Talk Thursday – Saying Goodbye

I’ve been trying to remember how long Talk Thursday has been around, I’m fairly certain it’s about two years. Sacred Sister enlisted JA and I to play along with her and well that is the beginning. Then Sacred (my Valley Sista Surfer Chickie) moved on. Sad, I miss her.
Just as she was saying Adieu, Angie and then Sid were signing on. Sid recruited Eddie, Lyn Blossum, and Jenniphur and then JA was gone. Sadly we’ve not been able to recruit more people who want to share and address a topic each week. Please leave me a message if you’re interested… because I’m fairly certain we’re interested in you.

Now Angie is leaving us for her life. I hate when I come second to real life. Bummer dude. She’ll be missed, but the truth is she’s been saying good-bye for a while now. A single mom with a burgeoning life – that frankly, calls. I understand. Good luck and bonne vie, bonne sante, bons souhaits. No, I don’t speak French.

Strangely, yesterday afternoon I over heard a conversation being held loudly via cellphone that somewhat is connected to the topic; it might ring eerily familiar to events in your own past, it does in mine. To paraphrase what I heard

“I was so over her and going to break up, but she broke up with me first. I was devastated. I mean she dumped me, I was depressed for a good three weeks.”

Now what is wrong with this “Saying Goodbye” senario? It isn’t about the splitting up, it isn’t about being “so over” it is about being dumped.

Oh, I know the dumped end of breaking up. I think I broke up with boyfriends a whole three times, maybe four, could Keith get back to me on that? Scott was pretty pissed by my 14 year old daughter beat his ass at chess that I don’t think he noticed the break up amid his temper tantrum. When I realized Steve was in actuality a stalker, who – yes folks, got that close to me, called me damaged goods for months. Being in radio isn’t without its draw backs…who needs a possessive stalker anyway? And then there was Greg. Damn that is the one that hurt, but I couldn’t take his drug problem around my daughter. As for all the rest they dumped me.

Dumping is nothing new to me, boy friends, girl friends, husbands – been there, done that – got the diploma. For all the dumping I am stronger, clearer minded, and self-dependent. Saying Good-bye isn’t an end, it is a new beginning, for you, for me, for those who move to new paths. For those moving into this path, welcome; to those moving on good luck.

After all life is about saying “Hello,” and “Good-bye.”

Sith,
Cele

Letters From Home – Memorial Day 2009

While the majority of Americans enjoy a three-day weekend, I work – radio stops for no one, accept for the random “Act of God – Mother Nature.” It’s not a three day vacation most of our nation’s (or any nation’s) armed servicemen.

Those who know me even the smallest amount, know I am pretty much against war. It doesn’t mean I don’t know that at times war is a necessary evil – WWII is the perfect example. But while we were helping one people we were doing harm to some of our own through prejudice and fear.

"The only thing we have to fear is fear it'self - nameless, unreasoning, unjustified, terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." FDR upon his first inauguration.

I am not the only Quaker who thinks this way, not the only American, not the only human. But I do honor our veterans, those who have joined our armed forces for whatever belief, reason, or cause. I honor you. I honor your memory. I honor the comforts and loves you left behind to do what you thought what right. I honor you.

My father served. My brothers have both served; the youngest will retire after twenty plus years of service to the Air Force – all over the world, in two years. My father joined to escape a nowhere life of poverty and violence. My younger brother, well I’m not sure why he joined. And my youngest brother found a world wide traveling life that has taken him to the highest ranks of the enlisted. For whatever reason they joined, had war called I’m sure they would have done what they signed up to do. I know Buddy has. I honor him.

This morning I play songs that honor the sacrifices of our soldiers, citizen soldiers, those who give what I haven’t.

Letters From Home – John Michael Montgomery

I hold it up and show my buddies,

Like we ain’t scared and our boots ain’t muddy, and they all laugh,

Like there’s something funny bout’ the way I talk,

When I say: "Mama sends her best y’all"

I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,

Pick up my gun an' get back to work

An' it keeps me driving me on,

Waiting on letters from home.
written by: David Lee and Tony Lane

Florence has erected a Veteran’s Memorial Wall in the new Veteran’s Memorial Park on the Siuslaw River. It is simple, even stark, and somehow peaceful. My mom, Ducky and I have purchased three bricks to honor my father and bros.

This weekend I took Burp down where he made etchings of each brick Furby brick and one that was purchased in the memory of his other great grandfather, who until that moment I’d not known had served in India. Hmmm. We took an extra moment to remember my father and discuss a story of his from his stint in Panama. Now Burp wants to go see a Panther.

Having lived during the Viet Nam era I remember the revulsion that greeted our veterans when they returned answering a call from our country’s leaders. I am heart broke at the hatred they found upon their return home. I mourn the loss of all that they were. I revile the old men who sat cozy in their air-conditioned offices, thousands of miles away from harm, making decisions that kept then safe while sending tens of thousands of men and women to their deaths for oil and greed.

“We have met the enemy, and he is us.” Pogo

I sincerely hope we have learned lessons by revisiting our own personal history. I hope that despite what our personal beliefs we honor our veterans.

To those who serve,
Thank you,

Cele

Photo Friday - Shiny

I know later I'm going to have this "Ah, Ha!" moment about what picture I should have posted. For now I am stumped and the lighting sucks. And it's sunny. pfft!

The color of this car can only be described as "Vesuvius". It was all pretty and shiny, and I really, really wanted to take it home. I think Ducky would have noticed had I put it in my pocket.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday: What It Is…

It is everything, it is nothing, it is the past, and it is the future. Most of all it is whatever I want it to be, what ever I make it.

It is the want to be thinner, as someone once said, “There is a skinny person inside of me wanting to get out.” Yes, I am fat. It was not by choice, but maybe it was by karma – and those pesky little jeans. All those times, in my thinner years, I noticed someone’s wide butt, cellulite legs, a paunch and thought, “I won’t ever let myself become that big.” Darn, darn, darn now I own them all. I did not say when I grow up I want to be lumpy and sad, but here I am. Maybe what it is …is young, thin arrogance. Maybe it is ignorance, I definitely know it is seemingly impossible to be rid of.

It is the wish to be kinder. I have an opinion, despite Madonna’s mantra that everyone is entitled to her opinion, not everyone needs to know mine. Those self-abusive enough will stop by my blog, read three paragraphs and then run in the opposite direction without leaving a comment. I don’t need to slash and burn with my words, but I do need to give my compassion, love, and patience to those who are bruised and in need; to become a better person through the osmosis of the best of my spiritual family. What it is should be easy.

It is a wish to share the best of me with those I love and who love me. To accept and love them for their faults and who they are, not who I want them to become. To remember that often what I dislike in others are the very things that can be found within myself. What it is …is the conscious decision to rebuff and countermand hatred and disparity.

What it is, is what I make it. It is what ever you make it. I will not harbor anger over what I alone cannot change, but I will patiently work to change injustices, wrongs, and prejudices one person at a time. It takes one person, one step, one smile to open the door to the next. What it is, is something I can do with the thought in mind that I too can change the wrongs and misjudgments inside of me.

Sith,
Cele

Rhododendron Festival – 2009 Pacific Wonderland

I live in heaven, I love where I live, I live where I love. Florence is a small town to most, sometimes too big to me, but it offers all I want. And my husband is willing to commute eighty miles each way to work. Thank goodness.

On the third full weekend each May Florence celebrates our native Macrophyllium – Rhododendrons.

And some not so native, but beautiful all the same.


We do this with an annual festival that is three days of sun (oh please lord), classic cars, and a parade.


My job is to run all over town on Saturday of the festival, interview people, and remind everyone of the sights they don’t want to miss, bring them the sounds of what they are missing, and remind them to cross traffic on Highway 126 at signaled intersections. In Florence there are only four.

This year I had a two hour break mid day so we started by visiting the car show.
Over four hundred entered this year’s event at Three Rivers Casino. What a cluster !&#! of a traffic jam… but the cars were divine.














Ducky and I have a Rhody tradition. After I get off work Saturday afternoon… usually around 6:30, we go to old town Florence and watch KCST’s Classic Car Cruise.



After we sit and watch the first two or three circuits the cars make, Ducky and I begin walking.

Now, true Florence is not large, Old Town is even smaller, but it makes for a nice walk, we stop and chat with old friends, watch the cars and make our way to the west end of Bay street for a Mocha. Then we walk all the way to the east end of Bay Street (wow, three blocks) and have an elephant ear from the carnival and find a bench on the boardwalk and enjoy the evening.

For the week or so before Rhody Festival I write a parade script. Spend the majority of Sunday of Rhody Weekend broadcasting said script in all its hometown Rhody glory.





BTW, it’s really hard to take pictures while you’re broadcasting the parade.

And then I go home and crash.

I’m at the crashing part.

Sith,
Cele
PS just 363 days until Rhododendron Festival is here (May 22nd – 24th 2010.)

Photo Friday - 2009 Self Portrait

I have been thinking about participating in Photo Friday for a while. Steve always post some kewl pictures. Then I found out my new friend Maya at A Day In The Life does Photo Friday (psst her artistry scares me.) But Tewkes' (honey you may run, but the name sticks) always does Two Things Photo (her eye boggles my mind, I wish I had a smigeon of her talent) and she does 100 Strangers which is a lot more than photography. They all have the big, kewl cameras, I've got just my little Fugi thingie, and my Pentax (if we waited for me to develop film it we'd be past the second coming,) but I want to play.

I'm still contemplating Two Things.

My first Friday Photo: 2009 Self Portrait


At first I wasn't happy, and then I thought about the textures behind the glass, the obfusticated quality it lent the "portrait." Kewl, what lies underneath.

Cele

Talk Thursday: I Never Thought I’d Be….

This incredibly late… on just about everything. The older I get it seems the less adaptable I have become. Eight months ago… or so my work schedule changed by only 90 minutes, but I now seem to have little time for blogging. Throw in a community festival or three, Home and Garden Show, new garden, Radio Auction, and damn where did the time go? I should be a large white rabbit with a pocket watch and spinning head, ushering little girls out of the garden who want to dine on my mushrooms and new blooms. But again darn I was late and the rabbit’s gone.

I use to read my growing length of favorite blogs, comment, because you know me, I have to put my four bits worth in. Come home peruse my favs again and yeah more comments. Now I barely get my make up on in the morning, purse loaded with lunch and my bed made before I am almost late for work. I might get to check my blogs again before Ducky gets home from work, but usually it’s not until after dinner. Argh.

Age is not really a problem for me, accept the days, months, years, crap decades are flying by. I look forward to what awaits me on other plans of existence, but I am enjoying all the things here. Not that I get to choose the time I move on, but I’d like long enough minutes, hours, days, weeks, and yes, years to savor the moments and people. Savor like a wonderful wine or chocolate that you hold on your tongue to take in every little flavor bud and relish it with zeal.

This was specifically brought home this morning and last night. I had wonderful visitors, two delightful people I would love to tuck in my pocket and keep forever. But our visit was so fleeting, (insert heavy hearted sigh) sadly I have not one little picture of their visit. So Janet and Maya will have to come back soon. I need pictures. Delightful, wonderous, cheerful, funny people I want to savor. And damn, time was short and fleeting. I hope they come back soon.

Sith, (Scottish Gaelic word for peace) (Irish Gaelic for Banshee that fits too I hear)
Cele

PS if you think this isn't late.... again it's last week's topic. (shakes head in shame and disgust)

Talk Thursday – We All Make Mistakes

Boy, am I late. I don’t seem to have any energy. Is that the problem with my TT post? No, that would just be an excuse. Thing is I have no energy. What I do have aplenty is fodder for last week’s topic.

We do all make mistakes; one of my mantras is “A mistake is worth making if you learn from it” which goes right into my other two tenets of life 1) Where we’ve been is who we are and 2) It’s all about the journey. Circular logic.

When I was young, I thought I was always right when the reality, as I see it now, is I was right about thirty percent of the time, with the ratio going up daily dependant on the lessons learned and retained. I learn through my mistakes- made many, many times over. On the other hand my daughter Psam seemingly learns from my mistakes; Misery learns just like me-fall on my butt time and again until the lesson is pounded in. I’ve always try to remember the mistakes I made and realize that my girls are where I have been, let them learn. Thing is they are learning much better than I ever did.

I have always given with my whole heart. My father would point out this friend or that who he felt was “using me.” I never truly understood, I still don’t, and I’m thinking I never will. Am I naïve? Could be. I want to think that people are as honest and open with me as I am with them. And yet, even I know that is somewhat fool hearted. I want to see the best in people, the honest endeavors, the pure emotions and revelations because that is what I want others to see in me. When I find myself motivated by something less than pure I fall in my own esteem. Honesty has become a personal benchmark in my life and personal growth.

I have also come to value friends more than maybe I had in the past. I’ve always made friends quickly, but they weren’t always fast friends. Now I know quality in my friends is far more important than quantity. My pages at FaceBook and MySpace are becoming a reflection of my importance in the word and meaning of friend. I idon’t just say yes to a “Make me your friend request. Especially on FaceBook when you see my friend listed, they are my friend. Maybe in a different degree from one to the next, but they are people I have met, people I have spent time with, people I value with my heart. Some are new friends, some are old and endearing friends. But one mistake I have made that I can’

A River of Time has created a chasm between now and then with many early and mid-life friends. I grow, or they grow more, we grow apart because the land in between was not tended with care and respect, value and devotion. Sad, that is the mistake I regret.

My friends, I value you.

Sith
Cele