Some Polish relatives and name changes..

1942 My grandmother, Rose with Mom 

Apparently I wrote this years ago but did not post it to t he blog?  So as I am digging through my computer files to provide information on my Ostrowski relatives, I am publishing this here.  Right now, I believe the Ostrowski's are rattling their bones from Above Beyond as they do periodically asking to be remembered.  This sure would be easier had they not been so evasive about things years before.  And also if I had been more interested as a child growing up amongst all.  But things changed and now over the years,  most all relatives gone, I still try to piece the puzzle of the Ostrowski and other Polish family members.  

Bill Austin, projectionist

Often I'll mention my Polish grandmother, Baba (Rose) or my grandpap, Teofil Kochanowski. Uncle Carl, their son changed his name to Konesky.  This irked Teofil, my grandpap, who would scoff, " big shot can't spell and use his real name, has to try to be English."   Konesky was a name used by others in that area although they were not related.  I believe the name change was to avoid discrimination against the Polish.   It was common for Polish  and other  ethnicities to anglicize their names.

Baba's brother Bill changed his name to Austin from the family name, Ostrowski or Ostroski, depending on who spelled it.  He and his wife Louise had no children so the Austin ends with them. I never understood how he got the name Bill when his official name was Walter?  So who knows how names shifted back then.  

There was prejudice toward immigrants in the 1800's, immigrants who came to the US to work and work they did.  That prejudice usually by the WASPS (white Anglo Saxon Protestants) endured over many years still affecting uncle Carl  in the 1940's.   They all wanted to fit into American society and American ways. They came to work and work they did as laborer's in the coal mines and factories which were a step up to them.  This photo 9of Uncle Bill Austin appeared in the newspaper and it was considered an honor that he ran the projections for the movies at the Liberty theater in town.  That was likely another reason and way Baba and I got to go to the movies every weekend, courtesy of Uncle Bill. 

Despite assimilation hopes, they founded their own Catholic church in our town, St. Mary's. It was separate from the Italian Catholic church, St. Peter's or St. Joseph's, the catch all Catholic Church founded by Irish but where every other Catholic went who was not Polish or Italian. More another time about the churches in our town, but I recall they were on every corner and represented  every denomination, Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox and Jewish. 

I spent lots of time with my grandparents, especially Baba. Any free moment I'd be down the hill, across the tracks to their home. We lived in a small town, although looking back it was the heyday of a booming city--New Kensington, PA population of nearly 20,000. We grew up in the best of times in the 50's and 60's. Today there is nothing in New Ken, the mills closed, the mines closed, the factories moved--all part of the great movement out of the US for cheaper mfg. elsewhere. But in my day New Ken was home to an Alcoa factory and the Alcoa Laboratory, near to Pittsburgh Plate Glass where all my relatives worked at one time in their lives, nearby steel mills Allegheny Ludlum across the river in Brackenridge where my mother's 3rd husband, Barney Degnan worked and Braeburn Steel where my 1/2 demonic brother's father (my mother's demonic 2nd husband) worked.

I was a thoroughbred Polack, with full Polish on my father's side. Remember how the Polish changed and anglicized their names to avoid prejudice, well my father's family name was Ball. I used to be embarrassed by that name as I got older--it seemed odd. Kids teased me. The story is Grandpap Ball was illiterate and could not write his name. When he came to this country who knows what the Polish spelling was, somehow it was shortened to Ball and that's what we used. I have no way to this day to find his real name. I did not see Frank and Anna Ball much although they lived about 10 miles across the river in Harwick, /Spingdale, on rural acreage.

Why I had limited relationship with the Ball's goes back to my birth and the death of my father, 2nd Lt. Lewis S. Ball, Army Air Corps. As I have learned from my membership in AWON (http://www.awon.org/awmain.shtml ) my story is common among my sibling > 180,000 WWII orphans. Dad was a pilot who had a will naming Mom as beneficiary. As a young soldier, he didn't expect death but it was wartime. However, Dad forgot to change the beneficiary on his life insurance policy--it was a bit of money in those days, $10,000. When his plane disappeared and he and the crew were declared dead, see my older post or AWON at http://www.awon.org/awball.html the insurance money went to Baba Ball.

This devastated my pregnant mother. Dad died June 20, 1944 and I was born in November 1944. (Some in AWON friends call this "posthumously born" which would be a comical term if our lives had not been so unfunny mostly. Like how can I be born after death. Anyway the term is to connote our birth after our fathers' deaths.)

I grew up with my mother being very bitter toward the Balls. Baba Rose didn't think too highly of them either and from time to time would have a Polish conversation on the phone with Anna; it was then that I could hear Baba Rose cuss in Polish. she never spoke that way but likely she felt Anna deserved it.  The story is that when I was born, Baba Ball came to the hospital and demanded that my mother give me to her to make up for her lost Louie (dad.) Mom and Baba rose promptly told her where to go and that she should give them the $10,000 to raise me. I learned that this was true when Mom died in 2004 and cleaning out her house, I found a suitcase of old papers and documents about my father.

There is more to that story of bitterness--they resented my mother remarrying. Well, my life would have been better if she had not remarried too, but that will be a story for another posting. My grand father Frank Ball died when I was about 9 or 10. After that their oldest son, Eddie took over. He built their home on the Ball property. His wife was Esther and they had 3 daughters, Carol, Christine, and Sheryl. I know little about these cousins.  Eddie died years ago in PA. He had Baba Ball write me out of her will and leave everything to his wife and children. It is thought that there was a significant amount of $$ there as they sold property where the Pittsburgh Mills shopping mall now sits. So much for that  inheritance--Eddie seemed to dislike us. But I know he has had to answer on the other side to his brother, my dad about his actions.  f he saw us downtown or even at church he would turn his head and walk quickly away. I thought there must be something wrong with me.

Mystery of the bronze sculpture

I have been battling a horrid spring cold all week.  Last Thursday I thought allergies were getting to me, by Saturday evening at mass I was sneezing less and coughing more.  Long saga, allergies no, nasty cold yes.  I haven't had a cold for many years and this spring cold was a doozy.  I had no fever but cough and hacking sputum and mucus..  One  that has had me cooped up all week, drinking lots of liquid, dousing with Thera flu and napping midday like an invalid.  By Wednesday I was looking for something to do inside  besides reading and checking my social media.  I was sorting through some old papers downstairs and found this document about a metal sculpture.  I had no clue what this might be related to, but surmised I had brought it with us from CA.  Nothing came to mind.  What was it, why had I stuffed this piece of paper into a small woven basket? 

Whatever it was had me scratching my head and looking around tge house.  The only bronze sculptures I thought of were some antique pieces I inherited from my late Uncle in PA.  This obviously was not one of those.  

 I Googled the sculptor and could find items for sale on EBAY and an art auction.  Then I realized, it was the Frog!  A small paperweight that has been here in our living room on the mantle ledge.  A handsome guy.  

 What I should have done is enlarged the writing on the Certificate (left photo) to see that a Frog is indeed identified along with the number.   I had glanced at this and couldn't make out the word "frog."

This took me over an hour to resolve after I went upstairs.  The certificate indicates I paid $25, but today the value ranges from $95 and up. I cannot find if the sculptor is still alive.   The Frog is signed on the side and numbered, it is not clear but the certificate is.

David Chesney Studios.

I still cannot recall buying this or why, but likely it was at an art show or tour.  He is now more of a treasure for me.  Especially because the mystery is resolved.  

Right after I posted this I tried to google the sculptor again and found his obituary from 2015.  Still not jogging my memory about when, why, how I bought the frog.  "

Obituary  David Lee Chesney

David Lee Chesney, age 59, passed on July 29, 2015 of oral cancer. He was born in Torrance, CA on August 20 1955 to loving parents Thomas Chesney and Ronna Chesney. He was a renowned bronze sculptor and artist for over 35 years. Lived in the Yuba City area for over 25 years.

Another year for Clancy Shenson

 This is Clancy who comes out once a year to keep watch and celebrate his Irish.  He joined us in about 2006 after we moved here in retirement from CA,  Yesterday I mentioned Shenson's corned beef which we enjoyed in CA and is not available here.  Clancy is named for that brand.   Every year I bring out different little decorative things around certain themes.  I used to enjoy doing this much more when Jerry was alive.  Idon't know why because he always told me to not go through the bother, but he always enjoyed seeing how I'd admire my things.  So while now I seldom acquire any new home trinkets I still bring out some of the collections to amuse myself.  

Clancy is a leprechaun bear, complete with green attire and gold coins. He comes with shamrock on his lapel and on jhis hat and also has a potato on that hat rim.  He's standing next to one of the little hats I used to place down the center of the dining room table with other green trinkets and vases.  I seldom do that and didn't this year, but enjoyed seeing Clancy again.  Just about every trinket or decor item I've accumulatted over the years brings memories to my mind.  Now I know I;m getting the year on.  Someday someone will toss all my stuff and think it nothing but junk, but to me for now I'll remember the stories.  

You can almost see the worn thin sole of his shoe in this icture where he's seated.  The hat is 2 1/2 inches high and Clancy is 4 1/2 inches standing.  In this back view of him below you can see his sheleleigh in his back hip pocket.  Not visib;e isi the number across his bottom, 265971.  I don't know what that signifies,  if anything.  I recall finding him at an estate sale and immediately scooping him up,  just perfect for this March theme.  

But now Clancy will return to the box for another year.  Aaaand Easter is coming so early, I'll have to get busy here and get some of that stuff out.  

Corned beef on St. Pat's Day

 For as long as I can remember I have  cooked a corned beef, cabbage, carrots, potatoes meal on St. Patrick's Day.  It was one of Jerry's favorite meals and very easy, just put in the pot and boil simmer for hours in broth and dark beer.  Only one year, when he was in the hospital I didn't fix it that day. I bought a corned beef dinner from a local restaurant for me.  But I had the brisket in the freezer and when he was back home he wanted the corned beef dinner he'd missed in the hospital.  

When we lived in CA it seemed we got better corned beef than is avaiable here,  always bought Shenson's brand which has  never been available in this area.  Maybe it is no longer in CA either.  Anyway we enjoyed the meal and Jerry looked forward the next day to a rrepeat of left overs which were always there with just two of us eating.  

My half eaten crned beef dinner last night

The past couple years, with just me now, I would find the smallest brisket and cook it, having left overs for a couple meals.  This year the smallest brisket I could find wass still over 2 lbs,  I decided I'd just forget about it because I did not want to eat it for weeks.  Then I saw a ready made just heat and eat mel at our Festival Grocery take out deli counter and thought that would work for me.  There were 3 generous slices of thick corned beef, a potato, a few carrots and some cabbage.  I figured I'd add cabbage and have left over meat for a rreuben style sandwhich in a day or so.  So I would once again have my corned beef and cabbage meal  I thought it would be better than going to the local tavern to get take out because the noise there hurts my ears Besides there would likely be a huge crowd celebrating and drinking.  Yesterday our temperatures dropped down to winter like again with a tough wind, I didn't feel like leaving the house. 

When I prepared this I added ore cabbage and carrots and another tiny red potato to some beef brroth and ale,,,I did not think I should add the corned beef until near the end to just heat it.  What a disappointing dinner!  The most tasteless bland and tough corned beef I have ever had.  I had to douse it with lots of fresh horseradish to eat it.  I only ate one of the three meat slices and thought maybe with some lacey swiss cheese it would be ok on the marble rye bread for a sandwhich or two.

Left over corned beef and potato

  Today I decided it was not even going to makea decent tsting sandwhich.  I was tempted to toss it but I get tired throwing out food.  I do that more than ever now with just me to eat.  

I decided to cut the meat up and use it in a soup.  I've never made corned beef and cabbage,carrot,  potato soup before.  I  like soups though and can always freeze some for another handy meal.  So right now the soup pot is simmering and smelling aromatic.  I chopped and sauteed half a small onion in butter in the pot till almost transparent, then added chopped celery, a small sweet red pepper chopped, some celery leaves and some baby carrot halved, worcestershure sauce, thyme, more beef broth, the left over ale broth from yesterday , a generous dollop of grainy heavy brown mustard because I had no mustard seeds and a couple big bay leaves.  I hope this slow simmer tenderizes the meat hunks.  If not the cabbage which I'll dd later and veggies will be tasty.  Some rye bread and butter and I'll have a nuttritious meal.  For sure by the smells already it will taste better than last night's fiasco.  

Soup's on

Lesson earned,  don't buy that again.  Invite someone to dinner and cook my own. 

Tell your story.

 I saw this on a widows site I partiipate in on FB.  It is so true,  and that's why I am trying to write here again...To preserve.   I continue to learn and do new things as a widow, things I never did while Jerrt was alive.  He handled everything and I was content to let that be.  Now,  awakening.  Not my preference but no other choice.   When I share something with others, especially other widows and they say, me too" and add what they did it resonates with me.  

Tell your story

Another hurdle jumped over

 As a widow I have had to learn innumerable things, techniques to do tasks I never did before.  Tasks I never thought about.  All those things Jerry did seamlessly, easily.  I was content to not know until I had to.  Until I had no choice.  If I was to continue living here in this lovely home I had to figure things out.  There was no other choice. 

 The last thing I want to do is become a pest to the good friends who stuck with me, who continued to care and be here while others vanished.  But that's another story, the vanishing.  This couple always say, "call anytime, we will be there, don't struggle.."  Sometimes I do prevail on them, like changing my smoke/ CO2 detector/alarms in the ceiling when their lifeexpectancy reached the end, alerting me by chirping constantly. First he came  disconnected  it, returned another day after I got replacements  and reinstalled new ones.  I  cannot reach those in the ceiling, even on a step ladder, so called Gary.  

Sometimes if they haven't heard from me they call or drop by just to see.  Gary has opened jars for me when I cannot.  I hesitate to buy the jars of olives and marinated mushrooms, because I don't want to bother him, but he laughs.  Judy has rescued me when I locked myself out of the house, unknowingly, accidentally by bringing over the house key.  They live nearby, a few blocks away and I do not know what I'd do without them.  Others have family to rely on, I do not.

I do hire a handyman for bigger things like back deck repair, etc. And thankfully here I have reliable trustworthy people to call for repairs too.  

New Whirlpool frig

  But so much for all that background, today I noticed a red warning light on the refrigerator freezer door controls  to change the water filter,  I had a new one ready that I'd purchased from Whirlpool.  I bought this new Whirlpool refrigerator  last August.  Instructions recommend changing the water filter every 6 months.  But with just me here, mostly,  I figured I could wait another month or so.  But the refrigerator disagreed.  Our former GE Profile could keep the same filter for nearly a year.  We have good clean pure city treated water.  Ok so I'm ready to do this and get rid of the red light. 

The instructions on the filter indicate it is in the right corner inside the refrigerator, but inside mine nothing. WTH?  I close and open the door a couple times incase I'mmissing something,,same, nothing.  No water filter to be changed? WTH?. So I'm thinking I'll have to call Gary later or even worse the local refrigerator repaorman who is reasonable but would surely have to charge me something.  Then Idecide to get the manual.  I look inside about water filter, same instructuons!  WTH again?  Then I notice a Section 2 for refrigerators like this model with red light indicator on the door. 

And there is another instructuion.  Aha, the water filter on this is on the base!  Thart's different.  I get down on the floor and find tthe little door but realize I can't fully open it to eject the filter.   Hmm?  Don't tell me the freezer door blocks it!  So I pen the freezer door and victory I can open the filter cartridge door.  I do, it ejects the old cartridgee.  I open the new one insert it and feel I have earned my 2nd cup of coffee and maybe another donut!  Victory dance and proud of me.  As we widows say among ourselves, a YAY ME MOMENT!!

Comic actions unintended

Yesterday I went to our local hardware store intown to get batteries replaced in my remote control for the back sunporch blinds.  I could not get the back off the contraption.  Since the directions said it would take two watch batteries and the local hardware store is where I always get my watch batteries replaced, I figured they would help me.  Sure enough the woman at the counter did and then asked if there was anything else.

  I said I needed a C battery for an old clock at home but didn't find it there among all the batteries they had.  I said I would have to go home and check for sure and just come back.  She asked if I was needing a C or D and I replied, "C"  She asked me to show her where I looked and  that they usually had C batteries.  I continued my chattering as we went to the battery display.  "I need a C but you only have C2 or C4 and I'm not sure."  I pointed to the packages.  And she very courteously told me the 2 and 4 were only the number of the batteries in the packages, they were C batteries.  I smacked myself upside my forehead and grinned.  Who knew?  Obviously not me.  I attribute this to widow brain fog a condition that seems to emerge every so often even after 3 years., When Jerry was alive and I did something this lame he'd laugh and shake his head.  I bet that the hardware store lady had a good laugh the rest of the day telling this story!  

One of my widow friends laughed with me and said she would have done the same thing, reminded me that we have lifetimes of things to learn now that our husbands always handled.  So true, no wonder we get confused.  AND +: 

Puzzles, perceptions, reality/

 

2018 3 16  Jerry starts a new jigsaw puzzle. 

 I have never been a fan of jigsaw puzzles like   so many are around here especially in winter.   Jerry liked them too.  I found them frustrating.  I   might try to get a few pieces in place but really   was  not interested enough to keep at it.  Short   attention span?  Maybe ,but concentrating on   shapes and fitting them didn't appeal to me. 

   Now words puzz;es like word search, jumble,   even crosswords and I'm in.  I have been doing   Wordle on line daiy now for over a year.  I lost   my original statistics when I had the laptop hard   drive replaced.  Don't understand why since it   was online with the Wordle site, but it happbed.  So I resumed and began again.  But this time I am using online hints before I try my Wordle solution. Onesource I use is Forbes which has ahint and clue, sometimes neither arehelpful to me.  But along with the Wrdle hunt there is commentary and a weekly puzzle.  Sometimes these are not of interest to me but today this solution to yesterday's puzzle was interesting.  

Which square is darker A or B?

Answer,  neither.  It is an optical illusion

I still cannot see it as an illusion,  I'm convinced A is dark and B is light.  Apparently my perceptions rule reality.   

This is called the Checker Shadow Illusion and was created by MIT professor of vision science, Edward H. Adelson, back in 1995. While the ‘A’ square appears darker, it’s just an optical illusion. If you printed this image both squares would use the identical mixture of ink and are displayed with pixels of the same exact color, which is rather astonishing. Just looking at the first picture, I still can’t make my brain accept that they’re the same. Wild! It just goes to show how much our perception of things influences how we think about them—and how unreliable our senses truly are.   

Life goes on and so do I

 

This picture was on October 20, 2017, our 50th anniversary at Sullivans in Trempeleau for dinner.  That was  a couple months over 7 years ago and my eyes had that sparkle.  I was always a joyful person.  I was "bubbly" my aunt said, always happy.  I used to giggle at nothing.  I laughed easily. 

Today I know I live in a new reality as a widow.  My life is "good", I am financially secure, hve a beautiful home, a couple very dependable local friends whom I can call on any time for anything, and am active in my church, my faith is solid. I haveoutstanding medical care thru Mayo, our PCP is a friend as well as a doctor.  My local attorney,the same.  And my financial advisor has been trustworthy all along, have known him since we moved here.  Lots to be thankful for,  Multitudes of blessings.  

Yet my eyes no longer have that sparkle,  After Jerry passed in Decemer 2020, my spark went out.  I didn't realize it at the time although I knew I was in a different solo flight part of life now.  I handled everything that needed to be done and everyone complimented me on how well I was doing.  I often said in reply to those comments, "I had no other choice."   And that was the truth.  No one but me to handle me and everything.  I convinced Jerry in his final weeks that I would be ok.  I was relieved to hear he believed me when one day he said, "you are going to be just fine, you are strong, you are secure, you will make it."  I had assurred him so he could let go peacefully because I knew he was worried as hell about me.  So many people told me these past fewyears that he asked them to "watch over Pat for me,"  Some did, like champs.  Others have vanished like ghost wisps.  That happens, people go on with their own lives in their own worlds.  Many widows experience that.  

I grew up with widows around and no one ignored them, relatives, friends.  Life and people were different.  In my early grief I could hear my mother's words to me about disappointments that I considered tragic especially in my teen years, "you are  not the only one in the world that happens to.  You're not the first, you won't be the last. Get  over it.  Don't pout."   When she became a widow she said almost the same to me, "I'm not the only widow in the worldd, I'm not the first, I won't be the last."  She well knew from her own life because she was a very young 20 year old widow pregnant with me when my father's plane disappeared in June 1944, WWII, months before my birth.  

So why lately has it begun to bother me that my eyes no longer have their sparkle?  I find times of enjoyment, But I'm just not the same. I know I'm different.  I think I'm fine just wistful.  This photo was taken August 2023 on a nasty hat day for our church directory.  About the last thing I wanted to do that day was have my picture taken.  My SIL was here from CO with her partner and their 2 dogs.  But I got ready and went.  I kept my jean shorts on because I knew it would only be a head shot.  Later I realized I had worn the very same top as in 2017 when we had photos taken fr the last dieectory.  One of those of Jerry  and me is to the side.  I orderd many because it was our 50th anniversary year.  This time I had no need and just got a few wallet sized to send to friends arund the country in Christmas cards.  People I do not see and who are not on Facebook with me.  But people with whom I've kept in touch over years.  Rhe number of those has decreased as many have passed on.  Yet I am here,  I am a survivor.  Without the sparkle in the eyes, but making it.  

   

New Year 2024 First Day of the year

 

First day of a new year and it is grey, we seem to be in a tristate cloud cover.  MN, WI, IA all clouds. Yet, at least no snow, other than a few crunchy spots residue from yesterday morning's early hours dusting.  Did not have to be shoveled for which I am also grateful.  In October, following the startling, to me, snow dump on Halloween I thought we would be in for an awful dose of whiteness all winter.  So far I have been wrong, which is fine with me.  But I still fear we haven't seen the last,  this is MN after all.  And it is darned cold.  Today we never hit the 30 degree mark.  That foiled my resolution to start the year off with a walk.  Well maybe tomorrow, if we get some sunshine.  The farthest I've walked to day is across the street to church before and after mass from my car in the parking lot.  It was not a day of obligation but if I could be up and ready for 9 o'clock mass I intended to go,  a good way to start a new year.  I made it but without my routine and without my coffee.  It was worth it.  When I returned home I still thought the sun might shine through today and surely I'd get in a short walk at least, but not to be.  I tested myself by bundling up and taking the veggie skins and an eggshell to dump back below the pole shed where I've been throwing landfill stuff like that and  leaves in the fall.  Maybe in spring I'll have Beuhler bring in a load of dirt to put over the debris to help it decompose.  Will see. 

 This coldness and grayness could give me the "gloomies" if I thought too much on it.  So I won't.  After all yesterday was my final of 365 days reading through the entire Catechism on line, You Tube with Father Mike Schmidt and Ascension.  I am very proud of myself for accomplishing that!  I wondered last January 1 when I began if I would have the stick to it I'd need and I did!  

Well here it is, another year.  Let's make it the best that we can.  I'm not  doing resolutions, haven't for years.  I  will remain the me that I am.  I  am not familiar with F>M>Knowles, but sounds like my kind of person.  

F.M. Knowles:    He who breaks a resolution is a weakling; He who makes one is a fool.

Christmas 2023

 

Another Christmas, alone.  Grey and wet outside, but at least to me it is preferable to snow.  I think after 40+ years in northern CA I got used to no snow, yet here we/ umm I mean I now live in MN.  Do I miss CA?  Nope not even on my worst day.  Best thing we ever did, moving away when we did.  Yet when Jerry decided it I thought he was kidding.  I am ever thankful he was serious.  Yet today again, Monday,   no sunshine  no sun since Thursday?  I know Friday was grey.  So I got a dose from my Happy light next to the downstairs PC where I am consigned to work online until the laptop that I so conveniently use upstairs is repaired or replaced.  I will set a nice setting for myself at my dining room table and dine on beef filet tenderloin, twice baked potato, asparagus and green salad and wine.  How I miss the hustle and bustle of Christmases of the past where I wore myself out into a tizzy cooking, baking, wrapping presents, decorating and all that over the top activity.  Life has changed and now this is my new normal.  

We can decide

I posted this on my FB today and since I am  just marking time this afternoon and having the inconvenience of using the downstairs PC I thought it a good time to post here to keep this blog alive.  Yesterday my laptop went bonkers,  when I tried to start her all I got was a black screen with computerized messages, "Boot drive not found."  etc  blah blah.  I tried running diagnostics which indicated the laptop passed.  I  unplugged and restarted her, nope, same junk.  

Well I can get by with my tablet and this PC so it is not the end of the world, but an annoyance.  So this morning I took her to the Geeks at Best Buy where she will get a once over and hopefully restoration.  If not I;ll buy a new laptop because it is convenient to have that upstairs off the side of the kitchen.  The rep at the Geek counter complimented me on my "positive good attitude" he said most  would be  upset about their computer.  I had to tell him, "well not me.  Not with what I've lived through, it's going to take more than a computer to dim any more Christmases' for me.  I've been thru worse."  

It's true lost Steve 15 years ago in December and Jerry 3 years ago in December.  I'm still surviving, and doing really well.  That come only from Grace of God and my deep rooted lifelong faith.  I no longer say, "Next?"  nor do I say "Hit me with your best shot."  That's already happened, over, done with.  

As this image portrays we can decide.  I have decided long ago to accept and go on ahead.  So inconvenienced, but I'll get by.  They sent me an email to pick her up Tuesdau at 12:40PM, so  that must be good.  

We have had a December with   very little snow and I am happy about it.  Though I dislioke our grey dreary days like yesterday, and today, it is better than shoveling snow to me.  Almost reminds me of Christmas in northern CA.  But not fully.   

I'll be at 8:00PM mass this Eve.  Lector again,  I haven't had a mass to just sit in the pews since maybe September.  Seems I am a full time lector.  I have trained others but they migrate to Sundays.  Well as my cousin reminded me, "this is Your Gift to share.  And it's as close as you get to altar girl."  Recalling my nerve back in the  50's at wanting to be an altar girl.  That was unheard of, no such thing, only altar boys.  It put the nuns and others on edge and made my grandma tell me, "don't argue with the sisters Patty." " I wasn't arguing, I was only asking a question."   That was not encouraged back there and then. Mom shrugged it off,  she knew me, she knew I ask whatever I think.  I was unfiltered., She blamed my grandma for spoiling me that way.  I had forgotten all about my stir that gave the family and beyond something to talk about until Lawrence reminded me.   Today we have altar girls too.  I was ahead of the curve.

UPDATE to keep active

 And so just incase I'd get a google inactivity flag, here I go with a nothing post.   It is supposed to be fall here, but we have a resurgence of heat, another hot couple days.  Today I was out back blowing leaves down the hill and shook my head,  I felt rain drops?  Looked up to the sky and realized this is what happened several times through the summer,  sweat from my head and brow!    This is October 2...proving to me I made the right decision not to move south into perpetual summer.  I do not like hot weather.  I like 4 seasons even though here the final one, the winter can drag on too long.  I hope we soon turn into crisp cooler fall temps before we plunge deep into the cold times.  I know I vowed this past winter which went on forever to not complain when it got warm, but this has not been a MN summer.  

Changes changes,  below is a photo of the side vintage hydrangea tree  on this day in 2016 and below it is a photo of it today.  It is  fading away.  Next year I have to have the landscaper get and plant a new one for me.  This year I put in a tree outback, Japanese lilac.  It will never replace the wonderful big old ash trees we used to enjoy before we had to take them down due to emerald ash borer.  The 2016 photo shows one old ash and the 2023 photo  below shows the new garden chain link fence.

 

  In August SIL came to visit from CO and raved about the side hydrangea which I know is looking older, more tired, just not as it used to be.  I found a photo of it August 2015 below.

And as blogger and maybe google are acting up that is it for this update for me

Don't want to be deleted by Google, so....

 Received an email from Google today that mentioned deletion of any account which remains inactive for 2 years.  Although I seldom blog here anymore, thought I should sign on and enter something.  Part of the notice:

"Therefore, we are updating the inactivity period for a Google Account to two years across all our products and services. This change starts rolling out today and will apply to any Google Account that’s been inactive, meaning it has not been signed into or used within a two-year period. An inactive account and any content in it will be eligible for deletion from December 1, 2023."

My book blog, the other blog I set up to track the books and authors I read had something bizarre happen.  All the photos and sidebar labels, photos there  were discarded.  I still do not know how that happened.,  Maybe when I didn't read one of these Google emails and just deleted.  Anyway I am so disgusted to have lost all of that from the blog which had been ongoing for several years.  No way can I reconstruct it nor do I have time to do so.  So now I  just try to post the book, author and very brief commentary about it and will go forward.  Most of my postings are on Facebook because that is where I have interaction with  people I know all over the country and some  outside the country too.  Blogging fell by the wayside.  

Yet when I read that today I did not want to lose this too.  So posting here and this should show my activity.  For now.  

She Is Me

 

My cousin sent me this and the more I see it the more I know this is me. I have gotten through, I did not know there was a choice.  One cannot just lay down nor wallow, nor give up.  Humans are not like a flower done blooming that can wilt away although I sure have wished I could at times.  

Overall I am doing quite well since Jerry passed in December, medically the stress of all this has not harmed me, my doctors are pleased.  My annual cardiologist check up went very well,  Those are good, I am somehow working it through.  But the last couple days, for no particular reason, I seem to backslide.  I have read/heard that grief is like that, just about the time you think you are in smooth waters, smooth easier sailing, watch out here comes a wave.  Strange feelings, for me as I am noticing this aloneness.  When I come in from outside weeding and trimming, there is no one to say, "ok, you have done enough for one day, done now.."  so I have to tell that to myself.    I think about my friends who were single and who lived alone, the closest are gone now too.  But they managed OK.  How did they do that?  Was it because that was ll they knew.  They had nothing to get really used to.  One lived with her aging parents and after they passed she stayed in the family home and continued on with life.

Maybe if you are not used to someone else being part of life, considering and  making decisions, companionship, comfort, love and 53 + years together being solitary does not seem different.  But for me it's major.  I miss him at pre dinner cocktail time when he'd have a beer and I'd pour a glass of wine.  Yes, I still pour myself that wine.  But no one is here to ask, "what's on the menu?" or, "let's go to Schmitty's and eat.."   No one is here to eat with.  I still cook, I always will.  I prefer my own food, I am just like my late aunt, "eat at home you know what you have then".  It is a challenge to purchase and cook portions to single, other than a chop, burger or small steak, so I adjust to having left overs.  Some I do not mind, left over salmon, chicken, even steak, cut or  diced into a salad make a good meal for me, especially on these hot days we have endured since June.   But this post is not about how I am cooking...it's about noticing how alone solitary life is.  

My cousin, the retired Monsignor who lives alone now in PA in his family home tells me that he is by himself and I will adjust. I suppose I have to,  there is no choice.  I am not the  one to start going out for fast food or  eating out alone just to sit alone in a restaurant.  

When I am overly busy with chores, errands or when I was so preoccupied selling the coach and pick up I didn't get this wistful.  So the grief wave right now will pass, I tell myself, It came to pass not to stay.  Doesn't mean I have to like it.  Just tolerate and accept..

An unwelcome discovery

  This very vintage steel, 4 drawer file cabinet in the garage belonged to Jerry's mom, who died in 2013 after a slow declining aging, ending last couple years in a facility, She saved everything and it was crammed full with bank statements, tax returns, all in original envelopes, receipts, etc going back to the 1950's. Some papers disintegrating. I kept mentioning to Jerry for years after it took up space here that he should clear it out. He apparently got tired of shredding & forgot about it.

So this week, I thought I'd tidy some garage shelves and store some things in it. Crap, When I opened it the drawers still were still over half full! So I shredded and tore several bags full, but got weary myself, needed this like a wart! I am down to 2 drawers still half full and taking a break.... tempted to just pitch whole contents but there are social security #'s, etc and although both she & father-in-law are dead, figure better shred,. There was a huge box of all the cards etc she'd received for her 90th birthday, & others. I did just dump that into recycle whole.

It amazes me, she dragged this thing from southern CA to northern CA when she moved to be near us when she became a widow, back in 80's, then it was moved cross country when we moved back to MN. Sigh and all now useless junk, clutter and more for me to do. I never run out of things to do! But I still have my own mess downstairs to clear!

Getting along but it sucks

2017 FL  Jerry found the
castle he wanted

 What another week but through my prayers , angels and my Tribe Beyond  I made it.   What I can say is this business of widowhood sucks,  just plain sucks.    I do not like it yet it is, I can do no more than what I do.  I am still in the lousy process of selling our dream castle on wheels, our motor coach, a lifetime to achieve that luxury level and then crap!  Never got to enjoy it.  It was Jerry's pride and joy.  It was to be our winter home as we'd snowbird.  So much was  to be, but then life twisted upside down, sideways  and inside out.  He is gone and here I am. It sucks. 

 I go along but I am so damn lonely.  I have lost more people than I know alive.  Some days I am just at home and never see or hear from anyone. I would like to have people pop in, stop by but that is not happening.  I have no one like that around here.  

3 to back up,  Jerry did alone

 This week I had to have Freon added to the front air conditioning system as I try to have it all nice for the  buyer. I am thankful for another local acquaintance who referred me to a very decent diesel service locally. It is tricky to pull into and out of its house, shop here, but Jerry did it himself always.  Well the techs did it too but they said "tricky".   Because the friend who drives it for me is off on their annual family vacation I needed someone to drive it there.  The shop was so gracious to me, they came to pick up and bring back, checked it all out and despite my worrying all was good.  The price was reasonable,  Surely a blessing.  The guys were very nice.  It had to be kept overnight  because they were busy, so that day until I heard that I stewed imagining the worst things wrong. 

 That is what I hate about the way I have become in widowhood,  I seem to always imagine the worst.  I was never that way before, I was always hopeful.  I used to be optimistic.  Will I never be that way again?  I hate being frantic, on edge, gloomy.  New me.is not me, awful.   

Coach has to fit  between rafters and
snugly into back bump out.  Tricky

I like the people who are buying it and I wish them the happiness with it that we looked so forward to and never got.  They are financing and the process has dragged on. I have had so much paperwork and I'm selling, sigh.   I will cry when this leaves yet I will be so thankful.  This has been a huge burden on me.  It will soon be over. It has been exhausting beyond what I could have ever imagined.  So much responsibility alone. 

 Through all this ups and downs and worries that all worked out I have missed Jerry more and more.  Being alone without anyone to talk things over or share hurts.  I am very disappointed in so called friends locally. I have no family. The  few who are afar do not care.   I know now people go on their own way,  they do not care about me and my trials, feelings.  They are on with their lives.  So I endure and with much prayer I get along.  But it sucks. 

 I laughed the other day ,thinking   if just  a few of the phony FB friend requests I get from men were real, I would be flattered,  in a more optimistic mood.  But I ignore all those, wisely,  nothing but trouble. Despite their claims to be widowers, and good looking, hah!   At least I am not that gullible,  and I am not looking for a man.  I only wish I had real friends who came by and or called.  I wish I had someone to talk to, to listen to me.  I miss Jerry. 

2017 into the shop he had it shining

Endurance in grief

 I really hate grief and there is not much in life I hate.  I am not comfortable with hate.  It is a bitter emotion and useless I have always thought.  But living with the grief of being a widow, I can truly say I hate.  I do not like it and all I can do is just go through, endure, because here I am.

Last night I took the refresher class for Defensive Driver for seniors, those over age 60.  This happens every two years and gets me 10% discount off my car insurance rate.   I usually learn or relearn something too.  It is a useful refresher but I wish it were not every 2 years and that the class did not take 3 hours.  e get out early if the people will not ask incessant silly questions of the instructor or feel the need to say what happened to them when.  But people seem compelled to have to comment.  Our instructor is a local friend, retired State  Highway  Cop and semi truck driver still.  He does his best to move things along.  He had explained answering a question about why bicyclists who are to obey the same road rules as vehicles are not cited for violations,  because judges do not want to be bothered.  How many police officers will waste their time writing tickets that a judge will toss?  No back up to enforcement gets no enforcement, pure and simple.  It was not 5 minutes later when another woman asked "why aren't bicyclists given tickets?"  Sheesh, lady pay attention he just went through it.  If these people can pay no more attention to driving than they do in class, no wonder they are considered risky.  

At the start of the class my grief smacked me between the eyes.  The instructor opens the class asking everyone to write the names of 5 people in their lives important to them.  I do not have 5, in fact I do not really have any now that Jerry is gone.  I stretched to come up with 2 names, and yet I know I am not that important to them.  I do not hear from anyone routinely, let alone so called family.  When Jerry and I last took this refresher class together, at least I had him and a late friend, she is now gone too.  Our son has been gone since 2008, I truly have no one.  The next step was to cross off 2 of the 5 names at random which signifies the number or percentage of those who will be killed by distracted or intoxicated/drugged drivers. The exercise has lost all meaning to me. 

A FB contact on the FB Grief Speaks Out site shared this poem with me::::: 

FRIENDS DON'T COME BY

 

Friends don't come by too often,

ever since you went away.

I think they feel uncomfortable

and just don't know what to say.

 

On the times they do stop by

they never stay too long,

"I really must get going"

is always their same old song.

 

I try to keep them talking

'bout news and other stuff,

I don't let them see me crying,

or tell them how things are so rough.

 

But deep inside I really wish

they would ask me how I'm doing,

and sit and listen as I cry

not tell me stop "boo hooing".

 

I wish they'd try to understand

this pain inside my heart,

for though I knew it could happen,

I wasn't ready for us to part.

 

But since they don't I'll just get by,

I'll stay busy and try to smile,

until the day God calls me home

and I walk my one last mile.

 

© Forrest Phelps-Cook