The Time Of Your Life

I believe "the time of your life" is a bit of an oxymoron.

Living your life is the longest amount of time you will spend in this life,

but the time spent living your life will appear to have flown by,

as quickly as the crow flies.

At the end of the day, can you nod your head,

and say "I had the time of my life"?  ~ Diana

The Date Speaks For Itself

I wrote on FaceBook about my memories of this day.  The horror, the fear, the utter disbelief that something like that could really happen in the U.S., the sorrow for all the people that died and their loved ones left behind to pick up the pieces. 
What happened within the sphere of my own little world was eclipsed by this immense catastrophe and abomination.
What I know now is that September 11, 2001 was the beginning of the end and my life would be changed forever.
Things happened during my drive home from Herndon, VA, which began that very day due to my United flight being grounded, that would drive a wedge between my husband, Ray and myself. A rent in the fabric that bound us together that would never be repaired and my marriage would end less than two years later.

I sit now in front of my computer in the wee hours before dawn, nine years after that explosive day, wondering about the life I'm leading.  Do I have a purpose anymore? What is it that I really want to do with the remaining days, hours, and minutes of my life? Lately, I've had many reminders of how precious life is and how quickly it can be snatched away. I don't want to waste a second!
Which comes to my next question...What is it that will make me feel my life has been worth something?
These are questions not easily answered by me and no one else can answer them for me.

A Conundrum!

When I made the choice to leave California and totally change my life, I had great aspirations. BUT, as that old saying goes, "The best laid plans of mice and men, or in this case, woman..."
I swore I never wanted to commute again, and here I am, 3 years later, commuting 65 miles one way to a job, that on its best day, can claim to pay me a salary that covers my debts and allows me to live comfortably, plus the people I work with are decent human beings. I have enjoyed quite a lot of laughter in their company and maybe that's the one reason that keeps me coming back.
The down side is that I bought a 2008 Ford Escape Hybrid, which was supposed to last me a good 10 years, but can now boast 95,000 miles (all accumulated with me behind the wheel) and I have a job that gives me NO sense of satisfaction.  I create nothing, much less anything of beauty or lasting worth.

The home I've been renovating has turned into a beautiful Albatross. I couldn't sell it for what I have into it, especially in this economy, if my life depended on it.
On the bright side, the Albatross is beautiful and suits me. It is something that I have created, that I still take pride in, and it's still a work in progress.

I can't say how many times I've been told that I am a very lucky woman. Generally, this has been said by women that are unhappily married and financially stuck in the marriage because they don't work or the job they have wouldn't support them.  I don't envy them, but living single isn't always as glamorous as some people like to envision.

Well, since I can't solve all my questions tonight due to a tired brain (it's my Friday and putting in a 50 hour work week, add in 12.5 hours of commuting, really does me in), instead, I've decided to share how I plan to honor those that were lost during that infamous day, nine years ago.

I am going out and buying 4 trees to add to the beauty of my home.  I wish I could get them planted today, but that just isn't going to happen.  I'll be lucky to just get them picked out, paid for, and a future date set for planting.  I want a "Flame" Maple and another larger shade tree for the front yard and two colorful shade trees for the back yard .  With luck, they will provide shade and color for years to come.

So to honor the dead, I will promote life, beauty, and a positive impact on the environment. Beautiful life that continues long after I'm dead and gone.

I will never forget September 11, 2001.

Why I Cry

If I talk out loud, I'll probably choke up and cry, so instead I'll write.

I wouldn't have cried earlier today, but my brother finally cracked. It's the first time that has happened since we were little kids.

Our parents were extremely stoic when we were growing up. Tears were a sign of weakness.

Even when my dad punched me in his rare fits of rage, no teardrops would spill over to leave telltale tracks sparkling down my cheeks, to give way to terror and hurt.

Life has taught me to cry. Cry at the pain caused by sorrow and loss. Cry in empathy when I know the people I love are hurting. Cry at Man's inhumanity to each other and at his/her cruelty to animals and the world around us. To cry in the face of death.

I take care of the people I love, it's just what I do, what I've always done. Not in the nurturing Earth Mother way, but as the protector, the champion, sometimes through sheer strength of will,  and of course, with the money I've earned from working since I was fifteen. I've been doing it as long as I can remember.

It is very hard for me not to want to rush to my family's or friend's aid, and my heart breaks when I can't fix their problems. I try hard to accept that which I cannot change nor repair.

Today I had a phone conversation with my brother.

Here is my brother John's story...

[a short history]
A little over a year ago, they had to walk away from their home in Florida. John had been working for his son-in-law at a Title and Loan company near Tampa. With the collapse of the economy, the company floundered and work was cut back, as well as salaries. John's included.

Cathy was working in Clearwater, but then she got sick and ended up in the hospital. When she was feeling better, she worked when she was able.

They were offered an opportunity to open a new Rehab/Detox Center in Nashville. They agreed they both hated Florida and jumped at a new beginning. They spent most of their savings and moved to Tennessee, but now they could only afford to rent. John had told me several months back that with a foreclosure on their record, some places won't even rent to them. Fortunately, they did find a cheap place to live and keep their pets.
In Nashville, Cathy's 99 year old mom (who had been living with them for almost 18 years) finally went into a nursing home nearby.

[from the phone call]

Early last month, Cathy, had to go back into the hospital. I didn't know that until today. They do not have medical insurance and I'm pretty sure their doctor bills are astronomical. Despite the setbacks, they are generally happy people, poor but proud.

Then two weeks ago, their tiny home was broken into. The robbers had to have been idiots, because they smashed through a window in the backyard, even though the back door was not locked. John and Cathy's two dogs must have caused a ruckus, but Eli is 10 years old and Millie, 13, plus a cat, Sammy, 9. are not spring chickens anymore. Too old to put up a strong fight against young thugs.

Eli and Millie have been best friends for 10 years, ever since Eli was rescued off a country road during a rainstorm near Topeka as a 6 week old puppy. Millie is a Golden Retriever (the dumb blonde) and Eli is a Belgian Malinois (the genius goofball).

Needless to say, the burglars terrorized the dogs by throwing all kinds of stuff from around the house at them to keep them at bay. A lot of personal items were broken, but they only stole John and Cathy's laptops (their livelihood) and a large monitor.

Because John and Cathy both have to use a computer to do their jobs (basically self-employed), they had to use part of their rent money to buy another computer. They don’t have renter's insurance.

John said that after the burglary, it seemed like Eli's spirit was broken. Maybe because the old boy hadn't been able to protect the house which had always been his job. John and Cathy were just glad neither dog was killed.

Then last night, a mistake was made and tragedy struck.

John got home from work late. Cathy was in bed, because she wasn't feeling well, and because she is partially deaf, didn't hear any of what was to follow.

John took both dogs out front to stretch their legs (not on leashes, because he says it was late and there weren't any cars out). He usually stands out there with them and smokes a cigarette, but last night he stepped inside for just a second to turn on the new laptop in order to finish some paperwork.

He had no sooner begun the boot-up when he heard Eli's agonized screams. Rushing back out the front door, no car in sight, he saw Eli lying in the middle of the street. Millie stood on the sidewalk waiting for Eli to get back up. John rushed to Eli's side as did two neighbors. He said Eli looked pretty messed up, obviously he had been hit by a car, but he was alive. Eli stopped screaming as soon as he saw his daddy. His trusting eyes knowing that Daddy would make everything better.

One of the neighbors rushed back home and returned with a large board so they could lift Eli into the back of John's truck. John said his mind had stopped functioning at that point and he was thankful the neighbors were there. One of them rode in the back of John's truck with Eli, while John followed the other neighbor's car to the emergency animal hospital.

They rushed Eli in and while my brother stood beside his beloved dog, tears flowing unabashedly, he was handed the written estimate. In order for the veterinarians to take measures to keep Eli alive, it would cost over $1000.00. It might as well have been a million dollars. My brother had $108.00 in his pocket and $50.00 in the bank, the sum total of his liquid assests. He gave it all to the vet, but instead of saving Eli, he had to choose to put him to sleep. He gave Eli a final hug goodbye, then stood outside while the deed was done. He left the vet hospital still owing another $100.00.

My brother has never had human children of his own, Eli and Millie are his children.

My brother's pain and anger came to a head, when he asked me if I could send any pictures I might have of Eli, because all his pictures were taken when the laptops were stolen. That's when he broke down completely.

On the phone, through his tears, he asked me if I thought that he or Cathy had brought this bad Karma down on themselves.

I know that all they have ever tried to do is help other people. They are genuinely good people.

So, I told him that I believe that evil walks among us and at times raises its ugly head against good people. Maybe to make us give up and turn away from our goodness, but we must hold steadfast. Till my dying breath, I will believe that good can prevail.

I told him to remember that they had saved a sad and frightened little puppy from certain death ten years ago and given him a wonderful life, a life of love. Don't lose sight of all those good years, little brother and then I promised I would send him every picture I had ever taken of Eli, Millie, Mozart (their old cat, now deceased), their Topeka home and of course, the ones I have of the both of them through the years.


I told him that my house is big, that if their world gets to be too harsh, my door will always be open.

I told him I love him and Cathy.

Ah, that I could open Time in a Bottle.
Proferred to my brother and his wife,
please imbibe,
to dull grief's pain, linger only memories, treasured,
and softly abide.

Now you know why I cry.