I heard through a "friend of an ex friend", that the man that I used to love is going back to Iraq soon. I have to admit that when I heard that my heart stood still for a minute. It's funny how you think that you are over someone and you don't care anymore, but when you hear something like that, it makes you think. I feel so undecided about this war. I marched against Vietnam in the 70's and the deaths of all these people make me crazy BUT I am very uneasy about terrorism. I have been in countries that don't have democracy and it isn't pleasant. I have seen a villager cut to peices by a warlord in Africa. I love America. It is one of the few countries in the world that you CAN voice a negative opinion about politics or the leader, and live to say it again. I see the bodies of War victims on TV and each face could be the face of my sons or brothers. I cry for the protesters and I cry for the War dead. I met this man when he was in Iraq the first time. We were "pen pals". he came home and we were together for two years. Age and distance helped to end it, but he will always matter to me. He was the one man in my life that touched my heart, the one man that understood the things in my life that cause me nightmares. I will now join the ranks of people that check the list of the War dead daily. I will now pray for someone that I know over there. Someone that I once loved so very much. Someone that I quite possibly still love. I will now join the ranks of the people whose heart breaks every night on the TV news. Be safe Kevin and come home alive.. Please...

There is an old Johnny Cash song that's called, " I Still Miss Someone". I used to play it on my guitar. I haven't thought about it or sung it in years. This morning, I woke up singing it to myself and I can't get it out of my mind. The lyrics go like this;
At my Door the leaves are falling,
a cold, wild wind has come,
Sweethearts walk by together
and I still miss someone.

I go out to a party
and look for a little fun
but I find a darkened corner
cause I still miss someone.

No, I never got over those blue eyes
I see them everywhere
I miss those arms that held me
when all the love was there.

I wonder if he's sorry
for leavin what we'd begun
There's someone for me somewhere
but I still miss someone.

Logically, I know why I am thinking about that song. I talked to my first husband last night. The one that I married when I was very young and full of dreams. Dreams of a house full of children, Sunday dinners and picket fences. I still miss that time of my life but I don't miss him. I miss being young and knowing that I had many, many years to make my dreams come true. I wanted to grow old with someone and sit on the porch and watch the sun go down. I don't know if that will happen anymore. I married him very young and then was divorced for many, long years. I then married again and he committed suicide. I suppose that the man that I loved the most wasn't even my husband. His name was Kevin and I loved him with every ounce of my being. We had our own little family and he dissappeared. He certainly didn't turn out to be the man that I thought that he was. At all. But, I guess that when I hear that song, I still think of him. I will probably sit on my porch surrounded by old dogs and one or two good women friends. We will drink wine and watch birds and talk about the ones that got away. The ones that we LET get away. Maybe that is my happy ending.Maybe not...

John Prine may be my favorite singer. He has a song where some of the lyrics are;" I hate graveyards and old pawnshops, cause they always bring me tears". I agree with him. I am at the point that I have to pawn some stuff. Those of you that know what is happening in my life will understand. Those of you that have never been in this situation, I am happy for you. When I walk in the door of most pawnshops, all I see are memories. Wedding bands, diamond engagement rings, TV's, VCRs and all kinds of memories. I always wonder what happened. How did that day when he slipped that ring on her finger go so very wrong? Did he cheat? Did she cheat? Is it simplier than that? Did the baby get sick and they had no money for medicines? I imagine the family when they lifted that new TV in the back of thier pickup truck. Were the kids happy and giggling? Pawnshops have an air of defeat about them. You are at the end of your rope when you pawn things that you love. You are taking a chance that you may never get them back. Down the road, you will wonder if someone is wearing your grandmothers ring? You wonder if they will love it as much as you did? I am at the end of my rope....and I will wonder... and I will cry...

Happy Fathers Day to all of the good and kind fathers out there. I didn't have one of those so, for years this holiday made me cringe. Late in my life my mom married the man that would be the only father that I ever had. His name was Dr. Rodger Buck. I loved him and I miss him. He was an incredible man. He was a Navy surgeon in the Second World War. He showed me pictures of the guys lashing him to the rails of the ship so that he could continue to operate without falling overboard. After the war was over, he taught at Harvard. Then he became a Doctor at an Indian Reservation. He was the only white man that has ever been adopted into the Corn tribe. Those are just some of his accomplishments. The thing that I am the most proud of is the way that he treated everyone. He NEVER showed any type of prejudice toward anyone. Many years ago, ( after he married my mom and moved to Montgomery) he delighted in taking blacks and Asians golfing at the country club just to watch the old, fat, southern men almost stroke out. I don't know how to put into words what he did mean to me. He believed in me and listened to me. He loved and respected my mother. He was a GOOD man. I often wonder how my life would have been different if he had always been my dad? I will never know but I do know this, When I think of the word father.... I think of Rodger. He is gone now and it came much too early. He is missed and he was loved. Happy Fathers Day Rodger.

I recently got a wonderful present in the mail from my blog friend. ( You know who you are,,,and Thank You). It was a DVD of BURY MY HEART AT WOUNDED KNEE. I really wanted to see it when it was on HBO, but don't have that channel. I watched the movie with tears streaming down my face. It affected me in so many ways, most of all because it is about my ancestors. My family. The people that helped make me who I am today.
On December 29, 1890, the last battle between Indians and Whites took place. In South Dakota a Paiute Holy Man named Wovoka started spreading the gospel that became THE GHOST DANCE. Most of the Indian tribes were on reservations by then and they desperately needed something to believe in. Something to give them hope. Wovoka told them that the earth would perish, but then come alive again and be inherited by the Indians. He urged them to shun all the ways of the white man. That would cause problems because by then the Lakota Sioux were already following the white mans command. They had no choice. The had lost almost all of thier hunting grounds and were dependent on whites for food, blankets and medicines. Wovoka told them that if they danced THE GHOST DANCE that they would briefly die and catch a glimpse of the Paradise to come. He believed that Special Ghost dance shirts would protect them from the White mans bullets. Needing something to believe in, they danced. My grandmother told me that they may have danced to keep warm as well. She was told by her mother that most of the buffalo robes had rotted and they were unable to kill more for blankets. White men became alarmed at the Indians "religious fervor" and banned the Ghost Dance on reservations. I imagine that they thought" NO, they have taken everything else from us. They won't take this". The whites called in Military troops to the Pine Ridge and Rosebud reservations. ( where I have family). The Indians decided to go to a corner of the reservations that was supposed to be sheltered to dance, away from the White man's prying eyes. They called for Chief Sitting Bull to join them but before he could, he was arrested. Sitting Bull and seven of his warriors were killed. On the moring of December 29,1890, the soldiers entered the camp and demanded that the Indians give up thier guns. A medicine man, Yellow Bird urged them to resist and reminded them that the Ghost Shirts would protect them against bullets. One of the soldiers tried to disarm a deaf Indian. A scuffle followed and a gun went off. The Indians started running and were mowed down. It lasted less than an hour but at least 150 Indians were killed and 50 wounded. The US Army suffered far less casualties. " Wounded Knee" became a catch phrase for all of the wrongs done to Indians by the Whites. My grandmother had a very old newspaper clip that described Wounded Knee as " a great victory over the savage Red Man". It still breaks my heart and I wonder if I would have had cousins that I have never been able to meet. I wonder how many of my family were killed. I will never know, BUT, watching that movie broke my heart.