The POW and Bravery

 This isn't a pleasant story today but one I feel led to tell. I've taken care of a lot of Vietnam Vets over the years. One of them told me about being a POW for 5 years. He called me at night so that I could read to him, while he sat in a dark closet. I would keep watch while he slept. He had been tortured so badly and his body wore the scars. When he would give talks at the VA to soldiers that wanted to give up, he always started the meeting by removing his shirt. Some of them wept.

Some of them gained hope that if this man can survive, so can we. This is the lesson for us all. This man who escaped and was free, went back to get the 4 other men in the water. I asked him, "weren't you afraid?" He replied,"there is no bravery without fear." He taught me so much. I only met him once and we just hugged. A man and a nurse. Let's be brave for all those gone now, who fought for us. I love y'all so much. We're gonna make it. 🦋🫂💙 

Skating Car Hop at A&W

 I used to be a skating car hop here in the 60s when I was 16. I still have my skates, but don't use them anymore. This job paid me 50 cents an hr plus I kept all my tips. 

The tips were significant because the Navy base was close by. They made my $58 car payment for my banana yellow 67 Mustang and gave me plenty of spending money. 

I don't have any photos of me skating but they live in my memories. 

Day 6 of Covid and on the mend. Im thankful and I love  y'all. Always, Kimmee.🦋💙🫂

The Year My Dad Died

 The year was 1986. My Dad had been in a motor vehicle accident and was on life support. 

I was in San Jose and had a 1 yr old and a 12 yr old when my sister called me and told me my dad was in a wreck. I was as devastated as I was in 1977, receiving a telegram on Okinawa that said, "Daddy had a stroke. He's expected to make it. Jesus is Lord."   

This 1986 call was different because I could hear the anguish in her voice. I knew that meant that Daddy may not make it. 

My family immediately packed our van for the trip across the country. 

Usually, packing our van up meant that we were going to Monterey overnight or to Point Reyes, but this time, it was a different feel for us. 

We hurried across the US as fast as we could and  went to the Baptist Hospital to see Daddy. 

I was struck by this thin, gaunt man who was my daddy. In my mind, he was always bigger than life with his 6'4" frame, but this time, he looked like he knew that this was it.

He opened his eyes and saw me. I could feel the joy in seeing me jump from his eyes to mine. 

I tried desperately to control my tears, but I knew deep in my heart that this time, daddy wasn't going to make it. 

The next two weeks seemed unreal. The medical staff were angels, and we had been told that he had broken C2 and C3 and would never walk, talk, or breathe on his own. The enormity of those words hit us all hard. There were 5 of the 6 kids present, and a decision had to be made.

We talked to Daddy the whole time, and he was communicating by blinking his eyes. 

One time for No and two times for yes. 

One of us had to ask him the question, and because I had some medical knowledge, I was chosen. 

"Daddy, can you hear me?" Two blinks. 

"Daddy, I have to talk with you about what has happened." 

After my explanation, I asked him. "Daddy, do you want to live this way?"  

One Blink, and I waited for the second one that never came. My daddy was 74 years old and knew that death was coming as soon as they pulled the plug. 

Visitors were only 2 at a time, but when the decision was made and we were all in consensus,  they let us all come in to say goodbye. I'll never forget the tear that slid out of Daddy's eye. I was his lil ole gal, and we would never walk or talk together again.  

One hour after the machines were off, his heart stopped. He was alone with nursing staff, and I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for not being by his side. They didn't allow family to witness the death in those days. I'm not sure if they allow it now or not, but I should have asked to be there. 

After the funeral, we made our way back to CA, where I was bereft and grieving. 

The abusive alcoholic had morphed into the best daddy a body could ever have.and I was devastated, crying uncontrollably most days. 

One of those times, I was sobbing and then felt a presence in my room. When I opened my eyes, my daddy and mama stood to the left side of my bedroom. Daddy said, " Don't cry, lil ole gal. I'm with your mama and have no pain."

I can swear that they were as real as you and me standing in my room, and they were happy,  smiling easily as they never had in life. 

I will always miss you, Daddy, and I am so thankful for all those silent lessons that you taught me. Thank you for telling me when I was a kid, that I was smart and was gonna go to college. 

Thank you for working so hard, for so lil money all those years, but most of all, thank you for quitting drinking and for giving me a reason to say, Happy Father's Day. Love always, your lil ole gal. 💙

Dream For A Healthier Planet

 So, I had one of my dreams again during my nap today. A very different dream.

We were focusing on  a fund raiser to save the Ocean Wildlife by walking from the bottom side of one coast to the top side of one coast and we were doing that in the water. We had to stay in the shallow part to walk but there was a small boat that stayed beside us to provide water and food as we needed and a bathroom but the rest of the time we were walking in shifts completely up the coast to raise money and awareness about the lives of the Ocean Animals. 

It started out like any day, sunny overhead and not much stirring but the sea birds, hoping for a snack from us. But it sooned turned adventurous.  A large school of dolphin came close to us and wanted to check out who the humans were walking along the shore for such a long distance. At first we thought they were sharks but then they started jumping and we knew that they were dolphins. They stayed with us for  a really long while as we walked, day after day. I don't know if it was for protection or what but they would not leave our sides. 

A day later we ran into a shark. He was huge and floating upside down in the water just to the left of our boat.  I did not know if the dolphins had seen a situation ahead and stayed with us for protection or if they had gone ahead and made sure that we were safe for our walk?

We continued day after day walking, resting, sleeping and soon a large group of people were following us like Forest Gump. They were surfers and teachers and artists and naturalist concerned with saving our Ocean so that we save the life on the land. Without water, there is no life.  That was the strong message that came forward in the group and millions of dollars was raised by our little trek for this purpose, to purify the water on this planet to sustain life. 

I woke up when the message made itself clear and was amazed by what started out as a trek to save the aquatic wildlife and it became a trek to save us as humans... 

It felt so good in the dream and I had to come share that, at least in my dreams, I am one with the planet and the animals that inhabit it. I work to save it from destruction and enlist the aid of others along the way  to help with it and the animals know and understand what we were doing and were helping us too. 

Maybe we all aren't so different. Maybe we are just animals trying to make our world a better place and maybe we don't always know how to go about doing that without hurting others. I don't know the huge big meaning of the dream but it was so pleasant and I wish you all could have been with me, walking to make the world a better place...

In the dream, I could walk y'all... Endlessly... *sigh* 

I love you, Kimmee

Homemade Biscuits and "Mater" Gravy

 I learned to make biscuits when I was this side of 8 years old. We didn't have a Mama at home most of the time and the boys did the cooking,  after my sister Ruby married. 

I was just 7 years old at that time and little did I know that my outdoor days of running and playing were about to come to a curtailed end.   

One day my brother Ernest said," come here gal, I'm gonna help you to fix some biscuits."  I was so excited that I couldn't come fast enough. I still remember my first biscuits.  Hard  as rocks cause I had messed with the dough too much, messy looking with cracks cause I had not finessed the tuck and circular motion that makes them pretty,  but within a year, I was making some pretty edible biscuits.  I had more flour on me than the flour barrel in those days but I was so proud of my biscuits until I realized that my brother showed me how,  so that he wouldn't have to get up to make them or get Daddy off to work. lol. 

As the oldest girl at home, biscuit making fell to me when I could make a pretty good biscuit and I was this side of 9 when that happened.  I did that most of the time, except that one yr or so that we had a live in housekeeper. 

There were many 4 AM mornings after Daddy would make the fire and I made the biscuits that I would run to the only source of heat in the house, our small fireplace in the living room.  My hands would throb and hurt so much from the cold, that when I would get a moment to warm them by the fire, pain would shoot through my fingers, and I would grit my teeth so that I would not make any noise. 

I just made biscuits the other day to go with some sausage gravy and my daughter said, "Mama, those were some good biscuits."  

They were pretty credible but my biscuits are a pale shadow of my Aunt Thelma's who lived to be 102 and 8 months, making biscuits in an iron skillet til she went home. Lordamercy to have another one of hers with some mater gravy or her fried chicken or smeared with butter and her Watermelon Rind Preserves.  

I don't know if lil girls learn to make biscuits anymore but I am glad that I was taught, even if the motive wasn't quite pure. 😀

( Over the years, my brother taught me so many things and most of them I learned to do, except his perfect swan dive. I miss him since he went home in 2008 but I have many memories to help keep him close.)

My Birth Story

It was almost midnight on a stormy pitch black night,  and her baby was coming. The daddy had gone out to get the Dr while the mother labored at home with her other 4 children. She moaned at times from the pain and prayed the dr would make it in time.
In that day, drs made house calls, sometimes arriving in a horse and buggy  because gas and money were scarce in the early 50s after the War.
Soon, the young mother heard the buggy pull up. He was an old country Dr and the only one still making house calls. He arrived soaked but ready to help deliver her 5th baby. 
The children were shushed out of the front bedroom and the Dr was left with the mother. The oldest girl,  who was 12, boiled some water for the Dr and tried to be helpful. 12 yr olds knew how babies were born from watching the cows on the farm, so she wasn't frightened so much as worried. She had 3 younger brothers and was praying mightily for a girl to be born. She wanted a baby sister to mother so desperately. And this was another chance for that happening.
Finally the time was here. She wasn't in the room but she could hear her mother's breathing getting heavy and small moans escaping so as not to scare the children. Not only children were seen and not heard in those days. Wives were silenced most of the time too.
From the closed door, the oldest girl could hear that the time was getting close. The dr was saying, "just a lil more. It's almost here."
A baby cry was heard in the house as the midnight hr struck and the baby was born. It was over 7 lbs and healthy, which is the only thing people cared about in those days. Babies and mothers were still lost to death in childbirth. When a healthy one was born, it was a time for thankfulness and answered prayers.
The girl could hear the Dr say from the other room, "it's a girl" and a deep smile filled her face. She finally had her own lil baby doll to dress and love. Finally the Dr called the girl in to see her baby sister.
There was a huge discussion about her name. All of the other kids had Lee as a middle name and the oldest brother thought Suzy Lee should be her name but her daddy wasn't on board with that. This girl was gonna have a family name from the Maternal line, instead of all of the others following the paternal line. They thought about the names that ran in the mother's side. Rosanna and Mary Ann Carnley, Elizabeth Ann Mccurdy and the name Ann became the middle name of this girl child. She was a fair child with light hair like her 2nd oldest brother, Clif. He was the only child born so far with blonde hair and blue eyes and it looked like this light child would be his twin. The family was really happy about the addition of another girl so this 5th child was named Gloria Ann, instead of Suzy Lee.
Later on in the girls life, she was very unhappy that Gloria was her name, instead of Suzy. Lol. She had even asked her daddy, why didn't her brother LeeRoy get to name her Suzy and the standard reply was, daddy didn't like it. That was that. The daddy's word was law and the girl child had to come to terms with her name. At different times in her life, she went by her middle name Ann or Annie, which she liked very much. 
Her older sister told her about her birth and how happy she was to have a baby sister and how devastated she was to leave her behind when she married at 19 and her girl was 7. She thought her heart would break clean into because she wouldn't be there protecting the lil girl anymore. Life goes on and not all children are saved from hardship. This time was no different from those times.
The lil girl walked at 7 months, read at 4 or 5 and traveled in her mind until such time traveling became a way of life.
Today Kimmee is long grown but this morning, the memory of her birth came forward, as told by her sister, long ago. She still wishes her name was Suzy but also lives the moniker Kimmee bestowed in the 90s.

Postscript. My Mom is gone since I was 25,  but I'm so thankful that she had me. I wish that I could remember lots of times that she was kind to me but only two times come forward. I remain grateful for those.
My daddy passed when I was 33 and an orphan was born. It was then that I started writing the stories of my family and I've continued that since. I was thinking about the lil ole gal that was me this morning and the time of my birth happened. I was barely born on the 9th on a rainy, stormy night and those storms followed me most of my life.  I guess sometimes we can't outrun the storm and just have to embrace it.

I love you for being here with me and send a big warm hug for all of us born long ago and navigating this thing called life. It's not ever easy but nothing worth having ever comes easy.

Always, Kimmee

The Secret Garden Book of my Childhood

 When I was a kid, I read a book called The Secret Garden. I was 8 years old and in the 3rd grade. Mrs Cannon was my teacher at Jay Elementary, and while she was an excellent teacher, she was also the only teacher who hit my hand with a ruler. 

To be honest, it wasn't her fault. In those days, one teacher taught all subjects, except for PE. I was reading my library book, and the subject changed without me noticing. My concentration was intense and absolute in those days. It had been honed by escaping from the chaos that was my life. I had learned, "Calgon, take me away before that was even a thing."

 Mrs Cannon walked toward me, and she grabbed my hand before I could turn the next page. She asked why I didn't change subjects. I was silent. 

My hand met the back of a wooden ruler. One hit. She asked me if I thought I could listen next time, and I was mute. I wasn't used to being asked to speak. I was raised that children were seen, not heard. I felt the next hit. She asked again, "Why weren't you listening when I changed subjects?" 

Again, I was mute. I was still in that daze that I entered when reading. Third hit, hard on the back of my hand, and she asked if I was going to listen in class. I nodded my head, yes. The silent tear rolled down my cheek. My hand was stinging, but I did not cry out loud. That was for sissies and I was tough. I was a beaten child. 

Beaten children learn a few things growing up that other children may not. We walk in fear of adults. In my case, it was men. We don't show signs of being beaten. This may cause trouble for us when we get home. We cover up. We appear clumsy. 

We are quiet thinkers. I immersed myself in books. Inside the pages, I could escape. I could go on a ship to a faraway land with Lilliputians or find a secret garden where flowers bloomed and birds sang. I survived the first 12 years of my life, in part,  due to books. 

On this day, I was reading about this garden. I think I identified with the garden because my mother loved plants. She wasn't at home, but I could see where she had been at one time. The flowers, bushes, fruit trees, and bricks edging flower beds, tires cut in decorative patterns, and painted green to make a flower pot. She had a green thumb that missed me and landed on my oldest daughter.  I think that probably makes her smile as she watches my daughter grow peppers, tomatoes, strawberries, and sometimes flowers.

My mind was back in 3rd grade this morning, thinking of the only time I got whacked in school, and I'm thankful that I had school, the library, and books to escape to. Some children have none of the above, and my heart goes out to the many children who have nothing. I guess that's why I give things away. 

I'm indebted to the people who gave things to me as a child. My grandmother, who brought me iced tea, gave me the first cookie out of the oven and protected me when I was in her house. I felt love for the first time from her. My first cup of coffee with Aunt Loree. I felt so big over that cup of coffee.  My Aunt Elma who gave time to this motherless child. That gave me confidence. My sister for reading to me when I was real lil. That gave me wings of escape. My Dad who stopped drinking when I was 12 and gave me a daddy. Frances Hodgson Burnett for writing a story that I felt was just for me. I could open that secret door and go inside for a bit. I still have my 3rd grade copy of the book. I lost it for a bit, and by the time it resurfaced, I had paid for the copy, so it was mine. Whether the losing was intentional or not, I can't recall. And if I do, I'm staying mute. I did learn some things from my childhood that remain useful. 

Have a beautiful weekend and pick up a favorite book to read. I've heard that reading is in a huge slump in recent years. That hurts my heart. I bought several books this week to read to my great grandson. I'm hoping that books will be his friend not from necessity but from the joy of reading. 

Much love always, kimmee. ♥️♥️