Friday, March 12, 2010

Fighting 55

The strength of loyalty
and the endurance of
snow capped mountains
kept them moving forward.
Nothing could hold them back
as they struggled
to achieve the impossible.
Pushing with a heart
forged of molten metal
the immovable object
become as pliable as taffy.
Slowly they emerged.
Fans no brick wall would ever be holding back.

You can find this sculture at Oregon State University's Reser Stadium.

A Tribute to the fans of Beaver Nation


This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.

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Wednesday, March 10, 2010


Last night I was dreaming that I was paying a visit to my mother and step father. They had moved into a new residence and invited me to come see it. This was most likely "dreams imitating life", since this did happen in January, but as dreams go it wasn't their new place it was entirely different.

In my dream I walked down a long narrow flight of stairs that was akin to a circular staircase but walled in. It wasn't something my mother could navigate in her current state. When I reached their main room it was a large, carpeted open space with little or no furniture and my mother was laying on the floor slightly propped up. The room was completely glassed walled and looked out onto a golf course. This made my step dad giddy with excitement. He loves his golf.

I leaned down to ask my mother how she felt about their new place and she smiled at me and said "It was fine." I know her and I knew she was just going along with what would make her husband happy but as she lay there on the floor, I knew things weren't "fine".

It was at that exact moment in REAL LIFE, 4:08 AM, that my cell phone rang with the ring that told me it was coming from my mother's home. My thoughts went to the worst but my gut wasn't getting that feeling that it was "the call". My step dad was on the other end of line to tell me that my mother had fallen again (she fell last Saturday as well) and he couldn't lift her. I told him we were on our way.

When we got to their home, my mother was on the floor propped up as in my dream and was telling me she was "fine". Mrs. MM and I lifted her to safety, assessed that she would be alright and breathed a sign of relief.

My mother and I have always had a special connection. I have always known when it was her on the other end of a call even before I would pick up. We would jokingly blame her Gypsy blood on the phenomenon. Her mother's maiden name was Zinga. A woman who was born on Halloween and died on Easter. But those are just fun facts. I know this special connection will soon be broken forever and it saddens me. So for now, I just have to appreciate it day to day and stay open to the fact that connections of the spiritual kind are real and should be cherished.

Are you connected?

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Coincidence in 160

“What’s growing out of the pot mom gave us?”, I asked.
“It's a bleeding heart,” replied my wife.
“Don't you think that's appropriate
considering her condition?”

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Back Story: When my mother and step father moved out of their home a month before my mom was given just a short time to live, she gave us several flower pots. Only one of them had anything growing in it. We were going to pull out the small green leaves that pushed through the soil but decided to see what it might be - weed, flower or Audrey 2? When it reached the point of blooming we discovered it to be a Bleeding Heart. It seems appropriate considering it is congestive heart failure that is taking my mother. What we thought may be just a weed is now a cherished addition to our garden. Thanks, Mom, for giving us another touchstone. She is still hanging in there and has the help of a great hospice group and many friends. Thanks also to you, my fellow bloggers, for your kind words and support.