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This Phoenix Speaks

Seven years in the making, my first published book, This Phoenix Speaks , is now a reality. The tireless and tiring work invested to ma...

Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts

this view




Remnants of a life well lived

Chopped chunks of trees

Nails, glue, and wood shavings

Turned into art

Now a memory already

Fading into the shadows

Of the blazingly bright future 

But with pure love planted, 

There in the wheelbarrow 

Of life, transported, there are memories

Lashed to the fence post 

Showing us the way

Showing us how to follow 

His footsteps 

In our own way 

Making our way 

With a universe of hope

Guiding our eyes up 

To the light, to the clouds,

To the mountains 

That build us up while

Tearing us down 

Like this grief intertwined 

With so much joy

This view pushes us to be
More and stand in wonder 
At the love God planted 
All around, surrounding
And saturating, this 
Brilliant life 



my almond joy


Tiny blossoms to look forward to each year
Soft and fresh and delicate
Each spring when they finally unfold
Displaying their hope for the future

When their time arrives to shine
I will not be there to see this time
But in my heart, every spring, I will recall
The joy each blossom gave simply by existing








joy quest: memory lane


Harris Lane. Now that has some memories on it. There are actually many lanes and streets and boulevards all over East Las Vegas that hold memories for me. The best memories. The worst memories. And memories that have made me who I am.

I will choose joy today as I say goodbye to my family home. My parents and siblings, aunts and uncles, many cousins and friends, all have been part of that house being made into a home. It takes people making joy-filled memories to have a real home, and we had that. Most of all though, my parents' love for each other and us was why that place was home to me. Despite all the troubles and trials, I can look on that place with joy and love because of them.

Bledsoe Lane and Harris Lane and all the other roads in my old neighborhood will still be there, but they won't ever be the same without us there anymore. I know that for sure. And that gives me a tempered joy—joy in knowing how much my parents made a difference in establishing a legacy of love that is only held down by missing their presence for so long.

My joy is full today. My joy has tears washing away any pain, leaving a shining, golden memory lane to walk upon whenever I may need it.


Keeles in Concert



As I read comments on someone else's slice of life, I was reminded of this song called "Angel Lullaby" and immediately thought of my extraordinarily talented aunt and uncle singing the duet when I was a child. 

I grew up heading to Santa Maria, California near the central coast's Pismo Beach often and a time or two to Springdale, Utah just outside Zion National Park for these family talent shows my mom and her eleven siblings and all their children would put on in my grandparents' community. Everyone would sing or dance or do a comedy act and such. I still remember my Uncle Curt doing his funny stuff. I'll just say "Edelweiss" has always been more special to me when remembering his primitive beatboxing methods coupled with my Uncle Sam's innocent singing and was over the top hilarity. 

When I was around twelve or thirteen years old, I sang "On the Good Ship Lollipop" with two of my closest cousins with makeshift giant lollipop props made from cardboard we cut out into large circles and wooden sticks my grandpa had made. We had matching dresses and ginormous paper bows—quite the musical number.

Rehearsals seemed to be all day. You'd see aunts and uncles singing and playing the piano and children playing and singing and practicing on the stage—and others running around the church where we'd perform later that night.

I remember my mom. Singing. Playing piano. Being a musician. She was so wonderful. She'd laugh so much, and not a foolhardy load of laughter that is empty, but one that signified her joy.

And all of this has made me miss my aunts, uncles, and cousins, my grandparents and my parents, and all the delightful opportunities that were provided to us in such a unique and talented family. My grandparents really set a good example of how a family should work together.

My Aunt Becky and Uncle Sam sang this song in such a way that has impressed upon my soul. I wish there were a YouTube video of them to share, alas this recording will have to do. I hope it brings a smile to your face and some peace to your heart as it does mine.




snowman boosts morale!


I built a snowman in front of my house yesterday. It doesn't sound like such a big deal, but I have been sick for a long while, and I really didn't feel like going outside. You know what got me out there? Fahrenheit 451. 

That sounds nuts since snow and books have hardly anything in common except for snow making you want to stay INDOORS to read books. Am I right? So anyway. 

I had been thinking about Mildred and her walls and how similar that book is to today's society, so when my little guy asked if I would go outside with him to play in the snow, I felt almost compelled to go outside despite my tiredness. Human interaction with my family whom I love. Building snow bricks and snowmen and memories that are real. 

My son was going to build an igloo using my bread pans for snow brick makers. I think he made about ten bricks. My younger daughter helped some but had homework to finish. And then my oldest with autism helped pat extra snow onto the snowman to make sure he was well rounded. We had a great time and went to get a treat for family night with all of us, and ended the night with a lesson about building unity.

Getting well is the top priority, but that bit of play and time out just for us gave us all the boost that we needed. 




riding a bike



My little boy still struggles with riding a bike. I didn't realize it because I haven't prioritized buying him a bike for at my house since he has one at his dad's, and I don't like to steal thunder. I just assumed he knew how. But tonight, some friends gave him a bike, so he wanted to practice, and I didn't realize I was going to feel so brokenhearted.

I didn't realize my sweet little guy didn't have the confidence to just get on the bike and ride it home. I didn't realize he needed me out there to watch him to feel safe and confident while he practiced wobbling along the sidewalk. He was so cute as he voiced feeling grateful that he has grass to land on just in case. I'm glad I was able to see him overcome his hesitant outlook and be able to make the turns "without stopping at all."

It got me thinking about my experience when learning to ride a bike. It was so different. I don't recall where I got the bike from, but I do remember it was a yellow banana seat bike with those crazy handle bars that remind me of Harleys. I also remember getting on that bike and not stopping until I could ride that bike. I got skinned up knees because I was riding my new bike in a dress of all things. Not so good for when you fall on blacktop. But quite fancy, I guess. So anyway. I stayed out there trying and trying and trying until I could do it. It happened at dusk when there was barely enough light to snap a photo, but I have one. My mom had got out the camera and caught me smiling and riding my bike. She caught my determination on film. It has been a long time since I saw that photo, so I'm not sure where that photo is, but when I do find it, I'll add it here.

My bicycle story is so different from my son's. But my entire childhood is very different as well. I don't want to get into the fine details, but I'll just say that I'm thankful for my dad who loved my mom and worked hard and did what it took to stay. I'll add that I'm thankful for my mom who loved my dad and worked hard and did what it took to stay. They each had their faults and opinions that could drive someone away, but they loved each other enough to do what it takes to make things work. So much sacrifice and loving care. So much meeting in the middle and going to the other side at times. So much sharing the load. Even with all the abuse I suffered, I had confidence because of them. I just know it.


shamrocks are green



St. Patrick's Day has never been a big holiday for me growing up or even since I've been a parent; however, my mind won't let me forget about always needing to wear green or I'd get mega pinched at school. 

One St. Patrick's Day (I think it was fourth or fifth grade), I was all ready to walk to school, and my mom realized I didn't have on any green, so she pinned a cute shamrock and leprechaun pin onto my shirt to keep me safe. But the crazy thing is that I still got pinched a couple of times. I recall yelling and pulling that pin toward someone's face (still attached to my shirt) showing them how perfectly green it was, and reasoning that I deserved to pinch them double hard for that!  

Nowadays, pinching people on St. Patrick's Day for not wearing green is like totally banned from many schools, but I'm glad I had the experience. A little fear goes a long way in making a good little story. 


penny candies



Big League Chew. Penny candies. Nickel gum. Orange Tic Tacs. Slurpees. These are the things I'd save up my money for when I was a kid. 

My brothers and I would scrounge up change and make the trek down Owens to Nellis to the corner 7-Eleven, crossing the superhighway of a road that Nellis always has been (or so it seemed to my little girl self). We would load up on treats just enough to give us the strength to make it back home all sugared up ready for another row in the mud or a dirt clod fight. 

There's something that makes me smile about all that. It was so simple, and yet it means so much now that the time has passed. 




stretch the time



I just got back from an amazing Thanksgiving vacation with my children and one of my brothers. But like all well deserved vacations, they end too quickly while it's also good to be home.

The time flew by at lightning speed as we visited friends and family. Some stops were filled with pure love and welcoming arms, yet others felt like an imposition. It all seemed to slip through my fingers in equal measure though. I savored every moment moving around plans to stretch the time together, and even still the clock was always in charge of when to say goodbye.

I think that's the hardest part too—having to say goodbye. It's a necessity that hurts. The only way to fix that one is to move, but then there are others to say goodbye to, so I guess time will help things in its way. Somehow it all will sort out. Someday there won't be so many goodbyes.

When all is said and done, I am happy to be home but not happy to be missing part of my heart again.


road trip reverie



Road trips are a cheap thrill and one of my favorite types of adventure. I've gone on many road trips with my brothers since we've all been alive, and while I used to feel quite tortured being the only girl on these trips, they are some of my fondest memories. Driving down the highway watching for new things, beautiful things, fun things adds to the conversations in interesting ways, which keeps me happy. 

It seems that I find ways to go on a road trip at least once a year, even if it's just nearby. A little hotel stay or a visit with family and friends does the trick for me. I feel the joy in my heart surface, and I am rejuvenated. All the fondness I have for my brothers and parents comes to my mind. All the happy times with friends flood my heart. I feel every memory come alive, and the addition of new layers of happy times adds to the store of joy that I draw upon when in between such delightful memories and making more.

Driving places with my children and my brothers and parents has been something I cherish, along with all the trips I've taken with friends. It all means so much to me. I am thankful to have had the opportunity to have these great memories to hold onto.

Road trips are more than a trip; they are part of the fabric of every good relationship I enjoy. 







the versatile phone


My first memory of a telephone was when I was around 4 years old. I was at my great grandmother's house and refusing to eat her steamed broccoli and cauliflower. I wanted to go home because my great grandma wouldn't give me anything different to eat either. She told me that if I wanted to go home instead of eat my dinner and stay the night with her, then I would have to call home myself. I didn't even know my numbers yet. She wrote my phone number 4 5 3 1 4 7 4 largely onto a small piece of paper, set it and the black rotary dial phone from probably the 1930s onto the organ stool, and showed me how to work the phone. She showed me how each number matched up with one on the dial, and how to pull it around to the little stopper, so it would be able to make the call. I recall sitting in the living room next to the organ working so hard on learning how to match each of the different number symbols on the page to the ones on the phone and figuring out how to turn the dial around all the way. It got dark out. She wouldn't even turn on the light in living room. So by light of the dining room I figured out how to make my first phone call. And I love her beyond words for that lesson in determination—hers and mine.

Throughout my life thus far, phones have changed a great deal. I used that antique rotary phone a few times. Then I remember talking on a phone in my kitchen with a 10-foot cord with my little friends to see who would be spending the night where and making plans to beat the band. Then the mighty cordless phone came into my life. I couldn't get too far away from the receiver, but that blasted cord was no longer an issue to get tangled in. When I was an older teenager, the magical teen lines became a thing, and my parents got me one so that they could actually receive phone calls of their own. And let's not forget the all powerful pay phone. The movie theater adventure would never have been as good without the freedom to call for a ride home after all of the fun was over—not just the movie. I graduated high school, and I wanted my own phone line, to pay for something myself along with my schooling costs. So I got my own phone line put in, and having my own telephone number was something else. I felt independent. Along with that phone line, I purchased a forest green little phone. I still have it actually. I can't seem to part with it. Many adventures were planned on that phone. Breakups were hashed out, makeups too. Tears, laughter, and everything in between has that little green phone been the bearer of.

Then I got my first cell phone necessitated by my child's seizure disorder. I was fine with having a pager—until I was screaming for help on the corner of a busy intersection while my baby was turning blue and vomit was spewing from her nose. A phone saved us both that day. From the next day onward, I have always had a cell phone. It is an essential item for me even more so than most people believe for themselves. My cell phone gives me a sense of empowerment to save.

Cell phones do so much now. They deliver all sorts of information: news, facts, lies, love, hate, almost anything you can think of. You can purchase something from a store somewhere else in the world and have it delivered to your home with a few swipes and taps to a phone. Business can be done more efficiently by way of these magical contraptions. Setting and breaking appointments, making decisions, and so much more are all at your fingertips.

Phones cause and solve problems. Bridges are built and burnt using phones. Love and care is conveyed throughout the world at any moment in time through the phone, but so is unkindness, misery, and grief. Insensitivity, compassion, disdain, and admiration are part of the nearly infinite gamut of emotions that phones are able to convey. Sometimes, phones by their lack of use convey emotions too. When a message is left and never returned, that non-response says something. The receiver does not understand entirely what the unused phone is saying, so painful misunderstanding can be one side effect. Affection, kindness, and concern are also side effects of a phone best used. Care is communicated by way of voice and text messages, and photographs are one of my favorite means of sharing my world with people who can't be near as we make our way through our days. It is such a treat to reach out across the wires and miles to loved ones and even strangers to share morsels of my day! I truly delight in it.

Without phones, I'm sure life would be vastly different for all of us. I know it would be for me. So much love and happiness arrives throughout my daily life by way of the phone, and I am thankful for the entire experience.




marvelous

Creating happy memories makes life worth living because things can't always be good or we wouldn't  know when life is reaching those high points. There are good and bad times for everyone.

When I was a freshman in high school, my mother was working three jobs as a newly graduated RN to make ends meet for our family. She always seemed to be gone or sleeping—probably because she was. So anyway, I was going to homecoming, and it was my first high school dance. That's a pretty big deal in a girl's life, so when my mom couldn't be there to help me pick out accessories and stuff to wear, I was sad. My dad took me out shopping to find the final touches: shoe clips to dress up my patent leather black flats and a purse that matched them perfectly. When we arrived home, I went into my room to get ready, sat down at my vanity area and found a note attached to the mirror. My mother wrote about how sorry she was that she couldn't be there to help me get ready for my first big dance, and that she loved me. But the sentiment that has stuck out in my mind for 25 years since reading it is this: I hope our happy times will always outweigh the bad.

Her words push on my mind again today as I consider all the things going on for me right now. Life, love, family, work, friends, and all the little things that fill in the rest make for an interesting ride on this roller coaster. It's funny how the fine details matter so much in the moment, but when we look back, the things that stick with us are the way we remember people treating us. My mother couldn't be there for me then, but she was. She took the time to consider my feelings, to understand my girlish heart.

I'm not so different even though a quarter of a century has passed since that first homecoming dance. I still notice how people take time to care. I notice all the love that comes my way making sure that the good always outweighs the bad. Yesterday, I was able to spend time with one of my favorite people on this planet, and everything was truly marvelous. Even though plans had to change because time slipped past us, it was so good. Consideration and kindness was in every thought and action. The day created another layer of joy for me to cherish, and I simply couldn't be happier right now in this moment.



today

Wishing I could stop the counting
Because though we may wish it,
Time will not stand still for us
But will sneak past,
So let us try slowing things down:
Breathe in minutes
Exhaling moments. 

tomato soup

Tomato soup with dumplings. My mother used to make this for dinner in the winter. I've never been fond of tomato soup, but for some reason those dumplings transform it into a delight. She worked her magic on the soup I think because my father loved tomato soup but none of us did. Knowing she liked to show my father that she cared by simple means gladdens my heart. There was so much love that I didn't notice as a child. It feels good to realize it even now that they're gone. 

Today, I decided to work some of my mother's magic. I needed some comfort food without having to spend a lot of time on it. Sundays are a day of rest for me. Like, I literally catch up on the rest I'm deprived of throughout the week. So as you can imagine, I fixed a batch of magical good stuff, got my blanket, and have been camped out on my purple sofa ever since. 


dance do-over

A student's YES! reply to Prom


Something that I adore about being a teacher is that I get to do a few high school things over. None of it is like a total do-over obviously, but I still get to have a fresh experience in some of the same situations. One of those same situations happens to be Prom. 

For my first quasi do-over I was a chaperone for Homecoming, and it was a blast. During the fast songs, many of my students were dragging me into the center of the circle and realizing that I have a few dance moves. Even with going stag, I don't think I ever had that much fun at a Homecoming dance in my entire high school life—and I had an amazing time at Homecoming dances. But to get back to Prom . . . 

Prom is a different story. I remember getting picked up in my boyfriend's brother's super hot red Acura and me looking like a million bucks just so I could stand in line for like ever for photographs in the entry of the Officers' Club on Nellis Air Force Base. Then, I danced a couple times with my date, a couple times with a few friends, but that was it. My boyfriend didn't care about making my Senior Prom memorable for me. I have so many regrets leading up to that day and on that night. Too much information to share even with me being an over sharer. 

So anyway. When I got word that Prom is coming up for my school, I thought it would be fun to make my first Prom as a teacher something worth remembering. Erase some bad by writing some good onto the page, right? Crazy me actually told a few students that I was considering bringing someone with me, so I could dance the slow songs too, and they all freaked out demanding that I do some elaborate ask-a-date-to-prom thing. Well, if you count sending a text as elaborate, I totally made good on their demands. 



And the best part about this story is he said yes. 




Top Ten Readers' Choice 2014


Another year gone by, another list showing me what you've enjoyed the most.

Now that I've done this list making thing a few times, I realize what a treasure it is to capture this moment in time when one year ends and another begins. I'm not into making New Years' resolutions; however, I very much enjoy reflecting on the past year in order to see how far I've come and take stock in how much further I still need to go with all that I want to do with my life. And this go around has given me a large measure of joy as I went through the several musings, remembering where I have been and comparing it to where I find myself today.

It is always a pleasure to share the very best slice of my year (in your estimation).

All Things Purple: Top Ten Readers' Choice 2014

 1. To Survive 

 2. Find Me 

 3. Be the Change 

 4. Uninvited 

 9. Safe 

10. On Thin Ice 


Honorable Mention: Texan Sunshine


Previous Years' Top Ten Lists:

2013
2012
2011



sweet escape

At the end of a crazy day, I read with my children, said prayers, and put them to bed. Then, I hot-tailed it to the grocery store with my neighbor for a wild night out on the town. We laughed and talked while we picked up a few things, like grapes and bread and stuff. It was a good time unwinding in a nerdy sort of way. But something happened as we were leaving that made me smile a little extra.

We were stilling laughing and talking as we left the store, and as we were loading the trunk, a guy who works at the store was walking past us and he asked if we needed some help. We said no but held a bit of friendly conversation before getting into the car. My friend got in last, and told me that I'd never guess what just happened. And I was like, huh? She then said that the guy we had just chatted with told her, "Don't tell your friend, but she is really cute." So, needless to say, she told me within a nanosecond of getting into the vehicle. And it made me smile. How sweet. 

But it also made me think about some of the idioms that we say. They don't always make sense—at all. Or maybe this one isn't supposed to. Is it a cue to do exactly opposite of what they say?  For any guys out there, know that if you use that opener "Don't tell your friend, but . . . " the friend will definitely tell. Within a nanosecond—or less—of being out of your earshot.

our first dance

Twirling
as
if
in
the
glittering
light
of
day
in 
the
midst
of 
the 
smoky
night
as 
you 
talk
with
me
dance
with
me
and 
hold 
me
as 
we 
move
in
whirl
of 
purest
delight
in
wave
of
happy
times
wish
to 
repeat
again
and
again
until 
we 
know 
nothing
but
the 
comforting
hum
of
our
swirled
souls
and
want
for 
nothing
more

On the stairwell in Decatur, Texas 

Texan Sunshine



It's been a week since I came home from my Texas adventures. And I have felt every minute of that week.

For the first half of my trip, I saw my family. The time I spent with them was great! It felt so good to see a brother who I haven't seen in a long while and to connect with his wife he married in December. I missed that guy! We didn't do anything terribly out of the ordinary, but we spent a whole lot of time talking, shopping, and just reconnecting. My favorite part was when we stayed up until about 3 a.m. hanging out, doing nothing. I am convinced that getting to stay up late talking has a magic in it that you can't get during any daylight hour. 

The second half of my vacation was spent meeting someone who has become a precious friend. I can hardly say anything about the experience without saying too much and possibly spoiling it, you know? Because sometimes you just don't share the special things with everyone. 

So what do I share?

Coming up on a year ago, a Twitter/Instagram friend made an impact on my life, and it has never been the same since. I wrote about it here: The Best Things Come From Texas. Before the trip out to Texas, he and I were already good friends because we have gotten to know each other over the past several months since I wrote about how a purple onion represents encouragement and layers of individuation. Now, after spending some time together in person, I count him as someone I hope to somehow always have around. I had a feeling about this kindred spirit from the very start, but to have actually crossed into a 3D relationship feels surreal and simply wonderful all at once. I believe that the unique experiences we shared while together in Texas have created an anchor of sorts for us.  And that's the best kind of friendship for which anyone could ask. 

During the time in Texas, I was able to be silly, honest, and kind. In turn, I was treated to the very best of silliness, a new layer of honesty for which I had hoped, and perfectly delightful kindness that I wish will never diminish. I felt the sun shining on me wherever I went, in places I had never been, with people who I will always care about, and the warmth I experienced heartened me deeply.

I feel blessed to have had the gift of time to spend reconnecting and creating new bonds. I will take that spent time and spread out the peace I gained long enough to tide me over until the next time I have the chance to soak up so much radiant sunshine. 





opportunity to love



The world became larger and smaller for me all at once within a few days time.

Amazing is the transformation we undergo when our perspectives shift and we can see from another person's view who we are. Also, taking time to listen to someone new and different from yourself teaches a great deal about how similar we all are and how much we need to have compassion. I will never see myself or my world the same again, and I am glad for it because my heart grew in ways I could never have imagined. Opportunities such as this are few, demanding that I treasure it for a lifetime and beyond. I will choose to love every second of the experience. Always.