Monthly Archives: June 2016

Salvation

20 Monday Jun 2016

Posted by in Humiliation, Salvation, Uncategorized, Vacation Rentals

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My ‘Mountain House’ is listed on a vacation rental site. Since the upstairs is a single, separate room (my bedroom) and I’m not there often, I listed it almost two years ago. A corner of the bedroom is separated by a 3/4 wall into a bathroom area; sink, toilet, shower. It is functional, not luxurious.

The listing states this. It’s basic, no frills. Locals call this “mountain style.” I think of this home as my salvation.

My track record for this endeavor is awful. Every single episode has been a trauma/drama. A year ago, I let a person stay. He ended up taking $1200 cash out of my roommate’s pocket. (My roommate had draped his jeans over the chair outside the downstairs bathroom to grab a quick shower before he paid his laborer’s. The cash was in his pocket.) The money was eventually returned. The guest admitted he took it.

It was a costly lesson that left a scar. I spent a year saying “No” to requests. (In order to keep my Vacation Rental Status with the county, I maintain it as such.)
But on Friday night I said yes. It too has turned turned into another ridiculous experience.

I just got a notification from the host site that the guest was requesting a refund. It turns out that he was there with his mom. Apparently, she was expecting a much higher level of linens. I will refund the money. And laugh.

I’ve saved her review as a Screen Shot on my iPhone to remind me to say NO! My favorite part is the description of the bed linens; “Like something from the Salvation Army, or worse.” I hope this makes you laugh.

Laughing at myself is my true salvation.

Twelve Yesterdays

14 Tuesday Jun 2016

Posted by in Assault Rifles, Ban Assault Rifles, Gun Control, insanity, Orlando, Uncategorized, Yesterday,

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Yesterday, I wrote to twelve close friends asking them to please sign a petition and forward it to twelve others. I got one reply saying that she’d signed and forwarded it along. The petition simply said “Congress should reinstate the federal ban on assault rifles.”

My daughter Emily’s Sunday evening blog post after the  horrible Orlando tragedy was entitled, “I’m Sorry, But Your Statistics Don’t Matter.” She ends her post with this; “Enough is enough.”  I offered the petition as a way of trying to begin to make the change. She is right, enough is enough, and as her mom, I want to cheer her on.

When Emily was in high school, she’d run in a track meet at Columbine High School. I was sitting in the bleachers with my 13 year old son and my 90 year old grandmother cheering her on. Our lives were affected by that shooting but we’ve had 17 years of tomorrows. The twelve students who died that day only have yesterdays.

It was for those twelve students that I picked twelve people to send the petition to. It is time for a change. If we can’t reinstate the ban on assault weapons, we have to figure out a solution that can be achieved. Maybe we have to ban the ammunition. Let’s figure this out people. Let’s honor the fallen.

Go in Peace

12 Sunday Jun 2016

Posted by in Forgiveness, Peace, Uncategorized

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Today, my 16 year old niece is hosting a Celebration of Life for her dad. My brother died exactly three weeks ago.  Families can sometimes fracture when faced with suffering. His oldest daughter was considered his Next of Kin. She moved far away six years ago. She never came forward after his death.

His daughters are ten years apart in age. He was a single parent. By law, as his siblings, we had to wait the mandatory ten days before we could legally step in. We claimed his body. His cremation has been ordered. Closure can finally begin.

My own grandmother lost her father when she was 16. Her mom had died four years before. Grandma Genevieve had a sister who was older by 15 years. In a profoundly sad and painful way, history repeats.

For this Celebration of Life, I was searching through a frayed photo album I inherited after mom died. She must have acquired it following dad’s death. It had belonged to his mother, my grandmother. It was filled with the typical array of classic family photographs; newborns, graduates, brides, etc.  Safely secured in the dead center of the album; there was a single, solitary letter; envelope included.

The saved letter was from her older sister. In unsteady but deliberate handwriting this document said:

“Dear Genevieve, I can’t stand your absence any longer. I hope you have not been ill or are sick. It’s a long time since I have not seen you- just drop me a line para apari guar me, it’s not a happy feeling- don’t use the phone because I can’t hear too well. I love you, Your Sister Sarah.”

The Hispanic side of my family used English and Spanish interchangeably.” Para apari guar” means; to pacify me. Aunt Sarah died three years later and just two months after she died, my grandmother died.

After I read this letter, I couldn’t stop thinking about how critical it is to forgive.

I grieved hard for their loss. Something had happened between my grandmother and her sister. I’ll never know what it was, but I do know this; forgiveness is the only way to truly rest in peace. Death happens to us all. Go in peace.

Stranger Hero

09 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in Goodness Rules, Stranger, Uncategorized

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I’d walked down to watch the sunrise. I do this regularly but haven’t gone in a few weeks. My brother was here for a rapid, intense remodel of my absurdly small sliver of a bathroom. Then, the deluge came. Tools and damp materials occupy a part of nearly every area of this 600 square foot casita but the beach was pulling on me hard. For me, a productive day is more likely when it starts with a walking meditation.

An easy one thousand footsteps to the water’s edge, I got there as dawn was just breaking. Rising precisely from the exact line of horizon; that round, red, big, bright orb. Gulf water can often be the color of Mississippi mud, mainly after heavy rains, but it too was especially spectacular. Remarkable.

Gentle waves glided ashore. Aquamarine blues transformed to emerald green and the emeralds transformed into sapphires. Rolling rainbows of sparkling water diamonds. Unbelievably beautiful. I walked along peacefully mesmerized. A few other early birds were already out enjoying the show.

I walked to my normal destination and stopped to try and let this gift cleanse my cluttered mind. Our lives are complex. Stories of national tragedies can sometimes tip me over and my balance wavers. I was struggling to wrap my head around a few things that were pushing too close to my own comfort zone.

I stay alert when I am out and about. Walking alone I pay attention. I notice who is around. Another walker had passed me when I took my moment to soak in the beauty. He was about thirty yards behind me when I turned around to head back.

As I got closer to the area where I have to use the steps to get back up to the seawall, a scene began unfold. At the bottom of the steps was a highly agitated, screaming man. I could turn around and walk back East to another set of steps. I stopped to try and decide what to do. By now, the other walker was next to me. He too was concerned. He could tell I was trying to decide what to do.

He quietly said, I will walk with you if you want. And together we walked over toward the steps. By the time we got to the steps, the agitated man had wandered off and the problem had resolved itself.

My morning was rescued. A total stranger stepped forward to try and keep me safe. There are heroes among us. We walked along the seawall and exchanged the ten minute versions of our lives. Goodness rules. There are more good people than troubled people. Thank you stranger. You’re my hero.

Balancing Act

04 Saturday Jun 2016

Posted by in Balance, Grief, Uncategorized

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Out running errands after the rain stopped, I heard my phone ding. It dinged again so I pulled over.The text was from one of my grown children. It asked who ”Somebody” was.

A person had just posted something horrific about a dear member of our family.  I called. I could hear the tears in her big, blue eyes. She sounded like the 5 year old version of her 33 year old self.

We’re a tough bunch but sometimes, things hurt deeply. I needed to let my fully grown child know that the person who had posted the garbage was hurting too. Yes, what the FB Poster did was wrong and what she said was too. It’s not easy to balance the necessity to remain tough with the need to be compassionate.

Yesterday was a rough day. Our family finally got to claim my brother’s body and proceed to the next step in the passage that begins when you die. Feelings are all jumbled up.  Badly-timed, often spilling out in unpredictable places. Mainly, relief that he is no longer suffering but very, deep concern for his now parent-less children. Presently, they’re living with grandparents. Nothing is easy or simple right now.

My daughter immediately went to the defense of our dear family member and reported the hateful post. After I got the call, I drove directly back home. I needed to see for myself what was going on and I didn’t want to do it from the side of the road. When other people’s pain hurts my kids, I take action.

By the time I looked, the post had already been removed. My daughter has a two year old daughter. I hope she grows up to be like her mom. Strong enough to handle the hard stuff but wise enough to stay true to your heart, to your family, and to the people you love.

We will get through this. Part of the grief process is painful.

Don’t let the pain hijack your core values. Lead with love.

Call Him Courage

03 Friday Jun 2016

Posted by in Cancer, Courage, Uncategorized

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The last class he taught was Meteorology. It was mainly to cadets. He was on his last legs and they were only just learning to really walk. He’d sent me an email asking to meet. He starts another round Chemotherapy next week. After his last round, what he calls “Chemo-brain” hung on far too long.

I met with him yesterday. I needed to honor his recent retirement.  As the adviser for the Master’s program he was the faculty counselor I met with during the interview process. I’d decided I should get a Master’s Degree at the age of 52 when it looked like I needed to provide income for a very young niece and nephew.  I got my Bachelor’s Degree in 1976 and applied to grad school 30 years later. Yikes.

He was the professor that ‘Hooded’ me when I walked for that degree two years later. Hurricane Ike hit our coastline the September before my December graduation. Our entire campus relocated from Galveston to College Station that semester. I was allowed to stay on the island since I was a research assistant for Center for Texas Beaches and Shores and I was needed to conduct initial field assessments.

I carved out an hour of my busy time to sit and share a hot chocolate with this kind man. His physical demeanor has changed drastically since his battle with cancer. He told me that this last semester was nearly impossible, though he loves teaching Meteorology. An essential science for all but particularly those who spend time at sea. Atmosphere controls the weather. Weather can wreck ships and lives.

I asked him about his wife. He said she is putting up with him. I suggested we walk over to the floral department so he could take home a small bouquet. Turns out the florist was someone he knew from his church. He introduced me to him as one of his favorite people. I noticed tears pooling in his eyes.

I write this tribute with tears in mine. I am eternally grateful for his gentle guidance and steady encouragement. I know that my life was not the only one he helped. May his last class of cadets grow to be the caliber of human that he is. May his courage help them weather whatever storms they may face.