She did not go gently into that good night

I know it's been forever since I posted and I apologize in advance for the length of this.

I had my best dog ever put down yesterday.  It was time.  The only reason she was still alive is because I am selfish.  I may be selfish but it also turns out that I have impeccable manners.  Let me explain.

I took Friday off of work because my vet doesn't euthanize (and what a lovely word that is) on Saturdays.  Friday is also my daughter's day off work and she and CJ came from Amarillo to be with me and to say goodbye to the Duck.  Duck was (boy, that one word was hard to write) the first dog ever to growl at my daughter.  I think it's because she had been an only dog for a year and knew, in her heart of hearts, that I love Julie better.  We had Duck longer than we have had CJ.  It was very hard.  I knew it was going to be which is why I was so happy to have the weekend off.  I knew that I was going to fall apart.  I try to only do that in private.  I have decided that this, the falling apart in private, is a generational thing. 

The weekend shifts at work were covered - not exactly to my liking, but they were covered.

Friday, we took Duck to the vet who has loved her as long as we have and had her put down.  We then called a friend, went out to lunch, told Duck stories and made incredibly inappropriate death jokes.  It's a gift.  Julie and the little man (who, by the way, is almost as tall as his mama) hung around for a few hours until they decided that I would be all right.  They left to go home.  I went and fed the other dogs, went home, cooked dinner, ate, and watched a little TV.  I decided to call in an early night because I was exhausted.

A little after 9, I got a text message from the girl who was supposed to work at 11:30.  She was at the ER with her toddler who had ingested God knows what.  Absolutely no problem.  Babies are always, and I do mean always, more important than anything else.  I told her that I would cover the shift until she got there.

She didn't.

The local hospital said the baby was all right but it was decided to take her to a bigger hospital where they might be able to determine what she ingested.  Still no problem.  Babies are always, and I do mean always, more important than anything else.  The bigger hospital is an hour and a half away from our town.  I pulled up my big girl panties and worked the shift.  I like working nights and it was busy enough to keep my mind occupied.

I got off around 7:30, went and fed the dogs and went home, to sleep.

Fast forward to about 3 hours after I got to sleep.   The girl whose shift I had covered, who was supposed to cover a day off for another dispatcher and start work at 3:30 was still in the big town, waiting for big town doctor.  She didn't know when she would be here but she would hurry.

I was awake.  I was disgruntled.  I was petty, tired, and emotionally exhausted.  None of this showed in the text that I sent her, telling her not to worry and that the shift would be covered and to drive safe and to come in at her regular time.  There was no way I was going back to sleep after this, partly because I was afraid that if I did, I would not wake up in time to go to work for the 2nd 8 hour shift on my day off.  I got up, fixed lunch, ate, watched a little TV, got dressed, went and fed the dogs (3 hours early because I was going to work) and started to unravel.

In my childhood, I was known as "faucet-face" for my ability to turn the tears on and off like magic.  As I have grown older I have come to realize that:
a) most people don't care
b) it makes your eyes look horrible
c) it is a waste of wordless prayers

Anyway, I left Shorty's to go to work and I could feel myself starting to unravel.  It is a point of pride with me that no one ever knows how much I am hurting.  In public, and I consider work to be public, I am known for being cheerful, smiling, courteous, helpful and always in a good mood.  I wasn't sure I could pull it off today.  I knew that I could do my job efficiently because it is what I do.  It was the cheerful part that was bothering me.

I ended up with 15 minutes to spare and thought about going to the Subway to get a sandwich.  Directly across from the Subway is my church.  I pulled into the church lot, parked and, thanking God that the door was unlocked, went in.  I promptly proceeded to turn into that tangled skein of yarn.  All of my anger, my hurt, my frustration, my loneliness, and my need poured out.  Thank goodness that I was the only person in the church because it was not pretty.

I stayed for as long as I could, asking for God's help and the grace to get me through this day, remembering when I used to beg the same grace to get me through the 4 1/2 hour drive to see my baby when she was not with me.  I was not sure that it was going to work today as well as it used to.

I got to work, was buzzed in and there were two people in the lobby, waiting to visit family members.  I walked in, automatically smiled and said, "Good afternoon."  I should have known that He would hear me - and help me.

I still need one day, at least, to cry for my Duck.  I will have it and I will do it at home, which actually brings me back to the generational thing.

Miranda Lambert has a song currently out called "Mama's Broken Heart."  Here is the chorus:
     "Go and fix your make-up, girl, it's just a break up.
       Run and hide your crazy and start acting like a lady
      'Cause I raised you better-gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart,
       But this ain't my mama's broken heart."

I am gonna go hide my crazy, now that it's sprawled all over this page for y'all to see, 'cause this is Duck's Mama's broken heart.

PS:  Duck, the only dog to ever growl at Julie, was also the dog who stayed with her when her husband was deployed, to protect her and her children.  They loved each other extraordinarily.  When Duck couldn't (or wouldn't) go down the steps yesterday, it was Julie who picked her up, cradling her so gently that she didn't cry.  She did, however, delicately drop a dog poop, BARELY touching Julie's pants.  It made us laugh - and Juls?  Thanks for not pitching her.

What makes you crazy?

I love the movie Top Gun.  It is one of my favorite movies of all time and I watch it again and again.  There is one scene in the movie that makes me insane.  It makes me insane again and again.  No one else in my family, including the Navy vets, go bonkers when they see this scene.  Only me.

For those of you who don't know, the movie is about a Navy pilot (Maverick) and his time at the US Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Training School (Top Gun).  During the course of the training, his plane goes into a flat spin, he and his co-pilot (Goose) are forced to eject, and Goose dies.

There is a scene later in the movie where Maverick, in a very emotional tribute to his 'rear', throws Goose's dog tags into the ocean.

THIS SCENE MAKES ME NUTS!

Goose was married.  Goose left a widow and, more importantly, a son.  Goose's tags should have gone to his son.  No one will ever convince me that this is what should have happened.  No one will ever convince me that, in the real world, this would have happened.

My daughter's insane moment springs not from a movie, but from a video.

Carrie Underwood sings a song about a marriage that does not take place because the groom, a military man, dies just before the wedding.  In this video, the chaplain and the commanding officer show up at her house, in their shiny shoes, to notify her of the death and, at the funeral, she is presented with the flag.

THIS SCENE MAKES HER NUTS!

The men in the shiny shoes do not notify girlfriends, fiancees, shack-ups, live-ins, cohabitants or any other variety of partner.  They notify FAMILY.  It is irrelevant to the men in the shiny shoes who the deceased wanted notified.  They notify family.

So, what is the scene in which movie, video, book, etc. that makes you crazy?   Not crazy enough to not watch whatever it is - just crazy every time you watch it.

A Kinder, if not Gentler, Time

In his acceptance speech August 18, 1988 former President George H. W. Bush commented that he wanted a "kinder, gentler nation."  This made him the butt of many jokes but it also served as a reminder of days gone past.

I was reminded of this today.  Yesterday, in Amarillo, a 27 year old man lost his life in a head on collision that was not his fault, leaving behind a grieving widow.

This morning, the Amarillo Globe News, only named here in order that you may, if you choose, boycott them, chose as their front page, above the fold picture, photos from the crash scene.

38 years ago, my 26 year old husband was killed in a head on collision that was not his fault, leaving behind a grieving widow and an injured infant.

So, here's the part where I say I know exactly how she feels right?  The grieving young widow?

No, I don't.  I was never subjected to front page pictures of the wreck.  There were no pictures in the paper.  My family, God love them, made sure that I never saw pictures of our vehicle after the crash at all or the vehicle itself at the wrecking yard.  This kindness, this comfort, this empathy is one of the reasons we never went to court.  My family, God love them, thought protecting me from those pictures, was more important than money.

I am not denying the newspaper's right to publish the pictures.  The accident, and the death of this young man, are newsworthy and I know that a picture is worth a thousand words.  The flip side of that, of course, is that a picture, once seen, cannot be unseen.

I live in a part of the country that prides itself on it's friendliness, it's hospitality, it's downright niceness.  Too bad they forgot empathy and kindness today.

CCC

I grew up in northern California.  Within driving distance of my house were at least 2 State Parks.  Actually, one of them, Samuel P. Taylor State Park, was within biking distance if you and your brother were in the mood and driving distance if you were ditching church.   Mt. Tamalpais State Park was even closer, as the crow flies, but much harder to bike to, as it was a horrid climb on very narrow roads.  This was before the advent of bike paths.

There were redwoods in these parks and camping facilities and outside amphitheaters and hiking trails with rails and graded steps out of stone.  I loved these parks.  When I was a teenager, I was convinced that God was in those parks.  Now I know He is within me, but I was not so sure back then and I felt closer to Him there.

It never occurred to me wonder about the infrastructure of the parks.  I learned later that almost all of the construction done in those parks; the ranger stations, the benches in the amphitheaters, the amphitheaters themselves,  the outdoor showers, the concession stands, the trails, the bridges, the trail markers, was done by the Civilian Conservation Corps.

One of our area museums, where Julie and I went with the boy to escape the crowds of Christmas consumerism, currently has an exhibit about the CCC.  This exhibit includes lots of memorabilia, including schedules, booklets, clothes and such and a life size model of one of the two man wood floor tents that the guys lived in.  On the wall were numerous pictures of local CCC projects.  I was astounded to learn that there once was a Hereford State Park.  Our golf course pro shop used to be the boat house (we have no lake now) and the local VFW was the concession stand at the park.  As soon as I read this, I recognized the architecture and use of local building materials.

 I love this Country, for taking a desperate time and situation, and making something so life-affirming and lasting.  Unfortunately, a lot of these buildings and bridges are falling into disrepair.  Maybe it's time for Congress to take another look at a program that actually worked.

PPHM 12-20-2012

These pictures were taken at the Panhandle Plains Historical Museum in Canyon, TX.  I will be blogging more about other exhibits but this is for Juls, so she'll have her Christmas picture of her with her little man.  Merry Christmas, baby!

 My two favorite people.

 The exhibit he loves best.

This shall be the "before" picture!

Christmas Eve 2012

We are celebrating the family portion of Christmas tomorrow, on the 22nd, so CJ, following family tradition got to open one gift on Christmas eve.  I got to pick the gift.

 Opening the gift.

 You got me dishes?

 You got me SOCKS?

 There must be something IN the socks.  Grandma wouldn't buy me SOCKS!

Socks....Grandma bought me socks.  Thank you, Grandma.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

A friend of mine posted a picture like this on facebook and asked if any of us were old enough to remember it.  Silly question.

When I was a very little girl, we always had a real Christmas tree, usually a Douglas fir, because Mom liked the spaces between the boughs.  She may have liked the spaces but she HATED the needles.

When I was around 8 or 9, my parents bought an artificial tree, white flocked, with a color wheel which rotated and bathed the tree in red, blue, green, or orange light.  On this wonderful tree, Mom hung all maroon bulbs.  I don't know why.

Then all of us kids grew up and moved out.  The years that we all came home for Christmas, Mom would break out the tree and we all made fun of it.  Not very charitable and not very Christmassy but very, very easy to do.  It was a terrible tree.

In 1975, Mom bought one of these trees.  Vern's wife made it in pottery class.  Actually, I'm pretty sure she bought the greenware and glazed it but she made it nonetheless.  Vern was a guy who worked with my Dad and the first car I drove after Steve died was a 1960 Cadillac that Mom and Dad bought from Vern for me.

Anyway, this tree lived on top of Mom's TV from the day after Thanksgiving until New Year's Day and, no matter how much we harangued her, this was the tree ever after.

I think I have sort of compromised.  I have an artificial tree, but is is a Scottish pine because I like the fullness.  It is about 3 feet tall and it sits on a console table that I have because that way the dogs wouldn't knock it over.  Looking at it tonight, I think that I may have combined all the trees of my childhood into one. Now all I need is a color wheel!