Thursday, September 11, 2014


I sit here stunned by the silence. The cat, named Elvis in honor of his black velvet fur, is quite content. I have a lovely glass of wine, and a new book beckoning me. All is right with the world. But my thoughts turn to 2001.

I was at my parents. The two of them, the two children, and me. Our sons were the ripe old ages of three, and four. Just yesterday our younger son reminded me that he was too young to have any real memories of that day. Of course, part of that can be attributed to the adults surrounding both children. While Daddy sat in the bedroom, his gold recliner at attention while he watched the nonstop coverage with both an unwillingness to participate, and in inability to look away, Momma, and I traveled the hall. We took turns. One of us would be in the living room, Cartoon Network providing a respite from the horrors down the hall. Children laughed, fought, played, and argued while the world was full of ashes, dust, and fire. News came that a friend had given birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl. Still the world was aflame. Friends who might be in harms way were located, thankfully safe. We were untouched by tragedy...but none of us were untouched by the tragedy. The uncertainty reaching the remote reaches of North Carolina. The prayers, and the horror, too.

Too often we ignore the evil of the world. Most of us have a desire to embrace the good, and run from the evil. Our sons are now 16, and 17. College is on the very near horizon.  As is registering for the draft. Our younger son discusses a military career after college. We have friends whose sons discuss it sooner, and friends who have sons already in the military. 9-11 is such a simple moniker for a day which changed our world.

I believe stories are an integral part of the world. We learn through stories. We should share our stories. Where we were, who we were with, how we felt. Because through remembering, through sharing with the next generation, perhaps, we can make a better world. Eradicating evil. Thank you to all who serve. Thank you to all who sacrifice.

Monday, August 25, 2014

You Can Depend on Dewey

Anybody out there who believes in those moments? The ones that take your breath away and make you believe completely in a higher power - those are the moments. When your child is born, when someone you love dies, when a rainbow appears, when a song comes on or maybe a music box plays without being wound up - those are the moments. One of my moments happened last week. 

I saw the boys through the first day of school, and then I was gone for the week. 
Momma, and I had worked out our schedule of what needed to be done, day by day. On the list - visiting her credit union. She had this check in Daddy's name. It was a small check, but anyone who has ever tried to work on an estate knows what a pain some of this is. So just as planned on day three of my visit, we went to the credit union. Our credit union has a long row of tellers, but we had timed it well, and there wasn't a line. This lovely young girl called us down to her spot. And there it was - our sign. An ink pen sat there. Someone had left it behind. Or maybe God did. Because it had my Daddy's name on it. I noticed it first. I pointed to the pen to Momma. As she gasped over seeing Dewey on a pen, I rolled it ever so slightly, and we were even more in awe. For on that pen was also a slogan. The slogan, "You can depend on Dewey". Daddy was a dependable sort. He planned, and he worked hard. Still Momma has wondered if she's been making the right decisions. My brothers, and I have assured her that she is making the right choices. It felt as if a sign was sent from heaven. She could depend on Daddy, and he knew it was all OK.

So today is Daddy's birthday, and I always knew it would be a hard day. Father's Day was hard, today was hard, and I can't say I'm looking forward to ECU's kickoff on Saturday night. It's the first ECU football game that I can remember that I don't have Daddy to tell me I'm wrong about something. I'll miss that even though I still have a husband, and teenagers so it's not like I'll miss out completely on the experience of being wrong.

We still love you, Daddy. Thank you for being dependable. I hope I'm raising sons to be as dependable as you, and Pa Cooper always were. Happy Birthday in heaven. The teller let Momma keep the pen you sent. She still loves you, too.

Sunday, August 10, 2014


My last blog was in June. In July I turned 54, I worked on my father's estate, I pressure washed, I cleaned, I organized, I repaired, I did everything I could do to keep busy. I didn't write. Yet, it's the one thing I kept thinking of as something I wanted to do.

I see stuff that I want to comment on, but I don't. Like how Kate Hudson is designing these wild looking yoga pants. One look at them, and all I could think is - only a Hollywood actress would think any self-respecting women would put THAT on her butt. Even starving would NOT make that look ok on my rear end.  And I have to say, there's always a comment I can come up with about the Kardashians. 

Also Facebook has the most fascinating view of me based on the "suggestions" it comes up with. Apparently I'm a liberal, gun-toting, overweight, old woman/man with questionable taste in decor. I may resemble some of those characterizations, but it's difficult to cover them all, even for a Southern Momma.

Grief is a process. Yep - it sure is. Hubby has started listening to country music, and one good friend said our life has been like a country music song. I LOVED THAT COMMENT. Anything with a tint of humor is so welcome, and that cracked me up. Need to find me a broken pick up truck...dang it, and the cat don't resemble a hound dog...but other then that, I see her point.

So I want to start back writing. It's so cathartic...ten dollar word, right there. I need to figure out how to get back to writing. There's so much coming up that is just ripe for commentary. Our oldest son will be applying for college. Our younger son wants to work on his Eagle Scout award. Estates need to be settled, and a car needs to be repaired again. Teenagers drive, and drive us crazy in the process. My Momma adjusts to single life.

So bear with's been in the way. But I want to write, and I will.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

This is for You, Daddy

"This is for you, Daddy." Stevie Nicks at the beginning of "Landslide" on "The Dance" Album

My husband and I are well suited to each other. Momma has often said that she couldn't have designed one better for me. We have a lot in common. This year we have one more thing in common. We've lost our fathers, and this has been the first Father's Day for each of us with no one to call or send a card to. My husband would admit - I was the one sending the cards. It became a point of humor for us. I would say, "You sent a card that said..." And he would grin, and say, "I'm so thoughtful." But cards or no cards, love exists.

"Tell me, where does the spirit go when you die?" "Annabel" - The Duhks
"Tell me, did you sail across the sun?" "Drops of Jupiter" - Train

My Daddy is gone. Momma said yesterday that she kept thinking she would wake up, and he would be there. I told her I knew exactly what she meant. Because I do. I think that puts us in one of those stages. My stage involves Hostess Big Wheels (that's what they were called when Daddy bought them for me almost every day my sixth grade year, and that's what I'm calling them), some Jack and Coke, and digging what's left of my fingernails into my palm to prevent tears. A friend once told me that we write to learn about ourselves. I've learned a lot this past year, but not written a lot. Another friend reminded me that the shower is a great place to sob. I am so very clean - so is the shower stall.

"Up all night, I could not sleep. The whiskey that I drank was cheap." "South City Midnight Lady" - The Doobie Brothers

"And I confess that I'm only holding on by a thin, thin thread." "Sad" - Maroon 5

"Life goes on. It gets so heavy. The wheel breaks the butterfly." "Paradise" - Coldplay

I wonder if I've been kind enough to others when they've experienced grief. This has been such a constant presence in my life this last year. We've not only lost our fathers, but my mother-in-law passed away, a favorite uncle, and a favorite aunt, a loved cousin, even our beloved dog. Our older son can actually write in his upcoming college applications that he lost three grandparents during his junior year of high school. What a dubious distinction. I will say it provides a certain perspective on the other stuff like needing a new transmission in a 2014 vehicle, the broken sprinkler head that was pointing towards the golf course flooding the green, the broken outside water faucet that was dripping for who knows how long (can't wait to see the water bill), the kid who ignored my explanation of how a car battery can be drained resulting in his first lesson involving jumper cables, poison ivy, bronchitis, flu, and the infamous 'I stepped on a snake' incident resulting in a new door mat - one not black and not so easily blendable with a black snake. When you've spent so much time dressing in black, hugging people you love, hugging people you don't remember or never knew, the other stuff just becomes adventures to laugh at. Sometimes the hugs are adventures, too. May I suggest that some people should keep their hands in reasonable places...

"I miss the sounds of Tennessee. I blink and while my eyes are closed, they both have gone away."  "House on the Lake" - Rosanne Cash

Some people are so kind it's almost overwhelming. Others are so clueless that your choices are to be amused or offended. I opted for amused, with only an occasional sprinkle of indignation. So I have even more stories then just the snake one, like the ex-girlfriend who showed up to my father-in-law's visitation flirting with hubby or the ex-boyfriend who tracked down my number, and called me. Which made hubby and I even-steven on the exes front - thank goodness - no need to inflate the man's ego. But really, people, funerals are NOT Eharmony...or a high school reunion. Perhaps you could pick another time to decide we were catches after all.

There's the tendency to question God, and his existence in all of this. That's not my way. I long ago gave up even attempting to understand. I don't get quantum physics, I can't comprehend how to engineer a part, and I for dang sure ain't 'bout to try to rebuild an engine so why should I know all the answers to God's universe. I get that. I'm also good with counting blessings. I had my Daddy for years longer then many people I know had their loved ones, and we were able to be at a good place when he passed from this life to life eternal. That's a gift not all receive though it was wrapped in the sideways paper of dementia.

"Think about it. There must be a higher love. Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above." "Higher Love" - Steve Winwood

Now, I have to say, Daddy was not some perfection of a man. Like all of us, you got the good with the bad. The man had a temper, I mean he could really lay it on. And if he thought he was right, well, there ain't no way that YOU were right. He went almost a year with out speaking to me once because he thought I had made the wrong job choice. But I have that stubborn streak, too. Eventually he was proud when I made my way in a large company just as I wanted to do. I think he enjoyed my spirit, as long as I never forgot to say ma'am or sir along the way. Sometimes two people are too much alike...but there are lessons in all of that, too. Lessons I try to remember raising our teenagers - one is a little more like me, the other one a little more like Hubby. Makes life more interesting as long as we remember the love, and forgiveness. 

"Children get older. I'm getting older, too." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac
"Mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don't know." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac

The night of Daddy's visitation one of my cousins told me a story I had never heard. Daddy came from a large family. Such a large family means a large range in ages of the cousins, and this cousin remembered Daddy as a young man back from the Korean War. He told me that our grandmother said Daddy would wake up with what they called "night terrors" for months after he returned. I am at an age now that I can look back at how it must have been for my Daddy, not too much older then my sons, and be so impressed by him. This was a man who answered his country, did his duty, came back home, worked full time at night on the railroad while he attended East Carolina College during the day, and spent countless hours helping charities. He never spoke of Korea until dementia came calling other then to tell us that "M.A.S.H." was NOT the way it was. Only then did we find out that he rode trains laying down gunfire to evacuate the dead, and wounded. He led a life, life did not lead him, and there's a lesson in that also. Too much is handed to so many of us. He expected nothing to be handed to him. He became a college graduate. He became Master of his Masonic lodge, president of his Shrine club chapter, and if you didn't know that he was an ECU Pirate then you obviously had never spoken to him for more then two minutes, and certainly never spoke to him during football season. Even as he lay on his deathbed, we played an ECU football game, and he knew it was his Pirates. I could even con him into leaving his nasal cannula in place by telling him that we would beat UNC if he left it alone.

Daddy passed away on May 28. For years, Momma said it would be terrible if someone died and there was an East Carolina University game because none of us would come. Daddy died when there were no active sports going on for ECU. I think he planned that. But still we flew our flags and magnets. His last surviving sister realized what we were doing, and insisted someone put them on her Cadillac, and one of my cousins flew to her car, got them out of her trunk and put them on. No one wanted to disobey her. The last one, the last one of nine siblings. How hard it is to survive.

"We're the Purple and Gold. We are the PIRATES OF ECU." EC Victory Fight Song

The night of Daddy's visitation we had one of those DVD's going. All the good funeral homes do them these days. You send pictures, they set them up to loop through, maybe add some music. Daddy loved music. We all love music. Somehow it felt right that we asked for three songs to be set to the pictures on the DVD. The three songs were, "Sugar Lips" by Al Hirt, "Whipped Cream" by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, and the ECU Fight Song. Nothing else would have felt as right. He loved life, and he saw it in so many ways - war, and peace. He deserved music that reflected his love of life.

Our sons have been a wonder through it all. They have watched their parents grieve, and shown compassion. I will never forget the touch of our sixteen year old's hand on my back as I started a strangled sob walking in the funeral home or the introverted seventeen year old walking up to me, and telling me that he would stay beside me until I told him he wasn't needed.

"No, this child will be gifted with love, with patience, and with faith." "Wonder" - Natalie Merchant

In the bottom of Daddy's jewelry box was an id bracelet. One that had my name on it and was made for me at the North Carolina State Fair when I was a little girl. Long after I stopped wearing it, and discarded it, he kept it. That's how love is - we keep it. We always keep it.

Somehow in grief, we each make our way. We find love. We find faith. We find compassion. Somehow we heal. Each scar makes a stronger place for faith, and love to take root.

"Take this love, and take it down." "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac
"So I will look for you between the grooves of songs we sing." "The World Unseen" - Rosanne Cash
"Are ye healed?" "Did Ye Get Healed" by Van Morrison

Each time one of us shares love, and compassion, each time one of us turns to God, we are healed. - me

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Beware the Ides of MAY

"It's such a perfect day." "The lawnmower stopped." "Look at the semi's - they're blocking the highway." "There is a meal in your refrigerator." "I watered my front porch." "Sure a car with less then 8,000 miles should need a new transmission." "It's not fair to the other students to accept it so late." 

Let me tell you about my May. Yes, I know it's only half way through - dang it. My tale involves a funeral, a snake, a chipmunk (may be more then one - who knows - they all look alike), a transmission, AP exams, the SAT, school, love, and friendship. Why, yes - that does pack a great deal into fifteen days.

Two weeks ago today, we buried my mother-in-law. This was totally unexpected, leaving unsaid words, and unshared hugs behind. My husband lost his first mother at four years old. He lost his second mother, the one he had since he was five years old, at 55. Are you ever prepared? As we drove to the cemetery from the funeral home, Coldplay came on. "It's such a perfect day." Our younger son pointed out the inappropriateness of the music. Of course, he was right. Then from our position as the second vehicle behind the hearse (we should have been fourth as the fourth child), we watched the time honored sign of respect of others, and their grief. The vehicles kept quietly moving to the side, pulling off where possible, just stopping in the lane where it wasn't possible. But the most touching moment didn't involve a car or truck. It involved a gentleman cutting his grass. Riding lawnmowers are cool. I'd like to have one. But they become elegant, when someone stops, climbs off, doffs his hat, and waits. I have no idea if he knew any of us. But we know his heart.

Since that day, we've traveled back home. Our older son tried to take the SAT. His first score was very good, and we suspect this one will not top it. It's hard when you're tired.

Both sons have hard course loads, and we're near the end of the semester. But our older son has organizational skills issues which is quite common with ADHD. It's hard for him to organize, and prioritize. It's showing now.  He's trying to juggle catching up work, with taking the SAT immediately after returning from his grandmother's funeral, and two AP exams, and normal school work. I wish I could say I've been a great help, but I haven't. But it was a little frustrating to hear from a teacher who imposed no deadline on a project he missed, tell me that it was two weeks late now, and she felt it was unfair to the other students to accept it this late. Yeah, life sucks. It didn't feel fair to lose so many people we love in the last year, and our dog, too. How about a break here? Yes, I know he needs to learn to do this stuff. Dang it, parenting is hard.

I've tried to answer the siren call of other commitments, and traveling to my parents, and then the car, ah the car. I won't say much other then - we need 1.5 days for lemon law status. It's been a peach, make that a lemon...almost. AND THAT'S ALL I'LL SAY....

Oh, the snake, and the chipmunk(s). I know you're dying to know about that (unless you're my Facebook friend - as most of you who might actually read something I wrote probably are - cause I have great, indulgent friends.) My friends already heard about the snake part. See I ran home from trying to help somebody. I had just enough time before meeting someone with a check for the Boy Scout troop (see the earlier statement about commitments...or being committed...sometimes it's hard to tell the difference in a Stephen King sorta way), when I stepped outside to water my flowers on the front porch. I STEPPED ON A SNAKE!! He did not BELONG on my front door mat. For the record, I now have a new door mat. It's very colorful. It is NOT black rubber allowing a black snake to blend. The word blend belongs to outfits, Pinterest, and margaritas - not to SNAKES. I threw the water in the air, thus watering the front porch. I screamed. No neighbors were around thus justifying the alarm system. No, I didn't kill him. I moved too fast to harm him, though it's amazing I didn't throw out my knee. Pretty sure I set a new land speed record.

Then I notice a hole in a board. On the roof. Between the garage, and the dining room. It doesn't look good. I think it's carpenter bees. I call two exterminators. One set says, "Don't bother us." OK - maybe it was a little different phrasing. Second set comes out, looks around, offers for $400, then $100 per month for several months they can "maybe" take care of it - but they aren't going to repair the board. That's when I call my trusted repair guy. Who takes one look, and says I think that might be squirrel damage. At which point his nephew leans out of his truck, and says. "Hey, I just saw a chipmunk come outta there." Ah...the snake wasn't laying in wait for me. He wanted Chip or Dale!! Take them, dude! Oh, and he only wants $150 total. Victory - take 'em where you can get 'em.

By now, I'm feeling whipped when Momma says, your Daddy is not doing well.

I noticed. He doesn't have an appetite. My father-in-law lost his appetite, too before he left us. We lost him last September. By now, I'm thinking that 2014 did NOT need to compete with the suckiness of 2013 where we lost my father-in-law, an uncle, an aunt, and our dog. But we've also lost one of my first cousins this year, and it's just not looking up.

So I sit here starting a pity party when the cat starts playing. He's having a good time. It's infectious. Then one of the sons comes up, and starts telling me about stuff. Stuff at school, stuff he's read, stuff he's interested in - who cares? He's a teenager, and he's talking to me. The other son is working hard, really working. He's gonna turn in that project. Whew. And I remember the dear, dear friends. The ones who put food in our refrigerator and a plant in our home. The ones who emailed, who sent cards, who called, who sent a text. The friends who gave us love. Dang it - pity party over. But if May would like to call off the dogs, I would appreciate it - greatly.