Meet Me Between The CoversISSUE 9

"A Forum For Published Bloggers" ...

 

We have another published blogger !

 

 

JOE of

 

PAGANS DON'T WEAR SANDALS

 

---

LUCY INTERVIEWS JOE

 

Q -  Can you tell us a little about your book ?

A -  “Ogallala: The Rise of Morning Sun” takes place in the 2020’s.

It is about Eddie Carter, a broken news reporter,

who stumbles upon a dream story while

covering a government corruption scandal.

The story leads him to Nebraska, where governor

John Morning Sun Gall, a Lakota Sioux Indian,

is battling an administration that doesn’t

care for the people’s interests.

Gall is becoming so influential, the government

has sent an assassin to kill him.

Eddie is sent to “follow the assassin”.

The government is headed by Josua Reston,

a profane, skirt-chasing, drug-taking president,

whose administration is crumbling around him.

 

All of this frustration and a scandalous affair, brings the crippled president to resign, causing a huge celebration in Nebraska.

But the assassin is still there !

 

 

Q - What inspired you to write it?

A - This story actually began back in 1983.

At that time, the plot was going to be that oil was discovered in Nebraska and the Arabs were trying to buy the land.

 

This time it’s “all about the water”.

I was inspired to write again by an experience I had

while recovering from my second battle with cancer.

I then, had the time to write.

I wanted to write an inspirational story, so I made it a, sort of, ‘second-coming type', with John Gall as its focus.

 

It was important that he be an Indian because Nebraska

had nearly run them all out in the 1840’s.

He resurrects from the Sand Hills area, around Ogallala.

 

Inspiration, for me, can come from anything natural.

If I’m out in the air, with trees, water, grass, it doesn’t matter;

I am inspired.

 

 

Q - Is this your first book and do you have plans to write another.

A - I wrote my first book in 2003.

It is called “Zapata’s Horse: The Book of While”.

I self-published it, big mistake !

I had to do my own editing, and promotion.

It laid a huge egg !

I made many mistakes, and a person doesn’t pick up

their own mistakes often.

It was plot-repetitious, and much too long !

I have another almost ready for submission.

It is entitled “Jack Stand: the minimal man”.

It’s about an ordinary guy, falls in love,

and becomes caught up in a terrorist attack.

 

Q - What authors have inspired you and why ?

A - Steinbeck and Jack Kerouac are two of my favorites,

Kerouac especially.

He went against convention and established publishing companies. He blew out his first novel “On The Road” in 36 hours,

on a scroll of continuous paper.

No publisher would touch it !

Then City Lights Publishing took the chance

and the rest, they say, was history.

Like so many others, I carried it around in my back pocket,

when I was fifteen.

His incisive color, when describing anything,

was full of rebel enthusiasm.

He could make a plate of potatoes read like a revolution !

Steinbeck was everyman’s writer.

He knew the value of hard working people,

and put their lives in a literal perspective.

 He knew poverty and hardship.

I loved “Travels with Charlie”, a book about him and his Dog. 

 

 

Q - The reason I love to promote blogger's books is because I am simply amazed at the wonderful writing here.
What advice would you give to someone who would like to

write a book and the second part of the question is

how does one become published.

A - My only advise was given to me a long time ago.

It was: “write every day!”

 

Force yourself, even if you don’t feel like it;

especially if you don’t feel like it !

Sometimes, the best stuff you do is when you don’t feel like doing it!

And, never give up !

My writing probably won’t do much; I have no illusions.

But it is fun and a compulsion now; I love it.

To tell how a person becomes published is

more difficult than pole-vaulting.

I have the obligatory drawer full of rejection slips.

 

It hurts, personally, when you get rejected.

These stories are our babies, and it’s a real slap to

have them spanked !

 

My publisher this time, Publish America,

printed my story, did the art work from my ideas,

put it out, and is promoting it to outlets.

 

They did it all at no cost to me.

I am under no other obligations.
Whatever it does, is unimportant.

I am on to the next thing, and it will have to live or die on its own !

I have hopes for it, but I’m under no illusions.

 

 

Q - At what age did you begin to writing.

Was there a particular teacher who took an interest in you

and guided you or perhaps one of your parents ?

A - When I was 13, my English teacher picked me

to write an article for the town newspaper.

I got a huge kick out of that, and have loved to write since then.

 

My oldest brother, who always tormented me as ‘skinny and ugly’, read it and said: “Joe, you can write!”

That was a real compliment because I thought he hated me.

His words were real !

 

 

Q - How does a book come to you ?
Do you have it mapped out in your head with a beginning,

a middle, and an end ?
In other words what is your writing process?

A - I write in the morning, the earlier the better.

My head seems to be its freshest then.

I go until I feel empty.

It might be two hours, or six;

it all depends on the subject matter, and my mind.

I have never started a story at the beginning.

Ideas, just lines of notions, will come to me.

If they make a reasonable story line, I begin to build around them.

 

My first story came from a poem I wrote down.

That came from a dream I had while in the hospital.

Dreams are very important.

If I can remember them, I write them down

in as much detail as possible.

I guess you would describe me as an off-beat writer.

Dreams are really weird, but you’d be surprised

what truth you can come up with from them.

Somewhere, along the story line, I have to decide the ending.

I think the ending is as important as the beginning,

maybe even more so.

What will become of the characters?

What is the story’s purpose?

Where do I think, is the reader’s interest.

 

 

Q - I have often heard that fictional books have

a degree of biographical truths to it...
Do you find this to be true on a certain level ?

A - Absolutely!

I can only write things I know about.

Now, Sci-fi, and horror writers are a different breed.

They have to, practically, make up everything about their stories!

 

My stories always contain people I know, including myself.

The places I have seen are important.

I have to ‘feel’ what I write about.

 

Diane and I went to Ogallala so I could get a ‘feel’ of it.

It didn’t disappoint me.

The Sand Hills are a huge inspiration, so quiet,

I could hear my breathing.

It is a huge part of my latest story.

Characters are huge.

They must be believable, and the readers must care about their lives - love them, or hate them.

 

Comedy is also important to me.

I want the reader to snicker once in a while.

 I like comedy at a surprising moment.

My characters are always people I know, or have known.

It makes me know the character’s quirks.

I think that is important.

 

 

Q - What book are you currently reading ?

A - I just finished “The way of the Pilgrim”.

I don’t read a whole lot.

I have it in my mind to re-read “Moby Dick”, and “Don Quixote”. Time is my problem, and usually when I start reading,

I get tired and fall asleep.

 

I haven’t read any new writers in a long time.

 I love to read poetry.

It is mind candy for me.

I love the writers in Blogstream;

I to, am surprised by the quality of the writers,

and wish in any way to support them.

I’d like to put them up on my web site, to get them exposure.

 

 

Q - What is your favorite book of all time?

A - That would have to be “On the road” by Jack Kerouac.

The life, the city, the musical Jazz, the seeming futility of all of ‘it’, were his ever-present search.

It was about two guys who traveled, looking for America.

 

 

Q - Joe, do you have information on the shirts you mentioned?
I would love to promote them also.

A - The tee shirts are available now.

Anyone buying the book, can get one for $3.00; send it to:

Ogallala
PO Box 6
Burlington, Iowa 52601

If any one wishes to just have the tee shirt,

send $10.00 to the same address.

 

To purchase Joe's book:

 

The price on Amazon is $18.95 + $3.00 shipping and handling.

Click HERE

 

Barnes and Noble also has it.

Click HERE

---

 

A little bit about Joe:

 

"I like crazy shit, man.  I love Jack Kerouac, and the "beats".  Like, who really was the Beatles' Walrus?  And what was Jesus's middle name?  I know it wasn't the one that we learned in the Army !  Or, in the movie "Magnolia", what the hell was that about it 'raining frogs' ?  You know, shit like that ! "

I love my wife's smile. I love the five humans, who call me Father. I fell out of a tavern, and down concrete steps.  It hurt ! I hate war (a boastful, senseless, excursion). I think God is the Air, Water, and Earth. Yes, I suppose that makes me a Pagan. I am, politically, independent--the verb, not the noun ! ***REVIEWS*** Local Author Turn Out Book Bobby Wilson Verse, art, history and geography. Sharon Rexroth has included all four in her third and latest offering in her "From the Sky" book series, dedicated to providing kids with a learning experience. And that's what "America from the Sky" is, an educational children's story by Rexroth, with illustrations by her sister–in–law Lee–Ann Paaseh which uses an eagle named Liberty as a guide. Speaking in verse, Liberty, the country's national symbol, flies over the land of the free, describing its beauties and wonders and providing informational tidbits against a background of vividly colored watercolor illustrations which capture the beauty and significance of the locales depicted. Readers visit the Great Lakes, a mall in Minnesota, St. Louis and the Dakotas, as well as a number of other locations which, Rexroth said, "make you proud to be an American." It concludes with the tragedy of 9/11. She said the person responsible for placing books at airport gift shops across the country has indicated he's interested in placing them in such venues. Rexroth will be signing books from 1 to 3 p.m. today at the Iowa Store at the Port of Burlington. The coil–bound book sells for $9.95. Also available are Rexroth's two previous books in the series, "Iowa From the Sky," also illustrated by Paasch, and "Ohio from the Air," illustrated by Anita Lee. Inez Metzger illustrated "Illinois from the Air," which has yet to be published. Rexroth, a graduate of Iowa Wesleyan College, is a financial service representative for Allstate. She also is a substitute teacher in the Burlington and West Burlington school districts. Novel by Coleman A drunken newspaper reporter who has fallen from grace into the desperate cycle of his addiction stumbles upon the story of a lifetime while investigating corporate corruption. Such is the basis of the storyline of "Ogallala: The Rise of Morning Sun," a recent novel by Joseph H. Coleman of Burlington, published by PublishAmerica. Coleman was first diagnosed with cancer in 1998. The second time, he spent 85 days in the hospital, and on one of those nights he is certain he died. It was at that time that he began writing in earnest.

---

rating of:

Eddie Carter is an alcoholic newspaper reporter who has fallen from grace into the desperate cycle of his addictions.

On his way down, he stumbles upon the story of a lifetime while investigating corporate corruption.

His story is in pieces when he meets Alina Feigner Lajoie, a young Romanian genius who works for one of the big six corporations. Eddie finds a vendetta between Corporate, the government, and the rebel governor of Nebraska, John Morning Sun Gall, a Lakota Sioux Indian.

Gall has risen to power from the Sand Hills of Nebraska and revived the Nebraska economy, while the rest of the American economy goes downhill.

Eddies secret spawns jealousy and hatred from the government that both fears Galls working-man ethic, and wants him killed because of the charismatic adoration his people have for him.

Eddie is sent to Nebraska to weed out the pieces of the story, but he finds out that he is much more than just a newspaper reporter.

---

Ogallala: The Rise of Morning Sun Joseph H. Coleman

Eddie Carter is an alcoholic newspaper reporter who has fallen from grace into the desperate cycle of his addictions. On his way down, he stumbles upon the story of a lifetime while investigating corporate corruption. His story is in pieces when he meets Alina Feigner Lajoie, a young Romanian genius who works for one of the “big six” corporations. Eddie finds a vendetta between Corporate, the government, and the rebel governor of Nebraska, John “Morning Sun” Gall, a Lakota Sioux Indian. Gall has risen to power from the Sand Hills of Nebraska and revived the Nebraska economy, while the rest of the American economy goes downhill. Eddie’s secret spawns jealousy and hatred from the government that both fears Gall’s working-man ethic, and wants him killed because of the charismatic adoration his people have for him. Eddie is sent to Nebraska to weed out the pieces of the story, but he finds out that he is much more than just a newspaper reporter.

 

Hi Mr. Squabbler !
     How nice it is to finally meet you at long last !

     Where, may I ask, were you born and raised ?
     
     
 

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...or Long Island, New York.
    That's the little fish-shaped sliver of land that sticks out into the ocean next to the Big Apple.

 

A lot of people who visit think of Long Island as one long,

crowded road, but that's not true.

There are several long, crowded roads - not just the one.

 

 

 

Now, you know that there are some 'Lucy' questions

that she wants us to ask.

 

I will start with those and then add some of Whisper's that

I thought were good.

 

Well, the first Lucy question is:

  Name 5 CD's you have in your changer right now.

 

 

 

     I happen to have a 5 CD changer, but it’s empty right now.

Suppose I tell you what 5 CD’s are likely to be in it?

 

 

 

 

     That would be fine......

 

 

 

  Santana III (that would be Santana’s third album)

 

 

    Jupiter Circle “Shade Songs”

 

 

     Soulfly “Prophesy”

 

 

     King Crimson “Islands”

 

 

 

    Miles Davis “Blue Miles”

 

Wow. Those sound great.

I know Santana and of course, Miles Davis, but I haven't heard

of Soulfly "Prophesy".

 

I think you might know me well enough at this point, John,

to know that I would like to hear that. 

 

 

     Soulfly you are not going to like, POH.

It's rather aggressive, and their manner of praise is sprinkled

with some language not ordinarily associated with civil discourse,

much less the worship variety.

 

But they're individualists, like me,

trying to make their way in a weird world.

 

 

 

     All of your selections are very interesting.

 

Okay, here's another "five" question:

      What 5 bloggers would you want to meet and why?

 

   

 

     Meet?

Can’t I keep my illusions ?

 

 

 

 

No.

*winks*

 

 

 

 

 

Well, that’s easy.
The people who started commenting right away – in the first week.

If I had to narrow it down to five, though…

I guess it’s not so easy all of a sudden.

     Sherry of Sherries Cherries, definitely.

She just came right into the comments section and

said hello right at the beginning.

She helped me figure out a few technical things.

I think she started telling people,

‘Hey, go read what this crazy guy has to say".

I know we’re friends because we’re very different and

yet we get along so well.

 

 

 

    Yeah, Sherry sure is friendly, isn't she ?

 

 

 

 TTR because I Trust the Rust.

   I have a picture of him in my mind.
    I’m pretty sure he would resemble it in person.

   He’s sincere, creative, full of compassion, and really a seeker.

     Besides, he gives me the most overwhelming compliments !

 

Indubitable Paradox by Trust the Rust

 

I don't know him. He has an interesting name.

Gotta love those compliments !

 

 

 

     Prank, for sure, and I can’t put my finger on why.

     We’re both very positive and sensitive people.

  No kidding. I like a quick and ready wit – sense of humor.

   We’re both observers and recorders of inner life and outer life.

I just get this impression that if I was still drinking he’d be

someone I could have a Guiness with.

 

 

 

    Prank is a great blogger.

 Everybody knows Mr.Happy.......er, I mean, the Prankster.

 

 

*winks and smiles sheepishly*

 

 

    I haven’t met you yet – at least not in person.

Can I say that?

    Is this thing on? Testing, testing…

 

 

 

    Oh, we've met, Mr. Squabbler.

At least in all the ways that matter.

The rest is just outward appearance and

who cares about that, right ?

 

 

 

 

And why ? 

Well, because we’d have a blast, of course.

   Tons of reasons.

 

 

   You know it, John T. Squabbler.

Little POH is all about having a blast ! 

 

 

 

    I’d like to have coffee with Ron of Radicaldiscipleship

because I think he would like to have coffee with me.

There would be some real conversation at that event.

He actually reminds me of someone I know –

even has the same name.

 

 

 

    Oh, my goodness, who would NOT like to have coffee with AZRON?
     You have to love him and his very gracious and hospitable wife, 

JUNE. 

 

 

 

 

    Wait, that’s five already and I’m not done.

 I’d like to go all ‘round downtown Manhattan with Purple Fly.

 

 

 

     Great pick!  I love Purplefly ! 

 

 

 

   And Biggie too.

 

 

  Oh my, Biggie the T-ster.......he is the MAN, isn't he ?
   Well, you know what I mean !

*wink, wink*

 

 

 

   We’d find some decent music between us.

Can you imagine ?

 

 

    Actually, I can imagine, John.

What a great party that would be ! 

 

 

 

   I’d like to listen to Rosie’s Australian accent.

 

 

   

 Yeah, it's purty......

Well, I was gonna say, sexy, but then again I'm POH

and people tell me that Little POH isn't allowed to say

things like that.

 

 I do believe Lucy has a recording of Rosie's voice

in her archives somewhere.

 

   And I'm going to have to add Shoutoutgirl now,

and Big Chris, and your buddy, Mr. Ornery - what a sense of humor -

so I'm going way over my limit.

 

  

    Oh, what the heck –

why don’t we just hire out a convention center smack dab

in the middle of the country?

 

We could have everybody there.

We could have panels, seminars, parties,

plot world domination, whatever.

 

 

    Hey ! That's what Art M. and I have been saying for months !

Let's do it !

 

You, Zappa and Biggie will bring the music, right ? Bring it !

 

 

 

Cuban Husband and Lucy are officially

the Host and Hostess extraordinaire, how 'bout dat ?

 Favorite alcoholic beverage ?

 

 

     Well, I never met a drink I didn’t like,

and I guess that’s why I don’t drink.

 

I haven’t had a drink in six years.

 

I used to like Irish whiskey quite a lot –

no, much more than quite a lot.

 But after 30 drinks everything tastes the same.

 

Hard to pick a favorite there…

 

 

 

    Ha-ha, Mr. Squabbler

      *roly face*

 

Well, Little POH doesn't drink either for the very same reason.

I just recognized the problemo after the first and only time

I got drunk and ended up......oh, never mind....

 

So, you're saying you don't drink NOW, right?
     

 

 

 

     No, I don't drink now. It wouldn't be considerate of me to drink.
     There'd be none left for the rest of the world if I did -

and that just wouldn't be fair.

 

 

 

   What is your nationality ?

 

 

  American.

 

 

  Well, I heard tell you have a little European in you...

     Something about Long Island and Manhattan....

you know...
   

 

Nope, just American.

 

     What is the last book you read ?

 

 

 

 

     Well, this is a week ahead and I read about four or five books a week, but as of now I’m finishing ..

Joyce Carol Oates “Son of the Morning,”

and I’m about to break into the mysteries of

S.J. Perelman, “The Road to Miltown,”

      which appears to be a compilation of essays,

presumably humorous.

 

 

 

I buy books by the box-full at auctions, estate sales, etc.

I’ve collected several thousands.

When I finish one I put my bookplate in it and mark it with my initials.

That way I don’t read them twice.

 

  So, THAT'S why I can't keep up with you when I talk to you.

I like Joyce Carol Oates too.

 

Can I come browse your library?

 

 

    
     You can come catalogue my library if you like.

I still haven't got it all in order, but I use a system based on

the thickness of the dust on the books.

    I know at least how long it is since I've had one down

by studying the dust.

 

 

    Sorry for this next question, John...

*winks at Lucy, asks question, waits for answer and winces*

     What is the color of your underwear ?

 

 

 

 

At the moment ?

 

 

 

    Uhhhhh......

 

 

 

Sort of caucasian fleshy color with manifest imperfections.

 

Imperfections? Whaaaaa ?

 

 

 

  Yeah, I'm a white guy, so I have freckles and all that.

     If you were to rifle through my drawer, however, (or drawers?),
     you would find rather conservative boxers

and a few dark black and blue Y fronts.

 

The type I wear depends on the trousers,

what would be most comfortable.

 

 

    Okay, that was probably more than I wanted to know....

    What is your middle name ?

 

MY NAME IS

 

 

 

 Hilda.

 

 

     Whaaa ? Nooo !

Is THAT why you call yourself  'a silly girl' sometimes ?

If it's not, please explain.......*wink*

         What is your favorite curse word ? 

 

 

 

    I don’t really have one.

Sometimes I’ll let out with a ‘Holy Schmack !’

 

 

 

 

 

Ha-ha !

 

 

 

 

    Because it has such a nice NY Yiddish ring to it,

   but I was taught that substitutions such as ‘frig’ or ‘heck,’ ‘dang,’

      are really exactly the same as the vulgarity they represent.

 

 I’ll go with those too sometimes,

but it’s ‘skimming’ on the disrespectful,

and I have to be sure the listener is in a jovial enough mood

to accept it in the spirit it’s offered.

 

The use of curse words, in general, indicates a lack of character.

 

My blasphemy can be appalling, though !

When my children were born,

their mother and I got into the habit of exclaiming

 ‘God bless America!’

 instead of blaspheming outright, but really…

 

 

   Oooooo, I LOVE that !

I will have to remember that, to use in front of my children...

God bless America !

    Okay, here's a good one for ya:

   What noise or sound do you like ?

 

 

 

 

    I love the sound of people’s voices, different accents, laughter.

     Natural sounds – birds and such.

Coyotes on a chilly night.
     Someone playing Mozart in another room.

The sound of dogs barking over the hill,

Distant chainsaws in the Fall.

The Subway sounds, The Tube sounds.

 

All kinds of sounds emit their pleasure rays.

 

 

  What a GREAT answer, John, seriously.

I will have to remember that you said,

"All kinds of sounds emit their pleasure rays"

 

I'll add it to my John T. Squabbler quote book I've started.

     What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

 

 

 

     It would be easier to answer, what doesn’t ?

I had a girlfriend in college....

 

 

  *thinks, wait a minute......did I ask the question right ? ....winces*

 

 

 

     ....who once gave me a birthday card in which she had written:

 

‘The littlest things delight and amaze you.’

 

That stuck with me.

 It began to occur to me that I perceive the world a little differently.

 

 

  *thinks "pheeeeuuuwwwww! I guess I did !

Dabs demurely at forehead and chest with hankie*

 

Just by the little bit I've gotten to know you John,

I would say that girl is right.

You do take great joy in the little things.....

and that's a good thing, you silly girl, you.

 

 

   I’m creatively turned on by other people’s creations.

 

All reading, all music, all movies, plays, poetry –

it’s all a form of sharing creativity; it’s all inspiring, or can be.

     The same things can be emotional turn-ons, too.

 

I’m not sure about the spiritual, though.

 I don’t see it as a separate category.

 Life is spiritual by its nature, and all things rebound to that spirit

within that resembles the love of our Creator.

 

I’m deeply religious, but I don’t go to church for the experience;

I go to be fed the Bread of Life.

 

 If I happen to enjoy the Liturgy or the music

– and I love liturgical music –

That’s entertainment, same as a Broadway show.

I appreciate it as art.
     Sure it uplifts the Spirit. Art does. That’s what it’s for.

 

 

 

 

  Well, you MUST know POH just LOVES this answer.

Gotta love that Bread of Life !

    What profession other than your own would like to attempt ?

 

 

 

     You’re gonna laugh, and I don’t blame you.

 

 

Awwww, I wouldn't laugh at you, Mr. Squabbler...

 

     I’d like to work in Funeral Services.

 

 

     A-haa-haaa-haaaaa........ooops.........sorry,
     I didn't mean it, honest !

 

*lowers head, covers mouth with hand, all that can be seen is

Little POH's shoulders convulsing uncontrollably with

an occasional snorting sound escaping...*

 

 

    It requires reducing one’s own personality and serving people with respect and solemnity at a most important

and stressful time in their lives.

 

 I’ve loved being in service.

I’ve loved being the butler, the porter, the custodian, the consierge,

 the bartender, the guy at the sales desk.

I’ve even been a salesman.

 

These jobs put me into contact with people in a way where they’re the ‘boss.’

 

 I have a massive ego, and it absolutely loves being reduced.

It gives me pleasure to serve.

 

  Awwww, I really am sorry, John, you lift that job up into

the spiritual realm, seriously.

 

Wait a minute, you have a massive ego ?
     I haven't gotten that from you.

 

 

 

    Well, I have a self-effacing and ironic sense of humor.

That's one of the hallmarks of the big ego.

I love to deflate my ego, but I'm not at war with it.

 

Deflating the ego is good because it allows us to see reality without getting in our own way.

When we pray that happens.

 I have a friend who’s a caterer, and she often asks me to help out.

 I love being on the other side of that table.

 

 I think being responsible for carrying out a family’s wishes

for their departed loved ones in a courteous,

respectful fashion is a noble occupation.

 

The whole idea is not to be remembered by them,

but to be invisible to the memory,

 to form no greater impression,

so as not to detract from the solemnity of the event.

 

 

     Wow, you are a true servant. Honestly.

I see a few moral lessons for POH in there.

Wow.

   What occupation or profession would you not want to do ?

 

 

 

     Tree surgeon, roofer, housepainter,

anything requiring ladders and heights.

I’m not acrophobic.  It’s not heights I’m afraid of.

    It’s falling I’m afraid of. I don’t want to fall. It hurts.

 

Well, the falling doesn’t hurt.

It’s what happens when you’re finished falling that hurts.

 

 

   Didn't you fall off of a roof recently?

Tell us about that John.

 

 

 

 

    

 

     Sure, I fell off a roof last week - week before.

There's not much to tell. I'm right as rain now.

It's like it never happened.

 

I think the first thing I mentioned about it in my blog was

that it was a head rush.

So I guess it was fun, really. No worries.

 

 

 

    If Heaven exists, what would you like God

to say to you when you arrive ?

 

 

 

     I’d like Him to say,

“There you are – what took you so long?"

 

 

 

 

   Oh, that is a GREAT answer !

I want him to say that to me too, John.

 If you could live anywhere, in any time period,

where and when would it be ?

 

 

 

     I’m already here and now, and that’ll do.

 

 

 

    Awesome answer. I like that.

 

 

     I’m not entirely pleased with everything about my time and place,
     but that would be true anyway,

no matter where or when I was, am, will be.

 

 I do enjoy old movies from the 30’s and 40’s.

I know that my manners, my values, and a lot of my attitudes are formed in that time, and I’m quite comfortable with

older people who lived it.

 

 

 

     I can see that.

 

 

   I don’t really connect with most people my own age.

 

 

 

   So, THAT'S why you and I get along so well.....

it's the age difference !

 

 

 

     Come now, POH -

You're older than me by no more than a few years.
     And years are like days when you're over 40,

so we're really the same age.

 

But you're a woman.

I should say more specifically I don't connect with men my own age.

We have so little it common.

 

I like guys in their 70's and 80's, 90's.

We share values guys my age don't seem to have.

 

They lived in the 1930's and the war years. 

What a great time that was to be an American !

 

But there were these horrible human monsters in the world,

people consumed by Evil –

Hitler, Stalin, and later, Mao.

Genocide was everywhere.

 

 I think we beat the devil himself, at least won a major battle,
    because of the character we possessed then as a people.

 

By and large, we don’t have that anymore.

We have a whole generation of cowardly worms in charge of our culture right now.

 

 

    Gee, Mr. Squabbler, why don't you tell us how you REALLY feel?

     *wink*

 

    Well, people can say

"What are you doing up there on your high horse?"

     I say to them,

"What are you doing down there in the mud?"

  But every time period, and every place,

has its miracles and its tragedies,

 its good points and bad points.

 

 So, I’m happy here and now.

 It’s where I belong.

 

 

 

     And we are very glad to have you here and now.

You belong on the Blogstream with us.

Great answer.

     What five things that you have done in your life

you are you most proud of ?

 

 

 

    Five again. What’s up with the number five ?

 

 

 

 

 Uhhhhmmmm, Lucy has a thing for five ?

I DON'T KNOW, just answer the question please....

 

 

     I’m not proud of anything I’ve done.

Let me change that word to ‘grateful’ then I can answer.

 

 

     Oh, John, what a thing to do......

I like that.....

 

 

     I’m grateful for my children, the fact that I can be a Dad,

maybe a decent one.

They’ll let me know one day if I have been.

     I’m grateful for the way I’ve been able to overcome difficulties,
     both the real and the self-created ones.

    I’m grateful that there are people who think I do a good job,

and want me back, ask for me by name – name of my company.

     I’m grateful that people here on blogstream

seem to enjoy my writing.

A little overwhelmed by it, though.

 I don’t value it much.

 

 I do it because I have to. I always have.

 It’s goofy writing – that’s all.

“An ill-mannered thing, but my own.”

It fills me up in such a way that I have to be very careful

to avoid pride, at all costs.

     I’m grateful that I’ve managed to live this long against such odds,

with God’s grace sustaining me.

 

 I’m grateful for every day I wake up

 – in the sense you mean by ‘pride,’

 because it’s an achievement for me.

 I achieved another day of life.

For many that’s a thing taken for granted.

I used to be able to do that.

I can’t anymore.

 Every day really is a new beginning.

 

 I know it’s a cliché.

I’m just a silly girl.

 

    Oh, that was a wonderful answer, John.

 I am humbled for not having thought of it myself.

 

 

 

 

Just a little note to say thank you to all those who have stuck with me this week with my re-post of Sweet Annie...

I will take the weekend off to celebrate our favorite day of the year and hoepfully continue on Tuesday, I hope to finish this time.

For those who haven't read it...it started last Monday.

Thank you so much everyone and love to you all...

 

 

Cut and copy a quote and PM it to me..

At the end of the year we will vote for funniest quote.

Q - Do you have a piano in your house/who plays it ?
A - NO. The only instrument I play, is mine.

Q - Do people say or spell your name wrong?
A - No. Most people are pretty good at saying and spelling, "prick".

MAJOR O'PAIN

 

Q - Who was that masked man?
A - It was Whit 

I'm telling you... that man's got secrets !!

Mc KRISTIN

 

Q - Favorite cracker ?
A - Uncle

WHISPERED O'PROMISES

 

Q - Last evil thing you looked at ?
A - My ass ? Nooooo that was a monkeys ass ?

No wonder it was red ... Damn Baboons !

POLAR Mc BEAR

 

Q - If your life were a movie, what would it be called ?
A - On Golden Blonde

Mc RANDY

Q - Mc Randy has....
A - A blood cannon and a diarrhea mackerel,

just the sort of things to make every gal swoon.

O'SHERRY

Q - Who was that masked man?

A - Probably the guy Dick Cheney shot in the face.

Mc FUZZY

 

CELTIC Mc MIST

O' BELLA

 

O'BELLE

 

FOR A LITTLE DANNY BOY CLICK HERE

Use your cursor to write...

 

First part - Monday

Second part - Tuesday

Third part - Wed

Fourth part - Thursday

...to be continued until I finish...

 

Thank you so much for all of the public and private comments.

I appreciate them so much...it's amazing how most of us have gone through the same pain.

I'll respond to all of the comments when I am done, I just want to get through this...thank you so much.

Much love - Lucy

 

A CHANGE IN ME

Besides all of the anger I felt towards the world, I started to neglect myself and my family.  I became severely depressed and pulled away from everyone except Cuban Husband. 

Here we were just married, a beautiful little baby boy and on top of the world and then it all came crashing down around us like the waves we enjoyed on vacation just months before. 

I must say, he was my rock.  I would come home everyday and vent and at night drink.  I had to, it was the only way I could cope.  Not drinking to get drunk but to unwind and unleash and just cry.  I cried and cried and cried.  I talked constantly about my days with Annie.  I constantly appolgized and he said why?  You didn't sign up for this.  I'm just glad I got to know her....

I was completely obsessed with her and making her more comfortable in her pain.  He never complained, not once.  As much as he hated for me to cry all the time, he allowed me to.  I have learned that not everyone gives you that consideration.  Again, it makes people uncomfortable.  Too bad.

I started having panic attacks, not sleeping and gaining weight.  At our "big party" in June, I weighed about 130 lbs. this just weeks after having a baby. I ballooned up to 200 lbs. and I am still working on losing it.  I didn't want to shower, I stopped wearing make-up, I just didn't care about these things anymore.  I certainly was not the woman my husband married.  He never complained, actually being Cuban he liked my new curves. 

My mother still says the last time she saw me happy was at that party.

I didn't want to leave the house anymore except for taking care of Annie everyday.  I avoided the supermarket for fear of someone asking me how she was doing.  I was in tears constantly. 

I still have those days but few and far between.  It's times like this, the month of March that get me going reliving certain moments over and over in my head.

I didn't enjoy anything anymore.  Countless nights my husband made love to me in the dark, unknowing I had tears rolling down my face. 

Why should I feel any kind of happiness when my best friend was in so much pain and facing death?  I felt tremendous guilt. 

I know my daughters suffered through this as well.  Mommy is always crying. 

 

STROLLERS AND WHEELCHAIRS

It got to a certain point when the cancer spread to Annie's brain.  She had two laser brain surgeries.  After that it spread to her hip.  She first walked with a cane with assistance from me and then a wheelchair.  When it got too hard for me to push her with her wheelchair for chemo and radiation and other treatments while pulling a baby stroller behind me through hospital corridors, Rose was there to help me and Annie. 

If anyone ever knew someone with brain cancer, depending on where it is it can change their personality.  Sometimes poor Annie heard voices or said something strange out of the blue.  I never called her out on it.  I never wanted to embarrass her.  It was kinda like in her drinking days.  I always protected her from herself.

 

MY CONSTANT FEAR

I was in a constant state of anxiety.  I would arrive at her home early in the morning and let myself in.  Sometimes Annie was within view, sometimes not.  I always panicked.  Where is she? Is she dead somewhere in the house?  What if she is and I am holding the baby, will he fall down her stairs?  Where is the phone?

It was even worse when I walked in and she was lying on her couch.  I would quietly walk up to her to see if she was breathing.  I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

My panic attacks became worse.  My doctor prescribed me Xanax which I quickly shared with Rose and Annie's husband.  After that he prescribed me Ambien a sleep aid. I still thank God for those sleeping pills.

If Annie got bad news on a particular day, as soon as her husband walked in the door, she would say, "Have a Xanax and a glass of wine."  This was his cue it was another bad day.  Again, she worried more for others than herself.

 

CIGARETTES

Annie quit for awhile but when she knew it was almost over she asked me for a cigarette one day.  Her nerves were shot.  I said of course. 

It was like Rose, I and Cuban Husband were drug smugglers trying to get her cigarrettes.  Annie would call us on the phone in a hushed voice in code:

Hello is this Papa Bear?  This is Momma Bear, the coast is clear.

This meant we could sneak her cigarrettes.........

She would often call me from the hospital to run her over some very early in the morning and through out the day.  The hospital was only about 10 minutes away so I made this trip often.  She befriended the night nurses and convinced them to wheel her outside for a quick smoke during the night. 

Rose's husband offered to go to Paterson to buy her some pot at one point.  We heard this helped terminally ill cancer patients with pain management.  She just laughed and said no thanks.  Our minds were always ticking, we would do anything for her.

She was very embarrassed by this, smoking again, but what ever helped her deal with facing death, I was going to do for her.

We all tried to quit smoking when she was diagnosed with lung cancer.  None of us succeeded on a long term basis.  If the smoking didn't kill us the stress was going to.

If she wasn't so naseus I would have offered her a beer too.  I think if I were in her situation, I would have drank myself into the grave.  But she was strong and never touched alcohol.  She couldn't being on marijuana pills, morphine, oxycontin and other pain meds on top of all of the rest of numerous meds. 

Just to show you the kind of person she was..........one day I picked up her prescriptions.  She noticed how much they cost, almost $1,000 for just one prescription.  She had insurance of course and didn't have to pay it but was furious at the thought of those who had to do without this pain med because of lack of insurance.  She was infuriated that people were suffering.

 

SOMETIMES WE DID LAUGH

I tried to make light of the situation with Annie.  In the beginning, I said look at it this way, if ya get pulled over by the police just say you have cancer!  If the line at the supermarket is too long, just cut in front of everyone, hey, I have cancer here!  We laughed at all of the situations she could use this excuse for.

As I said, Annie NEVER swore, but with cancer she developed a mouth like a truck driver.  She would be so angry at something and start dropping F bombs all over the place, trickled with Mother this and Mother that.  No matter what the situation, I would start belly laughing which only pissed her off even more.  It was just shocking to hear and so fucking funny !  It just didn't fit her - kinda like a nun saying shit.  One day her husband wispered to me, "ya know she said motherfucker last night?".   I just cracked up.  They had been married since teens, and he never heard these words come out of her mouth.

Annie's husband belonged to a Presbyterian Church in town.  Annie, I and Rose were brought up Catholic.  The church decided to have a prayer circle for Annie's healing.  Rose had to drag her husband with her and I had to drag CH too...... kicking and screaming.  Annie and her husband were there as well as fellow parishoners.  The guys were not into it but did what ever they could to help.  During this beautiful prayer circle a few people starting talking in tongues.  Now Rose and I know what that is but our husbands did not.  It took all we could from not opening our eyes and seeing them with a look of shock and confusion on their faces. 

Rose and I managed to hold in our laughter until we were in the car. The guys asked what the hell was that?  What were they saying?  What were those noises, that clicking noise with their tongues?  Are they crazy?  I think they were scared and the more they talked the more we laughed.

Annie could not spell.  She had the most beautiful penmanship and always wrote thank yous for her flowers and such but couldn't spell for crap.

One day I was looking at her calendar to see what we had planned for the upcoming week.  On certain days she wrote out KEMO.  I still laugh when I think of it.  Hey, that's how it sounds!  I never corrected her.  Again protecting her.

This isn't funny but Rose and I prayed to Padre Pio often.  My father sent away for rosary beads with holy water in it from Lourdes.  We lit candles and prayed often. 

We tried everything.  I even researched holistic medicine.   Herbs, aromatherapy..........anything.

Rose would often say she would sell her own soul to Satan himself to save Annie. 

I often thought if I could just take away her pain for just one day to give her relief I would take it myself.

 

LOSING OUR RELIGION AND HAIR TOO

With the loss of hope came the loss of hair.  Like I said Annie had an innocence about her which made it easy for me to sometimes not tell her things, to shield her from the inevitable.  Every day she would tell me she was losing hair and I would say no you're not.  One day we were sitting out on the porch and I saw clumps of hair on her shirt.  I brushed them away saying she had leaves on her.  I knew it was time.

The day came when it was time to get a wig.  I took her and we liked the very first one she tried on.  We thought about dreadlocks but decided on the first one instead.........laughing. 

The wonderful woman at the store gently suggested maybe she should shave her head.  Annie asked me what did I think.  I said take control of the situation and shave it.  Don't let it fall out on it's own terms and upset you.  Annie was not a vain person, but it hurt her. 

We held hands and squeezed and closed our eyes and just cried as we heard the buzzing noise.  I kept reassuring her it's just hair, it's just hair.

I seriously thought of buzzing my own hair right then and there.  I quickly realized that my family who was concerned about me would really think I lost my mind.  Annie would have been pissed too. 

So, the wig went on and she only looked at her head once with me and Rose.  Rose and I decided she had a beautiful bald head and looked like Nephrodite.  Annie of course asked who the heck was that.......?

She also went through steroid treatments and ballooned up in a matter of a week.  She had a bloated face, stomach and feet.  Nothing fit her and her skin hurt from the stretching so quickly.  This was a woman who only gained 10 lbs total with her pregnancy.  Her poor little body went through so much.

 

This photo is of Rose and Annie.  It was taken on Annie's 42nd birthday, it would be her last birthday- July 31, 2003. 

Usually she spent her birthday on the beach but couldn't make the ride down the shore with all of the pain she was in.  Her family did not accomodate her needs and called her a Sarah Vaughn.  ( I think that was her name) 

For instance they denied her air conditioning because it was too expensive they said.   I would plead with Annie's husband on a daily basis to please get a railing in the shower.  He bitched about every penny.  Here I go again getting of topic because of those in denial.

She is wearing her new wig and Rose and I did her makeup in the picture.  The steroids made her face puffy.  It's also the last picture I have of her, she wouldn't let me take anymore after this one.  I thought she still looked so pretty.

We went to the Irish Catholic store this day and lunch at our favorite cafe.  This was our usual routine for St. Patrick's Day.  We wouldn't have anymore of those.

 

MEN ARE NOT NURTURERS

When things got unbearable Annie often told me I was the only one who made her feel better.  We were the chicken soup friends.  Through all of our years if one of us was sick the other made chicken soup or mashed potatos with gravy..........hey it's an Irish thing between us!

I always tried to make her as comfortable as possible.  She went through hot and cold flashes in a blink of an eye and I was there with the cold packs and heating pads in a pinch.  Her body was cold but her feet were hot, I was on it.   Cold rags or hot rags on her forehead...........anything she needed.

Rose and I bought her a beautiful Irish afghan like the one I have that she admired so much.  We'd bring her outside in the sunlight that she so loved and wrapped her up like a baby. 

Towards the end I would go to her and put on soothing music and turn on her waterfalls statue.  I would put cream on her feet and gently massage them.  This always seemed to work.  Sometimes whe wanted to talk, sometimes we would do this for an hour or so with no words spoken. 

I felt privelaged to do this.  Jesus washed feet in the bible I thought to myself. 

Her husband did not do this for her, I guess he just didn't know how.  Us women have an inate abilitly to feel each other's pain, it's maternal and comes easy with no words.

 

 TEENAGERS ARE SELFISH

What hurt Annie the most I think in the end was her relationship with her daughter (and mother, but that is tomorrow).  Since the day her daughter was born, Annie was an alcoholic.  They never bonded.   It was she and Daddy against drunk Mommy.

When Annie became sober she became a mother and a strict disciplinarian.  Her daughter resented her sudden authority.

When Annie was diagnosed with cancer, I think her daughter resented her again.  More abandonment.  There was always a friction between them. 

I was the referee with their fights sometimes.  Sometimes Annie was wrong and sometimes her daughter was wrong.  I completely understood both of them and how they felt towards each other.  I tried so hard to get them to come together, to become close, to really know each other. 

In the end they never did reconcile.  Her daughter was only 16.  It saddens me to know that she never got to know her mother the way I did.   They were both so stubborn that even in the end there was bitterness.  I hope her daughter does not feel guilt down the road, it really was not her fault.

 

THE CONVERSATION

Towards the end Annie was in and out of the hospital.  Funny how hospitals spit out the terminally ill.  For the most part she preferred home but when the cancer spread into her other organs she wanted to go into the hospital..............to die.  She felt like a burden.

One day I decided I would have to ask Annie some very difficult questions.  She was sitting on her favorite chair and me on another.  We just watched the Ya-Ya Sisterhood movie and had a good cry.  We both knew our dreams of growing old by the ocean were not going to happen.  We were never going to dig our pedicured feet into the sand with the mist of the ocean in our faces.  We will never walk the beach in search of seashells.

I was nursing the baby and just point out asked her with a lump in my throat, what do you want Annie?  She knew what I meant.  She wouldn't look at me.

Immediately, she said no flowers, flowers die.  I want my daughter to go to college and get her teaching degree; tell them to donate the money to her in a trust fund to be set up, I want her to have my car and I want my ashes spread into the ocean.  One long quick sentence, like pulling off a band aid.

She answered so quickly, I knew she gave this thought before.  I had told her numerous times that I understood she didn't sleep well at night and must have felt lonely and scared and to please call me in those dark moments when our minds are our own enemy. 

She never did, but with the speed she answered my simple question, I knew she stayed up at night thinking of these things. 

As usual she didn't ask for much.   As usual she worried about me.  She didn't look at me when she said these things and then simply got up with her walker and slowly made her way outside. 

She knew how hard it was for me to ask her.  She knew I needed to cry, she allowed me that.  I know she appreciated that someone, finally someone had the courage to ask her.

When she returned I asked her another question.  Would you like me to buy some cards for your daughter?  For her wedding day, for the birth of her first child, for her graduation...........Christmas?  You can write them out and seal them and at these times I will give them to her.  Would you like me to help you make a video tape for her? 

She simply said, I don't think so. 

I guess I crossed the line, I guess this was too hard for her.  I was asking  too much from her.

She did however ask her husband to buy 3 bracelets her last Christmas, almost a year before she died.  One for her, her mother and sister.  They were beautiful gold bracelets with seashells on them and sand stars.  Hers was to go to her daughter some day.  No one knew how soon it would be.  She felt that this was a bond with them.  I guess she thought this was enough. 

Yeah, I did feel a little left out.  But in the end it felt as if it were just the two of us when it really mattered.

 

This is all I can do right now, it's too painful.............

I'll try later to correct my spelling and maybe put in more pictures of my friend.  I love and miss her every day.

Tomorrow, I will share the last days..........more tissues.

Thank you again for reading such a long post..........it means a lot to me that you took the time to get to know Sweet Annie through my eyes.  I love you all for that.

She would have loved this blogstream, she was the people person, not me.

 

More Irish Sayings and Blessings

 

There are good ships, and there are wood ships, the ships that sail the sea.

But the best ships are friendships, and may they always be.

 

A toast to your coffin.

May it be made of 100 year old oak.

And may we plant the tree together, tomorrow.

 

 

May you be in heaven 1/2 hour before the devil knows you're dead.

May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent.

 

May you alway walk in sunshine.

May you never want for more.

May Irish angels rest their wings right beside your door

May your neighbors respect you,

Troubles neglect you,

The angels protect you,

And Heaven accept you.