Again, not being shy, I told him to watch his ashes since I was down below. Again, I chatted it up with another stranger about jazz festivals, blah, blah, blah, thinking... men on this island sure like jazz.

Zach and I dressed for dinner (yes, dressed! Because after 6 PM women have to be in a skirt, dress or pantsuit and men have to wear ties). I didn't inform Zach of that until after we arrived when I whipped out his jacket and tie.) We go down to the restaurant and are seated by a friendly Jamaican man. Interesting, we thought. Then, a waiter, Jamaican, pours our water and asks if we have ever been to the hotel before. Nope.

"Welcome to Jamaica," he laughs.

He was right! Zach and I looked around the room in disbelief. Hundreds of overdressed white people in suits, ties, tuxedos, sparkly dresses, hats, jewelry, and high heels were sitting at white tables all being waited on by black men from Jamaica. The only people sitting were white and the only people standing, were black. It was like something you would find at a southern plantation 100 years ago. I think our jaws dropped.

After dinner, we moseyed through the hotel, following the sound of jazz music. There, on stage were the men with whom we shared our carriage! The Official Band for the Detroit Pistons! The SunMessengers!!

Stayed tuned for more.....

Oil Painting or Kindergarten?

2009-08-20T16:32:00.011-05:00

Last Saturday, I went to my very first oil painting class. First, our instructor, Tracey Frugoli, gave us a demonstration on how she chooses her subject, prepares her canvas, and draws out the picture. During the entire demonstration she shared her techniques, color mixing, and the random thoughts that go through her creative mind while she paints. I have to tell you, the entire process was not only revealing, but very enthralling as well. Her paintings sell for thousands of dollars and I feel quite lucky that she lives in the Peoria area.

This year she is attending at least 5 "en plein air" events across the United States.

After watching her, it was our turn! I chose to paint the river, thinking it would be much easier than the home that over looks the park that she chose. I felt like I was back in kindergarten learning to finger paint all over again! Below is a photo of the view I chose and the last picture shows my attempt at "en plein air."

As you can see, I have a long way to go! But, I am not giving up! This is a hobby that in which I have invested heavily and I love it. Granted, I have much to learn, but I am determined to conquer this hobby.

Toward the end of the class I walked around and viewed the other student's works. Several were VERY talented and gave me pause as to whether or not I was in the right class. Yet, I can't help but feel that being at the bottom will only help me rise to the top sooner. I didn't realize when I signed up for the class that I had missed the color mixing, paint strokes and several other important classes Tracey offered this past Spring. I immediately signed up for these classes which start again in October and last through December. I am hoping by then to be able to show you much improved paintings!

It's crazy all the things one needs to haul out to the chosen site; paints, mediums, brushes, loads of water (because it is hotter than Hell out there), easel, chair, and paper towels, just to name a few things. Then, just after you get all of this set up and you think you are ready to go, you get a call.... yes, I had to pee! Thank God, other students were there to keep their eye on my things. I'm not quite sure what I will do when I take off on my own.

The other problem with painting outdoors is that people passing by feel the need to stand behind you and watch. It was quite unnerving, to say the least. When I get good, however, I pray they come and watch and buy!!!

Will It Play In Peoria, Mr. Landesman?

2009-08-14T13:44:00.006-05:00

This past Friday Rocco Landesman, one of the producers of “The Producers,” was confirmed the new chairman of one of the largest and most important arts organizations in the country, the National Endowment for the Arts. He was nominated by President Obama and was expected to lobby hard for more financing for the arts, which I personally celebrated. He is president of Jujamcyn Theaters, which owns five Broadway houses, and is apparently is quite accustomed to calling the shots. He also earned a doctorate in dramatic literature at the Yale School of Drama and stayed on there for four years as an assistant professor. Though a creature of the for-profit theater, he has put his force behind work that other producers might have considered too risky for Broadway, like Mr. Kushner's Pulitzer Prize-winning play, "Angels in America," and the musical "Jelly's Last Jam." Apparently, he is known for his intellect and also, as something of a maverick. However, as of two days ago when he stuck his foot in his mouth, in Peoria he is now known as something of a dim-wit.

In an interview with the Times he stated, “I don’t know if there’s a theater in Peoria, but I would bet that it’s not as good as Steppenwolf or the Goodman,” both of which are in Chicago. David Bonetti, St. Louis Post-Dispatch art critic, writes that “having the director of the N.E.A. saying that without ever having been there is stupid, just like having a president characterize the behavior of a Cambridge police officer as stupid is stupid. Know what I mean? Let’s insist on evidence, facts before we make judgments, please!”

Landesman also told the Times that “there are some institutions on the precipice that should go over it” and he wants to focus on the best arts organizations throughout the country, regardless of location. But everybody needs the arts, even if it’s not the best art in the country. So what if the Goodman has better theater than the Eastlight Theater in Peoria? Those artists make a valuable economic contribution to their community, which would disappear without funding for the arts. Sometimes bad theater or failures only lead to greater successes, but in order to take risks and make mistakes, you need money.

Art makes us unique and provides a gateway for our souls. I truly believe in government funding for the arts, not just some, but all arts. When people leave their homes to enjoy the theatre are they not spending money at restaurants, paying parking attendants, and hiring babysitters? Every living person has a right to enjoy the arts, and not just those in large communities. If Landesman ignores small towns across the country he is doing those people and people across the country a disservice.

I am here to tell you that his comments didn’t play so well with the Peoria Historical Society, so it invited Landesman to come mingle with the Peorian thespians. Landesman also told the Times that he aims to fund organizations based on artistic merit, a noble goal. However, if he fails to realize that Chicago also has great theater aside from the two giants, other precious storefronts might get screwed. Additionally, if the Steppenwolf and the Goodman are so superior, wouldn't they be self-sustaining? Let’s not start a culture war Mr. Landesman!

I’ll be the first to admit that Peoria, Illinois, isn’t exactly a New York or Chicago metropolis, but we’ve had a lot to offer over the years. Charles Correll, star of Amos and Andy, was born in Peoria, along with Nancy Brinker, founder of Susan G. Komen Foundation for breast cancer awareness, Jack Brickhouse, Richard Pryor, Dan Fogelberg and Betty Friedan are just a few of the famous Peorians I can name. How about Philip Jose Farmer, famous science fiction writer, or Ray LaHood, currently the United States Secretary of Transportation or Robert Michael, the longest serving Republican and Speaker of the House? Does Landesman think we’re a bunch of hillbillies? Ever hear of Gary Richrath from REO Speedwagon, or Matt Savoie, U.S. bronze medalist figure skater? There’s also Aaron Schock, the youngest Representative who is coming out with a spread in GQ magazine. All from Peoria!! How about Archbishop Fulton Sheen, who attended high school with my aunt, or Dan Simmons, a Hugo Award winning author?

Let me remind Mr. Landesman that the term, “Will it play in Peoria?” was created during the height of Vaudeville and Peoria played a major role! Even Groucho Marx used the term in his movies, knowing that if a show was successful in Peoria, it would play anywhere. The saying has become a metaphor for whether something appeals to the American mainstream public.

We have Peoria Players Theatre, The Apollo Theatre, East Light Theatre and the Peoria Civic Theatre as well as theaters throughout our entire school system. Mr. Landesman, now that you have gotten off to a rocky start, I cannot wait until you come to Peoria and eat your words!! I'm also expecting a HUGE donation to our local arts council, but I'm not holding my breath!

What I Have Been Doing Instead of Writing....

2009-08-10T12:07:00.006-05:00

I've never painted with oils before and I certainly have never painted on canvas, only on walls with acrylics. I signed up for some art classes with Tracey Frigoli. I'm very excited! I start next Saturday and thought I'd practice before class starts. Maybe Cartouche can give me some advice! LOL Or maybe I should quit while I'm ahead!!

In Search of Peace and Strength

2009-08-10T09:19:00.007-05:00

I headed down unknown roads in search of peace

I found a circus in the middle of a bean field

Is this a sign?

I meditated

I saw beauty

And the beast...

I felt God's power

I reached new heights

I traveled many walkways

And sat beside cool waters

I honored my family

I learned to fly

And then to soar...

FIRSTS.......

2009-08-01T13:06:00.044-05:00

1. Who was your FIRST prom date?

Gary Beard and he is still at the same high school over 30 yrs later! He’s the football coach!

Check this out! Peoria High School is the same high school as the one in "The Simpsons!" The cartoonist went to my high school!

2. Who was your FIRST love and do you still talk with him/her?

I fell in love in kindergarten with Johnny Parkhurst, and yes, we talk. Every girl in the class loved him. He’s married to another musician and comes back to Peoria to play at least once a year. About 20 people we graduated with always show up.

3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?

Southern Comfort……. Ewwwwwww! Southern Comfort, not so comforting. I cannot drink it nor smell it to this day!

4. What was your FIRST job?

I did some babysitting, but my first job in the real world was at the Fox Theatre as a concession girl. My parents did not want me to work, but I was in love with the ticket-taker. I remember some little twit kid pushed the butter melter off the counter and into the candy. Have I told you how much I despise parents who drop their kids off at movie theatres so they can have a babysitter?

5. What was your FIRST car?

Vega... Green on the outside, tan on the inside. Don’t ask me what I was thinking….

6. Who was the FIRST person to text you today?

My daughter texted me at 12:31 AM. She and her hubby arrived in Banff safe and sound! How jealous am I????

7. Who was the FIRST person you thought of this morning?

My father…… I need to go see him today. (And I did)

8. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?

Mrs. Rassmussen… She gave me a D in conduct. It seems I couldn’t stay in my seat. If I felt the need to talk to someone on the other side of the room apparently I didn’t have any qualms about doing so. I’ve always had antsy pants!

9. When and where did you go on your FIRST plane ride?

Ozark Airlines! I flew to New Orleans from Peoria stand-by. I flew A LOT of places stand-by since I worked for the airline.

10. Who was your FIRST best friend and do you still talk?

Mary Jane, and yes, we still see each other about every other month and talk at least once a month. We’ve been best friends for 50 yrs now and we even have daughters the same age. My best friend, Nikki, and I have been friends since high school. Our mothers even went to high school together.

11. Where was your FIRST sleepover?

My Aunt Cele’s apartment in her Murphy bed! She had color television and it was great.

12. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?

My daughter. I called her when I received her text message at 12:30 AM.

13. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time?

Jean DeLuca, when I lived in Cleveland. I hated that dress!

14. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?

Peed…. Then had melon and cottage cheese.

15. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?

Mountain! Bradley University 1970!(so much better than Bread!)

16. FIRST tattoo?

Nope….

17. FIRST piercing?

Ears…. I was 16

18. FIRST foreign country you’ve been to?

Canada. I went to see Niagra Falls.

19. FIRST movie you remember seeing in the theater?

Ben-Hur. My Aunt Cele took me and it was in one of those old movie theatres that was amazing inside. I was in awe.

20. FIRST detention you had?

High school… talking, always talking! I hadn’t found my written voice yet, apparently.

21. What was the FIRST state you ever lived in?

By the rivers gently flowing, Illinois, Illinois…..

22. If you had three wishes, what would be the FIRST one?

Idiots who harm children in any way what-so-ever would be automatically zapped into outer space and burned.

23. What is the FIRST thing you would learn if you had the chance?

How to drive a motorcycle.

24. What was the FIRST pet?

Mike and me

Spiritual Journey

2009-07-23T19:19:00.028-05:00

Tomorrow I take my leave so that I may embark upon a spiritual journey.

Am I searching for my old self or a rebirth of sorts?

I know not what I shall find or exactly where my search will lead,

but I go knowing I will receive an answer.

I will be meditating every day and showing gratitude

I will be eating only foods that are healthy for my mind, body and spirit

I will be drinking loads of water to quench my thirst and energize myself

I am quitting cigarettes!!

I will be writing, and writing, and writing – even hauling out “My Book!”

And I will be exercising like there is no tomorrow!

I will be drinking tea instead of coffee

I will be silent

I will be spending time with nature

Paint like Jackson Pollock!

I will perhaps, paint again

I will read I know not what, with the help of Divine Intervention

No phone, no computer, no television and no OS!!

See you in two weeks!! Unless of course,
I decide to make it three… I’ll see where my spirit guides me!

Peace And Gratitude In My Blue World

2009-07-17T15:32:00.019-05:00

The Universe Pays It's Respect While Mother Earth Mourns

2009-07-15T18:32:00.008-05:00

Last night, 2 AM, I lay in bed wide-awake listening to the roar of thunderous clouds overhead. Then, came the slow plop-plop of raindrops against my windows and on my roof just before the sky let loose its cascade of heartrending tears. I knew at that moment, she was dead. There was no way in Hell she was going to go quietly. Peacefully, yes, but quietly… never. While Earth mourned her passing the Universe rejoiced by blazing bolts of lightning across the night sky in her honor. My entire room was awash in light. I would swear I heard her opening my bedroom door. Margaret, my ex-mother-in-law, came to say good-bye... or was it hello? A woman I loved, almost as deeply as my own mother, crossed over last night at the age of 96 and Mother Earth was grieving her loss.

She came to the United States from Germany with her parents and two brothers, none able to speak English. Her younger brother died of Scarlet Fever before he was ten. She labored on the family farm, attending school until she was old enough to work as a housemaid in a very elegant and affluent home in the nearest city, during a time when servants actually used the back stairs to the kitchen. This is where she met her future husband, Herb, of over sixty-five years. He only had an eighth-grade education, but together they worked hard, raised two boys and became millionaires. She never owned a fur coat. She never wore expensive jewelry. They lived in a modest home. They saved their money and were more than generous with it when times were good, helping us pay for our daughter’s out-of-state college tuition. Herb died about fifteen years ago, but she would often see him standing by her bedside at night saying, “I’m here to remind you.”

Marge had more class in her little finger than I could ever have in my entire body. My mother and she would talk for hours about their grandchildren. In the thirty years I knew her, she never swore or raised her voice in anger, but you knew where you stood with her. She was always, always good to my children. She was everything you would want your grandmother to be. Homemade cookies sat on her kitchen counter for every visit. Toys were kept in her basement, closets and toy chests for her grandchildren’s pleasure. She volunteered at church, making books in Braille for the blind. She cooked food for the sick and the dying. At the ripe old age of 82, she joined a health club so she could swim laps and walk the track. She lifted free weights until the age of 94. She lived to see her great-grandchildren into their teenage years. She was truly the Matriarch of the family, strong and unyielding, yet loving and kind.

When my son was born he was rushed to surgery within two hours of his birth. Marge stayed with me every minute, never leaving my side, even after we received word that he was going to live. She sat with my daughter, four at the time, on her lap for hours on end, keeping her entertained. When I had a miscarriage she came to my home and for the first time in her life, shared her own story. Up until that time, no one in the family but her husband knew she had also lost a child.

My children were in town last weekend to see her for what turned out to be the last time they would see her alive. Halfway through their two-hour visit Marge realized she hadn’t applied her lipstick and proceeded to do so. The nurses said she was the only patient on the floor who even brought lipstick, let alone wore it every day. My daughter said, “It remarkably changed her appearance. Leave it to Grandma!”

She looked frail and tiny; her arms completely bruised from failed attempts at inserting IV needles. She complained that this was the longest she had ever gone without getting her hair done and it was bothering her. She wanted to take part in active conversation, but didn’t have the breath to contribute. She definitely seemed more torn up over the fact that they were seeing her with her hair undone and no make-up than the fact she was having trouble breathing, just one of the many traits that we all love about her. My children told her that she had been an inspiration to all her grandchildren and that she is the strongest woman they had ever known. She thanked them and told them that it meant a lot to her.

Leaving the hospital room on Saturday, my son and daughter turned and blew good-bye kisses in her direction. Their Grandmother’s last words to them; “I love you. Have a good life.”

My heart hurts…

National Geographic, Tom Mabe and Leaping Asian Carp!

2009-07-08T12:05:00.020-05:00

Not a Jet Ski!

Large, leaping Asian Carp soars out of the Illinois River and smacks man in the head, knocking his ass right off his Jet Ski!! I kid you not! The man had to be rescued when he lost control of his Jet Ski and started sinking into the murky waters of the river. It was the poor guy’s first time out on his hotsy-totsy Jet Ski! Can you imagine? You’re cruisin’ along, enjoying the sites and sounds of beautiful Peoria (really, it isn’t so bad here, really!) and then all of the sudden, BAM! You get slapped right upside the head by a stinking, flying fish and upended! Whoa! The man and his machine had to be towed into shore. Pays to carry your cell phone with you everywhere you go, huh?

We have a wee bit of a problem here on the Illinois River with Asian Carp, so much so, that (get this) National Geographic is coming to town to film The Fifth Annual Redneck Fishing Tournament (yes, you read that correctly). Freakin’ National Geographic!! Well, they aren’t really coming to Peoria, (though they have to pass through) but to the lovely town of Bath (yes, Bath). Rednecks in (a) Bath! I used the Word Thesaurus to find another word for “redneck.” There weren’t any! Total population of Bath, Illinois – 294! 144 males, 155 females. Median age – 33 yrs. Average income around $30,000. Three registered sex-offenders. White – non-hispanic – 96 %, go figure! What else do these people have to do but fish and fuck? Definitely the makings of a small town full of rednecks with fishing boats!

Canadian biologist Becky Cudmore holds aloft an Asian silver carp that jumped into the boat.

Here is the article in my local newspaper which explains how it all started better than I ever could.

“What started as an offbeat contest to catch the most Asian carp, redneck-style, has evolved into a phenomenon that's caught the attention of National Geographic and a nationally known comedian.

The fifth annual Redneck Fishing Tournament will float into this small Mason County town Friday and Saturday and with it bring costumed revelers ready to net some flying fish in freakish, flamboyant fashion.

"It's brought worldwide attention to the problem," said event organizer Betty DeFord, referring to the silver Asian carp that have multiplied in massive numbers in the Illinois River and threaten to destroy the ecosystem of native fish.

Each year, anglers dress in outlandish costumes and take to the water with large dip nets hung over the sides of their boats catching the "flying" carp in mid-air as they jump out of the river.

In addition to the competition, which gives cash prizes for the largest number of fish caught, are numerous raffles, prizes and games.

But what's different this year is the fact that National Geographic will be on hand filming the event to air as a national television special.

"National Geographic was here two years ago," DeFord said.

Film crews were in the area on an unrelated shoot, when they caught a glimpse of the tournament and the unique flying fish.

"They decided they wanted to come back and do a bigger special."

Previous years have brought CBS World News, a Japanese film crew and visitors from nearly every state in the country to witness the organized chaos.

Comedian Tom Mabe, host of Mabe in America on CMT but perhaps better known for his comedy based on taking revenge on telemarketers, will be participating in the tournament this year.

"We met him at the comedy club in Mason City," DeFord said. "He was intrigued by it."

A raffle will be held for two people to be guests on Mabe's boat and a chance to be on national television, DeFord said.

Other raffles include a new 16-foot Jon boat with motor and trailer. The event also will feature a free fishing tournament for children with prizes for all, monster truck rides, food, live music, beer and more.

The Little Miss and Master Redneck pageant for children ages 2 to 7 will be held Saturday.

"They can dress them as rednecks or dress them in their Sunday best," DeFord said.

DeFord also manages the Boat Tavern on First Street, which serves as headquarters for the event.

Entrance is $2 each day, per person at the gate. The first fishing heat begins at 1 p.m. Friday.”

So, if you’re in the area, come on down!

You just might get to meet

Comedian Tom Mabe

and see yourself in

National Geographic!

Living Vicariously Through Friends With Money

2009-07-06T21:34:00.012-05:00

Thanks to my darling niece-in-law and her family I had the most spectacular, much needed, relaxing, fun weekend! Take a peek...

Pseudo MAWB Compound

To The Lake!

Take Me! (MAWB's Pseudo Doggie)

My Dream Cottage

Studly Nephew #2 & His Gorgeous Gal

Beautiful Niece-in-Law & Her Mom, Our Gracious Hostess with the Mostest!

Our Gracious Host With The Most

Son & His Cousins

Skiing!!

Studly Linebacker Nephew #1

Love of My Life

We Had Visitors

Farewell to an Eventful Weekend

I took 758 photos, came home and uploaded, then realized there weren't any of moi! Next time I need to hand the camera to someone else! It was a fabulous weekend! Thank you to my hosts for sharing your fabulous life with me this past weekend!

Web Site Story

2009-07-01T01:40:00.003-05:00

My daughter sent this to me this afternoon. Women, get our your high heels and your flouncy skirts! Men, get out your t-shirts and pencil leg pants! It's a take off from one of my favorite all time movies! I thought it was hilarious so I just had to share. I figured it would lighten things up with all the bad news we've had lately. Have a great 4th of July weekend everyone! Be safe!

I'm outta here!!

But, I'll be back!

Happy 4th of July, Everyone!

Thanks to collegehumor.com

Mark Sanford's Mistress PHOTOS!!

2009-06-26T02:33:00.026-05:00

Photos from Bitten & Bound and Gawker

The number one search on Google right now? Michael Jackons? Noooooooo.... Farrah Fawcett? Noooooooo... It's Maria Belen Chapur Photos! And I've got them right here! Argentine media is reporting today that Gov. Mark Sanford’s mistress is a 43-year-old divorced mother of two boys. Videos of a trendy Buenos Aires apartment house were shown on several news channels and, I have to say, that it was quite beautiful. Apparently she speaks English, Portuguese and Chinese and attended private schools. (Well la de da!) Media is saying they met eight years ago and after becoming remarkably good friends, (I'd say so) Sanford and Maria became intimate last year. Racy private e-mails are popping up all over the net that were supposedly leaked by her jilted and angry ex-husband. (Hellooooo! Password protect)

Mark (aka AWOL Sanford) is currently married to Jenny Sanford, whose millionaire family owns Skil power tool company. (Isn't there some horror movie about this?) They have four sons. (That are going to be very pissed off and humiliated) “The bottom line is this,” he said. “I have been unfaithful to my wife.” (No duh, Sherlock!)

I guess we all know by now his staff lied (Not hiking the 2,100 mile Appalachian Trail?) and rumors abound he used taxpayer money to bop down to Argentina. (No surprise there) (And get this) According to Williams Jones, president of Columbia International University, Mr. Sanford and his wife joined an intensive Bible study group in the last few months. (A very Republican thing to do) It's told that as a congressman he slept on a futon in his office. (I just bet he did) He also hauled in two live piglets onto the floor of the legislature to showcase his opposition to pork-barrel spending. (Swine?)

Sanford was supposedly the top GOP contender for the next presidential race. (A Sanford/Palin ticket?) He has now apologized to his wife and children for lying, cheating and spending 5 days in Argentina crying his eyes out. (Don't Cry For Me... you know the rest) He recently refused $700,000,000 of stimulus money for his state. (I'm sure his constituents really love 'em now) And no one knows if this affair is over yet. (Me thinks he's still crying)

I'm thinking, especially after reading Barbara O'Brien, and Procopius, the state of affairs (No pun intended) of our politicians is whacked! Next thing you know, the ONLY person left to run for GOP election will actually be Rush Limbaugh! (Limbaugh/Coulter? BRING IT!!!!)

Oprah Defends Michael Jackson

2009-06-25T20:39:00.009-05:00

Oprah, she’s a fine tuned instrument. Three or four years ago I had the opportunity to be an audience member. You are never told in advance who or what the show is going to be about until you are in settled in your seats. I am sure some guests were in the know from friends or relatives who work for Oprah, but I was not one of the privileged ones. Rumors were whispered through the waiting room that we had just missed the exciting and unforgettable taping of Tom Cruise jumping on the sofa. Sigh! My friend and I check in at the front desk and are ushered into a waiting room, apparently until all who are on the list arrive. Then, we are ushered into another waiting room and we wait…. and wait. Finally, we are allowed to enter her hollowed kingdom and the race is on to grab your seat. Women were running down the hallway, around the stage and snatching seats next to the isle Oprah, herself, will soon walk down in all her glory to announce her show, the final show of the year.

“Sports & Parents Living Vicariously Through Their Children” is what we were all told. A silence fell over the crowd, a deafening silence. I, for one, was more than a little disappointed. No gifts. No movie stars. No famous authors. Oh well. I’m still gonna be on Oprah!

Families and their children are escorted to the front of the auditorium and called up on stage one by one to be interviewed by the Queen of Daytime TV. Videos are played of fathers yelling, screaming and forcing their five year old sons to run laps, do push ups and lift weights. Mothers are shown hauling their young daughters to cheerleading practice, dance class and acrobats. Kids were crying. Parents were exasperated their children were not performing at Olympic intensity. I have watched Oprah since 1986 and there is one thing I know for sure; she doesn’t like parents living vicariously through their children.

Finally, one burly man from the front stood up along with his son and he explained to Oprah that he was managing his family the exact way Joe Jackson ran his. His kids were going to be famous, too! Well, let me tell you what happened next. All Hell broke loose! The Queen started yelling. She came marching down off the stage, into the audience and got in that man’s face like I have never seen before. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there and took it. What choice did he have? I was seated in the back of the auditorium and, frankly, she scared me, too!

“Do you have any idea what Joe Jackson did to his family? To his children?” and on and on she went about how abusive he was, how much those children had endured under his hand and no one, absolutely no one, should EVER try to emulate Joe Jackson. She continued railing about what Michael Jackson’s father had done to him and no child should ever live through that kind of torture again. Finally, she turned and walked back to her seat. The man and his son quietly sat down. Oprah was still going off about how this was her last show and she couldn’t believe she was dealing with this business. We sat there stunned. The interviews soon ended. Oprah announced there would be no “After Show” as she waved good-bye and marched off stage to her dressing room. The entire incident left me feeling quite empty and sad for the Jackson family.

I couldn’t wait to see the show when it aired, but of course, the confrontation had been cut. To this day, I will never forget Oprah standing up in defiance over anyone believing the Jackson children had a happy childhood. Good for her. On this day, the day of Michael Jackson’s death, say what you will about how strange he was, but never forget that through all his ups and downs, his genius shone through.

Michael Jackson

August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009

Ode To Farrah Fawcett

2009-06-25T15:09:00.020-05:00

Farrah Fawcett

February 2, 1947 – June 25, 2009

This was my attempt at the lovely Farrah Fawcett hair do.

Hard as I tried it just never came off as eloquently as hers.

But, she was the icon of the 1970s and her hair was all the rage.

Well, okay, it wasn't just her hair, but much more.

Her entire being sparkled.

Every man or boy I knew wanted that woman.

Her famous posters hung in every store and in every boy's bedroom.

Her beauty took my breath away.

Even girls with short hair tried to emulate her, as you can tell from my sister's hair cut.

Mostly all of us just ended up with wings sprouting out of

head that never quite came off as miraculously as Farrah's

luscious locks.

Yet, she remains a piece of my childhood that will forever be a

part of my photo albums as I gave it my all at trying to look like

Farrah.

I cannot look at my photos without thinking of her.

Thanks for the memories!

Dirty Haiku Thursday! Mark Sanford's Lust

2009-06-25T02:55:00.019-05:00

Lusting her hot sauce

Sultry Argentine hot spice

Scorching, scalding – OUCH!

JibJab's Barack Obama e-card.... You Gotta See It!

2009-06-22T00:09:00.003-05:00

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Oooooh! Lookie What I Got!!

2009-06-19T22:10:00.012-05:00

I'm so excited!! While in Chicago this weekend I stopped by a mall and picked up some flowering tea!!

The water is boiling!

I add the flowering strawberry tea

And I watch the magic...

Then enjoy!

Thank you Alice in Paris loves Art and Tea because I saw it on your blog first! I was coveting the idea of all the serenity and beauty and I had to have some!

Hindu Temple In Aurora, Illinois

2009-06-19T12:39:00.013-05:00

Six months ago I was cruising down Interstate 88 through Aurora, Illinois in search of the outlet mall. Out of the corner of my eye I spy this amazing temple structure that looked as if it were carved from butter. I nearly slammed on my breaks to get a better view. Immediately, I sought an exit. Between the insane construction, the intense 80 mph traffic and my being unfamiliar with the area, it became impossible. I continued traveling on down the road, vowing to return and investigate this place that seemed so out of place in the suburbs of Chicago.

I was so drawn to this building I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Yesterday, while driving my son back to Chicago, we had the opportunity to actually visit the temple, learn about its history and view the interior.

Known as The Sri Venkateswara Swami Temple, or “Balaji Temple,” building began in 1986 after nine Hindu families donated the 20 acres of land where the temple now sits. Walking up to the shrine from the parking lot, you become very much aware of a sense of beauty and sanctity. Elaborate architectural motifs adorn the entire building inside and out. The traditional Indian design consists of a central space flanked by colorful deity shrines on either side where offerings of fruit and flowers are displayed. Events are celebrated and marked with upbeat music, vibrant decorations and flamboyant feasts consisting of traditional Indian foods of all kinds. Many of these treats are sold inside the temple when you first enter.

It also becomes obvious that tradition is important and respected here. We were immediately asked to remove our shoes upon entering the temple. Inside, women were dressed in gorgeous silk saris, as were some of the men who sat in meditation and prayer. I am not familiar enough with the religion to tell you anything more about the deities or what goes on inside, other than the fact that we were welcomed with open arms. We were also not asked for donations, though I made one freely. I was allowed to carry my camera inside, but asked not to take pictures. The fun part for me was that my son has traveled throughout Indonesia, including Thailand and Angkor Wat, so he was able to give me a bit of information regarding some of the religious practices.

I have to tell you that I am in the middle of reading “Eat, Pray, Love” for the 4th time and I felt very Liz Gilbert!

If I Buy These Jeans Will This Happen To Me?

2009-06-17T15:40:00.005-05:00

Once again, a new sexually titillating ad campaign from Calvin Klein strikes a nerve. In New York City’s Soho neighborhood the ad, featuring a topless young woman engaged in kissing a young man while lying on top of another while yet another young man lies on the floor with his pants unbuttoned, adorns the side of an entire 5 story tall building. Some people find the ad so disgusting they are promising to boycott the jeans. The ad is so blatant one man told ABCNews, “If it were going on in the back of a parked car with steamed windows I would be arrested, yet they broadcast this to the whole city.”
Calvin Klein has a history of generating provocative ads that have caused havoc. There was the 1981 Brooke Shields ad in which she stated that nothing comes between her and her Calvins and last year, another banned ad featuring Eva Mendes exposing part of her nipple. The same photographer for controversial Abercrombie & Fitch shot the actor mark Wahlberg and Brook Shields ads. Other ads were dropped because television stations refused to air them and the FBI investigated the company for potential child pornography charges.
Younger generations have always had more tolerant views of sexuality often declaring, “the more the merrier.” One young adult even declared, "All I can see are beautiful people having a good time…It's not the advertising that makes little children confused, it's the uptight handling with sex-related issues in general of their parents."
Yet, others say it pushes the envelope and is disgusting, vile, obscene, an orgy and pornography that you cannot turn off because it is on the side of a building and not on television. This is an ad that you cannot hide from. You are walking down the street with your four year old or your ten year old and it is staring you in the face. In my opinion, it’s inappropriate and depicts a girl willing to compromise her integrity for a pair of jeans.
Is this my age speaking? Am I really that out of touch with what is going on sexually with young adults? I lived in Europe where nude television and magazine ads are common. I remember being shocked at first, but became very comfortable with it after a short time. Yet, I would not want my daughter to appear in the ad nor would I want her to experience sex without love. And, I ask, why one woman and three men? Why not one man and three women or two men and two women? Maybe it is the thought of gang rape that scares me, but she seems to be participating willingly. I am a person who loves sex, cherishes it even. I feel it is a gift we give to one another. I am also a person who has a collection of banned books because I do not believe in book banning. Now, I am second-guessing myself and asking how far am I willing to go for censorship?

Take a look for yourself and tell me what you think…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvOJzxTyK88

Starved Rock State Park, Vacation or Ghost Hunt? UPDATED 10-28-09

2009-06-12T13:53:00.024-05:00

I’m heading to Starved Rock State Park this weekend; miles of hiking trails, beautiful scenery, great food, and picturesque waterfalls. Ah, the great outdoors! This park fascinates me, plus it’s a wonderful opportunity for picture taking. The lodge was built in the 1930s, by the Civilian Conversation Corps, thanks to Franklin Roosevelt and the New Deal. I’ve even stayed in one of the log cabins located just outside the lodge and I’ve experienced the tranquility of a massage in the spa cabin. I’ve relaxed in the whirlpool by the indoor pool and taken a load off my feet while sitting in an oversized chair in the great room next to the massive stone fireplace, ensconced in a book. It is the perfect get-a-way!

Created when glaciers masked this area, Starved Rock boasts 18 canyons, four miles of majestic sandstone bluffs and fascinating rock formations. My favorite local legend is of two young lovers. Forbidden to marry by the chiefs of their tribes and unable to live without one another, they climbed the largest rock, joined hands and leapt to their deaths in the turbulent Illinois River waters below. Now, I ask you, how romantic is that?

French explorers passed through this region and several Native American tribes called it home. Starved Rock derives its name from an old legend of vengeance where two Indian tribes surrounded the bluff area of the park, denying food and water to the Illiniwek, starving them in retribution for murdering Pontiac, chief of the Ottawa. Tourists are encouraged to use extreme caution when hiking the trails year round. Years ago, I was never afraid to go there alone, but now that I’m older, I flat out refuse. Seriously, it seems at least once a year someone falls to their death off the exact bluff where the Illiniwwek supposedly died. But, for me, this isn’t the worst of it.

In the dead of a cold March winter, in the year 1960, three middle-aged, vacationing, socialite women seeking tranquility, drove down from Chicago, leaving behind their husbands and children, so they could enjoy a few days of nature and friendship. They lunched in the same dining room I often eat, then, taking the same path I often walk, wandered more than a mile into the woods, down winding trails in search of frozen waterfalls. Two days later, Frances Murphy, Mildred Lindquist and Lillian Oetting, were found murdered in St. Louis Canyon where two of the women had been raped. Wrists tied with twine, all were stabbed numerous times and bludgeoned in the head so badly they were hardly recognizable.

You will find Steve Stout’s accurate and in-depth book, “Starved Rock Murders,” for sale in the gift shop. I called Steve and spoke to him for about an hour last week, after I realized the murderer was up for parole again. He told me about other rapes and robberies occurring during the same time period at Starved Rock and Mathieson State Park, right up the road, which police believed were also the handy work of the killer. He went on to inform me this crime forever changed forensics across the nation. Steve explained that a recent four-inch snowfall covered any tracks, making it nearly impossible for police to uncover evidence of the crime. Liquid petroleum gas tanks had to be hauled into the canyon to help slowly melt the fallen snow.

A lodge employee, Chester Weger, finally confessed to the murders, but later recanted stating he had been coerced and threatened with the electric chair by detectives responsible for the investigation. His statement was taken in the pre-Miranda days and no lawyer had been present during his interrogation. Weger is serving a life sentence and has been trying to get his case re-opened, asking the Governor of Illinois to dig up the bodies of these three women so DNA testing could be conducted, since it was not available at the time of the murders. The families of these women have fought this request and so far, the Governor has sided with them.

To this day, many people do not believe that Chester Weger acted alone in this brutal murder, but it seems to me, after serving more than 47 years behind bars, he would have come up with the name of his accomplice. This hasn’t happened.

I know it seems hard to believe that one man could murder three women, but you must realize, I come from the city where Richard Speck was tried and found guilty of murdering eight student nurses. With all the craziness going on in the world today, I feel much safer walking into the woods with a companion, preferably one that knows martial arts and isn’t into auto-erotic asphyxiation.

Photo of two of the victims taken just before heading out on the trails
that fateful day and photo of police investigation.
Thank you to Steve Stout for photos.

Starved Rock Killer Seeks Parole UPDATE 10-28-09

MOUNT STERLING —

Chester Weger, the so-called “Starved Rock Killer,” on Wednesday told a state parole official that he deserves to be freed from prison after more than 40 years because he isn’t guilty.

Weger and five of his family members made their case to Prisoner Review Board member Thomas Johnson, who conducted the board’s customary interview of an inmate seeking parole. The full board will decide later whether to grant the request.

Weger was convicted of beating Lillian Oetting to death in 1960 at Starved Rock State Park near Utica. The suburban Chicago woman had gone to the park with Frances Murphy and Mildred Lindquist. All three bodies were found in St. Louis Canyon.

Authorities have said they believe Weger, who was a dishwasher at the park, killed all three woman, but he was convicted only in Oetting’s death.

But questions have been raised about whether Weger committed the crime. His sister, Mary Pruett, said Wednesday that people have been “coming out of the woodwork” with information that could help her brother and should have been disclosed long ago.

My Mother Showed Up Yesterday Afternoon… Crazy Thing Though, She’s Dead!

2009-06-06T13:28:00.003-05:00

Think what you will, but she paid me a visit and she had a message for me, which I am still trying to decipher. Well, honestly, I think she had several messages for me. I’ll start at the beginning.

My mother died a year ago of lung cancer. I stopped smoking for 23 years, but started again after my divorce. I have tried to quit off and on, but currently, I am smoking. Two other times she has visited me in my dreams that I can remember. In one, she was standing in my office pointing at the small leak in my ceiling, which I had repaired, telling me to get a new roof. I did.

As you know from reading my previous posts, my father sees her often around the home he shared with her for almost 60 years. My son saw his dead Grandfather standing in our hallway. My daughter sees entities, also. Suffice it to say, many people in my family can and do see dead people, even while they are awake. I do not. They come to me in my sleep, yet these dreams are like no others. These are so real, so very vivid, that when I awake I actually look around to see if that person is still there. I had a friend die at the age of 36, who came to me for months with messages for her devastated husband, which I relayed until I finally asked her to stop. She did.

Yesterday, during my nap, she came. My mother, my sister and some friends all checked in to the most beautiful hotel I had ever stayed. More grand than the Drake on Lake Shore Drive, more grand than the Pfister in Milwaukee, more grand even, than the Hotel Gritti Palace in Venice. There were marble floors and columns, ornate gold designs throughout, cream-colored walls and oriental carpets. It was opulent, a far cry from what I could possibly afford.

The bellboy accompanied us down lavish hallways to our room. My sister and I donned our swimming suits and left for the pool while my mother stayed behind. Gone but a few minutes, my sister and I argued. I immediately returned to the room and cried to my mother.

“She always does this! She is so condescending!”

“I know.”

“She is the most self-centered bitch I have ever met!”

“I know.”

“She pulls this shit every fucking time!”

“ I know. It will be okay,” my mother replies calmly, “It will be okay.”

My mother takes a drag off of her cigarette when there is a knock at the back door of our room, a door I didn’t notice before. I start down the long hall towards the door, bedrooms line the hall along the way. It opens to a busy street before I can get there and a young chambermaid walks in, handing me a blanket or jacket I left at the front desk. I am upset she didn’t use the front door and that our privacy has been exposed to the street.

I return to the pool joining my girlfriend and her two small children. I tell her about the conversation I had with my mother. She looks at me strangely, “But… your mother is dead.”

“No, she was there! She was in the room, I talked to her.” I suddenly realize my mistake and fall to my knees sobbing so hard I can hardly catch my breath.

We decide to leave the area and while walking around the edge of the pool, her youngest son falls into the deep end of the water. I jump in to save him. Her second son falls in. Now ,all the adults are in the pool trying to save the children. I grab the hand of the smallest child, trying to pull him up from the depths of the pool. I cannot. It is like he is stuck in cement. My sister shows up next to me and grabs his other hand. As if by magic, her touch brings the child up and out of the water.

I wake up. I am lying on my living room sofa, still sobbing and trying to catch my breath. I look around trying to see her, my mother, but I cannot.

I know she came to visit me yesterday afternoon, but crazy thing… she’s dead.