Good Dog ~ Bad Dog

My anxieties really took off in the first grade. I guess we all have to be socialized sooner or later, in some form or fashion, according to who we are, what region of the country we live in, and what religion we might be. I was raised in the country and bused in to a private, Parochial school. I’m from North Florida, which is the deep south and I was born Catholic.

In Catechism classes I liked the stories about Jesus, but everything else was terrifying. Sr. John Helene kept telling me that I had to be right with God and Jesus. Then she would tell me that the closer that I was to God and Jesus, the more that the devil would chase me. He would make me do bad things. I had to keep my fingers together at all times, because if I didn’t the devil could weave in and out of the space that was created.

If that’s not a recipe for neurosis, I don’t know what is. Continue reading Good Dog ~ Bad Dog

Hilda JoAnn

This is my mother, Hilda JoAnn. Today is her birthday. I’m thinking of her. I am proud to be a part of her lineage. She was, “born at the right time”. Which was December 27th, 1933. She flew away, January 16th 2007.

I use to dream of Julie Andrews being my mother. I just knew, that if she were my mother, I would be so happy. And, of course, I would have a wonderful voice. Life would be a musical.

Being Hilda’s daughter, was kind of like being in a chorus line. She was our leader and we were all her followers, but I couldn’t dance and I couldn’t sing.

My mother was a phenomenal woman. She was Irish Catholic. She got married at the age of fourteen, had five children, and made a fortune. How did she do that?

She lived with my father, until widowed. They were a team. I watched them work, play, laugh, and fight together. They played a lot of cards. She took us to church, but didn’t go, until the end of her life. She waited on the priest to receive her rights, before she would leave.

She answered the altar call, when we went to hear Joel O’Steen preach. She acted like it was a convenient time to stretch her legs. She wasn’t fooling me.

She told me, that no matter how bad things are; the sun will rise again in the morning.

She had, what people would call, a good attitude.

She also said, “if you don’t have something good to say about someone, then don’t say it at all.”~ she practiced that.

She was smart. She must have been. Having limited formal years of school, she was educated. She was an avid reader. I never knew, until I was grown, that when she was in her reading chair; she had ear plugs in. I told you she was smart.

She wasn’t scared of Y2k. She knew her math. She owned paper, and pencil.

She outran the IRS, but they caught her, after her death.

I never saw a grey hair in her head.

I believe my mother was a great example, of being dealt the hand called life, and playing it well.

She gave me my love of the ocean.

So, I surf. Who needs to sing?

P.S. She was a good cook.

P.S.S. She was a great cook.