Some people,
no matter how old they get,
Never lose their beauty-
They merely move it from their
faces
into their hearts.
Martin Buxbaum

I love old people. I love their stories. I love their histories. I love to listen to them talk about the War or the very first time they kissed Sally. We tend to ignore old people in this country. When they haved outlived their usefullness, we stick them away in homes with long halls full of rooms that smell like urine and impending death. Sometimes, there isn't a choice. My stepfather was THE most brilliant man that I have ever known. He was an MD and he had his PHD. He was a surgeon on a battleship in the war and he was a Doctor on an Indian reservation. He taught at Harvard Medical School and he went on digs in Peru. He was kind and he was giving. When he was 73 , he started getting lost. He couldn't find his way home. He forgot who my mother was and he forgot who he was. When we first found out that he had Alzheimers, he made me promise that I would give him an overdose. I broke that promise. My grandmothers had wonderful stories as well. As I got older, I was too busy living my life to continue listening to them. I regret that so much. I lost part of MY history because of that. We women, tend to fear growing older more than men , I think. WE buy magic potions to banish wrinkles and color our hair to get rid of the grey. I am ashamed of that but I am also guilty. I had a friend who has been dead three years. He had a heart attack at 45. He was gorgeous. Movie Star Handsome. He was an attorney. He married a woman 15 years older than he was. Her face was lined while his was smooth. Her hair was getting brittle while his was still fine. He loved her. He didn't care who saw them together. He was proud of her. He KNEW what I didn't at the time. That she was wiser and kinder because of age. I wish that I had told him how proud I was of him. I wish that I had listened more to my stepfather and grandparents while I still had the time. Sometimes it's too late. Time runs out and we regret it. If you are lucky enough to still have grandparents... Listen to them. Ask them questions. Don't end up with regrets. It's not a good feeling.

I read in the news that " someone who didn't believe in the war" spit on a returning soldier. The moment that I read that I was consumed with anger. You may not agree with me ( and that's your right) but I think that person should be arrested for treason. I don't believe in War and the reason is that lives are lost BUT I do believe that soldiers are heroes. I believe in the right for PEACEFUL protest, but this poor soldier was returning from a place like Hell. He may have come close to being killed. He may have seen his best buddy killed. I don't know. I DO know this. He was risking his life for this jerk to live in a country where he CAN spit on a soldier. Yesterday in Iraq suicide bombers killed 200 people. These people were civilians. Not military. They came out of thier house at 8 PM to get some cool air and talk with neighbors. Four trucks loaded with explosives blew up at the same time in residential areas. The victims had done nothing but belonged to the Yazidi Sect, a religious minority
and some killers decided that they didn't deserve to live. The US Military sent in troops to help the wounded and machinery to clear debris. The US Military was there to help. I love soldiers. I respect soldiers. I never knew my paternal grandfather because he stepped on a landmine in World War Two. He was fighting for another country's freedom. The man that I loved may be in Iraq now. I don't know. It will be his third trip if he is. He has children that would miss him and I would still mourn him if anything happened to him. I pray every night that it won't. Spitting on a soldier? I can't think of anything more sickening. I hope that person is proud of himself. I'm not.

Today is my son Jeremy's Birthday. He is 33 years old. ( Can I really be that old?) I am soo lucky to be his mom. Don't get me wrong, we had our times of butting heads when he was a teenager, but all in all the years have been good. I married his dad when I was 18 years old. I didn't love him but I wanted to get away from my dad. ( long story there). Something really bad happened and then Jeremy was born. I left his father when Jeremy was three weeks old and it's been pretty much him and I for all these years. There were times when we didn't have much but we have always been a team. He has never been afraid to come to me and tell me anything and I am proud of that. On Labor day weekend when he was 18 years old, he was going out with friends. I had a really bad feeling and asked him not to go. I BEGGED him not to go. He was used to my "feelings" and knew that they almost always came true, so he hesitated but went anyway. I was so afraid and couldn't really say why. I prayed and asked God to send his angels to protect Jeremy. ( not a bad idea when your kids go out). At
midnight, I got that call. That call that every parent is afraid of getting. It was the hospital and they told me to get there right away. They wouldn't tell me if he was dead or alive. They would only say, " there has been an accident, get here right away". I was almost hysterical driving to the hospital. All of the kids in the car BUT Jeremy and one more had been killed. The driver was drunk, was speeding, went off the road and hit a tree.There were five kids in that car that died that night. I can not tell you how it feels to be leaning against a hospital wall, thanking God for saving your child while hearing other parents screaming and wailing because thier children died. I will NEVER forget that. Jeremy was very badly hurt and had several surgeries BUT he was alive. I had to stop working for six months to stay home with him. He had to learn to walk again and still has a rod in his leg. He told me later that almost at impact, he felt like something soft and "cushiony" was wrapped around him. I knew that was the wings of angels. I have no doubt. Happy Birthday to my son, one of my reasons for living. One of my reasons for believing. You are a gift from God and I treasure you.

" My life is full of mistakes- They're like pebbles that make a good road". Beatrice Wood

I saw this quotation the other day and could really relate to it. I would imagine that most ( if not all ) of us have made mistakes. I have a lot of things that I wish I could have done differant. I wish that I had gone to medical School many years ago. Don't get me wrong, being a nurse served me well for many years, but being a doctor would have enabled me to better afford my responsibilities. I wish that I had traveled more for pleasure. Just taken off to Ireland or Greece or Tuscany. The places that my heart wants to go. I wish that I could have married the man that I loved and not the two that I didn't. I wish that I had listened to other people and not trusted a few folks. I wish that I had just gotten in my car and driven to another state and proven to "Patrick" that I was telling the truth about some things. I wish that I could do many things over BUT the things that I ended up doing taught me so much. I know how to love because I took a chance on someone. Someone whose own mother told me not to love. I know how heartbreak feels because That love didn't last. I have kissed the top of babies heads. Babies that I love so much. I have seen the sun set on the red rocks of the west. A place that will always feel like home to me. I have felt the bitter pain of betrayal of friends and the joy of trusting other friends. I have had prayers answered and had some not answered. Only God knows why they weren't. I have read good books and been unable to finish bad ones. My life HAS been a good road. I have some regrets but I have had many, many blessings. I am thankful for all of them. The good and the bad. They made me the person that I am. It could have been worse.

Some of you may know who Frank Lloyd Wright was. I had heard of him but only recently have begun to appreciate his work. He was one of the world's most famous architects. His most famous "public building"
may be the GUGGENHEIM MUSEUM in New York City. I have been there and it is really a treat. From the outside it looks like a giant bee hive. When you go inside, you go to the top and wind down and around the aisles. His homes and estates that he built for himself or others are incredible as well. I didn't know about his life until a few days ago though. He was born Frank Lincoln Wright in 1867 in Wisconsin. He would change his middle name when his parents divorced. He died in 1959 in Phoenix, Arizona at the age of 92. In all,he married three times, had a tragic affair with a mistress and fathered 7 children. He was considered reckless, unpredictable and arrogant by his peers. In 1889 he was at a church social and met 17 year old Catherine ( KItty) Lee. Frank had six children with Kitty. Thier son John,was the inventor of LINCOLN LOGS. Years into the marriage Frank began an affair with a married woman named Mamah Cheney that would have a tragic ending. Catherine found out about the affair but believed that Frank would return to her and thier children. Catherine called Mamah a "vampire" and believed that Frank was a victim. During 1909-1910, she ( Catherine) held on to the hope that "her love, her lonely vigil and her faithfullness would bring him home". Catherine didn't grant Frank a divorce until 1922 and he was required to pay $250 dollars a month in alimony. Frank had met Mamah years before when her husband commissioned him to build thier family home. Having left his wife and children even before the divorce, Frank continued his relationship with Mamah. When Mamah's husband was in Europe on
business, she and her two children moved in with Frank into his Estate called Taliesin. ( one of his most famous and beautiful private homes) near Spring Green, Wisconsin. On August 15, 1914,
Manah and her children sat down to lunch. In another room, six of Wright's staff were eating lunch as well. A servant, Julian Carleton, bolted the doors and windows, poured gasoline around the outside of the house and lit it. As the house began to burn, he took a hatchet and murdered Mamah and her children. He then went after the workmen. Two survived by smashing through a window. At his office, Wright recieved a phone call telling him about the fire, but when he got to the train station he was told the entire story by waiting reporters. In spite of his grief over Mamah, Frank became involved with Miriam Noel. Miriam had written frank a letter of condolence. They met, started seeing each other and married. They married in 1923 in a midnight ceremony in the middle of a bridge that crosses the Wisconsin River. Miriam accused Frank of cruelty and they fought often. She was addicted to Morphine which helped lead to the failure of thier marriage. They divorced in 1927. Olga Milanoff was 33 years younger than Frank when they met. They met at The Petrograd Ballet in Chicago in 1924 while she was seperated from her husband.( it probably didn't help Franks marriages, that he got involved with other women before he was divorced). There were legal problems between Olga and her husband concerning custody of thier daughter. Olga and Frank were married In 1928 and stayed married until his death in 1959. Frank was originally buried but Olga had him exhumed and cremated. Thier ashes are together On the grounds of Taliesin, his tragic estate....... it struck me as I read about his life how I would have never assumed any of this by looking at his work. His work brings out a sense of peace to me. You just never know. I hope that I didn't bore ya'll to death with this. Have a good weekend.