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Memories and Moments
Archive for 200609 ( return to current blog )
Thursday September 14, 2006
DAY FIVE
HOME AGAIN HOME AGAIN, JIGGITY JIG
We rose early on Tuesday, October 11, 2005, and started our way down to Las Vegas. It was going to be about 10 hours drive, but we planned and did take many rest stops and ate a good lunch. We each had a soup and whole sandwich. Rich had turkey on sourdough, and I had ham on toasted white, and we took half of each. And we DID get to share marvelous apple pie ala mode' this time. It was just another little dinky hotel casino, but the food was good.
We went through the town of Hawthorne, NV. It is a munitions depot---acres of bunkers all containing arms and munitions. That is actually what supports that tiny town. It kind of freezes your blood looking at all those killing fields.
We pulled in here about 6 p.m., very tired, but glad to look forward to sleeping in our own bed. Rich had been too tired to even think of stopping for a snack before we came on home. About 7 p.m. I made us a "dinner" of bacon and eggs and toast, to make up for the breakfast we didn't have.
When we were climbing into bed, Rich said, "Well, I'm proud of myself, now I know I can 'travel' again."
And I'm proud of him too. He's my best fellow traveler.
The End.
Life is a ball.....
Dance or be a wallflower!
| | Posted by GrannyJo at 10:14 PM - | |
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Tuesday September 12, 2006
My dad passed away in '65 at the young age of 58. I still miss him very much today, we were very close and much alike. I also was extremely close to my maternal grandfather. Grandpa Ralph used to take walks with me and tell me stories of his life in Italy, and I still remember his promise to buy me a 'pony'. He didn't live long enough to do that.
It's getting pretty close now to Grandpa Ralph's 120th birthday and my dad's 99th. On this day of remembrance and mourning for all those who have gone to untimely deaths because of 9-11 and the resulting conflicts, I spent a lot of time thinking about how rough it is to lose loved ones, and also on how youngsters react to losing someone from their lives. I went back through some of the poetry I've written and found this poem from 1972--one of those thoughts that come in the night that you just have to get up and put down on paper. IMO, they come from the memories of the reactions of childhood to losses that we cannot understand. Thought I'd share it here with you today:
GRANDPA IS AN EAGLE
Grandpa is an Eagle,
Last night I saw him fly
Up, from the grass on his own front yard--
Going fast and soaring high.
Grandpa is an Eagle,
So, loved ones, don't you cry.
Grandpa is an Eagle;
But, first he had to die.
I was six years old and the air was cold,
Early in the month of May.
"You won't be going to school," I was told,
"Because Grandpa died today."
They laid him out in his Sunday best,
The neighbors all came around;
And I watched and wept with all the rest,
As they put him in the ground.
So many nights I dreamt him,
And the way it used to be;
Guess my Grandpa wanted to spend
A little more time with me.
In my dream one night, he hugged me tight,
Next, I only saw a bird,
Flapping its wings before it took flight;
And this is what I heard--
TELL THEM!
Grandpa is an Eagle,
Last night I saw him fly
Up, from the grass on his own front yard--
Going fast and soaring high.
Grandpa is an Eagle,
So, loved ones, don't you cry.
Grandpa is an Eagle;
But, first he had to die.
That was forty long years or more ago,
Grandpa never came again--
But, there's times when the month of May is cold
That my memory mourns for him.
Then, when I get to feeling sad,
Wondering why all death must be--
I hear again his happy voice,
Singing out to me....
TELL THEM!
Grandpa is an Eagle,
Last night I saw him fly
Up, from the grass on his own front yard--
Going fast and soaring high.
Grandpa is an Eagle,
So, loved ones, don't you cry.
Grandpa is an Eagle.........
But, first he had to die.
(copyright 1972)
Life is a ball.....
Dance or be a wallflower!
| | Posted by GrannyJo at 12:10 AM - | |
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Saturday September 9, 2006
The other day I visited the forum of an old and dear friend and found the following post that he had gotten in his e-mail.
VALID POINT!!!
Think About This One. It's short but very interesting!
A car company can move its factories to Mexico and claim it's a free market.
A toy company can out source to a Chinese subcontractor and claim it's a free market.
A shoe company can produce its shoes in southeast Asia and claim it's a free market.
A major bank can incorporate in Bermuda to avoid taxes and claim it's a free market.
We can buy HP Printers made in Mexico.
We can buy shirts made in Bangladesh.
We can purchase almost anything we want from 20 different countries.
BUT, heaven help the elderly who dare to buy their prescription
drugs from a Canadian pharmacy...
That's called un-American!
And you think the pharmaceutical companies don't have a powerful lobby? Think again!
That sort of brought the umbrage up in me, because it reminded me about something I've been struggling with for months, and of many other Senior Citizens who have even BIGGER problems with affording the medications they need to survive. I decided to take a chance with the 'big brother' that seems to watch everything we write and say, and posted up the following:
AND IF THAT'S NOT ENOUGH...
Not only are they making it illegal to buy drugs out of the country, they have SO screwed up the application process for MedicareRX that I doubt everyone eligible for the plan understands how to do it!
We went to a MedicareRX seminar in November, supposedly to learn how to apply. I already had done so online, but I wanted to double check myself. What a SIGHT! People on crutches, wheelchairs, hearing aids, half blind and many uneducated in computers and filings---waiting to hear that the best way to apply was to go ONLINE, or visit the local SS office, and bring all your information. WHAT? It is SO SAD for most of our senior citizens.
You know, I applied early in Nov., did everything right, got my card and OK from AARP and on Jan. 3 ordered my first meds at WalMart (still the cheapest in-country source). When I went to pick up my meds, I was overcharged $47, because of a 'mistake' by AARP/Medicare in the computers.
"Do you want the medications?" I was asked. Huh? My diabetes and HBP medications---do I 'WANT' them? Geesh! After being assured I could apply for a refund from AARP, I paid and went home, took my medications and then called AARP.
It took over a month, to get things straightened out between SSMEDICARE and AARP. They finally sent me a form to apply for a refund. I had to send the ORIGINAL register receipt, the ORIGINAL prescription slips on the bottles, and a long refund form. On top of it all, WALGREEN'S does all the refund for AARP! Now I'm not happy sending 'Originals' off, so I copied EVERYTHING for my use and sent off the originals on Feb. 28 2006, and being OK with a 45 to 60 day wait.
It is now September 6. I started calling and looking into my refund around May 15. I have made calls to Walgreens, AARP, Medicare, etc. A GAZILLION of them. You can't talk to ANYONE in the business office. Everytime there is a different person on a phone who sounds like they are from outer Bangledesh, none of THEM can talk to the business offices, either. Everyone passes you on to a 'superior', who ALSO cannot access the business office. It seems any phone calls to the source of the mess is considered an even bigger mess!
Anyway, it is now over 160 days, and I have never even received ONE phone call or letter, per my request, from anyone-let alone someone who knows what the heck is going on. I stopped calling in July. It's futile. I told them then that if I didn't get the refund by July 30, I was going public with the mess.
And here I am. Next stop, Channel 8. 8-)
PS--I do have to say that since that first purchase, I have never had a problem or an overcharge with my meds, and I've saved much more than $47 on my prescriptions,---but it is the principle. It is MY money, and I pay a monthly membership fee. They are making enough already!
I'm wondering, are there any more Seniors out there that want to share some nightmare encountered while trying to stay alive? You know, when you get to the place where you have to choose between soup and synthroid, and it seems like this administration and the pharmaceutical companies have decided just to push us all out on the ice to await the hungry bears---thereby diminishing the surplus population? If so, please share.
End of Saturday rant.
Life is a ball.....
Dance or be a wallflower!
| | Posted by GrannyJo at 12:12 PM - | |
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Thursday September 7, 2006
Copyright
2001
"The Wizard of OOze" which is presented just below came from a 'healing dream' about a time that was rife with both internet and real life stalking by a sick person, who is represented by TaTa in the story.
During that time a friend and I were both subjected to spamming of many different forums, complete with revelation of our personal information, such as SS numbers, addresses and other private things. If that wasn't enough, false charges and harrassing phone calls were made to work places, police were called to our homes, and the stalker even parked across the street from my home, then gave descriptions of it on line, though he was from CA and I live in NV.
Frustrated for more than two years with our legal system that chooses quite often to ignore complaints about such actions, the matter was finally taken to the courts. Even today, though, we wonder if our problem was really resolved, or is he out there, stalking someone else and hoping to return to us?
During some sleepless nights I took to writing some poetry (it rhymes, sorry) about the stalker and satirized his character, just for my own laughs. However, as I read these over again today, I realize how close my writings are to what he is, and how scary they were in those long nights.
FROM A LESS GENTLE TIME
I.
May 6 2001
THE LOST ONE
He comes in hate, stained with evil and distrust,
The dismay of all those unfortunates in his path.
He is an ending without a beginning,
A walking death, bereaft of the knowledge of life.
Never to be the last man standing,
Only a simpleton staggering.
Lurching through this world in broken cadence,
Reeling through his maze of hate.
Always angry, always destructing, and always alone.
Never finding true life, he begrudges the world.
He is a stranger to humanity.
He is
THE LOST ONE.
*****
II.
August 27, 2000
SWEATS ON A SATURDAY NIGHT
It's twilight; the birds
Have ceased their songs
And twitter as they hunker down
In the trees of a sandbound
California town.
People are about their dinner,
Children pad to eat, freshly bathed,
In pajamas perfumed with Downy.
The good are relaxed and what is best,
Preparing for their night of deserved rest.
Front door slams at the home of Mr. Evil,
Sturdy lock turned and double checked.
Nothing shows through the closely drawn drapes,
Only a flickering nightlight in his bedroom window
Fights off the gathering darkness.
Fearfully looking round for the enemies of
His mind, Mr. Evil scurries to a dusty car,
Takes his seat upon the pillow raised, and
Fumbles at the motor, at last swiftly backing,
Making his escape from gloom to
A little dive called Pinkies' Room.
He can hear the chatter as he reaches
The door, and pushing it open, steps
Upon Peppermint Sticky floor; Rose's light washes
Over and about; Flamingo Padded Bar beckons
To Cotton Candy Stool, so fluffy, yet stout.
He minces across the floor in silence
So grave, each patron turned and staring at
This incoming knave, all spruced and shaven,
Smelling of Old Spice; all eyes of watching
Company have changed to pink ice.
"Scotch with Bud back," he says as
The tender, who has it all ready,
(He always remembers), watches
Mr. Evil swiftly quaff, sees eyes,
On the prowl, dart from bar up to the loft.
The juke box is starving, no one there will feed
That Creature of Company, Mr. Evil's true need.
In the pink, staring, silence, a trickle begins,
Down from nape, along short, slack, spine.
Hysterically, he loses sense of place or time.
Crystal mirror is showing the patrons behind, all
Steely and Tooth-ed, and frozen in slime.
But, these are his Peers, all happy and gay!
What mood is upon them, what drives them
This way, today; making him pay?
He can't stand the silence, even in this
Pink room. He's sweaty and clammy
And sensing a doom in each staring eye.
He drinks up and orders another, "The same,
Scotch with Bud back," quavers the refrain.
He can't meet those eyes, even in mirror,
Fanciful shapes and heads grow ever
More queer; shifting and morphing with
Help of Scotch and a Bud, they look back
From reflection, and they sneer, 'you crud'.
Mr. Evil slips off cushy pink stool, all dripping
And fearful; backs away from leering eyes
,
With his own all tear full; They've
Found him right here--caught in his flight
From the terror of Sweats on a Saturday Night.
*****
III.
August 24, 2000
IN THE BED OF MR. EVIL
It comes each gentle summer's night,
Undulating on padded belly,
Over cool, quilted dunes,
Seeking, ever seeking.
Slithering between, beneath,
Covers hand-clenched to quivering chin,
Un-noticed by eyes staring widely at the gloom;
Seeking, ever seeking.
Over quivering pect, around startled nipple,
Into the sour stench of sweating pit,
Lapping softly, laughing hotly, it moves.
Seeking, ever seeking.
So comes the trembling, sweaty fumbling.
Jerky limbs twitch in time to sobs arumbling,
Tasting tears on pudgy cheeks.
Seeking, ever seeking.
Then rising higher, all afire with delight,
It wavers close to the sought after ear.
Those lips so near, in voice so clear, spake,
"At last, Mr. Evil, you have found MASTER FEAR!"
Life is a ball.....
Dance or be a wallflower!
| | Posted by GrannyJo at 8:04 PM - | |
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Tuesday September 5, 2006
OK, kiddies, gather around--it's story time!
When I first came to the WWW, I was unfortunate enough to run into a stalker (and buddies) who caused both me and a friend some anguished years of on-line and 3D woes. That's a long story, which ended with some legal efforts that made the baddies go away--I hope.
Anyway, one night I awoke with the idea for this satirical tale about the people, their personalities and a play on some of the experiences that occurred on various forums during the years between 1998 and 2002. You may even get a hint of some celebrity personalities hidden among the characters! One more GrannyJo memory!
Be aware--profound use of 'tongue-in-cheek' going on here. Oh Yes...Any similarities to persons living, dead, or incarcerated are 'probably' co-incidental! 8-)
Come along with me now, into the fantasy cyber world of ......
THE WIZARD OF OOzE
Copyright
July 23, 2002
CHAPTER 1
Once upon years & years, on the Net farm in a place called Candida, there lived a girl who refused to grow up called Nahomi, and her Rapid (a sort of Scosh Terror) dog, TaTa. Nahomi had no parents and she lived under the sturdy control and love of her Aunty Kadie and Uncle Hashish, Net.
It was tough running the big Net farm all alone, so Aunty Kadie & Uncle Hashish had some hired hands to help out with the chores. They were called Moanen, Pissen, and Groanen--Cliff Moanen, Billy Pissen and Rick Groanen, to be exact. The hands loved Nahomi, and played with her every chance they could get. Still, Nahomi was never a really happy girl. She thought the Net farm was just tooooo lonesome and mundane for a girl who was really a princess.
One day, Nahomi’s Rapid dog, TaTa, attacked a nice old lady while she was riding a bike past the Net farm. The nice old lady, who was having none of it, called the local posse and got a confiscation warrant for TaTa. She put him in a cage and set off to the local pound to get him tested for rabies and ‘fixed’. TaTa wasn’t a Rapid breed for nothing, though. He squeezed between the bars of the cage (he was still a puppy then) and took off to the waiting arms of Nahomi, who just knew that “wicked old witch” was lying. Her TaTa would never try to hurt anyone--he was way too gay and frisky to be mean! Nahomi decided to run away with TaTa, to save him from Old Witch and she quickly took off down the dusty road toward Diamond Barnone with him, where she believed they would be safe forever more.
Soon it was getting hotter and dustier, and TaTa was giving his hungry grrrr. Nahomi could see an RV pulled off the road up ahead, and she could swear she smelled hot dogs and macaroni & cheese wafting toward them. It did so remind her of Aunty Kadie! A few minutes later, Nahomi and TaTa were walking up to the RV and could now see the colorful masks painted all over the side. Welcome to Secrets Revealed floated above the masks. “Now that’s curious, TaTa,” said Nahomi. “Heaven knows, I want to know as many secrets as I can find!”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a kindly looking, chubby old man stepped out from around the van. He smiled and asked, “Running away, be you, lassie?”
“How..how did yyyyou kkknow?” Nahomi stammered.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!...There are no secrets kept from Stash the Great! I see, too, that you are hungry, and yer little dog, also. He is a fine Rapid, as far as Rapids go....here, Boy!”, Stash the Great laughed as he tossed TaTa a piping hot wiener from the brazier.
TaTa, who wasn’t too smart about taking hot things in his mouth, caught it in mid-air, gobbled it down and then ran around yapping with his tail between his legs. He finally spotted the crick running nearby and yapped his way over to try to cool his dumb mouth. Meanwhile, Stash scooped a nice hot bowl of macaroni and cheese for Nahomi, set it carefully on his lap, handed her a spoon, and told her to eat up!
Nahomi mumbled through her big mouthfuls, “So, Stash the Great, can we go with you to discover all the Secrets of the Universe? We don’t eat...much. There was just a whole lot that we couldn’t see or do on the Net farm; Aunty Kadie was sooooo strict, and the farm hands were really not too bright. I deserve better.”
“Well, lassie, you be too inexperienced to be travelin’ with a showman like me. Best you be taken’ yerself & yer little pup back to the farm. Thar be a big storm coming over the bracken, and you be better off all cozied up in the fruit cellar of that thar Net farm then out in the whirlwind, that’s fer shure. Thar’ll be time fer secrets sooner than you like, I’ll promise ya that!”
Nahomi could see the truth in the eyes of Stash the Great, so she quickly picked up TaTa, who was too roly poly to run very fast, and scampered back toward the Net farm. The wind swirled dust around them, dark clouds rolled over their heads, and Nahomi could see the lightening flashing up ahead. She ran faster when the dull rumble of thunder came as soon as she had counted to only one thousand and six!
Meanwhile, on the farm, everyone was worried sick about Nahomi. They knew a tornado was coming and the only safe place would be in the fruit cellar under the house. They just had to get in there, but where was Nahomi? Running all around the Net, Moanen, Pissen & Groanen tried to get a handle on her whereabouts, to no avail. Finally they all had to give up and go into lockdown in the cellar.
In just minutes after the others were safe in the fruit cellar, Nahomi staggered into the house, calling, “Aunty Kadie! Uncle Hashish! Where are you? I’m frightened, I need you! Oh, TaTa, where is everybody?!"
Just then the whirlwind hit the little house in the middle of the Net farm. Crash! Bang! The window in Nahomi’s room gave way and she stumbled in her fear and hit her head on the little Wurlitzer radio that sat on the table by her bed. "Oh Candida" blasted on, while Nahomi fell senseless down on her bed. Little Stars & Stripes whirled around & around before her shut-tight eyes. The 'wicked old witch' rode her bike through the whirlwind in the sky, with TaTa yapping out of the cage behind her. An RV with pretty masks all over it and filled with macaroni & cheese chased after the bike rider. Lo, Nahomi could only behold as the little house, reaped off the Net farm by the whirlwind, soared and tumbled up and up.
Nahomi mumbled senselessly, “I wanna know, I wanna know, I wanna know...”
(To Be Continued)
| | Posted by GrannyJo at 6:08 AM - | |
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