37 Years Ago

It seems hard to believe that 37 years have rushed by. Today, 37 years ago, I gave birth to my son and surprisingly, given some of the risky experiences he's had, he's still alive and presumably surviving. At least, I think he is.

Last year, just before Christmas, I turned up at my home in Florida to begin discussions with him about selling it and getting it ready for the market. I intended to share some of the benefits with him because I thought he was taking care of the property.

What I found was a dump. I had been conned, tricked, manipulated and convinced by my son that he was truly managing it by mowing, trimming, taking care of issues - all the things one has to do to keep a home livable. But he was not doing anything.

And he was undoubtably using drugs and alcohol again, totally against our agreement, as I saw garbage strewn from the back door to the street with bottles and other trash.

The grief and anger I felt at that moment was tremendous along with the huge disappointment of discovering what a liar my son had become. It affected my relationship with my boyfriend at the time, who has had years of dealing with ex-cons, and who tried to help me understand what had been going on. But my rage got directed at him and we split up for awhile.

In time, now over six months since that day, I have come to accept that my son is troubled, and that I can no longer fix him. He is an adult who is entitled to make his own choices, which does not include getting help. Many times in the past ten years I have encouraged, cajoled, pleaded, even threatened all to no avail.

But more than that singular event, which was a turning point in my life, there are all the wonderings and wanderings that I have done since then.

As parents (or aunts, uncles or cousins) we see a child growing and have no idea what life choices will be presented or how the path will unfold. And we don't see how we may play a part in that drama  and sometimes because the life is foreshortened the stage is quickly cleared.

It has not been pleasing to see how many peers of my son have not made it to 37. Some have died from being enlisted to fight a war, some fighting wars on home turf, some from despair, some called accidents, and a few were the consequences of a high school celebration gone horribly wrong.

Ten years ago in Everett, WA during SeaFair when things
appeared to be going along better.

So to celebrate this achievement of one child surviving 37 years, I am making a donation to a local fund that provides hope for young men and women to better themselves and to realize their full potential. And I hope there is someone somewhere who is donating to a similar charity that will benefit my son, wherever he may be. And if he should read this, I want him to know that nothing stops a mother's love and prayers for his protection.

Love never dies, but other things...

have endings... just as summer winds down and the earth prepares for hibernation... leaves fall, things change, but it is just a season.

A beautiful fall day off Deer Park Road, Port Angeles, WA

Although the trip to Victoria gets ranked as a high point in my relationship with Beloved, after ten months of being together and with his plans to move to Boise, Idaho, in a few months, it was clear our paths were diverging.

There was much about the journey together that has been a gift to me and hopefully for him, too. I cannot be sad about something that started so joyfully and had one final blast of fun as an ending.

I am intending my next adventure is a connection on more levels that just gets better and better... align with me?

I dreamed of you...

And then we met.

Sundays will always be an extra special day for me because you came into my life on that day, my beloved.

I really did dream of you.

After years of hoping I might meet someone who liked a lot of things I like, someone who was real, a man who was really a man but not overly full of himself, a kind and gentle soul who walks on the land with an appreciation for it, a traveler, a dancer, someone who has a basically optimistic attitude and a sense of humor (he's got me laughing right now...) and healthy enough to last a few years, I've found him.

About six months ago I went to sleep asking the Universe to please let me see the guy I might meet, if indeed I would ever do so. That very night I dreamt of a tall, smiling fellow with white hair and a mustache. He smiled at me and drifted back into the ether.

Snow on the Olympic range is not lasting due to warm temps.

I was on Plenty of Fish, one of the myriad online dating sites, and had met a couple of guys who were companionable, but not "The One," and none that would pass muster with my older daughter. I was just about to give up even looking when one profile looked appealing.

His interests dovetailed with mine and he is a motorcycle rider, something I had to give up when I left Florida. I clicked on "Want to Meet" and got an immediate response. His picture was close to what I thought I was looking for, but I figured it was just going to be another meet-and-greet, possible friend for going to movies or dances, nothing remarkable.

But when he got out of his car and started walking toward me, I knew... I absolutely KNEW he was the one I dreamed of.

We ordered lattes and talked like old friends for several hours. And we are still talking and laughing, dancing, planning travel adventures and deliciously enjoying our new friendship with love that keeps on growing.

He won't be able to retire from his full-time job for a couple of years, but it will give us time to make a plan for adventures that allow us to continue to be involved in family (his and mine) and since we both love where we live now, on the Olympic Peninsula, it's not likely we'll be moving.

So in this season of giving, I give you, my dear readers, the gift of hope that no matter how old you are, in whatever circumstances you might find yourself, love is still waiting for you to discover and receive it... Happy Solstice to you all!

Money Won't Buy Love

This is not my story, though I have made some expensive choices in past relationships.

Perhaps because of those mistakes, it has made me more aware of the kinds of people who prey on others who are needy.

The Olympics are lovely in the dusky light.

Recently, here in Washington State, there have been a number of stories of women (though certainly there must be men who have been taken advantage of) who, through on-line dating sites, have been convinced they have met the Love of their Life. The other aspect of this vulnerability is that most of these people grew up, and were dating, at a time when fraud and scams were incredibly rare. They just can't quite believe they are a really excellent target.

Recently Dr. Phil did an hour-long program with a woman who had been persuaded to send over $250,000 dollars to a man she never met, someone she talked to every day (sometimes many times a day) and who now was at the risk of losing her home and becoming alienated from her family because she refused to believe this man was scamming her. Even with all the evidence Dr.Phil presented, she continued to talk to him and was prepared to send him more money.

There is, for these people, an addiction being fed by hope and dreams.

You can find a Malaysian comment thread with stories of women who have had the courage to tell their stories.

This is the story outline:

A man, recently widowed (or after several years of being alone after a divorce), has joined Love.com (not a real match site) in order to meet someone he can marry. His target 'audience' is another lonely heart, usually older, and with information that indicates they are financially secure - and eager. Older women are not as savvy about what they put in their profiles and they give away a lot of personal stuff without realizing it. 

Going on a cruise is one way to meet a lot of people.

It is curious that the pattern is about the same. After about three weeks of daily phone contact, the guy promotes a meeting but then suddenly, the night before or several days before, he has to go abroad (Malaysia, England, South Africa, someplace far away from the U.S.) for some kind of business. He has some flimsy excuse why he cannot use Skype for face-to-face conversations, so no one really knows who he is.

He uses a throw-away phone to call, so the number and his location cannot easily be revealed. 

The photos used to depict this character are usually stolen and have no relationship to the real individual. Oh, and he is often 'connected' to an adult child who lives apart, but who can 'vouch' for him. This other character may even communicate with the target.

I have had two friends caught up in these scams. One listened to me and got out early with no more damage than that to her ego and is now happily involved with a man who is truly who he says he is and who cares very much for her.

The other one refused to listen to my warnings. And when I became seriously worried and spoke to our mutual pastor about what I feared was going on, she cut me off, saying some cruel things. It is my belief that she took out a loan on her home, eventually selling it to pay off the loan, and as she was leaving the area, she announced that she was sending him another $3500 for a one-way ticket back from Malaysia so he could drive her belongings to her destination. The last I heard she had left without picking him up at the airport.

We all want to have a connection with someone, to not feel as if there are no witnesses to our lives. But desperation, especially for older divorced or widowed individuals, seems to drive common sense out the window.

The idea behind dating sites is a good one, bringing people together with like interests. But no amount of money for membership fees will guarantee that the people on the site are really who they say they are. If you know of someone who is considering going on a dating site, caution them about these scams. And the old adage "If it seems too good to be true, it probably is..." is one of the few things that still has value.

February is National Heart Month in the USA

Already the valentines are flooding the card sections, Colombia is hopeful that the annual demand for flowers for lovers will help balance out the export column for the country, and I am sighing my annual sigh of angst for the flowers or cards that don't grace my door. In Colombia, it is in mid-September that "Special Friends or Lover's Day" occurs, so February there is simply a month to recuperate from Christmas and New Year's celebrations and to embrace the quiet because there are no long weekends with tourists.

But in the U.S. it is everywhere - movies, TV, internet, magazines, newspapers - and in schools across the land there are going to be little boys or little girls who, for one reason or another, don't get what they are expecting or hoping for on Feb. 14th and it will, I promise you, leave a lasting memory of what disappointment is all about.

I am personally against doing the card-exchange in schools. It is a chance for the bullies to work their particular kind of wretched behavior on those they have already targeted for abuse, and it is that kind of torture that young children do not need to experience.

Who really benefits from these so-called expressions of love? And why do the schools perpetuate something that does not really teach the students what love is?

John Gardner, Stanford '33 and MA '36 wrote an essay for the Stanford Alumni Magazine in March 1994 entitled 'The Road to Self-Renewal' and if you want to read it in its entirety, here is the link. He wrote, "We build our own prisons and serve as our own jail keepers, but I've concluded that our parents and the society at large have a hand in building our prisons."

His premise is that the roles that get created for us by parents, teachers, our peers and yes, even the bullies, can stick with us for a lifetime until or unless we as individuals take on the task of self-renewal, dealing with the ghosts of the past; failures, traumas, grievances and resentments. These injuries, imagined or real, take their toll both in limitations and frustrations sometimes causing illnesses that further limit us.

Gardner adds, "Life is an endless unfolding and, if we wish it to be, an endless process of self-discovery."

Hearts by Danilo Rizzuti

In this month of February, the U.S.'s national focus on the heart, I hope my readers far and wide will take the time to think about what love really is, and how we are all responsible for our own lives. In the Episcopalian Order of Service, there is a prayer that serves as a reminder to me that I am not perfect, never will be, but I seek His forgiveness and try again to forgive those who have caused me pain.

"Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against You in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone." But most especially I have 'sinned' against myself in not letting go of those past ghosts allowing me to be more loving, more giving, more of who I am supposed to be. Forgiveness is not really for the other(s), but for me, so that I am free.

The message of Jesus Christ was "Forgive them for they know not what they do." For me He is the icon of true and untrammeled Love and without pushing my beliefs on those who have their own, many of the religious sects have in their concepts an image or icon that represents the energy of Love.

I hope these words fall on fertile ground for you to renew your contract of living and loving and find your way to forgiveness of Self and that you can celebrate this month of the heart with great joy and love!

The Heartbreak of Myeloma

Before I knew about Multiple Myeloma, I lived in a gingerbread land of illusion. I did not know about this disease that comes into families like a snake sliding into a picnic, creating fear and havoc.

Today I have friends and a relative living with this condition. I try to support them all with my words, my pictures and comments of caring and support when appropriate. This blog was originally started as a way to provide respite and a window on the world to one who was hospitalized with an STC. And while I continue it, it still partially serves that objective.

It astounds me that there are so many younger people who are being diagnosed with it. And it is a point of curiosity that I do not hear about it in South America much. I wonder why that is? I also support various fund-raising efforts to provide resources for research. I look for hopeful posts on possible solutions or medications for either moderation or cure(s). But today it doesn't feel like I am doing enough as I hear about a friend's pain and I cannot ease it, cannot erase it, cannot solve it.

I hate this disease.

A short tale of true love

Love is... going for walks at the lake to feed the ducks every day, even
though your husband can't find the words to describe them.

Although it was nine months ago that a very dear friend was facing the certainty of her husband having to be placed into custodial care, the first awareness of Frontotemporal Dementia came when her beloved began to have difficulty remembering the names of simple things, and that actually seems to have started seven or eight years ago.

But apparently about two weeks ago, he took off in the car and withdrew a large sum of money from the bank. This kind of behavior was the indicator that he could no longer be trusted to stay in the home unsupervised. On the 4th of February, she told me, they drove him to a facility where he can be cared for 24/7. "I told him we were going to see some friends," she said, remarking that she was permitted a therapeutic lie in order to keep him calm. And then she went home alone.

I called her recently without knowing all this had happened and asked if she was up for a visitor. She exclaimed, "You are a blessing, coming to visit me now - how did you know?" I didn't. I live my life with a different sense of guidance these days and impulsively end up in places where I guess I am supposed to be.

So it was that I ended up in Salt Lake City this week, visiting this lovely woman who has been a good friend for many years. "I am a widow without a funeral, a single woman who cannot date, a wife without her husband," she said. We agreed that this long goodbye she has been enduring for all these years still has time on the clock. She doesn't know how long it will tick. "I have these wonderful memories of us together - almost 20 years of marriage - and the day before we were separated, I spent time with him, and he surprised me by telling me that he remembered the first day we met. He hasn't been able to speak of things like this for years! And he told me he loved me."

When we were together last November, I commented that if anyone wanted to know what love was, all they  had to was watch her with him. Her patience, her kindness, her tolerance for the child-like man he has become was remarkable. Now, only two days before the Day of Lovers, February 14, she is unable to be with him because the facility wants him to adjust to his 'new home,' since for the first week he was there he was constantly trying to escape.

Dedicated to my friend and her husband, who was also my
friend and business associate. Can you see the heart in
the clouds, making this evening even more special?

In one of our conversations I said to her, "You will have a chance to talk to him, and I feel sure you will be able to see him soon. He will adapt and you will be able to go and be with him as his loving wife, not a caretaker who has been stressed to the breaking point."

Just a short time ago I received a phone call and she announced, like a teenager, "We talked briefly on the phone and he said he loved me again!" It is heartening to tell this story of love and hope for Valentine's Day and I hope it brings you joy to read about it.

What I Saw Today

Sometimes I go looking for things to cheer up my MM readers and other friends, sometimes I simply stumble onto a special sight, and occasionally I rant and rave about an issue near and dear to my heart. No more rants for now.... here's something I thought was special.

As I walked out of my apartment this afternoon, the light caught my eye and when I focused in on it, this is what I saw... an elegant weaving by Mistress Spider in a filament so fine that if the light wasn't shining on it, I would have probably walked right into it - echhhhh.

Grabbed the camera and caught it.

It's Mukilteo Farmer's Market day so I wended my way to the landing. Luck was with me and I got a parking place pretty quickly. And fortunately I wore a fleece jacket because the wind had picked up and was whipping up the waves as well. In fact, the incoming ferry had to stand off because they probably had a following wind and made it to the landing more quickly than expected. Can you see how the dock sections are pitching up and down? More than a few people were walking out on them to have a bit of a ride - but for some it was wetter and a little bit more than they expected and they wobbled their way back onto land rather quickly.

But then I noticed something else rather special, only I wasn't sure at the time why it might be. If you look closely you can see an older man filling up a plastic bag with sea water. I put that shot here for you.

Then I watched him try to carry it and it spilled out. He went back and refilled it. The next time he was successful and he began walking up the ramp with it.

My curiousity was too much... and I surrepticiously watched and waited to see where he was going with it. It appeared that his wife was waiting to clean the sand from her feet before putting her shoes back on, and he went to her and held the bag so she could put her feet in and clean them up. I think they may have had their son with them as well as he seemed to be helping, too. This touching effort was really a private thing, but like the Watcher on the Wall, I recorded it, to show that this seemingly small act can be replicated - for the good of all concerned. I know there are lots of MM caregivers who are prime examples of this selfless giving... hats off to all of you for all the symbolic bags of water you carry.

What if....

What if you were faced with a life-threatening illness and you had to make a decision (in a few short hours, possibly days) which would determine how long the remainder of your life might be? 

Would you know where to do go to get information?

Would you know if that information was reliable?

Would you know what the information-provider's agenda was?

This is what newly-diagnosed, critically ill individuals face and some face it alone, because they don't have partners in their life or because they don't have families or because the relatives are too far away or for some other reason.

I'm not offering up any kind of pity-party for anyone, but I am suggesting that as this fragile green earth spins faster and faster, we seem to have less and less time for our neighbors, acquaintances and even family.

Before I headed out West, I received a phone call from a neighbor to tell me that he and his wife were temporarily moving into "assisted living " quarters because of her cancer treatments and her care requirements which were beyond his capabilities. They have family living nearby and they have friends and neighbors like me. But clearly he wanted me to know that when I didn't see them around that they were open to having visitors in the new place. I was deeply touched and will certainly go and see them when I return.

And it brought home to me, in yet another way, that we are interconnected. That each smile, each touch, each effort made on behalf of another does have value.

So if you are reading this and you know someone who is facing a difficult time, perhaps you will be led to offer up some of your time to do something to ease their challenge. Not because someday you might be facing your own mountain, but because today is all we have... and what we give is our presentness... our being... and letting another living man or woman or child know that they have been seen or heard.

Not only flighty subjects....

   Today I had to get my car serviced and I was sitting working on a slide show about Alligator Lake (previously mentioned) and this fellow came in to sit and wait. He was so uncomfortable that he kept getting up and looking at things; incredibly restless. I said, "Would you like to see the slide show I just finished putting together?"

    He was stunned and came over to sit next to me and watch my little presentation. Afterwards he said, "Can you send something like that to someone?" I said, "Sure." He gave me his e-mail address. He actually didn't see it as the final product (with the music added) so I am curious what his reaction will be.

   Later I realized that in this busy world of ours, we really don't take enough time to "BE" with our fellow travelers face-to-face. We send messages, call, text, blog, but do we touch enough?