I Remember: a poem

I remember

Walking to school,

Riding my bike,

Swim in the pool

Taking a hike


I remember

Riding my horse

Sweeping the barn

live in the city

Not on a farm


I remember


Purple and White

Piedmont Senior High

My pants weren’t tight


I remember

Seeing him first

In parking lot

Made my heart burst

He was so hot


I remember

Getting married

Living with him

Life was harried

Not a bit grim


I remember

Robi Lee’s birth

Army Reserves

I had a girth

Making preserves


I remember

Vancouver house

Dylan and Dad

Chasing the mouse

Life was not bad


I remember

Nine eleven

All the changes

He’s no E-seven

We’re here long range


I remember

His deployment

Did not know what this meant

Packages sent

I paid the rent


I remember

Being notified

The funeral

Being Terrified

feeling fried.


I remember

All of that stuff

Now don’t give me gruff

It’s in the past

Time went by fast.

I remember




An Idea Came To Mind

An Idea Came To Mind

In the car an idea came to mind,
couldn’t write it down, no hands-free.
In a fleeting moment, it was there,
A moment later, eternally it’s gone.

In the checkout line, an idea came to mind,
desperate for paper, I turned around.
People in front and people in back,
I’m stuck in the middle, without you.

In the stadium seats, an idea came to mind,
my legal pad and pencil in hand.
People talking, yelling hurray,
Watch the game, you are missing him play.

In the car, an idea came to mind,
watch the road, cars, and lights,
right of way belongs not to me,
I’m in the car when an idea came to mind.


Isn’t it interesting when people make judgments (rash ones at that) based on the location of your birth. This past week some guy on Facebook judged me to be a liberal solely based on one simple fact. I was born in San Francisco. Because of the city of my birth, I, therefore, am a liberal. Which is so far from the truth.

What is it that makes people think they know a person solely by one simple statement. San Francisco is where I was born, it is where I spent the first 2 years of my life, but is does not define me as an American or a human. If I was to be like this guy, I would think every single person in New York City was afraid of guns. Which is utterly idiotic to even think such a thing. What I learned yet again this past week is very simple.

You can’t fix stupid! Idiots will always be around and a lot of them will make rash idiotic statements based on very little fact. I can’t fix them, nor at this point in my life do I want to try. I will, however, point out the error of their ways and move on.

Hotter than…..

OK, so I’m in Phoenix visiting my daughter and her lovely family. It’s HOT here. I mean it’s almost 10pm and it’s still 100 degrees outside. I mean, REALLY???? For a Northwest girl, this weather is excessively hot, but I’m liking it. It’s so hot that the kids (my grandkids) and I went swimming at 8:30 tonight and I finally got out of the pool at 9:15pm. It was simply delightful. Well except for the cannonball contest.

Poor kids they lost that one. Lesson learned, never challenge Nana to a cannonball contest. She will beat you’re silly little rear-ends every time.

Yesterday I went out and looked at new homes. It’s very tempting to move down here. I would be closer to the only family I have and I could spend a lot more time with my grandkids. BUT that means leaving the Northwest, where I absolutely love living. So its weighing in the pro’s and con’s of staying and leaving. hum big decisions coming up.

The Essay

Sitting out on my patio in the early moring hours waiting for the day to begin drinking my cup of coffee in my “Sinceriously” mug my mind wonders from here to somewhere else. The bell for the high school rings telling the students it is time to get to class, and the bell tells me it’s 7:45am. The same school where both of my kids (Robi and Dylan) graduated. Remembering the day that Dylan died is painful and writing about it brought everything back to the surface once again. This time, however, it didn’t hurt as much as it had in the past. So maybe writing about this in my Personal Essay was a good thing, well we’ll go with that for now.

When I started my essay, I had a hard time writing it. Well to be more honest about it I agonized over it for a week (that was all the time I had to finish it) I wanted to tear it up. I wanted to put it back in the box and not bring up the subject again, but something kept his death at the forefront of my thinking and nothing I tried to write aside from his death was working. So I kept at it and kept writing. Turns out maybe I did a good thing here, but it’s not completed yet.

I gave my essay to a friend here in town because on my last assignment for this class I only received one critique for my work, and I don’t feel it was enough. I’m glad I did. Not only did she correct grammar issues, but gave me some solid ideas as well. My ending wasn’t right and I knew that from the moment I wrote it, but I didn’t know what to do. I was stuck. My friend suggested that I bring it around to the my little house or something like that. I think this is a good idea. Now just doing it will be difficult.

The one critque I have from my classmates is a really good one. This classmate had a different view of what I wrote (oh go away sun, I can’t see the sceen if you come out now) She suggested that I change up the beginning to give it a sense of continuity in the description of my neighbor hood. I like that idea. In one paragraph she has suggested changing up the sentences so the emotional impact would be better. And I have to admit, it sounds better with her suggestion here.

Maybe writing this essay was good for me. Maybe others will read it and say “WOW” and sit back in their chair thinking ‘how could a woman go through that?” I don’t know. But my hope with this essay is to give a small piece of my heart to others and let them see what I’ve gone through.