More

I have seen my surgeon, and he said there is not much he can do at this point except a biopsy on the liver to see where the primary cancer is. His best guess is the pancreas. I had a CT scan and looking at the images were pretty scary. Right now, we are working on controlling the pain and nausea.

I have my biopsy next week, so hopefully that will let me begin treatments. I saw my oncologist, and she is wonderful. She was very supportive, and hopefully she can slow the progression some. Sometimes when I am alone now, I worry about dying. Not so much a fear, but the mess EJ will have to deal with.

I reached out to my brother and sister. My brother told me I should talk to my family, and I thought well I thought you were my family. I thought wrong, I guess. I really don't have any close friends up here in the northern neck of VA. Most of the people I care about live in Smithfield, and West Virginia. I need someone to talk to, of course, but there is no one. I can, of course, again, talk to EJ, but maybe its best I let him deal with all of this in a way that is comfortable to him.

I feel alone, but its my fault that I am alone.

Bragging Rights

I think I called myself a cancer survivor one too many times. I have recently been diagnosed with metastatic colon cancer. It is already in my liver. I am frightened, and not really believing it all right now. I will have a CAT scan tomorrow to determine the extent of the cancer. The next day I will see a surgeon, and the next week, an oncologist.

I can't bring myself to tell my son yet. I don't have life insurance. Doesn't that beat all, huh? I have considered becoming a body donor after I pass to MCV. I will have to get some insurance but I will have to survive for at least 2 years. I would like to live much longer of course, but the odds are against me.

I hope it will be possible for me to have surgery to remove it all, even if they can only give me a bottle of whisky and a stick to bite on. I have heart disease, so I'm not sure how all this will work out now.

My first go-round with colon cancer was back in 1995, just after I had turned 40. I tolerated the surgery and the chemo well. I didn't receive my full course of treatments, though. My husband, bless his heart, decided it was time to quit his job and move to Georgia. I had stopped working at this point, so the timing wasn't the greatest, but that's the way it goes sometimes.

I think I am more frightened for my son, EJ, than myself. He lives with me and has done so pretty much since my youngest son died in Iraq. I just don't know how to tell him.

More later.

Linda

My sister, Linda Jean, died today. I can't process this. I know she is gone, and I know she is with God, somehow, someway, however it is when we close our eyes for the last time in this life and awake to what comes. I feel so empty.

I know her children are grown, and now have to make difficult decisions. I pray for them. I feel for them.

I will not be able to attend her funeral, and that seems so wrong. However, that is how it is. I will miss her very much. We didn't talk that often, but we did talk, and she did read this blog.

Growing up, Linda was always laughing. She seemed to have the wonderful ability to see the absurd in everyday life, and find the humor there. When I was eight, I watched her breastfeed her baby in absolute awe and wonder. I said, "I didn't know you could do that." She replied, "Well, what did you think they were for?" I said, "Decoration." I made up my mind that if I ever had a baby, I would breastfeed it. And I did.

When she moved to California, we would talk maybe every few years. Somehow, we kept in touch. I am glad I talked with her. I'm glad she knew that I loved her.

Around the year 2000, she came home for a visit, with her husband, Hank. He was a genuine Indian Chief. Of course, we talked and laughed. We got a big kick out of listening to my father, who couldn't hear, and his brother Tommy, who couldn't hear either, have two different conversations at the same time. Every so often they would look at each other and say, "Yep."

She joined the marines after high school, and married a Sergeant. That didn't last long, as I recall. She married a mechanic, then a Merchant Marine, and lastly, an Indian Chief. I think that's pretty impressive.

She followed her own path all her life. No matter what anyone thought, she did what her heart told her to do. I respect that.

I miss her.

Once there was six of us, and now there is only 3. And, I wonder, just how did this happen so fast?

More on Fear

 

Fear was a constant companion. It directed my every move and thought. Beginning at the age of 4 or thereabouts, I was indoctrinated into the familial society of Fear. It was not a good thing.

 

We lived pretty much to ourselves, my siblings, my mother, and I. My father was there sporadically, as his job took him often away from home. Perhaps that’s where it started. My father’s sudden absence from home, leaving my mother in charge of us all.

 

A sense of duty and responsibility must have gripped my mother that was overwhelming. Just keeping us fed and clothed was a monumental task. We accepted no help from the state or churches, or anyone that I can remember. My mother would have seen it as a weakness, and this she could not and would not tolerate.

 

As my brothers and sisters reached the age of 16, 17, 18, they began to leave. I suppose anywhere was better than being at home. I had the sense that it was expected for them to leave. I know that I missed them terribly when they had gone, and keenly felt the circle of isolation tightening.

Therapeutic Endeavors

What I Learned As a Child

I see a therapist every two weeks now. It has helped me a lot. He is a good therapist to work with. He gives me homework to do. This is part of it. I haven't written anything here for a long time. Life has been hectic and those curveballs keep on coming. I'm catching them as fast as I can, but sometimes I need help, so, hence, the therapist.

The goal of this cognitive therapy is learning to change the self-talk that everyone has inside their head. Some of it is good. When it holds you back, it isn't. It keeps you from being the total person you can be.

So what did my childhood teach me?

1. Fear. The biggest thing I learned in childhood was fear. Fear of what was outside at night trying to get in and kill us. Never mind it was probably all in the mind of my mother. Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming her at all. She did the very best she could do at all times when raising her six kids. She had her own issues to deal with at a time when we didn't go see therapists or doctors, and there was no Prozac or Zoloft to help keep the demons away.

Fear is a contagious thing. It jumps from one person to the next in the blink of an eye. It creates panic, which in turns brings chaos to an otherwise peaceful place. It doesn't matter who you are, or what your economic situation, fear can keep you locked inside your own little world, one created solely to keep you from facing that fear. I believe my mother became agoraphobic at some point in her life. She would not leave the property we lived on for many years. I learned to grocery shop when I was 11. No big deal, but it seemed strange to me. I always felt apart from others, not quite fitting in, because of the fear.

I can remember being very small and sleeping under the covers to hide myself at night. It wasn't until many years later I would realize we all are equal in the dark. The hunter and hunted are on equal turf in the blackness of a hot summer night.

More later.

On December 21st, I lost my dear brother. I don't know how to handle it. I really don't. There is no one here where I live that I can talk to about it, except a therapist, and I already know what they will say. It hurts as bad as losing my mother. Almost. I could pretty much talk to Buddy about anything. I don't have any idea how his wife, Nancy, is coping with his loss. They were together over 50 years. They were in their teens when they married, and they were best friends. Their passion and love never dwindled.

I remember being very young, and my surroundings seemed almost without color sometimes. There were periods of bleakness and sadness about the household. In the winter you were cold, very cold, and in the summer, well, you got hot, but you could stand it. My mother was still going through menopause, so you can imagine the mood swings and hot flashes. It really hit her hard. Always she was fanning herself with something, a magazine, a piece of notebook paper, anything. We never kept our windows up at night for fear of rapists and burglars. The fact that we had absolutely nothing worth stealing didn't seem to matter. I didn't know what a rapist was at the time, so I just went along with the program. That was how it was.

I remember Buddy sitting outside sometimes on a warm summer night, before he joined the Navy, and playing his guitar into the phone. I thought it somewhat odd behavior, but hey, I wasn't going to comment.

One day, however, things changed forever in our family. Buddy brought home his new girlfriend for us to meet. To me, a little girl who was all tomboy, but had a huge crush on Mr. GreenJeans, and Little Joe Cartwright, she seemed like a movie star. Her full skirt and white blouse, her bobbysocks, and teased blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and wonderful smile, all combined to make me think she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She was nice to me, polite, and I can't remember if the incredible shyness I grew into was in place yet or not. Most likely, I showed off for her, doing ignorant little kid things to get her attention. I loved her from that moment on. I think she became a role model for me in many ways. I have never, ever heard her raise her voice to anyone. I have often heard her speak with authority, but never heard her yell and scream like the rest of us did. To me, she will always be 16.

I live many miles from her and other than the phone calls I have made, I have not seen her for many years. Yet hearing her voice, and oftentimes, Buddy's, kept me assured that they were still there. I still did have family that I knew cared.

I know that Nancy has many family members of her own to rely on at this time, and that gives me great comfort. There is not much I can really do, except listen. It's odd, somehow, that she and I have both lost sons in their mid-twenties, and dealt with that enormous grief that never really leaves. And now she must face this loss. She has her daughter who I know is a great and wonderful comfort to her. I know she is very proud of her and her successful career.

I guess I wish I could be there now. I wish I could comfort the person who made our family act a little more decent, a little more caring, and gave us sunshine when we had none.

more news

A lot has changed since I wrote that last post. I got pneumonia again! I learned some very unfortunate news about my brother. We have lost a wonderful gifted writer from our blogosphere, Joe Spado, "Spadoman" of Round Circle. He has imparted such wisdom over the years, and it is sad to see him move from this world to the next. I know the Great Spirit has helped him cross over and begin his new journey.

I lost my ex-husband on Dec. 6, 2013, EJ's father. It hit me in a way I did not expect. This man has been a part of my life since I was 20 years old. I will not say we were "friends" at the time of his death, but we could talk to each other. I am glad now that the last time I saw him I gave him a big hug. It is as if a big part of my life is now over. We would never have gotten back together, it is nothing like that. It is the fact that we did share two sons, and I honestly believe he is with the one who has passed before him, Travis.

I will soon be 59 years old. I survived colon cancer at the age of 39. It was stage II-b in the Dukes staging system for colon cancers. The oncologist gave me a 50-50 chance of survival, and 55-45, with chemotherapy. I like to think I beat the odds. I prayed for God to give me the opportunity to see my son's grown and on their own. He answered that prayer. Sometimes I think I should have asked for more, but, hey, what are you going to do?

I have fallen in love with my great-grandson, Jacob. He is "Grandma's boy!" He is such a cutie, and at one year, amazingly smart. He cheers me up when I feel down. I know that sounds a little corny, but it is the truth. My grandkids have proven to be a blessing to me. I had to step back, and let them be themselves. So, we are forging a family unit, and that is a good thing. I just hope I don't jinx it by writing about it. HA!

Well, enough news. More later.

Hey Linda and Kelly! Thinking of you this holiday season!

Wow, a year!

I cannot believe it's been a whole year since I posted on this blog! Time sure flies when your life is going steadily downhill, doesn't it?

I really have many things to be grateful for in the past year. My son did have his child, on December 7, 2012. A beautiful son, who was named Christian, for his mother. She had the baby induced, as this was recommended by her doctor, who said she lived so far from the hospital. I believe the baby was induced too early, and I have a little problem with the whole concept of inducing labor for convenience, rather than giving the baby the full term to grow.

Christian was fine. He was about 6 lbs. at birth, and about 27 inches long. He is now on a par with his peers. I say this because his father was premature at birth, and the agony of that left a great impression on me. Christina, the mother, decided to leave on Christmas Eve. They were having problems, and both of them needed some attitude adjustment, but it was not for me to intervene. That has a way of coming back and kicking you in the ass.

I had just gotten out of the hospital with double pneumonia, in the lower lobes. I was very sick, and went into the hospital after dropping my son off at work that morning. The doctor there almost sent me home, even though my oxygen level was only 86%, which is critical. However, after seeing the x-rays, he suddenly changed his mind. He made his diagnosis without all of the information. Just thinking about that, and all the other people this man has treated, blows my mind. It really does. I had to ask for everything I needed while at this hospital, even soap to wash with. I understand they may have been short-handed, but at least give me a bar of soap!

Back to more important things. EJ and I spent a very confusing and frustrating Christmas that year. His child was snatched away, and as they were not married, there was not a whole lot he could do. He did not know where she had gone. It was a mess.

Here is a photo of EJ and Christian:

EJ and Christian

 

 

My grandkids are with me now, EJ's step-daughter and her boyfriend and their year old baby boy, Jacob. I watch him while she goes to school at the community college here. She is 18. Her boyfriend is 22.

 

More later.







Well, the countdown has begun. EJ and his girlfriend are expecting the arrival of their baby within the next few weeks. I am becoming a basket case! The nesting urge has gotten me and it's driving me crazy. I want to get everything ready for the upcoming event, but its not my baby. It's theirs! What will I do with myself? I think I will lose my mind. They have decided on Christian as his name. Of course that has led to many humorous comments. "Christ, will you please leave that alone and go play???" Or, "Christ, what is it now?" What will be his nickname is the question. Chris is the obvious choice, but we already know a Chris, which I have written about here before. Christ is really not appropriate. Christian sounds so biblical and pilgrimish.

Sasha has learned to get along somewhat better with Simon and Spike. They are growing so fast and make me laugh out loud at least 50 times a day. My little helper will run through the house and the kittens will chase her. She is doing remarkably well in kindergarten.

My son, EJ, is beginning to look a little like a deer caught in the headlights. He has raised 1 child, and helped with 2 others, but this will be the first time he has done it from scratch, if you will. He will be a wonderful father, if he can stop worrying long enough.

We survived our visit from Sandy, and we didn't lose power! I really feel for our northern neighbors and my prayers go out to them. I think all of us on the eastern seaboard kept thinking the storm would just keep going on out to sea, as we have watched them to 100 times before, but this one was dead on from the beginning. The forecasters were marvelous in tracking the storm, but I have to say, I did not enjoy watching them brave the elements to report the conditions. We have enough to worry about without watching and fearing someone will be swept away before our very eyes. It was quite frightening actually.

You know, I really like Micheal for a name. Or Joseph. Why does it have to start with a C?

Blessings.

Conversations

At this time in my life, I live with my oldest son, his girlfriend, and her 5-year old daughter. They are expecting a child in December, so we will really have a full house. We have not lived here a month yet, and already we have adopted two more kittens, Simon and Spike/Clyde, that my cat Sasha detests with a passion. She is no longer hiding under the bed (not even my bed!), but she hisses and growls at them on every occasion. They are cute, and ignore Sasha most of the time. My little friend, the 5-year-old, we'll call her little Girl for now, well, we have some interesting discussions.

Just the other day, we were sitting on the front porch, and she looked at me and said, "You have to move, you are sitting in my grave." Of course, this this took me by surprise, and, even knowing I was not sitting in a grave, (I was sitting in a chair on the front porch) I jumped up. I said, "What? What do you mean a grave? Who died?" She looked at me solemnly and said, "Big brother died." (She has no big brother. He is imaginary.) I said, "Well, Jesus, I didn't even know he was sick. What killed him?" She replied,"He got shot by some guys in a car." At this point, I am thinking about psychology and what has happened to her to make her have these ideas. Then she said, "But I'm going to make him alive again. We have to do this thing where we give the demon something and then he gets to come back cause he won't be a demon anymore, and will let him go." I thought about this for a minute, thinking hard about the word demon. So big brother died and became a demon. This isn't looking good from where I sit.  I said, (what else)?, "OK. What do we do?" So we held hands and she said some words from a language that has never been used on this earth anywhere, and she pointed to her right, and said, "Here he is, good again, right here." So I looked at the empty space and said, "Well, hey there, glad you're feeling better, or, I mean I'm glad you are not dead anymore." I really didn't know what to say, actually.

I asked her why she was thinking about all of this dying business. She told me she watched Supernatural with her mom and that is what happened to one of the characters. OK, now I feel a lot better. I then said, "You know you can't really bring people back who are dead, right?" She nodded her head, and said, "Like Grandma?" And I said "Right. We miss them and we can talk to them, if we want, and visit them and put flowers on their graves." She nodded her head, and then she looked at me, a little puzzled. "Grandma's in Newport News. That is not here." I said, "Well, we can get in the car and drive down the road here, and then turn, and find our way to Newport News, and the cemetery, and you can talk to your Grandma." And she looked at me, even more puzzled, and with the air of someone who is talking to a lunatic, and said, "I can't talk to Grandma, she's dead."

Now, what do you say to that?

Grandsons and TV

My newest grandson is getting closer and closer. He is due in December, and his mom has decided his first name must begin with a C. I favor Cole, Collin, Chase, Chance, or Chad. His middle name will be Riley. His mom is thinking a lot of Christian. At least when he gets in trouble, he'll be called by his name, "Christ, what have you done this time!!" I don't know. I love the names Micheal and David. There are so many wonderful names that don't begin with a C. But who knows what the child will be called. As long as he is healthy, that is all that really matters. I have been thinking about some of the names celebrities give their children and what on earth possessed them to do so. Take Blanket, for instance: (Michael Jackson's son). What was he thinking?? Or Rumor (Demi Moore's daughter). I mean its cute for about 3 minutes and then you start thinking about it. Oh, such is life.

There has been a great deal of most likely purposeful controversy, meaning it was started on purpose to get people talking about the show, about Stars and Stripes. Evidently, celebrities try to complete military type operations and the winner gets to donate his winnings to military specific causes. This is a great idea and a great way to raise money for these charities, so I really can't see any controversy about it at all.

It used to be when you wanted to watch TV, there were actual programs that were comedies, variety shows, mysteries, dramas, crime stories that featured real-live actors acting. Now it has become the age of reality TV. I hate it myself. Well, I like Top Chef, but that is very educational as well as exciting. The drama seems to lesson each season and focus more on food choice, preparation, and skill. And then we have Call of the Wildman, or some such mess where a man, who seems very nice and cordial, (but who desperately needs to get some much needed dental care),  chases skunks, raccoons, possums, and other little critters around in people's attacks with his bare hands. Can anyone out there say rabies?? These little critters all come with assorted claws and teeth and temperaments that are not conductive to safe handling by humans. I guess what bothers me the most is that some people will try this method themselves, and suffer injuries.

What is it with our society that we only seem to watch the antics of people who lack social skills or shows about the supernatural, such as vampires, zombies, and other assorted creatures? I guess with the economy and the hardships people face today with securing and keeping a job, the scramble to stay 1 step away from the street, we are looking for an escape. Anything to take our minds off of ourselves and our own miseries. It must be so farfetched and outlandish that it contains no elements of reality. That way we can feel safe for a while. We know it isn't real, it will never be real, and that is what attracts us. I, myself, love TrueBlood and Walking with the Dead. I also watch period dramas that supposedly reflect history and that way I can pick them apart.

Then there is Graham Norton, who I absolutely adore. If I want to laugh, that is where I go. He has such a marvelous way of defusing any kind of stress or drama, and everyone seem so comfortable on his show, except perhaps for Kristen Stewart. A local PBS station here is airing I, Claudius this Saturday, and guess where I will be?

August

Thank God August has proved so far to be not as hot as this otherwise blistering summer. I see higher food prices for us all as the drought barrels on. I live maybe a city block from the Potomac, and one would think there would be a breeze coming off of the river, but no, I have felt none, until yesterday.

I have 3 more weeks of school left, then I have my associates degree in Medical Transcription. As I live out here in Bum Puck Eygypt now, my daily commute to whatever position I can garner with this degree will be significant. You see that word a lot in MT: significant. The findings were significant for edema of the extremities x2. The findings were not significant for pneumonia.

I recently had a sacroiliac joint injection. Seems the lower part of my back and hips are aging faster than you can say "wheelchair", and so I have been getting facet joint injections and hip joint injections, and they have really helped. Where I could not do anything, I now can resume most of my daily activities relatively pain free. I will never be pain free. I will always have residual pain. I have opted not to go the root of Oxycontin or other narcotic pain relievers. I am mostly furious with the companies who manufacture these drugs and allow them to be prescribed willy-nilly to anyone and everyone, regardless of condition being treated or the age of the patient.

My diabetes is requiring adjuvant therapy with oral medications now, most likely due to the steroid injections I have been receiving. My last A1c was 7.1 which is officially in the diabetes zone, and not in the prediabetes zone. I anticipate it will be higher this time as my blood sugars have been topping out in the 200+ area.

My physician inquired when I had had my last pap smear, and I told her it was probably in 2003. I have had the complete hysterectomy thing, so the medical community has decided I don't need them anymore. Which is fine by me. I told her, if she wanted to do one, she had better bring a broom for the cob webs and a drill or something, because its been a while since anything has been up my skirt. She laughed and said that her office would not be the place to have one, anyway, so I suggested perhaps a construction site. One wants the necessary tools on hand. We opted to forgo this very necessary diagnostic procedure for most women who have all of their body parts.

I have been depressed lately, as well. I have that feeling that the wheels of unknown design are turning somewhere in the background, not in my favor, and I cannot pin point where they are and for what purpose. Can we say "Paranoid"? I do not know if it is paranoia or just a gut feeling. We still do have those you know, a plain ole gut feeling, that says, "Hey, something is not right here." Always trust that feeling, ok?

I feel at a cross-roads, again!, and, quite frankly, I am too damn old to be at a cross-roads. I want my life to be boringly uneventful.

Best wishes.

Who Shot the Sheriff? Snoop Drops Rap, Changes Name, Sings Reggae (Listen) - Technorati Music

Who Shot the Sheriff? Snoop Drops Rap, Changes Name, Sings Reggae (Listen) - Technorati Music

OK, I like Snoop Lion. It is quite majestic sounding. And I like reggae, as well. I wish him great success in his new creative venture.

I am thinking of changing my name to Wind Willowtree, as it satisfies some strange creative yearning in me. I do not know at this time what I will be creating, but I will keep you posted.

As always, most sincerely,

The blogger previously known as Just me.

My friend and helper

I believe this week is the hardest to get through of any in the year. In 2005, Travis was wounded in Hit, Iraq, by and IED device, and died of those wounds on the 21st. During this week, every year, I mourn the fact that no one from his family was there with him. I mourn the fact he died on foreign soil without his family around him. I am saddened that he never saw his youngest daughter, Emma, who, from what I gather by pictures I find here and there on the internet, is growing up to be a beautiful young woman. Of course, Hunter is a handsome young man. Tristan, his young son in the Phillipines, looks so much like him it is unbelievable. I am so very sad that he did not get to know this beautiful young man.

This week brings into focus all that Travis wanted to be, all that he was, and all he will never get the chance to be on this earth. I comfort myself thinking he was surrounded by those who cared for him during his final time here, and I believe they were caring and compassionate.

I never even knew he was wounded. I had moved, so casualty officers did not know where I was. Those who did know did not share the information with me. Would there have been anything I could have done to save my son? The answer is most likely no, but the "what ifs" can be very cruel and persistent.

There are still young men and women being killed everyday in these places, and I do not understand why. Was not the reason we went to Afghanistan in the first place  to find Osama Bin Laden? And is he not dead? Did we ever find weapons of mass destruction? Did we not kill Saddam Hussein? Do our military personnel still need to be in these places? Perhaps we are there to instill the wish for freedom. However, ultimately, it is up to the people who live there to find there own way to freedom, if that is their wish. The Afghanistan people fought the Soviets and did all right for themselves. 


Let us bring our young people home. They are needed here, by their families, by the ones who love and miss them. 

May

Well, look at this! Here it is May already! The first day of May to be exact. I guess that makes this May day. If I had a May pole, I might actually dance around it with flowers in my hair. Things have been going good for us Youngbloods living here in Virginia. My son is doing well at his job, and soon to have a brand new baby with his beautiful girlfriend. (I am already planning the wedding in my head, but they haven't said anything about such a thing happening.)

 I am almost finished with my hateful school work, which is very difficult. You think your doctor is hard to understand during a typical office visit? Just try to transcribe one of his surgical reports. While they are chewing gum or burping! It is one of those hair pulling scenarios.

My son's girlfriend has a little almost 5 year old girl, I have just fallen in love with this child. She is very smart, creative, protective, and has a wonderful sense of humor. She will come and tell me something one of her imaginary friends have done, and puts that hand on her hip and says, "Seriously, he (Cecil or Tada??) is being bad, and he hit Lily (her babydoll rabbit). So, he is in time out." When she gets mad she lets you know and does not tolerate rudeness. My cat Sasha has finally figured out she's staying for the long haul so has learned to accept the fact. She hides a lot in the closet. I do too.

She loves to draw pictures of her feelings, which of course, she doesn't know she is doing. She will draw a picture of me and her, and we will be smiling and holding hands. She draws Sasha, too. When she gets mad, she draws pictures of me with big funky teeth, which makes me think that trip to the dentist is long overdue. I laugh my head off, which of course, infuriates her, and here comes another funky tooth picture. She has not exactly bonded with EJ. In private moments she refers to him as "asshole". I have no idea where she heard that word. I tell her (while trying to hide the fact that I am laughing) she shouldn't say that, but then I do laugh and she does too, and it becomes our little secret laugh. God knows I do not believe my son is an asshole (though we all have a little asshole in us, you know??), but hearing it from a 5-year-old mouth is just funny to me. Seriously.

Well, look at this. Yesterday it was January, and here it is today already, and the middle of June, or thereabouts, and I have moved again. This time to a little town on the Potomac river. It is actually a summer community, meaning the rich folks from the city who can actually afford a summer place, come here to ride around the one lane in gulf carts and show off their Potomac tans. We have now been assimilated into the locals, which means, I guess, the poorer people who live here all year long! Wow, and it feels like I just got here!

There is no stoplight in the town here, but there is a post-office and a bank. There are 3 convenience stores that are not further than 6 or 7 miles away. Talk about convenience, whoo! There is 1 school that my little adopted grand-daughter will be going to next year, in kindergarten, and I already anticipate having a few verbal altercations with unsuspecting and probably in the right teachers there. How they do this work of teaching today, in this society, with cellphones and texting, and all the other methods of inattention, I have no idea. They must be made of stronger stuff than I.

I am awaiting the birth of my (we think, almost are sure) grandson. EJ is going to be a proud papa, and he guards his woman well. He is doing great at the moment, and perhaps some of the ghosts and demons of the past are finally losing their grip on him. He will also be a grandfather soon. I know that sounds strange, but its how he sees it, and how we all see it. His step-daughter will be having a boy, before he has his son, I think. I know, it sounds like we are from West Virginia, or Arkansas or somewhere deep in the hills of no-man's land, but we are here in what is called Cole's Point VA.

I do have two other grandchildren by Travis's widow, and one by the love of his life, Lorena. Lorena allows me access to my grandson, Tristan. Travis' widow does not. I figure they will come to me someday demanding answers, and I will welcome them with open arms. I just hope I am still above ground when that happens.

Well, here I am ending with a shoutout to the Holtons in Texas, and Roberts in California. You know who you are!!

Psalms, from The holy Bible, King James version

This psalm, more than any other, has always filled me with hope, comfort, and love. When you think about it, what could be greater than someone watching you as you leave every morning and come home every night, making sure you are safe and provided for? Is there anything else we really need? Just felt like sharing.

1: I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. 
2: My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth. 
3: He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. 
4: Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. 
5: The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand. 
6: The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. 
7: The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. 
8: The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore. 

Wow, I guess I should stop by here more often. The whole shebang has changed. It's all so stream-lined. Hmm mm..... I'll have to give it a whirl and see what happens.

I haven't been consistently writing in this blog for about two years now. Things were at a point in my life where I couldn't really think about much else than survival, which is pretty much what the whole freaking country has been doing for the last two years when you think about it.

There are so many people who want to lay all of our country's problems at the feet of President Obama. Well, excuse me, but didn't Obama step into a shit-storm from the get-go, left behind by the previous administration? Hello? Have you all taken your heads out of the sand yet? The previous 8 years, though fun in some ways, kind of set the stage for a lot of crap that Obama is trying to sort through. It's kind of like having your 4-year-old grandchild take over your home office for a year. They write on your documents with crayons, take their round-point scissors and cut out certain parts of important documents, put others through your shredder, leave peanut butter stains on your most precious things, delete this, add this, all in such a way as would only make reasonable sense to a 4 year old. Now, you decide it's time to resume your responsibility for the office, and look what a mess you have to clean up!

If Newt Gingrich should become our next president I will leave the country and become a hermit on some small out of the way island, but first, I will try to take as many innocent people with me as I can. The thought makes my stomach churn. The other Republican candidates seem like a who's who of "Didn't he run a few times before already?" or "Who the hell's this guy?" At least they haven't regurgitated Sarah P......oh, let's not go there. I was actually starting to enjoy this again, so why spoil it now?

I started out by coming across a few blogs I used to read, seeing if the spin had changed, and no such luck.  These blogs are mostly comprised of what I would call the southern baptist stump preacher's way of preaching about the joys of atheism. And don't act like you don't know what I mean. They are full of their own fire and brimstone pointing the way to a hellish existence for everyone and everyone's crazy brother if you do not stop believing in this sinful beast called God, excuse me, "god"! The woes of belief are many, and the rewards are few, to hear these guys tell it. In their minds, nothing is more sinful than giving yourself over to a higher power, and you are committing an act of unbridled insanity and destroying our country's moral fiber by doing so.

Well, excuse me. They sound so much like your typical evangelist foaming at the mouth and passing the plate, that I am waiting for them to remind us that costs money, and if you truly believe that there isn't anything out there but black holes, then you must help support the cost, $1 at a time.

Here's what I think. I will believe what I want to believe, and nothing anyone else screams or shouts or stamps their foot and says "you are so wrong", is gonna change my mind. I believe in a higher power. I always will. I just don't think I evolved from a slug or other such weird looking creature. I am not saying that Darwin was wrong. I do believe the strongest adapt and change and perpetuate the species. I, however, reserve the right to say "under God" in the pledge of allegiance if I want to. And no one can tell me I can't. I can read the Bible and interpret it however I want to, for my own purposes, for my own life, and no one can say no you can't.... I can even say, "Gosh, I don't know." and no one can say I'm wrong. That is what freedom is.

I am so tired of hearing about this act of Marines urinating on dead bodies. Well, let's say for the sake of argument, it might be true. Let's say you have been in a country where these people or people who look like these people or people who try to look like these people have been constantly trying to shoot your ass, blow you up, blow up your friends, and they don't have to follow the same rules you do. They are not held accountable for whatever atrocities they may commit. Let's say this has been going on for about a year now. Let's say you are tired of not sleeping, you have sand in your hair, mouth, shoes, socks, and you are pretty sick of sand. Let's say you watched your best buddy get blown up, why was it yesterday or the day before, you don't remember because time seems to be something irrelevant now. You find that if someone so much as coughs, you jump nearly out of your sand-filled boots. Given these circumstances, and given the fact that after this particular fight, you am still alive and breathing, there's no telling what you might do, after realizing that you are, yes, going to live a few minutes longer. Shit happens in war. That's why they call it war. If it was fun and followed rules, well, hell, we would all be wanting to join up, now wouldn't we?

Well, I knew she had mentioned him, but I didn't know how thorough and wonderful her comments were.  It means so much to me that she would take the time to honor one of our fallen heroes.  It seems so many forget they are still dying in Iraq and Afghanistan and the devastation caused by their sacrifice affects so many lives in so many ways.  God bless you Nancy Grace.  You do a wonderful service to our country.

Below is the comments she made about Travis:

GRACE: Everyone, let`s stop and remember Navy Hospital Corpsman 3rd Class Travis Youngblood, 26, Surrency, Georgia, killed Iraq. Awarded the Purple Heart, Navy Commendation, National Defense Service medal, Iraq Campaign medal. Buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

Volunteered to serve in place of his wife so she could take care of their little boy. Loved his family, his country, being a father. Leaves behind heartbroken parents Deborah and Elmer, a Navy vet, brother E.J., widow Laura also served the Navy, son Hunter, daughter Emma he never got to meet.

Travis Youngblood, American hero.

Thanks to our guests but especially to you for being with us. I`ll see you tomorrow night. 8:00 sharp Eastern. And until then, good night, friend.

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