I Use To Think I was Invisible.

Through most of my life I have felt invisible, almost as of I am nothing more than a thread of existence that dwindles in the air. It always amazes me to find out someone thought of me or wondered about me or brought me up in conversation. All my life I’ve felt as if I didn’t really matter that much to most people. I know my brother loves me and my mom and dad and some aunts and some other family and friends, but I have most often felt like it wouldn’t matter if I weren’t here. I try to fight that feeling most of the time because I do enjoy life, but sometimes someone says or does something that knocks one back into a memory that brings them full circle. This week has been that kind of week for me. A memory that ran through my mind so clearly was the first death that meant anything to me. I am lucky I suppose to say that didn’t occur until I was sixteen years old, but then are we lucky to know the sting of death at any age? Perhaps it would have been easier had I known more about it and been prepared. My grandmother Lula, my dad’s mom, died on November 27, 1983. I was sixteen years of age and I felt like my entire world had fallen apart. I remember that Thanksgiving being somber because my grandmother was in the hospital. We had planned to leave the day after to go and see her. My dad didn’t think it wise to try to drive on the holiday itself. The drive to the hospital in Kentucky, I believe it was Lexington (if memory serves), was a quiet one. We arrived late evening and walked into the Cardio ICU waiting lounge where my uncle announced that my grandmother was gone. Not completely though. She had no brain activity and the hospital had to wait for her blood pressure to drop to be able to take her off life support. I stood back from everyone else and watched as they hugged and cried and talked. I don’t know how long went by. I remember my aunt trying over and over again to get me to go see my grandmother to say good bye. I remember thinking so many things. One being that God could not be so cruel as to take her away before I had a chance to marry and give her grand children, or even to know of my graduation. What was there to say good bye too went through my mind as well? If she was brain dead she wasn’t there. I didn’t’ want to. Saturday afternoon I let them talk me into it though. It was the worst mistake of my life and I have regretted it to this day. I went in to find a shell of a woman. She was very thin, not the plump figure of a woman I remembered. There were tubes everywhere. Her eyes twitched and a tear was in the corner of one eye. Her fingers moved. It was extremely confusing in my mind to reconcile that all this was caused by the machines that kept her body warm. We had been told that it could be a week or better before they could remove her from life support so we left for home the next day on Sunday. It was storming outside which suited my mood. We got home to a phone call saying they had removed her so the next day on Monday we made the journey all the way back. We got there late evening. I had never been to a funeral home that I recalled until that day. We walked in to find it full of family and friends and again I kept to myself for the most part. People were laughing and talking and I was just getting angrier by the moment. How could they be laughing when my grandmother lay so lifeless and still in a coffin. It took me a couple of years to realize that they were actually honoring her memory with their laughter and conversation. As is with our custom my grandmother was moved to the church the next night for church services and the following day after that there were church services for her funeral as well. Both days I sat by myself and watched as each person had someone to comfort them and help them through, yet I sat alone and tried to remain strong. I felt invisible. I felt as if I was expected to show some decorum of strength. It's haunted me to my very core to this day and it started a long path of my trying to always appear to be strong and never weak. As of late my more human side has been showing though. I remember back to my grandmothers funeral. I believe that was the only time I ever remember to this day seeing my dad cry. I don't feel quiet invisible anymore though there are days I wish I did. I guess life's lessons just have something else in store for me right now because I feel more like I can't ever get out of the site of people right now than that I am invisible. So which is better? Good question.

We Survived...

I suppose a lot of my childhood was just like anyone else’s. I mean my brother and I would stay out until the sun went down either riding our bikes or playing baseball, basketball or cowboys and Indians. My brother and I were extremely close growing up and we still are. For that I am very grateful. I remember very well the carefree days of youth. There were no bills and for the most part no drama. Well, if there was drama we weren’t the wiser for it. I remember making mud pies, literally. I think my mom still has a donut I made out of mud. It hardened and she kept it. My mom is the best on every level. She’s the most caring and kind woman you will ever meet and I could never come close to holding a candle to her compassion and sincerity in her love of people. There are so many fond memories I could share of growing up. I really did have a good childhood. I remember in the summer sleeping until about eight in the morning, getting up and lying in bed and watching “Big Valley” and then after eating a bite of breakfast going out to start the day. Every day was an adventure. We would climb trees, build forts, and play in the bushes. Spies were everywhere and whether it was just my brother and I or a whole gang of kids we never seemed to get bored as today’s children claim to. We were outside until lunch and then inside only long enough to eat. Let me tell you that food was predictable at our house based on the day of the week. If it was Friday for lunch you were most likely having soup and for dinner frozen pizza and pizza rolls. Sunday was a bucket of KFC. Wednesday was McDonalds and so was Saturday on occasion. My dad was really big into routine. He still is. I love my dad and on so many levels he’s a good guy, but I never quiet fit up to his standards in anything. Lord knows I use to try. I gave up. After lunch my brother and I would head back out for more adventure and we would always welcome the mailman. Our neighborhood mailman loved kids and often had candy and would spend time talking to us. He was a good guy. It was sad when he died when I was about eighteen. We would gather the mail and give it to mom then off for more adventure. I’m sure knowing our mom she checked on us, but if she did we weren’t aware of it. As far as we knew she didn’t see us unless we checked in with her. At dinner we went in again to eat and then off again until the sun went down. Life as a child was an all day adventure. Bored? We didn’t know what that was because we knew how to pretend. Today’s children need that too, but most often I fear they are stuck in front of computers, televisions or game systems. Now there is nothing wrong with any of those in moderation but I think it would be sad to miss out on a life of fun and playing because of them. Today’s government probably wonders how we all survived until adulthood. I mean we didn’t have curfews, we played all over the neighborhood and no one had constant view of where we were. Amazing isn’t it how much time has changed. Each generation see’s those types of changes I suppose though. We did get our fair share of bruises and cuts though. I remember once stepping on a board that had a nail sticking out of it. I froze and wouldn’t move and lift my foot off of it so my brother went and got my dad. Funny but I’ve stepped on nails twice in my life… aren’t I lucky? There was another time we were playing touch football and my uncle (whose only 1 year older than me) dived for the football and took out my lower leg. I didn’t break it but it sure swelled up really badly. Then there was also the time I was pitching and my brother was batting and he beamed me in the eye with a baseball. Yeah we had our share of bruises, but it probably just made us tough. I feel sad that I don’t think a lot of children these days are experiencing those things. I have good memories throughout my life, but some of the best are from childhood. What memories do you have that you would share?

Change is Part of Life

I understand people’s nostalgia for times gone by. Really I do, but change is a part of life. It seems more than a few people are upset by the closing of my old high school, Elmhurst. All they talk about is stopping the closure of the school. Part of me can understand that, but I’m also somewhat of a realist. I realize that the building is old and in need of a lot of repair. I realize that even when I went to school there it got extremely hot and uncomfortable in the classrooms in May and the first part of June until school was out. The building has no air conditioning. I also realize that the building would literally shake when they were blasting at the gravel pit and must admit that on more than one occasion it caused alarm to encompass my very being while trying to listen to a lecture. I have a tendency to have a little more compassion for the people who don’t want the school gone for reasons that their children will have farther to go to school than I do for the ones who just want to keep it around because it’s where they went to school. It’s OK to have fond memories, but we shouldn’t hold onto or try to live in the past. Right now there is a group that gathers monthly of old Elmhurst, Wayne, and whatever other school out there. That is fun. It’s remembering the past and relishing in the friends we have made along the way, the ones we could make again and just a few good times, but it has nothing to do with a building. The spirit that belonged to those kids that graduated from that school will live on whether the building is there or not. The memories will be with us and some of the memories will be good and some will be bad. I say again that it is just part of life. The older I get the more I realize you don’t need material objects to have memories. I don’t need a picture to recall my grandmother standing on the porch waving to us as we would leave from visiting with her. I can still recall it in my mind as if it were yesterday. I don’t need the doll my parents bought me when I was eight years old to remember how much I loved that doll and the memory of them giving it to me. The possessions may be nice and sometimes having them is a fond way to recall, but the memories linger in each of us. If they tear down Elmhurst tomorrow and build something else there, it still will not take away the memory of hours spent with friends and teachers in that place. The decision to close Elmhurst is one that is emotional to many, but it is economically a sound choice made by the school board we elected to watch out for our children and for our financial needs to see that the educational system does not fail us. I am sure that none of those board members were aiming for Elmhurst based solely on the premise that they didn’t like the school itself, so if you see them out there please be nice to them. They are given a budget and there is only so much they can do with it. I would much rather they close schools than some other options. The bad part though is we are probably losing some outstanding teachers at those schools that are closing. It’s too bad they can’t keep the teachers and just place them at new schools. Once again, I understand the sentimentality. I understand even better those parents who don’t want their kids shipped off or who moved to the neighborhood so their children could go there. I’m also really more inclined to have major sympathy for those teachers and employees who will find themselves unemployed. I am not trying to be heartless. I am just being practical. Life is about change and this is just another one unfortunately that we’ll have to adjust to.

J. Devon Mathias

J. DEVON MATHIAS, 81, of Warren, passed away on Wednesday, March 24, 2010, at Heritage Pointe. He was born Nov. 21, 1928, in South Whitley, and taught and served as an administrator in the Lagrange, Pleasant Township and Fort Wayne Community Schools public school systems for 39 years. Mr. Mathias was a member of Waynedale United Methodist Church and served there in many capacities for over 50 years. He was past President of the Southside Optimist Club, Sertoma, the Retired Teachers Association and Sigma Phi Epsilon. He was also a member of the Summit City Barbershop Chorus and organized the We the People civic education program in northeast Indiana for many years. He deeply loved gardening and was a longtime certified Master Gardener and docent at the Botannical Conservatory. Surviving are his two sons, Paul (Carlabeth) Mathias of Fishers and Mark (Debra) Mathias of Irvine, Calif.; sister, Shirley Sylvester of Dahlonega, Ga.; grandsons, Ethan and Corbin Mathias; and granddaughters, Caitlin and Marissa Mathias. Preceding Mr. Mathias in passing are his parents, Homer and Audra (Gerkin) Mathias; and his wife Amaryllis (Moore) Mathias. Service is 3 p.m. Friday, April 9, 2010, at Waynedale United Methodist Church, 2501 Church Street, Fort Wayne, with calling two hours prior to service at the church. Burial in Lakeview Cemetery, Larwill, Ind. Preferred memorials to Waynedale United Methodist Church, the Friends of Epworth Forest or Alzheimer's Association at http://www.alz.org/ - To leave condolences please visit http://www.elzey-patterson-rodakfuneralhome.com/

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What can someone say about someone as special as Devon Mathias. He walked tall among men. He loved people and he loved life. His joy seemed to be in helping the young and impressionable find their way in life and to know their worth. He was kind and compassionate and always had a welcoming smile when you would meet him out and about. Mr. Mathias was one of my seventh grade teachers, but to tell you the truth I really don't recall much about what he was like in the class room. I worked for him and his wife, Amy, after school and on weekends as did my brother. Looking back I know that their goal was to help mentor and teach us about the working world and the worth of a hard earned dollar. Amy was a bit of a health food fanatic though and young teenage kids most often are not that into the health foods, or the claim chowder that she would prepare for lunch. I rarely enjoyed the meals she would fix, but I always appreciated the effort that went into them. One very fond memory I have of Mr. Mathias was that when Amy would go out for the day as she often did, usually to go to her school to prepare lessons and such, she would leave pre-cooked meals for Devon to heat up for us at lunch time. He loved his wife very much, but was a practical man who knew children did not enjoy these meals so looking back it makes me smile to remember how he would throw out whatever she had made and either order a pizza, go get fast food or make hot dogs for us to eat. He would always wink and say "Don't tell Mrs. Mathias, lets keep this to ourselves." I don't think he meant her any disrespect as I have said the love he held for her was more than apparent. He was a good man who everyone who knew him was blessed to have known him. I wish his family peace in knowing he's gone on to be with his beloved Amy and my heart goes out to each and every one of you.

A Simpler Time

I remember the anticipation of seeing my grandmothers and my cousins. It was an exhilarating feeling and somehow in my Child's mind it didn’t occur to me that they had the same radio and the same television and the same access to news we did. It always seemed that the folks were talking about the difference between Fort Wayne, Indiana and Pippa Passes/Hindman Kentucky. The two worlds looking back seemed nothing alike. I suppose to a child getting to go away from home and being spoiled would seem different regardless, but there were major differences in the life styles. My parents always took soda pop and potato chips, cookies and pretzels to give out to the people we visited. This was partially because my dad worked a big portion of my childhood for Seyferts Potato chips. In the earlier years we would travel when my dad got off work and often arrived in the wee hours of the morning before anyone had awakened. We would then sit and wait until some semblance of life stirred in the home we were going to. As we grew older it got to were we would leave early morning and get there late afternoon. To me it didn’t really matter which grandmother we went to first. My grandmother Lula lived up a holler that my dad didn’t take the car up. We would park at the end of it and walk. I love the memory of that mere five to ten minute walk along the gravel path and beside the little creek to find my grandmother standing on the edge of the porch with her bright smile welcoming us. She always had a dog that would inevitably come out to great us as well. Oh how I loved those dogs too. We didn’t have a pet for a great portion of my childhood because my dad really didn’t like having them around. He didn’t feel they were clean and I suppose didn’t feel we would be responsible. When we were finally allowed to get a pet it was a cat. My grandmother, Lula’s house was small. It had a half wrap porch that was taller than I was as a child and probably would come about chest high on me now. (That is not short as in I am five foot nine inches tall.) There were two doors we primarily used when going in my grandmothers home. The first one was a side door and if entering it you would step directly into the kitchen and dining room as it was. Immediately to the left was a sink, but it did not have running water, but rather buckets with dippers for getting the water out. You see she had ‘real’ well water and many a times my brother and I have drawn buckets of water up from her well. I even recall one summer when my dad and my uncles dug her a new well. There were fish in the well and if you caught them in the bucket you had to throw them back. Immediately behind the kitchen if you went straight was a bedroom and a door leading to another bedroom which I don’t recall ever having been in. You see my uncle Paul had some issues mentally and he didn’t take visitors except small children and my grandmother. I do recall him sitting in a window where we could see him and he would watch for hours as us children played in the yard just behind the house. There was a pantry in the kitchen and then the living room was off to the right of the kitchen. There were two pull out sofas in that living room where company could sleep. There was an old dresser I would love to have had in the living room, a small television a couple of chairs and a baseboard heater. Out behind the house there were smoke houses and an outhouse out on the hill. No running water or indoor plumbing in this house. It was definitely like stepping back in time. There were chicken coops and a barn that had the creek dug through it to make watering the horses much easier. Except for late night there was no need for television to entertain adults or children either one. The adults would sit and tell stories of days gone by and every relative you could imagine would be there to see us, as well as the occasion neighbor who was just passing by, but be assured they were not strangers for in the hill country everyone knows their neighbors no matter how far apart they live. There were always plenty of cousins for us to play tag or ball with, as well as going down to the creek (Crick in the south) and fishing for craw dads. (Crayfish) -- Lord only knows what kept us from getting bit by rattle snacks and everything else. We would play up and down the hillside and we were rarely careful to watch our step. My grandmother kept corn fields and chickens and hogs. They were a small source of entertainment as well I suppose along with the dozens of cats. Some of those cats were not only house cat. They surely had to be mixed with the bob cats that did roam the hillsides because they were enormous. While south we would make our rounds and attempt to see as many relatives as possible. When we were younger we would stay a week, but as we got older it turned into a two day trip. I suppose the struggles of jobs and work and getting older on my parents behalf may have been responsible for that. We always went to my aunt Bonnie’s. She lived on the same holler as my grandmother Lula. She had these step stairs that went up to her house. She also had lots of children of her own so again we had plenty to do. That was entertaining in that you may hear a wild story from my uncle Forest or even if you were lucky you might get to hear him play some music or he’d show you his horse. My grandmother Jezzie lived a couple of different places over the years. For a while she lived up that same holler and I can remember the wondrous times we had out in the yard playing basketball, chasing the dog and running back to the little creek bed. Then there was the huge basement where we would listen to Johnny Rivers’s records and pretend we were a secret agent, just like in the song. There are so many wonderful memories of those times. It seems so many of those people are no longer with us though. It’s also unfortunately a little more up to date with the times. Relatives there are taking up the Internet and supermarkets are no longer a long journey. I rarely hear of family and friends just getting together to hang out on the porch and reminisce. I’m hopeful though that if I get to go in the spring perhaps for old time sake they will all gather and remember those gone on and times of jubilance and joy. Death is part of life, but only the body dies and the spirit moves on. The memories are always with us. So as I detest this cold weather I do owe it one semblance of gratitude in that since I can’t get outside I did have time for my mind to wonder back over the many people who still live in my heart and the time period where life was a little simpler and time seemed to stand still. This is just one more area of memories that will forever be in my mind.

Memory Lane and Winter Cleaning.....

So as you may or may not know I am on vacation this week. I love taking the first week of the year off because it allows me to get a lot of things done that I wouldn't otherwise do. You see if I'm off in warm weather there is no way you are tying me down to stay inside. (Well, almost no way). As I have been taking a few hours each day to go through old storage containers and boxes to remove the excess and clutter I have come across a few things that I truly treasure. For the most part the stuff is going unless I can't bring myself to part with it. I mean the older I get the less I want to own quantity and prefer quality. Among the things I have found have been old love letters (Everyone has them don't they? Don't you just wonder why you really hang on to them though?), Pictures I had long forgotten about, a ring that held a promise of what might have been, a necklace that took me back to sweet sixteen and many other things. I also found a card from flowers I received at work once. They were from someone I think wanted more from me at that time than friendship, but fear and old ghosts kept me from pursuing it. I guess we'll chalk that one up in the regret category. I also found some old poetry I had written and some a friend had written, as well as this picture that was drawn for me by one of my favorite artists. It was his rendition of how he saw me back then. He's a dear friend and there is no way I could ever part with this. Now if he would just become famous so I could use it to my advantage.... just joking. Either way cleaning is good for the soul on many levels. It stirs up old feelings which can leave one lost and yet happy all at the same time. So this vacation when I'm asked where I went I think I'll just tell everyone I was a time traveler for a brief period of time. I traveled back over the years to the remnants of my life. My vacation is just a journey down memory lane with a little winter cleaning, both emotionally and aesthetically.

The Colors of My Mind

When you're out walking and you're looking at gorgeous scenery like this one above you can't help but think of days gone by. Today as I was walking I thought of a song by Dolly Parton, "Coat of Many Colors". My grandmother Jezzie use to love that song and she gave me a 45 of it when I was quite young. I bet I played that thing until it was warped. I also thought of a conversation I had with my mom the other day at lunch about my grandmother Jezzie. It's amazing at what I remember and what my mother never knew until that conversation. My grandmother also liked the song "Abra Abra Cadabra" and "Little Pink Houses". These are not songs you would have thought someone of my grandmothers generation would have liked and my mom had no clue she did. I remember the conversation with my grandmother about these songs like it was yesterday. I am sure on some level my grandmother was just attempting to find a level playing field on which to communicate with a teenage granddaughter. My grandmother Jezzie was unique though on many levels and could quiet often surprise you. She loved wrestling. She was a woman to admire on many levels. She had married a man who all ready had more than enough children on his own. He was also sixteen years older than my grandmother and amazingly she outlived him by exactly sixteen years. My grandpa was a Baptist minister and his wife had run off and left him with children and in need of a help mate. I think she did an excellent job not only of being there for him, but for his children. I often heard my grandmother speak of how should could not have loved her step children anymore if they had been her own. She went on to have eight "surviving" children of her own with my grandpa. I say surviving because I also remember her mentioning miscarriages. Miscarriages were not uncommon for that day. Women often worked hard in the fields long into their pregnancies and sometimes right up until delivery. My grandmother never had much money and I can count the things that she gave me on one hand as I was growing up. A watch, a purse, a few records... But she didn't' need money because the many colorful moments with her are etched in my mind. Isn't that what counts in life that so many forget way too often? The memories we have and are allowed to carry with us even when someone is gone. My grandmother died in 1986, but in my mind I can still see her face and hear her voice. I still remember the smile and the hugs. Yes she was sick the last couple of years of her life and I remember those bad times and I have images I could drudge up of that time, but I prefer to bring forth the wonderful memories I have. The ones that as this beautiful scenery are now the colors of my mind and shall be forever. The fall colors are a reminder of change to come and a life winding down. In the spring the flowers and the tree buds will bring everything all new. Unlike the tree leaves though my memories will hopefully never die and shall live on.

My Blogging 1 Year Anniversary

It's hard to believe it's been a year. Seems to me though I find myself saying that a lot these days. It's hard to believe so many things. I find myself these past few weeks in a mood to reflect, but not so much in writing. There are some feelings that you just can't convey into writing no matter how hard you try. Yesterday as I was walking I found myself thrown back in time thinking to a time when I had walked home from work late at night over more than ten miles of road. My uncle Roger has made me promise never again to do that and to call him no matter what time of day or night. That was in the later half of the 90's. It saddened me that as I walked and remembered that he's no longer with us today. This picture of what we always called "cat tails" I took the picture of on my walk on Monday. They also took me back to days of my youth. We lived along a railroad track and we were always playing with these things. They were our toys of our own choosing you might say. So many memories that seem like I could just reach back to yesterday and pull into this very moment. Funny how in one way they seem so long ago and in another they feel as if they just happened. Time is a precious gift that goes way too quickly. It just keeps reminding me that I should enjoy my time and not work it away. My neighbor that lost his wife last year has been giving me a lot of items from his home. He's in his late eighties. He talks about how he feels his life winding down. I know as he gives me these items that he's preparing to leave life behind him. It's sad to think of. I take the items and always smile, but a little piece of my heart breaks each time as I think of how lonely he must feel. He has no one left here. He's all alone except for his cat and dog and his neighbors. Life is precious and this year has gone by so quickly. It's been a good year. Hopefully we'll be counting many more in the future.

1908 & 1967

The title is two numbers that don't appear to have anything in common when you just put them out there, but let me tell you these two dates are connected. How one might ask? For me it is easy. The dates are fifty-nine years apart and have always held a place in my heart and in my mind. The first is the year of the birth of my grandmother Lula who was born at a quarter till midnight on June 27, 1908. The second date, my birth year. Ok so now you'll know how old I am. I never hide that anyway. I am proud to have lived my life to this age. Never thought I would be this old or feel this young at this age. I was born on Tuesday, June 27, 1967 at a quarter till midnight. Now has anyone noticed a correlation there? My fraternal grandmother and I were born exactly to the minute fifty-nine years apart. Tonight as I walked with my dad at first and talked of sports and Obama, and Michael Jackson and Farrah, my mind wandered and then as my dad headed back in the house after forty minutes of the walk and I continued on my way I remembered the story of the day I was born that I have heard so often. My mother had started feeling contraction early in the morning, but she didn't want to go to the hospital and sit where they would poke her with needles and pester her, so she had my dad and his brother Pearlie Jr. Take her to the Fort Wayne Childrens Zoo with my brother Ritchie of course. She spent quiet a bit of time there and took a ride on the Koonville Express (The zoo's train). Then dad and her headed back home. They lived in a little apartment down town and their phone was a party line. For those that don't know a party line was a phone that several people shared the lines to. So to use the phone no one else could be using it at the same time. Does anyone see where this story is going all ready? About eight o'clock in the evening my mother decided they should head out. Guess what? Dad's car wouldn't start. So he went over and picked up the phone. He says these two old biddies (old women) were yacking about garbage. I don't know if he meant literal garbage or he didn't think their conversation was important. Anyway, he says he politely explained to them he needed the phone and they promised to be off shortly. This went on until around 10pm and they were still not off the phone so my dear old dad pulled the phone over to the stereo speakers and blasted them full force into the phone. Can we say OUCH? Dad says he was called back by the phone company and he explained the situation to them and they got off the phone and allowed him to call a cab. Yep, I was extremely close to being born in the back seat of a Fort Wayne Taxi, but I wasn't. They arrived at Parkview at 11pm and I was born at 11:45pm. Talk about cutting it close. This should have been a good heads up for them that I was going to be trouble. That and other stories of my pre-birth that I will be happy to share at a different time. My dad was so excited he forgot it was his mothers birthday. My mom named me Sheila. It was after a song my dad loved at that time. Yep I was named after a song. "Sweet little Sheila, you'll know her if you see her. Blue eyes and a pony tail." That would be me. My grandmother never let them forget that they didn't name me after her either. Nothing personal grandma. I loved you, but I am glad I am Sheila. Coincedently my first job was at "The Fort Wayne Children's Zoo". So here we are forty-two years later. I love my family and my life. Of course my mother thought I was turning forty-three today. Hum. I'm certain she was there. :>)

Bugs Bunny, The Road Runner & The Flinstones

I miss Saturday morning cartoons. There was absolutely nothing better when I was growing up than waking up to the Saturday morning line up. I think it's sad that most of Saturday morning local television these days has little to nothing to do with children. I know we have cartoon networks and such, but it was always such a treat in the fall to watch the previews of up and coming fall cartoons. Saturdays' we didn't have to go to school and there was a ritual in my house. We would get up and my brother and I would just sit in front of that television until it was time to go to lunch or shopping. Most of the shows we liked were the same. I mean who didn't love "The Bugs Bunny - Road Runner Show"? Then there was "Heath Cliff", "Alvin & The Chipmunks", "Space Ghost", "The Flintstones & Jetsons" and not to say the least "Fat Albert". In the later years when Channel fifty-five hit the airwaves we had these same cartoons during the weekday evenings, although we were often told to go outside and play. We got more exercise that way. Saturday's were always special all the way around in my house. Saturday's were family day and time. Rarely did we do our regular routine of going out and playing with the neighborhood kids. We were content. Mom would almost every weekend make a home made chocolate cake and we would sit down together and watch television in the evening. If memory serves we would watch Marcus Welby, Barnaby Jones or Emergency One. There was always a wholesome family program. We would also play old made or board games. Sometimes mom or dad would read to us. We did this well into the teen years. They are some of the best memories I have of growing up. Sometimes we even got to go to a park and play. Sometimes just with mom and dad and sometimes with cousins. These cartoons were the start of a great weekend almost always. What I think is really sad is that people today want to say these cartoons were violent and shouldn't be watched. I never took them for reality. I really think children are smarter than that. Society with it's every child must win and never be told no attitude is what is harming our society, not the old day cartoons. Besides who on earth would let their children watch "Rug Rats". What a hateful child on that show. Anyway, I will be forty-two years old on Saturday and I still love nothing better than to sit down to these old time Saturday morning cartoons. I can never get enough of them. Those were the good days. Thanks Bugs!

A Year Tomorrow....

.................................. May 1988 - June 21, 2008............................

Yes, I'm going to be a crazy cat lady and pay respect to my beloved cat Basil. Tomorrow will be a year since he passed away. I still miss him and I still catch myself expecting him to be in places where he isn't anymore. I know I know I'm delusional or something but I have that purring sound in my bathroom again. It started about two weeks ago. Basil use to sit on the edge of the tub and watch me wash my face or do miscellaneous things. His purr was always so loud I was sure it would cause him to fall off the tubs edge. Last year when I heard it I had bees and took it as his warning me so this time when I first heard it I took a flashlight and went out hunting for bees around my ceiling. Didn't find any. I'm unsure of why the sound is back. Perhaps Basil just wanted to make sure I remembered him or maybe them dog gone bees will be reappearing. Either way there is no way I would have forgotten such a wonderful friend as Basil, but seeing as tomorrow is "Dad's" day, I thought I might want to post a little something more upbeat tomorrow. So a year tomorrow around four in the afternoon I'll stop for a brief moment and pay my respects to such a wonderful friend that I still miss.

The Reflecting Pool.

Memories are a wonderful gift that I believe we all take for granted from time to time. Our memories help us grow and develop. The memories we have can bring us happiness or sadness. They our in essence our own reflecting pool on our own lives. I suppose it is natural for one to periodically sit, or walk as in my case, and reflect on periods of time and what lessons we learned. Today as I was walking I thought about a friend that I have re-introduced into my life. I thought about where we were twenty some odd years ago and how much I have changed. I thought about how sometimes in life we remove people and places in our lives so we can grow. Back when I hung around with him before I cared deeply about him as a friend, but I was incapable of being a true friend to anyone. I was confused and sad more often than not. There were years of my trying to establish in my own mind who I was and what I wanted. There were years of anger because I didn’t have the picture perfect life I wanted and disappointment that life wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter. I don’t really recall when we drifted apart. I just remember myself slowly and methodically removing people from my life. I didn’t even really know why. I isolated myself to a small group of people and I rarely got out or did anything. Then I devoted myself to my work and to my family. I did a lot of praying and a lot of thinking. Slowly I raised myself out of the anger and pain. I came through the fog with the help of different memories we won’t go into right now. I brought myself to a place where I am happy as an individual. I’m not saying I don’t ever get depressed or have moments of confusion or sadness, but they are rare and usually I can talk myself out of them. So once I was in this place of spiritual and self assurance I decided I wanted to look back and see what from my past was worth bringing back into my present. One person stood out in my mind. So I took a chance and re-introduced myself and thankfully I was welcomed back. I just wonder if he knows how much I cherish our friendship and how special I think he is. I then looked for other friendships I felt were beneficial and special and cultivated them back into a meaning in my life as well. I’ve found that sometimes we leave relationships because we have no choice. For me I have had to do that to a few in the past because I couldn’t be around them without them bringing me down. On some levels I believe the old me was this type of person that would bring people down. I wasn’t capable then of being a good friend. Now I feel I am and I hope all my friends know I am here for them. Life and memories are a reflecting pool of sorts and I for one will keep them forever in my mind.

Driving Down Memory Lane.

Today, Friday, as I was taking my walk at work on my lunch break I watched a dad and his daughter in the parking lot in what looked like an old Buick of some type. The dad was giving his daughter driving lessons. She was doing fairly well too I might add, but she seemed really nervous. I was a little nervous myself as my car was parked in this lot. It took me back in time to when I learned to drive; however, my dad was not the one who taught me to drive. My dad was in no hurry to teach me to drive in as he really didn't believe woman needed to or should drive. He's come a long way over the years since then. He sort of had no choice seeing as how his only daughter was somewhat of an independent soul. He probably would have eventually taught me to drive, but my brother stepped in to do the job before he could. I remember the car my brother had. It was so funny how I had joked him when he went looking for his first car that he would get a rusted out old junker to drive. He sort of did. He had a 1975 Mercury Comet. It was yellow and actually in decent shape except for the back fenders which were pretty much rusted out. I loved that car. It was a beater car, but I loved it just the same. My brother took me out on an old country road and we would just drive. Eventually he sold that car and got a 1979 Oldsmobile Omega. It was blue and was a really nice car. I liked it but not as much as I did that Comet. My brother was a trooper though and kept giving me lessons until one day I was ready to go get my drivers licence. I remember that day so well. First let me start by telling you that my brothers Olds had an issue with dying if you cut the wheel too hard. On the morning my brother and I drove to Ossian we made sure we were there right as they opened. I remember I was the first one going out. I had missed one question on my written test. All that was left to do was to pass the driving test. The lady got in and inspected the car. She told me that she had not had her morning coffee yet and that we would need to get this done so she could get back and get her coffee. At that time there was only one red light and about three or four stop signs in Ossian. I had been down there and practiced the driving route a few times. I was not very good at parallel parking though and was not looking forward to that part. Finally she found a spot with a car and asked me to parallel park behind it. I pulled up to the front door of the car that would be in front. Just as I had rehearsed over and over at a park in Waynedale between logs. Every time I would cut the wheel to try to get parked behind this car though the engine would die. I tried over and over and each time it died. Finally the woman got out and told me to scoot over. I did as I was instructed. She got in and expertly parallel parked my brothers car behind the one she wanted. She looked at me and asked me if I thought I could do that. I nodded. She goes OK lets go on to the next point. When we got back to the licence branch she marked my score as a hundred percent. She put I had passed with flying colors. All I remember is her mumbling something as we got back about finally being able to get her coffee. I am thankful to my brother for teaching me to drive and I am thankful that I still have the memories to cherish. So for me watching that dad and daughter practicing driving today took me back in time for a little while. Back to a more innocent time when my brother first taught me to drive. So for a while tonight you might say I took a drive down memory lane.

My Grandmother's Wisdom...

Growing up in my family was definitely a life full of love. I had wonderful parents and multiple other influences to guide me. One of my most memorable was my grandmother Lula. Lully as her family and her friends called her. She and I were exactly fifty-nine years apart in age. We were both born on June 27 at a quarter till midnight. She sadly died when I was sixteen years old in 1983 from an unknown illness that had kept her in the hospital for many months. To this day I recall walking into that hospital the day after Thanksgiving and having my uncle tell us my grandmother had died. Well, at least her brain had died. Machines kept her heart beating and blood coursing through her veins. My grandmother had always been a stout lady. My aunt told me I needed to go in and see my grandmother to say good bye. I did. To this day I regret that. The woman lying in that bed wasn't the stout figure of a woman I remembered. This woman was very thin and very frail. There were so many tubes and wires hooked up to her. Her body twitched as the machine pumped life into her body. Her eyelids fluttered. It wasn't a picture I would wish to keep with me for the rest of my life and to tell you the truth I believe it was what sent me into a rather deep depression for many years to follow that. It was what it was though. It's the past. Something none of us can change and something we may not want to change if we could see how differently our lives would be, perhaps we have the correct and better path. My grandmother had always seemed to be quiet happy; however, I often wonder now as a grown up if that wasn't just a show for when people where there. I mean she lived in a holler with her grown son, who was mentally not quiet right. She saw friends on occasion and for the most part she kept a garden, stabled horses, sold eggs and made quilts. The most gorgeous quilts. Either way I remember hearing her say on more than one occasion that people need to enjoy life while they have their health because nothing matters if you don't have your health. She was so wise. She was always saying something that I wish I had kept a journal and written it all down. So much wisdom. So much I would love to ask her now if only I could. Today took me back to that time. Took me back to her saying your health is everything. I don't know if I had food poisoning today (Monday) or what. Perhaps my body was just revolting because I broke the diet this past weekend that I had stuck to for over four weeks. A diet high in protein, light in sodium and breads. I took a weekend and let myself eat regular foods. Perhaps my body was telling me no. What ever the reason today was rough. I wanted to get an extra walk in because it was so gorgeous, but that wasn't to be in the cards. I did manage to get one in though. Lately since I have been exercising and dieting I have been feeling so much healthier and better, but today I felt like my life was dwindling. I was having severe abdominal pain and nausea. I just wanted to get home and sleep. I did make it home and I did feel better but I am still not doing great and it's going to be a long night. I suppose it's just one of those lessons reaching out to tell me to appreciate it when I can. Appreciate when I feel good and the weather is nice. Today wasn't the greatest, but there are others who have it a lot worse. Hopefully tomorrow is a better day and yes grandma I do appreciate the days when I feel well.

For the Love of a Storm

Nope I didn't take this photo, didn't see a name tagged to it, but nice shot.

Even though I am just like everyone else and I don't really care for the devastation and destruction that storms can leave in their path; I have loved watching and listening to storms every since I could remember. There is just something magical and mysterious about them. Yes, I have watched "Twister" more times than I care to really admit to. It's one of my all time favorite movies. I love the way the air feels after a storm has passed through. It's such a clean and refreshing feeling. For whatever reason storms always lead me down memory lane too. Tonight is no different. As I was listening to the wind and the thunder I couldn't help but go back in time to a more innocent surrounding. Memories flooded my mind of when I was little and my mother would be ironing my dad's clothes. I had this little ironing board and iron and I would get it out and iron towels, doll clothes and rags. I wanted to be just like my mother when I grew up. Funny how differnt from her I turned out to be. I also don't believe how little irons play in the role of life today. I mean she always seemed to be ironing, yet I bet you over the last ten years I haven't used mine more than half a dozen times, maybe a couple more. There were also the nights when mom would read to us because we couldn't watch television with an electrical storm going on. If not reading she might play a game of go fish or old maid with us. For whatever reason storms do take me back in time. Back to a more innocent time. A time when storms may have been scary, but mom soothed and calmed the fears. Over time I got to where I didn't fear storms. I came to understand if it isn't my time to go then the storm won't hurt me and if it is there is no avoiding it. Just a sort of acceptance and understanding that God will take care of me and my life will play out exactly as it's meant to be. So I love storms. I love to sit and watch them and would love to have a big wrap around porch that I could sit out on at night and watch them. How about you? Do you admire the beauty of the beast?

Neither Pain or Rain

So yesterday, Wednesday, after finishing my merchandising in Churubusco, I hurried home and changed and got my walking shoe's, my Walkman, my timer watch and my umbrella and hurried out the door. It looked like it was going to come a down pour at anytime. My ankle hurt from having hurt it a week ago. Still hasn't healed, may have to break down and see a doctor. I felt queasy and nauseous and just a slight bit light headed. I know my body was telling me I really needed to get something to eat, but I wanted to get my walk in and I needed to beat the rain. So out I took thinking the whole time would one day really matter that much if I missed my walk; however, realizing thinking like that is self-defeating I walked on. I'm also very glad I did. About half way through my walk my mood picked up and I started feeling better and out of no where I smelled something so comforting. This smell was so familiar and I loved it! It dawned on me I was smelling lilac bushes in full bloom. I looked around and sure enough. I've lived in this neighborhood for almost ten years and just realized there are lilac bushes on some of the properties. I know I'm a little slow. I have always loved the aroma from these bushes and I think they are so beautiful. Of course that is probably partially because Purple and yellow are my favorite colors and they are of course purple. When I was growing up my brother and I and the neighborhood children would play in this big field near our home. It had lilac bushes all up and down it. So I suppose it also sent me back momentarily to childhood. Either way the walk was wonderful and I got something to eat afterwards and felt much much better. Have you started your summer walk program yet?

A Walk In My Mind.

Today was a rocky road for me. I got up in an OK mood, but events of the day made me feel somewhat anxious. When I get in one of these moods I have a tendency to need someone out of the picture just to talk to, not necessarily about what is going on, but just talk. I need a mental health get away you might say from the picture. So I text messaged a friend and asked him if he wanted to do an impromptu dinner. He did thankfully, even though I'm sure after my rambling on and on as I do when I'm stressed he may be questioning why. I am thankful for the evening though. It helped me to relax. Once I was home and in sweats and doing the laundry though I put on some music from days gone by and pulled out one of my many (and I do mean many) photo albums and took a walk down memory lane. The photo above is of me as you can see on August 27, 1991. My ex, the only one I really count, and I went to the Royal Gorge in Colorado. He was deathly afraid of heights but he managed to get out there to take this photo for me. I got him to walk across, but he wouldn't do it twice so we took the sky trolley back across. If you ask me the bridge had less chance of falling than that thing. Heights don't bother me though. I thought about those times with him and how happy I was and even though things didn't turn out in the fairy tale manor I would never trade those memories for anything. I guess that is just me though. I love my memories even when I've opted to put the person out of my life. Of course the man I knew then wasn't the one who exists today. Not in my opinion anyway.

Along the way I happened along this photo of Joe. Not sure what year exactly. I believe probably 90 or there abouts. I love the eighties hair. No matter what the hair though Joe has always been a very handsome man.
Turning the pages of my albums I found this picture here on the right. The two women are now deceased. The one standing is Avonelle. She was my aunt Sandy's Aunt. The one seated is my aunt Sandy that just passed away on March 30Th and the man is my uncle Ellis. This was at a huge family reunion that was held in a park. There are so many in my family that anything less than a hall or a park for a reunion would never be big enough. I have lots and lots of family. Of course it seems I am losing more of them all the time. I am blessed to have an extended family though in my friends, like Joe, Vincent, Barb, Diane, Chris and Ida to name a few. I am blessed because I believe with all my heart these people care about me. Some of them probably more than some of my aunts and uncles.

This picture on the left is of my Uncles... all but one that is. The second in left wise from the right side of the picture is my dad standing beside my uncle Ellis. The two men in the middle are now deceased. They are my Uncle Roger who died in 2005 and my Uncle Monroe who died on April 16, 2008. Back left is my uncle Ray and front left is my uncle Orbin. Orbin is a very talented musician or at least he use to be. I don't know if he plays anymore. He now has his own church.

The picture here is of my brother walking my first dog, Snickers. Snickers was very high strung. I loved him a lot though. He died on July 5, 2001. I still remember seeing him that day I took him to the vet to have surgery. It was gorgeous outside. He was just sitting there in the grass looking at me. Somehow I knew he wouldn't survive surgery and since he had cancer it was probably the kinder of options. My brother use to walk him all the time on the railroad tracks near the trailer park where I grew up. Yep, I grew up in a trailer park. I didn't lack for anything though. It was a great way of life on so many levels, mostly because I had the idea family. A loving mom and dad and a brother that I absolutely adored and got along great with. And if you look at the next

picture here on the left you will see a picture of my mom and dad walking on Caney Creek in Pippa Passes, Kentucky. I spent a lot of time there as a child. This road has been widened since this photo. So many things no longer look the way they did and so many people we would visit along this road are no longer among the living. Time really does fly by.

Here on the right is a picture of me and my ex sister-in-law. Even though this picture was done in jest when we first met we really didn't like each other very well, but over the years we became really close friends and a lot like sisters.
On the left is my beloved cat Basil in the prime of his life at my apartment I had in Popular Ridge. I had a lot of good times in that apartment and would have probably stayed there if it wasn't for the guy who lived behind me who invited me to a cook out one night at his place. I went and he told me all about my life. When I came, when I went. Who came and left my house and at what hours. He seemed nice enough until that. That was creepy. It was obvious he was watching me and since he lived in the apartment behind mine he had to be doing it on purpose since you couldn't see my place or when I came or went from his place. So I packed and moved out of fear you might say.

So after moving out of that place I moved to the house on Dale Drive. The house that had candles that lit on their own and music boxes that would play for no reason. I have hopefully many more years of memories to make, but looking back mistakes and all I don't think I would change anything. I like who I am now. With the exception I'd like to drop some weight I am happy for the most part. I Believe I am a better person now and a happier person and I have the life I lived to thank for that. I am who I am because of who I was and how I lived. Life's road isn't always easy, but no one promised me it would be. So thank you all that are in my life. Thank my friend for the dinner and conversation of this evening and thanks for the memories that shall always be in my mind as long as the good Lord wills them to be.

** Nothing But A Memory **

Anyone out there remember the first show of "Making the Band"? I do. I loved watching that show. I remember pulling for the guys and at the same time thinking why would anyone want to go through all this. Boy bands were very popular in the 90's and early years of this decade. This show first aired in 2000 which was what a lot of people felt was a new beginning. We had all survived the Y2K. New life and new promise as we started a new era. Little did we know that a year later we wouldn't just be looking at the new careers of such as these kids that became known as O-town, but we would also have 911. I guess that is what life is. A mystery that we have to wait each day for it to unravel. Either way as I was watching this show it was quiet obvious to me, as I'm sure it was to the shows producers, that even if this group got a hit album they would be short lived. Not because they didn't have talent, because they did, but they had two singers who wanted to be the lime light. Two who didn't want to share the stage with anyone. Two who thought they had their own thing to do and they didn't want anyone telling them how to perform their songs or their music. The funny thing is I think they were the least two talented of the group. Either way I loved listening to their music and even have a CD that I recorded one of their songs for fun on for just my entertainment. I have trouble singing these days due to losing my voice or my breath. A great new product of the last year of my life. This group sadly only did two albums and only one that is worth much. The second one I do not own but I have listened on line and it has maybe two songs worth anything. The first one was well produced and is golden. Almost every song is worth listening to. I'm going to put links to the two songs I enjoyed the most here so you can go take a listen at your leisure.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZgwuhpZxa0

All or Nothing

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dljyXelztCE

Liquid Dreams

I have lots of memories of these songs. Especially the first song. It brings back a flood gate of memories of friends and family and a beloved pet that are no longer here physically, but will forever be in my mind.

What Might Have Been.

Robert Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)

Everyone thinks about this at some point in life or another whether they say they do, admit to it or not. Last night was a reflection in my mind on what might have been. I do have one true love. Someone I loved with all my heart and soul and still do. Just couldn't live with him and his love of drugs and alcohol. His other short comings I could have lived with because even though some of my friends thought I was crazy to even attempt to be with him, he had a side to him I don't think any of them ever got to see. There was a side that when it was just him and me that was so real and was someone I could have spent forever with. To tell you the truth too I can't really blame him with his parents for turning out the way he did. I was at his mothers house one time when she said right in front of both of her children that she wished she'd have aborted both of them or that they would commit suicide and get out of her life. What an awful thing for a mother to say. His dad was a raging alcoholic and a wife beater. He left my ex and their family for a woman that was one year older than me. He left them in Germany and ran off with her. My ex often talked about remembering seeing him drive away. An American soldier who didn't hold much respect for his family I would say and did the service no honor by being there. I met the man once. That was enough to tell you he hates women. Not once in all the years I was with my ex though did he ever show a violent side. Never raised a hand and hated to argue. I just couldn't take the drunk in him. Until you've put a drunk to bed and had to clean up after him or talk him out of some delirium at 2am in the morning because he's forgotten where he is and asks you where your children are - that you don't have.... don't judge. I got to where a life alone sounded better. He wanted his freedom to party and I finally gave it to him. I saw him two summers ago. He wanted to pick things back up. We were in Meijers and he said come over to the house for a cook out and we can talk. I almost did. My heart was there. Then standing there he opened the pain medication he was picking up for his mother poured several into his pocket, said she will never miss them and put the cap back on and put it back in the bag. Red flags and alarms and bells and whistles everywhere were sounding. I declined the invitation and never called the number he gave me. Last night though in my dreams I was in the reality that could have been. One might think that makes you sad, but somehow it didn't. Somehow it just made me smile. Maybe some other life will take me down that road. Either way I am happy with my life today. Somehow always knew this is where my life was headed. My favorite poem of all times is:

"The Road Not Taken" by: Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood,

and I—I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

"Sure I think about you now and then But it's been a long, long time I've got a good life now, and I've moved on So when you cross my mind...I try not to think about what might have been Cause that was then And we have taken different roads We can't go back again There's no use givin in And theres no way to know What might have been" Little Texas

What's In A Dream?

So, I've spoken of dreams in my blog before. I have mentioned that there are informational dreams and how these are our minds way of trying to work through things. Last night I had what I felt was an information dream. At least I think. You see I do dream things that come true. But to the best of my knowledge last nights dream was just my minds way of trying to clear up fears and frustrations. The dream all took place at my aunt Bonnie's house. She lives in a house on the hillside in Pippa Passes, Kentucky. She's a wonderful woman Who is probably in her late 70's I would imagine. I'm not really sure. The house has two flights of stairs on the hillside to walk up to get to the porch. Then there is this wonderful porch on the front where we use to sit when we were children with our feet dangling over the side as the elder people sat on chairs and porch swings and told tails of strange things that happened as they grew up. There is one story they told over and over of my mothers dad (He was a Baptist minister) being outside with a group of people and they all saw it. Three times a white sheet looking thing went across the sky and cried like a baby. Then three weeks in a row three different church members died. So many stories attached to that house. Even one of my dad before he was married to my mom going by that house where Bonnie lived with her husband. Her husband was out and Bonnie was in labor. I guess my mom lived in that house for a while when she was a small girl. The house over looks a creek and behind it there is a pen for hunting dogs. Down below a garage with a stable and an apartment over it. The house sits on a road that is up the holler called "Short Fork" and the road was actually named "Short Fork Road". My family or should I say my dads family was the prominent family of the times that lived at the head of the holler. If I'm speaking Greek I'm sorry. These are just the terms they use. I guess you could say I have a lot of fond memories of that house and times there growing up. So it was no surprise that my dream last night was at that house. However inside that house was nothing like it actually is. There was a court room and a judge. I had an attorney. I have no idea what the trial was or was not about. I kept getting called out of the court room to deal with different issues. People from work were in the dream. Just passers by that wanted to know how I was doing. Which trust me to me was a little strange. Then there were people who are in my past. One was a girl named Mary whom I haven't seen in years. She and I were quiet close for years. The apartment building she use to live in on Hobson is no longer there. She had a brain tumor removed a few years back. I wonder how she is and if she's still alive and yes there is part of me that feels very guilty for not having kept up with her. She was one of the most honest people I think I've ever met. Such a loving person too. My family of course were in the dream. Normal life and living were also going on in the dream. So I woke up in the middle of the night (kidney infection) and when I laid back down and went back to sleep I went right back into the dream. My minds way of telling me I needed to finish the dream. Yet it's not done with me still. I have thought about that dream all day. I think what it is trying to tell me is that I need to let go of regrets. I need to realize for once in my life that I am human. The same thing I keep telling other people all the time. I can't go back. None of use can. I can't change yesterday to be the way I wish it were. I can only work on going forward. I can only work on making tomorrow better and work on making sure that those in my life realize that yes life gets busy, but I do hold them in my heart today and always. Our dreams talk to us. Our subconscious often knows things that our conscious mind isn't willing to admit to. We can grow from listening to them. A good way to remember dreams is to keep a pen and paper near your bed. When you wake write down everything you remember. Our dreams really can guide us. What are your dreams trying to tell you?