You're going to have such a fun time!

"You're going to have such a fun time." and "It sounds kind of boring, sitting in a car so long" Those are the kind of comments I got from well meaning friends before I left for Oceanside, CA to be part of the JacAttack crew. I had no idea of what was up ahead. I guess it could be boring. I had visions of watching movies on my iPad... maybe do some sketching and see parts of the country I've never seen.

I've been back home now for a couple of days. To answer my friends, who are asking how it went... it was not fun. It was hard, and nonstop. There were days I didn't even have time to brush my teeth. I slept with my shoes on, in case I had to make a quick dash. A shower was something I didn't think about, and the one I had in a hotel that we rented for 3 hours, was quick as we were all where trying to get a few drops to wash away some grime.

I ate as we went. There were many days that I just forgot to eat, until late in the night. Peanut butter and jelly kept me alive and Starbuck Double Espresso vanilla coffee drinks and gallons of root beer kept me awake. (I gave up soft drinks over 10 years ago!)

My first shift (4 p.m. to midnight) was in the follow van called Lola. I spent most of it standing up watching the traffic behind and then watching Jacquie up ahead. I would open the side door and hand out water and food to her as we were moving. When Jacquie stopped, I jumped out and ran to her, to support her bike and do whatever needed to do at the time. She needed to stay riding as long as she could.  Sometimes I would drive and I needed to be  as close as I could to let the lights on the van further illumine her way.

My second shift was midnight to 8 a.m. We were in Pablo the support van. Our job was to run around and get supplies and do anything the Lola peeps wanted us to do. One of the main things we did was go head of Jacquie, pull the car off the side of the road, and clap, and dance, and sing and do anything to show our support as she rode by. At night, we were just strips of reflective material moving in the night. It helped her focus on the road ahead, and to let her know that the people who loved and believed in her where there for her every stretch of the way.

My third shift was 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. We rode in Harvey, the RV and sometimes got some sleep. Other times were spent in laundry mats and grocery stores.

Our focus was on Jacquie. How could I do my part to make it go smooth? How could I anticipate, not only her needs, but my fellow crew family to make sure food, drink and whatever was needed was there before they asked. Most of the time, it went smoothly. Some of the time I felt like a Three Stooges routine, as we were all running around and sometimes running into each other. It's amazing we didn't drive off without someone.

As much as I loved coming home to Bruce I was missing the crew. I felt guilty taking a long shower, and laying in a bed with sheets and my shoes off. I went to work and thought how boring this is and hoping things were going well in the race.

I couldn't have done this without Bruce. He encourage me to go, to support our dear friends John and Jacquie. He never complained, he never told me of concerns back home. He dove right in and became "Blogger Bruce" and let the world know with his humor and love of the Schlitters what was going on.

What it fun? Hell no. It was the most incredible time and adventure with many new and old friends that have become family. Fun is totally overrated.

This is my favorite photo of my trip. It shows Maria Parker, last years RAAM winner running along with Jacquie. Her sister is dying of brain cancer and yet she and her husband Jim were there for support.

These two women are my heroes.

And to my crew family. Love, love, love

----------------------------------------------------
Race Across America is a grueling, relentless battle and we are so inspired by Jacquie taking it on to end brain cancer. If you missed your opportunity to get a raffle ticket, you can donate at www.3000milestoacure.com or check out the Hope documentary here https://vimeo.com/ondemand/15720.#jacattack #jointhebrainstorm #impossibleisunacceptable  #curebraincancer #RAAM2014  #RAAM

The hardest thing I've ever done

I rode cross country years ago with a group of young missionary's ready to change the world. That was difficult, but not hard. ....  we had our small part in changing the world.

I can honestly say these past few days going cross country, has been the hardest thing I've ever done. Watching Jacquie do the impossible brings tears to my eyes. She inspires me. Her determination, one pedal at a time to reach her goal of riding across the USA in less than 12 days is life changing ... To all involved. We really can do anything .... One pedal at a time. Angel wings on you my friend.

Critters and coffee

I'm glad I grew up with "not so neat" parents. Our small duplex with 5 kids and a dog was always a flurry of activities. It's a good thing we lived in southern calif. All our really messy projects of fort building and booby traps were outside. Our neighborhood in Ventura was surrounded by orchards and fields before the shopping center came in and took our imaginary lands away. 

I'm glad I grew up with "of course we can make it" parents. We didn't have a lot of money, but we had a lot of tools. Hand tools, power tools and welding torches. My brothers were always taking things apart and putting them together. I don't recall my sisters building much other than      Barbie empires, but they have that gene.

I always felt more comfortable in the power tools arena than the Barbie one.

I was thinking this morning, as I watched a roach crawl over my sacred coffee maker, and trying real hard to be totally grossed out, that all the good and bad of my life has brought me to this point of "going with the flow" of RAAM.

I will be traveling cross country with  a dozen people. Such varied personalities and stories. Super couple and super friends John and Jacquie. Tomorrow Jacquie starts her trek across the states on her bike. Crew chief Jim, my fellow coffee lover. Two Okies - Retired pilot Craig who has stories of world travel another retired guy (FAA) Scott. I hope their navigation skills transfer to roads, not just from the friendly skies. Young smiling Ben and I have been battling with thumb wars. He currently is in the lead. I will have to pull out my "old lady/you wouldn't beat your mother" card at some point. Dale in his shades, looks like he should be an agent in "Men in Black". Larry, another retired guy would rather ride a bike than do anything else in life. To balance all the testosterone we have the "tough as nails" biker chicks Joni and Beth. Joni has gone on a solo walking pilgrimage in Spain for a couple months. She is a nurse. Thank you Jesus! I want to say Beth is the most extroverted person I've ever met... But then there was my dad. He knew no stranger and would stop and talk to anyone. 

Today we get all the vehicles inspected.

If they did a background check in everyone they would find a motley crew of adventurous people with a common goal - Keep Jacquie going.

I'm ready for anything and I don't know what this next week will hold. It will be "not so neat" and "of course we can make"

I enjoyed my freshly ground cup of coffee (thanks Perq) roach and all 

Judy's Big Adventure

RAAM - Race Across America. One of the world toughest races. West Coast to East Coast. First one that gets there wins. Extreme weather... extreme terrain. There was a time, not too long ago, that I believed I could do anything. I really do feel like that inside.  My spirit knows no tired muscles and aging bones. It's not until I look in the mirror and see the white hair, the skin not so tight, and wrinkles, that I sigh. I have a great life. I am surrounded by family and friends that love me, support me and share in some crazy things.

Tomorrow I am leaving for Oceanside, CA to join the team as Jacquie Schlitter goes on her solo quest across the states. I am part of about a dozen people that have come together and our sole purpose is to love her across the states - the support crew will be in three vehicles - sprinter van called "Lola", the RV called "Harvey" and "Pablo" the passenger van.

It will take a village to do this. We have mechanics, a nurse and fellow cyclists. Some of them have done the race before, some have crewed before, and some are newby's. I'm a newby. I really don't know what I've gotten myself into, but I do know one thing. I love Jacquie and she inspires me to be better at everything I do. She is like that. An inspiration.

John & Jacquie Schlitter

Where have you been..... it's about time.

Has it really been so long since I posted on my blog? The death of both my parents, and trying to deal with the emotion of it all brought me to here in the first place. It's time to pick it up again. Stay tuned.

Mom Always Like You Best

There's a place in town called Simons. A great early morning hangout for healthy foods, good coffee and it just happens to be on the way to work. I sat at the bar, ready to spread out, read the paper and drink my steaming cup of coffee when a man came and sat in the chair right next to me. I'm thinking how rude of him to take up the space I had reserved for my newspaper.

"Here you go Mr. Smothers" the waitress handed him his regular shot of wheat grass. pause. Oh my gosh. I am sitting next to Dick Smothers. The Smother's Brothers. Not the yo yo man, but the man who always thought his mom liked his brother best. I am calmly sipping my coffee thinking how do I get in to a conversation with him. He took off some bicycle gloves so i quickly said "so, you rode your bike here?" "No, I just wear them to protect my hands. I'm getting old", and then I start telling him how I would need pads for my elbows. It seems I am having a hard time getting thru doorways. We kidded and joked and he looked at me and said "Do I know you?", "No," I said, " but now you do, I am Judy Robertson." to which he replied, "I am Dick Smothers"

We shared stories of growing up in Calif. He in Redondo Beach, I in Ventura. I told him how I missed the foothills of Calif, and he told me how content he was in Sarasota. It was such a fun meeting over coffee.

I told my husband all about it, and he said "Are you going to die, you keep meeting famous people" I'm not sure what the correlation is with meeting famous people and death. I'm just going to enjoy this fabulous ride called life.

Motorcycle Man

Florida gets a bad rap sometimes with all the seniors here. The stories of their driving abilities are what helps redirect a boring g dinner conversation into a time of belly laughs. I've seen uturns that end up on sidewalks. I had one lady stop in the middle of a very well know road, get out of her car, come to my window and say "I think I'm lost". Its those kind of events that used to make me worry about my elderly folks. My folks are gone now, so thats one less thing I have to worry about. One day I was sitting at a traffic light, and I saw a car going down the sidewalk. Granted it was a wide sidewalk, but there he was, as happy as could be.

As I was running errands this morning a man in a beautiful 3 wheel harley, bright blue cruised by. I did notice he was quit elderly, and I thought that this was sure an upgrade from a 3-wheeled bicycle. I had warm fuzzy thoughts towards him. Go Grandpa. Go. When I finally caught up to him, there on the back, strapped on his matching blue luggage case, that only the finest harleys have when tricked out was his walker. Not just any kind. It was the kind with shocks and handbrakes.

I hope when I am old I can go cruisin just like grandpa.

Confessions of a Bipolar Tennis Player

I just don't understand how I can go out and play the tennis game of my life one day, and the next day look like I've never picked up a racquet. I just don't understand how I can serve 3 sets without a double fault, and in a tie breaker, can't even hit the ball over the net, let alone get it in the box.

When I was young, my nerves could face any competitive enemy, stare them in the eye and never break a sweat. Now, menopause has somehow sucked that out of me, and my sweats break out in the middle of the night, and to my dismay....in the middle of a match. My limbs shake and my mind travels around the world, and reminds me of all the faults I've ever had. The voice that I've always been able to quiet is screaming now, and I can't silence it.

I think I might be bipolar.

It happened yesterday. A great first set. Won 6-0. Then I hit a forehand out. "Big deal" you say. In my head I hear "Well, its all over now, there goes the set" So I resorted to finding my long lost, two hits ago, rhythm. I bounce the ball three times before serving, hoping a bit of obsessive compulsive behavior would somehow set me right. I just got bored. I tried grunting on my serve. I just got a sore throat.

We lost the second set. No suprise here, saw it coming on the second point. We were in the tie breaker, and then I double faulted twice....in a row....our two point lead was now tied. "Oh God", I'm praying now..."please don't let me serve again". These things attached to my shoulder were now rubber. The smooth strokes were karate chops.... my turn came to serve again, as I was thinking how could God abandoned me in a time like this. I passed my partner and whispered "Watch for the dink." I resorted to survival. Get that damn ball over the net! Dink one, and we got the point. I lined up for the next point thinking "I'm groveling and I don't care? Dink. Ace.

I wish I could say we won....but we didn't. I walked away wondering how these two people came to inhabit my body. The self assured athlete and the wimp.

I kept thinking of calling my shrink and begging for an emergency session. Instead I called a fellow tennis player, shrink, she works with the kids at Bolletierri and whined. She being of the positive essence, gave me great encouragement. When I get to feeling like quitting she reassured me that its just temporary. I keep her messages on my phone for 911 emergency tennis help.

I think I might be bipolar.

Today I played the tennis game of my life. I served well, I moved like one hot momma. I just waited for the opponents to drill me one at the net. I got most of them, and my reflexes were as good as any 20 year old. My forehand blasted crosscourt winners. I felt like I was a kid again, staring down the enemy. The wimpy voice that tried to yell at me was silenced.

I did find a key today to help me get back on track. I found myself sitting down on the bench during the change overs. Never did that before. I don't need to rest. Let's play ball, has always been my motto. Now, the menopausal momma wants to rest her weary bones, just for a second, before she jumps up to face the enemy in her head one more time.

We won, my partner and I. 6-4, 6-1.



Judy Robertson

Letter FROM Billie Jean King

I had hoped I'd get a reply from BJK. Every day I would look in my email box, and made sure when I emptied my email trash, it wouldn't be there. What a suprise when I opened this a few days ago...

Hello Judy. Thank you for the email you sent below. I was very touched by your kind words. I am glad to hear that you have enjoyed the sport of tennis over the years! I will keep my eyes open for a near "look-alike" and please stop me to say hello if our paths ever cross.

Best wishes and always remember to go for it!!

Billie Jean King

open letter to Billie Jean King

I hope this letter reaches you, through all the emails, phone calls, and daily memos. I just wanted to say thank you for all your given to me personally as a woman, and a tennis player.

I even think my dear mother would thank you. She listened to the endless sound of tennis balls hitting our garage door, as I stood in the gutter, and blasted my serve just like I saw you do so many times on TV. I mimicked every move. I would pick a spot and try to hit it over and over again. The returning ball was my constant opponent, so I never lacked for a rally. I don't recall ever doing this after my dad came home from work. I think after a long day at the Chevron service station, he was tired, and wanted to enjoy his easy chair, can of beer, and the evening news. It wasn't the case with our next door neighbor. The back door would open, as they would plead for me to stop. I just changed locations, and found a wall in the alley to continue my match.

I played when I was a kid in Southern Calif, in the 60s. I learned on the public courts, and every summer would sign up for every session. I played all the local tournaments, and won, not only in my division, but as I played up. An eight year old, beating the 16 year olds was a victory for me, and devastated the older kids. I listened in on my friends private lessons from the pros, and immediately put into practice what I heard. Even today, I listen in on the pros at my tennis club and smile. It takes me way back, to when I was just a kid, wanting someone...anyone to discovery me...and give me a chance in the big leagues.

I became too cool for tennis during my teen years....the lack of opportunity for women to compete was replace by wanting to fit in with my peers. I even tried to hide my tennis tan...I was the only one with white feet! But not now! I wear my tennis tan proudly. My white feet are a testament to the pure joy I have on the clay courts. I play on lots of teams, and take lessons from the pros. I pronounce to my family, every time there is a tennis tournament on TV that the HD set is mine! No Sponge Bob Square Pants this week!

I know you have received many deserving awards. My gosh, the mecca of tennis is named after you. But I want to stand and applaud you, for giving this young kid a vision for greatness and a reason to hit thousands of tennis balls on every wall in Ventura. I am 54 now, and I have people stop me often and say "you have such a classic style of tennis...you play like Billie Jean"...or they say..."you look like someone..." "yes, yes, I know. I look like Billie Jean". I live in Sarasota Florida. Martina lives here, and I often see her eating at Simons, a local hangout. One day we passed each other at the exit. She did a double take, looking at me. I let her have her privacy, but what I really wanted to say was "Yes, yes, I look like Billie Jean!"

The other day I was filling out one of those online question/answer survey. Who would you like to meet....no hesitation here - Billie Jean.

If your ever in Sarasota Florida, Please stop by. I know a few walls, that could use a match or two.

Art with Ann.

Artist & Friend.

My mom lost my dad and her best friend within months of each other. I think she missed Norma more than my dad. Over the next year, when my mom was feeling down, and lonely she would ask me "Where do I find another best friend at my age?" Mom was 83. I told her she probably would never have another best friend like Norma. They come once in a lifetime, but that there where many other people that could be her friend. I volunteered wholeheartedly. I wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but we made it work. Sadly, she died earlier this year, and I lost my best friend.

I've realized that people come and go, and lives are touched and smiles and tears are shared along the way. I just never know when a friend will show up, and take a hold of my heart. I had just become a volunteer for Tidewell Hospice. I do all sort of things, like delivering medicines and dressing up as a clown and visiting nursing homes. A request came in for someone to visit an older lady once a week and paint with her. She was an artist. My hand shot up....pick me, I thought. I'm an artist. She would be my first client. I could do this.

An so one Friday, I met Anne and my heart melted. Many Friday afternoons are spent doing watercolors, as I watch her finish painting after painting. My one watercolor a week, can't keep up with what she produces. We talk endlessly about the beauty and gift of not only being an artist, but the gift of life. There is a moment in creating, that the world stand stills and you enter the "zone". Its a marvelous moment. Each week I watch Anne as she enters that world, and watch her work. Her hand is so steady, as she chooses the next color and brushes in the details. Its thrilling to watch. We critique each others work, and talk about colors and composition. She knows when a painting isn't quite done, as she "putskies" around with it, until we both say "it is finished".

"Anne, I think we should have an art show of your work. Would you like to do that?" Her eyes brightened, and I started planning. We worked for weeks, finishing up paintings, making sure we had enough. The date is set. Its coming up in a couple of weeks. Brushstrokes. Art by Anne Krum, Centenarian.

I just never know when a friend will show up in my life. Anne and I have become friends. We are both artists. She is still full of life, her mind is crystal clear, her hands are steady, and she is 103.

Judy Robertson
Sarasota, Fl
8.21.07

Final Trip Home

Since three yesterday afternoon, my mom had been failing fast. My travels home were filled with delays. I had plane flights canceled and even left a day later. We got turned around in LA on the way home, and it took us 45 minutes longer that usual. My siblings kept telling my mom that I was almost there. They even had a laptop computer to show her my flight pattern. "She's over Texas now, hang in there mom...she's landing...she driving...she's just around the corner."

I walked into my mom's room yesterday to a scene I always knew would happen, but tried to will away. My whole family was surrounding my mom, as she rested in the hospital bed that was delivered that day. Her breathing was slow, her eyes glazed. "Please God, I cried, let me have just a moment with her" I took her hands in mine, and whispered her name. "Mommy", I said. "I'm here...I love you" Her eyes focused for a moment and she puckered to kiss me. "My Judy" she said, and then tried to utter words that I couldn't understand, but knew they meant "I love you" "Mom, I'm so glad you have you teeth in" and she chuckled. and I knew she heard me.

When my dad died 14 months ago, his roommate died without his teeth in. He was alone. My dad had his teeth and looked so much better. The scene haunts me to this day, that man dying alone without his teeth. Its one of the reasons I became a volunteer for hospice. No one should die alone. My mom and I had a running joke about her teeth, I made her promise me that when she died she would have them in. She did, and it was the most beautiful chuckle I ever heard.

I slept in her room last night to the sound of her snoring. My sister came to check on her, and listened to both of us snoring together. Every time I woke up, I listened. The noise that drove me nuts as a kid was heavenly. I knew she was breathing.

At 11:10am today, my mom died at home. Away from the hospitals we all hated. Away from machines and tubes. She got her wish, and we were all there. Her kids, her grandkids, her dog. The absence in my life seems unbearable. She was my biggest fan. She was an artist, a plumber, a builder, and computer geek and her love of tennis never wained. She raised 5 kids who loved her dearly. About 2 weeks before she died, she told me of a dream that she just didn't want to end. She was healthy and played the tennis game of her life.

I'm sure right now, she's trying to get a game together. Oh, how I"ll miss her.

Letter to an Exchange Student

I have a friend, Maggie who is an exchange student in Belgium . I've know her since she was justs a little girl. She grew up with my kids. We are like family. She is also, one incredible young lady who will go on to change the world. Here is a letter I sent to her, on one of her low days.

Hi Maggie,

Well, I just happened to be staying in your room on the "I almost blew up the house, while Travis watched TV" episode.
Yes, it could have been a disaster, but the house was spared, and I don't think Travis lost too many brain cels. We did go to change the batteries in the smoke alarms, and found out that the alarm for carbon minoxide didn't even have a battery in it!!! The house is well aired out, though, and you know how much your mom loves the outdoors!

I woke up and read your email, while laying (lying) I never know which lay to use, in bed----on my Treo phone. It was an effort on that 2 in screen, but I did it.

Don't worry about fooling us with your cultured, artsy side. Those of us who know you realize this is a ploy to get out of the house, and into the throngs of people. They might be strangers, but I'm sure you can feel like you aren't a "trapped teenager" Think of Harry Potter in his closet, and then you won't feel so bad! We all know you are a TV junkie, and love to be on the computer.

About your re-entry into America! Mothers have to say it will all be fine....its written in our genetic code, that is released at the moment the child is birthed and cries for the first time. Everyone thinks the cry is for joy. I for a fact, know that what the child is screaming while taking its first breath is "Will it be ok? I wanna go back to where its safe, and I'm protected" We, as the birthing vessels always shout "It's ok, It will be fine" and under our breath so no one can hear us quietly say "No way in hell, will I let you back in. Your on your own, baby!"

I spent a few years away as a missionary. The thought of home was always a comfort. Somethings were always constant for me. My parents, my siblings. I knew I was part of a family, no matter how weird they are. It was home. But when I came back, everything looked just a bit different. They didn't change, I did. They still loved me, but the skin I wore when I left, was tight and even though it had my name on it, it didn't fit right. I imagine it will be like that for you.

You will be back, and there will be lots of partys and hugs, and everyone will want to hear ALL about your adventure. It will be wonderful, and you will be the queen bee. But the hard part, will be after they stop asking...its like post partum depression, I think. Your left holding the baby. That's when you TAKE A BIG BREATHE, and let it all out. Your friends, and family all love you, and you will just have to find your next adventure. I'm glad you have school in Austin coming up. I love that town. How can anyone study there, and not spend every hour partying, is beyond me. (ask your parents)

So in summary, my friend
1. Your house still stands
2. Its hard to read your long emails on a Treo phone
3. You have not fooled us with your artsy adventures
4. Mothers have to say "it will all be fine"
5. You need a new outfit, in the "I'm more of an adult" size
6. The queen returns
7. Friends will always be there for you
8. Watch out world, here she comes - that's you Maggie, that's you!

love
Judy

ps....Buster still thinks he's starving, and no one will feed him enough!

I'm Going to Paint, Dammit!

I met a lady yesterday, who is a graphic artist, and a painter. She was so inspirational to me. She has a little cottage in her back yard, that she goes and paints. No computer or cell phone allowed.

I was jealous.

I talked with my artist friend (that I traveled to Italy with) who was on her way to New Zealand for 3 weeks, to vacation and gather reference for paintings. She told me about her warehouse space in Santa Fe. A place for her to get messy and do her art. All the other studios around her are filled with artists. A real community.

I was really jealous.

so....

I went out to home depot yesterday, and bought supplies to make these boxes. Kinda like a shadow box, that when you are done, there is no need for a frame (which costs more than the painting these days. Good framing is expensive.)

I talked with two other friends....one a financial analyst, and another a photographer. Speak it out to the universe, they keep saying. Manifest it. Speak it out to God, I keep saying. So I am speaking it out. I want to paint. I want my own space. I want to be surrounded by a community of artists. I want a space with no computers or cell phones. I want to not worry about money. I just want to create. I want to give back.....

so....

here i go. Dammit, I've got to start sometime.

Live a Little

"You need to live a little. You need to roll down the windows and stick your head out! You're going to regret it someday, Mom. You just need to loosen up"

I'm a child of the 60's. I used to wear flowers in my hair, and march for peace. I wore tie dye, and beads, and hip huggers and wide belts. I was part of Earth Day, when the earth didn't get much notice. Live a little? I went to Europe with a backpack. I slept in youth hostels and carried my guitar so I could strum and sing on the streets. I was cool then!

Now, I'm a mom. Granted, I spike my hair, and have a nose ring, but I am still a mom. I take my daughter shopping so she can buy tie dye, beads and hip huggers with wide belts. She plays the guitar. She is cool, and I need to loosen up.

I'm not sure where all the years have gone, and how I lost my coolness. Maybe its when I birthed my children, and became responsible. Maybe its when I took my daughter shopping and she didn't like anything I choose. She was 2. I lost some of it, when my kids wanted to sleep in fancy hotels, and I wanted to go camping. I lost even more of it when I got a mortgage on a house, which meant I had to work and pay the bills. It takes a certain kind of seriousness to handle this life I've created. I think I lost most of it, when my dad died, and my mom got diagnosed with cancer....again. The thought of being an orphan scares me, even if I am an adult.

So I'm trying to become more cool. I've got a myspace account. For a few days I was a 17 year old, single, and not interest in children. I'm not sure how those adjectives got attached to my account, but it was disturbing to my daughter when she read "not interested in children." I changed it to be who I am. 53 years old, married with kids.

I will roll down those windows and stick my head out one of these days. Right now, its about 100 degrees outside. I will wait for a cooler day.

CLOWNING AROUND TOWN

Click on title above to go to my new project. Painting a 6 foot clown for Tidewell Hospice & Palliative Care here in Sarasota. All clowns will be auctioned off to raise money for the children's services. It's a great fun project. Join me as I create my clown.

Link: http://web.mac.com/judyrobertson/iWeb/Clowns/Welcome.html

What I've Learned From Trees.

With coffee in hand, I sat as a bump on a log in the middle of Brown County State Park, near Nashville Indiana and listened to the stirrings of a new day. It is moments like this, that helps me shed all the clutter of daily life, and I can take on the issue of the world around me. Trees. Big trees. How would I paint them? What color what I put on my palette? They're everywhere... it shouldn't be hard. Years ago, I signed up for a plein air art class with my friend Linda. Part of plein air painting is standing out in the forest and try to see the trees. My trees were blobs on the canvas. Linda did a much better job of capturing the essence of them. I gave up on trees, and she went on and became a very successful painter.

I haven't thought about trees much lately, until I had a conversation last week, with an art teacher from high school. It was art teachers that changed my life growing up. I found acceptance in those classes. Annette was the best. Not much older than her students, she opened the world and accepted us for who we were. And, she saw something in me, when all I could see was depression and not fitting in. There was a small band of us, that naturally gravitated towards each other. Our artist souls were beckoning to each other, when words couldn't be found. Our creative projects became home for us, as we fed the essence of our being.

Annette talked about taking an art class and learning how to paint trees. I smiled thinking of my blobs. "The teacher keeps commenting on how I well I can capture the essence of trees"

I found the secret this morning to painting trees. Its not all the greens, and browns to brush on the canvas. Its the light coming thru that give the contrast. I don't think I had enough in my life years ago to see the light coming thru the branches. I only saw the blobs of my life. They all blended together. Linda, could see it. Her life growing up was such a struggle of conflicts and contrasts. Mine was ordinary. It wasn't until later, when life forced me into the hard parts, and the joy of discovery, that the contrast started to become clearer to me. I can see the light now thru the branches. I can see how to paint those trees. Linda found it right away. Annette is discovering it now.

Its time, to pick up that paint brush again, and paint those trees.

Bad Memories

I've never had a bad experience with ice cream. It's the one food group that is on the top of my food pyramid. Ice cream does not feed my body, except to add poundage, but it certainly feeds my soul. There are flavors I prefer, but none that I hate enough to turn down. Homemade vanilla is tops! You can always judge how good all the flavors of a brand are, by tasting the basics - vanilla.

I can't say the same for pizza. I can remember coming down with the flu after eatting pizza. It's a bad memory. I don't need to go into the details, except to say, it's not a warm, fuzzy memory. But I can remember all the times as a child of making homeade ice cream, with lots of eggs, and fresh peaches or strawberries. Being one of five kids, brought out the best and worst of us, when it came to ice cream. Fighting over who got to turn the handle first, and who got tired of doing it brings a smile to my face even today. As it got harder to turn the crank, our anticipation grew, as we wondered who would get that first taste and declare it the best ever! We'd eat the ice cream in bowls and then fight over who got to lick the paddles, and then fought over who got to scrape the inside of the frosty container.

Our backyard was full of fruit trees and a strawberry patch. Nothing better than waking up in the morning, and picking peaches and strawberries to add to my cereal. 2x4 boards when jimmied under the weakest branches of the peach tree that strained to hold up all the ripening fruit. Our afternoons of playing outside always included snacks at the peach tree as we grabbed one, on our dash through the yard. The fuzz was wiped on our clothes, and the juice dripped all over our faces.

I don't think I've ever turned down a bowl of ice cream. It just doesn't seem right to say no. I can say no to most everything else.

My favorite place to eat ice cream is around the kitchen table. Forget the fancy dining room. Ice cream needs a homey setting. Ice cream doesn't need the trappings of a fancy restaurant or dining room. Ice cream speaks for itself.
Each bite reminds me how much I love ice cream, and floods me with the memories and innocence of being a kid again, watching and waiting for that first bite.

categories: Humor_

Norma

Best friends. I'm convinced that throughout our lifetime, we get just a few "best" friends. They are the ones that go way back in our life. They know our history, because they've been so much a part of it. New friends take a bit of breaking in. It takes time to go over everything to get them up to speed. I've had that same feeling when going to see a new therapist. It took 2 sessions just to get the history of my life out in an understandable timeline sort of fashion. And then years to figure out what happened.

Norma is the reason my mom is still alive. During the darkest days of my mom's life, she always had Norma to talk to. Lunch. Every Thursday. They were both accomplished artists. I have such vivid memories of going to art shows, and seeing my mom's art up on one wall, and then seeing Norma's on another.

My mom just lost her best friend Norma. They have been friends forever. I never had a real aunt, but Norma was everything a real aunt could be. She has become part of our verbal history in our family. Whenever there was any sort of event or celebration, Norma just had to be told. Many, many times at the end of my phone conversations with my mom, I would say "Make sure Norma knows". I will miss her.

Norma. My mom's best friend, and my hero!

Hospice Reject!

Hospice Reject!
Originally uploaded by jrdesigns.