Random Me

My favorite picture

2008-10-17T09:02:00.000-07:00

My boss snapped a picture of Marjie and I at our radio station’s cocktail party, where we entertained our 150+ guests from the Wabash Valley. It was one of my favorite times on the ship because it was just us and our listener friends, a nice chance to get to know a few of them a little better. I wish the party had been longer because it was so much fun and spirits were very high!

Dinner with the Captain!

2008-10-17T08:53:00.000-07:00

My coworkers and I got a special treat onboard: we were invited to dine with the Captain and a couple of his crew, the Chief Steward (who sent a fruit basket to our room, really making us feel like celebrities) and the Chief Engineer. All of them were foreign and spoke with heavy accents, so the dinner started out just a little bit awkward until I mentioned to Captain La Fauci that my sister Marjie was a sailor too. He started testing her mettle and I must say she passed with flying colors. By the time our dinner was over, the Captain invited our small group to come and visit him on the bridge of the ship, a truly rare experience! I don’t have those pictures but will share this one with Camillo, the Engineer, myself, Marjie and the Captain. You’ll notice he has a pretty tight hold on Marjie. Even he knows now she’s a real keeper.

Back in Cozumel

2008-10-17T08:42:00.000-07:00

Here’s Marjie and I on the beach in Cozumel, taking a rare break from being in the beautifully clear, warm water.

On this beautiful day Marjie taught our Beach Guide how to make painkillers, a great rum drink I enjoyed very much.

Marjie paddle-boat raced one of my coworkers, Christopher, and beat him, of course. ;-) Then we dragged out a couple of rafts and spent most of the afternoon lying in the sea on those rafts, talking to each other and contemplating floating out to sea. But we didn't, I kept going back to the beach for another painkiller. It was a spectacular day.

Crand Cayman with Marjie

2008-10-17T08:37:00.000-07:00

Every day was spectacular, and Marjie and I were perfect ship companions. I have to give her props: when we boarded the ship she said, “Okay let’s make a deal…no elevators.” I readily agreed, having no idea how many stairs we would be taking in lieu of the elevators. I had blisters on my feet from every pair of shoes I took and I gave her a hard time about it the whole trip. BUT when I got home I hadn’t gained any weight, even though we ate and drank all the time! That sister of mine is a good influence on me, even my boss said that when we got back. He told me he had seen another side of Diane on this trip and I have to agree: a very happy Diane at that.

Grand Cayman with guide Dennis

2008-10-17T08:32:00.000-07:00

Grand Cayman was another spectacular day for us. We joined a few of my coworkers here at the radio station on an excursion to a private beach on Seven Mile Island. Our guide Dennis was fantastic, showing us around parts of the island on our way to our beach…so we took a picture with him and the girls, Jana, me and Billie.

Cozumel, Mexico

2008-10-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

Cozumel turned out to have one of the prettiest beaches I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. We spent a lovely day in the sun there, drinking painkillers. Marjie taught our guide how to make them and he did an excellent job!

This is the part of the ocean we spent the day floating in…isn’t it beautiful?

My Girls Night Out gang

2008-10-17T08:28:00.000-07:00

I was thrilled when four of my girls night out gals booked the cruise and NONE of us were disappointed. This is a crazy bunch of women (witness Bonnie’s leg flung over my boss’ leg…even I wouldn’t do that, LOL) and we have agreed that what happens on the cruise stays on the cruise, so this is about all I can show you of this crazy bunch. ;-)

2008-10-17T08:24:00.001-07:00

We met lots of great people on the cruise, but really bonded with those who dined with us in the lovely London Dining Room onboard. Dinners were fancy four course meals but it was the conversation with these people that made dinnertime a must-go experience.

In this picture are our friends Stacey and Rick, Ciara and Faith, and Mark and Cindy. I hope this is not the last we see of each other because these are some really great people!

This picture was taken at our cocktail party, not in the formal dining room.

Cruising with Marjie

2008-10-17T08:14:00.001-07:00

Marjie and I just got back from the best vacation I have ever had and I just had to share some of it with you. My radio station had me host a cruise to the Western Caribbean on the Carnival Cruise ship Triumph. Our destinations were Ocho Rios Jamaica, Grand Cayman and Cozumel Mexico. My dream has always been to see white sand and turquoise water and that’s exactly what I got!

Marjie acted as my personal cruise photographer and did a fantastic job of getting everyone to take their pictures with me. But we also had lots of time off the ship to enjoy our beautiful shore excursions.

Since I can only share one picture at a time I’m starting with Marjie and I on the deck of the Triumph as we were about to set sail from Miami. More to follow.

Wrapping it up

2008-09-23T08:04:00.001-07:00

Longing for honest love,
Wishing for more integrity,
Tired of frustrating hypocrisy,
Hoping for simple emotions,
Enduring too much solitude,
Looking for intense sensations,
Dreaming of secret desires,
Fearful I might find them in you…
Then what would I do?

Breaking it down

2008-08-12T12:14:00.001-07:00

What’s going on in my head?
Is it empty like my heart?

I could break it down, consider this
Or I could tear it apart,
Seeking out the missing link,
In search of a new start.

But beginnings always scare me,
The effort wears me out.
Am I meant to be alone?
Or am I the reason for the doubt?

Rain, Rain

2008-08-12T12:13:00.001-07:00

Trying to define my emotions right now
is like trying to describe a sudden summer shower
in the country
late at night
when you can actually
hear the drops as they hit the leaves.
There are words that might work but
they’re fading away even as I try to capture them,
much like a sudden summer shower
in the country
late at night
when the rain drowns out the words
so I might as well enjoy the downfall
and just for the moment,
forget about the consequences
of getting wet.

Walking with the stars

2008-08-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

Stargazing in the middle of the day
Is as extraordinary
As my heart’s reaction
To seeing you again.

To the flame

2008-08-12T12:11:00.002-07:00

Moving slowly,
reaching out,
sharing smiles
and looks for miles.
I am drawn to you
in ways I don’t quite
understand.

Temptation

2008-08-12T12:11:00.001-07:00

I’m looking for my place,
it’s quiet and sheltered and safe
and I haven’t visited in some time.
So perhaps I have been abandoned
by my own neglect.

Maybe some effort is in order
So I can rediscover the emotions
that have not, in some time, undone me.

Today

2008-08-12T12:10:00.000-07:00

I want to walk in the rain,
laughing as we get wet
and forgetting about sensible things
like makeup and hairstyles
and staying high and dry.

I want to run up and kiss you
instead of walking in calmly
and patting you on the shoulder
to let you know I’m there,
but my feet won’t move that fast.

I want to be swept up in a torrent
of emotions I haven’t felt in years
and sometimes I sense you feel the same
but there we sit, knee to knee
and many miles apart.

This is what I want today.
Tomorrow may be completely different
and that’s probably why I’m still sitting here
and you’re still sitting there.

Vacations are for moments like this

2008-08-11T09:31:00.000-07:00

My best friend and I in front of the camera,

nothing hidden in our devotion to each other

touching by design, never by accident,

smiles crinkle from the corners of our eyes

to the wrinkles around our mouths

but we only see the love.

We're almost there

2008-07-15T08:40:00.000-07:00

THE BEACH

Three weeks before vacation work starts to drive you nuts no matter how much you love your job. Two weeks before you leave it’s just a minor form of torture. But I am finding the week before FLIES BY and there’s so much to do! Laundry, cleaning, packing, making lists (and all of those are in the wrong order, so you see what the week before is doing to me!) and following them. The day we fly out will be here in less than four days and a little panic is setting in.

But then I remember where I’m going and why I’m going there and my crazed thoughts begin to settle down and I begin to relax. I am flying into the arms of my beloved family, who will forgive me any packing forgetfulness and be happy to see my daughter, who hasn’t been around much for any of them to see lately.

I remember we will be at the beach, where I can walk with my sisters to my heart’s content. We will eat at our favorite seafood restaurant and we will cook great meals together. Although I might have to schedule our visit to Bushwackers for crab legs the night my sister Chris plans to fix sushi. Not my favorite meal by any means.

So it is with great patience that I face this week and watch the days fly by because they are hastening me to the retreat I need the most.

Picture above is my niece Maddie, me, my mother and my sister Chris. I hope we do a lot of that next week...just sitting on the beach listening to the waves crash in.

Jefferson sleeps here

2008-07-15T08:35:00.001-07:00

Jefferson

Christine has a new puppy in our house. A chocolate lab my daughter has named Jefferson. He has quite the personality, this little seven-week old baby. He seems to want to please when it comes to training him to go outside but the inevitable accidents happen, always when one of us isn’t paying attention.

He wants to chew on every toy I have bought but his favorite chew toy seems to be me and I have the scratches and bites to prove it.

Does this make me magically delicious?

Last night I brought him to my room and hung out on the bed with him until he finally got that wonderful puppy exhaustion and flopped down and slept for three hours. That’s when I fell in love. It’s a lot more endearing to be his comfort zone than his chew toy.

Cupid...?

2008-07-15T08:23:00.001-07:00

We had a lovely dinner,
He bought me a rose, my favorite; yellow.
He didn’t make me dance when the music started
And he was easy to talk to.

So why did I wish I could run to you?
You are an enigma to me and not exactly accessible.
So why do I think about you?
I don’t want a relationship,
I don’t want a boyfriend,
I’m content in the world I have created,
so I find it vexing that you stay on my mind.
I don’t even know you, can’t pretend to understand
what’s happening in my own head.

But honestly?
I feel like maybe the arrow must have grazed me
when I wasn’t looking.

Wishin'

2008-07-03T09:15:00.001-07:00

When the day is quiet

I find myself wishingfor something that's absent within me.

Is it wishin' for more time to do what I do

or am I wishin' for someone in my life like you?

Dreams

2008-07-03T09:13:00.000-07:00

I love to sleep,

I love to dream...

to see a world that might have been,

to dwell a spell in some enchanted place in my mind,

or feel a man's arms wrap around me from behind.

The sweet simple moments are fleeting in my dreams

and I yearn for them to come to me again.

The Truth

2008-07-03T09:09:00.000-07:00

I am without hope and yet I dream.
I have lost duality but found myself.
I am publicly confident and privately lost.
I wear my life on my sleeve with my heart in a vise.
What to do?
What to do?
I really hate I'm still lost without you.

Quiet Time

2008-07-03T09:08:00.000-07:00

There's music in my head tonight though the room is silent. After talking and playing music all day it's nice to sit quietly and muse about what song happens to pop into my mind uninvited. Tonight it's nothing I recognize. It's just a pretty background for my thoughts,which is really where I was headed all along.

Kiss

2008-07-03T08:50:00.000-07:00

I used to think we should get that first kiss overwith as soon as possible, maybe even before you know if you are compatible or not.

You know what I mean if you've ever leaned in for that first kiss and had your mouth swallowed whole. Or he kisses like he's performing tongue to tongue CPR...and it's not working.

So it seemed logical to me that getting that first kiss out of the way could save a lot of wasted time with the wrong one. Then I learned the excruciating beauty of anticipation.

Staring at his mouth until we cannot help but bring our mouths closer together...and then back off, putting off the crucial first kiss for a little while longer. Talking late into the night on a first date and our body language brings us closer together, close enough to wonder if this is the moment and then pulling away.

The anticipation and hormones flowing make almost touching the most exquisite longing I have ever experienced.Now I know you can never get back your first kiss and that's what I think makes a first kiss worth waiting for.

Haunting

2008-07-03T08:21:00.001-07:00

Now you have crept back into my dreams
like I haven't lived this nightmare long enough.
The time of you and I is long, long dead,
what is it going to take to get you out of my head?

Carolina on my mind

2008-07-03T08:19:00.000-07:00

Seventeen days and Christine and I will be jetting to North Carolina for a week at the beach with my extraordinary family. I can't wait.

So when I sift through the messages and calls from flood victims and the people who are trying to help them and I can't stop crying, I think about the beach.

I think about walking the sand with my mom and talking about anything and everything.

I think about holding my 22-year old daughter's hand on the plane because she's afraid of flying.

I think about my funny father and the great food he'll be grilling while we're there.

I think about my beautiful sisters who will be at my side for six days running and I can't wait to be with them.

I think about floating in the ocean up to my neck in soft, salty waves, floating all day if the riptides don't stop me.

It's the nature of my job to deal with events like this catastrophic flooding, but the hardships my friends are enduring make me cry. The pictures keep coming, of flooded streets and homes and broken levees and roads and they make me cry. The calls keep coming and everyone wants or needs something. Like I said, it's in the nature of my job.

But today when I can I am thinking of the beach and our escape, so close I can taste the salt water.

Just a bite

2008-07-03T08:18:00.000-07:00

I write when I’m hungry or when I’m sad.
Right now I’m seriously thinking about hunger;
the passionate, torch like fire of your touch,
the soul drenching kiss that seems endless
but begins again and again,
each kiss taking us to a hotter place
until finally the heat between us
fuses us together
for that moment in time.

I made it to youtube!

2008-07-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

When Jeff Bates was in town for our big show, he stopped by the studio for an impromptu interview. His people were there videotaping, along with our own videographer Scott. Jeff's video guy included a little of our interview in his clip, so I made youtube for the first time ever!
I feel like a Vetters kid now. ;-)

http://www.youtube.com/jeffbatesmusic

If by chance you're a Jeff Bates fan (and you should be, he's awesome) you can hear a better audio quality video of our entire interview here:

http://www.hi99.com/wimpy/videoindex.aspx For this one you'll have to scroll down the archive to find JEFF BATES INTERVIEW 1. He sang "Long Slow Kisses" to me and it's worth the viewing. His voice is simply amazing.

Things my sisters have taught me

2008-06-18T12:31:00.001-07:00

*Victoria Principal's acne cream really works.

*Kindness is easier on everyone.
*It isn't the cost of the gift but the thought behind the giving...and if it's homemade, it's the best gift of all.

*The longer I stay in one place (by choosing to stay in Terre Haute radio) the harder it will be for me to ever leave. (Guess Carla was right on that one) Something to do with endorphins in the brain.*Dog people are good people.

*Walk with God.*Don't go sailing in forty foot waves.

*No matter how bad it is, we can ALWAYS confide in Mom and Dad.

*If you catch your fingers in the blades of an electric mixer, running screaming down the street is probably not the best way to seek medical attention.

*Jump in! Whether it's a party or a job interview, show up and make an impression!*I never have to ask for help because my sister is already there giving it to me freely.

*Spend as much time with Mom and Dad as possible.

What can a makeover do for you?

2008-03-19T09:50:00.000-07:00

I’ve been in a rut. Call it a seasonal thing, call it the winter blahs, call me lazy, but the crux of the condition can be summed up in three words: I don’t care. I don’t care how I look, I don’t worry about finding a man and I don’t fret over clutter or housework undone.

One can live in the land of apathy indefinitely, I have discovered, especially if there is no partner or young children over which to brood and focus. Since I have neither and I live in relative obscurity (remember, RADIO is in your mind, it’s not a face to face job ordinarily) I've been living in the land of apathy for a few years.

So I have managed to plod frumpily along until HI-99 decided to give away a makeover to some lucky listener. That means I get lucky too, because Rave Aveda Salon and Spa would perform the makeover on me to show our listeners just how wonderful this opportunity would be to win.

I met with stylist Cheryl the week before the makeover so we could formulate a plan of action. Chery thought my skin tone and green eyes would be nice with a deep, rich red color. Having been a bleached blond all my life, this news of red both shocked me and provoked my interest. I readily agreed to put myself in Cheryl’s hands and let her work her magic.

Before I go further I have a confession to make. The last few years have been rough on me and it seemed I had aged a decade overnight. Wrinkles had set in overnight and my eyes seemed to shrink more every day. I just didn’t feel pretty anymore. In fact, I felt a little helpless and dismayed at the physical cards I’d been dealt.

So the timing of this makeover at Rave Aveda was fortuitous, to say the least.

The day of the makeover I was nervous. Could a haircut and a new color really help my appearance at this point in my life? I didn’t think so, but I arrived on time and ready for whatever Cheryl had in mind.

Now here’s the really cool part: Cheryl had been thinking about her approach to this makeover ever since we met a week previously! I wasn’t just an eleven o’clock appointment, I was her chance to truly change someone’s life…and even if I didn’t know it yet, I think she did.

We did the color first as another Rave Aveda gal gave me a long, wonderful hand massage. That’s part of the way they treat you at Rave Aveda. Every client in a stylist's chair had warming pads on her hands following a wonderful massage. The arthritis in my right hand was soothed every minute I was there.

Once the color was done we headed into the spa room for the professional makeup application. Cheryl “tinted” my eyebrows and eyelashes, so now my eyes are “framed” beautifully AND it won’t wash off for several weeks! I can skip the whole makeup routine except for dabbing on some fabulous lipstick I purchased from Rave that day. Well, and I do apply some eye shadow, because the tones she used were so pretty I just had to have them.

Then it was time to head back out to the salon to cut and style my new red hair. I hadn’t looked at this point; I wanted it to be a surprise.

And boy was it ever!! But it was the best surprise I have experienced in YEARS. Somehow that haircut opened up my eyes and made my face look less fat. I say that because it’s the same face and eyes, but the dramatic changes made from going to short and sassy and red were unbelievable.

You still have a chance to win a makeover that can change your life too!
Register at http://www.hi99.com/ by clicking on the MONDAY MAKEOVER WITH RAVE AVEDA SALON AND SPA banner and filling out the form that comes up.
Good luck! Deadline to enter is Monday, March 24th.

And if you’ve been looking for a stylist you can trust, especially if you like short hair, Cheryl is the best stylist I’ve had in over a decade. She’s a wonderful person and an OUTSTANDING hairstylist and she really loves to do color. So give her a call and make an appointment for your new look! Rave Aveda Salon And Spa: 812 232-7771

Rollin' with the flow

2008-01-24T09:43:00.000-08:00

Had a nice visit with Granddad last night. At first I thought he was in a foul mood…cussing everything from the gal he thinks might be stealing food from the retirement home to the democrat party in general. At one point he pointed to a spot on the floor and told me the “help” was stealing his macadamia nuts: that crushed nut on the carpet was his proof.

I asked if it wasn’t possible that he might have dropped one on his lap when HE was eating them, and it rolled onto the floor when he stood up, but he refused to entertain the possibility. I didn’t want him to get testy on me so I let it drop.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes while I tried to think of something to talk about that was a little more positive. I finally decided at the ripe old age of 93, he’s earned the right to complain about anything he likes. I just need to learn to roll with it.

Inspired, I leaned forward and showed him a stain on my pants leg.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Bubblegum!” I announced, outraged. Then I told him about my dinner at IHOP the night before and how I figure someone must have put their gum on the bench where my leg was, disgusting!

That set him off on the thoughtlessness of people and we didn’t have a lag in the conversation after that.

He really is a cool old man. And I learn something about life in general every time we visit. ;-)

Letter from a listener

2008-01-11T10:03:00.000-08:00

Dear Diane

I have been listening to you this am and I wanted to let you know that my husband (Sgt Troy Truax) in also one of the brave gentlemen that will be going to Iraq also leaving January 2nd. He is leaving behind a 11 & 7 year old daughter and a 16 month old son. That there is the hardest yet to swallow, doing my best to make sure that this little boy will remember his daddy. So if you would please play by Toby Keith “American Soldier” . That would mean the world to my family and thanks from a brave wife who is giving her soldier up for the next year.

God Bless
Shannon M Truax

Hi Shannon....missed your email til just now, so I'm sorry 'bout that! I just took a look at my lineup and I think I can do that today, hope you're still listening.

One of my "missions" in this war is to support you family members left behind when Guardsmen are deployed. I grew up in the military and having daddy gone was a natural part of our lives. But for you families, it's a jolting, terrifying slam to the life you know and I'm aware of that.

So I'm going to tell you what I tell all my "mommies" when their hubbies get deployed:

You can talk to me and call me and cry and worry as much as you want and need to...(or your friends and family of course), but please try to remember that YOU HAVE TO BE STRONG FOR YOUR CHILDREN. I absolutely know how hard that will be, I know what I'm saying to you, but I promise you, I ADORE MY MOTHER and I know it's partly because of her amazing strength raising five little kids while Dad was shipboard for two YEARS at a time.

So take heart: you are not alone in your daily battle...you've got me to lean on anytime you need to vent, but be strong for your precious children because that's what they will remember about you as they grow up. Be the rock, Mama, be their rock.

God bless those who serve,
diane

2007-08-30T09:58:00.000-07:00

My niece Abby is three years old. I got a chance to spend quite a bit of time around her (and several other nieces and nephews) on vacation this summer and it was time I cherish now.

As you can see, she has the face of an angel. Her features are delicate, ultra-feminine, a real sweetie.

I wish you could hear Abby's voice. It's clear as a bell, and in some indescribable way, teensy tiny. Her diction is excellent and her break-your-heart-voice is simply endearing music to my ears.

So you can imagine my surprise when some of us were hanging out in the stairway landing and Abby suddenly pipes up, "Oh my God!" in that tiny yet distinctive little voice of hers, for no apparent reason at all.

Maddie (the only teenager among the little ones at that time and place) and I exchanged a fleeting look of proper shock and Maddie, ever Abby's devoted Godmother, gently explained we don't SAY THAT.

So naturally Abby said, as dramatically as possible, "Oh my GOD!"

I wish I had a tape of it, it was so funny to hear a voice that tiny break a Commandment, so I completely understood Maddie's heroic yet unsuccessful effort to stifle the laughter building up inside her before grabbing Abby and half saying, half laughing, "NO Abby, you CAN'T SAY THAT!" By that point all the little ones were giggling hysterically.

It was just one of those quicksilver moments in our lives that pass by forever if someone doesn't write it down. So I did.

The Reality of War

2007-08-18T08:19:00.000-07:00

Sometime in my young adulthood I became familiar with something I call “painful knowledge.” Painful knowledge is stuff you don’t want to know but probably should. It’s things you don’t want to hear but can’t forget once you do.

Long before we started sending troops to the Middle East I’ve been supporting the men and women who serve this country, but the Iraqi war stepped that up so much that I get calls weekly from tearful mothers whose children are headed over or grateful ones whose children just returned.

Nearly all the soldiers, sailors and Marines I have spoken with put on an impressively brave, strong face for me but the following exchange between myself and a sailor named Mike compels me to share the painful knowledge our young men and women are learning every day in “the sandbox.”

Sent: Thursday, July 26, 2007 9:32 AMSubject: SITREP #7 - Greetings from Mike
Shipmates/friends/family,Greetings to all, wanted to get something out in between what continues to be a very busy schedule. I keep speculating that maybe we will get a break here sometime soon, but I know it's just a mind game that I play with myself. There are so many over here that have it worse than I, so there will be no complaining on this end.I was out recently visiting some of my Sailors, just out chatting with them and thanking them for what they do everyday and one of them asked me how long we had been mobilized, and I said since early January. He reminded me that we are already over 200 days, with only around 80 more to go. I was honestly floored, because it has literally been a whirlwind since the beginning with so many moving pieces. It really kind of got me focused, and reminded me of all the things that I haven't checked off of my list yet. I wonder if I have missed anybody in my travels, have I overlooked a Sailor because I was too busy, are we meeting the needs and pushing our Command Philosophy strongly enough? " Navy Customs Battalion SIERRA will build on the foundation of expertise and the accomplishments of previous missions in order to provide exceptional customs inspection services for returning service members and cargo. We will exemplify the Navy Core Values of Honor, Courage, and Commitment to build a team that works together to enable individuals to become better citizen-Sailors."The Triad Leadership team, the CO/XO and myself developed this early on, and we try our best to live up to it each and every day. We know it's a tall order, but we want each and every Sailor under our charge to leave this deployment a better person, a better Sailor and a better American. I just go through moods of self-reflection wondering if we have missed something. It's mentally and physically draining to take the problems/issues and concerns of over 400 Sailors to heart, but that's what we have and they deserve all that we have to offer. Sleepless nights are the norm, but that's ok because each time my cell phone rings I have an opportunity to help one of our Sailors - maybe it's a REDCROSS emergency message involving family, maybe it's someone who got in a wreck (very scary as over 90% of accidents on Kuwait roads end with at least 1 fatality), maybe one of our Customs Inspectors found a FRAG bomb and they are waiting on EOD, maybe one of our Sailors got a call from his/her spouse and they are threateing to harm themselves or other family members....the list goes on and on. But trust me on this one, my life is never dull and I honestly cannot believe the issues we deal with on a daily, usually hourly, basis. We were recently up visiting our Sailors at Khabari crossing (K-crossing), this is the border crossing between Kuwait and Iraq. This is up at the front lines, and I worry about my Sailors up there, it is a potentially very dangerous place. Anyway, they look at our returning service members (Army) Humvees and Armored Personnale Vehicles (APV's) as they return on missions from Iraq. We were out on the line when 4 vehicles were returning from a mission, and it was the most amazing thing. Out climbs kids ranging in age from 19-25, and the Convoy Commander was a Sergeant (E-5). This Sergeant has more responsibility than most people can fathom or will ever have in their lifetimes, because when they escort the convoys up into Iraq, y'all see on the news what happens sometimes with the IED's. This kid of only 25 literally has to make calls that could mean life and death for his soldiers, I have so much respect for these guys. So my CO and I passed out some of our battalion coins, shook all of their hands, loaded them up with Gatorade, and thanked them for what they do on a daily basis. Of course, they shook it off as nothing, but believe me, these are our real heroes and we let them know it that day. Speaking of heroes, I want to share an e-mail that I got from a friend of mine who is serving in the Navy Nurse Corps at the Lundstuhl Medical Center in Germany. If you ever are having a bad day, I invite you to put yourself in her shoes for a moment ,I'll bet you your day isn't as bad. Yet she performs her job professionally, honorably and without complaint. I'm extremely proud to call her my friend, and thank god we have folks like her who do the real dirty work of war. It's not pretty by any stretch of the imagination and I pray for her and the other Sailors at the hospital every day. I pray that they are able to remain strong and healthy as they do their absolute best to return some sort of normalcy to these service members lives. Her story is very graphic, honest, and it is a tough read. But we are at war, and this is a real story, not the bullcrap they put on TV everyday back home. In closing, I again want to thank the folks who continue to stay in touch with me even if only by e-mail. When I get the rare chance to go through the personal letters, it's easily the best part of my time here - thanks so much!! God speed to all.Mike Subject: It's July ... 107 days plus a wake up!
July 19, 2007

Guten Tag Everyone!

I have received many, many emails from most of you asking if everything is OK, that you haven’t heard from me in several months as I was emailing monthly sharing what we are doing here in Germany and my travels. Thank you to those who missed my long emails and asked me to continue. I am sorry that I fell out of doing that so I’ll try to explain why.

Let me start out by saying that “I am proud to serve, and honored in what I am doing with the wounded warriors here at Landstuhl.” I have been in a ‘rut’ and feeling down. I am 47 years old, homesick and tired of missing my husband, my daughters, my parents, my dog, my friends, my house, my job, everything! This is one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life that I can remember. 350 Navy Reservists have been taken away from their lives and put them on hold for more than a year. It is tougher than I ever imagined it would be! This I could handle but what we see everyday, what we deal with everyday, trying to live and manage in the ‘Army’s world’ this is t he hard part of our mission! The injuries that I see each day at work has left marks on my heart, my soul, my spirit and are forever in my memories. I know why few military ‘talk’ about war, about what they’ve seen and been through because it makes them more permanent and tougher to deal with each time you talk about it. Living the horrors again and again is draining and it doesn’t get easier.

I haven’t wanted to tell any of you how it really is here because it would take away from the wounded warriors we take care of everyday. Our wounded sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, cousins, girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, wives, best friends, granddaughters, grandsons, whatever category they fall into. I only told my husband recently some things but not all as I don’t want him to worry anymore than he already is and I can handle it until we leave here, in 107 days and a wake up!

All Navy personnel live in condemned Air Force housing on an Army installation and these buildings will be torn down when we leave here and thank goodness the Navy replacement group coming in after us fortunately will NOT be living in these buildings. I live on the first floor and on really warm days, we are not able to open our kitchen and dining room windows as directly below the windows is a stairwell that goes into the basement that has a three to four inch layer of ‘sewage sludge’ and the smell, well I think you understand. Yes, I have pictures! Our balconies have layers of mold growing on them that the housing authority, Air Force says if it bothers us, we can ‘scrub’ it off ourselves! Our apartments even though we clean them, never look like we do! This is Landstuhl, now at Vogelweh, there was actually mold inside rooms and we had some personnel that were having allergic reactions to it and had to be moved (to other condemned buildings!) and told that if it bothered them, they could paint over it. They had carpeting in their rooms and I can’t begin to describe the smell … it took weeks of arguing with both Army and Air Force to get them to clean the carpets. The sad thing is that most of our junior Sailors are here but they made the best of a bad situation. Navy was told we could rent carpet cleaning machines and clean it ourselves! Those living at Ramstein Air Force Base, also live in very similar condemned conditions! Plus we have construction that has been going on where we all live at the three different locations since we arrived last November, not good sleeping for the ones who work nights! There are also Army room inspections that are conducted quarterly or when new company commanders take over. They come into our apartments to check that we all have ‘red’ mattresses on our beds and if we signed for curtains that they are hanging. I am NOT kidding. Now the kicker is that for those who work nights, they check their rooms and wake them to check to see their red mattresses!

Let me share with you that every month Army has a 4-day weekend planned. Now you are all saying, how wonderful you get a 4-day weekend every month. I did not say it’s a Navy 4-day weekend, WE DON’T get it! Our Army counterparts do. During this 4-day that includes Friday and a Monday, our wounded warriors arriving from down range (Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait) are NOT seen in Clinics because the clinics are closed! Navy has been fighting this since we’ve arrived. One of my fellow co-workers, a Lieutenant says it best, “they obviously didn’t get the memo there’s a war going on”. And then you wonder why Walter Reed happened …. Hmmmmmm. Landstuhl Regional Medical Center has a saying, “Selfless Service”, well I say it’s “Selfish Service”. I was so excited to get here to be involved with Army medicine … thank God; Navy medicine and Navy arrived here. I can’t explain more than that and I pray and hope that Navy keeps coming in because OUR wounded warriors need Navy medicine! Rank really doesn’t mean much here in Army world unless you’re well Army. Oh, I almost forgot about “Sergeants time on Thursday from 0730 to 1300, again, Navy doesn’t get that either. I am NOT complaining because Navy wants to do the mission we’re here to do but we do expect it to be fair, after all we are ‘joint service’, right? I have really tried to be a ‘suck it up Sailor’ and keep my mouth shut, and just do what I’m here for but I’m loosing steam. The fight is constant and draining, physically and emotionally. Army also has authority over Navy to deny passes and leaves, which they exercise and has happened to me but its OK because when that’s happened we’ve been very busy receiving large numbers of wounded warriors and that’s why I’m here, not on a European vacation.

Another difficult part is that I am TOO old to have room mates. We get along but are so different and we are middle aged adults and have been forced to live with casual acquaintances that we barely know and it’s tough! I mean it’s really tough but again, I can do it because at the end of the day, I get to walk, I have both arms, both legs and I know I have a good life back home. I get to ride my bike out of the hospital and leave our wounded warriors there until the next morning or next day I work, so it’s all good.

I grew up hearing ‘sea stories’ from my Grandpa when he was in the Navy during WWI. My Dad was in the Marines during the Korean War and I heard some of his stories and my brother got out of the draft for Vietnam because he was in college and it ended during that time frame but I remember watching the news and I grew up with how Americans felt about being involved in Vietnam. I am proud to serve my country and know that what I am doing here at Landstuhl was to be part of my destiny, I was suppose to be here, to do what I am very good at doing. But it comes with a price. How do I explain to my daughters and husband the sense of pride I feel being in the military and sacrificing time that I am not with them? That I don’t get time back to celebrate last Thanksgiving, Christmas, Mother’s Day, my oldest daughter Nicole turning 21 on 07-07-07, that I’ll miss my first year wedding anniversary with my husband in August and my youngest, Samantha turning 16. I am in the angry and depressed stage because on my days off, I don’t want or have energy to do things.

I am exhausted because when I am at work, it takes 110% of my being and soul to listen, to explain, to understand and to cry along with our wounded warriors. I get to see firsthand, in person the ravages of this war, this “Enduring Freedom” campaign we as a nation have taken on. I want us all to go home but we can’t. I have come to the realization that this war will go on for many years and the cost to America’s sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, cousins, girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, wives, best friends, granddaughters, grandsons has been and will continue to be very high.

Try to imagine listening to a young adult describe in such vivid details of how his unit/company hit an IED and how he saw his/her ‘buddy’ die as they watched and were not able to do anything to help. Imagine listening to details of the war-front so horrible, so unbelievable of what is being done to our troops that you get physically ill just listening but you have to listen because there is a cleansing need for the soldier/sailor/marine/airman to tell someone their story. They can’t tell their wife, husband, mother, father, brother, sister, friend because the details and fear of what they’ve seen and experienced would be too much for them to handle. Try wheeling the lucky 24 year old soldier with an external fixator on his lower leg from the Ortho floor up to ICU to see his ‘battle buddy’ who lost both of his legs, and is on a ventilator. The 24 year old asks you to help him stand up from the wheelchair. You steady his arm as your 25 years of nursing experience pulls at you and you tell he really needs to sit back down but you watch as he gently leans over and kisses his buddy on his forehead and then sits down in his wheelchair and asks to sit there for a few minutes as he holds his buddy’s hand as tears are running down his face and yours. And you know again, this was a moment meant to be in your destiny.

I literally get a ‘sick’ feeling in my stomach as I begin my day at 0400 (getting up at 0300) as I read medical information on the wounded warriors that will be arriving that day. Some of their physical and emotional injuries are so horrible, so devastating it’s hard to believe. I meet and greet the bus that brings them up the hill to the hospital from the flight line at Ramstein Air Base. Myself and a Chaplin greet each wounded warrior as they are off loaded from the bus by a manpower team of 6-8, we use their first names, we welcome them to Landstuhl, to Germany and tell them that they are safe, and we’ll take good care of them. They are so grateful, they squeeze our hands, say ‘thank-you’, some can’t talk as they are on ventilators and sometimes they cry, for those who know me, I’ve gotten better at not crying but I when I leave work, I usually cry on my ride home or in the shower. I pray constantly for strength to continue my role here until I leave. Most of these wounded warriors are the same ages as my oldest two daughters and it’s difficult. We get a lot of amputees, one leg, both legs and sometimes an arm that has been ripped off by an IED blast, an RPG or mortar attack. Try to imagine how life changing this is going to be for a 22 year old, went to Iraq and now going home as a bilateral AKA (both legs cut off above the knees). Now, spin in the emotional impact this 22 year old now faces for the next 50 years or more, could you handle it? Now, add the fact that I know the military healthcare system is incredibly deficient and not really capable of helping this 22 year old or it will be short lived and this 22 year old will be forgotten or lost in a system already bogged down and in serious trouble. I have nightmares about this and it’s always on my mind. I can’t stop thinking about what we sending them back to. How will they deal with their injuries, how will their families deal with them?

Now change gears from the inpatients to the ‘walking wounded’ that I talk to as we need to send them back to CONUS (US) or back down range to Iraq. The military is now dealing with its form of TBI (traumatic brain injury). These injuries are a result of exposure to IED blasts, mortar blasts, RPG blasts that literally shake the body so violently from the force of these explosions; the brain gets bounced against the hard bones in the skull, I refer to it as ‘adult shaken-baby syndrome’. The results and symptoms vary person to person but usually are constant, severe headaches so bad, they can’t sleep, dizziness, difficulty concentrating, difficulty thinking, difficulty with memory both long term and short term, and photopho bia where daylight forces the wearing of sunglasses and the light itself makes the headaches worse and loud noises and sounds can’t be tolerated, irritability and aggressiveness are also part of the symptoms experienced. This affects 18 year olds to 57 year olds. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to talk with someone with a positive TBI as tears well up in their eyes because their head hurts so bad it interferes with everything they do and they can’t remember their wives name, their girlfriend, their parents, their kids, the name of the town they grew up in or what State they are from or how old they are? Some have memory problems so severe and symptoms so severe, we have to admit them to the hospital. I had a 18 year old boy from Indiana, a Marine, he was so cute and tried to be well, a Marine tha t while we were talking, he stopped mid-sentence, looked at me and said ma’am, I’m scared, I miss my mom but I can’t remember her name or where I live and he had tears in his eyes and said he could really use a hug from his mom, so I hugged him and it was a death grip hug as he cried for a long time on my shoulder and I knew I was suppose to be there at that moment for him. This, my friends happens a lot. All TBI patients that are positive can not fly commercial as they must fly military air because their memory is so affected that they will get lost and forget where they are suppose to go and will panic, just as we would do. It’s heartbreaking to talk to the TBI wounded warriors. I try to tell them they will be ok, it will get better for them but at the same time I am so afraid of what lies ahead of them when they leave Landstuhl. What has been exactly set up for them when they get back to the US? And the worst part is knowing that most will go home, get ‘fixed’ and be back to Iraq. I’ve already seen repeats.

It’s depressing and the most rewarding thing I have ever done in my life but it’s taken its toll on me and on those around me. I tell my girls all the time to ‘thank’ anyone they know is or has been in the military. Say prayers for all in the military and for our leaders to give them strength to make huge decisions that impact all of us, pray that somewhere, someway OUR Warriors come home! Everyday I am at Landstuhl, I thank our warriors for their service to our country, I thank them as Lieutenant Commander USN, and I thank them on behalf of my family and friends for their service and for what they've given for us.

I am sorry this turned out to be so long but I wanted to tell all of you how it is here and what we deal with everyday. I know it could be worse, I could be sitting in a tent in the middle of a desert so life isn't so bad. I’ll be so happy to get back home to my routine, my life but know that I will come back forever changed from this experience. I hope to see many of you within the next 4 to 5 months. Next time, I won’t be so long, so graphic, so depressing. God Bless Everyone!

My reply to Mike:
Well both of those were difficult to read. In my position I'm trying to uphold the spirits of the family members of the very men and women you and your nurse friend are talking about, and there wasn't much here I felt I could share. It really IS hard to be positive in the cold light of reality isn't it Mike?

I did share your paragraph about the ages of these men who jumped out of that humvee. The 25-year old E-5. Lots of responsibility indeed....sure leaves me wondering what it's all for this time. rough!

Two weeks ago I was on what now seems like an unbelievably carefree family vacation. All my brothers and sisters and my parents on the beach in North Carolina. It was nice to leave all this behind me for a few days.....after reading these emails I almost feel guilty for having such a gift in my life. Then I remind myself that my father served our country for 20 years as I was growing up and maybe he earned a little of it for me. I don't know anymore. But I'm going to share our family pic with you so you will know me a little bit as I'm getting to know you. (I'm the only one wearing shades.)

Mike, hang in there. Please know that what you're doing is making a difference in so many lives. And when you write to your nursing friend, consider sharing my email address with her. She talks of all the things she CAN'T talk about to anyone because it's just too much, too horrible, too unforgettable. But doesn't she really need to tell it to someone too? Doesn't she need a safe place to fall? I volunteer to be that place if she ever needs it. Same for you. I completely understand and agree that your family members don't need to know the grisly details, but this woman is a nurse in a war, for heaven's sake! She's got me if she needs me. Just tell her it's an opportunity to let go of some of this stuff...she needs it whether she knows it or not.

Keep up the good work, you make me very very proud...of you, of the U.S. Navy, of our country.

God bless those who serve,
diane

Diane,So sorry about the delayed response here, seems our schedule sometimes turns into a non-stop marathon. As I read your note, I am reminded of thoughts that I have also concerning our job here, our mission here, are we really making a difference in the big picture of the world and the US?? And as much as it hurts when I think about what our kids are sacrificing here, like their lives, I just wonder when and if it will end.In my travels with my CO, we go out and visit the service members here on the front lines and in the field hospitals. We go around and shake all their hands, thank them for their service, provide moral support, let them know we and everyone thinks of them as heroes etc, but it's beginning to wear on us. I'm not going to tell you what we see in the hospitals, but I find myself alone at night sometimes in deep reflection with a higher power asking and wondering why and how this can be happening. I honestly thought I was a tougher person and leader, but over time, the reality of war wears on your soul, but enough of my whining. I did share your e-mail address with my friend, but doubt seriously she will take you up on your offer, she will continue to put on her brave and positive face, and deal with the hard part on her own terms.The CO and I are off to the country north of Kuwait, so my time is short on the computer.Anyway, just wanted to write a note and say "thank you so much" for your continued support of the great Americans and their families who continue to serve over here. And believe me, you have nothing to feel guilty about enjoying the time off with family, you can't imagine what your little notes and concern for our heroes means to them and me. Take care, and I will update all soon.Sincerely,Mike

The Cota kids

2007-08-07T08:37:00.000-07:00

My only brother and his wife have four small children. In more ways than one they are carrying on the Cota family name.

But we used to be the Cota kids, and it was the best kind of childhood imaginable.

Carla was the oldest and the strongest and the fiercest.

Then me. I was smart and moody.

Then Marjorie, hard working, honest, determined.

Then Chris, the baby of the girls, so pretty.

And then came Jim, the afore-mentioned father of four. Back then he was the only boy, a tow-headed burst of energy wtih a million-dollar grin.

This July we all gathered at the beach near our parents' home in North Carolina to spend a week together. We played games, we prepared meals, we did dishes, we read books, went shelling and swimming and had a great visit to North Carolina's new aquarium. We played in the surf and laid in the sun. We put up umbrellas and chased down inflatables. We listened to the wind and we watched a storm blow in over the horizon. We marvelled at the rolling thunder and jumped in shock when a bolt of lightning struck close. We dug our toes in the sand and lathered on sunscreen. We did laundry and we took naps. We missed the few who were not among us and we told our favorite stories again. We dusted off our memories and made some new ones.

It was truly wonderful to be a Cota kid again.

What I did on my summer vacation

2007-08-07T07:59:00.001-07:00

The best vacation EVER was spent this summer at the beach in North Carolina with my family. Something about the sand, the surf, the souls tumbling together in a sandy, sunny place...

I liked to drag my chair to the water and let the waves slosh around my ankles.

Grace was my little beachcomber buddy. If I was in the water, she was in the water. If I just wanted to sit and watch the waves, that was okay, too. She enjoyed everything about the beach. And I enjoyed her.

Every vacation should be this sweet, I'm thinking. I'm also thinking maybe now I know why my brother always looks so deeply, richly happy.

Serendipity, Soldiers and Scouts

2007-08-03T09:20:00.000-07:00

It's happening again...that serendipitous chain of events which ultimately results in new bonds made with not only people here in the Wabash Valley, but also soldiers half a world away.

It began earlier this week when my brother Jim reminded me his old buddy Buss (a close family friend) is over in the Middle East. I knew that. I last saw Buss when he came home on emergency leave for his mother's funeral.

When I walked in and saw him I just wrapped my arms around him and hugged him hard; held him tightly. He didn't let go for a long time. I felt like a surrogate mom in that moment and my heart ached for him.

And now he's back to work somewhere in the desert. So I sent a quick email which he answered just as quickly, assuring me it was fine to write, that he loved mail from home.

As I often do, I shared a little of Buss on the air and the request line rang. It was a guy named James Walker, calling to see if I could help him reach Buss. He served under him in the 192nd, some time ago. I aired James' call, during which he mentioned Buss' full name and the phone rang again.

This time it was Dr. Hay's wife from Rosedale, wondering if this would be the same family as a Buss Wood she knew in that small midwestern town.

And now the Cub Scout leader who emailed me just days ago asking if I might know of a unit her scouts could adopt has a name, a unit to support and that ever-vital APO address.

See, nowadays we can't send care packages to "Any Soldier" as generous Americans have done in the past. In the modern world where terrorism is an ever-present threat, that's not safe anymore. So if you don't know a soldier personally, you can't send mail. Reaching Buss now gives that scout pack an outlet for their thoughtfulness and generosity.

When I got done airing all of this, I grab the audio and sent it to Buss. I thought he might enjoy hearing some of the voices from home that talked about him today on HI-99. It's my way of trying to bring a little of home to our warriors in the service.

And yes Mrs. Hay, that was Buss' grandfather and namesake you knew back when in Rosedale. And I agree, he'd sure be proud of his grandson today.

I can sleep when the wind blows

2007-06-29T10:39:00.000-07:00

I've been sitting here thinking about the effect childhood has on a person. I am nearing fifty, yet I am fond of saying I 'grew up' on Navy bases.

Shoot, I've only recently begun to feel like I might be moving forward but growing up? No, that would be a stretch. No worries, I'm working on it and I sleep when the wind blows. I read that in a story once; a wise old man who took a job as a ranch foreman. At the interview, the rancher asked him about his work ethic and the old man said, "Well, I can sleep when the wind is blowing."

The rancher didn't really understand what that meant but he liked the look of old guy so he hired him.

As luck would have it, a raging storm blew in a month or so after the foreman had started working at the ranch, and the storm was fast approaching as the rancher frantically searched for his new "man in charge." He found him asleep in his bed!

"What are you doing man?" the farmer said in a panic. There's a storm coming in and we need to tie down the hay! The animals must be sheltered and the fences checked immediately...! Why, I could lose a bundle in a wind like this one!"

The old foreman looked at his new boss and reminded him of what he said on that first day.

And the rancher suddenly understood. "I can sleep when the wind blows."

He meant the bales had already been tied down and before he put himself to bed, he tended to the animals. The fences were tight and checked on a regular basis.

Now I’m not saying I’m like this guy…my sink is often full of dirty dishes and I could stand to run the vacuum more often. But the important stuff is done on a fairly regular basis.

For sure I can sleep when the wind blows.

The War at Home

2007-06-29T08:28:00.000-07:00

THE WAR AT HOME

She's drowning in the day to day
he's missing her a world away
he can't come home; she thinks he bailed,
another letter comes by mail.

Dear John, she wrote and maybe shed a tear
I just can't do this alone without you here.
I've had help from your friend Drew
he does the things you used to do.

We took the boys to the old racetrack
he hauled the cars in your new truck
but last night he was there in a different way
so babe, i'm writing this letter to say

Dear John, it's over, dear John,

When you come home we won't be there,
Drew and I are taking the boys to the fair.
I'm sorry that this couldn't wait
'til you got home, that would be too late.

chorus
What's wrong with this world
when a mate isn't willing
to stay for the long haul?
The impact is chilling.
These men fight a battle with steel nerves and cunning,
while their women wage war they never saw coming.

A boy named Scott from Tennessee
had his girl's picture on his humvee
He took her everywhere he went
protecting her image from sand and wind.

But all Scott did was not enough,
life back home was awfully rough.
He told her things would soon be better
but then he got the poisoned letter.
Dear Scott, she wrote from her lover's home

I'm tired of your need to roam.
I didn't marry an Army man
I married a man with a farmer's tan.
I never thought you'd be called to fight
I just can't do this day and night, dear Scott.

There's Erik Smith from the midwest
When he was called up he did his best
to tell her how to get things done while
he was gone; his girl won't run.

but her letters came fewer and further between
as he lined up his target lit by moonbeam.
And at almost the same moment he pulled the trigger
she mailed her last letter; doesn't it figure?

Dear Erik, she wrote in familiar hand,
he read her goodbye in a foreign land.
He tore up the letter and sent the scraps flying
Oh well, was her logic, at least I'm not lying.
Dear Erik, it's over, dear Erik goodbye.

An interesting security measure

2007-06-23T09:39:00.000-07:00

YOU MAY HAVE SEEN THIS BEFORE BUT IT SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.

Vandalism Deterrent - Put your car keys beside your bed at night. If you hear a noise outside your home or someone trying to get into your house, just press the panic button for your car. The alarm will be set off, and the horn will continue to sound until either you turn it off or the car battery dies. This tip came from a neighborhood watch coordinator. Next time you come home for the night and you start to put your keys away, think of this: It's a security alarm system that you probably already have and requires no installation. Test it. It will go off from most everywhere inside your house and will keep honking until your battery runs down or until you! reset it with the button on the key fob chain. It works if you park in your driveway or garage. If your car alarm goes off when someone is trying to break in your house, odds are the burglar or rapist won't stick around.... after a few seconds all the neighbors will be looking out their windows to see who is out there and sure enough the criminal won't want that.

That's an email I've received several times lately....and oh yes, it seems like a brilliant idea.

Matter of fact, I thought it was such a good idea when Chris sent it around that I actually took my key fob upstairs to the bedroom with me that night.

I'd recently had a scare when I went down the stairs one night and thought I heard a noise in the kitchen. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs and the sound was so distinct I called out loudly, "Is somebody here?"

What did I expect? For the intruder to say, "Uh, yes ma'am, here I am in your kitchen, looking for valuables...?"

Truth is, my own voice scared me so badly I turned around and ran upstairs to my bedroom where I bolted the door and stayed there all night. That's what I usually do at night, stay in my bedroom, but this was the first scary night I ever spent there.

I called my ex-husband Kevin and told him about it and he offered to come by and check things out for me. I was aghast. "Of course not! What if someone really IS down there?"

I just waited for morning and when I went down to view the damage I was met by a terrible mess, which was quite a relief since it's the mess my daughter left last time she was here. And the "intruder" didn't even do my dishes!

Oh well, time to get ready for work. I tell you, I turned my house upside down looking for my car keys, which I ALWAYS leave by the back door because I used to lose them all the time. I finally placed a frantic call to work to get someone to come pick me up because I'd lost my keys and had run out of time to look for them.

Coworker Frank Rush says with an unsettlingly authoritative voice: "They're under your bed."

Startled, I first wondered how HE would know that, but it IS the one place I didn't look. So I went upstairs and just about the time I spotted them under the bed I remembered the reason for taking them upstairs in the first place.

Boy, it's pretty sad when you have a great idea to test and forget all about it when the emergency actually arises to try it out.

I think I need to get a big dog.

Or a bigger key fob. ;-)

Isn't it supposed to be WATCHING television?

2007-06-20T10:13:00.000-07:00

I’m getting a little peeved at my favorite television channels. Since I work in radio, I know more than most how competitive the media industry is these days, but television is getting ridiculous.

Here I am watching my favorite cheesy television show (no, I’m not going to share the programs with you, I watch way too much tv) and right there over the character’s face is what must be AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT.

So I take my eyes off the show and my mind follows as I read: IT’S HELL IN THE KITCHEN WEDNESDAY….ARE YOU WATCHING HELL’S KITCHEN???

Well, uh….no. I WAS trying to watch Project Runway (or whatever show it was) until I was so rudely interrupted.

I actually SPOKE to my television last night and scolded its network for doing that. I said, “Hey, you’ve ALREADY GOT ME WATCHING…! Why are you still trying to sell me???”

I understand we’re a fast-paced, demanding society of over-indulged individuals, but is it really too much to ask that the network save their commercials for the commercial break?

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you

2007-04-02T07:43:00.000-07:00

It's an interesting road, this relationship I have with my grandfather. My family is large and spread all over the country, but most of my father's side are still right here in Indiana. Granddaddy is our patriarch, the kind of tough guy a granddaughter probably looked up to in awe, and maybe a little fear. And with busy lives being what they are and my family living out of the state throughout my childhood, I can't exactly say I really know the man. Our gatherings were loud and boisterous, and involved a lot of beer. For the adults, not the children. I remember learning to carry a stein of cold ale from the shop, where Granddaddy always had a keg stocked inside a refrigerator with a specially built tap on the outside. As soon as we could walk we were put to work, to "go out to the shop and get me another beer! And don't spill it!"

We would pour from the tap like Tom Cruise in that bartender's movie, and then make the long trek from Granddad's shop out behind the house, to the house where the men, and some of the women, were playing poker. If I got really lucky, one of my uncles would grab me after I delivered the beer and declare me his good luck charm. I'd stay by his side til somebody else sent me to fetch a beer or one of the women called from wherever the women hung out...I don't remember that part.

Of course, to hear Granddaddy tell it now, apparently we spilled most of the beer on our way back to the house. When he started to tell the story the other night about how he'd get us, ("they was just little things,") to carry his beer to him, I actually smiled. I thought I knew where this was going. But his punchline was that we spilled more than we actually retrieved. Once again the joke was on me.

I've learned a couple of things from this exchange: first, he's full of crap. If we spilled that much beer he'd have fired us and fetched it himself. And secondly, I don't have to believe everything my grandfather says.

So I have determinedly continued to visit him these past months-turning-into-years because now I just enjoy him. I have him tell his stories again and again so I can discern between what actually happened, what he thinks happened, and what I think I heard him say happened. Applying that technique to the current world situation, we have pretty well decided we know it all and the world's going to hell in a handbucket.

We love Bill O'Reilly and can cuss and discuss every story covered on Fox News. We think politics are a bunch of hooey and we can sit for hours and talk about old times. He, the guy I never talked to as a child, can reminisce all day long now. I don't do a lot of talking, but for anyone who knows me, that's like a vacation.

My grandfather would grunt, “Yeah, a vacation for ME.”

Granddaddy's 93rd birthday

2007-03-13T08:08:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday we celebrated our patriarch's 93rd birthday with a bash at Beef O'Brady's in Terre Haute. Family came in from all over and a fine time was had by all.

Here he is with the Cota kids, my brother Jim's family. Talk about generations!

Today is Granddad's actual birthday. I'm having dinner with him tonight and we'll play a few games of bingo.

Life is good in the Cota lane.

Give it up

2007-03-05T11:27:00.000-08:00

"I never know what's going to come out of my mouth."

One pretty good example of that would be last year when Christine and I were coming from Ash Wednesday mass and she asked me what I planned to give up for Lent. After much discussion I found to my dismay I could not think of any vice I enjoyed enough to suffer if it was omitted from my life.

My wise-beyond-her-years (and catholic school educated) daughter pointed out to me that it didn't HAVE to be a sacrifice, it could be doing something positive, too. I'm not sure why I didn't just keep things simple and go with that, but I am what I am.

After another prolonged silence, she offered, "You could give up cussing."

I looked at her. "Do I cuss a lot?"

Well, as it turns out...in a word, YES. So giving up profanity became my lenten mission. I didn't make it through a single day without a swear word slipping in until the day before Easter. Not much to brag about. Besides, the ultimate point is to make yourself more aware of your faith, isn't it? And I was aware of my faith, of Lent, of my mission, every single day.

What I keep forgetting is that I work with a bunch of foul-mouthed men and I've learned to swear like a sailor for no apparent reason. If Frank Rush is in the room, forget about it. Something is going to slip out. And it does.

What surprises me are the times it happens when I have nobody to blame but myself. I never realized what a potty mouth I'd become. And because my desired change will also be good for the air, I know it's a good choice for mankind in general. I'm probably going to have to stay off South Third street though. Nobody goes the speed limit and the crazies swerve in and out of lanes, which scares the s--- whoops, let's just call it a day and move on, okay?

Inspiration in the Hoosier state

2007-02-06T10:20:00.000-08:00

First I have to share a photograph that was sent to me by one of you. It’s taken in the Colts locker room and I believe it was taken after the Super Bowl victory.

No wonder they inspire me so much. ;-)

Winning the Super Bowl, what a great feeling! Thanking God for our blessings, even better.

Next I want to share an email from Levi, a regular contributor to my emails. Levi plays in the Backroads Band, which you can catch around the Wabash Valley. When he’s not playing, he’s a hard working man. I asked him about his job.

“Ok....you asked for it!!!

Well....I am a Mechanical Engineer. I am the lead engineer over the project that I am currently working on.

The project is a deployable depot for the defense logistics agency. It was initially stood up to support FEMA for hurricane relief and any other civil emergency that might arise. For instance, last year iour team was on 24hour alert in case of a hurricane. Once deployed we provide all of the communications needed for first responders to the scene. As you might remember, during hurricane katrina, one of the major problems was lack of communications between the different emergency crews.....due to different radios, no command post, etc. With our system, we have solved this probelm with our communication suite. We have the ability to talk to almost any type of radio that shows up. We also have phones in our mobile complex and an internet connection via satellite.

So, that is the long and short of what I do. I think it is pretty neat plus it has the potential to help a lot of people in an emergency type situation where they would need all the help we can give them.

You have to be bored now!
Have a great day,
Levi”

Bored? I don’t think so! I’m fascinated and told him so. What I think is pretty neat is that I now know one of the guys that is absolutely going to make emergency management in catastrophic situations better in the future.

Don’t YOU like knowing that?

Marjie on my mind

2007-01-05T09:54:00.000-08:00

My sister Marjie is off on the adventure of a lifetime. In her absence I find that her travels have changed the way I see the world.

Hello Marjie!

Woke up early this morning, as I have been lately, so I flipped on the news to see what's happening in the world. I think I have a keener interest in what's going on out there than I ever have because YOU are out there somewhere.

I've heard about the 14-year old boy (probably got the age wrong, proving if the story isn't ABOUT you I won't retain it) who navigated the Atlantic, setting a record for youngest sail alone. I think. That was the first story that really caught me: it had a sailboat, the Atlantic, a vulnerable sailor...all things that would grab me these days but probably wouldn't have caused a flutter in my attention span before you took off to sail the seas.

I've heard about the California hottie who was attempting a lone sail around the world (Ken Barnes, maybe?) and got hung up off the coast of South America. hehe, I felt a lot smarter when I started this, now I'm doubting my recall.

I know where we're at in the Middle East, which is that nobody really knows where we're at with the Middle East. And I know Congress changed hands for the first time in, well...a lot of years. For the first time ever, the gavel was handed over to a woman in the United States senate. Whether or not we should be proud of her has yet to be determined. One of my favorite engineers is in here and I just told him I'm writing to you, bragging about watching the news and suddenly can't recall a single fact...yep, razor-sharp faculties at work here today.

There have never been so many private planes in the news and on tv, Marjie. I hear a story about or see one every day. ;-) Funny what you notice when your perspective changes. i don't recall paying much attention to small planes or their stories until after my sister few away on one a few weeks ago.

I've thoroughly enjoyed documentaries about the attempt to retrieve treasure from a sunken ship in the Balkan Sea (which, I have learned, is not as salty nor as clear as the seas you're travelling); and followed the story of marine biologists' quest to photograph for the first time the elusive giant squid. I have a passing knowledge of what's causing erosion at the Great Barrier Reef, have de-mystified the Bermuda Triangle and caught an episode of Two and a Half Men. Well, even I need a break from the sea every now and then...lol But I figure by the time I see you again I will be a couch marine biologist at the very least. Is there anything you need to know about the Bermuda Triangle?

None of this should be interpreted as worry. I'm not at all worried about you, just more interested in the world around me because you are out there in it.

Love, di

Do you have time?

2006-12-11T08:15:00.000-08:00

This one came with all kinds of dire consequences if I didn't send it to ten people....but I read through it because it came from my friend Dave and he's a keeper. ;-)

Fortunately, in the midst of all the comments about my not loving the Lord if I don't find the time to send this to at least ten people I found the heart of the matter. I thought it was a nice message of peace for all of us, especially now when the holiday rush makes it so easy to feel overwhelmed.

I knelt to pray but not for long, I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work for bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer, and jumped up off my knees.

My Christian duty was now done my soul could rest at ease.
All day long I had no time To spread a word of cheer
No time to speak of Christ to friends, they'd laugh at me I'd fear.
No time, no time, too much to do, that was my constant cry,

No time to give to souls in need but at last the time, the time to die.
I went before the Lord, I came, I stood with downcast eye,
For in his hands God held a book; It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said "Your name I cannot find
I once was going to write it down... but never found the time."

"May you grow to be as beautiful as God meant you to be when He first thought of you."

A moment captured

2006-10-25T12:42:00.000-07:00

Last month my family gathered in Indy to celebrate the 50th anniversary of my parents. (See earlier entry)

During the mass, Mom and Dad renewed their wedding vows. It was a simple and beautiful moment, until my father turned toward all of us and we could see tears on his cheeks, his complexion that reddened shade it gets when we weep.

Well, that's all it took for this famly to dissolve into our own little rivers of tears.

But there was a moment happening right in front of me I would have missed but for this picture. Three of my parents' grandchildren were gathered together in the front pew. As the vow renewals began and Dad showed his emotion, these three cousins found themselves reaching for each other.

There are lots of great pictures from our weekend celebration...this mass was just the beginning. But I think this is my favorite.

Look up in the sky! It's a plane! And a bomber! And a country star!

2006-10-25T12:32:00.000-07:00

Then there was the 2006 Terre Haute Air Fair with an evening concert by Air Force veteran Craig Morgan. (Redneck Yacht Club, Little Bit Of Life, etc)

My sister Chris came over and boy did we have fun walking around the airport checking out all there was to see and do. We snagged our cowgirl hats (see mine in picture) from the fabulous Army men at the climbing wall. Good thing Chris is still limber enough to get up that wall, I really wanted a hat.

Although meeting Craig Morgan was a definite thrill, I have to say the most memorable moment was standing in front of the Furniture Gallery tent waiting for the Stealth Bomber to fly over my head. The classical music accompanying its arrival was PERFECT....and there it was...a tiny blip in the distant sky, coming slowly closer....but mysteriously no sound emitting. Closer, closer and I whipped out my camera and held it skyward in hopes of getting lucky with my aim. It was a beautiful sunny day and I got lucky...PERFECT pictures of this extraordinary military vehicle on my phone. I'd share them if I knew how to get them out.

The concert itself was an amazing success! The crowd was estimated to be 8-thousand, which is comparable to a good concert at Hulman Center, and Craig is a showman. I LOVED being up on that stage with so many happy fans getting psyched up.

Now my sister Marjie wants to know how I get these stars to wrap their arms around me like this.

I think I'll keep THAT secret to myself a little longer. ;-)

Jeff Bates is HOT

2006-10-25T12:28:00.000-07:00

Ladies, I'm sure you will agree: Jeff Bates is HOT. He is SO much cuter in person than I expected him to be! And an extraordinary flirt.

When I interviewed him, I asked if he was single. Like most men, I had to pry it out of him that he has a girlfriend. So forget about hooking up with him this go around.

But I asked him how a lady would get his attention and he suggested, "oh, just come up close and whisper "hey baby" in my ear!"

So I did. This picture was snapped seconds later. Great guy, go see him when you get the chance!

Behind every successful marriage...

2006-09-08T13:51:00.000-07:00

Richard and Janet Cota celebrated 50 years of marriage Saturday night surrounded by friends and family at The Kendall Inn in Indianapolis. A fabulous time was had by all! I thought you might enjoy a transcript of my little tribute:

Marjie and I surprised Mom and Dad on the Fourth of July this year. We had a great visit, some real quality time together…and as usual, Mom had gone through her closet and made a pile of beautiful clothes to send along with me. I was wearing one of her outfits for the trip home when we stopped in their club for a quick bite before heading to the airport.

Mom was behind us when Marjie and I walked into the club. Several of our parents’ friends called out to Marjie, who’d been there many times, and when they saw me, they exclaimed, “Oh! You must be Jan’s sister!” It was really something when the club chef, who knows my mother well, almost followed me in to the bathroom when I failed to stop at his calling, “Jan! Jan!”
I didn’t realize he was talking to me until the door had shut behind me.

Later, in the airport, I was reaching for the soap dispenser when I caught my reflection in the mirror. Holy cow, I thought, I AM MY MOTHER.

I have decided I am one lucky woman if I can be a fraction of the woman my mother has become. In actuality, she makes me look old. She has more energy than the law should allow…her home is tasteful and immaculate...her husband is well fed and completely housebroken. She has taken that country boy and spun him into a fairly respectable, successful golfer and retiree. Somehow, in the course of fifty years, she has bewitched our father more with each day. Their love is something to celebrate indeed, and something few people get to experience. Dad always told us Mom came first with him…we kids were a distant second. Our dad is a really smart man…putting the marriage first is one of the secrets of making a union work.

Any of the Cota kids can tell you Mom and Dad made a very important deal at some point in their marriage: whoever left had to take the kids. Now we may look like an impressive bunch these days, but back then that was a viable threat. Nobody left and we got to grow up with the most amazing family two good people in love can create.

Our parents provided the kind of childhood I didn’t realize was nearly extinct: both parents living under the same roof with five quibbling siblings who were, in actuality, pretty tight. Navy bases were as safe as country roads back then and the porch light coming on was our cue to come in at night.

Growing up, our parents knew all our friends and the Cota house was always, always where we hung out. It was good to be a Cota kid.

Believe me, it still is.

Years ago I was in the hospital, the same hospital where Mom and Dad both worked. I will always remember the nurse who, after learning I was a Cota kid, came to my bedside and said, “I love your mother. She never has an unkind thing to say about anyone. We all just LOVE HER.”

I have wanted to be just like my mother ever since that day…and if that includes looking just like her, too, I’m happy to say I’m on my way.

Scott Javins is still missing...

2006-08-03T07:52:00.000-07:00

Five years ago I was walking into CVS at 9th & Poplar and immediately noticed the poster Scott Javins' parents put up when he disappeared. I remember following the stories as the search continued. I even went to meet his parents in the first few days, just to tell them I cared and would help in any way possible.

The torment they have gone through is a parent's greatest fear. The only thing you can do after this much time has passed is pray and keep looking.

Would YOU give up just because the calendar keeps moving forward? Please take a look at their new website...you never know where the next bit of information may come from...share the site with your friends and family and pray you never need one like this to find your child.

THANK YOU for caring.

diane

www.scottjavinsismissing.org

God bless those who serve

2006-07-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

Last week, another local unit left Brazil, Indiana bound for Iraq. I bid farewell to a new Marine Corps recruit the other day, headed to basic training at Camp Pendleton, California. Today I’m told another local unit already serving in Iraq has had their stay “indefinitely extended.” The news came from a distressed and worried mother:

“Well it is confirmed, and was on CNN. Our soldier Spc Tracee ______ (last name withheld) is in the __________ (unit name withheld) held over for at least four months. Prayers are needed. This is Jeanne The MOM, Diane.
Words of comfort please, our family and his friends are so worried. Thank you” Here’s what I told her…

When something happens that I don't want to happen, when I'm frustrated or out of patience, when my daughter is distressed and I’m searching for the words to help there's a prayer that always comes to mind. I receive it here every once in a while because people know I'm faithful and send prayers often.

This one is so powerful to me that it will soothe my heart and mind every time...but you have to have FAITH to feel the comfort offered within the words.

St. Theresa's Prayer
"May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts you have received, and pass on the love that
has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the
freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one."

Please trust in your faith and in the fact that so MANY AMERICANS ARE PRAYING FOR TRACEE and every other man and woman serving. I don't believe our military has ever been so staunchly supported and hope you know how much this sacrifice your family is making means to so many individuals out there who would love to hug you and thank you personally, but wouldn't know how.

I want you to know this because I take phone calls from grateful Americans almost every day. And I talk to servicemen and women who are deeply touched that for the first time in DECADES, this country's citizens truly are appreciative and aware of the sacrifices made in the name of freedom.

Think about your wonderful soldier and read that prayer again. Every word is true. He is where he is meant to be and he will be home as soon as he possibly can. What he needs (and I'm sure is getting) is a supportive family, not a wailing, worried, freaked out family. ;-) So be as strong for him as he is for you and you'll help each other through this.

Being deployed to the Middle East is, unfortunately, a common thing now. If you saw a list of names you'd probably be stunned at how many local people are, will be or have been over there. That list of willing men and women is VASTLY LARGER than the list of those who have given the ultimate sacrifice in our global war on terrorism. The media focuses on loss....I focus on SERVICE. And I pray every day for your soldier's safety on the fields of battle until he is home again and in the bosom of his family.

I think I'll share a favorite quote in closing. I don't know who wrote it, but find it comforting and inspiring:

"When we come to the edge of the light we know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, of this we can be sure - Either God will provide something solid to stand on or we will be taught to fly."

God bless those who serve.

Heroes and Humanity

2006-07-11T09:46:00.000-07:00

Drew Slater will be the first to tell you he’s no hero. At 23, he will leave soon for basic training in the United States Marine Corps in San Diego. By military standards, he’s getting up there in years. And up to now I hear he’s led a life remarkable mostly in its chain of bad choices, poor decisions and moral uncertainties. I'm not telling tales, that's just about a direct quote from Drew himself. So why choose to join the military?

Drew says, “I want them to break me…and rebuild me into a better man.” I was surprised he was aware of the psychological goals of boot camp and was still anxious to go, given how much I’d heard about the past he was trying to overcome. I would have thought such a young man would fear the discipline and authority he had mostly rejected in his civilian life. I would have been wrong.

The true measure of a man is in his actions and everything about this young man speaks to his future, not his past; from the way his arm slips almost subconsciously around his worried mother’s shoulder to the way he affectionately roughhouses with his young son. He has set perhaps the most important goal of his life and judging by his eager attitude, it doesn’t seem like he’ll have much trouble attaining it.

No, in today’s world the word “hero” is bandied about far too frequently when talking about our troops. I imagine it’s the public’s attempt to turn a brave face toward this global war on terror. Unfortunately, reality has reared its ugly head more than once under scrutiny, and some have not stood up well in the glare of its light. It doesn’t help that many media outlets turn a blind eye to the good being done in Iraq and Afghanistan in order to feed the insatiable appetite of the public.

But that won’t stop me from looking for the good stuff, whether it be a small campaign to generate school supplies for the Iraqi children one of our local units adopted or simply stopping to shake the hand of a man wearing a Vietnam Veterans hat at our annual car show. And sometimes I find the good stuff in the most unlikely of candidates, like Drew Slater, future U.S. Marine.

I’ll keep you posted.

Dating for Dummies, Part One

2006-05-24T07:33:00.000-07:00

It's been an interesting month. I've gone out on a few dates, set my bedroom on fire and let's see, what else? Oh yeah, met some of the coolest people I've met in a long time.

I decided to start dating again because I've finally grown weary of my solitary life AND because I have recently acquired a bunch of partying girlfriends. In the years since my divorce, I have come to rely on the women in my life more than I ever thought I would. They're the ones who listen when I cry, hold my hand when I don't want to be alone, back my play even when it's folly.

Here are my friends Stacey (in the white shirt beside me) and Karen behind me and Candi next to her.

We had a girls' night out at Stu's that didn't go too badly. First of all, I actually showed up, a rarity in itself. And secondly, I didn't overindulge so I had no regrets. We all gathered at IHOP for breakfast at the end of the evening, including a couple of redneck guys we'd acquired somewhere along the way. Just about the only irritating thing about the breakfast was the way guy #1, (let's call
him Bruto) kept pushing guy #2, (let's call him Stuart) on me. I was sitting right across the table from "Stuart"...I think if I found him attractive I would have picked up on it. Right? That's how dating works, doesn't it? You feel some lightning bolt strike and the next thing you know, the edges of your skin are beginning to feel the heat. Well, my side of the table was as chilly as ever. I felt a little sorry for Stuey.

Naturally, a lot of people will tell you all that stuff about lightning bolts is a bunch of hooey. Instead, you should sit online and take compatibility quizzes from all those singles sites promising to find the mate of your dreams. If you do it right, you'll be walking off into the sunset hand in hand with the afore-mentioned mate of your dreams in three days, guaranteed. I've seen women do it, so I tried that. I'm still getting junk mail from the advertisers of those sites but that's about all.

So I threw myself into the fray, so to speak, simply by finally accepting my friends' invitation to go out that Saturday night. It wasn't any different than any other night I've gone out: I had some fun with my girlfriends, but since I'm not really looking to hook up, I always end up wondering what I went out for in the first place. But it was a decent evening, a nice breakfast and I tucked myself into bed at the end of the night alone, which is exactly what I wanted to do.

The next morning I got an email from Stuart that warned me he'd be asking me out. He wrote that it probably wasn't good form to ask someone for a date via email, so he just wanted to let me know he planned to call on me. It was really kind of sweet and a little old-fashioned charming. And by golly, he did ask me to meet him at Beef O'Brady's.

Well, let me tell you, it was an unfair fight from the beginning: I walked in alone; he brought back-up. There he was at the bar with a bunch of guys from work! And there I was, standing in the doorway like a loon, trying to remember what he looked like. That's when I saw that bunch of guys sitting at the bar, backs to me, watching tv and NOT looking around for me, the lady who was right on time. So I began to wonder if this was the guy after all.

Being fairly inexperienced, I absolutely did not know what to do. This is where a really good restranteur can be a big help. One of the owners led me around to a different door so I could actually see the faces of the guys at the bar, in hopes one of them would at least look vaguely familiar. And she stood right there with me until I decided that yes, that was the guy. Women will do that for each other.

So you tell me: is it a date when the guy makes you walk in alone and he's sitting at the bar, already eating wings with the guys? That should have been clue number one.

He finally turns around, spots me and invites me to join them at the bar. Not my favorite place to get to know someone...bellying up to the bar that way. Kind of hard to make eye contact when you're all sitting in a row facing forward. I sat with them for a short time, but I was already wishing I'd stayed home when the
wingmen suddenly up and leave us alone. I don't know, up to that point, it felt like a date with an audience. Stuart says it wasn't that at all: he claims to have brought them along in case I didn't show up. Either way, I wasn't getting dinner. Men...!

Now see? I've taken so long talking nonsense I didn't even get to the fire story, or the cool new people I met in Riley with my friend Joe. Joe and I used to go to dinner together, but apparently people don't do that on dates anymore. We went to the Riley Legion where I got to see Sue Pence again and meet some really special veterans I'd like to call my friends. But if I'm gonna keep on "dating" I'm going to have to remember to eat something first! Jeez...

So I'll save the rest for my next update. In the meantime, here's another picture from our GIRLS NIGHT OUT at the Main St. bar in Jasonville. THAT was a great time, thank you Jeff! And the Awesome Possum Project! And Randy, the biker dude that took me to the Oodle Inn at Switz City for a most unexpected night time ride. Although I got in trouble for worrying my girlfriends, it was worth it to meet
Season and Shasta, MORE GIRLFRIENDS!

This is me with Rick, of the Awesome Possum Project, and his lovely wife Susan.

Oh, and sharing a couple of pictures from the big event at Casey's General Store in Robinson.

On Saturday, May 20th I got to spend the day in Robinson at Casey's General Store, where they had a fundraiser for the Navy and Marine Welfare League. The Shrine's Krazy Klowns were a very colorful part of the day, which included raising a flag that had been flown over the state capital for this day and a 21-gun salute. I got to take home one of the expelled shells from the salute.

John is one of the managers, but I knew him for years as "Sailor Joe." When he was deployed, he made many a phone call to our request lines from the deck of his ship, just to hear a voice from home.

As always, it's nice talking to you and I hope you'll revisit for silly updates or serious thoughts. I never know what might come up next.

Memorial Day, Mothers and the Military

2006-05-09T14:38:00.000-07:00

With Memorial Day looming, it would be remiss of me not to mention my beloved troops, particularly those who gave their lives in service to our country.

One of our message board members asked if there would be a Memorial Day parade this year. I had vague memories of parades past with more veterans marching than people lining the streets, so I was not hopeful that the answer was yes. Sadly, I was correct.

In all the years of this country’s history, men have worn the uniforms of the American military forces with pride and served with honor. I wonder why, with the passage of time and the way life changes, we no longer seem to be as reverent of those who served as we should be…especially those whose very lives were lost in the name of the United States of America and liberty and freedom and justice for ALL.

It could be as simple as this: ordinary citizens just don’t know what it means to serve. Some of them know better now, of course, with our current fight against terrorism, because now it’s YOUR neighbor, or YOUR son or daughter, or YOUR daddy who’s “over there somewhere” dodging bullets and bombs and not always successfully. All of a sudden, “service” has a new meaning.

In the course of my life I have been very outspoken about our troops and very consistent with my support. This did not begin with 9/11, it began the first time my daddy got on a ship and was gone for lengthy deployments; two years away from home was average, I believe. How my mother ever managed to raise five young children with her husband so far away is still a mystery to me. But my respect for her grows by the day and has since the birth of my own child, twenty years ago. I quit at one child because I knew I didn’t have the right stuff. My mother does.

And life really was different on the bases where we lived. We got our groceries at the Commissary, and they cost less than they do in your neighborhood grocery store. We bought our clothes at the PX. For entertainment, we had a skating rink and a movie theatre, and if memory serves, either one cost a quarter a kid, not a bad deal at all on a military salary.

And that base housing! They were gloomy, used-up, painted over duplexes and “dorm” style buildings that somehow my mother would turn into the most beautiful home for us. And this was after the exhaustive job of moving us in to the housing in the first place.

But there was also another difference between living on a Navy base. We took care of our own. When my mother had to take a job to make ends meet, it was another Navy wife who insisted on taking all five of us in after school, though she had five children of her own. I learned how to wolf-whistle from a neighbor boy at the age of ten. We hung out at the playground and we played the same childhood games you probably did, but in our neighborhood, the faces were always changing. If we weren’t moving to another state, our best friends were. We learned to love and let go. And one thing I’ve always found particularly unique: I don’t have a home town. I didn’t grow up in a specific place. When you move every couple of years, there are no roots to grow.

The people I comfort and support today are the families of the men and women who have been deployed from their guard or reserve unit. These families didn’t grow up on bases; they don’t know what it’s like to get along without one, and sometimes more than one, integral member of their family unit. I support my troops, but it’s usually the wives, mothers, sisters, brothers and friends who call to share their stories, their pride and sometimes their fear with me.

As an adult it’s so easy to see how growing up in the military influences how I view others. I am almost reverent to those who wear the uniform, which comes from my deep respect and awe of my amazing father.
And I respect those who stay behind and keep their homes running smoothly because of my mother’s shining example of grace under fire while my father served our country.

This Memorial Day there will be at least two ceremonies in Terre Haute to honor those we have lost. They are scheduled for 9am at Woodlawn Cemetary and 11am Highland Lawn Cemetary.

Memorial Day is not about a three-day weekend. It’s about honoring our fallen heroes. Teach your children about these soldiers. Enjoy your time off, but please remember it began as a day to honor those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in service to you and to me. And if you truly want to show them you appreciate them, be at those memorial services.

The times, they are a changing

2006-03-31T09:07:00.000-08:00

My confession for today: I don’t keep up with the news the way I ought to. I don’t even have a good reason for this as I am friends with the people who present the news on both stations in town and enjoy seeing them on my television. But when they start doing their jobs I find my mind wanders.

So a couple of weeks ago when I started getting emails from our IT guy about the time change, I just figured they were talking about Illinois, our neighbor to the west. Then the subject came up in our staff meeting last week and I realized they WERE talking about Indiana. How did I miss that?

The last I recall on the subject was a county-by-county vote and I’d thought most counties, including mine, had opted not to change the way we do time. So hearing that we need to “spring forward” in a few days was a surprise to me. However, I kept that to myself, it’s embarrassing to be that out of touch with what’s happening around me when my job is to know as much as I can for my radio show.

I did think about my sister Chris and her family, who are on vacation in Florida this week for spring break. Perhaps in the flurry of getting ready for their trip they would forget to set their clocks when they get home this weekend, so I thought I’d remind them.

Chris was as surprised as I had been to hear the news. Matter of fact, she says they were just having that discussion in the teacher’s lounge the Friday before they left and she told the others she was pretty sure we were NOT changing our time zone. This woman is an educator.

The phone calls at the station began last week and have not slowed down yet. This time change decision seems to have caught many of our citizens by surprise and nobody seems to know how that happened.

I can tell you that tomorrow (Saturday, April 1st) if you live around here you need to set your clocks ahead an hour.

I can tell you Indiana and Illinois will always be an hour apart now, which actually matters here, where we live near the state line and many people work in one state but live in the other.

Another complaint I hear is having to go to bed while it’s still light out and getting up when it’s still dark. I’m learning one should interfere with the ordinary routines of people as infrequently as possible.

Some callers are taking it in stride, but the most common emotions displayed by them are confusion and surprise.

And after all the calls and all the educating I’ve been doing this week, I still had my own personal concern when it hit me that I had BETTER get it right or I’d be late picking up Granddad for mass on Sunday morning. I can just see the poor man sitting by the door waiting for me while the hour ticked away, minute by minute. Or would I have been early if I forgot to set my clock correctly? Once I had such a personal stake in the issue you can bet I made sure I knew exactly what needed to be done.

I went down there last night and had dinner with him and made sure he knew about the time change. I was concerned about confusing him but I needn’t have worried. He had it all figured out; at the age of 92 the man still has a plan.

We’re going to mass Saturday night.

Living in the light with Granddad

2006-03-27T12:47:00.000-08:00

On Sunday mornings I go to church with my grandfather. At 92, he moves rather slowly, but his quick wit is still functioning at full capacity. I enjoy his company tremendously. Brain function notwithstanding, his advancing years allow him to sit in the front pew at mass, which carries a nice little bonus for me: it’s hard NOT to pay attention when the priest is standing right in front of us.

Father began his sermon by remarking on what a beautiful, sunny day it was. He arose that morning, threw open the curtains and rejoiced in the sunshine that’s been absent for days now. He talked about choosing to live in the light rather than the darkness. For example, we can sleep in and skip church (darkness) or we can embrace the day and our faith and attend church, thereby choosing to live in the light.

It was a pretty good sermon. And he’s right, of course. I’ve chosen the darkness for quite some time in many ways, so there was lots of food for thought in his words and I was deep in those thoughts as we made our way to the church door to leave.

Granddad and I stepped outside and were amazed to see the bright morning sun was gone, replaced by heavy cloud cover. It was almost comical how we turned to each other with the same surprised look on our face.

He spoke first. “Well look at that; where’d the sun go?”

I told him we must be so full of light after that sermon there wasn’t any left for the sky, to which he replied, in typical Granddad fashion, “Oh, you’re full of something alright.”

Obviously, he’s sharper than I thought.

Fun with babies

2006-03-10T14:15:00.000-08:00

My brother Jim’s family was in town a few weeks ago. They don’t make it this way very often because traveling with four young children just isn’t the barrel of fun you’d think it would be. But they were in town and invited me to come visit the kids at the house where they were staying, so I headed that way after work on a Saturday afternoon.

Maybe it’s just me, but I think these kids are exceptionally cute and extraordinarily interesting, so I couldn’t wait to see them.

The first to greet me was Lily, who is five years old. She threw her arms around me in a hug so passionate she nearly knocked me over. Golly, I thought, I really should come ‘round more often. Feeling pretty good about my status in their lives, I hugged her back just as fiercely and heard her whisper in my ear, “Oh, don’t go Aunt Di! At least have something to eat first!” Where’d that come from? I assured her I really had just arrived and had no intention of leaving immediately, but I have to admit, the overwhelming feeling I got was that she was URGING me to leave.

I moved on to the living room, where Jack was watching TV. He sensed an adult approaching and buried his face in the corner of the couch. Being absolutely certain he would recognize my voice, I turned on my phone camera, pointed it at his little back and said plaintively, “Why Jack Cota! You don’t want to see your Aunt Di?” and bless his little heart, the second he heard my voice he shot around with a joyous look on his face and I was able to capture the moment. The picture is priceless to me and as soon as Nextel and Sprint figure out what they’re doing with this merge I’ll be able to share the picture with you. Right now that feature isn’t working, or at least that’s what they tell me.

Then it was time for the twins, Abby and Grace. They’re moody little babies, you never know what you’re gonna get with them. I got lucky. Abby let me hold her right away. What a blessing to visit them without the rest of my family around! Nobody to compete with over who gets to hold the babies.

By the time I got to Grace I was thirsty and my hostess offered a fresh bottle of water. Grace reached for it and I did what good aunts do: gave it to her immediately. What can I say? I’m weak. Besides, it was water. It didn’t occur to me it might be a problem. But it seems with Aunt Di there’s almost always a problem of one kind or another. This time it was two-fold: I wanted a drink of my water and she wasn’t giving it back, and apparently handing her that particular item was akin to putting her back on the baby bottle. I had to hide it from her before things got ugly.

When it was time for bed, I carried Grace upstairs where her mama Char was already trying to settle Abby down for the night. We were in a darkened bedroom, slowly swaying back and forth with our babies, while Abby got increasingly fussy. Trying to help from my side of the room, I began to talk/sing to Grace and threw Abby’s name in there at the end. Abby heard her name and instantly silenced. It worked! So I took a deep breath and sing-songed a few more nonsensical things, being sure to say both their names very clearly, very often. This was actually more of a chore than this little story can convey because Aunt Di cannot sing a note to save my life and even though babies don’t care about that my thoughts were on their mama, who surely did not appreciate the sounds emanating from me.

To make matters worse, my voice was now the only thing making noise in the room and I got nervous. So now I’m crooning to them in a weird, strangled, can't-catch-my-breath kind of voice. But by golly, I kept getting those little names out there and my reward was the sudden complete relaxing of the baby in my arms. Grace had fallen asleep…! And instantly became the heaviest baby this nervously noisy aunt had ever held.

I whispered excitedly to Char, “She’s asleep!”

Char whispered back, “She always falls asleep fast. It’s Abby who’s the challenge.”

Oh. For a crazy moment there I thought I was a hero. Now I was beginning to realize I could very well be the reason the girls weren’t already down and snoring.

I stopped “singing,” carefully laid Grace in her crib and crept back down the stairs. It was a crazy, fun visit and I would see them again in the morning. We were meeting for mass at nine.

God was smiling down on me then, too. The first thing that happened after I joined them in the pew was Abby reaching her little arms out for me. I defy any other adoring aunt to pick up a baby faster than I snatched Abby from her mother that morning. I really think I set some kind of frantic, baby-grabbing record.

So we’re sitting there, everyone relatively quiet and focused on the mass; everyone but me of course. I’m flirting with Abby. We were rubbing noses when it occurred to me that I probably needed a breath mint. I reached down into my purse for one of those Ice Breakers liquid ice balls I’d picked up the night before along with some sugar free jelly beans, which Jack was happily sneaking out of my purse when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I popped the mint into my mouth when the baby wasn’t looking (remember the water bottle experience) and instantly my eyes started to water and my mouth was on fire. The almost overwhelming peppermint loaded into this teeny tiny mint just about did me in. I was barely recovering from this sensory overload when Abby turned back in my direction and smiled at me. I smiled and whispered, “Hi,” and that baby gave me the most startled look I’ve ever seen on one so young. It was so hard not to laugh out loud!! Her entire expression was of puzzlement. Where did that smell come from? Not that it’s a bad smell, just where did it come from?!

You forget so many of the precious moments when they grow up, maybe because there are so many of them.

But I don’t think I’ll ever forget Abby’s startled look when I suddenly started breathing peppermint fumes at her for no apparent reason. It was one of those times you really wished a baby could talk.

Dreams come true

2006-03-04T06:57:00.000-08:00

We were staying at a Hilton on the north side of Chicago and had just finished dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. My daughter was radiant. The devoted attention of both handsome young waiters on duty was clear testament to that. Chicago is her favorite city and she was in her element. Our dinner in the restaurant was surprisingly delicious and we had enjoyed good conversation throughout the meal.

Our plans were to hit the hot tub right away. She was already wearing her suit underneath the chic little black dress she’d worn to dinner, but I needed to go back to the room to change into mine. We’d checked out the hot tub and found it crowded with guests, so we were in no hurry to return. If we delayed a bit we might have it all to ourselves.

On our way to the elevators I heard my daughter’s little cry of surprise and I turned in time to see her drop her bags by the wall and run to a little piano sitting in one corner of the Hilton lobby. I was delighted. Any opportunity to hear her play is a gift to me. As she ran her fingers over the keys I found myself remembering what I’d told her when she first started taking lessons at the age of six.

I’d said if she didn’t like playing piano we’d look at other avenues for artistic expression, but she loved the piano from the start. I remember telling her that someday she would be able to walk into a party where a piano happened to be and just blow her friends away, playing the way she did. It was one of those little dreams a mother has…for her to stick with it long enough to be good enough to enchant people when she played. For her to see how talented she is and how unique her talent, was my mother’s dream.

I’ve always been fascinated by those who could play an instrument and admire the determination and skill it takes to be good at it. As it turns out, my daughter was really good at it. And when she plays, people are enchanted indeed.

As she played in that lobby the other night I leaned against a wall and took it all in. Christine is a classical pianist. She is fiercely devoted to her piano teacher, who became a sort of surrogate mother/counselor to her during our divorce. And music was her therapy. To this day, all the turbulent and tranquil emotions of those difficult years pour through her fingers into the keys when she plays and anyone listening can feel her delicate, heartfelt interpretation in their soul.

As the notes of a Beethoven piece began to drift through the air I couldn’t help but peek around the lobby to see if anyone else could hear the magic. Everyone could. There were the two young waiters from the restaurant, making excuses to walk through in order to see who was making that beautiful noise. To see their curiosity turn to surprise and delight was my dream-come-true moment. If she had seen their faces, no doubt the whole thing would have fallen apart in self-consciousness, but she didn’t see and she played on.

The desk clerks left the desk to look around the corner.
I saw a couple of guests pause on their way to the elevators, listening to the complicated music emanating from our formerly silent corner of the lobby before moving on.
Three nicely-dressed businesspeople had been strolling toward the hotel’s back entrance when my daughter sat down to play. They stopped short of the door, though; the two ladies appeared to admiring the art on the hotel walls while the gentleman leaned against the wall, his eyes half-closed, listening raptly to my daughter’s music.

As the final notes of Mozart’s “Pathetique Sonata” were quietly laid down, this small audience began to applaud. Christine turned around, startled to find them there. She collected her belongings while I collected compliments. It wasn’t until later that I realized one of my little mother’s dreams had just come true for my daughter. She had enchanted strangers with her musical soul and in return they had fed that very soul with appreciation for the music she loves so much and plays so well.

I move forward with a slightly different determination myself after that evening. I move through life with the certainty that sometimes dreams do indeed come true, and when they do, life is sweet.

There are no words

2006-02-28T07:10:00.000-08:00

Last week in the life of my family the unspeakable happened: we lost a child.

When someone dies in the waning years of a natural life, we mourn and move on. For those who grieve, moving on is the only thing to be done. What can one do otherwise, stand still…?

But we move on to different effect depending on our relationship to the deceased. If it was a close friend or relative, our journey for the rest of our life is forever altered. I’ll always remember talking to my father-in-law Paul after his mother died. Although he had outlived is father and several siblings, for him it was the loss of his last remaining parent that set him temporarily adrift in his world. He told me, eyes brimming with tears, that for the first time in his life he was truly alone in the world.

Of course he was not. He was surrounded by his own children and their children and even great-grandchildren. And he knew that, but in his heart there was a place where life was different now and in that place he was alone.

My Grandad is still with us but when my other grandparents passed away, the family gathered together from all the places we have scattered on this earth and we bid them farewell. If you laid our emotions on a scale, the celebration of their lives would outweigh the tears for their loss. It was at these funerals I learned how amazingly faith bridges the chasm between life and death.

Last week we lost our young teenager in a tragic accident at a snowy recreational park in Montana. The shock and sorrow have been unbearable, but we somehow move numbly through our days and reach out to her family in every way we know or can. And we hold our own children a little too tightly and hug them a little too fiercely and we pray and we pray and we pray.

But there are no words. This conversation I have had with my sisters. Marjie told me of her struggle to find the right card, standing there in the sympathy aisle, getting angry at inscriptions that might have served to soothe in other circumstances but were woefully insufficient for this, and finally settling on the one that said “…there are no words.”

I looked down at the card in my own hands, which I was signing when she called. “There are no words” is what it said.

A week has passed and we have shared phone calls and emails and fears and memories and prayers. We do what we can to cope in our own way with the knowledge of what has happened and the deep sorrow we feel for this precious branch of our family.

So when the weekend came, my daughter and I got in the car and drove four hours north to her favorite city and the one I fear the most: Chicago. I drove through that crazy, intimidating maze of traffic and skyscrapers and lakeshore because on the other side was the newest member of our family, and we were coming to meet him.

He’s perfect. I held him almost every single minute we were there and he laid in my arms completely content, a dream-come-true baby. And as I held him and watched his tiny chest rise and fall I began to feel that amazing flow of emotions babies seem to transmit to us: joy, hope, gratitude, awe, love.

But I didn’t say a word because in times like this, there are no words.

Of this we can be sure...

2006-02-18T15:00:00.000-08:00

Really, the very first thing I remember about Judy is the way she said good-bye on the phone. Her sweet, light voice became even sweeter, a lilting “bye-bye!” that was almost as precious as a baby’s cooing tones. When Judy said bye-bye she always left me smiling.

She called the station fairly often to have me “pronounce” a birthday. Judy must have kept her church newsletter each week, and if there was a parishioner celebrating, Judy would be sure to let us know about it. And if it was a name she herself had difficulty pronouncing, she would spell it for me. The conversation would go something like this:

Judy: Oh, h-h-hello Diane. Can you pronounce a birfday for me?

Me: Sure Judy, who’s birthday is it?

Judy: Uh, it’s uh…Ma-ma-mawee Ju-Ju-Ju—I’ll spell the last name okay? It’s uh, uh, J….O…uh, uh, N….E…..S.

Me: Mary Jones, okay. And how old is Mary today?

Judy: She’s uh, 64. Yes. 64. She goes to my church, she does.

Me: Your church is lucky to have you to keep track of all these birthdays, you know! Thank you Judy!

Judy: (giggles self-consciously) Okay Diane. Bye-bye!

And there it was, that innocent, sweet send off.

I remember Judy from high school, actually. She was in the special education classes so our paths only crossed in the hallways, but I remember her. And now somehow, all these years later, we have connected again, more personally these days.

Judy would always call me on her birthday too, to tell me all about the presents she got. New slippers, a little trinket, one year a puppy! Something went wrong there though, and she didn’t get to keep the puppy very long. I remember how sad that made her. I also remember how pleased she was with the very modest gifts she would receive from her caseworker, or her brothers, and the child-like enthusiasm with which she would describe her gifts to me.

She had some kind of problem with her leg and began seeing a new doctor, I’m thinking a kind young doctor, because, oh my, did she get excited about seeing him! She would call and tell me her doctor flirted with her and repeat their conversation word-for-word. His sweetness brought so much joy to this lady. I wonder if he even knows that?

And every once in a while in the ten years we’ve been sharing these calls, Judy would be looking forward to a weekend date. She told me she had a boyfriend a couple of times and excitedly recounted their Saturday night dance or something special he said to her. Those times didn’t last long, but the joy in her voice sure seemed to make it worthwhile when it did.

A few weeks ago, there was some trouble with her leg again and she called to tell me she was having a hard time. She couldn’t quite explain the trouble but assured me she was getting good medical care.

Just days after that chat, her brother Jim called to tell me they’d put Judy in a rehabilitation/nursing care facility. He gave me the name of the place she was now residing and told me hesitantly that she’d sure love to hear from me.

I called her that afternoon but there was some difficulty getting her to the phone or the phone to her. As luck would have it, I'd picked the wrong time to make the call. I would try again later.

Two days later Jim called to tell me Judy had died.

I was stunned. Died? I thought she just had something wrong with her leg! Obviously it had been much more serious than that and I am so sorry I didn’t get to see or talk to her one last time.

Judy Pearman was a very special lady and I’m proud to have called her my friend. The speed with which she departed this earth has left me with my own fragile emotions. Deep regret for not being more persistent the day I wanted to talk to her on the phone, for not taking time to get down there and see her, keep her company, let her know I really did care.

But the nice thing about life is the second chances we DO get. I may have missed my opportunity to say good-bye to Judy, but my Granddad is still here and I bet he’d enjoy a visit from me. I’ve let two weeks slip by since I last visited him. A LOT can happen in two weeks, as I've just learned the hard way.

Oh, and since I believe in angels, this is for you, Judy.

When we come to the edge of the light we know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, of this we can be sure - Either God will provide something solid to stand on or we will be taught to fly.

Godspeed, sweet girl. Bye-bye.

2006-02-14T08:35:00.000-08:00

It had been a long day and she was finally heading home when she realized she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and if she went straight home, she wouldn’t eat again until tomorrow, so she pulled into the first place she passed on the way, thinking she would just buy a little something to ease her hunger pangs.

She’d learned a lot about hunger in the last few years. She’d learned that water really can fill an empty stomach enough to allow sleep, and that ramen noodles go a long way when you’re down to your last dollar. But eventually a person has to eat and tonight she was hungry.

She was between paydays and as she counted out the remaining change in her purse she slowly realized she didn’t have enough to get anything on the menu. Why didn’t she use a little more precious gas to get herself to a place with a 99-cent menu??

“May I help you?” came the bright voice across the counter. She looked up at the girl and admitted with embarrassment she only had three dollars and fifty-eight cents. Could she get anything with that?

The girl hesitated, glancing over the keys of her cash register, then excused herself and walked to the back. While she was gone, the woman counted out her change again, willing another quarter or two to appear, but the number was still the same: $ 3.58.

When she looked up again, the manager was standing before her with a smile on her face. “What would you like to eat this evening?” she asked. The woman started to explain that she had limited funds but was cut off by the manager, who again smiled, looked into her eyes and asked again, “What would you LIKE to have?”

The woman glanced at the menu for the lowest-priced item and said in a shaky voice, “Fish, please.” The manager smiled broadly and asked, “Would you like some shrimp with that?” The woman shook her head but the manager threw in several hot, fresh shrimp before closing the box and handing it across the counter to the woman, who by now was quietly crying.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and the manager smiled across the counter. The look in her eyes said she’d been there too once. Those moments passed in a blur as she watched the manager pay for her meal, pressing her last few dollars back into her hand.

When she slipped into the driver’s seat, the woman began to cry in earnest, not because she was hungry, but because she had just experienced the touch of human kindness, and the sweetness of it was almost unbearable.

As she headed home with a warm meal on the seat beside her she realized what that manager had really given her. It wasn’t just a meal, it wasn’t just the incredibly kind gesture from a stranger; it was hope.

And with hope, all things are possible.

2006-01-25T07:58:00.000-08:00

012506

Happy Birthday to my mom! The following in no way represents you, Mother. As usual, it’s all about me. ;-)

When did that happen??

I find it vexing that the onset of wisdom collided almost precisely to the minute with the reverse of my body’s gravitational direction. I thought I understood the aging process pretty well, but I expected it to happen gradually. Instead, it seems like just last week I was feeling pretty svelte and just last night when I rolled over in bed, different parts of my body actually shifted separately.

It was a little scary. Matter of fact, it was unsettling enough to get me out of bed to write this at four a.m.

And now that I’m up I might as well go to the bathroom. It’s a preventative thing. Even if I don’t actually need to go now it just might save me a trip later.

I love to sleep, but my uninterrupted eight-hour nights are over forever, that much has become clear. Since these nocturnal visits (yes, that’s PLURAL) began rather gradually I won’t complain too bitterly about that.

But age spots? What an insult. I’m not old! Nonetheless, these last few months my skin has been turning on me. And we all know the skin is the body’s largest organ. Imagine my consternation over my ample bosom. The relentless plunge toward my knees is bad enough…do I have to worry about them turning color and texture too??

And here’s irony for you: on my very recent 47th birthday I arose to find a huge blemish on my cheek, right under my left eye. Three weeks later it’s just now beginning to subside. I tried to attack it only to find that my facial skin has turned to paper. It looked like someone had smacked me in the face for days. I know, because I visited my 90-something grandfather who asked me who hit me.

Now there’s a benefit of age. The older you get, the more acceptable it is to speak your mind. I kind of wish he’d quit introducing me to the other residents of his retirement home as “blabber mouth” though.

But seriously, acne at my age is ridiculous. Pimples should not erupt in skin that’s too old to squeeze, that’s just not right. I went from break out to break down with no clear sailing in between.

Of course my eyesight is going, so I have a pair of reading glasses. I hardly ever need them, but the last time I had them on was apparently the first time I’d seen my own hands in quite some time because they were covered in someone else’s wrinkles. I was appalled. And I promptly did something about that. I’ve stopped wearing those glasses. I didn’t really enjoy reading all that much anyway.

I guess.

What was I talking about anyway? I lost my train of thought.

But that’s a whole ‘nother story.