May 31, 2010

  Those who know me know I grew up in foster homes.  The first home that I remember was the Schmidts (from 15mns to 7 1/2 yrs.).  Mrs. Schmidt whom I called 'Momma Dear' came from a large family-I think there were seven kids.  The youngest I want to call Jason for some reason-I know his name started with a 'J'.  I believe it was during my fifth summer--about 1969--he came by the house late one evening.  It was always 'special' when he came by because it was so rare him being so much younger than her.  In my little girl mind I thought he was just so good looking with his long hair and his pretty blue eyes. He stayed for dinner and then he told us he had inlisted.  I had absolutely no idea what that meant.  It wasn't until sometime toward the end of summer that he returned.  His appearance was so altered that I did not reconize him.  I remember he had on a green uniform and a funny little hat.  It was a weekend day, it was hot and Wesley (my foster brother) and I were playing Monopoly on the front porch.  He came by himself.  I can still see him walking up the walk to the porch, me staring at him, he reached in his pocket and pulled out two Hershey bars handing us both one.  He reached over and gave my head a rub (the only person who ever could do that) and said, "Hey, kiddo" and walked into the house.  Wesley and I kept playing while I ate my candy bar.  Notice I said 'I ate'.  Wesley waited me out and when I was done he ate his real slow teasing me.  But half way through Momma Dear, Uncle Dick (my name for Mr. Schmidt) and her baby brother came outside.  She was trying not to cry.  In my childs mind I did not understand what was happening but I knew it was not good.  I remember the stiffness of the uniform as he bent to hung me and kiss the top of my head.  Little did I know it would be the last time any of us ever saw him. 

  The following poem I wrote in 1987 during the Gulf war.  I thought of him when I wrote it though it is a fictional account.   And it is to his memory and all those who gave their lives protecting ours that this is dedicated.

A Rose For Jason

    The day that Jason went away many tears were shed.  Momma just kept praying to herself, burying her face in her tissue.  You see Jason was the baby of the family.  Just shy of eighteen, he was called to serve his country in the war.  I remember the roses were in full bloom, bright beautiful red.  Jason had picked the prettiest one and gave it to momma.  He told her not to worry, God will take care of him.  He also told her he loved her--she could always count of that.

    It was gray with smoke and dust on the field the day Jason died.  He took a bullet in the heart; in an instant his life was gone.  Blood poured from his chest, bright crimson red.  In that moment, no one noticed; no one cared.  He was alone.  Just another one down for the count of bodies on the ground.  The life that was once my baby brother is gone now forever.

    It's been three years since momma got the news about Jason's death.  You know she greives still.  Sometimes at night when I lay awake, I can hear her crying.  I miss my brother like I've never missed anything before but I think I miss momma more.  The sparkle in her eyes has gone.  She used to sing as she did her work but now she doesn't sing at all.  She never mentions his name; she never looks at his pictires.  I remember how she used to perk-up whenever he walked into the room.  She would get a bounce in her step, her eyes would twinkle and her face would glow with love and pride that only a mother could feel.  It's not that she doesn't love us; it's just that Jason was her baby.  He was special to us all. 

    Now each summer when the rose bush is in full bloom we grown kids go out and pick just one bright, beautiful, crimson rose for Jason.

    We love you, Jason.

May 16, 2010

 More Doggie Wisedom:
     
       "Never sniff another dogs butt and growl at him when he sniffs yours."

       "Never examine your neighbors trash if he's watering his yard."

       "And always 'mark' your stuff so no one else takes it."

May 14, 2010

 Doggie Wisdom:
    "If you're hot, find some shade.  If you're thirsty, find some water.  If you're tired, sit down.  If you're scared, bark like mad.  If you're hungry, check your bowl.  If it's empty, check the other dogs bowl.  Never bite the hand that feeds you.  Or scratches your belly.  Pee on everything and you will never get lost.  Never hurry and always take time to smell the pee."

                                                                                                  ~Elvis, the Terrior

May 3, 2010

 On Wednesday, April 21 Miss Fretwell aged 73 died.  She had graduated from Farmville High and Stratford College (in Danville) somewhere in the middle of the last century.  She had worked for the State Disability Dept. in Richmond, went to the local Methodist Church, was on the seniors bowling team, the Farmville Lions club and was one of the Daughters of the American Revolution.  Well, that's what the paper read anyway.  It also reported that she was survived by a sister and two nieces.  That friends could come view the deceased that very same night and she would be buried the next day.  What it did not say was that she had a stroke, fell into a coma and her sister (who had to travel all the way up from Georgia) pulled the plug.  That her part time gardener, Earl, had been with her when it happened.  And thank God because she lived alone.  She never married and never had any children.  The paper doesn't say whether she ever had a great love or lover.  What kind of girl she may have been, what kind of things she had done as a young woman.  Did she ever want children?  Did she even like them?  Other than bowling, what did she like to do?  The paper never tells these things.
  It also didn't mention that she was always neatly dressed, perfectly coiffed, and very well groomed even when she was working outside.  I only really knew her as a neighbor-even though I lived two blocks down and one block over.  She always stopped to comment on how cute the dogs were or how pretty my hair looked today.  She was the one who told me about the $500 dollar fine that Longwood would impose if they caught the dogs pooping on the field before they ever put the signs up.  She was kind-hearted but would most certainly tell you what she thought.  She did not mince words.  She was very honest and yet there was something about her you just couldn't help but like-or maybe you just felt a little sorry for her.  She could be a bit stubborn and very oppinionated  but if you had to do battle with some unsavory faction such as the electric company or the town offices she was the one to go to.  She was a staunch Republican-a John McCain supporter.  I know this because I got my McCain sign from her-though I'm not really a Republican I did not have the heart to tell her-or the nerve!  You see the papers never really tell you about the person or their relations leaving those of us who bother to read it wondering about the people we don't know.  Or maybe it's just me wondering. 
 So to the memory of Miss Fretwell and all the Miss Fretwells out there Bon Voyage!  I will remember you. 

 Miss Fretwell died Wednesday, April 21, 2010.  Her house went on the market Friday, April 23, 2010.

April 27, 2010

I haven't a lot to say tonight.  On the way home-right around the corner in fact-the boys and I saw a squirral.  It was trying to cross the road.  I say trying because from right under it's front arms and down he was partially flattened.  He could not move anything below his arms.  I knew immediately what happened-a car.  That poor thing was trying so despartly to get across the road.  An elderly couple had stopped their car when they saw us and allowed it to cross.  She asked if maybe she should run over it again (not that she did it in the first place) and I thought that it might actually be more human to do that.  I know that sounds so harsh but it was suffering so much.  But once she got to the corner I guess she changed her mind because she stopped for a moment and then kept going.  I took the boys home-they were trying to get it-and told my husband.  His view was to 'let nature take care of it' and 'let one of the (neighborhood) cats get it'.  Sick!  I went back out and it had managed to get about five feet up a tree into the crook of it and laid there.  I didn't know what to do so I just prayed that God would make it's death swift.   I remember when I was a kid-about twelve or so-I had one die in my hands from the same thing.  I thought of that when I saw him lain across the crook of that tree.  I know God loves all His creatures.  I'm sure I sound like a sap but it was heartwrenching-at least to me.

 

April 16, 2010

  Wow!  Eighty-one degrees and it's not quite noon.  Big mistake walking back in the 'Greens' today.  I thought poor Elvis was going to die.  The poor little dog barely made it home-every spot of shade we came across he had to lay in, tongue lolling out, and refused to move.  But since I'm the human and should have realized how hot it was getting before we went so far I had no choice but to stay right there beside him.  Everytime he stopped I thought for sure I'd have to carry him home-but then he'd find the energy to make to the next patch of shade.  We did this all the way down 4th Ave. ext. -about a 1/4 mile- which is a long way when your legs aren't even a foot high!  Funny thing though, as soon as he caught a glimpse of the house he ran-pulling me and Fuggo- until he hit that porch.  It was so chilly yesterday and the day before that I really did not think it was going to be this warm today.  Guess I should have listened to John Bernier last night.  I know better now.  

  Sitting there on the edge of someone's yard under the shade of a very big tree- the tree was no where near the edge of the yard but the shadow was- taking one of Elvis' breaks, I thought about the ocean and going to Kiptopeke State Park.   Kiptopeke is right on the edge of the Delmarva Penninsula on the bay.  There are two beaches there-one for humans and one for dogs.  You know where we were-the doggie beach!  The dogs had the time of their lives out there.  We stayed on that beach all day-well 'daddy' went fishing off the pier.  Fuggo chased a crab into the water-funniest thing.  He had never seen a crab before.  He kept looking at it, looking at me. Then back to the crab.  Then back to me.  It was as if he were trying to say, "Momma, look at this funny thing.  What the hell is it?  Momma, check it out!"   I wished I had had my camara then.  But the best was watching Elvis trying to fight the waves.  Every wave that came in he had to grawl and bite at.  Then the wave would go out and he'd chase it.  Wave would come back in and there would be running then growling and biting.  People thought I was a little nuts because I was laughing so hard.  Eventually, he got use to them and actually enjoyed getting in the water.  (This struck me as odd since he hates a bath).  Fuggo never really took to the water but he was mesmerized by everything on the beach. 

   Sitting there in that man's yard under the shade of his tree this morning had me wishing I could take them back there.  But living off unemployment (and what meager bit I get from my shop) doesn't really allow for vacation.   Oh, well, I have faith.  I know things will turn around if we just keep trying.  In the meantime, I think I will make some iced tea and chill out with my 'boys'.  After all, it's Friday.  The weekend can come a bit early.  Enjoy!

April 12, 2010

  It's a lovely evening and perfect for a walk which is what we just did-the boys and I.  It's funny though the things that go through your head when your walking.  I noticed that everyone else was outside too. We walked over to First Ave. as we usually do.  The guy down the road in the house that looks like Mt. Vernon was still working on his yard-the back this time.  As we walked I realized almost everyone had mowed their lawn just recently-I say almost everyone since me and two other people haven't.  The family who is trying to sell their house-for almost nine months now-were all out in the front yard.  The eldest daughter and a friend were cleaning out the car they had pulled all the way into the yard-mom was on the porch reading-dad and the two boys were playing catch-even the cat was sitting in the yard licking herself.  I noticed all this but what went through my head was " How on earth do they managed to keep so many people in that tiny yard?"   We walked on past 'The Duck Lady's' house-so called because she owns a duck-I noticed that she-like me- needed to get the grass cut.  'The Duck Lady' is an elderly woman who lives alone in her little albeit nice bungalow with her two cats and the duck.  When the murders took place she was right up there in the middle of all the 'gore mungers', smoking her Marlboro reds and  filling us in on all the 'gossip'. It's reassuring to know that I'm in such good company.  Then of course we walk by the 'Murder House'-shiver.  I can't look at the place anymore without thinking about that punk with a hammer-and then I have flashes of the old comedian Gallahger with his stupid watermelon and sledge hammer.  We walk on past.  Now the field-hey they need to cut the grass too.  Alright!  Longwood University needs to cut  its grass-cool!  There are dandilions growing all over it!  And some girl running through the middle of it.  Oh, no, a sudden flash of an old Massengil comercial ran through my head.  Or was it Summers Eve?  I don't know-lets move on.  Around the far end and half way home.  Then a sudden tug on the leash and I stop-Elvis is taking a poop.  Great!  I hope no one sees him since I did not think to bring a poop bag.  O.k. done and let's go.  Another yank on the leash-Fuggo is taking a poop!  I swear these are the poopingest dogs I've ever had.  Now I kinda pick up the pace a bit.  Alright- about to cross the street on the stretch home.  A mini van drives by slowly and some doofy looking guy is waving his arm off so I wave back.  Do I know this guy?  Don't think so.  Then I realize I'm standing there with two dogs just smelling a fire hydrant-talk about looking doofy.  So I yank the leash this time.  Home boys, let's go home!  But apparently some other dog had been down the same sidewalk and peed on everything.  My two dogs had to stop every foot to smell some other dogs pee!  Then I had a rather disturbing thought.  People are a lot like dogs.  We may not literally smell someones pee but we go around smelling each other all the time.  Not only that but we always have our noses in someone elses business or up someones butt (in a manner of speaking).  So I can't be too brisk with them if they stop to smell the pee.  Finally, we are almost home.  We actually got past Buddie's house without him seeing us.  Coming up on the lilacs now.  Oh, they smell so sweet.  Suddenly I'm five again and in my nanna's bedroom just off Monument Avenue.  She always smelled of lilac or Jergen's lotion-the original cherry almond one.  I do miss my nanna-I really do.  Around the corner now and home.  The sun is almost set-the sky has a lingering strip of pink and lavender.  The plants on my front porch look like arms reaching out to welcome us home.  Goodnight.