Indigineous Canadian Talent - Stompin' Tom, Rita and Men of the Deeps, for Starters

The passing of Stompin' Tom Connors recently just reminded me of the truly great indigenous talent of so many Canadians. 

When I came to Texas in 1996, I realized how prominent Canadians really were in entertainment. But I want to tell you about  some truly great Canadians you may not know.

Rita MacNeil lived on Cape Breton Island. After she divorced, she went to Toronto where she cleaned offices. All her life, Rita wrote songs about her beloved Island and its people. Here is her version of Working Man which she wrote about the coal miners  of Cape Breton. My brother-in-law, Sen White, is a member of Men of the Deeps, a chorus of retired coal miners. You can listen to them performing with Rita on this song she wrote:

Stompin' Tom Connors came by his name honestly when owners of clubs where he sang started having to put extra boards where he would be singing because his heavy foot stomping wrecked their floors. Stompin' Tom was not so different from Rita in that he wrote about places and activities he knew.

The video I have chosen was taken at the Horseshoe Tavern which is on Queen Street in downtown Toronto.

The song I chose is "Sudbury Saturday Night".  Sudbury is about 230 miles north of Toronto and there is a nickel mine there so it is a typical working class city. This was perfect for Stompin' Tom who loved to write about the working man. Oh, yes, you heard it right, "The girls are playing bingo and the men are getting stinko . . ."

While large in land area, Canada has a population of only 34,000,000 people. Ninety percent of the population lives within 100 miles of the border with United States. In places like the Maritimes (Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and New Brunswick), Northern Ontario and many of the places you see when you look on a Canadian map that are a little more isolated than places near the U.S. border, people are very good at entertaining themselves and their friends. 

Enjoy what was originally to entertain their friends at home parties . . . 

Smiling From Greer To Greer!

smile!, a photo by seanbjack on Flickr.

When I was a child back in Toronto, I inherited my Father's crooked teeth and my Mother soft teeth . . . soft, crooked teeth. I had to have lots of fillings.

My dentist was Dr. Greer on Eglinton Avenue by the Theater and you had to climb a l-o-n-g flight of stairs to get up to his office.

Dr. Greer's main eccentricity was having me memorize bible verses . . . which actually may not have been a bad thing.

Dr. Greer's two elder daughters baby sat me and one of them became a dentist who practiced up in Muskoka (cottage country).

One of the younger children, about my age also became a dentist: Dr. Bill Greer.

When I came to Texas, I found a wonderful and kind dentist, named Dr. Ralph Rose who by then had more than his work cut out for him. About 25 years ago, a fall had caused me to lose several front teeth and Dr. Rose was able to make something permanent for me that has worked very well.

At Christmas this year, I started to have some terrible pain and when he came back from his Colorado vacation, Dr. Rose came into his office to assess just what had gone wrong.

Long story short, tooth roots go up into the sinus area.

Further long story short, Dr. Rose sent me to a dentist who specializes in fixing this.

His name . . . Dr. Bill Greer! No relation: from East Texas, but still what a coincidence.

Dr. Greer has a staff who have been with him a long time and I found myself very comfortable.

So, I was there today for what we hope will be my final surgery and it is still swollen.

But you know - for 1,600 miles from Toronto, I thought that was a pretty good coincidence!

Facebook Page For Aiden (80) - Have You LIKED it?

Rainbow, a photo by Earl Reinink on Flickr.

A few weeks ago, a college student who sings with me in our church choir asked me to add a 6-year-old boy named Aiden (nick-named "80") to the Prayer Journal that Hubby and I keep. This Saturday, she went to be tested to be a Bone Marrow Donor for this same boy at a gathering near us. There will be more chances to be tested to donate.  Aiden's Mother is a friend of another of my friends from church, worked with her and lived in the next town.

There is a very nice Facebook Page for Aiden. ONE LOVE FOR 80. 

Today, 80 is asking his Mother how many people are following his page. 

TODAY, I POSTED THIS ON MY SITE. PLEASE READ THIS WHETHER YOU ARE ON FACEBOOK OR NOT. (BET YOU ARE!)

HELLO TO MY FB FRIENDS FROM CANADA, UNITED STATES, LATIN AMERICA - DOG FRIENDS, ALL FRIENDS!

Since I have FB Friends in many different places, please take time to read about this little boy here in Texas (whose mother is from the next town). 80 is asking how many friends he has on his page and myself, I have been wondering why it has not grown more. 80 will not only steal your heart with his wisdom well beyond his years . . . you will definitely fall in love with him.

ONE LOVE FOR 80 is a Facebook Page for a boy named Aiden (nicknamed 80) who is six years old and in need of a Bone Marrow donor. I hope I have this correct. We have him in our prayer journal and have been praying for him every day.

Let's see how MUCH love we can summon up for this child. . . and May God Bless You!

Why Is Death So Sad?

Nativity Angel, a photo by traqair57 on Flickr.

In the past year we have lost my stepson and my husband's dear friend.

These are fresh and we are still hurting.

Seems like I have "lived" with death ever since I was a little girl and my Aunt Josie and then Uncle Lorne died. My Mother was especially sad and children take quite a lot from the adults around them.

Death is not a happy time; that is a given. But how many times is someone so very sick that you really cannot wish them to keep on living in this state of illness.

I am pretty ordinary - I am probably a lot like you and all your friends. But you know, today I was talking to my sister-in-law - a great gal who I dearly love and she was talking about someone dying.

Out of the blue (as we humans say), I said,

"You know, if we really are Christians - like we say we are - why does death make us so sad?"

(I had two children who died - you already know this - but even though they seemed to never have even had a chance, I cannot wish them to be alive because they were both very unwell children.)

My husband's friend was sick for a month and we visited him and saw for ourselves how truly sick he was. I cannot wish that man be alive and be so sick. So we think about the good times and we try to help his family to adapt to life without him.

When someone is suffering and perhaps cannot recognize everyone; when he cannot enjoy chatting to friends; when he (or she) cannot go to church; eat dinner with friends; chat with loved ones; hold their spouse in their arms . . . should we really wish they would continue in this world?

So, perhaps if we are honest with ourselves, the real difficulty is that now we must live - go on, as it were - without that person. 

At the bottom, I have placed some verses we all have heard many times. I hope it helps us to understand what we (as Christians) have always known.

We who are left behind must adapt to different lives - lives without the loved one who has gone. But we should not be afraid - either for our loved ones or for ourselves. We have learned since we were children, that Our Heavenly Father has prepared a place for us that will be like none other.

May God bless you and may God bless all who have lost loved ones and help us to continue here on earth until our time has come. While we are here, we can help others to adapt to their loses.

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” - Matthew 19:14.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also." - John 14:1 - 3.

But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.” 2 Samuel 12:23

So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.  2 Corinthians 5:6-8 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:4

Cemeteries . . . Memorials . . . Death

This week it was 42 years since my daughter, Carrie Jane, went to be with Jesus. Her final resting place is at the head of the grave of my father who died on my 22nd birthday. I miss being able to drive through this very special cemetery where I used to go to church with my grandmother. St. Phillips is a beautiful old Anglican (Church of England - Protestant) Church in Weston, Ontario in West Toronto. The graveyard is remarkable because there are so many interesting tombstones and the front, where my family's tombstone faces is on a busy street.

When my father was so very sick, he told my mother he wanted to be buried at St.Phillips - not "Wind Blown Acres". This was a reference to a beautiful cemetery at Alliston, Ontario where my mother's family was buried. When she was very young, her family used to take a picnic lunch to eat there after church on Sunday. It wasn't far from where she was raised on a farm in Innisfil (Barrie), Ontario, Canada. But her parents died within 6 weeks of each other when she was 14 and she moved to Toronto where she lived with her brother and sister-in-law. 

Mother was the youngest. Her father was married to Carrie and they had three children: two boys and a girl who died at about age 8. His wife, Carrie died in the dentist chair. (I have to assume that this accounts for my inborn fear of dental work. Hearing about that so many times would do that!) He then married her sister, Abigail and they together had two boys and a girl, my mother. Yes, that makes me the youngest of the youngest.

This past week, my husband's good friend also died. We had been to see Bill several times while he was in hospital and he was so very sick . . . 

There are some differences in visitations and funerals here in Texas. Some of it might be the time/generation and some of it would be Texan as compared to Canadian. (I know, I know, but you see the commercial all the time that Texas is a "Whole Other Country".)

We used to have more visitation time and less funerals were held in churches in Toronto. 

I want to tell you that the blog I posted over a year ago on The Funeral That Was a Gift still gets the most readers to this site. That funeral (or more precisely memorial) was the most joyous. That man knew he was dying and he gave all of us who attended the wonderful gift of his music.

Probably because I have had so many people die - or maybe because I am getting old - hard to say, but I am always interested in just how a funeral comes together. 

The biggest visitation I have probably seen was the one for my father-in-law, J.D. (Dee) Sutton who died - in his recliner, devotion bible in his hand - at age 94, less than a year into my marriage to Keith. Pretty much everyone in Robinson, Illinois came that night and we shook hands with so many people with so many fond memories of the man everyone in that town knew. 

The saddest funeral was for my Carrie Jane. It was a tiny white casket like the one described for the victims of Sandy Hook Elementary. It was February cold and only the very best of friends and relatives were there. I still think about that being one of the grimmest days in their lives as well as mine. (Carrie Jane was seven and a half months. She had been born microcephalic which means her brain stopped growing very early in the pregnancy. She was my second microcephalic child. The doctor telling me that no family has two children afflicted this way did not take away the pain.)

I once saw comedian and all-round humanitarian, Bill Cosby at the then O'Keefe Theater in Toronto. He did his irreverent stand-up of how he would have a recording in his casket, saying, "Don't I look nice?" Bill Cosby may be responsible - more than he knows - for cremations and closed caskets. 

In Toronto, we had Jewish neighbours and my Father had many Jewish friends from business. You may know that Jewish people bury before the next sundown. I suspect that is why they never came up to the casket, so the family had to go down to greet them and thank them for their condolences.

Funerals tend to teach you about people. We learn that most people are very glad that others would come to support them, give them a hug and say how sorry they are. We know that some people stay away - probably because of their fears about their own mortality. We learn that in our worst hour, some very fine people "step up to the plate" to help in whatever way they can.

Some bake cookies and cakes; some bring whole meals; some help with a eulogy, bearing the casket. Some people just show up. They don't have to be asked. Some come to give a hug and just exit the side door. 

Each of us probably has our own interpretation of what happens after we die. There are two books - one about a middle-aged man and one of a child - who were clinically dead and came back to tell what they had seen. Since they were both Christians, they saw the face of Jesus. Better than that . . . they are able to relay that to other Christians. 

The topic here is how we celebrate the life of a person and how do we comfort those left behind? Everybody does it differently and that is a beauty of this world where we live . . . for now.

   For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. 

John 3:16  New International Version (NIV)

[People who read me on a regular basis might be interested to know that my first published article was in a Dog Magazine about a man who was killed on the way to a dog show in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. And the same person who encouraged me to submit that gave the Eulogy at my late husband's funeral. Some people are in your life for a reason.]

Another Child At Church . . .

http://youtu.be/5wRsW9Bw8P0


This morning at Church a sweet baby girl named Lexi (Alexis) was baptized. Her Grandmother just happens to sit next to me in the second soprano section of the Adult Choir. 

I knew she was going to sing a solo today, but when I saw her folder, I had to ask about it. You see, it was an old folder with yellowed pages. 

She told me her grandfather was the first one to sing it after Robert McGimsey composed it. 

It seems that Robert McGimsey was walking home from a midnight church service in New York City in 1932. He heard raucous noise coming from various bars as he made his way back to his small apartment. He was inspired to write this hymn or, because it is appropriate to Christmas, carol. 

My friend's granddaughter was so sweet in her beautiful white gown and she did not even make a sound when our minister took her and walked down and back up the church aisle. 

Her brother, who I think is a little more than three was on his best behavior too as his grandfather flashed away to capture such a precious moment. 

From where I sit up in the choir loft, I couldn't see "Lexi's" parents very well but I know it was a proud moment for them. 

(My friend has been attending our church since she was a little girl and knows all the people and all the tasks there are in a church. Best of all, this year, she cooked several turkeys to go out to shut-ins tomorrow morning.)

Again today, the focus of Christmas was on little children and what a blessing they are to us all, especially at Christmas. 

Silent Night; Holy Night . . .

"Whatcha Doing?", a photo by d_wooden on Flickr.

Last year about this time, I posted a blog, about this same subject of looking out into the Church Congregation and seeing children singing along with the carols. In light of how close it is to Christmas and also the terrible tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, it is time to talk about little children again. 

Same carol as last year, about the same spot in church. Up in the Choir Loft, I can see these little children singing along. They all know Silent Night. They put their young elbows up on the pew - just like this girl has hers - and they sing right along. They all know the words to Silent Night. 

For 20 children, it was a very silent night and they met the man they have all learned about in Sunday School. If you believe, and so many of us do, all these children met Jesus last Friday. 

Suffer the little children to come unto me. . . 

Jesus loves the little children . . . 

One family went into see their little girl in her white casket and they took many colors of Sharpie pens with them. They drew colorful objects on that casket . . . butterflies and balloons and things their little girl liked.

Another family ordered many birds fashioned as brooches for people to wear at the funeral for their child who loved birds. 

I remember only too well the tiny white casket and I still think how awful it was not just for her father and me when Carrie Jane died, but for all our friends who came to be with us at her funeral. 

There is nothing so somber, so sad, so unfair, so bad . . . as losing a child. 

I lost a boy, Robbie at three and a half weeks and a girl, Carrie Jane, at six months. Both were born micro-cephalic which means their brains stopped developing at about three months into the pregnancy.

I recall the minister saying, "We do not know if she suffered." 

"Suffer" has two meanings at least. Last week's children probably did not feel pain because it likely was very quick. But perhaps they felt fear and panic.

The other suffer we know is when Jesus said one of the first things a child learns in Sunday School:

"Suffer the little children to come unto me." That takes the meaning of "allow" or "let". 

Little children are innocent and sweet. There is no pain like the death of a child. 

I still feel that pain today; it has never gone away. I feel the pain of all those parents in that community. 

God be with all the parents, grandparents, siblings and all the people who try to comfort each other. 

Lord, thank you for letting me, a humble soprano, look out each year to see beautiful children singing along with our so special Christmas carols. And, Lord, please take care of not just my children but all the children taken so young. 

Lord, please be with all the parents - all those left behind. 

And Lord . . . I know after all those years that there is no answer to the question, "Why?"

Hello Again From East Texas . . .

A soldier and his dog, a photo by bandstalker on Flickr.

For about four years now, we have been sending a letter each month to update our Troops who are serving our country. A letter goes into each box that is sent. The boxes contain various items that Troops can really use including toiletries, playing cards, cookies, canned goods and other requested items.

This week, we were told there are only 15 boxes going next month.

So, for four years, I have started each letter with,

"Hello Again From East Texas" and have signed it with "Blessings from The Suttons".

What did I write about? Well, I tried to look ahead because the letter would be received in about 3 to 4 weeks from when I took it to the Legion where they packed the boxes. I told them a little about what was happening back home and how everyone was missing them. Because I am keen on dogs, I envisioned that many of these people had left in addition to family, a dog behind.

So, I put comic strips across the top and bottom. Always, there was a Mutts strip and often Red and Rover. Sometimes there was a picture of our dog, Buddy.

So, even though there are just a few men and women still deployed from our area, I did that letter today and we took it to where they assemble the boxes.

Once, they were advised that some British soldiers were with our Troops and we were asked to find some English items. They told me because we Canadians should know approximately what an Englishman might like. I cannot remember exactly what we found - Peak Freen cookies, and Coleman dried mustard - I recall those.

At Christmas and New Years, we inserted the words to songs they would all remember . . . Blue Christmas (Elvis) and some others they would all know.

I am writing this blog today because even though I am glad our Troops are almost all home, I am a little sad.

I think we are generally sad when a routine comes to an end.

Many times, a note has been forwarded to us where a soldier has mentioned "The Suttons" letter. Sometimes, we have been invited to go over for a visit when a Soldier was on leave. Their families were with them and it was not unusual to see a father in the hall crying.

So, this is just about over, writing these Troop Letters each month. It is super everybody will be home, and we hope they adjust well to being back here. But it is a little sad to be finished that project.

God Bless Our Troops and God Bless America!

I Voted. Have you? Did You Remember It's A Secret Ballot?

I Voted. Have you?, a photo by Rocks In Her Head on Flickr.

Well, Election Day is just about here. Yes, I have voted. I voted last week. If you have not yet voted, make sure you know where you have to go and check the sample ballot in your newspaper. Then get out and vote!

I think it is supposed to be a secret ballot but you would never know it from all the comments - particularly on Facebook. 

I am a dual citizen - Canadian and American. I worked hard to get that status and am proud of it. 

Facebook: what can we say about Facebook that we do not already know? People make all manner of comments and many of them can be hurtful. 

I like Facebook because it lets me keep in touch with people in the Dog Fancy, my Canadian friends and the few relatives I still have. I can see pictures of my favorite children just about every day and see how they are growing and changing. I can get news feed and weather very current. 

I can repost lost dogs and help them get back home. I can help shelter dogs find wonderful new homes. I have one friend who drove 40 miles to pick-up a dog called Gypsy and give her a great new home.  I have met Gypsy and she is my friend too . . . of course, I did take her a box of Milkbone biscuits. 

I have seen a lot of posts . . . some of them factual, some just plain rotten . . . about this election. 

So, that is Freedom of Speech . . . or is it inconsiderate, rude, ugly?

Please do vote. That is your RIGHT! It is also your right to vote for whomever you please. Yes, please do vote!

. . . and please vote for whomever you wish. 

And . . . remember, if you invite me over to see your new dog, I will probably bring a box of treats for him or her. 

Yes. Yes. The dog part of this blog is not related to the Election. Think about it. Your dog just plain loves you. He may even love me. Dogs do not vote. That might be a shame because they would be a little kinder about it . . .

Let Me Hear It One More Time

DSCN0928, a photo by lrslocum on Flickr.

Jesus loves the little children, All the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, All are precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world. 

Many of us learned this hymn when we were little children so it is familiar to most of us. Last week and today, we sang this hymn in church and I want to tell you the response. I get to see the entire congregation since I am in the Choir and sit up in the Loft facing them. Everyone joined in in this wonderful and familiar hymn. I think most of them thought about how long they had known this hymn! One couple were arm in arm and swaying to and fro as they sang it. 

With so many new things and so much change, how good does it feel to have something stay the same? I have never intended this to be a religious blog but Christianity is an integral part of my life. Some of you may not be of the Christian faith, but I bet you like a certain sameness in your life. 

When I go to my hometown, Toronto, I like to drive past the house I lived in when I was growing up and my school. Toronto is a very large city and not too much stays the same so I am always happy to see something that is very much like it was when I was a child. There is a certain feeling of security and comfort when we something or hear something we have known most of our lives.

Technology seemingly re-invents itself every few months. We just learn one way of doing something online or how to work a cell phone or computerized tablet, when a "new improved" one is invented. 

Hubby and I often think of old songs or someone who may have been famous many years ago and we enjoy reminiscing. I think all older people probably feel that way. We like the new technology that helps us do things more efficiently, but we also like the old memories that make us feel very warm inside.

One Down . . . One To Go: Surrounded by Kindness!

My right eye surgery took longer to heal than expected. I was in the supermarket and my eye doctor was there. He asked how I was doing and then went to his car for a prescription pad to write me two prescriptions to help me along. When I saw him this week, he said I am ready to have the other eye's cataract removed. We made the appointment which will be in about 10 days. How special was that for him to stop in the middle of shopping to prescribe some medicine for me?

Last Sunday, I could not see well enough to sing in the Choir. After church, several people came up to us and hugged us and asked how my eye was doing. That was special.

My neighbor's two little girls came with some wild flowers which we put in a vase. They lasted all week and were yet another reminder of people's kindness. 

Now, of course, I cannot yet see as well as I will when I have new lenses in my glasses, but at least I feel I am on my way to seeing a whole lot better. 

I will still have astigmatism but that is not a problem. We first caught that when I was taking piano lessons back when I was about six or seven. Mother heard the teacher yelling and came to see what was wrong. What was wrong was that I could not see the notes!

So, even though I cannot see really well yet, it is encouraging that so many people are with me all the way through just another of life's ordeals. Blessings to all!

Some Thoughts Before . . .

Tomorrow I will be having eye surgery on my right eye. Probably because we have had so many life-changing events over the past four months, I thought about the "what if".

I don't really live that way now that I am older. I have a great Hubby, great Church, a few great friends and, of course, a wonderful dog! I am blessed.

The other day, my Nova Scotia sister-in-law posted some fall pictures and so, today I thought about showing you what is probably THE most beautiful sight healthy eyes can see . . . as far as scenery goes. I took this five years ago when we were there in autumn. When you have the opportunity: go to Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia.

Yesterday I was Liturgist at Church . . . and lots of people helped me up and down the steps. (Yup, don't walk as well as I used to.) I did fine. No, I don't have a photo to show you, but I can picture in my mind very easily some people who came to church on a rainy day . . . not because I was helping but because they hadn't been there in a while. That was really a blessing! (Kinda funny: it rained the last time I was Litergist!)

I am thinking about Tom Darr . . . who drove Hubby over to have cataract surgery and how they stopped on the way back to have breakfast. He and Liz are in Pennsylvania now, but through Facebook, I can keep in touch.

I am thinking about my precious Shih Tzu, Fanny, who lost an eye. She never gave up and a very fond memory is of her modelling a T-Shirt at the Toronto Sportsman Show, oh, probably 25 years ago. Her shirt said (yes, yes, to all my teachers . . . a talking T-shirt), "FOUR ON THE FLOOR"! She walked out fine with her good eye toward the audience, enjoying the attention. I held her up so all could see her shirt and everyone was clapping and laughing. Fanny loved that! When we started to walk back, she balked . . . because she could not see the crowd. From the wings, the Editor of Dogs in Canada was calling to me, "Pick Her Up!"

Gotta love precious memories and I have so many. If you really think about it, you have some great memories too! You just don't realize what an interesting life you have . . .

With a little help ...

with a little help ..., a photo by tadelloeser  on Flickr.

The concept of reaching out to help others is as old as time
itself. There is nothing modern or updated . . . no app for that!

When we help others, we always help ourselves. Especially when nothing is said and perhaps the person does not even know where the help was from, well, that is so good!

If you carefully look around you, you will be pleasantly surprised
at how many people are actually reaching out to others in their
times of need.

Sometimes, it is a prayer - simple though it sounds - those who
believe in prayer know how much it works.

Sometimes, it is an outstretched arm to help someone up
a step. Sometimes, it might be a ride or a handful of flowers or a smile. Perhaps it is a telephone call to check on how someone is feeling.

Let people know you care; let them know you missed them at a meeting or at church.

When we think outside ourselves, we help ourselves; we grow. We are happier for having put our daily problems aside and reaching out. to lift up someone else.

And one day, when you need it most - someone will be there for you . . . to lift you up . . . just when you need a little help.

9/11 - We Must Never Forget.

9/11, a photo by scamp* on Flickr.

We must never forget.


I've told you before so the message is the same. We must never forget that horrible day - September 11, 2001. If you go down my blogs, you will find our story. Every person has a story of where they were and what they were doing on that day.

Peter Jennings sat at the ABC News Desk all day and into the night. His children called him and he wept. He also began to smoke again and we presume that led to his early demise.

Hubby and I were on our way to his college reunion at Rose-Hulman in Terre Haute, Indiana.

I grew up with the mentality that if a bomb were to strike or there was any serious trouble, we would get in our car and drive north. But that was in Toronto, not East Texas. It is a very long drive from East Texas to remote Northern Ontario. That is what was in my mind as I went to get my passport. We started our drive and there would be an overnight stop.

When I talked to our neighbor, she told me that we should be very alert to everything around us. We were.

Her daughter, a broadcaster, called and asked me if we were able to get gas. The answer was "yes" - at some places and after waiting in long lines. We did not let the tank get very low.

I called to "Dear Old Rose" to ask if the reunion was still on. I was assured it was. We later found that many had to rent cars as air traffic had been stopped.

I remember hearing that President (George W.) Bush was at Barksdale Air Force Base which is not very far from where we live, over the Louisiana border.

It was all scary and we did a lot of praying. We prayed we would be safe and we prayed for people everywhere.

When we did get to our stop . . . and I cannot remember where it was although I am thinking it might have been near Nashville or Memphis . . . we turned on the TV first thing.

There was Peter Jennings, still there. It was as though he was watching over the whole country.

When we reached Terre Haute (which means High Land), after booking into the hotel, we went to the church Hubby had attended while studying Engineering. We prayed and we read a Psalm.

We went to dinner at Hubby's favorite restaurant which I think was called Louise's.

The next day, we went to the Reunion Reception and everyone was talking about what had happened in New York City. Everyone had their own story to tell. Their love for "Dear Old Rose" would not stop them from getting their to see their old classmates.

I know you remember where you were and what you were doing. And I know you remember my fellow Canadian, Peter Jennings, who sat at that desk non-stop. We are patriotic, we Canadians. We love our adopted country, United States of America and will stand up for its safety and freedom.

We have our flag flying today and I have a patriotic outfit and jewellery - in fact a special bracelet my friend Bonnie made me - that I will wear to Bible Study this afternoon.

God Bless You; God Bless United States of American and all who are dual citizens and have been given opportunity here.

Very Old and Brand New - Naranjo Museum of Natural History in Lufkin, Texas - Dinosaurs!

Dr. Neal Naranjo has had a lifelong passion for dinosaurs and prehistoric artifacts that Hubby and I plan to see this weekend.

This is when the Naranjo Museum of Natural History will open in Lufkin, Texas (about an hour's drive up Hwy 59 from Houston).

To learn about this new attraction, you can visit their website at:

http://www.naranjomuseum.org

or phone (936) 639-DINO (3466)

Location 5401 South First St. , Lufkin, Texas TX

Email info@naranjomuseum.org

One More Friend . . . One More Adventure

It has been my experience over the years, that when someone close to you dies, you have about three weeks.

Three weeks? Well, people send cards; they come by; they make sure you are okay.

So, what happens after three weeks? Well, you start to process that the person is actually gone and you try to figure out how your life will be without that person.

Because we were with Hubby's son (my stepson), Mark for three days about ten days before his death, we have the gift of the fine time we had and that means a lot.

An uncle and my grandfather died when I was a teenager and then on my 22nd birthday, my father succumbed to cancer. Both of my children died in infancy, having been born microcephalic. (This means the brain stops growing within the first three months of pregnancy and the child can do very little even fundamental things.)

I won't be giving you a timeline of when others died, but suffice it to say, I am no stranger to deaths and funerals.

How we process these major changes in our life, shapes how happy or sad the rest of our life is going to be.

My mother was a great planner of funerals but she was a poor processor of deaths. So, you could say, she processed the funeral but not the death.

If you have been following this blog, then you know that we have been dealing with medical issues: Hubby's vision specifically. You also have been reading that angels kept crossing my path. People have been really tremendous, and just thinking about that makes me realize how very fortunate I have been to have wonderful people making things easier along the way.

Even before Mark's death, people were doing really nice things for us.

One friend who lives across and down the street picked up Buddy, our Lhasa Apso, from the Vet where he was boarded while we were in Houston for Keith's surgery. He told me to text to let him know as we approached home. He walked Buddy down to our driveway. So, when Hubby lifted his head off the pillow where he had to keep it 23 hours a day, what he saw was his pal, Buddy! What a nice thing for that man to do!

We brought a basket out to the coffee table to hold the notes and cards people sent us. So now we can go through those and truly appreciate how much people attended to us to show us they cared.

Last week I found out that I too will be having eye surgery. So, it is ongoing and life literally does keep on going.

As you know, we are in our Church Choir and so we practice every Wednesday and sing at Sunday morning service. Our Choir and all church friends have been especially kind.

Now it is indeed time to step out and do a few special things. This will be easy because lots of things begin in September.

One thing I did during the summer was to be the liturgist during our Sunday morning service. I had never done that before. So, naturally, I was quite nervous about it.

But wait . . . it gets better! Our Choir Director asked us to sing a solo that same Sunday. When Hubby found out I had accepted, he was a little surprised and asked why.

"Because they might not ask us again!"

We were given a CD of the service and after listening, I said:

"Gee, I think I am a better liturgist than singer."

So I will be liturgist again this month.

Funny, no matter how much people say it, it always surprises me that there is at least one more thing you can try to do that you have never done before. And . . . you just might be very good at it!

So . . . life is going on for us. Yes, we are getting older and yes, it is harder for us to get around as easily as we used to but we can do this.

Now, we have one more watching over us.

This year, Hubby will be in the Community Band, playing his clarinet again. I love that! Bet you did not know that he had not played for 40 years when he dusted off his clarinet to play when the Band started up here in town. He goes over every Tuesday night and next week he will have new glasses to better read the music.

We must never, never give up for that will be the end of us.

By the way, I notice that more and more people offer to help us if it is difficult for us to get up or down steps and there is always someone who will offer a hand.

Yes, we are blessed indeed and we must keep on going.

This evening we were at a party where there were several people we know and a few that we had not met in person before. Facebook fans will appreciate that one man whom I had never met in person told me he always reads my blog.

Wow!

Another man told Hubby that if there is anything he needs help with, just call.

Wow!

We have more friends than we know and if we just keep our eyes open well . . . and soon both of us will be seeing much better . . . we will see that out time is not over yet.

We must never give up because for all of us of all ages, there is just one more new adventure around the corner and one more new friend to be made.

And yes . . . there is one more angel watching over us.

Another . . .

Butterfly's Time, a photo by Firefox Ink on Flickr.

Since the lady had a butterfly garden in Florida named for her, these pictures seem appropriate to post. She had lobbied for Florida land not to be developed and she won, even though it took ten years. I hear she was the kind of person who truly loved life and she lived to 93.

Hubby is the surviving person to witness her hole-in-one several years ago.

The call came from Hubby's grandson that the funeral for his maternal Grandmother would be this morning.

We were there. Grandson gave a fine eulogy to make us very proud of him.

Grandson has suffered two deaths - his father and his grandmother - in two months.

If you have followed this blog over the past three months, you know we have not been lounging.

It is hitting us quite hard, we know that. Hubby's surgery and the hearing aid that fritzed the day before surgery; the Explorer engine: most has been documented here.

Perhaps it is time for some kind of change or rest. But there are medical appointments and bills and recurring thoughts about aging.

I did not do well this morning - I felt very old - as I fumbled with a necklace that I could not fasten and looked very hard for earrings I could not find. Using Grandson's instructions, we drove right to the church in another town. Then I stumbled up the steps and that just made me feel even older.

So now that I know I am older and Hubby older than I, what am I thinking?

Well, first I think how lucky I am to have a Hubby who cares. He cares about me, his Church, his God and Old Friends.

I think about our Church and Choir and all the people there who are very special to me. I think about our college music students who help put our music together and help us up into the loft. And I must not forget the gentle people from today's church who made sure we got safely down their steps.

I think about our own Minister who has helped Hubby and me so very much.

Hubby and I try to never quit! A few Sundays ago I was liturgist for the very first time. Then as the Choir was on break, we sang a duet: Softly and Tenderly, Jesus Is Calling.

A lady sang that today at the funeral. She was better . . . well perhaps she was different. We all have different ways and different talents and . . . different beliefs and thoughts.

(Mind you, when I heard the CD of the service, I felt that perhaps my calling is more to be a liturgist than a singer.)

But we can never give up. We should always be reaching out. There is always someone who needs sandwiches made, meeting attendance, a phone call, a hug, a compliment, a kind word, some reassurance that things will work out. There is ALWAYS someone who needs a lift - yes, more than we do!

Last week, Hubby decided he should check why the windshield washer was not working. Hmm . . . perhaps not hooked up when the new engine was installed. So, it was off to Amber at Al Meyer Ford! We sat in the rental car waiting room. Amber came back in to tell us all was fine. We went out to the Explorer and just as we were ready to leave, the gal from the rental desk came running out . . . "I think this is yours!"

It was my silver magnetic Christian fish that I had taken off the SUV, put in my purse and later transferred to the back of the Ford Fusion the day the Explorer had to be hauled in.

Stepson Mark had a hymn for that, just as the cartoonist showed Steve Jobs with an app for checking him at the Heavenly Gates:

We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord
And we pray that all unity may one day be restored
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love

We will work with each other, we will work side by side
We will work with each other, we will work side by side
And we'll guard each one's dignity and save each one's pride
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love

By our love, by our love

And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love

We will walk with each other, we will walk hand in hand
We will walk with each other, we will walk hand in hand
And together we'll spread the news that God is in our land
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love

By our love, by our love

And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love

Love is patient, love is kind
Never boasts, not full of pride
Always hopes, always trusts
The evidence of Christ in us

This is my commandment that you love one another that your joy may be full

© 1966 by F.E.L. Publications, Ltd./ASCAP (1925 Pontius Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90025)

Butterfly, a photo by adnan23 on Flickr.

Go to the right column and scan down to see Fido and Fifi blog! ~ Thanks, Buddy

Please go to Fido and Fifi to read the lastest blog!

http://fido-and-fifi.blogspot.com

The Olympic rings flag

The Olympic rings flag, a photo by Gavin Llewellyn on Flickr.

Time to watch the Opening Night of the Olympics. Please watch for David Tremblay, a wrestler from Canada. You can also like his Facebook page. Have known his uncle, Jean Tremblay for many years.