# 356 - Rain Water Catchment Systems

Part of my classic movie watching included "Night of the Living Dead" and it was creepy. I think I've seen bits and parts of it through the years, but never all the way through. It was odd.

Speaking of scary, a group of family members are addicted to the AMC television series, "The Walking Dead" because it has a mixture of survivalist concepts combined with a virus of some type that turns the dead into The Walking Dead or you'll become one of them if you are scratched, bit or infected by a "Walker."

If you watched "Lost," I am finding that this series is very similar. Bands of people, good groups, bad groups...the monsters that you must avoid...it's compelling and addicting. It's hard to watch scary things, but it is October. BOO!

As for interesting details, I've been studying the possibility of setting up the cabin with a rain catchment system to use for most water needs. With a dad who is a plumber and a brother who loves to be a naturalist himself, I'm in good hands. Even the deputy has good ideas and a strong drive to lean toward such a system --- between these three men, I think a great system can be put in place for the country cabin. A good system can provide all the water needed for cooking, washing, gardening and more.

There is a man here in Texas, West Texas, where it is high and dry with problems getting water and he got around the lack of water sources by putting in a rain water catchment system. He built an incredible log cabin on five acres with his system at work every day, he's been an integral teacher for others to learn this system. He's my hero of the week.

Below is a link to create a rain water catchment system.

http://texaswater.tamu.edu/conference/feb05/kniffen.pdf

Billy Kniffen served as the first president of the Texas Rain Water Catchment Association. Billy's family has lived using a rain catchment system in that area of Texas that can be dry and brutal and without suitable well water. Rain water has been his family's only water source.

With a rain water catchment system, you won't have to rely on public water, you won't have to worry about paying a water bill, you won't have to worry about the high expense of digging a well and the limitations that come with having a well, you won't have to worry about a well going dry and you can set up catchment systems throughout your acreage, where needed, large or small.

Internet picture of Billy Kniffen's home in West Texas.

He set up a system where rain is capture from the rooftop of the house and the barn and he stores captured rain water in 3,000 gallon tanks. His system gives him a supply that would last about 7 months. Of course, he and his family utilize practices and tools that help reduce their daily water consumption, but those are not expensive to put into place and developing proper habits can be easily learned.

He takes what he calls the "Two-Minute Military Man Shower." Actually, I was laughing out loud when I read this because I lived for three years in Germany where our water was an extremely high priced commodity As part of our Introduction to the base, for those of us who would be living on the economy (off base) we were going to have to learn how to ration water and electricity on a level we'd never been forced to do before.

This meant were were given detailed, serious instructions on how conserve such resources. For showers, we were taught to turn on the water, just long enough to drench the body and hair, turn off the water, lather up and scrub, then turn the water back on to rinse. For years, this is how I showered. In fact, when we purchased our first RV and it had the shower head with the easy one-flip switch to turn off the water without turning the knobs for temperature change, I thought it was brilliant and wondered why household showers don't have these same kinds of shower heads as standard equipment? If they came standard, the public might have a tendency to use less water. Of course, there will be those people who will never flip the switch, but for those who do, they are making the world a better place.

As for the training in electricity, Germans have incredible windows. The best I've ever seen. Their windows have the capacity to be covered by outer roll-down shutters that completely block out the light and protect the windows from a single rain drop when it storms. The shutters are great for home protection and to block solar energy. To this day, I miss having those shutters. Ours were the hand-crank variety and a couple were rolled up and down through pulling a sturdy strap built into the wall. To this day I would love to have those on our windows.

The Germans also had bright light in every room and a power switch was rarely used during the day. Even now, I live every day without hardly ever touching a light switch. I prefer natural lighting, even as it dims throughout the day. If I'm doing task-oriented work, then I will use a light. However, my power usage is minimal. The one thing I splurge on is air-conditioning. However, I  know that when I'm in the country and beneath some shade trees, there's no need for cooled air, it feels perfect beneath the trees.

Billy Kniffen now travels and trains others through rain catchment workshops so they can also learn to live without purchasing water. It's one way to live a little off the grid.

Additionally, he uses a wood stove to heat his log cabin and he built his cabin with a three-sided porch to avoid solar gain and to make outside living space more enjoyable. In Texas, outside living space is important to most people.

His family uses the grey water from the washing machine to water the yard.

All of the diagrams help to make some sense out of this rain water catchment system.

The below link is more of Billy Kniffen's work and it has a great photo of his own home that I love. There's also a rain water catchment system behind a varnished wood fence that makes the system non-intrusive and beautiful.

http://www.ctahr.hawaii.edu/hawaiirain/Library/papers/powerpoint%20files%202007%20conference/Kniffen.pdf

# 355 - Random Rambling Thoughts

The past few days I've felt under the weather. Fortunately, I have a household member who is nice enough to cook and keep the kitchen under control as I get extra rest. Yes, I do have an appointment to see the doctor, next Tuesday. The bad part about having a really good doctor is that everyone else usually feels the same way, they all want an appointment. But, I am trying to patiently wait my turn.

Meanwhile, my appetite is reduced, but my spouse is putting his cooking skills to good use as he is making something delicious every night after getting home from work...each dish is better than restaurant quality. That's a talent that I do not possess.

I'm a turkey sandwich kind of gal.

Also, I appreciate the kindness of having someone prepare my meals right now. He doesn't have to do it, but he does it out of kindness. I can tell you this much, when I'm in a foul mood, the last thing I want to do is be in the kitchen. It's a good thing the dogs don't have to rely on me to cook their food, I just have to turn the bag sideways and I'm DONE! The chickens need to eat? Scoop and sprinkle. DONE!

Even so, I don't get much appreciation for keeping the floors clean every day or for polishing the banister and furniture but that's not a very digestible contribution. Oh, the lemon smell is nice, but it can't compare to the aroma of lasagna wafting through the air. Only when I'm unable to do my chores a couple days in a row is it suddenly noticed as a regular chore that doesn't take care of itself. No doubt, a household requires multiple acts to keep it running smoothly. The two of us have great experience at being on auto-pilot to make things run smoothly, no matter what. I guess we're kind of like a fine-tuned machine. The problem is...I could use a little less mechanics and a bit more elbow grease.

Today, as I laid around feeling pathetic with a slight fever and aching joints, I began to think about the acreage --- the big decision of the moment is whether to build the cabin on the side of the land that already has the septic in place or to build it a few acres away where city water can be made available...because it's already piped to the corner of the land on that side of the acreage.

Pros and Cons of one side of the acreage compared to the other for the cabin:

1. Area of septic system already in place has soil that is much softer, as if the natural springs in the area run heavily through that zone. For about three years we had an RV in that area and we'd often have spongy feeling soil. Many a vehicle has sunk to its chassis in this area, including one of my brother's prized 4-wheel drives that had to be rescued by a Land Cruiser, that failed to do the job and sunk, meaning both vehicles had to be pulled out of the muck and rescued. It can get really bad on this side of the land, especially during the winter months. Of course, this side of the land has been less inhabitable and over time usage will solidly impact the soil to the point of it not being so soft, but we still think spring water too easily seeps to the top of this area, creating major problems with large equipment.

2. The other area of the acreage, the other side is where city water lines are close by, after our having them run 600 feet to the corner of our property. No small feat or cost. This area of acreage has land that is much firmer, has been made more solid by more frequent usage and has a higher clay content and the elevation is higher. It would probably be more stable for pier and beam construction. But, a new septic tank will need to be installed because the septic tank that was installed is on the other side of the land where the ground is too soft. Dang. However, the problem with installing a septic tank really isn't a problem with the skills of my family. In fact, my dad can rent heavy equipment (he's even licensed on most all large industrial equipment and is a certified trainer to license others) and my dad can do the work to install a septic rather quickly. And guess what his day job title happens to be? Plumber. I won't even say where he works as a plumber...let's just say some of the meanest segments of society live where he works. I won't even go into the part about how he would rather deal with the permanent residents than with the stiff suits in that place...to each his own. You'd have to know my father better to understand that capacity.

That's my dad with my oldest niece, Phoebe.

At 67 years of age, my dad tries to escape the do-it-yourself variety of work, but he's still willing and able to pull duty when it's really needed. He's been a mechanic, a master welder, and now, in his retirement years, in his 60's, he decided to earn his plumbing certification. Isn't that something?

He's from old school work ethic. It doesn't matter what you do, as long as you're doing something.

There's my brother in the photo below...he's Mr. Systems Analyst Director. The Geek with tattoos. He's lovable. He's definitely partly my mother, geek and part my father, rough and tough.

Except, my father was truly tough. So tough he never felt the need to put one tat on his body. He always said he didn't need ink to speak for him. He could do it quite well with his fists. And he did.

Have I mentioned that my dad was a rough-neck? We live in refinery land outside of Houston, a man's-man kind of industry. It's softened throughout the years, but is still a rugged world today. After we came back from Europe to be closer to my dad as he worked and lived on an off-shore oil rig in the North Sea, we came back to America to live the life of being around hardened refinery workers. In fact, Urban Cowboys was partly filmed in the town I grew up in with scenes from refineries my dad and other family members worked at...it was pretty accurate.

And yes, I've danced at Mickey Gilleys, the very dance floor where John Travolta strutted his stuff. At 14 years of age. I danced happily with a handsome cowboy until my mother suddenly appeared, caused a horrible scene, and literally dragged me off the dance floor. Oh, such good memories. It was the best trouble I ever got into!

My brother "Bubba" and my dad, "R.D."

As for the move to the acreage, my dad actually has land near my acreage and so does my brother. Looks like we all love The Piney Woods of Texas, especially the part that runs into the Big Thicket. It's in our blood. My brother's land is even more rural than my own. It's land he inherited from my folks, land we grew up on when we were kids. Sometimes, the creek would wash out the road and we couldn't access our property for a long time. And we often felt like we had to keep ducking our heads because our land abutted a hunting lease. Fabulous!

And who said we kids didn't grow up roughing it?

If you've lived near an official hunting lease, but not as part of the hunting teams, you understand "roughing it."

We had no running water or plumbing or any electricity. Our time in woods was spent in glorious freedom. Well, my brother and I loved it, but our little sister was never quite into roughing it that deeply. She's a nature-loving girl and will even be the best camper in the park, but don't put her in a wilderness setting with too many wild animals because she loves Bambi very much.

Me, if I get too scared, I'm shooting in the direction of Bambi. My sister, she's going to be rushing Bambi to the closest vet in town.

Anyway, the land with its two sides is so much like regular life. Which side do you pick? Each one has its pros and cons. This is the hardest part of the decision process for me. Each side is equally beautiful, but firmer ground is probably the winning side. Building a pier and beam house a few feet off the ground with a couple feet extra in the air probably wouldn't be a bad idea. Just in case. After all, we do have a creek nearby.

My dad with my girls.

Speaking of "roughing it," that's what I'm doing tonight as I am chewing my fingernails (not really) in worry about my daughters and their friends having a weekend jaunt which means P-A-R-T-Y since it's my oldest daughter's last weekend to be single. Next weekend, she'll be married and on her way to Europe for a great honeymoon.

We all know what that means --- it means all partying to life comes to an abrupt halt. Ha Ha, only kidding. Well, sort of kidding. Marriage does mean that you're building a life together and that means you're building more responsibility into your joint creation. It's a good kind of building...productive and meaningful.

As for things productive and meaningful, things are calming down over here on my own homefront. Therapy can do that for a person. The cost-couch has its benefits, don't knock it. The stress of the pending wedding has been intense. In my own home, the ugly threats of divorce that began as a manipulative tool and spread to both sides sputtering words of divorce and the willingness to fulfill the definition has come to an agreed upon truce, for the time being. I don't know what the future has in store, but I take it day by day. There's still a long way to go, but the past few months has made me into a much different person. My personal edges are edgier, but my wider boundaries are more blurred. Does that make sense?

At any rate, my dream for Heather is for her to have a Fairy Tale marriage, but I know that's a dream. So, my realistic hope for Heather is that she live a life full of meaning, not perfection. I hope she accepts herself, even when she is not perfect. Heck, she's so darn perfect in my eyes that she could be smeared in cow poo and still smell like a rose to me. She's my gal, my first-born. As for Fairy Tale marriages, I've learned that those don't exist and the more reality-based you can be when entering into marriage, the better off you both will feel when you let each other down. And I wonder, Why in the heck didn't our generation have "Fairy Tales" more like "Tangled?" If you've not seen it...see it. I don't care how old you are. It's the REALISTIC Fairy Tale that was long overdue.

Maybe women will one day quit filing for divorce twice as often as men...once they get rid of the "Once upon a time" mentality that prompted them to get married in the first place. Yep, I love "Tangled."

Love itself is tangled. Relationships are tangled. Life is tangled. It's hard to let someone down when you had wanted to do the opposite. It's also hard to be let down when you are the one with higher expectations. The most I can hope for my daughter is that she gets in a marriage that puts kindness as a priority because once the insults and threats begin, it's downhill from there and so very hard to climb back up to the top...one little slip can also undo a lot of progress. It's best to not let yourself fall.

I hope she will be in a marriage that remembers that each partner is highly responsible for their own actions because each action will definitely rub off on their partner, you better make sure it's a good rubbing and not a bad rub. I would hope that she will find that love is more than a word; it's a word that is useless unless you put action behind it to prove you mean it, never assuming the other person just "knows" you love them.

And most of all, in marriage, communication is THE key to success. Without effective communication, there is not a relationship, and this means no marriage, except on paper. Heck, even a baby can quickly learn to communicate...there's absolutely no excuse whatsoever for a grown adult to not have the ability to communicate, lovingly. Any intelligent person with an ounce of rationality will understand these basic concepts and make efforts toward beneficial communication to help create a decent marriage.

And if it doesn't work, let's all agree right now...it's HIS fault. Doesn't that seem reasonable?

So, nail biting urge aside, even though we all know I will never bite my nails because that would include germs, I am thinking of all the wild gals tonight who are hoping this one last singlehood weekend will be lasting enough to carry the bride-to-be into an eternity of being united with that one special person. However, when that one special person is faithful and loyal and loving, it won't actually feel like eternity, the singlehood will be a glad thing of the past.

Don't get me wrong, even in the best of marriages, there might be spurts when it feels like torture, then there will be phases of bliss, then back to being on the racks and being stretched to your limits...marriage is a state of alternating feelings that cannot be mistaken for something to be worthy of quick action, unless there is physical abuse, in that case, let him get in a good slug, then get out the shotgun honey...especially if you live in Texas!

I wonder, do all Texas mothers give their daughters this kind of advice? My advice from my grandmother was, "Just remember, there's this little word called 'divorce' and if he's bad to you, use the word."

I didn't listen to her.

Yes, I'm serious though, that was the advice I got from my grandmother. The reason I didn't listen? Well, it's because she didn't hesitate to use the word for herself, several times. She's the Elizabeth Taylor of my family. But, she's one happy woman.

My mother told me to always wait a year from the moment of feeling the need to respond or to put an action into action. Wait a year. Don't make any major decisions in a moment of pain, wait a year. Her premise is that things are always different in a year. We should never make any long-term decisions within one year of a life-changing event. Wow, she was right! I guess she saw her mother, the Elizabeth Taylor in our family, not heed this advice which led to two wedding and two divorces to the same man. Maybe "wait a year" advice is solid.

Funny thing is...I look back on some years and wish I would have gone into rapid response and taken my grandmother's advice. Other years, I was glad to have made the choice to keep going because it paid off.

I guess there should be some middle ground between the two women who gave me advice. Maybe I am living the middle ground.

There's no telling all the advice that's being given tonight for the start of the bachelorette party weekend extravaganza. I can only imagine. There's no telling how this generation handles such things! I decided to not attend my daughter's bachelorette party because I'm still dealing with traumatic memories of my mother and her best-friend attending mine...my mother's best-friend waving those dollar bills for the next muscle-bound goon to strut his stuff over and smack a romance novel kiss on her outreached lips as the rest of us watched in horror. Well, as I watched in horror. Looking back, my mother and her best-friend were only 36 years old! But, those kisses on the woman I saw as a mother-figure had indeed been painful to watch. Needless to say, I was a budding germ-freak back then and there was no way in hell any of those incredible hunks with their massive germs would get anywhere close to me! Shudder!

Truthfully, the mental images I had of my mother's best-friend were searing to my brain...especially as around 3:00 that morning, as we dropped her off at her house that was around the corner from my mom's house...knowing she was going inside that house as her three little boys slept; she'd head straight to her husband, as she promised us with slurred speech, so that she could be the one to waltz in drunk and after having a good-time of her own, for once. I wonder if he ever knew that he was getting a purposely sloppy goodnight kiss from his wife that included a bit of Tom, Dick, Harry, Steve, George, Tim, Ron and Kyle?

On that night, I felt inducted into the secret world of women and their revengeful side. 

To be fair, my mother's best-friend was married and is still married to the biggest louse on the planet. After the years passed and my own knowledge of marriage increased, I felt less guilty about knowing all she did that night. I realized that her sharing the "LaBare" germs with her unfaithful husband had been in revenge for all that he had brought home to her through the year. Heck, that night was probably a great memory that gave her the fuel to keep going another 15 years. More power to her!

See? I am definitely traumatized. No, my mother did nothing inappropriate. Her and I sat there and laughed so hard together as our collective friends put those dollars to work for them. It was scandalous. It was always a shared moment with my mother that was weird, but hysterical. Thank God my mother didn't feel the need to join her friend in the kissing frenzy. But, I must say, she knew her best-friend was married to the hairiest, flea infested dog around town and my mom sure didn't mind funding her best-friend's little night out to relieve the powder keg she'd been keeping under wraps for too long. Mom kept those dollar bills handy throughout the night and the trauma went on for hours. But, I must say, it is the most humorous trauma I'll probably ever get to experience. Little Miss Hospital Administrator Gone Wild is a moment I'll always remember.

Oh yeah, bachelorette party of 2012...forgetting my traumatic images of the past, I hope that all the bridesmaids are together at their ritzy hotel and living it up with the bride-to-be, in a safe manner, without any mothers or best-friends of mothers to interfere with their own wild memories. Most of all, I hope there will be no spreading of germs. Seeing as Heather has her biology degree from Texas A&M, she takes after her mother. She's rather composed when it comes to the sharing of germs and is capable of turning them away politely. But, she'll dance! Just don't touch, keep your dancing germs to yourself!

Besides, me and bachorlette party memories do not mix well. Since my own bachelorette party at 18 years of age, I've remained rather innocent throughout my life-time, and I like it that way. My one time at LaBare was enough to last a life-time. Since then, I became wise and have passed up many bachelorette parties. Innocence suits me just fine. I'm all for less germs. Someone else can party with the germs while I sit in my granny chair reading a good book, a Lysol can nearby, and probably being happier as I'm snuggled and content. At least my idea of a fun night involves less slobber. Unless Howdy the Aussie is nearby and leaning his head on my knee while giving me that pathetic look that says, "Throw me the ball woman."

Then, the slobber increases with each new toss of the ball. But, I can deal with it.

Back on track, again...My husband and I will be driving to the Dallas area to be with our daughter, to help her prepare to get married, this coming week. My neighbors are ready to pull house duty. And there's a weirdness to this entire ordeal of seeing my daughter prepare to get married because it's been a bittersweet time in my own life, but one that has helped me find myself again. It's been worth it. The claws are retracted...both sides of the fence have come to a truce here at the house and it's been nice. The White Flag waving in the air is sometimes nice to see.

However, it is very clear that I am different and will never be the same person I had been a few months ago. I don't see things the same any longer. These days, I have more power and more knowledge and more legal advice to bolster my confidence, I have more than I had before. I have more inner strength. It can't be reversed. I like myself better than before.

I've learned that it is okay to raise a little hell sometimes because maybe that's what will make someone better appreciate the good times. Perhaps I've been too passive and too much into the role of having to accept hell-raising. The past few months, I've tried it on for size...I've dished it out more than I have our entire marriage and I can tell you that it probably doesn't feel as good to receive it as it does to dish it out. So, instead of me waiting for the next hell raising session to hit me like a brick, I've learned that perhaps it's time to do some of it on my own...on the days I leave my granny chair. I've figured out that I can put my passive side to the curb and give a little reminder that I'm full of fire...my dad hasn't spent years referring to me as a "firecracker" for nothing. Still, my nature is to be laid-back, calm and peaceful. That's why I have, over the past few months, discovered an appropriate outlet and reward for my many moments alone that gave me ample time to ponder my life, outlook and direction.

Part of my lessons has been that I am more determined than ever to get to a point to where I can continue to take regular road trips and vacations, by myself. This is important for me. My desire to go off alone for trips is not a punishment for someone's bad behavior...it's a REWARD for myself and for all that I have endured.

Let me put it very clearly and to the point...the point that another person will probably not be able to understand...So often through life, I've gone through the worst of times, by myself. Often, I've been left to confront hard things on my own while another was off fulfilling recreational desires. Therefore, going on great trips and doing exciting things by myself is a way for me to allow myself the permission to experience the BEST life has to offer. The power has tipped back into my hand. I've learned that I too can do things on my own terms and if someone doesn't like it, well, that's really too bad because it's what I need to do for me.

As the sentence always goes, "I know you probably can't understand...I have to do this for me..." and such, but oh I do understand., very much so. Probably, YOU don't understand what I need to do and about how I must start getting away on a regular basis. But, let's see if that understanding is two-way or not. Learning to do hard stuff on my own has been a challenge, learning to do fun stuff on my own will be entirely different. Frankly, I'm very excited.

So, not only was I left alone to handle some of the hardest moments imaginable, moments that tested my ability to meet highly stressful challenges without support. Those times alone have added layers to my character, I'm harder to reach and I will now choose to be alone, at times I decide upon. so that I may experience some of the best that life has to offer. I can guarantee you that I will savor those moments, alone, or perhaps with a friend. In my eyes, I've got a lot of time in on the clock that was spent waiting around and doing dirty work by myself while another played and practiced avoidance. Sometimes, the mechanics is what we are left with and the rest has to be found elsewhere. Regardless, I have earned the right to go out and explore a bit of the world without giving an explanation or a copy of my itinerary. I've learned that the only person who is concerned about getting me out of this house and into the world for some great moments, is me. And that's exactly what I am doing, experiencing more of life first-hand, and on my own terms.

So much has changed for me...on paper, in my heart, in my mind and in my soul. It's a sense of power and of ownership that is indescribable. I might have a day when I don't feel like driving far, but I can still drive myself to a cruise port. I can drag along my suitcase on wheels and go places I've only dreamed of seeing, even if it's only one hour away or 1,000 miles away. I can drive myself to the airport or train depot. I can go places and thrive in the experience. That is the big change that has been created within me from all this time I've spent by myself. I've learned to like it. There's power in sharing, but there's also power in being alone and being able to do it well. I'll like it even better when I'm on the road and headed to a new destination I've never seen as the music blares and the wind blows through my hair.

Presently, all I can do is take it day by day while planning my next trip and my next lovely time at being alone, yet not lonely.

And today, even though my body hurts...it's been a good day. I'm so happy for the kids and hoping they will be safe in their celebrations.

As for my daughter, she is about to leap head-first in an agreement called, "marriage." I know all about that agreement. I know the good side of it and the bad side. After 26 years of it, I have to know a little about it to get this far. And I say, "It ain't easy baby." Some days will be easier than others.

But, I hope my daughters will struggle to keep up with the one important part of life that cannot be given to them...their own sense of self, their personal independence, and the willingness to fight and to stand up for yourself as much as you fight for the ones you love.

And when you go through those phases where you don't feel very loving, there is still a commitment to remember. It's too easy to forget that part, but it's the entire reason for taking vows, to make a commitment and to share what life brings, together and sometimes for what it brings when you are electing to be apart. For those newly wed, I recommend strongly that you remember to share in the good and the bad. Don't quit sharing because the alternative might become your partner's pleasing alternative.

I once told my father, during a heart-to-heart, as he was experiencing a messy mid-life crisis, "You better think carefully about leaving mom because you probably don't want her to find out how truly happy she can be without you."

He got it. Think about it because some people don't think about it until it's too late. I'm one of those people who have discovered the happy side of being alone. I almost want to give thanks for the lesson because it's strengthened me. However, through better or through worse...I'm here to say, you can still be yourself and see the beauty in life, even if in the midst of the worst. Hopefully, with my Fairy Tale eyes in place, for them, it will mostly be for the better! In the end, it will be what you make of it.

I hope the girls are savoring this last weekend before Heather says, "I do." May their memories be beautiful and last a lifetime! At least they are not having to see Rosemary wave dollar bills toward her puckered mouth this weekend. Thank you Lord!

# 354 - Strange Movie Experience

I'm one of those odd people who love foreign films. Since I was able to read, I've enjoyed watching them, especially because I'm forced to pay close attention to the screen so I can know what is happening.

A downside to this past-time is that foreign films come with a bit of frustration stemming from the viewer's inability to focus on the actual film itself because they are too busy reading the words, unless the language is not actually foreign to the one watching. Still, it's a great challenge, and I love it.

I guess foreign film watching brings on a case of "crazy eyes" that are darting furiously from words to scenes being displayed. It's an eyeball work-out I tell you!

Anyway, the foreign film of my choice this week happened to have been aired by Turner Classic Movies, as usual, although Netflix is building quite a nice selection of foreign films for streaming straight to your television.

Yes, it's odd that we're able to watch classics that are sometimes around 70 years old, such as the one I watched today, and to view them with the aid of high-technology.

Interestingly, today I noticed a particular TCM movie from 1943 saved on my DVR, so I took the time to watch it. I felt yucky, so it was a good day for me to sit with crazy eyes all over the screen and with my handy remote that allows for pausing and rewinding.

The film? Well, this is the interesting part. The TCM gentleman who comes out to give us our history lesson before the movie airs was thorough in discussing details of the time-period for the release of this film. His synopsis gave some great insight into this film I was about to spend 1 hour and 33 minutes of my life watching. I am passing on what he says in his opening of this German movie titled, "Titanic."

No, this is not the "Titanic" that we know of today, nor is the old-fashioned film versions filmed in English. The "Titanic" I watched today was a version produced during World War II by Germans demonstrating their "warped perspective" of events surrounding the Titanic disaster. At this time, in Germany, all films were under the control and compulsion of The Nazi Party, Ministry of Enlightenment and Propaganda.

Hmmm...that sure sounds for fascinating movie-making boundaries.

The German control of this film has English passengers clearly behaving as spoiled rich brats while the few Germans aboard are "poor and hard-working" and ethically bound people. The Germans contend in this movie, that the Germans could have averted this massive maritime disaster, if only the greedy English had been wise enough to listen.

Yes, everyone knows that greed starts on English soil and ends on German soil.

Wow! If only the rich English would have listened to German reasoning! It's great that the Nazi Party never got the chance to attempt to spread their mangled message that the luxury liner Titanic went down because power had been in the wrong hands, not German hands.

They didn't get the chance because the film would never be shown to the public of that time. More on that later.

The shipliner president is telling the captain that he'll get a personal
bonus of $1,000 per hour for every hour prior to the hour of
expected arrival. We know the Titanic's demise is hugely due
to their desire to win a record-setting travel acknowledgement,
 but the kicker is that this movie has Germans
as the only people on board who were not shallow and greedy.

It's interesting that the Nazi party ordered the German's in the movie to be "extremely noble." Even more comical, the only German crew member on board the Titanic in this production is seen as the only crew member on board is the "righteous hero."

Here is the the only German crew member on board the Titanic who was
willing to do everything possible, with a grave sense of duty, in an attempt
to avoid an ice-berg disaster. In the end, he is noble and refuses to
get onto a lifeboat since they were supposed to be only for
women and children; however, he just happens to find an abandoned
child in a cabin...he uses heroic strength to climb over the sinking ship
with the child in his arms, then he swims in freezing waters with
this little girl to a life-boat and both are miraculously
rescued. Of course, he's the star witness at the trial. If we were
to believe the Nazi Party, we would think this one German man
desperately did everything he could to get the captain to avoid the
ice-berg disaster; this German man dared to not mingle pleasure
with duty because of his staunch focus upon his station and obligation
as a crew member; he rescues a child which is his ticket to get on
a life-boat as others in the water try to get into the life-boat,
but are pushed back into their icy grave; and this one German
crew member  even does his part at trial to take down
corporate greed by testifying in court.

I find all of this whacky...the Nazi Party with Hitler's fanciful ideals of popularity and adoration is evident in his using his demented power to create such twisted accounts. Where was that heroic behavior as the Jewish people were being extinguished?

I suppose Hitler never realized that he had become Germany's ice-berg of disgusting proportions, causing millions to suffer and either die or be scarred for life, with following generations to still feel the ache from his disgusting existence.

Just watching this movie made me think of how many of us have family members who had been World War II veterans. How many of us have family that had been directly impacted because of Hitler. My husband's grandfather was killed because of WWII, in a ship, on the way home from the war...it hit a mine. My grandfather came back battle wounded in mind and body, his three Purple Hearts of no consolation as he slowly lost his senses due to his brother being killed by the war and due to the alcohol addiction that began in earnest to numb his physical and emotional pain.

So, I hope you can understand my passion about these things. You might share them as well, for your own reasons.

As for this movie that was created for Nazi propaganda, even more fascinating is that the original director of this film made some unwise comments about the German Navy to the screenwriter of this piece. Not so smart. The screenwriter happened to be a Nazi Party Loyalist. You know meant for that producer? Yes, he was soon arrested by the Gestapo, then suddenly ended up dead in his cell from reportedly committing suicide ---- which most people of the time knew that such an ending was not likely when he was in the middle of producing film. Who could dispute the death? At that time, speaking out was a deadly serious affair.

The next producer finished the film and was able to keep himself alive, but I imagine the position held a significant amount of pressure.

A young German couple meeting and falling in love on the Titanic.
Of course, they are good-hearted and are both workers on the ship, not
English aristocracy or of a spoiled nature. Certainly, it's difficult to
imagine these actors having a personal life that included being
in agreement that certain people should be killed because
of one crazy man's narrow-minded thinking. Indeed, I
believe they had to be Nazi Party Loyalists in order to be
involved with this film. Can you imagine being recruited to
act in this film while being fearful of the Nazi Party?

It seems to be poetic justice that the film itself was not to be any part of the Nazi's self-awarded glory because the regime's Minister of Propaganda decided not to release the film, likely due to the chaos and panic of the country in real life from Allied Forces air-raids. Because the Nazi party had wasted their time with frivolous activities, such as with this movie production during a time when their own country was being bombed and greatly suffering, the film was locked away and all prints were lost, for years.

After the movie, the narrator for TCM closes by saying that this perspective of the Titanic disaster is "unique but flawed" and so I felt it important to watch the movie.

Another suffering and poor German couple aboard the Titanic.
They don't even fight to get on a life-boat, but their goodness is
rewarded by seemingly Divine Intervention. Sweet little Nazi's.

Of course, a few actors in the film came mightily close to having the Hitler mustache and famous Hitler rigid stance that appears to be nothing more than a mouth in motion, but these Hilter-ish features were obviously tamed because the actors were pretending to be "English."

On a positive note, there did seem to be some good acting and as any film from the 1940's would display, the clothes were gorgeous...men dressed impeccably and women's hair styles were elaborate. Plus, everyone smoked.

There was even a rather seductive dancing scene performed in the poor-man's portion of the ship below and the dancer had everyone in the audience, both men and women, eventually clapping for her tantalizing movements. While dancing, she artfully removes her jacket and continues her jiggles and wiggles while wearing a thin white blouse. Actually, I was a bit shocked. I can only imagine how long the Nazi Party needed to dedicate to that particular scene. I can hear the desperate, entitled men in Hitler's circle yelling, "One more time!" I would bet that many of the men in that scene were party loyalists being rewarded for some kind of dictatorship brown-nosing.

Sorry, I don't have pictures of that part of the movie! But, I will say that the dancer was talented and I'm not being sarcastic. She did move gracefully and could pull in an audience, a lighter side to this movie.

Sybille Schmitz played an aristocrat and wealthy Baltic woman called "Sigrid." The next three photos are of her and come from shots I took from the movie itself so you can see a bit of what I'm talking about in this post.

She was a famous German star in the 1930's, but after the war, her well-known ties to powerful Nazi's proved to be her undoing and caused a dramatic fall from fame, from which she did not bounce back.

She ended up committing suicide in 1955, at the age of 45, after living a life marked by alcohol and drug abuse. Of course, as I sit here at 44 years of age in the year 2012, I realize that to be a 45 year old woman in 1955 meant your life as an actress was essentially over...many felt that normal life had little left in front of it at that time. I don't believe the life-span was much more than around the 60's during this time. So young, yet so used up.

Sybille Schmitz in one of the film's best scenes, as she's being lowered into
a life-boat while watching the sight of her beloved German crew
member disappear. Of course, he would be the hero swimming out to
join her after he rescued a little girl from going down with the ship.
But, this scene was touching. It's difficult to imagine this
talented woman, like so many others, being sucked into Nazi Party's
bloated schemes. I don't think she met Hitler's physical ideal, yet she
was one of the movie stars of their time.

Worse yet, the TCM narrator follows the move with more doom and gloom associated with war-time events surrounding this film. The luxury liner used to film this German produced movie came to its own "tragic end," representing the horrors of war. This ship, in 1945, was "appropriated" to deliver rescued prisoners of war and to take them to freedom. However, Allied Forces mistakenly bombed the ship in a historical case of "Friendly Fire", causing the ship to sink. Consequently, many of the rescued prisoners of war were killed in the bombing and sinking of the ship. Most of the survivors who fought to make it from the bombed ship to the beach were then killed by Nazi soldiers who were fighting until the last minute of the war.

Talk about sinking...my heart sunk at hearing this bit of history, and I can't help but wonder what happened to the pilot and upper rank that had been responsible for accidentally bombing this luxury liner that had been re-purposed for a rescue mission? Yes, there's always more to the story.

I feel as if this movie is, in part, a testament to the ship that tried to carry so many prisoners of war to freedom, but like the Titanic, they were doomed. For some reason, their passage to freedom was short-lived and cruelly cut short by the horrors of war.

I found the story around the making of this film to be more interesting than anything else. From the producer who was killed in a way that would be socially acceptable in the guise of suicide following him ticking off a Nazi Party Loyalist; to the famous actress who made her way to stardom with the aid of the Nazi party which would also lead to her miserable failings, and her death; and then to the luxury liner used by the Nazi's as a film set in the movie to the ship being transformed into an integral part of the opponent's failed effort to rescue POW's...all of it is sad, yet important to know.

More than anything, I feel such sadness for the people who thought that ship would be their voyage to freedom. I feel sad for the people who thought they were traveling to America aboard the real Titanic and I feel such tragic remorse for the people who believed the ship used as Titanic's set felt they were being given another chance to be free, yet nothing went right in the the end for either ship.



 

I cannot say whether this version of Titanic is good or bad because it is so far-fetched from reality, aside from the few facts about the ship hitting an ice-berg. I cannot say that all rich people on board were greedy, heartless bastards, neither can I say that all passengers below were hard-working decent people who never did wrong. But, one thing I can say with certainty is that the movie being locked away for a long time was probably a good idea. Perhaps it is only the start of my generation that can even stomach watching a movie created by German propaganda.

 

But, I hope the movie brings glory to those poor souls who nearly obtained their freedom while floating aboard this ship that had been used for warped purposes...the twisted triumph had to have been sweet while it lasted.

 

Most of all, I hope those final passengers finally saw their eternal freedom lifting them to the Heavens, even as the bombed ship sank into dark depths.

 



# 353 - Photo Bomb!

Browsing through on-line news stories have given me reason to laugh with tremendous force, especially after seeing this photo posted in a story by Yahoo online news.

I have stared at the photo a few times and it always makes me go into a fit of laughter! If you'll notice, the noses of each gal is puckered out of fear!

It's a good thing they are in the water so we can't see them peeing in their pants...or bikinis!

Who wouldn't want to have such fun on a vacation? The price of terror is worth it for the rest of us to probably have more fun than these girls had at the moment this photo was clicked!

Take a good look. Have a great laugh at the stingray behind them. Don't we all love being so close to such creatures?

Hope your week has started off with a hearty laugh or two!

# 352 - C. diff Danger - Protect Yourself

I am a writer, a blogger, a simple woman. What is it that has been said of blogging? That it is the graffiti of writing? Well, I've probably put out some graffiti in this attempt at what I call "Reality Writing," and my opinions are personal opinions, but my sharing is always a heartfelt effort mingled with a desire to be informative. This week, I have been reading some of Peter Eisler's writings. He is an investigative journalist with USA TODAY, and the recognition he receives for his work is for good reason.

I look forward to reading more of his work, even if it makes my skin crawl...in a good way. I often have to pause while reading his work because each sentence is a powerpunch to the brain...it has to be absorbed with a chill-wiggle before I proceed to the next sentence. You can bet that I'll be following his reports, and I suggest you do the same.

I'm passing this particular topic along because having a broad international readership provides a great spider-web opportunity to help spread information. One little thread of knowledge leads to another, around and round it goes.

Since many support boards and groups read this blog, I am hoping you can do your part to spread the word about this bacteria I have just learned about in one of Peter Eisler's articles. It's called, "C. diff" which is short for Clostridium difficile. This bacteria could be a danger to any of us, especially those of us with known chronic medical conditions. Understanding C. diff might be vital for each of us to have an added edge to avoid this bacteria and the complications it could invite into our body. I say, face the eye-popping truth revealed in the article that I am providing via an attached link. As for me, I cannot turn my back on potentially life-saving research; I must pass it along.

Since I have had my fair share of hospitalizations and have another one fast approaching in November, the information I've recently read on a hardy bacteria called "C. diff" has apparently awakened my brain to new dangers at many different kinds of medical facilities. Yet, it seems that many of these medical facilities do not want to fully address. C. diff as a sinister bacteria making an impact upon their controlled environments. It appears that many medical facilities are learning that C. diff is not so easy to shoo away with the squirt of standard anti-bacterial cleanser.

In Peter Eisler's article, he provides in-depth research to bring awareness about the seriousness of bacterial enemies, such as C. diff, and their wiliness to escape destruction. While reading Mr. Eisler's article, I could only imagine this bacteria to be the foundation for horror sci-fi movies, its ability to cling to the cracks and crannies of hospital equipment and beyond is terrifying. The way this bacteria manifests itself in the human body is no less unthinkable except that is is thinkable. C. diff exists and the realities of it being in a hospital near you is likely.

This bacteria has proven to have deadly consequences. Just as we carefully strive to be dutiful in locking our doors at night to protect ourselves and our families, it would be wise to know what is on the other side of that locked door. And who hasn't had to made an occasional trip to some kind of medical facility? Sooner or later, most of us have to make that trip, dreaded or not. Are you thinking that you are safe because of that hand-sanitizer you carry around? Think again. Do you believe all hospital-strength cleaners and hospital-strength hand-sanitizers installed every 3-5 feet will be your first-line of defense against this bacteria? Think again.

That mop that the maintenance crew is swiping down the hall might not be doing anything but tickling this bacteria.

For me, Peter Eisler had me thinking, first and foremost, about the disinfectants and cleaners used by many hospitals...once you learn about C. diff bacteria, it is quite amazing to discover many hospital disinfectants currently used are not able to kill this bacteria. Changes in cleaners is a simple administrative decision that could be the start in saving lives. However, for a change to occur, acknowledgement of a problem must first be admitted. Unfortunately, hospitals are like the rest of society after a problem is discovered...too many think that the problem won't hit their doorstep, so the foot-dragging toward change often results in disaster.

More than anything, Peter's investigative reporting demonstrates a direct link between awareness and resulting action.

I suppose there will be many hospitals who will avoid Mr. Eisler's investigative works as if it were the plague itself. Facing it might mean accountability. His article embraces hard-hitting information which would demand an end to blind-bliss that creates lethal ignorance. However, one nurse, one patient, one resident in town can do their part to pass along Mr. Eisler's article to promote change. If questions aren't asked, everyone keeps their mouth shut, cover-ups continue and denials remain in place.

Life has continual lessons, avoiding a problem or pretending it doesn't exist won't work. Only by educating ourselves, confronting the issue and following through with an evolving plan can the problem be erased or minimized.

And the C. diff problem is ALL of our problem because bacteria is not a selective enemy, especially when you look around and believe a medical facility appears sparkly clean. It's hard to imagine that deadly bacteria can still be hiding in the midst of a sterile environment, but C. diff proves that to be the case.

However, I urge my blog readers to digest this informative article while remembering that bacteria knows no boundaries, bacteria does not require a passport to travel. This bacteria is likely to impact whatever country you reside in, and it would be prudent to at least be aware so you can question your hospital about their protocol regarding this bacteria, especially if you are a health care worker.

Regardless, remember that most hospitals are run the same as large corporations with liability as their main concern, so the downplay of C. diff statistics is often conveniently shifted with pass-the-buck techniques in an attempt to keep the bacterial "source unknown" and this gives the excuse for patient stats linked to such bacteria the lack of a papertrail. Why would a hospital want to test their patients for C. diff and take accountability for their contamination when a patient may have just been transferred from another facility already infected? If the already-infected patient is counted as testing positive for such a bacteria as C. diff, then the hospital that did not originally cause the infection might be held to the fire. Of course, this blame game comes with a high price, often paid in full by unsuspecting patients who will become infected because of this contagious bacteria being swept under the rug, so to speak. Just remember, this bacteria will happily live under the rug, it can't be swept away so easily.

Blaming another source as a possible excuse for a patient being exposed to C. diff is an obvious ploy to keep distasteful record-keeping from sticking to name of a medical facility. However, this is one problem that proves that denial is not a viable option. C. diff causes deaths that are hard to explain.

Would it really matter where the original source of contamination came from if all medical facilities were required to keep their own records to reflect each and every patient that has tested positive for such bacteria infections? Perhaps strict record-keeping protocol would lead to a better understanding of which facilities have the bacteria invasion under control and which ones need to get a handle on such serious problems.

Peter has shown that some hospitals do indeed record each and every patient diagnosed with such bacterial infections, regardless of the possible original source of contamination...simply keeping record of the number of infected individuals in their facility is giving power to the movement toward controlling contamination. It is refreshing to see some hospitals at least taking ownership for patient stats regarding this bacteria and others, while still acknowledging that the original exposure to the bacteria might have come from another facility.

Read the article and let me know what you think. I know some of you prefer to email, but just know that I am often slow to open my emails. I am very confident that Peter Eisler's work will make a positive difference in the world because his writing has brought focus to a bacteria that is apparently not as insignificant as liability-protecting entities would have us believe.

Title:	Far more could be done to stop the deadly bacteria C. diff
Author:	By Peter Eisler, USA TODAY
Publication:	USA TODAY
Publisher:	USA TODAY
Date:	Aug 15, 2012

Learn more about C. diff, spread the word, click on the link below and arm yourself with the power of knowledge.

http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/news/health/story/2012-08-16/deadly-bacteria-hospital-infections/57079514/1

# 351 - Paying Respects

This past weekend, I had the saddest day that I've had in a long time.

A sweet gal in her mid-thirties that had been such a joyful part of my family's world died in a tragic fire that made Houston's prime-time news.

Here is Carrie's apartment - after the roaring fire had been battled.

We all waited and waited, then the memorial was finally allowed to take place this past weekend at a local church. Carrie Jordan died because of that fire. Over the past few years, we had lost touch with Carrie. She's in the picture below, at my house, she's standing in white pants next to her date at the time. My sister is in the black shirt. Those two gals shared many laughs and tears together throughout the years.

I don't know if you can see by this picture, but Carrie had the most awesome smile you'd ever witness. She had a true smile decorated with the sweetest dimples!

Around 2004, my mother had been in a terrible car accident and needed surgery that would require her to live in a rehabilitation hospital for about six weeks. All of us rallied around my mother to help her recovery, but Carrie was having problems of her own, so she moved in with my parents and helped my mother, so unselfishly. Not only did she help my mother, she did it with love.

I'll always remember her generosity and her capacity to share such kindness.

Most devastating about this entire situation that took Carrie's life is that she'd just come home to her apartment in Houston with her newborn baby boy. Even though the fire ended up taking Carrie's life, her son lived and is healthy today.

There's no doubt that I mourn the loss of this beautiful, young woman and I mourn the fact that her son will never know his mother. I don't think they had time to take any pictures of them together other than the one immediately after his birth. There just wasn't time.

So, this past Sunday, my dad came to my house to pick me up and we drove to my sister's house to pick her up so we could all drive together to attend the memorial. Most of all, we wanted to support my Sissy as Carrie was really her friend. We all had our own relationships with Carrie, but Robin had a long friendship with her and so many regrets can be made over the loss of the friendship through the years, but that's how life goes. We constantly evolve.

Waiting for Robin to wrap up last minute things before leaving, my dad took this opportunity to smoke a cigarette as I sat in the car taking pictures of everything around me, including me!

Finally, Robin emerges from the depths of her beautiful shelter and we are all on our way to pay our respects to Carrie.

In the book of memories left for everyone to write in it...I wrote about Carrie being such a sweetheart and about how she had the willingness to help others in need.

Most of all, we've been graced by her smile...the smile that cannot be forgotten.

# 349 - Dressing Room Fun!

Okay, I am bringing everyone along for my shopping trip to find a Mother-of-the-Bride dress for my daughter's wedding coming up on October 13th.

Normally, I am one of those women who dresses with great purpose, to hide my full shape. I am definitely full-figured, some parts are fuller than others, so it makes it a challenge for me to try on clothes.

My daughters and my sister are usually my helpers in a dressing room. For any woman who is naturally big-busted, you can sympathize with the awful problems that come with getting a dress over the bust area. Usually, taking the dress back off is the main problem. But, the experience comes with loads of laughter.

I usually have to get a dress one size larger just to accommodate this area of my body. That stinks.

Finding a dress that doesn't look frumpy is a challenge. Finding a dress that doesn't make me look like all bust is a challenge. Then, we won't even discuss my waist line.

As a regular woman, I have multiple challenges to find the right dress.

This dress was nice, but remember that I do not have the proper undergarments to smooth everything out, such as Spanks. Yes, I will require structure assistance from such miracle support-wear.

I decided that this dress has too much of me showing for it to be proper or for me to feel comfortable wearing for a full wedding day that will end with a reception of dining and dancing.

Need Spanks --- Badly --- Body Support Revolutionized!

My sister tries to tell me that a good support bra will change the look of the dress. She does her best to demonstrate as I go into hysterics.

My Sissy says, "With a good support bra, it will look
more like THIS," and she does some heavy lifting!

Having a sister is such a huge blessing, especially while trying on dresses in a department store.

There's my Sissy peeking around from behind me!

The final answer to the brown, busty dress was, "Ah...NO."

Then, I tried on a frumpy number that showed more lumps than I would have liked to admit belonged to me. The color was too bland and it kind of hung on me like drapes from the living room window. No thanks. The pleats running down over my stomach doesn't do much for my figure. Just say NO to straight line pleats!

Here is the "Paper Bag" dress!

I will have to post more later. I did find a dress that I loved, but I've been reminded of how much fun it is to try on dresses. I have got to start doing things that will give me more chances to wear a sexy dress and to feel a little glamorous while taking a break from the chickens.

As for THE dress. I do believe I found it. Actually, I came home with it and it is the perfect "compromise" dress. It shows my full figure, but without too much exposure at the bust-line, however, it does not completely hide the ba-bam woman side of me.

I don't want to post it because I can't show a picture of me wearing it until I have it on with the right undergarments. It's a dress made with beautiful, quality fabric, it has a nice liner sewn into the dress, shoulder pads that I will be removing because God gave me a great built-in set of my own, and the dress fits perfectly. I can tell you it had a hefty price tag that made me nearly choke, but this is a dress to wear to my daughter's wedding, it's okay for it to be of more value. This event has more value in my life than most others.

The dress I selected to wear to the wedding is designed by Ralph Lauren and was purchased from Macy's. My final choice allows for sexy sophistication. I feel the dress I brought home is more appropriate for the Mother-of-the-Bride who owns a lot of cleavage. More importantly, this dress hanging in my closet with a protective covering is also a neutral color with a bit of sparkle, but it is not a stark color, this dress will help me blend in during family wedding photos, especially because the wedding attire is champagne in color.

Speaking of dresses, my sister found a sassy, saphire number that captures evening drama...it fits her personality perfectly. I will post a photo of her in that dress very soon. She had more freedom with color and style since she is the young "Aunt" and not the Mother-of-the-Bride. Her off-the-shoulder dress with sheer, flowing fabric looked stunning on her. Of course, I feel as if my sister is one of the most beautiful women I've ever known, inside and out, she could even pull off the Paper Bag dress!.

My daughter didn't want anyone to wear anything too formal looking...no long dresses and no poofy dresses. However, she does want us to look our best with elegance being the key to our appearance. I think my dress selection hit that requirement right on the head. Heather was raised as a city girl, but she also has some country roots and a current country existence that needs to be honored. Additionally, her fiance is ALL country. Well, to be fair, he's been getting a big dose of city life since he and Heather have been together; Houston has become one of their favorite places to chase fun with their friends. But, the wedding is country-themed and will include bridesmaids who are wearing cowboy boots with their dresses, and yes, Heather will be wearing cowboy boots with her wedding dress.

I am so thrilled about the wedding! October 13th is DAYS away! My countdowns that had included months and months of time for preparations have disappeared, and we're down to about three weeks before the wedding. I think it's only 19-20 days before the wedding day! Soon, the wedding will be a memory.

Since I have now been hooked on looking for that perfect dress, I just might go back to the store to buy a few of those WOW dresses to have on hand for a special evening out on the town.

# 348 - Letters & Life

At 18 years old, I left America and moved to Germany to follow my husband who was serving in the military. Brave me. I left my home-country, good old U.S. of A., to live in a place I had no knowledge about and a place that spoke a language I didn't understand.

I suddenly became an "Americana."

An 18 year old sure can be brave, especially when they don't know enough to be scared.

Oh, there is a lot of joy to be seen in youthful exuberance and the lack of being worried about time running out or to not feel the depth of each decision with the heaviness that comes with age. As you get older, each decision becomes more critical, simply because there is less time in front of you to correct a wrong mistake, there is less time for folly.

Age brings with it the reality that there is less time for a do-over. When you are young, you feel as if time is on your side and time allows for far and wide concessions. On the other hand, with age comes the freedom of being more confident about your decisions. Life brings experience and a sense of direction that is often craved in youth, but not always within grasp. Age brings a sense of security that can make you like the skin you're living in and help you to appreciate the fact that you weren't born as royalty with all the trappings of a castle. The grand things of youth seem to dim as your inner-sight is increased by experience; things that had been of little importance begin to have magnified meaning. Things such as communication.

Back then, in 1986, as I flew without a companion on an American Airlines DC-10 jetliner to another country, I was still such a kid. Even with the struggles I'd known so far, I wholeheartedly believed in focusing on the beauty and joy in life. In every dirty situation, I searched for the unsullied spot.

A world away, in a quaint European village, I shared a little place on earth with the one person I knew in the midst of strangers. I volunteered for this mysterious life experience. It wasn't what I thought I would ever do in my whole 18 years of life, but I didn't shirk from my commitment to my marriage...a marriage that had started only 28 days after I legally became an adult. The unknown, the intimidating, the unfamiliar, it didn't scare me away...I simply worked harder to understand my new surroundings and to make new friends.

This experience taught me, at a very young age, that saying goodbye to one life and hello to another isn't always easy, but it is possible and can be enjoyable, depending on your outlook. In those days, adapting without the presence of my family and friends had not been easy, especially since there weren't any cell phones and there weren't computers in every household; I think government entities were the only ones really using computers, besides, using a computer meant you better know how to type in code

While living in Germany, calling home from a phone that clicked away with a timer equaled about $6.50 per minute. A five minute conversation cost over $30.00. That was probably a day's pay for us.

I don't know if today's kids can comprehend this level of separation. Today, even if a person isn't directly communicating, they still have the ability to be kept in the loop with one glance at Facebook, Twitter, MySpace or whatever is available for a life-peek.

In those days, as I sat in a weird looking apartment, in a town I could barely spell properly, I had the choice of one radio station on the AM frequency for American news and a bit of scratchy music, this station was the "Armed Forces Network." We also had one "American" television station ran by the same. Otherwise, it was all German and might as well have been Greek.

I remember, the highlights of my television day included Sesame Street, Larry King, and eventually, Married with Children which caused a mini-riot on the military base. Since all forms of communication were still minimalistic, that left few options and little contact with the outside world.

So, from Germany, if I wanted to spend quality time with my loved one, I wrote letters. I even kept what I called a "running letter" which is several pages of notebook paper kept handy, and over a period of days, I would sit and write accounts of our meager happenings in detail. By the time of mailing, I had written just enough to push the limits of normal postage costs for one letter.

Each week, I would make a trip by myself to the post office and stand in line to post my letters. Well, we checked our APO box every day, but it was mainly my job to stand in line to mail letters. After all, I was pretty much the only one doing the communicating with folks back home.

And as I remember all the letters I'd write weekly, I would think of all the people in my life who I wanted to remain connected to through the years I'd be so far away and through the long distance that threatened to create a gaping hole between us. And I had to write separate letters for each person in our lives, these were the glory days of communicating, the days when there were no mass e-mailings to de-personalize your message.

Writing letters gave me hope. It's strange now to realize that our words to each other did not travel through cyberspace, our words literally traveled through different countries, by land, by air, and would arrive in our mail boxes intact. The words themselves took the journey we could not.

Words on paper would bring me love and cheer in the distance between us that equalled thousands of miles. The words of our hundreds of letters didn't care that we were oceans apart or on different continents, the letters made their mindless travels so that they could reach us and spring to life.

I remember getting a letter at the post office box and to never, ever be willing to open it while in public. I had to go home and sit down, prepare myself for what could be inside that envelope. I clung to every letter I received. I carefully read each word, then re-read them again, just as carefully as the first ten times. Anything sent with the letter, such as a newspaper clipping was extremely appreciated.

The best part was to look at the cursive writing of my mother and to pay attention to whether or not her writing was extra large, which meant she was in a hurry to send the letter or to be thrilled to get the pages that had smaller print, which meant she took her time and would share more details that I craved to receive. Of course, my mom was still raising two kids. Her job as a busy mom was far from over.

I understood this more than ever because while in Germany, I became a mom myself.

 

Upon my decision to fly around the world and set up house in a place that had given birth to and embraced Nazism only a few decades previously, I left behind a 14 year old brother and an 11 year old sister. Leaving home was actually easy, except for the part about leaving my siblings. We were all so close. My brother went into a tail-spin after I left with a severe rebellion that I had always felt guilty about causing. The two of us had always supported each other through difficult times, and I felt like I had left him behind to deal with a bunch of crap on his own. Essentially, I did.

I tried to write him and to reach out, but he had such a difficult time. I know he was angry and hurt that I left. My sister seemed to be numb. She'd write me the most precious letters that you could ever receive from an 11 year old sister. I'd always taken such a direct role in caring for my sister, especially because our mother was physically handicapped from Polio, but she no longer needed eagle-eye supervision or diaper changing and she didn't even need as much help with meal preparations.

Regardless, I wanted to know everything that was happening back home. It would take at least 7-12 days to receive a letter at our APO address in Germany and it would take just as long for one of my letters mailed from the base post office to reach Texas. I always mourned the fact that by the time the letter had been received, it was kind of old news. By the time my mom would receive a letter about any of my hardships or heartaches, I knew that it would likely be over. Still, I shared.

Over the first few months in my first home-away-from-home in this foreign land of harsh sounding people and a harsher, freezing environment, I realized that my mother had not been paying close attention to my letters because I had been writing specific questions in my letters to her; she would write me, but not ever answer any of my questions. It bothered me greatly. If we couldn't have a direct conversation, we could attempt to communicate, but this meant that our writing had to be taken to a higher level. I didn't want just plain letter writing, I wanted interactive letter writing.

After reading a letter from my mother, I would sit at the table and write her a letter with her letter next to me for reference, making sure I answered her every question. Finally, I wrote to her and told her how important it was to me that she answer the questions in my letters to her because I write them in the hopes of getting a response. From then onward, my mother did her best to answer my questions and I promised to do the same for her.

It was important to me, so she made it a priority. It went beyond letter etiquette, it proved that our relationship was solid enough to bring value to our scribblings.

So, early on, I learned to write with a focus that was sharp and thoughtful. Maybe that is one of the reasons I love to write and to read. Maybe it's one of the reason I greatly admire people who can convey their feelings and their stories in writing.

These days, it seems that people again are too self-consumed to answer the questions. At least I lived in a time when the questions and answers merited attention.

My age has brought with it an appreciation of what it means to have a pen and paper in hand. I have a strong knowledge in knowing the meaning of being separated from your family...I saw them once in three years. I learned to appreciate and love my family more than ever; I longed to never again have such distance between my mother and me because I happened to love my mom. The older I got, the more we wanted to be together. We became great friends. And all those years of writing to each other taught us more about one another.

These days, I guess so much of my communicating will involving typing and hitting "send." My efforts to communicate with family will involved my fingertips flying across the keyboard instead of my entire body flying to another continent. It sure is easier to contact everyone nowadays, but is the quality of our communication any better?

I'm worried that today is too rushed, too brief, too detached, too shallow, and too convenient. Perhaps a little less convenience would bring back a bit more appreciation and more effort to get to know the ones you love, to stay in contact with them, and less convenience might prod us to ask others more meaningful questions.

At least I have a few boxes of old letters. I tell you...an electronic folder full of emails just isn't the same as having a box of letters from family and friends, with their penmanship marking each page...at least I'm just another step closer to having of piece of them with me always.

# 347 - Baby Comprehension

The days are passing by, as if they rush too fast, with the increasing Fall winds! October 13th is the day that is fast approaching...it's the day of my oldest daughter's wedding. Heather will soon carry a new label, as a wife.

But, to me, she'll always remain my daughter. My beautiful first-born child, and I am so damn proud of her!

She does not have any plans for a baby at the moment, but this coming year will likely find her ready to grow her little family. And one day, when she has her own children to be busy raising, to fuss over, to worry about...she will join me in the biggest sorority ever created for women, and that is motherhood. It's a strange thing because mothers and daughters actually enter into a sort of sisterhood once the daughter has children of her own.

Mother has already experienced being both mother and daughter, but once the daughter is no longer only a daughter, but also a mother, the connection deepens and words are not even necessary any longer for the daughter to understand the depths of her mother's love. This happened to me when I gave birth to Heather. Even though I lived thousands of miles away from my mom as I gave birth to my first child, I suddenly faced that fact that my own mother and I had a common bond beyond our blood-bond with a deepening of our body-nurturing connection. We were both daughters, and now, we were both mothers. In that moment, I understood.

My whole life, I had been expecting my mother to understand me...the daughter. But, in the moment I entered parenthood for the first time, I truly felt that knowing-link go into reverse as I began to understand my mother. Up to that point, why had it been such a challenge and heartache to simply try to understand my mother? I guess it takes us being in the shoes, so to speak, to get to the same destination.

I looked at my baby in my arms and laughed while knowing it would take many, many long years for her to reach the comprehension that I had finally been gifted to understand.

One day soon, my daughter and future son-in-law hope to start a family of their own. When she does, all the hopes and dreams and love and affection she feels to her own child will be the spark that lights her own understanding about how she had been held by a young mother who felt all those same emotional whirlings. Even though my daughter and I now share a beautiful bond, things will be difference once she takes life a step further and becomes a mom.

Her inner vision will change that day, as if a beautiful canvas had the vibrant color red hidden and suddenly it bursts into view, yet has been there all along...you wonder how you have never been able to see it. Life is like that sometimes. She will become part of that vibrancy that will remain partial secret until her own day of revelation is upon her.

I will be thrilled for the day when she holds her own baby and feels that amazing awestruck motherish bubbling inside of her, then she will know I have always felt the same for her and it will be incredible.

Sometimes, to fully understand you have been well loved, you have to love well...babies really give us the chance to love well beyond anything we have ever loved before.

And no, not all mothers are loving and supportive, that's a hard truth in this world. Some are cold, uncaring and detached because they were incapable of ever forming a bond with any child. For the children of such parents, I am sorry, but there is something healing about holding your own child and seeing that the love that has been possible is not still out of reach. That's the beautiful part about life. We are given multiple chances to love and to be loved. It is up to us to take advantage of those chances instead of pushing them away.

As for me, my days of mothering were the most beautiful days I can remember; however, I know more are to come. The days of being a grandparent has got to be amazing. If I LOVED being a mother and being present and nurturing to my children throughout their growing years, I can only imagine that I'll be a puddle of mush for the grandbabies with a few dollars in my purse ready to give out and a jar of M&M's on the counter. I will work hard to maintain my softness so it will be ready as a comforting body cushion while I read a few good books that will give me a chance to bellow various character voices.

As a mom, I rejoice in the beautiful moments we have together, I stomp my feet in the frustrating times and get snarky when I feel a good tongue-lashing should have been in order. But, having a daughter who is almost 25 is a different story. The snarky moments now lead to laughter because my "baby" is indeed a grown woman that I admire. And frankly, I love the freedom that has given me as a woman, to know Heather's decisions are of her own making. There's a freedom in knowing you've raised your children to make the best choices for themselves.

Then, you get to sit back and enjoy the show.

You get to smile at their own ups and downs while knowing they'll make it through it because you've already been there, probably a few times already.

You get to watch the cycle of life repeat itself and to be assured that the same old obstacles will always get in the way, but you hope your children are smarter in removing them or avoiding them or barreling through them or you can simply sympathize as those old obstacles cause the same pains you had once endured.

October 13th will be a day when my "baby" will still be my "baby." That will never change. The difference is, she will be closer to knowing in her soul what it means to have a baby and to realize you will feel the same about them, even when they hit fifty years old.

My mother is gone now, but I will always be her baby, whether she is here or not. These days, I have my father constantly reminding me that I am forever his baby...yes dad...I do understand. I love being your baby. I know this and it is beautiful.

The big day is fast approaching. I am going to savor that day for all it is worth. I am going to celebrate the start of a new marriage that will enlarge our own family. To me, that is beyond exciting and makes my heart go a bit faster.

On that wedding day, I am going to be sending up my blessings to God as he watches the joining of two of HIS babies, and then I'll sit back a bit more, relax a little deeper, and keep enjoying the seconds, minutes, and days of my time left here on earth. Life itself is a great show. Enjoy it! All of it!