My mom was an artist. As an artist, she found many outlets for her creativity. One outlet was painting ceramics. Her dad and stepmother owned a ceramic shop and she helped out. Along the way, her family were benefactors of ceramic projects big and small. I remember her painting four angel ornaments for the tree. One boy and three girls, or in other words, one for my brother and one for my sisters and me.
For years the angels hung on her Christmas tree every year. Her little angels painted with love by our guardian angel.
Every year for thirty some years her angels hung on momma’s tree.
But all things come to an end. This Christmas, the angels were divided and each hung on different trees in two states and three towns. Mom’s angels are separated by distance but still connected by memory and love.
Twenty some years ago I left home for the first time. No practice runs or degrees of separation I jumped right into leaving my hometown when I served a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Continue reading
The title is misleading a bit. I have always considered myself a Red Sox fan by inheritance. My fan status for all my sports teams comes from my dad. He likes the Denver Broncos. I like the Broncos. He likes the Boston Red Sox. I like the Red Sox. He is a Wyoming Cowboy through and through. I’m a Cowboy. I don’t have to invest time watching the games, I’m just a fan. It’s in my blood. I just keep track of the final score. It’s not all that difficult to do since I usually hear about the game from my dad. Continue reading
I recently had the opportunity to babysit Bubba’s two children, Lil B and Lil K. As mentioned in a previous post, at the time they were two months shy of four and one week shy of two. In other words, they were full of energy. We were staying at my sister’s at the time and they were doing what children do best – keeping themselves occupied and busy. My sister has a small replica of the Christus that proved to be a temptation for little fingers and busy hands. They wanted to touch it. Of course, since it wasn’t their home or statue their dad had warned them not to touch it. They heard the admonition, they understood the meaning, their desire to touch increased. Continue reading
My siblings and I have all commented on our dad’s ability to meet friends. No matter where we go, people just gravitate to dad and become a friend. For him, a stranger is just a friend he hasn’t met yet. Continue reading
I’m trying to sleep.
Sleep must come, it must come now.
But it won’t come
when there are noises soft but loud. Continue reading
The Set Up
A week after my oldest grand-nephew’s birthday he set a date for his baptism. His family lives 257 miles away. No problem! This is a special day so of course I wanted to be there. Not just me but most of my other family members were going to be there. Even his aunt who lives 10 hours away was making the trip. The date may have said the end of winter on the calendar but this is Wyoming so we prayed for decent weather which is Wyoming talk for decent roads. It was the first family gathering since Christmas and I was excited to see everyone. February had been particularly stressful so I was looking forward to a mini-vacation. I booked a hotel room and I had a book on CD to listen to on the trip. I looked forward to the weekend. Continue reading
I have mentioned my country phase in the ‘90’s before. Yes, I rode the Garth Brooks’ wave into the country scene and became a die-hard fan. I dressed the part; I listened to the part; I even taught my two year old niece the part. Then something happened in the late ‘90’s when I decided my plunge in the CW world made me feel old. I can’t explain it. One day toward the millennium I felt I had missed out on a whole decade of music because I was so focused on only one brand. With a few exceptions (looking at you Reba and Lari) I boxed up or gave away my CDs. Put my cowboy boots in the back of my closet and essentially closed the door on my country-western phase. Continue reading
The cowboy might have been
a tough ranch hand
alone most days
set in his ways
a nomad roaming the land. Continue reading
I wrote this poem awhile ago and couldn’t get it quite right. It’s not my favorite but I like the story so I’m sharing it anyway. It’s what I call a snapshot poem where I try to use words to capture a moment. Here’s the moment: I accompanied my 82 year old father to the funeral of his first grade teacher. Her name really was Ms. Necessary and I thought with a name like that I needed to write something. Ms. Necessary ended up marrying and no longer was (I have to write it) Necessary. But for my dad she always was Ms. Necessary.
Dear Ms. Necessary’s
Reliance first grade class
was not her first time teaching
but it was far from her last. Continue reading