Coming from a dysfunctional family has its benefits. When I look at the piles of historic black and white photos I can make their story anything I want. Their eyes speak out yet their tales are silent. Yes, the many historic photos are my treasures because I can make them into any type of person I want – and I will.
Since momma died I’ve been searching for me – who am I? What do I want to do? What is my passion? Now that the only person that really truly cared about me has passed away who cares about my joys and sorrows? I do. I must.
A fellow writer shared a Vera Wang quote this week that helped give me some focus. “When you have a passion for something then you tend, not only to be better at it, but you work harder at it too.” She was born June 27, 1949, the same day but different year than my husband and oldest daughter. The universe is full of Synchroncity, if we pay attention.
I know who I am, and I know what I want to do (write a historical fiction based on my family) and I know that my passion for helping people can occur in many ways. What I need to do now is be open to that one new friend that I can help and will in turn help me. They are out there, in the meantime, I’ll stay true to my vision and goals as I continue to learn to be flexible in the execution of those passions.
Until next time – – –
Watching someone you love slowly deteriorate into a mass of humanity wrapped with pain was not the experience I expected with my mother during her last weeks on earth. I thought the morphine and opioids would wrap here in silence as her body slowly shut down. There wasn’t any conversation the last few weeks. She couldn’t focus on one subject long enough to really discuss it. I’d ask a question and she’d answer, and answer again and then again. Or she’d ask me a question and then ask again and again, not being able to focus on the answer, her mind still stuck on the question. I realized the days of our “conversations” were over.
Starting last summer, we had talked about just everything I could think to ask her. I knew one day we wouldn’t be able to share any more. She wanted to know what I was going to do with the money she was leaving me. I told her I was going to get a winter-worthy vehicle. The minivan I have is not safe on slippery streets and was not 4 Wheel Drive. She thought that would be a good way to take care of me. We talked about maybe buying a few personal items, but nothing major. We really didn’t need anything else.
That’s when the Murphy Gods stepped in and put us at the front end of a three-car accident in Lancaster, California 3 weeks ago and just a week after she died. Minding our own business and heading to the China Restaurant for supper, a 16-year-old boy drove his “new to him” car into the Dodge Ram Pickup next to us and he rammed (no pun intended) into us. The insurance companies will spend time arguing with each other as to whom will pay and I expect we’re going to end up on our own to repair it as his car wasn’t registered, it wasn’t insured and he had no driver’s license. Sigh!!
With only 2 weeks before we leave for the first show of the year, we’re in no position to be looking for a truck to replace ours, and we can’t put it in the shop until after we return. In addition, if the insurance companies decide we get to pay our $500 deductible and they give us a check for the balance of the $3,000 repair estimate should we really make the repairs or should we take that money and get a “new to us” truck. In addition, should we spend the $3,000 the truck needs to tighten the front end and the steering? So many options.
We went to the Tree Nursery in Kanarraville Thursday and found the perfect tree for the flower box. A lovely weeping spruce, so we went back today to get it. At the end of one street was the brightest red Tahoe XL you’ve ever seen. 2001, 134,000 miles on it. Original owner. Lived in the garage it’s whole life. It was calling my name. We stopped and looked at it on the way home and decided maybe it wasn’t the right fit. A couple of hours later we were back talking about what we’re going to do with vehicles. Tracy calls the owners and we go buy “Big Red”. Mom would approve – of both the new tree and the Tahoe.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!!
History of Sandwich Day
There is a commonly known story about the history of the word sandwich, and it’s attributed to John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich. One piece of that history that’s rarely discussed is the meaning of the word Sandwich and the town it comes from. Sandwich is a city in the shire of Kent in England, originally the word was spelled Sondwic, and then Sandwic, and ultimately in 1086 as Sandwice. The name of the town came from its purpose and its claim to fame, it was a market town. So what does Sandwich actually mean? “Market Town on Sandy Soil”.
John Montagu was the 4th Earl of this town, a royal title that essentially means ‘chieftain’ and placed them in charge of a territory in the King’s stead. John was a well a known lover of card games, and it’s said he originally ordered his meat to be delivered to him between two slices of bread so that he would not get his grease laden fingers on the card, nor require a fork to eat. As people heard of this, they started ordering their food “The Same as Sandwich”, and eventually just “a sandwich”. From such things are legendary culinary delights born. Sandwich Day celebrates both the Earl himself, and the wonder he brought to us in the form of the sandwich.