A priceless gem I just found. I wrote this probably about fifth or sixth grade. Pretty appropriate for me, and for me right now.
Some days I just don't wanna smile.
I call them "frowny days."
My whole family laughs at me
When I have frowny days. They
Say I'm grumpy, but I'm not, really.
I'm just having a frowny day!
Even the dog can't make me smile.
CANDY doesn't even get a grin.
I'm just not in a smiley mood.
My sister dares me to not smile
And says she'll tickle me if I
Don't smile, so she does and I pretend
To cry. She gets in trouble, and
My insides smile, but not my
Mouth.
One time when I had a frowny day,
All the kids at school thought my
Pet mouse had died. But she was
Still alive. I just didn't want to smile!
Then something sad really did
Happen. My best friend said she
Was moving to Las Vegas. I was so
Sad I DID cry, right in front
Of everyone. It was really embarrassing
So I hid in the bathroom until
All the kids went home.
My friend wrote me a letter all
The way from Las Vegas! It would have
Made me smile, but I was having
A frowny day, so I didn't.
I told mom and dad it was okay if
I had frowny days, because they were
Worried about me. I told them it
Helped me to have more smiley days
If I had a frowny day once in a while,
And to keep giving me hugs and kisses
Like they always do, so I can save them
All for extra frowny days. Even my sister
Played a game with me and my brother got me
A flower from the neighbor's garden.
I'm glad I have frowny days because
They make smiley days lots better!
Saturday, June 21, 2014
The Basement
This is a poem that my brother Adam wrote, I think for a class in college. In my parents' house there is a root cellar, complete with dirt walls, crawl space that leads outside, and also a portion of the ceiling where you can see light from the yard above. I didn't mind going just to the bottom of the stairs to retrieve a can of corn or fruit cocktail, but to have to go all the way to the back to pick out some bottled fruit was too scary! When I read this poem, I was relieved I wasn't the only one who was scared of the basement. It is also the PERFECT description of that root cellar.
My name is called. Chills
run down my arms and my heart becomes
tightly clenched as I hear the words, "I need you
to go and fetch."
I go to the door that, but for the latch, would disappear
into the wall surrounding it. Once unlatched,
the door swings outward, releasing a grave-cool breath
that smells of earth. Next to the dangling
broom and mop, hanging by their necks, the light switch is found.
I strain to lift the switch, it stubbornly
refuses, and desperation causes my heart to pound.
After an endless struggle
that lasts only seconds, with a click
that loudly echoes, the switch acquiesces to light provide.
The stairs before me
descend, steep and three miles long. Each step
precarious,
the aging wood creaks
beneath my light footsteps. Various strata
my descent mark; first wood,
then brick,
then stone.
Upon the last steps I duck my head; even my sleight
height is almost too much
to pass the overhang. I reach the rough
concrete floor and feel unseen eyes
register my unwelcome presence.
A hesitant step propels me
forward; to the furthest reaches I must go. On my left
I see the cans of peas, fruit cocktail and corn,
both creamed and kernel. The metal trash bin, once
its lid is pried, reveals an open, twenty-five pound
bag of sugar, pure and white. A small pinch is sweet, with a metallic taste, very light.
A sharp pop, then a muffled roar make me jump and turn
to face my foe. I find my fear is misplaced; the only things I see
are the water heater, and the furnace,
which gives off an orange glow. My eyes follow
a series of dusty brown-grey cobwebs
to the dark hole that leads to the crawl space under the house.
I quickly avert my gaze so that I won't see
the hidden dangers lurking inside.
Continuing past the boxes of holiday decorations,
I pause
next to the old highchair, yellow and white, with a teddy bear
painted on the back. His cheerful grin seems to mock
the memories of babies crying from fingers pinched by the tray.
Reaching above this torture chair, I turn on the old shop lamp. It's bare bulb reveals more webs, reflecting dully in the beam of light.
My goal is exposed:
a rainbow of mad scientist's bottles, arranged neatly
on the shelves, in rows.
First rejected are the bottles of thick, golden-brown gloop.
Applesauce is not what I seek.
Next passed are the yellow-orange hemispheres floating in amber syrup.
Apricots are not what I seek.
Flesh-colored halves, floating in clear liquid do not tempt me.
Pears are not what I seek.
In viscous purple, the marble-sized globes
of cherries are what I seek.
Two select bottles now hugged tightly to my chest, my pace quickens
as my steps I retrace. Yet I dare not run for fear of pursuit.
The steep steps I climb, my fears behind,
it is time for dinner.
My name is called. Chills
run down my arms and my heart becomes
tightly clenched as I hear the words, "I need you
to go and fetch."
I go to the door that, but for the latch, would disappear
into the wall surrounding it. Once unlatched,
the door swings outward, releasing a grave-cool breath
that smells of earth. Next to the dangling
broom and mop, hanging by their necks, the light switch is found.
I strain to lift the switch, it stubbornly
refuses, and desperation causes my heart to pound.
After an endless struggle
that lasts only seconds, with a click
that loudly echoes, the switch acquiesces to light provide.
The stairs before me
descend, steep and three miles long. Each step
precarious,
the aging wood creaks
beneath my light footsteps. Various strata
my descent mark; first wood,
then brick,
then stone.
Upon the last steps I duck my head; even my sleight
height is almost too much
to pass the overhang. I reach the rough
concrete floor and feel unseen eyes
register my unwelcome presence.
A hesitant step propels me
forward; to the furthest reaches I must go. On my left
I see the cans of peas, fruit cocktail and corn,
both creamed and kernel. The metal trash bin, once
its lid is pried, reveals an open, twenty-five pound
bag of sugar, pure and white. A small pinch is sweet, with a metallic taste, very light.
A sharp pop, then a muffled roar make me jump and turn
to face my foe. I find my fear is misplaced; the only things I see
are the water heater, and the furnace,
which gives off an orange glow. My eyes follow
a series of dusty brown-grey cobwebs
to the dark hole that leads to the crawl space under the house.
I quickly avert my gaze so that I won't see
the hidden dangers lurking inside.
Continuing past the boxes of holiday decorations,
I pause
next to the old highchair, yellow and white, with a teddy bear
painted on the back. His cheerful grin seems to mock
the memories of babies crying from fingers pinched by the tray.
Reaching above this torture chair, I turn on the old shop lamp. It's bare bulb reveals more webs, reflecting dully in the beam of light.
My goal is exposed:
a rainbow of mad scientist's bottles, arranged neatly
on the shelves, in rows.
First rejected are the bottles of thick, golden-brown gloop.
Applesauce is not what I seek.
Next passed are the yellow-orange hemispheres floating in amber syrup.
Apricots are not what I seek.
Flesh-colored halves, floating in clear liquid do not tempt me.
Pears are not what I seek.
In viscous purple, the marble-sized globes
of cherries are what I seek.
Two select bottles now hugged tightly to my chest, my pace quickens
as my steps I retrace. Yet I dare not run for fear of pursuit.
The steep steps I climb, my fears behind,
it is time for dinner.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
the psychiatric hotline
Hello, welcome to the
Psychiatric Hotline:
Psychiatric Hotline:
*If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly
*If you are co-dependent, please ask someone else to press 2.
*If you have multiple personalities, please press 3, 4, 5, and 6.
*If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want. Just stay on the line and we will trace your call.
*If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.
*If you are manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press, no one will answer.
Friday, June 13, 2014
who writes this crap?!?!
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote in her book "On Death and Dying" that there is generally five stages in the grieving process. I am sure this is not fool-proof and varies from person to person, but I have seen people in different stages so I feel it is somewhat applicable. I think I am still pretty much in isolation mode. I am not in denial; I am fully aware of what has happened. I just don't really want to associate with people in the "real" world. Family is okay and Becky because she knows all too well what I'm going through. Strong opinions are not my friend right now. Patience and understanding are my best friends. Sleep is my lover. All I want to do is sleep. This stinks.
1. Denial and Isolation
The first reaction to learning of terminal illness or death of a cherished loved one is to deny the reality of the situation. It is a normal reaction to rationalize overwhelming emotions. It is a defense mechanism that buffers the immediate shock. We block out the words and hide from the facts. This is a temporary response that carries us through the first wave of pain.
2. Anger
As the masking effects of denial and isolation begin to wear, reality and its pain re-emerge. We are not ready. The intense emotion is deflected from our vulnerable core, redirected and expressed instead as anger. The anger may be aimed at inanimate objects, complete strangers, friends or family. Anger may be directed at our dying or deceased loved one. Rationally, we know the person is not to be blamed. Emotionally, however, we may resent the person for causing us pain or for leaving us. We feel guilty for being angry, and this makes us more angry.
Do not hesitate to ask your doctor to give you extra time or to explain just once more the details of your loved one’s illness. Arrange a special appointment or ask that he telephone you at the end of his day. Ask for clear answers to your questions regarding medical diagnosis and treatment. Understand the options available to you. Take your time.The doctor who diagnosed the illness and was unable to cure the disease might become a convenient target. Health professionals deal with death and dying every day. That does not make them immune to the suffering of their patients or to those who grieve for them.
3. Bargaining
The normal reaction to feelings of helplessness and vulnerability is often a need to regain control–
- If only we had sought medical attention sooner…
- If only we got a second opinion from another doctor…
- If only we had tried to be a better person toward them…
Secretly, we may make a deal with God or our higher power in an attempt to postpone the inevitable. This is a weaker line of defense to protect us from the painful reality.
4. Depression
Two types of depression are associated with mourning. The first one is a reaction to practical implications relating to the loss. Sadness and regret predominate this type of depression. We worry about the costs and burial. We worry that, in our grief, we have spent less time with others that depend on us. This phase may be eased by simple clarification and reassurance. We may need a bit of helpful cooperation and a few kind words. The second type of depression is more subtle and, in a sense, perhaps more private. It is our quiet preparation to separate and to bid our loved one farewell. Sometimes all we really need is a hug.
5. Acceptance
Reaching this stage of mourning is a gift not afforded to everyone. Death may be sudden and unexpected or we may never see beyond our anger or denial. It is not necessarily a mark of bravery to resist the inevitable and to deny ourselves the opportunity to make our peace. This phase is marked by withdrawal and calm. This is not a period of happiness and must be distinguished from depression.
Loved ones that are terminally ill or aging appear to go through a final period of withdrawal. This is by no means a suggestion that they are aware of their own impending death or such, only that physical decline may be sufficient to produce a similar response. Their behavior implies that it is natural to reach a stage at which social interaction is limited. The dignity and grace shown by our dying loved ones may well be their last gift to us.
Coping with loss is a ultimately a deeply personal and singular experience — nobody can help you go through it more easily or understand all the emotions that you’re going through. But others can be there for you and help comfort you through this process. The best thing you can do is to allow yourself to feel the grief as it comes over you. Resisting it only will prolong the natural process of healing.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
when you are supposed to be doing other things...
I just needed a small break. Wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday; haven't showered in two days. Excellent! I have brushed my teeth, though. Does that count for something? I will shower today, eventually. Promise.
Some of Steve Wright's Classics:
It doesn't matter what temperature the room is, it's always room temperature.
I was an only child, eventually.
I lost a button hole.
I got a dog and named him "Stay." Now, I go "Come here, Stay!" After a while, the dog went insane and wouldn't move at all.
Last year for Christmas, I got a humidifier and dehumidifier. I thought I'd put them in the same room and let them fight it out.
Right now I'm having amnesia and deja-vu at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before.
In my house there's this light switch that doesn't go to anything. Every so often I would flick it on and off just to check. Yesterday, I got a call from a woman in Germany. She said, "Cut it out."
I got pulled over by a cop and he said, "Do you know the speed limit here is 55 miles per hour?" So I said, "Oh, that's okay. I'm not going that far."
Cross-country skiing is great if you live in a small country.
I went to the museum where they had all the heads and arms from the statues that are in all the other museums.
When I was crossing the border into Canada, they asked if I had any firearms with me. I said, "Well, what do you need?"
I planted some bird seed. A bird grew. Now I don't know what to feed it.
You know how it is when you go to be the subject of a psychology experiment, and nobody else shows up and you think maybe that's part of the experiment?
The sign said, "Eight items or less." So I changed my name to Les.
I had some eyeglasses. I was walking down the street when suddenly the prescription ran out.
I went to a general store. They wouldn't let me buy anything specific.
I love to go shopping. I love to freak out salespeople. They ask me if they can help me and I say, "Have you got anything I'd like?" Then they ask me what size I need and I say, "Extra medium."
I busted a mirror and got seven years bad luck, but my lawyer thinks he can get me five.
I have an answering machine in my car. It says, "I'm home now. But leave a message and I'll call when I'm out."
On the other hand, you have different fingers.
Some of Steve Wright's Classics:
It doesn't matter what temperature the room is, it's always room temperature.
I was an only child, eventually.
I lost a button hole.
I got a dog and named him "Stay." Now, I go "Come here, Stay!" After a while, the dog went insane and wouldn't move at all.
Last year for Christmas, I got a humidifier and dehumidifier. I thought I'd put them in the same room and let them fight it out.
Right now I'm having amnesia and deja-vu at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before.
In my house there's this light switch that doesn't go to anything. Every so often I would flick it on and off just to check. Yesterday, I got a call from a woman in Germany. She said, "Cut it out."
I got pulled over by a cop and he said, "Do you know the speed limit here is 55 miles per hour?" So I said, "Oh, that's okay. I'm not going that far."
Cross-country skiing is great if you live in a small country.
I went to the museum where they had all the heads and arms from the statues that are in all the other museums.
When I was crossing the border into Canada, they asked if I had any firearms with me. I said, "Well, what do you need?"
I planted some bird seed. A bird grew. Now I don't know what to feed it.
You know how it is when you go to be the subject of a psychology experiment, and nobody else shows up and you think maybe that's part of the experiment?
The sign said, "Eight items or less." So I changed my name to Les.
I had some eyeglasses. I was walking down the street when suddenly the prescription ran out.
I went to a general store. They wouldn't let me buy anything specific.
I love to go shopping. I love to freak out salespeople. They ask me if they can help me and I say, "Have you got anything I'd like?" Then they ask me what size I need and I say, "Extra medium."
I busted a mirror and got seven years bad luck, but my lawyer thinks he can get me five.
I have an answering machine in my car. It says, "I'm home now. But leave a message and I'll call when I'm out."
On the other hand, you have different fingers.
Monday, June 9, 2014
that's what you get
This is what happens when you start going through old folders that have been kept for you for who-knows-what reason: you find really random crap!! Because I need a laugh, and I'm sure you all need one, too... because I said so... I will post one of my findings. This was a forward that my Auntie Raelene sent me back in 1999, my senior year of high school:
The Wisdom of a Child:
*Never trust a dog to watch your food.
-Patrick, age 10
*When you want something expensive, ask your grandparents.
-Matthew, age 12
*Never smart off to a teacher whose eyes and ears are twitching.
-Andrew, age 9
*Sleep in your clothes so you'll be dressed in the morning.
-Stephanie, age 8
*Never try to hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk.
-Rosemary, age 7
*Never ask for anything that costs more than five dollars when your parents are doing taxes.
-Carol, age 9
*Never bug a pregnant mom.
-Nicholas, age 11
*Don't ever be too full for dessert.
-Kelly, age 10
*When your dad is mad and asks you, "Do I look stupid?" don't answer him.
-Heather, age 16
*Never tell your mom her diet's not working.
-Michael, age 14
*Don't pick on your sister when she's holding a baseball bat.
-Joel, age 12
*When you get a bad grade in school, show it to your mom when she's on the phone.
-Alyesha, 13
*Never try to baptize a cat.
-Laura, age 13
*Never spit on a roller coaster.
-Scott, age 11
*Beware of cafeteria food when it looks like it's moving.
-Rob, age 10
*Remember you're never too old to hold your dad's hand.
-Molly, age 11
*Listen to your brain. It has lots of information.
-Chelsey, age 7
*Never dare your little brother to paint the family car.
-Phillip, age 13
*Forget the cake. Go for the icing!
-Cynthia, age 8
The Wisdom of a Child:
*Never trust a dog to watch your food.
-Patrick, age 10
*When you want something expensive, ask your grandparents.
-Matthew, age 12
*Never smart off to a teacher whose eyes and ears are twitching.
-Andrew, age 9
*Sleep in your clothes so you'll be dressed in the morning.
-Stephanie, age 8
*Never try to hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk.
-Rosemary, age 7
*Never ask for anything that costs more than five dollars when your parents are doing taxes.
-Carol, age 9
*Never bug a pregnant mom.
-Nicholas, age 11
*Don't ever be too full for dessert.
-Kelly, age 10
*When your dad is mad and asks you, "Do I look stupid?" don't answer him.
-Heather, age 16
*Never tell your mom her diet's not working.
-Michael, age 14
*Don't pick on your sister when she's holding a baseball bat.
-Joel, age 12
*When you get a bad grade in school, show it to your mom when she's on the phone.
-Alyesha, 13
*Never try to baptize a cat.
-Laura, age 13
*Never spit on a roller coaster.
-Scott, age 11
*Beware of cafeteria food when it looks like it's moving.
-Rob, age 10
*Remember you're never too old to hold your dad's hand.
-Molly, age 11
*Listen to your brain. It has lots of information.
-Chelsey, age 7
*Never dare your little brother to paint the family car.
-Phillip, age 13
*Forget the cake. Go for the icing!
-Cynthia, age 8
Saturday, June 7, 2014
stuff and things
This morning I got up early-ish and took some of Mommy's funeral flowers to the cemetery. Since she is buried in Alton and I am in Kanab, they weren't for her.
I found my nephew Joseph Keith's grave, finally, and shared some with him. He was born when I was four years old, and only lived a few hours. I cleaned some grass clippings off his headstone and had a small chat with him.
I also shared some flowers with Autumn Aziz, an old grade school friend who died our senior year of high school. I also chatted with her for a bit and admired all the decorations around her headstone. I felt it was very appropriate to share with these two, and felt very calm and at peace while visiting with them.
I have pushed many emotions deep inside so I can focus on cleaning out Mommy's house. I know she understands it has to be done, and I don't feel she is still tied to the house at all. I tried on some skirts of hers this morning, and I think she was happy that I could use them. She was always so sensible.
Yesterday my sister's and I read through her diaries from her senior year of high school and first year of college. Oh my word!! Or as she wrote: "Wow!" and "o-o-o-o-o!!" She was as boy crazy as I was, maybe more. We were so caught up in the drama of Tony, Gib, Jack, Gerry, and Roger... I can't wait to type those up for the family to read.
The mourning and healing process is quite strange. I take it as it comes, and take one day at a time. I still don't know what I am going to do without my Mommy, but I am so glad for the peace I feel within myself right now.
I found my nephew Joseph Keith's grave, finally, and shared some with him. He was born when I was four years old, and only lived a few hours. I cleaned some grass clippings off his headstone and had a small chat with him.
I also shared some flowers with Autumn Aziz, an old grade school friend who died our senior year of high school. I also chatted with her for a bit and admired all the decorations around her headstone. I felt it was very appropriate to share with these two, and felt very calm and at peace while visiting with them.
I have pushed many emotions deep inside so I can focus on cleaning out Mommy's house. I know she understands it has to be done, and I don't feel she is still tied to the house at all. I tried on some skirts of hers this morning, and I think she was happy that I could use them. She was always so sensible.
Yesterday my sister's and I read through her diaries from her senior year of high school and first year of college. Oh my word!! Or as she wrote: "Wow!" and "o-o-o-o-o!!" She was as boy crazy as I was, maybe more. We were so caught up in the drama of Tony, Gib, Jack, Gerry, and Roger... I can't wait to type those up for the family to read.
The mourning and healing process is quite strange. I take it as it comes, and take one day at a time. I still don't know what I am going to do without my Mommy, but I am so glad for the peace I feel within myself right now.
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