Memories
20 Jan 2012 1 Comment
in breathing, change, family, mother Tags: child, family, mother, spiritual
Today, I sit at my laptop, logged into by remote to my office computer, my i-phone and kindle charging on my desk.
Life was so different while we were growing up.
We had a party line for our phone, when we had a phone; party lines are a great way to keep up on the neighborhood doings. I remember many lovely conversations, overheard as a child. My hand covered the mouthpiece, muting my giggles. Children, (and nosy neighbors) learned how to quietly pick up the phone, and quietly replace the receiver in its cradle. If I did not know what time it was, I would simply pick up the phone, dial O and ask the nice operator.
I remember a old gray washtub, that Mom would bring into the kitchen and fill with hot water for our baths. a privacy blanket over the door, (as the youngest, I was able to bathe first) and going out to the milk house in the cold of a winter night to stand under the cold hose there for a shower, with a little blue kerosene heater to keep us warm, or in the summer, a hose thrown over the clothesline, and showering with our swim suits on.
Mom worked hard to keep our home comfortable. Aluminum foil placed over the windows on sunny summer days to reflect the hot sun away, and the bowls of ice placed in front of the fans for our air conditioning. In the winter Mom would fill mason jars with hot water, wrap them in towels, then we would place them at our feet in bed at night to warm us into sleep.
Flashing back to a time I can only imagine, Mom, 16. just a child herself, newly married, and spending her first wedded year living with a mother in law who scared the beejeez out of her, and then, when dad came home from the service, moving out to a lonely farm in the back 40 acres of Iowa. No running water, no indoor utilities, only a wood stove for heat, pregnant, and working the farm. Mom persevered, as she always did.
She spent her years out there, working hard, bearing children, bringing more children home to us, and raising us all in a tumble up fashion.
In the summers she raised a garden, canned, worked the fields, put up hay, picked corn, had babies (well she had us in the summer, fall winter, and spring really)
Remember, she was still a child herself through much of this; she raised herself while raising us, and she lived, she persevered…
Flashing to another memories, this one I own. Sitting outside of a church under a shady tree, our bible school teacher is telling us about Jesus, showing us a picture of him, tiny, standing atop a green leaf, explaining that he is everywhere, even in a blade of grass.
I have had this view of God and Heaven since that time, everywhere all at once, in us, outside of us.
And that is the vision I have of our Mother, everywhere, inside of us, our hearts, and outside of us as well, a bigger view: Mother as part of Heaven, as part of the universe, on a greater adventure than even her life here, Mother now with Linda, her sisters and brother, her Mother, her soul spirit, all together,
Mom is planning her garden now, carnations, lilies, gladioli, and tomatoes. I am pretty sure a fluffy white kitten has found her way to that garden spot, and sits on Mom’s lap, while she herself sits under a tree, in a comfortable wooden rocker, at her ease, in her glory. Still living, still persevering.
Saddness
23 Jul 2011 Leave a Comment
in disasters, gypsies, little girl Tags: breathing, child, people, spiritual, women
The world lost yet another talented spirit at the age of 27. Amy Winehouse found dead in her apartment from unknown causes. I will miss her amazing talent and mourn her loss! Rest in the peace you deserve Amy!
My Grandma Schumacher
19 Jul 2011 2 Comments
in daydreams, family, history, little girl, random thoughts, words Tags: child, family, grandparents, women
In the summers I stayed at my Grandma’s and Grampa’s home (my father’s parents) for a week with my female cousins. Honestly, for the most part I hated it, except for a few things. I was homesick, and more than likely a little snot, and Grandma responded in kind with impatience. My hair snarled and she cranked at my tears when she combed it. Did not know my cousins well, never did get to know them.
Here is what I did like…
She had a wonderful wrap around screened in porch on her house and a spiked wrought iron fence around her yard.
My grandpa’s lap
the lonely yet exotic sound of the trains going past at night, while I sat by the window.
My dreams of flying high in the air, and looking at the world below.
And one time, one time only, Grandma unbending, sitting in her rocker, singing.
My best memories are the ones I keep.
It’s a Beautiful World
05 Jul 2011 Leave a Comment
in breathing, change, disasters, freedom, random thoughts, witness, world Tags: child, dreaming, freedom, spiritual, travel, world
a-beautiful-world-by-afghan-refugee-boys-ages-9-12-years.jpg
Cheri is cherishable
30 Jun 2011 Leave a Comment
in family, little girl Tags: child, family, sisters, women
I cherish you my sister Cheri, although I never let you know.
You are the woman who helped to raise me, you moved through life, guiding me, tending to my needs, loving me, with little or no feedback or appreciation given.
When I was a little girl, I believed you the most beautiful and elegant and successful woman in creation. I still do, although, I think, being you that you would scoff at such an assessment.
You left home when I was still so young, 17 years to my seven, married to Clyde, and bore him two sons, who in turn presented you with grandchildren of your own. Clyde was, in my small opinion, a piece of work. He treated you poorly, not at all up to the standards you deserved. And I consider you successful, simply because you persevered, and Cheri, you never say a bad word about him. Myself, I have not that type of forbearance. 
And you married John, who helped you raise you boys, who again, you say nothing but good about…when did you learn to be so very forgiving and kind?
You lived through poverty, money, moving, break ups, happiness, sadness, and always…even when you were pretty much all alone out in Colorado, you survived. Quietly, struggling, living on your own, taking care of you own wonderful self.
You gave up your life there to return home to help our sister Linda while she was passing from cancer. You work hard, without stop at jobs that would give a weaker woman pause. And you did those jobs well and faithfully.
You are funny, kind, and have many strong opinions. I admire that about you. You cut through nonsense, and get right to the point of the conversation.
You love animals, and care for your dog with joy, he in turn is devoted to you. You have our mother’s love of plants, and I remember gladioli you would buy from the farmers market to place in your home.
Your boys, raised by you, are amazing. They are both successful and determined men. They have themselves created loving families that they care for. They were raised patriotic, intense and talented. Congratulations.
As with all of my siblings, I see you seldom, not as much as I could. But know this, I love you.
Welcome Back Amy Winehouse!
16 Jun 2011 2 Comments
in change Tags: breathing, change, child, events, women
Amy Winehouse returned to the stage after a year after, putting her life back in place! Welcome back Amy, so wonderful to hear your fantastic words and voice again. I love victory!
To my Mother
08 May 2011 Leave a Comment
in family, little girl Tags: child, mother, people, women
I love you my Mother, the woman who bore me, the woman who endured so very much to raise me and all of your children. You have never been a victim of your life, you are a survivor. You are the greatest freedom fighter, a woman who raised yourself high, amidst a rather chaotic background, who made mistakes, and prospered, who did right things, and lived. I salute you.
You are the woman, who, I realize are the core of me, the backbone that has moved me through my chaos, although until today I have never voiced this knowledge to you. Our own relationship was somehow diminished early in my life, through no fault of yours, but rather through the sadness and anger of external life. Our distance became an unhappy habit.
I love your spirit Mom, your strength, your toughness, and your truth of life. This is something you need to know this day. You are a landmark in my life; the woman with the fierce history, the woman who walked through fire to protect her own, lived through pain, loved her babies with an intense heart. You are the woman who touched a growing plant and made it blossom with beauty. 
You made it through not only one, but four husbands, now that is enough to make any woman give up. Good grief! Four men to raise! And still you moved forward. You raised eight babies into I think pretty amazing people. You had to, sadly, see one go, our Linda. You lived through war, poverty, the harsh environment of that little farm in Iowa, cold winters, broken bones, back-breaking work, the strong rarity of a difficult every day existence. Yet, you created beauty for us all and your self in the best way you could. We always had flowers growing, and remember that wonderful peach tree you sheltered so faithfully out by the milk house door, the one that you nursed through many winters? Mom, you are tenacious, stubborn and determined. You are a scraper, a fighter, an artist, and a love; all rolled into one.
I inherited my love of the sunshine from you, my love of the earth, my love of a good time, and perhaps my obstinate personality. I inherited my red hair, my blue eyes, my nose, my hands, my sometimes faithful adherence to putting my foot forward every day… all from you.
I see large beauty in small items; this I learned from you, the woman who could take cockle burrs to turn into works of art, the woman who taught me how to iron leaves between sheets of waxed paper to frame on the wall, to bake a roast beef, fry a chicken, tried to teach me how to sew, but rightfully gave up on that one.
You taught me how to bowl, to tie my shoes, clean a house, read a book. I inherited a quest for knowledge from you, the want to understand what is happening around me.
You are a human goddess, full of the vagaries of both divine and human spirit.
You, our Mother, have made a full and intense life, you have sung beautiful songs, raised recalcitrant children, birthed cows, planted fields, created beauty. You are the woman of the moment, woman of the world
Bless you Mother with love.
Picture this…
21 Mar 2011 Leave a Comment
in daydreams, gypsies, little girl Tags: child, cowgirl, dreaming, spiritual
Yes, I have always been a cowgirl.
Zau has Zest!
21 Feb 2011 Leave a Comment
in family, People I Know, random thoughts Tags: child, family, friends, minneapolis, people, spiritual, travel, women
My friend Zau is from Angola, born there during a war-torn period. My understanding is that he grew up in a pretty normal environment, had a loving father and mother, siblings, cousins; a complete life. His normalcy changed at the age of 12. At that age he was removed from his home and impressed into the Angolan Army.
His normal existence was still that, normal I mean, a new normal. Brutal relationships replaced loving ones, his companions were still similar in some ways, and childhood friends grew with him into strong soldiers. Normal became a tough, unyielding, day by day process of staying alive, staying healthy, living under a shadow of fear.
Zau’s spirit stayed strong through this all, continued to grow, perhaps overwhelmed by the meagreness of his existence over the years, but his spirit prospered. He continued to love and honor relationships…
When Zau turned 18 his closest companion was killed during combat. Now understand that the normal procedure for fallen comrades was to bury them at the site. Zau did not want that for his friend, and did not want the family of his friend to always wonder what had happened to their cherished son.
So, picking up his friend, he left the battle field, making an irrevocable choice to truly believe in compassion and freedom. He carried his friend home, and left him in the village of his heart and life.
With that choice he also made the choice to leave the war, and the control and sadness that he had lived under, unwillingly for his past years. He left the county of Angola, and traveled, eventually ending in Rio de Janeiro, where he earned a living creating wonderful jewelry and leather work, and fathering the child of his heart, Zinga.
It came to pass that while he was selling his art in a city bazaar in Rio, he met the woman of his heart, my friend Karen Sorbo. They recognized the correctness of their love and he eventually left Rio to come to live in Minnesota with Karen. I had the honor of performing their wedding ceremony a few years ago, and it was right.
Every departure has some grief, and Zau was not able to bring his daughter home to Minnesota, she to this day remains in Rio with her mother. They live in a destitute area of the city, filled with gang fighting and drugs. He is unable to convince her mother to move.
At this time Zau visits her as often as he can, supports her and her mother. He wants to bring her home with him, but is not allowed by our governments to do so; he has no real rights as her father.
If any story I write has a goal, the goal of this story is to send out waves of love to Zau and Zinga, to send out waves of hope, and compassion and awareness. It is my goal to help Zau bring his daughter home with my words, and hopefully with the spirit and heart of you who are reading this.
Victorious Veronica
31 Jan 2011 1 Comment
in People I Know Tags: battered women, child, people, shelters, women
All of us have the honor of meeting incredible people. I am blessed with many such honors.
One of the Women I have met is Veronica. Veronica is a child’s advocate at a Minneapolis area woman’s shelter. Her soul is gentle, her heart is fierce; a powerful combination! Veronica is a perfect advocate, loves the kids that are in her care, and loves those that she have not yet had the chance to care for.
Veronica inspires me, when I speak with her I feel ready to help the world, ready to live up to her standards. She is goodness.
Veronica wants children that live in her home, children she can nurture on a daily basis, children she can love with unencumbered joy, raise, and revel in. I cannot think of a more perfect mother than Veronica when the children she desires come into her life. 
I’m patiently waiting for that time, although I know she is not at all patient, she wants the children NOW.
Veronica is love.
