Saturday Sensibility

The world has been rocked by many things, one being the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. I admire much of what she has done, and think she is a good role model for girls and boys. Boys can learn to accept a girl that is smart, educated, savvy, intelligent, confident, and realize they add much more to life than someone who is simply physically appealing. I simply think if they learn to appreciate a girl like that when they are young, they will come to appreciate her even more when they are older. And wiser. Bless RBG and her family.

It was my honor to be invited to the Ribbon Cutting at Victory Apartments yesterday in Omaha. The program was informative, and the speakers were good. I cannot wait to do more work with gathering donations for them, thank you Margie Smith, for letting our groups at the VFW Post 2503 assist!

My high school graduating class experienced a big loss this week. One well-liked, wonderful gal passed away. I do not know what the cause of death was, I just know from the outpouring on Facebook, she leaves quite an empty space in the earth. She had a family, a husband of 40 years, and a nursing career that cared for many people during her life. She was a lot of fun in high school, although I didn’t hang out with her people. We should all strive to make the world a better place, just like she did. RIP, Barb. Hugs and prayers for your family.

These times are different, difficult at best. I’m dismayed by folks who are sure the sky is falling. I am not one who looks through rose colored glasses in a make-believe world. I was raised to think and anticipate cause and effect. Yes, things can go badly at any time, I’m enough of a realist to know that. I do believe, deep down, if we were to be obliviated for being sinful, it would have happened long before this.

I feel bad for the people who are suffering from so much anxiety over the state of things. I have concerns. At this time, I’m pretty busy living and trying to make the world better to wile away with anxiety that is crippling. That’s not a judgment, it’s just saying I found a way to quit worrying and impacting the quality of my life. The more I worried (as I was taught growing up), the less I could do. Once I learned to give it to God, things changed dramatically. I think there is a point where choices must be made on how you will spend your energy. Will the worry and anxiety help anything? No, it won’t. Will participating in the world help? Yes, as long as you stay willing to accept an outcome that may be other than what you have in mind. Participating in life doesn’t guarantee an end result that matches your idea of what should go on.

We, as mere humans, don’t know enough to know what is the best outcome. God only knows that. Want to make him laugh? Tell him your plans. Seriously. He has the time. He’ll love you anyway. Sometimes a challenge presents itself to me, and I say, “Oh God, what is it you think I need to learn NOW?” I’m grateful He’s communicating with me. You’re never too old to learn to listen. Never.

Go out and share your own unique light with the dark world. Protect your light, so you shine it where it will grow not diminish. When you share in the right place, it will energize you, not deplete you. I learned that the hard way, too. I’m glad I finally know. Go out and be a Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Be a Barb. Be a man or woman who cares deeply. Be someone who shares their gift and makes the world a better, more hopeful place. Let’s meet again tomorrow, ok? I’m so glad you were here. You make my dreams more attainable.

Masterful Monday

Can that be right? Masterful is defined as imposing one’s will on others. It’s being domineering, imperious, imperative, and peremptory. Huh? It does sound pretty unflattering, even to call Monday. But I don’t mean it in a bad way. My intent is all that matters here, and my intent is good. It’s a good thing. How so?

I do not want to be a person who regrets not doing things they always wanted to do. I will publish a novel and some children’s books. Before I don’t have the opportunity any more. In order to do that, I need to have my ambitions and my skills and my purpose defined, mapped out, and get with the work. In a way, I’m imposing my will to do this on my ability to procrastinate. I’m making it the most important thing to accomplish in the next couple of years. Seriously. It’s got to be first. The hitch is here: it can’t be more important than spending time with the Babe, our families, our grandkids. Moderation is the key. And work like hell in the block of time I can spend on it every day.

Some Days!

Song of the Day: “I’m Going to Love You Through It,” by Martina McBride. I’ve been the woman waiting for that phone call. I’ve been the woman who hung up and thought, “Shit, now what?” It was terrible calling the Babe at work and telling him. He cried out, “No!” And he said, “I’m on the way home.” I felt terrible telling him on the phone. We always know when each other is upset, by the tone of voice. I couldn’t hide it at all. No, I’ll never play poker.

The month was October. Boy, was I aware of Breast Cancer by the end of the month! My mammogram came back needing an ultrasound. I went to have that done. The radiologist and nurse told me, yes, it’s a definite lump, and I’d need a needle biopsy. All through this, I was thinking about Dan’s ex-wife, Sandy. She was just diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. She had immediate chemo and radiation. We were establishing a friendship, as she was no longer working. I wasn’t either. It was wonderful talking with her about her kids with Dan. We were blessed to be able to be friends.

The Babe went with me to the biopsy. He told them he was going to be in the room with me while they did it. They tried telling him, “You might want to wait outside.” He wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I was in Vietnam, so nothing bothers me.” They talked throughout the whole procedure, and as I placed my right arm above my hand, the Babe took hold of it. He didn’t let go until the doc and nurse left the room. I knew he’d love me through it. There was never any doubt about that.

The doc seemed almost cocky, though. She said the three samples didn’t look like cancer at all. I chose not to believe her. The Babe, however, believed her. So much that he was dumbstruck when the news came. I wanted to scream at her. How could she give us false hope like that? Wow. I hope she never did that again to another woman and her family. I was angry for how hurt the Babe was.

Next step was surgeon, he was quite thorough. The lump(s) were too small to be felt, trust me, everyone tried. To get clean margins, he removed enough tissue that was baseball sized. Ponder that. I’m pretty lopsided, but not bad, didn’t have reconstruction. I was in my late 50s, and I’m so fortunate to be an eleven year survivor. I don’t like the fact the medication added 30 pounds to me while removing all the estrogen from me. I’d had a hysterectomy at 39, so I was already a “quart low.” Or more. I don’t know. It’s not ever been the same, but I’m so grateful to God. Screw the 30 pounds.

Tell Your Much Needed Story

My friend Sandy, mother of the Babe’s children, lost her battle. Her sister also had the same cancer, she is gone now, too. Oral cancer claimed my sister in law, Laura. All around us, it’s been a battlefield. How it picks and chooses is a mystery. Sounds strange, though, I have always felt I would have breast cancer. I don’t know if you’d call it a premonition or not, but I was not surprised at all when I got the call. Hard as it was to tell the Babe, it was the worst to tell my baby brother, Tim, all 6+ feet of him, lean and lanky, tattooed man. He is the kindest person I’ve known. I’m lucky he’s my best friend after the Babe. He was still reeling from his loss.

Somehow, we all made it this far. And we’ll keep going. It’s what’s in the plan for our lives, I believe. Without being cocky myself, I do find it easier to see the signs God gives me. They are everywhere. See if you can tell where your signs are. They are things you would never have considered, they must be acted upon with logical thoughts and plans, not reckless abandon. While it might be God’s plan for us, we have to do our part. Just practice, it will come to you.

Thank you for all your support and reading. You’re giving me a boost that is important. We’re getting closer and closer to that year mark for blogging. It’s kind of fun to look back, and see how the writing has changed, and how many things I discover about WordPress. I’m a work in progress, and it feels so good! Wash up, Mask up, Be Kind, and I’ll see you tomorrow!

“It’s Not Too Late and I’m Not Too Old!

Fabulous Friday!

Good morning on this beautiful morning at the Home Office in Gretna, Nebraska. It’s sunny and a little breezy today, just perfect for venturing out to our neighbor’s garage sale. I hope they sell everything they don’t love as much and people who buy appreciate their new treasures. Hadley and Connie are wonderful people, and we will miss them so much.

Life offers us so many comings and goings. Some are harder than others. Others are just, “Let’s get together . . . ” and often times we don’t follow through. We need to follow through so we don’t have regrets later on. We all need to. This time of pandemic and pandemonium opened up our eyes, I hope. Those kiddos are never going to be this age again. This is one of the eighteen summers you get with your child before they may leave home for college, the military, or a job. Eighteen sounds like a lot, but trust me, it’s not. It’s so few in the grand scheme of things. It’s a lot of snacks, “Mom, I’m bored,” statements, and back to school shopping.

I loved back to school shopping. When I was a kid, it was the time of a fresh box of crayons, pencils, and new erasers. Other things, too. New underwear. We did not have a clothes dryer until I was a sophomore in high school, or a junior, and Mom hung all laundry on the line to dry. I loved brand new socks, they were so soft, and would never be so again, at least until we finally got a clothes dryer. It may not sound like much, but these things made an impact on our lives, and we have probably forgotten about how lucky we are, with all these modern conveniences.

That said, although we were financially challenged, I miss shopping for my kids, too. It was fun to see what they’d like to wear the next year for school. Oldest son was always jeans and black concert t-shirts. I think he’s still the same fashion maven today. Younger son, was preppy in his time at Westside. He’s been a sharp dresser all his life. Daughter? In late elementary and early middle school, jeans, sweaters, the usual. When high school was on the horizon, it was the gothic look. Wow. It was different.

I let them express their individuality in school clothes. They knew there was a different level for appropriateness for family functions, funerals, weddings, etc. As a parent, it’s important to pick your battles. We wore uniforms to school, so I never had a choice. Whenever a day to wear regular clothes to school came alone, no one knew what to wear. By the time I was a senior, I sewed most of my clothes, so I was able to get creative.

All of this aside, this day marks the thirteenth anniversary of the day my brother’s wife died. Laura was such a beautiful woman. She had a heart full of love for her family, her kids and grandkids, and especially for my brother, Tim. After all the years of being the only girl, I was happy when she joined our family. Her time here was too short. She died so young, it was a terrible loss to everyone, especially her immediate family. We spent a lot of time together while she was ill, and I’m glad for every minute I could help her be less afraid. We had many hours of talking, laughing, and praying. I remember her tremendous spirit. It’s still with us.

Laura, my sister in law. Resting in Peace!

Today, I’m starting my next homework for my novel. It’s amazing how it’s changed, grown, and morphed into something entirely different in the past year. How silly I was at 40K words, thinking I could find an editor! Hahaha! Live and learn. It’s like giving birth, being almost ready to push, then go back to timing contractions because it was a false alarm. I may birth an elephant at this rate!

Have a beautiful Friday, and a safe weekend, friends.

We don’t have any specific plans for the weekend yet, and even if it’s spent at home with our dogs, it’ll be a good one. We’re behind on Yellowstone, so I’d like to watch the last episode sometime. I find it to be a very good story, the plotline is amazing. I’d love to see it written all out, and study some of the things I’ve learned with Sam, my writing coach.

Thank you for reading on this super hot day. The dogs and I are staying in from the heat, and getting creative this afternoon. Hope you have a good weekend. I’ll see you here again tomorrow, be safe. Wear your mask, Wash up. Whatever they’re saying, don’t protest, attend a political rally, or anything silly. Keep your germs away from others and I’ll do the same.

Silent Sunday

Well, judging by the way the street looks, some folks had fun last night. It wasn’t our dogs, that’s for sure. Lexie spent the night in our closet the past two or three nights. She wasn’t afraid of fireworks until last year. One year ago today, Roxie and Lexie got out of our yard. One of the neighbors must have entered our yard to retrieve a firework or something. They left the gate open. Both dogs escaped, someone lit a firecracker, and Roxie (who was petrified of them) ran into the highway and was killed by a car. Here’s the tribute to her, such a naughty girl but such a lover. We miss you, Sweetie. Wait for us at the Rainbow Bridge with Shadow, Mocho, and Mollie. You’ll be in good company.

A year later and we still miss her. The Babe’s heart was breaking the rest of last summer. In September, he had a heart cath that didn’t heal properly. Wound Vac time, complete with Visiting Nurse every other day. In the middle of that, he decided we needed a friend for Lexie. She was just laying around all the time, sleeping. She wouldn’t go outside without us. The Vet said he’s seen dogs mourn for years. (Dab at my tears in eyes right now). How she must have missed her sister!

2014. Roxie and Lexie. Beautiful Blue Eyes!

So now, we have this beautiful Yellow Lab. She’s about 50 pounds by now. Big paws that carry her up and down the steps on the deck to play fetch. First dog we’ve had that would fetch. Must be the breeding in her. The old dogs would just stand and stare at us. “Get it yourself!” was their attitude. She used to have a taste for landscaping cloth, didn’t eat it, just tore it up. Hope she’s over that by now. She still needs to remember to go potty, but she’s filling a void. A big void. I think Roxie would have liked her.

Goldie, with her favorite pastime.

Gavin loves her. He tells us frequently how he misses Roxie. I’m printing all the pictures from all the dogs we’ve had since Gavin has been alive. I’m going to put them in a photo album for him. He’ll be able to look at the pictures and be happy. He’ll get his own dog sometime probably soon. He is just such a dog lover, and I applaud that. Kids need pets. They really need dogs. Something to take care of, to learn responsibility.

Right now, I love how quiet it is on the street. It will hopefully stay that way all day long. There are some strange cars parked all over the place. Lots of people had house parties and didn’t socially distance. I’m going to wear a mask when I go to the store, so maybe that will help this pandemic resolve and I can go to Colorado to meet our new grandson. He was born in January, how I wish we could go now!

Today is the day I dot i’s and cross t’s to make sure my works are ready for my book coach, Sam. I need to send them off to her tonight for tomorrow’s deadline. We have a Zoom meeting on Thursday, and I can’t wait! I will do book stuff today and tomorrow is a Gavin day. We’ll have fun, we always do.

Enjoy the quiet today – except for the leaf blowers the pyromaniacs are using to clean up the street now. So many people can’t operate a broom anymore. They’d rather lose hearing than do sweep. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it. Tomorrow, I’ll see you back here again. Stay safe. Wear a mask. Wash up. Be kind. Be thoughtful. Be empathetic. Someone might really need you to be. And that, it will be good for both of you.

Sunday, Sunday

Were Sundays a special day when you were a kid? They were for us. Not so much for my mom. Since my dad worked at the Omaha World Herald on the night shift, he worked well into the early hours of Sunday. If there were mechanical breakdowns, he could be hours late getting home. Usually, he was able to fulfill his Sunday Mass obligation at the old St. Joe’s Hospital Chapel at 5 a.m., on his way home. He attended Mass with the nurses, and hurried home so Mom could go at 6 a.m. to our parish church. She would get home, wake us kids up, and my older brother and I walked to St. Bridget’s in South Omaha for the 9 a.m. Children’s Mass. We sat separated by gender just like at daily mass, which we were required to attend, too. Sunday had lots of people seated in the pews behind the children.

There was no 5 p.m. Mass during those days. That started in the very late 60’s, early 70’s. To this day, my Protestant friends laugh. They swear Catholics are the only religious denomination who can tell you where the shortest service is, time-wise. I marvel at how true that is. Never about the sermon, or the music, just about the world’s shortest Mass. Crazy!

After we went to Mass, Mom loaded all of us into the family truckster and we would go visit both grandparent’s every Sunday. They were always home. Grandma Jewell baked clover leaf rolls and Caramel Sticky Buns every week. From scratch, no less. Her house smelled heavenly. I can still smell the love when I drive past 3324 Center Street in Omaha. It will always be Grandma’s house to me.

After that, we would go to Grandma Bobell’s house. Grandpa was sometimes mowing the grass or had just finished. We would sit in their shaded backyard and visit. No matter how boring it was, you would never dare say that word out loud. Never. Grandma usually had some concoction of a snack for us. Crackers, store bought cookies, frozen juice. They were exotic treats to us because we didn’t have crackers at home for a snack, and cookies were made from scratch (cheaper back then) and juice? I think not. We drank water. No Kool-Aid or sodas for us. Water. Take it or leave it.

Did it hurt us? Heck no! We even wore our nice clothes all day on Sunday. Sunday-best was a phrase I think people used for a very long time. No pajamas and jeans were not pants anyone wore unless you were a laborer or farmer. No, jeans were not permitted at school events, dances, and we wore uniforms so they were not mainstream until about 1970. Seriously. Little boys wore dress pants/trousers just like their Dad’s and Grandpa’s. They wore a belt, they wore button shirts. There was no skipping on what was acceptable attire. The t-shirt with messages was not on the horizon until the late 70’s or early 80s. We wore leather shoes. Everyone. Tennis shoes were Keds or Converse and were strictly for tennis or basketball. I believe the first jogging shoes were the blue suede/leather ones. The fad started in the gay community and grew from there.

I love a good pair of jeans and a comfy t-shirt, believe me. I do think there is a lot to say for how we dress as a society now. We have gone beyond casual/stay at home comfy/pajamas for going out in public. We have become kind of slovenly. With that, our demeanor and speech has become so as well. There is no “polite company” any more it seems. I’m just as guilty as the rest of the world for dressing casual and for very casual speech. Guilty as I charge. I think there is a lot of respect for ourselves and our fellow humans we could regain if we could monitor how we are when we leave our front doors. We would show more respect for ourselves. We would show more respect for each other. We would garner more respect, too.

I’m not saying wear suits everywhere, I’m saying wear well fitting clothes, clean clothes, and you will be met with better reactions. It should be part of everyone. Growing up the Babe and I didn’t have a lot as kids, but we were clean. Soap and water are still cheap. Clean clothes take effort but they are worth it. Pull your pants up, make sure they fit. Don’t send a bad message with your wardrobe. Be respectful. You will be respected.

There was a Black Lives Matter march of a different sort in Omaha yesterday. A group of young black men, dressed in suit coats, dress pants, shirts, ties, shoes, belts, who marched from Joslyn Museum on 24th and Dodge to somewhere downtown/Old Market area. I searched and could not find where, sorry! They have the right idea.

I believe we can all garner more respect when our appearance and demeanor is reflected in our dress, attitude, and actions. There is anger, and right now, although justified, I believe it is out of control. We all need to dial it back a notch or ten and use the anger for constructive dialogue. For it to work, we all need to be on the same page. All of us. Unless we do this soon, I think we’re doomed. And I would hate to see that happen to my country. The greatest country in the world. The United States of America. Let’s learn our real history, even the ugly parts. We need to remember how we’ve been oppressive, immoral, amoral, and committed grave errors for us to not go there again.

We all judge people. We hate to admit it but we do. Be aware and stop yourself from doing it. Especially if they are a lot different than you are. Check your prejudices and comments. About people of color. About policemen. About old people. About young people. I’m trying. Try with me.

Thank you for reading today. I appreciate your support. I’ll be here again tomorrow, as will our grandson Gavin, the dogs, and we’ll see you all then Be Kind. Be Thoughtful. Be Respectful. Wash your hands. Wear your mask. Stay outside.

Stupendous Saturday

It’s another Saturday here at the Home Office at Gretna, Nebraska. Another decent day, and it will be in the 60s and 70s next week. For the first time in about ten days, I’ve left the house to go with the Babe to his office in the VFW Post 2503 in Omaha. It feels strange to be out of the house, yet I don’t want to venture too far away. I feel the best at home, truthfully.

Our musician friends are making it easier to be quarantined. There are many local and national performers who are doing FB live concerts from their homes to ours. Some are posting previous performances to keep the interest piqued. All of them are done to help us get away from what’s going on right now, even if just for an hour. You will feel better after listening to music, I guarantee it.

That said, our good friend, Jimmy Weber, is performing tonight from 8 – 9 p.m. Just go to his FB page, Jimmy Weber Music, or Jimmy Weber and watch. You’ll be glad you did! Singer and Songwriter Rick Tiger and a friend will share some songs tomorrow afternoon from 3 – 4 p.m. You’ll enjoy this one, too. I’m so happy to be able to share these events with all of you, it’ll help reduce your stress and introduce you to two of the nicest and talented men I know. I’m so lucky to call them both friends. Enjoy!

This pandemic is going to get worse before it gets better, according to some of the experts. This means we will be under these stresses for a while to come. It is important to put things into perspective and be calm. Yes, things have gotten away from me several times already. I freely admit it. Some days, I’m terrified for our families, our old folks and our babies. I am afraid for myself since I want to see those grandkids all grow up too. There is way too much for all of us to lose, and that’s not even talking about the financial aspect of it. We’ve all survived with less money, fewer belongings, and in tougher times. God will be good to us.

I am going to make masks for my family should they want any. And I’m going to create from my studio, deck, and/or patio every day. It is what I know will make me feel better. You make sure you find what will make you feel better and do it. Music, creating, and being with my best friend top my list. The Babe is true blue in good times and in bad times, as I am with him. I have learned, however, that he has many women friends, whom I’ll gladly share him with. After all, he shares me with my men friends. It’s a grown up relationship, no jealousy, just as it should be. Lucky me!

Truer words never spoken!

I want to thank you for reading today. I suppose we have dawdled enough today, and it’s time to publish this post. We ended up having drive through lunch and going for ice cream on the way home. I’m ready to cocoon again for awhile. We don’t ask for much, and we’re so richly rewarded!

The photo above and story that goes with it is humorous yet sadly true. Just remember the moral of the story as you go about this quarantine. Wash your hands, stay home, and keep the jackasses under control. Thank you for reading today, tune into Jimmy Weber tonight and I’ll see you again here tomorrow. Be safe until then.

Sunny Saturday

It is a beautiful blue-sky, sunny day in Gretna, Nebraska. The day reminds me of one that starts out cool and turns beautiful. Like when you rise early and load the car to go on vacation. You remember vacations! I imagine we’ll all want to go on one when this Coronavirus is over. It could be awhile.

I’ve always thought these to be stunning, but not too functional. Perhaps their time has come?
This is pretty much all on my mind today.
Blog, write, and later some block sewing. And thinking of our grandkids. I’m missing them all!

The kids and grandkids are all on my mind this morning. I’m praying for all of them, hoping all are well and going to stay that way. In the family are: a chef, a Federal Law Enforcement Officer, his stay at home wife who is a great homeschooler, a truck driver, a real estate agent, two who manage trucking of railway goods delivered to trainyards by the Union Pacific railroad (essential personnel), a health care worker, and a project manager director. Some of them are parents of our four grandkids, two in Omaha area, one in Maryland, one in Colorado. That’s a lot of diversity and some important, essential people on that list. They may be more exposed than most, and we have to keep living our lives. With common sense at the helm.

Common sense for them will be adequate distance from others while on the job, probably avoiding the subways, and washing their hands – a lot. All we can do is check in on them once in awhile and pray we’ll all come out on the other side of this ok. I believe we will. If not, we will learn how to deal with the end results.

The Babe tells me the last time he felt this way was in Vietnam. Not having any idea of what will happen is the feeling of loss of control. I get it. My feeling of loss of control was in December, 1995, when I had a tumor compressing my spinal cord and in a week lost the ability to walk without assistance. That was the worst feeling in the world, as my daughter was still at home. My sons had just moved into an apartment. I had to get better for my kids. And for me. The Babe had his wife, Sandy to come home to. He was never the same for her.

I would bet every adult who has had a feeling like this is having flashbacks, dreams, whatever there is that tells us we know this could go very badly. Acknowledge them. Don’t let yourself dwell on them, though. Yes, we were afraid after 9/11. We need to remember how we, as a country of free individuals, came to a new normal. A new normal of a free people. We will do that again. Things will not be the same as they are now. Hopefully we will be appreciative of people who really matter in life. Doctors, scientists, first responders, nurses, truck drivers, train operators , and our military all keep our counntry going. It’s time we reorient our thinking to look up to people who really make a difference in our every day life, not sports figures, movie stars, celebrities, and people who are famous for absolutely nothing. I find it very sad we need to get a Kardashian to go on social media to get young people to understand they need to stay home while school is out. It tells me some have lost their concept of real life. You won’t find it on a reality show, despite all you hear on social media or television or in the movies.

In the meantime, keep yourself busy with positive things. Create something with words, music, paints, anything you may have around you. Be inventive. Write a note to your Grandma or Great Uncle and mail it. They will love it! Talk across the fence to your neighbors. Take your dog for a walk. It’ll do you both good. Get some fresh air. Thank you for reading. I’ll be here tomorrow and hope you are, too. Now for some creating!

These folks have my deepest respect and admiration.

Thoughtful Thursday

Yesterday, when I was driving to pick up Mom for therapy, I drove past our Church, St. Bridget’s. The street was filled with cars in the parking. Many, many cars. Then I remembered it was Mr. Kaluza’s funeral. Mr. Kaluza was the Omaha Police Officer who lived with his family up the alley from us. We all knew him, and he knew all of us in the neighborhood. He worked very hard along with his wife to raise their six kids. I was friends with Peggy and Karen, Johnny was my brother Tom’s friend, and Kenny, Terry, and Colleen somehow fit with my brothers Steve and Tim.

Those six kids are so fortunate to have had both of their parents all this time – their dad was in his early 90s as is their mom. They still lived on their acreage in Springfield. I was moved to tears, though, as I passed the Church and noticed the row of motorcycles across from the hearse. Civilian motorcycles, and the two motorcycles for the escorts to ride. The escorts were also retired police officers. Mr. Kaluza rode past our house every day, in full OPD uniform, on his majestic Police Motorcycle. He always revved it a little to impress my little brothers. They have ridden since they were old enough. Lifelong passions for motorcycles were inspired by the officers such as Mr. Kaluza. How lucky we were to have him in our neighborhood. He was such a nice man. He loved kids. I found out later the civilian motorcycles were grandson’s who ride. What a neat thing, to help lead the procession.

Mom really teared up when we went back past the Church. She told me then another current neighbor died as well. Mr. Biggs lived down the street. Mom is the last one of many groups. She outlived all the old neighbors, except for Mrs. Kaluza. Mom’s the last one living in the old neighborhood. She’s about the last one of all the other people who moved into the neighborhood after the 1970’s. She’s the last of her sisters. And today, she looked very, very tired and worn. Insomnia is not her friend but it visited her again last night. Being overtired makes her vision worse. Yesterday started out very foggy, and that didn’t help. Again today, in this helpless situation, all I can do is pray for her and my brothers. And my kids and myself.

It is finally a nice sunny day here in Gretna. The day will be filled with errands. Grocery shopping. It is supposed to “snow” over the weekend, don’t know if it’s going to be a dusting or a blizzard. We’ll see when it’s over. Addison thinks it should just jump to summer. The minds of our kids. She is happy Spring Break is next week. It’s amazing kids go on trips for spring break. Little kids. Even twenty years ago, when my kids were in high school, they had friends who went on Ski Trips or Beach Vacations to resorts just like college kids do. It amazes me how people can afford such luxuries.

I must say, I’m so glad Harvey Weinstein was sentenced to 23 years. He deserves to pay for being a predator. The system tried him, proved him a predator, and has justly sentenced him. If he lives out his sentence, I’ll be surprised. It’s in God’s hands now. If each and every man accused of being a predator was a convicted predator and sentenced, I would be happy they were. It needs to be said. Even Trump, especially Bill Clinton, and anyone else in politics. That said, I was devastated when Bill Cosby was tried and found guilty. The one person who we thought we could trust with our children. A great responsibility was on his shoulders, being the first black man who broke the color barrier on American television. Great things are expected of a groundbreaker. And one of those things should be they are trustworthy.

And in my disappointment I will continue to remember. There are many, many more very good and moral men who touch our lives. Men like Mr. Kaluza. Men like my dad. Men like all my uncles. Men like many of my cousins. And that is where we get our momentum to continue on in spite of disappointments with life. It’s the every day heroes who make the difference. Rest in peace, Mr. Kaluza. The eyes of the neighborhood kids were on you. And you were a great role model. Thank you.

And thanks to all of you who read today. I appreciate it. I’ll see you tomorrow, hope you stop by.