Tag Archives: love

Free Speech

I recently read an article (Cara Anthony – KFF News) about a young Black man who was shot in the head, operated on, then his family was pressured to donate his organs. On the operating table after being rolled through the hospital corridors on a hero’s walk to celebrate his selfless donation, his neurosurgeon burst in and told the doctors to take him off the table. He was alive, and is today, several years later, is married, a musician with young children. His first-year neurosurgeon, Dr. Zohny, is now working to “quantify consciousness” so that these mistakes are no longer made.

This article shook me to my core, as it could have been me. A year before this young man’s traumatic brain injury, I suffered one myself. After my craniotomy, I remained in a coma for a full month.

During that time I had dreams of jumping upwards from shard to triangular shard of familiar works of art and stained glass to reach a light above. Also of “field trips” to exotic destinations that always ended up at what seemed like my concrete block college dorm room. My mother-in-law was staying with my husband and was at the hospital one day when she saw signs of more than a vegetative state (she’s now a retired RN) as they were giving up on me. The last thing I remember is an empty grey space and my saying to myself “I can’t go now, I have too much shit to do!” I recall those words exactly.

Once awake, there was a long way to go but worst for me is that I had a tracheotomy tube and could not speak. My husband said that the accident forced a Ctrl-Alt-Del of my brain and I had to learn everything all over again. He learned to remove the trach for a few seconds at a time so I could say a few words.

I’d been trapped in my mind for weeks, unable to escape. Then, when I awakened I was learning again what I wanted and needed to say, and was unable to do so.

When Scarlett O’Hara stood up with her fist in the air and said “as God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again” I’ll never be silent again, no matter what anyone tells me. So go ahead, I’m retired so you can’t fire me or take my Social Security.

We have a huge problem in this country, and we’ve voted for him to be our president twice. The problem? Once elected he failed in every way to fulfill his oather of office. He only represents the half of Americans who voted for him, despises the rest of us and wants us all declared enemies of the State.

I never knew much about Charlie Kirk, only disagreed with the hatred he showed America and Americans that he despised for their gender, color or sexual orientation. His death at the hands of a mentally unstable individual is heinous and my thoughts go out to his wife and family. But his death is not my fault, or that of of Democrats or progressive organizations or the media or late night comics.

Efforts by Donald Trump and MAGA to blame all of us and threaten loss of free speech and funding to voice our discontent over his wackadoodle policies is against our Constitution and laws.

I was born into and will hopefully die in the United States of America, which cherishes free speech and the rule of law. I will not be a second-class citizen because I’m a woman and a senior citizen. I know what it’s like to be stifled inside, unable to get out of my own brain because of too many presciription medications administered to me in the hospital by knowledgeable physicians.

Do you know why I think I was saved, besides my neurosurgeon, his terrific PA Kyle (thanks, Kyle), my husband and his mother? I’m white, and I had excellent private health insurance. My husband recalls sitting in the ER, filling out forms then waiting. Staff was looking for a name to call, muttering no insurance, medicaid…. AETNA! Yep, they called on him first.

There are so many things that Trump has already ruined that will take us years to regain, as it did me and my wonderful brain (thank you, Auntie L, the HS English teacher who taught me words no-one else knew, especially my rehab therapists) and motor skills. But we can do it. Not without the free speech our Constitution guarantees, however.

Donald Trump is the biggest bully we’ll ever know, but he’s a bully, and bullies are by nature cowards. The more we obey in advance his directives, the more he’ll try to get away with. He’s already going to leave the White House billions richer because no-one is enforcing laws on the books keeping him from doing so. We don’t want a dictator or king. We need a president and Congress who remembers that they’re elected by us, we, the people. Dee

What REALLY Matters

It was ten degrees last night. That doesn’t normally happen in Texas. This morning a three day-old calf followed her mama to get water at the nearest pool. The baby calf fell through the ice. Luckily my f-i-l was out feeding this morning, found her, scooped her up and brought her home.

We dried her roughly with towels, placed her on clean “dog” towels that Princess Lulu unconsciously lent, put new towels under and on top of her and surrounded her with hot water bottles. We had juice bottles left over from Sara’s early winter days in her first dog house (a Dewalt tool box, outfitted with old rugs) so filled them with hot water. The baby calf was then fed warm formula, and is still alive an hour later, nestled by the hearth and an incredibly warm fire in the wood stove.

My father-in-law has had forty baby calves from the herd so far this season. Hopefully this little black icicle will make it. She just stopped shivering, which is a good sign, and she doesn’t have diarrhea, which could kill her for lack of fluids. Next up is electrolytes, probably gatorade with a few extra additions like raw egg.

Makes you think twice when a life is at stake. A lot still matters in my life, like whether I’ll get a second year of Social Security (which I use) and Medicare (which I have yet to use, ever). But lately Americans have been focused on the wrong things, especially in our nation’s capitol.

Here’s my prescription:

Instead of grudges, grievance and retribution, work with Congress to reduce. the price of eggs.

Realize that only a small portion of the population is rich, white and male. Stop catering to them exclusively.

Retaliatory tariffs are a recipe for disaster. Joe Biden left us a good economy. Try not to blow it.

Hatred of people who are different in color, gender or religion are not evil by nature is futile, especially in a country of immigrants. Chances are you have a mother and grandmother, see? Plus hating all women is counterproductive. You probably work with a gay person, and have a Black neighbor. They’re all cool, so what’s the problem?

DEI reinforces anti-discrimination laws on the books for generations. The laws haven’t changed, you’d have to ask Congress to do that and you know it’ll never happen. The laws don’t say you have to lease an apartment or give a job to a differently abled person, just that if such a person is qualified for the job or apartment, they’re in the pool to select them on merit. Get a grip and realize that we ARE a multicultural differently-gendered and -abled society.

Reproduction. Get out of our bedrooms. It’s none of your GD business who we sleep with or if and when we decide to have children. Unless it’s rape or sexual harassment, there are criminal laws to deal with that.

Remove unqualified, un-vetted kids and uber nerd Elon Musk from our personal data at the IRS, SSA, DOH and health agencies. invading personal privacy is gonna come back and get you, especially when you use it solely to target perceived personal enemies of Donald Trump and Elon Musk.

If you thought the left was hell-bent on euphemisms and cancel culture, take a look in the mirror and see what the right is doing with the First Amendment. ‘Nuff said.

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Send your thoughts to Icy The Baby Calf, let’s hope she makes it back to Mama in a day or two and in time provides the ranch with 5-6 babies of her own! Cheers, Dee

Who Am I

A few years back I was in an accident that caused a traumatic brain injury, and a craniotomy. My husband the software guy says my brain hit Ctrl-Alt-Del. Haha. A month later I came out of an interesting coma. Interesting for everyone else because they had to determine my fate, and for me because I had many very interesting life-like dreams.

Those dreams culminated in a drab grey room where I asked myself “is this it?” Is this the end, is this all there is out there? At that point my brain said I couldn’t go now, there was simply too much to do and that was that. I woke up.

My husband says that when I was coming back he began to recognize me when I did particularly “Dee” things. When the nurse tried to pin me in the sheets by tucking them in tightly, I fought to get my feet outside the covers as I always do. He knew right then that I’d be back.

I didn’t get it until a couple of months later in brain rehab. A visiting psychologist laughed at me and called me “the smart one” before he told all the other medical professionals (in earshot) I’d never go home again. Of course that was a challenge and I proved him wrong quickly and decisively. He laughed because one day a fellow patient climbed the five steps intended to teach TMI patients to re-learn stairs. At dinner that afternoon I congratulated him on his effort. Yea!

It took me a while after discharge months later that that moment was the moment I got “me” back. The life of a patient is all me, me, me all the time. How’s my recovery. How many more language exercises. How many flights of stairs. Can I make it to the next handhold, perhaps twenty feet, before collapsing into my wheelchair.

They mocked me because even though I was as bad off as the other patients, I thought of others and was cheering on their recovery as well as my own. I got me back that day and while at the time I couldn’t put my finger on it or put it into words, I knew it and it gave me the will and strength to pass all their damn tests and get out of there and back to my life taking care of my family.

I’ve always cared for those less fortunate, kids who were mocked for being too smart or dumb or ugly or even gay. That caring has always extended to animals, which is why people in all my old neighborhoods still call me “the dog lady.”

I’ve never understood how selfish people can operate on a daily basis, thinking only of themselves and their own needs and desires to the exclusion of all else. And I certainly never thought we’d vote as a nation to hire a sociopathic, malignant narcissist as the president of the United States.

Parents, school, and Mass inculcated me to the “do unto others” philosophy that has driven me my entire life, even in grade school. I’m a senior citizen now with (currently) the right to vote and have my opinion heard. Perhaps the antithesis to the political circus of hatred that is coming into power is the polar opposite. I am considering becoming radical, using kindness as my message.

Most of us are caring, loving people who want government to serve our needs, try to keep grocery and gas prices low and have a working border and immigration policy. We don’t have an urgent need to ruin our constitutional democracy by hurting the majority of our people, the economy, our environment, our children because one person is mad at the world and is hell-bent on hurting everyone who has or may ever hurt him. I’m not a sociopath or a vindictive person by nature or diagnosis. I just want to live my life free from the intrusion of people who have no business being in my business, whether it be who I love, how I vote or how my doctors and I choose to treat my conditions as they arise.

Let’s be kind to each other. Trump has shown time and time again that he’ll push the envelope way too far and when people cry out in unison, he’s proved a bully that retreats at the slightest resistance. So that’s what we’ll have to do. With kindness. This election may have squeaked in an incredibly dangerous and unhinged person but I’m still the same, so are you, so are our families and friends. Let’s just kindly tell the MAGA crowd that we like our rights and our Constitution, thank you. We intend to keep them.

The mean visiting psychologist told me I’d never live at home and I’d certainly never drive again. When I took a driving test the instructor asked my why on earth I needed one. It was as if I’d driven yesterday, and I’m a good driver. Yes! Freedom. The State attorney appointed to fight either my doctors or my husband for my proper care actually forgot about the court hearing. I found out about it, called the lawyer and he stopped by only to find that I offered him freshly-brewed herbal tea and conversation, same as any normal homemaker would do. He immediately cancelled the custody hearing and left us alone.

Kindness. Radical kindness. Pass it on. Dee

Raising Kids

All families are unique, but I’ll just talk about mine, in the vein of “minding my own d*** business.” My parents had two families together. I was born 1 1/2 years before my sister and we grew up best friends/worst enemies (friends most of the time, enemies lasted about five minutes). My brother is seven years younger and the final sister, 11 years younger.

Born in 1958 and 1960, we were raised in my father’s type of strict German/Swiss style. It was a different world back then. I learned to read at five, and taught my sister so she would stop talking and let me read.

As we started school we got an allowance of $.50 per week for our daily/weekly chores. We had to make our beds immediately upon awakening and help set the table/do dishes every day, but every Saturday we took an equal number of slips of paper out of the “job jar” to tell whether we had to dust, vacuum, fold diapers for the little ones, things like that. The worst jobs were “ask Mom” and “ask Dad.” Then, they could make up anything, like help lay 3,000 bricks around the new pool.

The real worst one was when I pulled both “asks” until I learned how to play the game. One week Mom made me weed the garden. Then, sweaty, grimy and out of breath I asked Dad what he needed done. “Hand me that Phillips screwdriver. Now go play.” Whew!

One thing I remember vividly between school and extracurricular activities (violin, piano, ballet, choir) was that we were fined a nickel of that precious allowance every time we called each other a bad name. Names like stupid or idiot or crazy were fined (of course racist or sexist epithets were verboten and never uttered). We just learned other ways of speaking to each other and working together so we didn’t let our spat get to that point. I’m going to venture a guess that a certain ex-president never learned that lesson.

The second generation of kids in our family were born in the late 60’s in a much more laissez-faire environment. There was no job jar, no forced extracurricular activity and no fines for bad words.

One time I returned from college and heard Mom ask my little brother to set the table for dinner. He said “wrongo, Moose Breath!” And she laughed!!! I looked at my dear sister of my generation as we both wondered silently if we were in the right house.

Sadly, my husband and I married late and I was unable to bear children so we didn’t get to punish kids with our separate views on child-rearing. After all, he grew up on a dairy farm. When I asked what he did besides school as a kid all he said to me was “milk cows.” What fun we could have had, though! Just some thoughts early on a Saturday morning. Make sure you’re registered and VOTE! Dee

Love Haiku

Everything is clean

I miss my messy husband

Bring him back to me

In the Closet

No, not that! Though I love and approve of friends and family that are gay or lesbian.

I was in southern California, my sweet old dog had died and I met a guy. It was the dot-bomb era and the company left a white board up with the last item being “fire employees.” They all saw it and went home for the weekend to not sleep and wait to see if their name was on the list. They fired 1/3 of the workforce.

We had only gone out for a couple of weeks but I knew he was wicked smart and a “keeper” and I saw his dark apartment and tons of individual string cheese wrappers going from frig to the dual-brained computer he created from nothing and thought, this guy needs help.

His laundry system was clean pile, dirty pile. He would try to match clean pile socks. I did all the wash, folded it and set it up in two closets. He caught me in the smaller closet and said I needed to learn the Texas Two-Step. It’s been years and I don’t remember it. We started dancing in the closet then out into the living area and he moved away. Actually, that’s why I folded all the clothes, so they could go easily into boxes. Luckily I did, as his mother would have killed him otherwise! She still interviewed me for five days before we married.

He was gone for only two weeks. I had to pay for maids to come into his place. When he returned a guy he gave his recliner to next door asked why he drove back halfway across the country. He simply said, “her.”

Aah, true love. We met a couple of weeks after 9/11 and married (eloped) a year or so later after meeting all the folks. Nearly fifteen years officially, now. No. There are no clean/dirty piles of laundry. Everything is folded, appropriately stored, all the socks are matched and shirts and dress pants go to the drycleaner.

We have an old Zoe dog nearing 14 years who we got at six weeks. She has cataracts and is also losing her hearing and is tripping a bit on walks. No more string cheese, he’s become an expert on cheddar. I created a food snob, and while I packed for him for 12 years now he has his own (and my) suitcases and packs for himself. I just drop off his shirts and make sure they’re boxed.

Be careful, that Texas Two-Step can get you into a lifetime relationship! Dee

Knowing

Years ago my mother gave me a check for my birthday. It was impersonal but I was married to someone she’d only met a couple of times and we were mobile, as always.

My mother-in-law took me to an antique store about an hour away from their home and I found a gorgeous oak dresser with beautiful drawer pulls, like brass tassels.

The drawers do not shut easily as the piece is over 100 years old. One night my husband came home from work and saw a tiny bruise under my thumbnail.

“Did you close the drawer on your finger?” He knew. That’s why I love him so much.

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All week I eat yogurt, salads (including Caprese with fresh mozz and tomatoes), fruit, Clif Bars et al. On the weekend I need some iron so suggest a nice, juicy dry-aged rib-eye or NY strip. He’s a meat & potatoes guy so I suggest this and what does he say? “Oh, honey, I’ve been eating steak all week.” Boo hoo. Poor guy. I feel so sorry for him eating steak all week! Not. Cheers from Dee and Zoe

Yellow and Blue

There was a dear neighbor I’d known for years and even shared care-taking responsibilities for rescuing a lost cat before we got George adopted. Our old dogs were buddies.

She got mad at me for something I didn’t do, and a couple of years went by. One morning her dog dragged her to my door. I petted the dog and my neighbor said hello. Her dog died the next day.

I received a note at my door. Immediately I went out and bought a vase with yellow and blue flowers and delivered it to her. She invited me in and we became friends again.

A month later my old dog passed. I left her a note. She responded with a new vase and different yellow and blue flowers. We’ve lost touch over the years but I like this story for many reasons.

We were, were not, then were friends. We loved our dogs and they loved both of us. Her dog was persistent to get us back together before she died. A month later my dog knew she was dying (died the next day) so brought a huge teddy bear to the Park, a new thing as for ten years she’d always brought a ball to chase, and said goodbye to all the dogs, their owners and all the kids in the tot lot who always called out her name and ran to see her.

Blue and yellow do not signify death to me. They mean life, love, friendship. My husband is en route home and now I buy him flowers every week. He got them for me for 15 years so now everyone laughs at me for buying them for him. I guess most wives don’t do that. Less time meticulously buying flowers for me means more precious time with us. Plus, the gorgeous flower place where I go is half-off on Fridays!

Today I bought yarrow (yellow), blue/purple thistles, a reminder of our time in Scotland and its’ national flower, and yellow alstroemeria. Yellow and blue. Life, love and friendship. Cheers and have a great weekend! We plan to chill out and make a couple of dry aged NY strip steaks. Dee

Caring

That’s so important to me. Caring for and loving my family. My husband is here two days a week. I make menus, trying to eat healthily and make his favorite dishes while he’s with us.

While he is away our only connection is our cell phones and computers. Yesterday someone reported that our cell phones were lost so our provider cut off service while still making us pay the bill. Great move, loser. I’ve the number on the call you made.

I’m still dealing with this issue. I care about Sir W who went to the vet for an ear infection yesterday, I care about Mrs. P whose granddaughters want a date with my dog this weekend (I’ll have to comb her out). Yes, Zoe has play dates. Kids and grandkids. She should be the official elder mascot. The hip-less wonder dog!

Hunger, war, crime, I care. People don’t use me to my full potential. Dee

Drops

This morning I awoke to water in my ear. I cleaned it out carefully and applied a drop of a mixture of hydrogen peroxide and vinegar, my husband’s concoction. A drop.

Think of one’s life. If you want change it happens drop by drop. One cannot change the world in a millisecond, well, at least not without an atomic bomb, which is why no government has done that to another in decades.

Change happens with seeds of information and persuasion that slowly grow and hopefully flower. Sometimes they die, those are lost dreams, at least for now. Sometimes people “soldier on” and take their hits to get what they want from life, work and especially the government. I’ve taken my hits in all those arenas.

In the end I hope that the number of drops are not rationed because I plan to use many more for positive change. Oh, the drop I placed in my ear via glass vial and glass squeezie thing is all better now. That is how drops work. They help heal things. Dee