|
 |
 |
||||||||||||||
 |
||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
Read Eve's Family Stories Here EXCUSE ME I WAS HERE FIRST Let’s see, who do I think of as a compassionate person? Sister Mickelson in the Mormon Church who made me feel like an elevated person (in my first six months of sobriety) by saying to me “You look like a new person.”And I was new. Kerry McCoy at ABC-CLIO, when I worked for her (when I broke my wrist, remember the Reunion we had at John and Renee’s) I went part-time and to the Doctor a lot. Kerry has been a wonderful friend. She is just naturally wonderful. My loving sisters, Edna Overall. I lived at Edna’s when I first went to work at the Small Arms Plant. June Weber before she was married and went to Montana to live—oh how we missed her, especially Mom. Rue Musgrave who loved Elvis Musgrave to pieces she added a new dimension to Elvis’s life. And dear Fannie Musgraves, a wonderful member of the Musgraves family all of them have their special place in the Musgraves’ hearts; John Deacon and Rene and their delightful company, Thank you Fannie and Eldon for accepting Kara, John and myself till I got a job (Eldon got it for me). Frank Price my boss in the Law Firm; Jack Peart my first manager at the Corporate Offices--we were located in Mr. Kindelberger’s floor—they called it Mahagony Row, I learned a lot from Jack Peart he bought me my first very own dictionary. Harriet —I learned a lot from her, and from Marie Holmes one of the best neighbors I’ve ever had. I have been treated to new ways to consider ideas by my Kara Oh, Amber Bottelsen, Brent Per Bottelsen. The people who live in the condominium complex such as Mrs. McDonald, I learned from her how irresponsible some people are, but she knew how to get people to treat the complex and clean up after themselves, Michelle and Rex, two almost perfect neighbors. Best friend, Sally Anderson for her kindly advice and especially for her ability to get me to listen to new ways of considering. Delmar Sloan when I was five years old he let me take his little baby for a ride in a stroller and being fresh off the farm and not knowing what a hamburger was explained by making a small hamburger for me. Two of my half-sisters Ruby and Clara they let me clean their houses and paid me a dime or so, and I didn’t know how to do it. Pearl and Wayne Musgraves, two Kyle, my brother Eldon's grandson and Fanny, his wife; and Wayne Musgraves’s father. Eric and Inge Boehm, Steve and Ingrid Boehm for my Reiki training, the Zydeco Zippers, Ron and Marlys Boehm family, et al and et al and et al, Blake Brown, Rachel Whitney, and Patsy Graziani, Lesley Bronson and so many more. . . . INTUITION The philosophers and scientists are not always the wisest; sometimes fishermen, farmers, cowboys, men who live with the stars and the earth may have the subtlest wisdom. Here is a letter from a cowboy in Texas. "Dear Sir, What is this thing that is spoke of as subconscious? I have used that thing all my life and I know there is something about that thing I don't understand. I have read all I have gotten the chance to on the subject. I strongly believe that it is something we can use. I believe it has saved my life many times. I was raised in West Texas and I spent much of my life breaking
wild horses. And I know something that is called the subconscious
will work on horses. I know that something travels from man
to horse, and from horse to man. I have felt it on the bridle
reins. That same thing will tell me which trail to take when
I am lost in the mountains or on the plains. It guides me through
the darkness of the night. Now if you can see any sense to this question and these statements, will you please answer me in simple language." I strongly believe that it is something we can use. I like that cowboy. Living with the stars and the plains, with the mountains and with God has made him a philosopher of depth. On the trail he felt this "thing." This is a mysterious universe and within its outward forms is indestructible life. "Stay Alive All Your Life" Norman V. Peale Working Together On
the plains, I found a Source of strength in the misty mountains,
while riding under the stars, and on the rippling winds that swept
across the grasses. I found satisfaction in the snows of winter
and the heart of summer. And I've learned a lot out on the plains,
especially from Hereford cattle. When the cold winter sweeps across
the plains blinding icy blasts and temperatures that plummet below
zero, most cattle will drift downwind until they finally pile
up against a fence or an obstruction of some kind and die by the
scores. "But," the story teller continued, "not
the Hereford cattle. They won't drift downwind. They fight their
way upwind. When they come to a fence or some obstruction and
can go no further, they huddle together The Greatest Medicine When
asked by an intern which medicine he considered the greatest boon,
the old doctor looked back thoughtfully over a half century of
medical practice. As memories crowded in upon him, they brought
a sharp, clear recognition of the one medicine which he believed
to be the master medicine of all, and to Are Senior Citizens Responsible? Senior citizens are constantly being criticized for every conceivable deficiency of the modern world, real or imaginary. We know we take responsibility for all we have done and do not blame others. BUT, upon reflection, we would like to point out that it was not the senior citizens who took: The melody
out of music, |
|
COFFEE When
I was a baby, my dad would hold me on his lap, dip pieces of bread
in his coffee and give me "suppy." The smell of coffee
always brings back pleasant memories of that happy time in the
kitchen alone with my dad. Since I grew to like it and associated
drinking coffee with socializing and happy times, I became addicted.
As the years rolled by, my coffee drinking became more and more
frequent. Heart palpitations also became frequent. The people
who drink coffee in moderation seldom have the same symptoms as
a heavy drinker, although many claim to get a headache if they
fail to have their After the third day of withdrawal from coffee, the cells in my body take on a decidedly refreshed feeling. I come down from the "high" and I'm no longer supercharged, wired, nor highly active; and my frenetic rushing about ceases. My body takes on serenity, and sort of purrs softly like a well oiled and cared for Mercedes, rather than a snorting Mustang. Alas, after a period of pure enjoyment and peace of mind and body, having no chemicals for a time, the tantalizing aroma of fresh perked coffee will tempt me into having an after-dinner cup, then a mid-afternoon cup, and pretty soon a 10:00 a.m. cup. Invariably, I soon return to the leaping, loping caffeine high again, and the habit returns. |
|
A
TRIP TO THE HONEY MAN Eleanor
had to make a trip across town, because she was out of honey.
She had put the trip off too long. The experts said eat the local
blend honey where you live, and your allergies will get better.
Sure enough! Whoever said it was right. The doctors, most of them,
snicker at the old wives' tales. Eleanor knew that old wives'
tales were not, as some of the intelligentsia believed, all hogwash.
She knows when she eats the local blend honey, her allergies are
much, much better. |
|
AMANDA
Amanda sat alone inspecting the bright, hot fire on the end of a hard-roll cigarette. She always sat alone--had always been a loner--surely she did not intend to start now to mix it up with girls while she was in the joint. No fool, Amanda had got where she was by mixing--with good-time Charlies, friends of friends (I want you to meet a friend: he's got plenty of goodies). From now on, you could make book on it, Amanda would only choose her associates from those she had known and trusted all her life. "How the hell did I get in a hole like this?" she mused as she sat in the smoke hole in the outer court of the maximum security federal penitentiary. By train, dummy? she scoffed at herself. Yeah, my first train ride, all the way from Seattle to the Big House. She sat, alone and lonely, silently smoking and thinking fondly of folks back home. What would they think if they knew she'd been picked up, booked, tried and found guilty of holding heroin and coke. Oh, yes, she used some of the more glorious narcotics occasionally when partying with a companion. Sometimes, don'tcha know, Mary Jane (would never hurt anybody) just never got you quite high or quite sweet enough. Her dad came back into her reverie, wouldn't he throw a hissy? Lordy, good thing Mom's dead and buried. Shees! Thoughts of home brought back memories of brothers and sisters, scuffling, wrestling, yelling, getting into trouble, and out. Face, it, Amanda you never were very good at abiding by the rules, so snuff the self-pity. Amanda, still smoking, thought of her father and how he would give her a little second-hand smoke from his mouth to hers and how close and warm their times together were, when she was small and he'd rock, rock and smoke, just the two of them. That was the best, just her and her Rock, Dad. Not like Mom. Just thinking of her mother's voice caused waves of rebellion to rise in her breast and her breath came in short, gasping, chokes. "Sheeut!" Amanda sat up suddenly as she heard the loud clanging of the call to quarters for bed check. She kicked a rock and cursed loudly, remembers she would have to roll her own cigarettes tomorrow. She sauntered slowly toward the big house, still deep in nostalgia, thinking of her smoking needs. Having begun to smoke tobacco at nine years, it was inevitable, hanging around with gamblers and devotees of the track, that weed smoking would commence also at an early age. Lord, she never expected to get busted for just carrying a little for a friend. After Amanda served her two years for dealing in heroin, she swore now that she was out she would never hold or use contraband again, and she didn't. "But," Amanda said to herself as she strolled out of the grocery store with two quarts of wine on her way home after her stay in the joint, "A little wine never hurt anybody." Here's an update on AMANDA: She died recently of cancer after a lengthy illness. FYI, she stopped drinking alcohol when she was 40 years old but she never did quit smoking. |
|
A letter to my brand new, very great grandson Dear
Avery, |
|
A STORY FOR LUKE Once upon a time in a faraway land, there lived a very small brown, beautiful boy in a home with his mother and father. They had plenty to eat and many nice things in their home, because the small, beautiful boy's father worked in return for money which was exchanged for the goods they enjoyed in their home. The small, brown, beautiful boy and his mother and daddy were very, very happy in their home in the land of Deadeye. Sometimes the family would take a walk together, and they would walk very slowly down the streets where the merchants had their things to sell. Sometimes the little boy walked slowly, sometimes he would run up ahead and then someone would holler his name, he would turn around and either run faster and laugh while they tried to catch up with him, or, if their voice was stern like "NOW YOU WAIT THERE AND I MEAN IT." Then and only then, he would slow down, waiting impatiently -- impatiently, that means you do it, but you don't want to. The little brown, beautiful boy and his mother and daddy were very happy. They laughed a lot, ate a lot, were together a lot and they hugged each other a lot. One day, the family (mother, daddy and the small brown, beautiful boy) got the suitcases down from the shelf and began to put things in the suitcases, like clothes, underwear and presents (presents are things you buy at the store and give to other people, not yourself or each other). They took the suitcases and all went to a big huge airplane, that is a large door with windows in it and two wings and a tail that you ride up in the clouds in. Well, the little boy and his mother and daddy went a long, long time in the big bird with all of the windows in it. They slept, ate and watched television, and pretty soon they arrived at a place where mommy and daddy started saying "Oh, Ah, Look, and Oh there", and then rode in a car and then went into a house. The house, it looked, it looked why it looked like something in the small, beautiful boy's head, and his big mom started saying things, like, hey honey there's your truck, there's your chair, and things like that. And then the small boy went to sleep, and then he woke up and he was still in the new house, and things were new, but not new, and old but not old, different but like something. When the boy woke up he had cereal out of a bowl that was his very own and went with his mom and daddy to look around. And they lived happily ever after. |
Click here to Share Your Stories About Eva
~ In loving memory of our mother, Eva Ann (Musgrave) Deacon. ~
Copyright © 1997-2008 All Rights Reserved by Kara Oh and John Deacon