God Speed Chris

I can still remember clearly the first time I heard his voice. I would lay around listening to the radio, trying to catch his name or the name of the band he was frontman for. I would always hear parts of the song… but never enough to make a purchase in the 5 music stores I went to. I would try to sing words from the song, always to a very confused music merchant. Finally, a person at Virgin records had heard it too. They placed the elusive CD in my hand and I was off. I popped that thing into my car and turned it up so loud the walls vibrated and shuddered. The voice was haunting, dark, melancholy. It was deep like the vocals that have attracted my attention since I was a small child. I played that CD endlessly until people refused to ride in my car. I can laugh at that now. That day Chris became my favorite singer. He had the voice of a dark angel. The kind of tone that hits you inside the chest and gives you that twitchy pain behind your eyes. The tone you feel into your very soul.

I’m a firm believer that some people are just not meant for this world. They try so hard to conform and live amongst us. But their souls are always restless. No amount of love or money or beauty or fame can tame them and their search for that “something” that will keep them steady and quiet their soul…it just never comes. Some people will say he was selfish. Some people will say he abused drugs or alcohol. Others will discuss what was in his mind; depression, mental illness, bi-polar, whatever… as if they knew him well both inside and out. The simple fact is no one did. We only knew his music.

What I say? I pray that God wraps loving arms around his family and friends. I pray Chris has finally found his inner peace and is free.  God Speed Brother.

Words to Live Audioslave Chris Cornell Show Me How Me

Human

Many people out there are soul searching in these difficult times. I am one of them. I can’t put those feelings into words but this lovely song has done it for me. This is for all of you (and me too). Many Blessings 😉 H

Special thanks to Civil Twilight for the beautiful song “Human”, to Da Vinci, 109BC, The Voice, Media Watch, Szukalski, Tori, People’s Voice, The Telegraph, Humanity Healing, Klunavik. MNN

Happy Valentines Day

 

Sea Celebration

It’s been a rough week, but Monday my sisters called to say our Mother’s ashes had finally become available and they were on their way to retrieve them. Apparently, even in death, So Cal keeps people waiting in line.  I thought it would be a bit difficult to explain that I needed to leave work early so that I could join my sisters in a “Dairy Queen Drive Thru” but apparently nothing I say frightens my co-workers any longer.  Mother’s urn was seat belted in the back beside me as we ordered our cones and toasted her in a “High Five Ice Cream salute”. (Our Mother was an avid fan).

Last evening we set sail to scatter her ashes. The location was our Father’s “Halibut Hot Spot” where he won 3 Halibut Derby’s and where we spread his own ashes 4 years back. I did worry about divulging the exact coordinates to the sea captain… but he was a great guy… and I think our secret is safe. Me, being me…I can’t let things just “be”. I have to orchestrate everything into some sort of organized event…and even though my Father’s “service script” was less than perfect (horrendously funny in fact) due to a storm brewing on the Pacific…I did make another effort for my Mother’s sake …and her memory. My Family indulges my need to do this kind of thing. Each of us has “something”. This habit is all mine.

Our boat was a 48 foot Aquila fishing vessel leaving Huntington Harbor Yacht Club. Heck…I’ve lived in Huntington for 20 years and never even knew we had one! We carted our paraphernalia onto the waiting craft and left the dock at precisely 6:30 pm. We had previously sent candles for people to light in a moment of reflection and remembrance. (That’s our kind of service). Leaving the Harbor, I had recorded Scottish Bagpipes such as “Amazing Grace” and “Danny Boy”. I found the recording “allot less drama” than when I hired the actual Bag Piper for my Father’s service. He seemed to have a previously undivulge “problem” with motion sickness…which ultimately became a “problem” for the previous sea captain.

We traveled through the harbor very dignified, pipes blaring, wind whipping through our hair. There was an emotional moment when we noticed 2 birds following us, very determined to keep up. We don’t cry gracefully like in the movies…more of a choked, red-faced, gasping of air…(much like a fish out of water) but we made it through. We are Krishers after all.

When we arrived at the area, the captain turned the boat toward the secret spot and lowered his anchor. My oldest sister (Cindy) gets embarrassed easily… but she was a good sport when I told her she was now “the Matriarch” and, with that title, she was expected to be the first to speak. I had given her some old sea verse previously (reading is easier) and when she spoke, I felt her power and was enormously proud. My middle sister (Julie) was next (I had previously mentioned to go in ceremonial birth order) (again, can’t help this habit) and she spoke from the heart through tears that made her children cry…which in turn made her Sisters cry. The captain stayed composed thank God. I went next with a prayer and then 3 of my sisters’ children spoke about their Grandmother.

What came next needs a little explanation. My dear Mother (born Protestant Christian) was fascinated by the Catholic religion. She made me watch “all things Fatima” while growing up. I’ve probably seen “The Song of Bernadette” 400 times which makes me want to shout  “I can’t make you happy in this world…only in the next“. She collected those sealed rose petal things that they send out to people on mailing lists. She must have had 40 lying here and there. Years ago when I visited Notre Dame, I even brought back a blessed Rosary for her to hold on to. So naturally, when the time came for Julie to spread the ashes, I tuned the iPod to the most wonderful version of Ave Maria I’ve ever heard (by the very talented Josh Groban). If you haven’t heard it…let me just say…it could bring Satan himself down to his knees…something I’d very much like to see.

Upon release, the ashes hit the wind and gently sailed though the air, falling slowly into the waiting ocean . Cindy followed this by dropping a beautiful heart-shaped wreath that my niece Nicole had made from gatherings in my Mother’s garden. I followed that by scattering handfuls of white rose petals. I must silently thank a neighbor (whom had no idea of their contribution and never will)  because I actually stole them in the middle of the previous night, after having forgot to pick some up at the local florist. I was standing in the shower late Monday night, trying to remember all the things that needed to be done, when white petals popped into my head. I jumped out quickly and retrieved my robe. Armed with cutting shears, I marched around the block until I spied some whites roses growing. I am grateful that nothing embarrassing (like a car) happened by while I stealthily hacked away. I did my best not to leave large, noticable bald spots.

Once the 3 sisters had done their best to celebrate their Mother’s life…we stood and watch that beautiful wreath…surrounded by white floating petals…roll wave after wave through an ocean lit by the golden setting sun. I blame the tears on Ave Maria…but it really was a beautiful, peaceful sight…a fitting end to a beautiful woman’s life.

Ceremony completed, big band Benny Goodman brought us back into a lighter mood. During the next hour I witnessed my sister fall on her bum (she was ok), my niece argue with the sea captain about the merits of the Beatles versus any other lesser band and the captain’s shipmate break out his fishing gear. I felt warmed knowing the world was being set right and that life goes on…even after great loss. I felt my Mother and Father’s presence and I know that they were smiling down on us.

My Mother’s Shoes

My Mother’s Alzheimer’s disease is progressing to the point that she rarely leaves her bed. It’s a hard thing to watch and even harder because she’s never had the life that she should have. My eldest Sister came down to visit and while both Sisters and my Niece sat around my Mother’s bed, I noticed my Mother’s shoes. It has only been a few weeks since she was up and walking (albeit…slowly) but then she always did walk slowly. To appreciate just how slow, you would have to be a small child on Main Street at Disneyland…waiting for your Mother to hurry so you could catch up to your older sisters…and your Father keeping a respectable pace, forcing you to stay behind.

I felt a certain poignancy, seeing those white shoes. I know she has never liked them, preferring a darker pair of SAS shoes, no matter what color clothing my middle Sister dresses her in. I borrowed my Eldest Sister’s phone camera to take this. She understood the shot, the deeper meaning and why I took it. I look at it now with so many conflicting emotions. I can smile at all the memories and private, inappropriate jokes between 3 sisters. I can tear up at the losses we have survived, yet find great, enduring love in a Family strengthened from hardships shared within the life of one small and frail women. Sometimes it feels like the sun, just breaking through the rain. Sometimes it feels like a heavy weight tied to one leg. Life does that to you. So does Love.

I will always remember …

These are the days

I lost my Father 4 years ago today. During his life, the lessons, love and guidance he gave… molded me into the person I became. He was and always will be my Hero and I was so blessed and lucky to have him. I continue to honor his life by living and creating my own memories…keeping him close to my heart.

these are days you’ll remember

never before and never since, I promise
will the whole world be warm as this
and as you feel it, you’ll know it’s true
that you are blessed and lucky
it’s true, that you are touched by something
that will grow and bloom in you

these are days you’ll remember

when May is rushing over you with desire
to be part of the miracles you see in every hour
you’ll know it’s true, that you are blessed and lucky
it’s true, that you are touched by something
that will grow and bloom in you

these are the days
that you might fill with laughter
until you break

these days you might feel a shaft of light
make its way across your face
and when you do
you’ll know how it was meant to be
see the signs and know their meaning

you’ll know how it was meant to be
hear the signs and
know they’re speaking to you
to you

Love is all you need

The story of them

Whiles searching through a bin of odds and ends at the local thrift, I came across a number of wonderful animals all waiting for their next adventure. With their fresh faces and bright colors, I knew it would be only a matter of time before some child would take them home. In the midst of “the pretties” I found some odd-looking, unlikely to be leaving, misfits. I’m a bit of a oddity myself so after debating my inability to leave them…I grabbed these unloved creatures and took them with me. At home, I sat pondering them while they watched me eat my lunch. I began to wonder about their stories…and that’s when they began to whisper…

Dwight Threetoe was born to Livingston and Maudette on the Island of Amphibianina, a lost sister to the Galapagos. Dwight showed an amazing afinity for style at an early age and, while his siblings could change color to match their surroundings, Dwight could also sparkle like sequens. His parents found this wonderfully entertaining on dark nights while preparing the evening meal. But at 15, Dwight felt his calling and left to follow his dream of becoming a Fashionista. Sadly his toenails kept snagging the fabrics and he had to leave the dream behind. His search for new interests brought him to the big Apple where, after competing on a food show called “Chopped”, executives realized his true potential and offered him his own pilot. Viewers at home became mesmerized by Dwight’s unusually flamboyant clothing (which in reality was his skin) and his ability to chop, dice and mince with a single toenail. The show “Slice and Dice” became an instant favorite and now Dwight’s three toe impressions can be found on the Walk of Fame.

Memphis, future King of Bongo, fell into a tourist’s suitcase while imitating a James Bond low evading tuck and roll manuver. Once the case was reopened, he found himself on the West Coast, making friends easily with his natural good looks and charm. He was offered many choice roles in Hollywood but the bright lights soon bored him and he found himself drawn to Monster Trucks. His career was cut short when Dumai, his loyal bodyguard, found him chattering away with a group of grease monkeys and took him back the Motherland after a thorough cleansing and trip to D-Land.

Dumai (loyal friend and bodyguard to Memphis) was born into a family of tactical warfare extremists. He trained early in marshal arts, bull riding and missile deployment… though his mother felt ballet would give him a “extra little something”. Through his skills, he came under the notice of Kong, King of Bongo, and was chosen to shadow his son. At Dumai’s appointment ceremony, King Kong made note of his combat knowledge, sheer bulk and lethal piercing eyes but admitted it was Dumai’s natural grace that finally won him the opportunity to serve. Dumai’s Mother beamed. Memphis and he were inseparably until the suitcase incident. They were both relieved to be reunited, then took the trip to Disneyland before returning back home.

Lola is the love child of a famous actress/dancer and a mystery man she met in the jungle trees on a long gone vacation. Born with the natural grace of a dancer, Lola trained for years as a ballerina, only to slip on a banana peel in the middle of a perfect pirouette. Once recovered, she made her way to the city of lights where she was invited to join the cast of Jungle Book. She can be heard singing on Tuesdays and Saturdays at the Fried Plantain Theatre and Review.

Hamburgler was born into a family of vegans who noticed early on his habit of nose twitching when neighbors would barbeque. Afraid for his future, his Mother would hide his allowance which, unknowingly ignited his life of crime. Dressed in his bedtime pajamas, he would sneak out at odd hours of the night in search of a local butcher shop. With fresh ground chuck in hand, he would then locate the nearest barbeque grill and fire up. After receiving several complaints of pickle chip litter, the authorities followed a trail of mustard and found Hamburgler consuming mass quantities of stolen red meat. He was released to the custody of Ronald MacDonald, where he spends his days in “grilling-but-not-eating restitution”, forced to wear red neckties.

Fair Maidens