Holding On To The Good Stuff

This EDM sketch is "Something That Smells Good." It is one of my soapstone containers that holds Patchouli solid perfume. Patchouli became my favorite scent in the early 70's - primarily because it was said to cover the scent of marijuana. Back in those "good ole days" I smoked a lot of that herb and even grew it in my backyard. My neighbors all knew what the plants were and so did my children. As I look back on that, I think that the main thing it taught my children was the advantage of a good compost pile! I am proud to say that their minds weren't warped too much since neither of them seemed to be interested in smoking weed to any extent. Now my daughter is too old for such foolishness. I am too!

I don't smoke "Mary Jane," or cigarettes, anymore, nor do I drink alcohol in any form. I don't use illegal drugs - the ones that are prescribed for me alter my mind enough! Even though it has been a long time since I sat around with friends and smoked a joint, I didn't give up using Patchouli. I like the fragrance, and I like the memories that go with it. I remember those days with fondness and fun. I have a number of good stories about the times when I was "stoned." They are funny ones and I enjoy having others laugh with me over the antics of my younger days.

My brother, Mike, only wears Patchouli- that aftershave stuff is not for him! Like me, he has fond memories of the good times we each had in the past. I'm sorry to say that I never had that "particular good time" with Mike. Instead we share the love of the fragrance, the fun of wearing it, and our own individual stories of the "good times." When I am with Mike - not nearly enough for either of us - the fragrance of Patchouli enfolds us in a special, and somewhat secret, embrace.

The event that brought all this to mind so clearly, and fondly, was seeing Joan Baez in concert on Monday. The audience ranged somewhere between 45 and 70 years of age. There were canes and strong arms to lean on. No one moved very fast and there was lots of gray hair. A small number of younger people attended and Joan carefully explained the background of the songs for those who "weren't there" back then! She encouraged us to sing along on several of the songs...it was very nice. I'm told that there was a distinct smell of marijuana in the parking garage before the show...glad I wasn't there...I might have lingered a bit too long!

Well, this blog has kept me smiling the entire time. Ahhh, There was some good stuff in the 70's, I can still smell the fun we had.

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Memories...happy and sad

This is a photo from my 60th birthday weekend, so it is three years old. You might have guessed that I am in the center of the photo and my children are on either side. Shannon is the one with the reddish hair. She colors her hair because she says it is "too grey." At first I didn't believe her, then I got a chance to see it when it was a bit grown out. She's right...just too much white for a woman her age! She is 39 years old in the photo and my son, Todd, the older of the two, is 41 years old here. He has his dad's hair - beautifully white at the temples and a sprinkling of white through the rest of his hair. Me - about four white hairs here, and three years later I have a few more shining in my temples.


This photo was taken on a very happy day. Two of my friends gave me the gift of a weekend at a beautiful beach house directly on the Atlantic Ocean in St. Augustine, Florida. My son and his wife, my daughter and her husband, and the two boys were there. My sister was a surprise guest and Lori, a long time friend, joined us with Dwight who has become the newest member of the "family." So, my closest friends and family members were there to celebrate with me, and with my life partner, Kess. It couldn't have been a happier, nicer, or more wonderful time!


The following year, on my 61st birthday, we celebrated again! Kess and I, and those same two generous friends, were going out to dinner at a favorite restaurant. When we arrived - there were my kids, their spouses, my grandsons and Lori and Dwight. I was delightfully surprised - again! Two years in a row I had my children with me for my birthday - what a treat! Another very, very, happy time...and a few tears of joy from this old mom.


I didn't know it then, but that was the last birthday that I would celebrate with both of my children. Four months later - almost to the day - my son was gone forever. I was with him that January...we visited him in South Carolina for his 42nd birthday in March, and then I never saw him or spoke with him again. On May 2nd he was dead, killed by a 21 year old girl who ran a stop sign. She hit him broadside on the driver's side and his truck rolled and rolled. Todd was thrown from the truck and he died on the edge of the road a few minutes later. The death certificate says he died from closed head trauma, but I could tell from the accident scene that he must have had massive internal injuries. I am told that he "didn't suffer" because the head injuries were so bad that he wouldn't have felt all the pain.

Todd would have been 44 years old today. Even though it has been almost two years, I frequently wonder if he knew what was happening when he lost control of the truck and it began to roll. Did he realize that his life was about to end? Did he call out for God, his wife, children, or his dad, Shannon or me? How long did he lie there, alone, before someone came to his side?


Today I feel frightened, frightened about the depth of the pain that I feel when I remember him. I feel frightened that I won't have the emotional strength to survive the day, yet I know I will. The memory of looking at the gashes in the asphalt from the truck tumbling over and over...the memory of seeing his blood on the road where it had run from his head...those memories are as clear in my mind as if they happened just yesterday. I'm not certain that it will ever be any different.

I haven't enjoyed a holiday or a birthday since Todd was killed. I haven't put up the Christmas tree, decorated for the Springtime, or planted any flowers. Those "special days" of the year don't seem so special. The things that bring happiness into my life now are live things - people, the great blue herons and owls that fly overhead, our three dogs and two old cats, my little parrot that Todd used to hold. She never tried to bite his callused hands...

As I get older, I cherish the memories of my children's lives - remembering when they were just little folks. They really do grow up too fast and leave home much too soon. I wish I could have a "do over" with my kids. I would pay a lot more attention, be much gentler, hug them dozens of times each day, not waste a minute in worry, but spend my time being in the present moment as I watched them grow.

Happy Birthday, Son. Your life made a difference for so many people and we miss you.